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.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
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…
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…
Friday, July 14, 2006
Crocs at the Wrong Places
I have loads of time today so that’s why you’re seeing a lot of nonsense entries today. Anyway, I was heading down in the lift and this Indian man steps is to join me halfway. He was about late 30’s, scruffy looking, worn brown trousers and faded blue checkered shirt. A kind of like the guy who would deliver your newspapers every morning on his motorcycle. But the thing was, he’s wearing Crocs! Even in pink some more. Quite dirtied a bit but that’s understandable considering his physical demeanor. But point is I know for a fact those babies go for at RM129 a pair. Sure they’re practical and comfortable (as the ads go) but seriously, they do look so feminine. C’mon lah, at least get them in blue or something. Not pink. If he has a teenage son (and that is very likely) I don’t what his reaction will be. Haiyoh~!
FlyDay!
It’s a FlyDay! Not that it means much to me anyway. Weekend classes and all. But before we move on to more interesting things like Najua’s dimples let me just announce that I have declared July 9th as my second birthday for the next 3 years. Or July 10th. I haven’t decided yet. But it’ll be between those two dates.
So, tomorrow is the start of the weekends and there will be no football on the telly (live matches, that is). This provides a good and bad situation for me. Good in terms of that I can finally have a proper Saturday night out, preferably with a girl (preferably with Najua). Or just chill at Spicy. Bad in terms of if any of those fail to happen, I have nothing to fall back on. Sure I have a few DVDs laying around but that too would be equally depressing.
You know, I’m browsing through this place called Ciao. It looks very nice and very inviting. I have been wanting to go there since, well, forever. All these time I have been looking for the right occasion and the right partner (not to mention the right personal financial state) to go there. Come to think of it, y’know what, this could actually work. Ciao, Najua and me. I could give her a call, sometime later today, asking what she’s been up to lately. Is she still continuing with her ACCA like me, oh by the way, I was just wondering, there’s this nice restaurant I’m planning on checking out, would you like to come with me? Oh you do? Well, okay then. I pick you up at 7.30? Good? ‘kay, see you then. Ah, date firm and secured. If only things would go so smoothly. Of course, all this enthusiasm would go down the toilet if she has already made other plans. Wait, no, of course she got no plans. She would be absolutely thrilled to join me for dinner at a romantic Italian restaurant (positif2). Too bad Kat lives so far away and can’t go out at night. If not, dah bole (ish hot sial amoi yg lalu depan tadi), er, ehem, kalau tak dah bole buat double header. Ka- cha!
(kedengaran lagu Unfaithful oleh Rihanna di background)
So, tomorrow is the start of the weekends and there will be no football on the telly (live matches, that is). This provides a good and bad situation for me. Good in terms of that I can finally have a proper Saturday night out, preferably with a girl (preferably with Najua). Or just chill at Spicy. Bad in terms of if any of those fail to happen, I have nothing to fall back on. Sure I have a few DVDs laying around but that too would be equally depressing.
You know, I’m browsing through this place called Ciao. It looks very nice and very inviting. I have been wanting to go there since, well, forever. All these time I have been looking for the right occasion and the right partner (not to mention the right personal financial state) to go there. Come to think of it, y’know what, this could actually work. Ciao, Najua and me. I could give her a call, sometime later today, asking what she’s been up to lately. Is she still continuing with her ACCA like me, oh by the way, I was just wondering, there’s this nice restaurant I’m planning on checking out, would you like to come with me? Oh you do? Well, okay then. I pick you up at 7.30? Good? ‘kay, see you then. Ah, date firm and secured. If only things would go so smoothly. Of course, all this enthusiasm would go down the toilet if she has already made other plans. Wait, no, of course she got no plans. She would be absolutely thrilled to join me for dinner at a romantic Italian restaurant (positif2). Too bad Kat lives so far away and can’t go out at night. If not, dah bole (ish hot sial amoi yg lalu depan tadi), er, ehem, kalau tak dah bole buat double header. Ka- cha!
(kedengaran lagu Unfaithful oleh Rihanna di background)
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
About A Boy (The Italian World Cup Story)
Let me tell you a story about a boy.
12 years ago, then a Standard 6 student, was about to head off to school. But before he left the house to the side of the road for the school van, he just had to watch the TV screen first. Neatly dressed in his uniform, school bag at the ready, water bottle snugged nicely at the side, he stood transfixed at the penalty shoot-out between Brazil and Italy. It was the 1994 World Cup Final.
Weeks prior, he never quite understood what’s the big fuss about football, and especially the euphoria surrounding the World Cup. He knows that the point of the game was to put the ball into the back of the net. Until to that point, he never cared who or which team did it, as long as it happens, he was conveniently happy. But as this spectacle known as USA ’94 came underway and the continued persistence of his elder brother dragging this little boy along to watch the games live with him just for the sake of having some company, he began to fathom the true depth to what football is all about.
Although he fell asleep most of the time he strongly remembers the brutality of Hristo Stoitchkov in front of goal, the magical chemistry between Romario and Bebeto, and of course, the exquisite touches of Roberto Baggio. His brother had told him that at the time, that Baggio was the best footballer on the planet. And he could see why. To him, Baggio defined football in that tournament. The boy was such in awe and admiration that he thought that Baggio had the divine right to win the trophy.
So when that morning came, and he saw his new hero, blasted his spotkick over the crossbar, he just couldn’t believe what he just saw. 12 yards out, one-on-one with the keeper, it was impossible to miss, but yet he did. Arms at the hips and a despondent look upon his face, Baggio looked on as the backroom staff of Brazil ran onto the pitch, carrying the Brazilian flag above their shoulders. Halfway across the world the boy watched and was left speechless. As if his heart was suddenly snatched away. That was that and he had to go to school. It was heartbreak and for a very long day he kept saying to himself, “That shouldn’t have happened. Baggio was supposed to win and lift the trophy,”. His earlier sadness had turned into frustration and almost anger. And with intent filled so truth and pure, he made a vow. “One day we’ll win it. Make no mistake about that,” Thus, began his undying pledge to the Italian National Team.
Two years had gone by from that day and at England Euro 96, another adventure began but Italy was so humiliating that they went out at the first round which included an embarrassing defeat to the Czechs. He moved on. At France ’98, it was déjà vu all over again as he saw, this time Di Biagio skyrocketed his penalty shot into the Parisian sky. The boy only managed to hold his head in his hands, but he kept moving on. At Euro 2000, Italy came so close. So close that it felt like a heart attack for to be shun of your glory with seconds to go and then suddenly stabbed by David Trezeguet with a golden goal. At 2002, it was a mockery losing to a pittance like Ahn Jung Hwan but then again, Italy did spurn their chances. Mistake after mistake that finally came to haunt them. Yet, the boy moved on. At Euro 2004, Italy never looked threatening and bowed out at the group stage, blaming on the existence of other teams’ supposedly conspiracy theories to oust them out while in truth it was Italy itself persistent failure to create and score goals that contributed to its poor showing. Then came 2006.
Italy were the least favorite among the past winners to win the 2006 World Cup in Germany. Talks in the media were mostly about Brazil’s magnificent amount of offensive talent at their disposal, Germany’s home advantage, England’s golden generation, Argentina’s array of exciting young talent and France’s mixture of youth and experience. Italy, meanwhile, came to Germany without any superstar player of international recognition. Totti was a prime example. Brilliant for club but poor for country. Not to mention the match fixing scandal that was going on back home. Things didn’t look promising for Italy. But as the truest of fans, the boy stuck to his team even though he himself had doubts about how far Italy can go this time around. He even identified Italy’s weak points that could prove a potential downfall. But when July 9th came and he saw Italy made it all the way to Berlin and after 2 hours of football emerged victorious, he was ever so glad to be wrong. Among the things he pointed regarding Italy’s flaws were their uncreative forwards. He was right to a certain extent. Italy’s forwards didn’t impressed much in terms of goals tally but when your strikers couldn’t score, get your midfielders and even you defenders to chip in. A feat almost unheard of Italian football. But tremendously satisfying nonetheless. The match itself wasn’t as good as the semi-final but at the end of it the boy was jubilant and dancing.
As the sun rises on the morning of July 10th, the boy was making his way to work. Even after a mere 3 hours of sleep, as he turned the ignition and his car, Valerie, roared into life, his feeling of joy was beyond words. Alas, what he had dreamt had finally come true – Italy are the World Champions.
12 years ago, then a Standard 6 student, was about to head off to school. But before he left the house to the side of the road for the school van, he just had to watch the TV screen first. Neatly dressed in his uniform, school bag at the ready, water bottle snugged nicely at the side, he stood transfixed at the penalty shoot-out between Brazil and Italy. It was the 1994 World Cup Final.
Weeks prior, he never quite understood what’s the big fuss about football, and especially the euphoria surrounding the World Cup. He knows that the point of the game was to put the ball into the back of the net. Until to that point, he never cared who or which team did it, as long as it happens, he was conveniently happy. But as this spectacle known as USA ’94 came underway and the continued persistence of his elder brother dragging this little boy along to watch the games live with him just for the sake of having some company, he began to fathom the true depth to what football is all about.
Although he fell asleep most of the time he strongly remembers the brutality of Hristo Stoitchkov in front of goal, the magical chemistry between Romario and Bebeto, and of course, the exquisite touches of Roberto Baggio. His brother had told him that at the time, that Baggio was the best footballer on the planet. And he could see why. To him, Baggio defined football in that tournament. The boy was such in awe and admiration that he thought that Baggio had the divine right to win the trophy.
So when that morning came, and he saw his new hero, blasted his spotkick over the crossbar, he just couldn’t believe what he just saw. 12 yards out, one-on-one with the keeper, it was impossible to miss, but yet he did. Arms at the hips and a despondent look upon his face, Baggio looked on as the backroom staff of Brazil ran onto the pitch, carrying the Brazilian flag above their shoulders. Halfway across the world the boy watched and was left speechless. As if his heart was suddenly snatched away. That was that and he had to go to school. It was heartbreak and for a very long day he kept saying to himself, “That shouldn’t have happened. Baggio was supposed to win and lift the trophy,”. His earlier sadness had turned into frustration and almost anger. And with intent filled so truth and pure, he made a vow. “One day we’ll win it. Make no mistake about that,” Thus, began his undying pledge to the Italian National Team.
Two years had gone by from that day and at England Euro 96, another adventure began but Italy was so humiliating that they went out at the first round which included an embarrassing defeat to the Czechs. He moved on. At France ’98, it was déjà vu all over again as he saw, this time Di Biagio skyrocketed his penalty shot into the Parisian sky. The boy only managed to hold his head in his hands, but he kept moving on. At Euro 2000, Italy came so close. So close that it felt like a heart attack for to be shun of your glory with seconds to go and then suddenly stabbed by David Trezeguet with a golden goal. At 2002, it was a mockery losing to a pittance like Ahn Jung Hwan but then again, Italy did spurn their chances. Mistake after mistake that finally came to haunt them. Yet, the boy moved on. At Euro 2004, Italy never looked threatening and bowed out at the group stage, blaming on the existence of other teams’ supposedly conspiracy theories to oust them out while in truth it was Italy itself persistent failure to create and score goals that contributed to its poor showing. Then came 2006.
Italy were the least favorite among the past winners to win the 2006 World Cup in Germany. Talks in the media were mostly about Brazil’s magnificent amount of offensive talent at their disposal, Germany’s home advantage, England’s golden generation, Argentina’s array of exciting young talent and France’s mixture of youth and experience. Italy, meanwhile, came to Germany without any superstar player of international recognition. Totti was a prime example. Brilliant for club but poor for country. Not to mention the match fixing scandal that was going on back home. Things didn’t look promising for Italy. But as the truest of fans, the boy stuck to his team even though he himself had doubts about how far Italy can go this time around. He even identified Italy’s weak points that could prove a potential downfall. But when July 9th came and he saw Italy made it all the way to Berlin and after 2 hours of football emerged victorious, he was ever so glad to be wrong. Among the things he pointed regarding Italy’s flaws were their uncreative forwards. He was right to a certain extent. Italy’s forwards didn’t impressed much in terms of goals tally but when your strikers couldn’t score, get your midfielders and even you defenders to chip in. A feat almost unheard of Italian football. But tremendously satisfying nonetheless. The match itself wasn’t as good as the semi-final but at the end of it the boy was jubilant and dancing.
As the sun rises on the morning of July 10th, the boy was making his way to work. Even after a mere 3 hours of sleep, as he turned the ignition and his car, Valerie, roared into life, his feeling of joy was beyond words. Alas, what he had dreamt had finally come true – Italy are the World Champions.
Fratelli d'Italia
L'Italia s'è desta
Dell'elmo di Scipio
S'è cinta la testa.
Dove'è la Vittoria?.
Le porga la chioma;
Chè schiava di Roma
Iddio la creò.
Stringiamoci a coorte,
Siam pronti alla morte:
Italia chiamò!
Noi siamo da secoli
Calpesti e derisi,
Perchè non siam popolo,
Perchè siam divisi;
Raccolgaci un'unica
Bandiera, un speme;
Di fonderci insieme;
Già l'ora suonò.
Stringiamoci a coorte,
Siam pronti alla morte:
Italia chiamò!
Uniamoci, amiamoci;
L'unione e l'amore
Rivelano ai popoli
Le vie del Signore:
Giuriamo far libero
Il suolo natío;
Uniti per Dio
Chi vincer ci può?.
Stringiamoci a coorte,
Siam pronti alla morte:
Italia chiamò!
Dall'Alpi a Sicilia
Dovunque è Legnano
Ogni uom di Ferruccio:
Ha il cuor e la mano.
I bimbi d'Italia
Si chiamano Balilla:
Il suon d'ogni squilla
I vespri suonò.
Stringiamoci a coorte,
Siam pronti alla morte:
Italia chiamò!
Son giunchi che piegano
Le spade vendute:
Già l'Aquila d'Austria
Le penne ha perdute.
Il sangue d'Italia
E il sangue polacco
Bevè col Cosacco
Ma il cor le bruciò
Stringiamoci a coorte
Siam pronti alla morte:
Italia chiamò!
Struck a Chord
Before I post my Italy World Cup success story, I just had to put this first. It is now 6.32pm and I’m at the office. I just handed my work to my senior and as I was walking back to my place to pack things up, I passed by another senior staff, a Chinese woman who was sitting at her desk, intently watching the screen of her ThinkPad. Since it’s after office hours, she was playing some mini computer game, I assume, to pass time by. That wasn’t interesting. What was interesting though was that she was singing. It was ever so softly but since it has become so quiet around the office, I really could hear what she was singing. She went “…Sayangilah diri ini…Belailah jiwa nan sepi…Kelayuan~”
Man, she was singing Bunga-bunga Cinta by Misha Omar and I shit you not. I was so amused I had this smile on my face all the way back to my place. And then, of course, decided to blog it. Damn, man, I had to go check her out again.
(3 minutes later)
Ah demmit, she went home already. I guess that's my cue too. Arriverderci.
Man, she was singing Bunga-bunga Cinta by Misha Omar and I shit you not. I was so amused I had this smile on my face all the way back to my place. And then, of course, decided to blog it. Damn, man, I had to go check her out again.
(3 minutes later)
Ah demmit, she went home already. I guess that's my cue too. Arriverderci.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Italians, Sandra and 'Jake'
Oh joy! Italy are in the Final! Il Finale! I don’t care how the coaches sound so democratically to the media but I want a revenge. As a fan I want a revenge for that fateful Euro 2000 final. It was heartbreak in the Baram common room for me. A heartbreak that could only be surpassed by Bayern Munich fans during that ’99 Champion’s League Final. I have so much respect for Zidane and Henry but hey, I would like to see Cannavaro lift the golden trophy aloft his baldy head come July 9 at Berlin. Haih, I’ve never been so happy at the break of dawn since Wayne Bridge scored that angled slide goal against Arsenal in the quarter-final of the Champion’s League.
So, much to anticipate this weekend. I’m so psyched I think I’m gonna piss my pants. But sad thing though, come Monday and the 2006 edition World Cup will end. We’ll have to wait another 4 years for its return. 4 long years. By then I would be 28, achieved my ACCA qualification status, driving around town in my brand new silver BMW 330Ci complete with an AC Schintzer kit and busy getting married to Najua. Haha. Nah, just kidding. She and I would have been gotten married by then.
So it’ll be in South Africa 2010. And if my brief research is anything to go by, kick-off time will be around in the middle of the night too. Just an hour earlier than what we are experiencing with Germany now. Well, that’s the thought in 4 years time. In the meantime, well, Berlin. Forza Italia.
On to other news, last week I have quite effectively ended my social life for the next three years of my life. The story behind it? Well, after a brief break, my ACCA classes are starting again. And Deloitte is reluctant to let me (or the other Petronas re-skilling students) to stay on studying at PAAC because they have this buddy-buddy thing goin’ on with Sunway College. So, cornered and pressured to come to a quick decision, I opted to continue my studies at Sunway. Just because I simply don’t want to get into small unnecessary bickering with my employers. I have enough hassles in my life. Besides, they’re the ones paying for it (as pointed out repeatedly by them). So there you go, I’m currently a part-time student at Sunway College. I never saw that one coming. One of the pros of relocating to Sunway is that they do not have evening weekday classes because they know traffic is literally hell after office hours. Instead, which now leads to one of its cons, they schedule their classes on weekends. Saturdays and Sundays. The whole of Saturdays and Sundays. So, where does my own personal time go? I no longer have it. Well, not until mid-August. For now I still have a half-weekend, on Saturdays which I am free. After that, whoa, goodbye peaceful mornings. It’s going to be rush, rush, rush 24/7. But even now, do you know what it feels like to go to class on a Sunday? It’s downright nasty. I don’t have Sunday classes while I was at PAAC. And another thing, by leaving PAAC, I have lost my reason and opportunity to drop by at Jes’ place. I think I can handle the ghost town like atmosphere at a huge educational institution of higher learning but not being able to visit Jes once in a while after class really hurts. Well, as they say, shit happens. Now that Jacuzzi plan really has gone bad to worse.
Earlier today, I was on my way to Imbi plaza to check out how my PS2 is doing after I sent it for repair (sadly, not ready yet) and I was at the traffic junction near Parkroyal when an orange Gen2 pulled up at my right. Guess who? It’s Marina aka Sandra Oh and Azad! And since the driver’s side of Valerie’s power window doesn’t work, I had to open my door to have a chat. Talk about being unorthodox. They asked when I was going back to class and I said I transferred to Sunway and Marina, I mean, Sandra said something about joining me there. Well, I hope I heard her right. I could use some company over there. I hope Najua would follow suit. Didn’t really had time to ask further, you know what I mean?
Speaking about bumping into people, last Friday I came across Hadi and Ewok at Mid Valley. I decided to pay my beloved Jantzen a visit after work and there they were chit-chatting at McD as I was making my way up. It must have been quite some time since I met Hadi because he hugged me when I came to greet him and I had to give him that look, you know. Like, hey, we’re not Heath and Jake here okay. It turns out he has returned to Formis, alongside Tomok but have yet to meet him because Tomok is busy abusing the free phone lines at Celcom. But one person who is apparently turning into Brokeback Mountain-ish mode is Wakju. Rumours are, according to Ewok I presume (since she too works at Schlumberger) that Wakju now even dresses differently. Lots of those tight fitting shirts and recently he has taken up cooking and dance classes offered by the company. Okay, cooking I understand. Funny, but understandable. But dance lessons? I asked Ewok, what kind of dances they’re teaching? And she replied, “Salsa, for instance”. Salsa. Can you imagine Wakju doing Salsa? Well, I can’t. How about that, eh? Senor Wakju. From Silat Cekak to Salsa. Who would’ve thought. But I still have trouble believing though. No offense to Ewok but I have to see my own eyes this Antonio Banderas version of Wakju. Part of me want it to be true because, man, what a story that’ll be. Before you know it, he’ll probably bleach his hair. Disturbing yet fascinating thoughts.
So, much to anticipate this weekend. I’m so psyched I think I’m gonna piss my pants. But sad thing though, come Monday and the 2006 edition World Cup will end. We’ll have to wait another 4 years for its return. 4 long years. By then I would be 28, achieved my ACCA qualification status, driving around town in my brand new silver BMW 330Ci complete with an AC Schintzer kit and busy getting married to Najua. Haha. Nah, just kidding. She and I would have been gotten married by then.
So it’ll be in South Africa 2010. And if my brief research is anything to go by, kick-off time will be around in the middle of the night too. Just an hour earlier than what we are experiencing with Germany now. Well, that’s the thought in 4 years time. In the meantime, well, Berlin. Forza Italia.
On to other news, last week I have quite effectively ended my social life for the next three years of my life. The story behind it? Well, after a brief break, my ACCA classes are starting again. And Deloitte is reluctant to let me (or the other Petronas re-skilling students) to stay on studying at PAAC because they have this buddy-buddy thing goin’ on with Sunway College. So, cornered and pressured to come to a quick decision, I opted to continue my studies at Sunway. Just because I simply don’t want to get into small unnecessary bickering with my employers. I have enough hassles in my life. Besides, they’re the ones paying for it (as pointed out repeatedly by them). So there you go, I’m currently a part-time student at Sunway College. I never saw that one coming. One of the pros of relocating to Sunway is that they do not have evening weekday classes because they know traffic is literally hell after office hours. Instead, which now leads to one of its cons, they schedule their classes on weekends. Saturdays and Sundays. The whole of Saturdays and Sundays. So, where does my own personal time go? I no longer have it. Well, not until mid-August. For now I still have a half-weekend, on Saturdays which I am free. After that, whoa, goodbye peaceful mornings. It’s going to be rush, rush, rush 24/7. But even now, do you know what it feels like to go to class on a Sunday? It’s downright nasty. I don’t have Sunday classes while I was at PAAC. And another thing, by leaving PAAC, I have lost my reason and opportunity to drop by at Jes’ place. I think I can handle the ghost town like atmosphere at a huge educational institution of higher learning but not being able to visit Jes once in a while after class really hurts. Well, as they say, shit happens. Now that Jacuzzi plan really has gone bad to worse.
Earlier today, I was on my way to Imbi plaza to check out how my PS2 is doing after I sent it for repair (sadly, not ready yet) and I was at the traffic junction near Parkroyal when an orange Gen2 pulled up at my right. Guess who? It’s Marina aka Sandra Oh and Azad! And since the driver’s side of Valerie’s power window doesn’t work, I had to open my door to have a chat. Talk about being unorthodox. They asked when I was going back to class and I said I transferred to Sunway and Marina, I mean, Sandra said something about joining me there. Well, I hope I heard her right. I could use some company over there. I hope Najua would follow suit. Didn’t really had time to ask further, you know what I mean?
Speaking about bumping into people, last Friday I came across Hadi and Ewok at Mid Valley. I decided to pay my beloved Jantzen a visit after work and there they were chit-chatting at McD as I was making my way up. It must have been quite some time since I met Hadi because he hugged me when I came to greet him and I had to give him that look, you know. Like, hey, we’re not Heath and Jake here okay. It turns out he has returned to Formis, alongside Tomok but have yet to meet him because Tomok is busy abusing the free phone lines at Celcom. But one person who is apparently turning into Brokeback Mountain-ish mode is Wakju. Rumours are, according to Ewok I presume (since she too works at Schlumberger) that Wakju now even dresses differently. Lots of those tight fitting shirts and recently he has taken up cooking and dance classes offered by the company. Okay, cooking I understand. Funny, but understandable. But dance lessons? I asked Ewok, what kind of dances they’re teaching? And she replied, “Salsa, for instance”. Salsa. Can you imagine Wakju doing Salsa? Well, I can’t. How about that, eh? Senor Wakju. From Silat Cekak to Salsa. Who would’ve thought. But I still have trouble believing though. No offense to Ewok but I have to see my own eyes this Antonio Banderas version of Wakju. Part of me want it to be true because, man, what a story that’ll be. Before you know it, he’ll probably bleach his hair. Disturbing yet fascinating thoughts.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Sushi
This happened last Friday. Since we (the Deloitte audit team) were working so hard (to their standards), the client decided to treat us to lunch. Of course we agreed-lah kan? I was so excited because for one, I could save a few bucks from not having to buy my own lunch and two, if a client wants to treat you out for some dining, it is usually something fancy. But my high hopes were sent crashing to the ground the moment Mr. Chang, the company’s accountant, started saying, “We’ll go for something healthy,” Uh-oh. Even from my not so spectacular culinary experiences, I know for a fact that anything ‘healthy’ never tastes good. “I think we’ll go for sushi,” he added. Oh bloody fuckin’ hell! Sushi? That’s gonna be my treat of the day? Oh come on! Just fuckin-tastic. It’s not that I have anything against sushi but I just don’t get the concept. Sushi doesn’t appeal to me. I’d like to think myself more of a carnivore. A meat-eater. Gimme some steaks and roasted lambs and I’ll never say no. You see, this is what you get when the man treating you for lunch has the body physique of Peter Crouch. Healthy food and sushi. Pfft! You think if someone like, say Diego Maradona, was the one in charge, would he suggest something docile like sushi? No. He’d take you out for roast chickens and barbequed ribs with excessive sauce. There’d be music and some sexy senoritas would be jiggling their hips at the side of the table. And Diego would have some illegal Cuban cigars courtesy of his friend Fidel at the side. Now that would have been some party. But back to reality….
So there I was at the table, feeling as awkward as one could be, reading the menu but having no idea what to order. I scanned everything looking for something that I’m most unlikely to throw up within 15 minutes of attempted digestion. Luckily, Sushi King does serve chicken. When in moment of doubt, always go for the chicken – it’s the safest bet. I ordered something called Piri-piri Chicken. I don’t know what ‘piri-piri’ means but from the visual aid it looks edible enough for me.
When my meal arrived I finally understood why Mr. Chang calls it a healthy meal. I got the piri-piri chicken (I presume), a bowl of miso soup, some steamed rice, some peas and cube carrots, a small bowl of egg custard and a mini bottle of cultured milk. And I was thinking, man, I bet a single roti canai could offer a whole lot of calories than this entire meal I just ordered.
The chicken was nice enough (whew!), complements rather well with the rice and mixed vegetables (but seriously, it felt like eating dinner at home. I mean, what’s the point of eating out anyway if you can get exactly what you normally get at home? Aye-aye) but everything went downhill after that. I never tried miso soup before but after this I’d probably never try it again. It just tastes terrible. It tasted like sweetened rust particles. And the egg custard? Oh goodness gracious. I would have thought that despite all, the egg custard would make the most sense. I mean, how could you possible screw egg custard? But they did. From what I perceive as a simple and modest recipe, they somehow managed to foul it all up. It was bland, tasteless and dry. It doesn’t look or felt dry but just tasted so. I just ate a spoonful. Swallowing it with much agony. The only reprieve is the small bottle of milk. In the end I just felt relieved I had my Vitagen like drink and sucking on the straw like a six year old.
What a terrible experience. Funny thing was, I felt full. Not full-full but just right full. Incidentally, I wasn’t sleepy like I usually am in the office afterwards after a heavy lunch. I guess there is some sense in taking healthy food. But truthfully though, my taste buds were never actually satisfied. That sushi thing just made my appetite for a hot steaming pizza grew even more.
Sushi King
Service: 3/5
Ambience: 3/5
Food: I'd rather eat sand
Reason to return: I would kill the next person who even suggest the name Sushi King again to me. Seriously.
P/S: This is a biased opinion. However, to all sushi lovers, your criticisms will be duly ignored and very unlikely to change the author's views on sushis. So sod off! Arigato kuzaimas.
So there I was at the table, feeling as awkward as one could be, reading the menu but having no idea what to order. I scanned everything looking for something that I’m most unlikely to throw up within 15 minutes of attempted digestion. Luckily, Sushi King does serve chicken. When in moment of doubt, always go for the chicken – it’s the safest bet. I ordered something called Piri-piri Chicken. I don’t know what ‘piri-piri’ means but from the visual aid it looks edible enough for me.
When my meal arrived I finally understood why Mr. Chang calls it a healthy meal. I got the piri-piri chicken (I presume), a bowl of miso soup, some steamed rice, some peas and cube carrots, a small bowl of egg custard and a mini bottle of cultured milk. And I was thinking, man, I bet a single roti canai could offer a whole lot of calories than this entire meal I just ordered.
The chicken was nice enough (whew!), complements rather well with the rice and mixed vegetables (but seriously, it felt like eating dinner at home. I mean, what’s the point of eating out anyway if you can get exactly what you normally get at home? Aye-aye) but everything went downhill after that. I never tried miso soup before but after this I’d probably never try it again. It just tastes terrible. It tasted like sweetened rust particles. And the egg custard? Oh goodness gracious. I would have thought that despite all, the egg custard would make the most sense. I mean, how could you possible screw egg custard? But they did. From what I perceive as a simple and modest recipe, they somehow managed to foul it all up. It was bland, tasteless and dry. It doesn’t look or felt dry but just tasted so. I just ate a spoonful. Swallowing it with much agony. The only reprieve is the small bottle of milk. In the end I just felt relieved I had my Vitagen like drink and sucking on the straw like a six year old.
What a terrible experience. Funny thing was, I felt full. Not full-full but just right full. Incidentally, I wasn’t sleepy like I usually am in the office afterwards after a heavy lunch. I guess there is some sense in taking healthy food. But truthfully though, my taste buds were never actually satisfied. That sushi thing just made my appetite for a hot steaming pizza grew even more.
Sushi King
Service: 3/5
Ambience: 3/5
Food: I'd rather eat sand
Reason to return: I would kill the next person who even suggest the name Sushi King again to me. Seriously.
P/S: This is a biased opinion. However, to all sushi lovers, your criticisms will be duly ignored and very unlikely to change the author's views on sushis. So sod off! Arigato kuzaimas.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Cheesy Monday
Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the song of the day.
Music, please…
Turnaround, every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around Turnaround, Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears Turnaround, Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by
And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you'll only hold me tight
We'll be holding on forever
And we'll only be making it right
Cause we'll never be wrong together We can take it to the end of the line
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time
Once upon a time I was falling in love
But now I'm only falling apart
There's nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the heart
Once upon a time there was light in my life
But now there's only love in the dark
Nothing I can say A total eclipse of the heart
Man, like that's the song I had to listen to on my way to Puchong. If there was an award for the cheesiest song of the century, you can be sure Total Eclipse of the Heart will be among the top 3.
Damn, y’all, what a nasty Monday today was. Who do they have to put Brazil and France playing on the same night? Worse still, Monday morning. You know I can’t resist that. As a result, I really got the Monday morning blues. Talk about sleep deprivation. You know you got it bad when putting your face against a wall seems a good idea to get a nap. Even my hot senior who usually is my source of motivation to get to work this past week or so just looked, err, uneventful.
Have you seen The Omen? I haven’t but it’s been getting poor reviews both from the press and my peers. It’s certainly disappointing though because I did saw the original movie and it was the first Hollywood horror movie I ever saw. I was probably 8 or 9 at that time and it scared the bejesus out of me. I never understood the storyline back then. all I knew was that the kid was Satan’s child and he can do nasty things with a look. The ultimate scene for me (I don’t know whether it’s in the new one) was when this dude went to the cemetery to check out an infant’s grave. You know how kids my age at that time perceive graves. They’re like the mosh pit for ghosts. So when I saw this scene with strong winds and thunder could be heard from the background, I was mortified more than I could ever remember. So to me, personally, Omen was a classic. As I don’t fancy horror movies so much, for me to say that is a compliment on its own.
Still taking about movies, people are most probably getting all psyched up for Dead Man’s Chest or Superman. But the one movie I’m looking forward to this summer is Lady in the Water. It’s an M. Night Syamalan movie. And I love his movies. Don’t you? Everybody loved The Sixth Sense. But there are mixed reactions since Signs came out. Some people don’t like movies with alien in them – period. These are the same kind of people who hates War of the Worlds. I’m not saying I’m an alien buff myself but as long as they portray the concept in a believable manner, it’s fine with me. Anyway, Lady in the Water is about an apartment superintendent, played by Paul Giamatti (you should see him in Sideways. Absolutely brilliant) who one day discovers a woman in the apartment’s pool. It turns out, she’s a fairy tale character and he has to help her find her back home. Only Syamalan could come up with a story like this. Aren’t you intrigued how this story is going to turn out? I’m excited just thinking about it. Forget about the Man of Steel, although Johnny Depp as a pirate is still quite amusing, and check out the latest from M Night Syamalan. Man, I sound like a promotional gig.
Nanu, nanu!
Music, please…
Turnaround, every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around Turnaround, Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears Turnaround, Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by
And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you'll only hold me tight
We'll be holding on forever
And we'll only be making it right
Cause we'll never be wrong together We can take it to the end of the line
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time
Once upon a time I was falling in love
But now I'm only falling apart
There's nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the heart
Once upon a time there was light in my life
But now there's only love in the dark
Nothing I can say A total eclipse of the heart
Man, like that's the song I had to listen to on my way to Puchong. If there was an award for the cheesiest song of the century, you can be sure Total Eclipse of the Heart will be among the top 3.
Damn, y’all, what a nasty Monday today was. Who do they have to put Brazil and France playing on the same night? Worse still, Monday morning. You know I can’t resist that. As a result, I really got the Monday morning blues. Talk about sleep deprivation. You know you got it bad when putting your face against a wall seems a good idea to get a nap. Even my hot senior who usually is my source of motivation to get to work this past week or so just looked, err, uneventful.
Have you seen The Omen? I haven’t but it’s been getting poor reviews both from the press and my peers. It’s certainly disappointing though because I did saw the original movie and it was the first Hollywood horror movie I ever saw. I was probably 8 or 9 at that time and it scared the bejesus out of me. I never understood the storyline back then. all I knew was that the kid was Satan’s child and he can do nasty things with a look. The ultimate scene for me (I don’t know whether it’s in the new one) was when this dude went to the cemetery to check out an infant’s grave. You know how kids my age at that time perceive graves. They’re like the mosh pit for ghosts. So when I saw this scene with strong winds and thunder could be heard from the background, I was mortified more than I could ever remember. So to me, personally, Omen was a classic. As I don’t fancy horror movies so much, for me to say that is a compliment on its own.
Still taking about movies, people are most probably getting all psyched up for Dead Man’s Chest or Superman. But the one movie I’m looking forward to this summer is Lady in the Water. It’s an M. Night Syamalan movie. And I love his movies. Don’t you? Everybody loved The Sixth Sense. But there are mixed reactions since Signs came out. Some people don’t like movies with alien in them – period. These are the same kind of people who hates War of the Worlds. I’m not saying I’m an alien buff myself but as long as they portray the concept in a believable manner, it’s fine with me. Anyway, Lady in the Water is about an apartment superintendent, played by Paul Giamatti (you should see him in Sideways. Absolutely brilliant) who one day discovers a woman in the apartment’s pool. It turns out, she’s a fairy tale character and he has to help her find her back home. Only Syamalan could come up with a story like this. Aren’t you intrigued how this story is going to turn out? I’m excited just thinking about it. Forget about the Man of Steel, although Johnny Depp as a pirate is still quite amusing, and check out the latest from M Night Syamalan. Man, I sound like a promotional gig.
Nanu, nanu!
Sunday, June 18, 2006
My Stupendous Weekend
Moving away from the World Cup. My weekend has been anything but stupendous. I spent the whole of Saturday playing FM, just because I haven’t played it in almost two weeks because of the exams and I really missed it. And it was hard for me to stop too because my team are doing so well. I’m at the top of the league, the top four highest ratings are dominated by my players and my main striker is leading the goal-scoring charts. Oh sorry, talking football again.
Anyway, I thought I might try something different today. Socializing, I mean. But my hopes were dashes as I was assigned to drive to Kuala Selangor to deliver some things to my younger brother. Well, ain’t that just perfect. And it further frustrated me when Pidot called and asked me whether I was coming to the wedding. “What wedding?” I asked in return, fearing that I may misread an e-mail sometime ago or worse, deleted it without even opening. “You’re friend, Zurin,”. Oh shit, that was today?
You see, Pidot is a schoolmate of mine from SAS. 5 years through and thru. Zurin is from my batch at UTP. She’s part of Ara’s clique. If you ask me, they’re the closest version of The Plastics in UTP. Though, a mild version at that. While Ara is Regina, Zurin is probably Karen. Which is why I could never figure out how the hell do guys keep falling for her. Anyway, alas she found someone who gives enough shit about her to actually ask her hand in marriage. That man is Pidot’s elder brother. So Pidot disclosed to me this ‘sumptuous’ information and invited me to the wedding about late last year when we were hanging out. He did mention it’s supposed to be in June but I totally forgot about it six months later. And since I was at Kuala Selangor at that time, no way I could make it to Subang in less than 10 minutes. But, hope is not lost. The kenduri at the groom’s is scheduled next weekend at Taiping. It is tempting. You know, just to actually see Zurin on the pelamin looking shy-shy cat. It would definitely look weird. Just like a platypus looks weird. But nothing’s been arranged yet. We’ll see how the plan develops.
One more thing about Zurin is that she’s the same age as Pidot and me. So for Pidot to call her ‘kakak ipar’, uh , well, I could only imagine his despair. And to think that this woman will be the one having babies with your elder brother, man, it’ll be one those disturbing thoughts worse than the topless scene in ‘There’s Something About Mary’.
Moving away again…
Newsflash – I’m still broke. Would you believe I have yet to receive my first paycheck? How about the reward for my hard labour in May? How am I supposed to take Najua out for a spa date like this? Oh speaking of spas, one of things I’m planning to do with my first ever super duper salary is test out the spa at The Ascott. I’ve been eyeing that place ever since I saw the brochure in Jes’ room. I know it’s overpriced but this is not exactly Bali, is it? I would definitely invite Jes to come along. And probably even Sasa, ‘cause I know she would love the idea spending a weekend at a swank spa. And because I like to see her half-naked.
You know, I do hope they would pay me quickly because the longer this drags on, the more imaginative and unachievable my wishes would become. Getting an IPod, for instance. Or a stereo for Valerie. I know by the end of they day I would left ruing, “Where have all my money gone?” and standing in my bedroom with nothing but a brand new pair of shorts from F.O.S to show for.
Another tempting thought that hit me earlier is to get a World Cup jersey. Although I don’t know what nation I fancy yet. Probably Italy, despite people kept saying to me how ugly it looks. Well, I said the same about Holland’s orange kit and people don’t give a fuck about my opinion too.
But the one thing I would definitely do is get my PS2 fixed. So I can play Winning Eleven 10 endlessly ‘till my thumb hurts and invite friends over to join me until the wee hours of the morning. I know Gambit will love this idea. Apart from his weird fetish for a certain body part of a woman, this is the only thing that could excite him.
Oh shit. How am I gonna get to Taiping if I ain’t got no fuckin, money!? Ah shait. Haih, OMG.
Anyway, I thought I might try something different today. Socializing, I mean. But my hopes were dashes as I was assigned to drive to Kuala Selangor to deliver some things to my younger brother. Well, ain’t that just perfect. And it further frustrated me when Pidot called and asked me whether I was coming to the wedding. “What wedding?” I asked in return, fearing that I may misread an e-mail sometime ago or worse, deleted it without even opening. “You’re friend, Zurin,”. Oh shit, that was today?
You see, Pidot is a schoolmate of mine from SAS. 5 years through and thru. Zurin is from my batch at UTP. She’s part of Ara’s clique. If you ask me, they’re the closest version of The Plastics in UTP. Though, a mild version at that. While Ara is Regina, Zurin is probably Karen. Which is why I could never figure out how the hell do guys keep falling for her. Anyway, alas she found someone who gives enough shit about her to actually ask her hand in marriage. That man is Pidot’s elder brother. So Pidot disclosed to me this ‘sumptuous’ information and invited me to the wedding about late last year when we were hanging out. He did mention it’s supposed to be in June but I totally forgot about it six months later. And since I was at Kuala Selangor at that time, no way I could make it to Subang in less than 10 minutes. But, hope is not lost. The kenduri at the groom’s is scheduled next weekend at Taiping. It is tempting. You know, just to actually see Zurin on the pelamin looking shy-shy cat. It would definitely look weird. Just like a platypus looks weird. But nothing’s been arranged yet. We’ll see how the plan develops.
One more thing about Zurin is that she’s the same age as Pidot and me. So for Pidot to call her ‘kakak ipar’, uh , well, I could only imagine his despair. And to think that this woman will be the one having babies with your elder brother, man, it’ll be one those disturbing thoughts worse than the topless scene in ‘There’s Something About Mary’.
Moving away again…
Newsflash – I’m still broke. Would you believe I have yet to receive my first paycheck? How about the reward for my hard labour in May? How am I supposed to take Najua out for a spa date like this? Oh speaking of spas, one of things I’m planning to do with my first ever super duper salary is test out the spa at The Ascott. I’ve been eyeing that place ever since I saw the brochure in Jes’ room. I know it’s overpriced but this is not exactly Bali, is it? I would definitely invite Jes to come along. And probably even Sasa, ‘cause I know she would love the idea spending a weekend at a swank spa. And because I like to see her half-naked.
You know, I do hope they would pay me quickly because the longer this drags on, the more imaginative and unachievable my wishes would become. Getting an IPod, for instance. Or a stereo for Valerie. I know by the end of they day I would left ruing, “Where have all my money gone?” and standing in my bedroom with nothing but a brand new pair of shorts from F.O.S to show for.
Another tempting thought that hit me earlier is to get a World Cup jersey. Although I don’t know what nation I fancy yet. Probably Italy, despite people kept saying to me how ugly it looks. Well, I said the same about Holland’s orange kit and people don’t give a fuck about my opinion too.
But the one thing I would definitely do is get my PS2 fixed. So I can play Winning Eleven 10 endlessly ‘till my thumb hurts and invite friends over to join me until the wee hours of the morning. I know Gambit will love this idea. Apart from his weird fetish for a certain body part of a woman, this is the only thing that could excite him.
Oh shit. How am I gonna get to Taiping if I ain’t got no fuckin, money!? Ah shait. Haih, OMG.
Italy's Flaw
After watching USA somehow held on to a draw with Italy, I have discovered a huge flaw in the Azzuri’s attack. You see, while Gilardino and Luca Toni are very capable strikers they are not exactly what you’d call creative forwards. What I mean is they do not have the mesmerizing ability to dribble and whiz past defenders. Their specialty is just to provide the perfect finishing touch – full stop. They can shoot and head but they can’t do step-overs, back-heel passes or have amazing close control ability that make the ball appears magnetized to their feet. Same story with the subs. You have Iaquinta and Inzaghi. Powerful and clever strikers but not exactly the magical types. Which is why they have to be dependent on the midfielders. The Totti’s, Pirlo’s and Del Piero’s. Which in turn lies Italy’s weakness. For their strikers to hit the net, they have to rely on set-pieces, crosses and through-passes. So to stop Italy from scoring or reduce their chances to scraps is simple - just stop the midfielders. Cut the supply. Or play the offside trap, like the US did so brilliantly. If you do this, the only chance Italy have of scoring is if one of the defenders makes a mistake (take note Samuel Kuffour). Which is why Italy is so in need of another Roberto Baggio. Now, that was a magical player. This would explain why we were so toothless in front of goal in 2002. And we depended on Vieri for inspiration? Yeah, sure he scored a lot in ’98 but we still had Baggio back then. So basically, yeah, I’m shit worried. How do we expect to go al the way when our sole source of creativity lies on the shoulder of a not fully fit Totti? A player who has yet to make his mark in any international tournament? Del Piero is past his best and Pirlo operates to deep. You look at the other teams and each of them has their own magic players. The sort of player that can make something out of nothing. England has Rooney and Owen. Even Crouch has that uncanny ability to flick the ball to the right places. Holland has Robben and Van Persie. Portugal has Cristiano Ronaldo and Figo. France has Henry and Ribery. Argentina has Messi, Tevez and Saviola. Brazil has, well, the only player I suspect who can’t dribble in the team is probably Dida. The 2006 WC doesn’t look good for Italy. When I saw Argentina thumped Serbia and Montenegro the other day, I have never felt fear watching a performance like that since I saw Arsenal beat Leed United in the opening game of the season of the Premiership when they started that 49-game unbeaten run. The fluidity and acuteness was so mesmerizing you can almost hear ‘Take My Breath Away’ in the background.
But, a fan is still a fan. Just as the day when Ahn Jung Hwan broke my heart, I am still rooting for Italy. Maybe my hypothesis is wrong. Maybe Totti will become the player he is at Roma. Maybe Luca Toni will start scoring like mad. Maybe Italy will play seven matches. Maybe Cannavaro willl receive the gold-laden trophy from Sepp Blatter on July 9th. Maybe, just maybe, my 12 years of disappointment will end.
But, a fan is still a fan. Just as the day when Ahn Jung Hwan broke my heart, I am still rooting for Italy. Maybe my hypothesis is wrong. Maybe Totti will become the player he is at Roma. Maybe Luca Toni will start scoring like mad. Maybe Italy will play seven matches. Maybe Cannavaro willl receive the gold-laden trophy from Sepp Blatter on July 9th. Maybe, just maybe, my 12 years of disappointment will end.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
The World Cup
It is inevitable that we have to talk about it – the World Cup. Ah yes, the time has dawn upon us yet again. It’s the summer when every football fan on the whole planet rejoices. It’s that time again when a man’s truly best friend is the TV (not that is has been otherwise before). The only thing that can budge me from the TV during a live game is if Najua were to stand half-naked next to it, wearing red lingerie, hands on hips and seductively licking her lips. Speaking about Najua, I did saw her yesterday at Alpha Angle, albeit from afar. She was with another chick who I didn’t recognize and a guy who could only be slightly younger than Bobby Robson. I don’t want to theorize about the possible connections or supposed scenario but interesting point was Najua looked uncharacteristically un-hot. She wore a loose blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Sporting her glasses and a ponytail she could pass off as a geeky student from Sedaya College. But we know better, don’t we? It’s just proof that she is human after all and not a hot 24/7 fashionista that I thought she is. And, may I add, she would look stunning in red lingerie.
Back to the WC, I was at Alpha Angle doing the weekend grocery shopping at Jusco and one of the things I noticed at the supermarket was that the snacks section was significantly depleting. Especially Cheezeles. Clearly people are stocking up for those late night sessions. For me, my big late night session will come Tuesday morning when Italy take on Ghana. A 3am kick-off time. Something tells me I would not enjoy coming to work on Tuesday. Did you read about the guy who quit his job just so can watch every live match? Well, it’s almost insane. He fells he’s marketable enough to land another job straightaway after July 9th. Well, who are we to argue?
Have you noticed how the Internet connection is slow at certain times of the day recently? I have a spot on feeling that the WC has definitely something to do with it. An article in today’s paper mentioned that the amount of information coming and going from Germany is predicted to be around 15 trillion bytes. The amount of data equivalent to 100 million books. 100 million! That’s just nucking futs.
Let’s leave the World Cup at that for the moment, shall we? I’m practically booked every night until early July. Unless, of course, if Jes invites me over for a snog. That reminds me, her tenure in KL is almost over and I have yet to dip in at the 22nd floor Jacuzzi. Oh fuckin’ hell. I’d better call Najua to find out if she’s free for a threesome.
Back to the WC, I was at Alpha Angle doing the weekend grocery shopping at Jusco and one of the things I noticed at the supermarket was that the snacks section was significantly depleting. Especially Cheezeles. Clearly people are stocking up for those late night sessions. For me, my big late night session will come Tuesday morning when Italy take on Ghana. A 3am kick-off time. Something tells me I would not enjoy coming to work on Tuesday. Did you read about the guy who quit his job just so can watch every live match? Well, it’s almost insane. He fells he’s marketable enough to land another job straightaway after July 9th. Well, who are we to argue?
Have you noticed how the Internet connection is slow at certain times of the day recently? I have a spot on feeling that the WC has definitely something to do with it. An article in today’s paper mentioned that the amount of information coming and going from Germany is predicted to be around 15 trillion bytes. The amount of data equivalent to 100 million books. 100 million! That’s just nucking futs.
Let’s leave the World Cup at that for the moment, shall we? I’m practically booked every night until early July. Unless, of course, if Jes invites me over for a snog. That reminds me, her tenure in KL is almost over and I have yet to dip in at the 22nd floor Jacuzzi. Oh fuckin’ hell. I’d better call Najua to find out if she’s free for a threesome.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Employed (and Women)
Oh, yes. It has finally happened. Almost 18 excruciating months in the making. I am now employed, as an auditor, in a Big Four. Oh yeaaaah!! Do I make you horny, babe!? Do I!?
You know, I’m probably the only idiot in the world to get so excited on being an auditor. Arguably one of the dullest jobs one could ever have and yet I felt like Tom Cruise on Oprah when I first heard the news. It was 5.37 pm on a Friday, May the 5th. It was raining and I just got into my car, which was parked in a lot off Jalan Yap Kwan Seng, and I was all drenched Ah, what a lovely day that was.
Personally, I see this is as not as just a job offer, per se. It’s like a form of recognition. It’s a way of the established organization saying to you, hey, we think you’re good enough. Come and join us to move forward. It’s quite flattering, really. Actually, it was more than that. It was almost an honour. Especially if it’s coming from a huge organization and to me, Deloitte is certainly one of the biggest (although the carpeting at the office might suggest otherwise). And apart from that, it provides me with a new lease on life. For starters I could finally write in the ‘Occupation’ box when I’m filling in forms other than just ‘student’ and my monthly income would no longer has to be in the region of 'below RM1000'. I could unsubscribe to JobsDB and JobStreet. I do not have to wait and go through religiously the Saturday edition of The Star. My parents would finally stop asking me rhetorical questions which includes the word ‘job’ in them. My father would stop asking me ‘why’ and my mother would stop comparing me with my cousin or her boss’ daughter’s friend’s other twin. And soon when the pay starts to accumulate, the good days will return. I can dine at Chili’s, Ciao, Chandelier or even at the Ritz-Carlton. I can drink expensive coffees, watch Actorlympics and go out on flamboyant dates. (sniff)Oh I am so happy I’m crying.
But hold your horses. There are some things that I have to forego upon undertaking this employment thingy. First is time. I used to have loads of them. Sometimes too much. Fetching the mail from the mailbox can be a significant moment in a day. Nowadays, I only open them 3 days later (if it’s important). And it’s only May for God’s sake! It’s supposed to be an off-peak period and here I am lumbering home at night with only enough energy left to bring my soddy ass to bed. It must be that I getting too fat because the job is not that demanding (yet). But the saddest part of all was leaving BITS.
BITS stands for Banking Industry Training Scheme and it’s a 5-months course held at Institute of Bankers Malaysia (IBBM). It’s an English communication skills course targeted for unemployed graduates so they are at least articulately competent when they enter into the banking industry once they graduate from the course. Yes, fine, whatever. I joined simply because I wanted to do something useful while doing my part-time ACCA classes. This one starts at 9 and ends at 4. Loads of break time in between and half-day on Fridays. Plus, they’re paying me 600 quid to learn English. So, I thought, why not? I entered with an intention to treat it nothing more than as a side dish. But my arrogance took a lesson merely 2 weeks into the course. It turned out I enjoyed it.
Basically, the BITS students’ main highlight on a day to day basis was just attending it. And since it’s just simple material, really and with hardly no stress involved, it ended up being like going back to kindergarten all over again. Just that we’re all 20-something people with Bachelor Degrees. Practically, the main agenda everyday is simply having fun. Which brings me to Kat.
Ah, yes, Kat. I get to sit next to her about a month into BITS due to a relocation of our class. I sat with someone else before that (not worth mentioning). So, we got to know each other and somehow we never looked back. Of all the people, I enjoy talking to her the most because she’s the only who’s ever heard of Nicholas Sparks and understood all my sarcastic comments. Inevitably, of course, we came quite close. Albeit her naughty demeanor that I have to put up with every single day. When I returned the call from Deloitte’s HR Department to confirm my job offer on Monday, she was sitting right next to me. When I hung up and began punching the air in true victory style, I turned to look at her surprisingly genuine shocked expression and it somehow seemed unreal. “Kau dah nak pegi?” she asked, half-heartedly, as the slight tremble of her voice trailed off. I just nodded, feeling guilty to feel joyous while she was contemplating with the sudden news of my imminent departure from BITS. For the first time, I could sense she was not kidding. There was no sudden burst of laughter. Just genuine sadness. It melted my heart. Then she asked for all the details such as what’s the job, when would I start, where my office would be, etc. I filled her in. Fortunately though, I still had a whole week to kill before heading off to my new job. So it was not all that sudden. A long slow farewell, befitting the best student in class (excuse me for bragging). There was another student who was quite on par with me in class but she left earlier for IBM. Jessy stayed about 2 months and although she got the legs, I got the charm, and I stayed longer, hence better remembered. However, Friday was Wesak Day so my whole week was actually until Thursday. Well, Thursday afternoon because I had to go pick up my offer letter that afternoon. So, after lunch I shook everyone’s hand and bid them adieu. Somehow, in the midst of all this commotion, Kat managed to reserve herself away until the last minute. But not quite too because in the end, she made me wait for her until she finishes her Zohor prayers. A drama queen till the last moment. When she finally reappears, there was that look again. The look which says, “I’m happy that you’re leaving for something better but I’m sad that you’re leaving me,” I must admit, I felt a little heartache myself. I extended my hand and took hers in mine. Then I pulled her towards me and hugged her. It was a sad déjà vu because just 4 days earlier Aritha had left me too for Chennai. Probably to mingle with Aishwarya Rai. Losing two of my angels in such a short space of time. Only the memory of how the warmth of her body felt helped me overcome this grief of separation.
But all that drama turned out to be too melodramatic because just a few days later I was assigned to a client place which was located 2 building blocks away from IBBM. So I parked at my usual place and stopped by to see the guys on my way to work. I was welcomed with open arms, naturally. It felt like I never left. What can I say? They all love me. It’s the same with Kat. We acted like nothing happened. But I was over joyous though. Seeing her again felt so reassuring. It was no until the week after that I think we really began to miss each other because she’s been SMSing me practically everyday since and I was more than happy to reply to every one of them. She even called me up last Friday just to share what’s been going on with the class since I left. I had my hands full with work then but there was no way I was going to turn down the call. Ah good times.
Haih, enough about Kat. Let’s talk about Najua. Oh yes, the now single-though-I’m-not-quite-sure-available-but-definitely-hot Najua. When I was at KLIA to bid Aritha adieu for her Indian stint, she (Aritha) and Sasa talked about how they are glad that she finally broke off with her ex (they both were Najua’s housemates at UTP, y’see). They say he didn’t deserve her and she is better off with someone else. Then, somehow one of them, I couldn’t remember whether it was Aritha or Sasa, came up with the suggestion that I should try have a chance with Najua. It sounded so compelling at first but then Sasa retracted, saying that “maybe Faizad shouldn’t” and left the statement hanging. Aritha inabjectedly continued the unsaid thought, “because Faizad tak layak?” Sasa just giggled. Now, I didn’t know whether that was an insult to me or a compliment to Najua. Probably a bit of both. But there are no hard feelings because I know I don’t deserve Najua. Apart from height she outclasses me in every department. Both Aritha and Sasa pointed out that Najua is such a motherly figure and what a good cook she is and not to mention her love and care goes beyond than what is normally expected. I, on the other hand, am a slob with a remote and a TV in front of him and the only thing I can conjure in the kitchen if it has the word ‘instant’ on the packaging. But that doesn’t mean I should give up on Najua entirely. Besides, she and I are on good terms, contrary to popular belief. Every boy could afford a Toyota or a Honda one way or the other but he always has that inkling feeling for a Porsche. But there’s a snag though. Someone else is currently taking the Porsche out for little drives around town during the weekends. He hasn’t own it yet but the Porsche seems to like the company of this 39 year old mat saleh (ooh maybe I shouldn’t have said that, ah fuck it). But the Porsche’s friend, the S2000 aka Marina Hani aka Sandra Oh seems to think otherwise and trying to convince everyone than it’s more than just rental. The Porsche consequently admitted that maybe, just maybe, that she could be owned by the mat saleh in 5 years time. 5 years time!? You trippin’? In 5 years time she is going to go out of production and the dude belongs in a junkyard. But hey, it’s just my opinion. Besides that, there’s another snag. The Jag XK-Kat? Now that one is currently owned. Not such a good scenario, is it? Somehow all this feel so familiar….
In a totally unrelated news, guess what Ity bought me for my birthday? A chick lit book titled Goodnight Nobody by Jennifer Weiner. 5 months late considering I was born in January but hey, better late than never. And God help me that this will be my only chick lit material to be registered under my possession. Surprisingly though, I quite enjoy reading it. It’s a bit like Desperate Housewives Season 1. A mysterious death in a quiet little suburbia. But unlike Teri Hatcher’s clumsiness, the witty humour actually works. Anyway, Ity’s birthday just passed last May. I’ve got until October to figure out what to give her in return. Maybe some red lingerie. Some whipped cream, chocolate syrup, strawberries…
You know, I’m probably the only idiot in the world to get so excited on being an auditor. Arguably one of the dullest jobs one could ever have and yet I felt like Tom Cruise on Oprah when I first heard the news. It was 5.37 pm on a Friday, May the 5th. It was raining and I just got into my car, which was parked in a lot off Jalan Yap Kwan Seng, and I was all drenched Ah, what a lovely day that was.
Personally, I see this is as not as just a job offer, per se. It’s like a form of recognition. It’s a way of the established organization saying to you, hey, we think you’re good enough. Come and join us to move forward. It’s quite flattering, really. Actually, it was more than that. It was almost an honour. Especially if it’s coming from a huge organization and to me, Deloitte is certainly one of the biggest (although the carpeting at the office might suggest otherwise). And apart from that, it provides me with a new lease on life. For starters I could finally write in the ‘Occupation’ box when I’m filling in forms other than just ‘student’ and my monthly income would no longer has to be in the region of 'below RM1000'. I could unsubscribe to JobsDB and JobStreet. I do not have to wait and go through religiously the Saturday edition of The Star. My parents would finally stop asking me rhetorical questions which includes the word ‘job’ in them. My father would stop asking me ‘why’ and my mother would stop comparing me with my cousin or her boss’ daughter’s friend’s other twin. And soon when the pay starts to accumulate, the good days will return. I can dine at Chili’s, Ciao, Chandelier or even at the Ritz-Carlton. I can drink expensive coffees, watch Actorlympics and go out on flamboyant dates. (sniff)Oh I am so happy I’m crying.
But hold your horses. There are some things that I have to forego upon undertaking this employment thingy. First is time. I used to have loads of them. Sometimes too much. Fetching the mail from the mailbox can be a significant moment in a day. Nowadays, I only open them 3 days later (if it’s important). And it’s only May for God’s sake! It’s supposed to be an off-peak period and here I am lumbering home at night with only enough energy left to bring my soddy ass to bed. It must be that I getting too fat because the job is not that demanding (yet). But the saddest part of all was leaving BITS.
BITS stands for Banking Industry Training Scheme and it’s a 5-months course held at Institute of Bankers Malaysia (IBBM). It’s an English communication skills course targeted for unemployed graduates so they are at least articulately competent when they enter into the banking industry once they graduate from the course. Yes, fine, whatever. I joined simply because I wanted to do something useful while doing my part-time ACCA classes. This one starts at 9 and ends at 4. Loads of break time in between and half-day on Fridays. Plus, they’re paying me 600 quid to learn English. So, I thought, why not? I entered with an intention to treat it nothing more than as a side dish. But my arrogance took a lesson merely 2 weeks into the course. It turned out I enjoyed it.
Basically, the BITS students’ main highlight on a day to day basis was just attending it. And since it’s just simple material, really and with hardly no stress involved, it ended up being like going back to kindergarten all over again. Just that we’re all 20-something people with Bachelor Degrees. Practically, the main agenda everyday is simply having fun. Which brings me to Kat.
Ah, yes, Kat. I get to sit next to her about a month into BITS due to a relocation of our class. I sat with someone else before that (not worth mentioning). So, we got to know each other and somehow we never looked back. Of all the people, I enjoy talking to her the most because she’s the only who’s ever heard of Nicholas Sparks and understood all my sarcastic comments. Inevitably, of course, we came quite close. Albeit her naughty demeanor that I have to put up with every single day. When I returned the call from Deloitte’s HR Department to confirm my job offer on Monday, she was sitting right next to me. When I hung up and began punching the air in true victory style, I turned to look at her surprisingly genuine shocked expression and it somehow seemed unreal. “Kau dah nak pegi?” she asked, half-heartedly, as the slight tremble of her voice trailed off. I just nodded, feeling guilty to feel joyous while she was contemplating with the sudden news of my imminent departure from BITS. For the first time, I could sense she was not kidding. There was no sudden burst of laughter. Just genuine sadness. It melted my heart. Then she asked for all the details such as what’s the job, when would I start, where my office would be, etc. I filled her in. Fortunately though, I still had a whole week to kill before heading off to my new job. So it was not all that sudden. A long slow farewell, befitting the best student in class (excuse me for bragging). There was another student who was quite on par with me in class but she left earlier for IBM. Jessy stayed about 2 months and although she got the legs, I got the charm, and I stayed longer, hence better remembered. However, Friday was Wesak Day so my whole week was actually until Thursday. Well, Thursday afternoon because I had to go pick up my offer letter that afternoon. So, after lunch I shook everyone’s hand and bid them adieu. Somehow, in the midst of all this commotion, Kat managed to reserve herself away until the last minute. But not quite too because in the end, she made me wait for her until she finishes her Zohor prayers. A drama queen till the last moment. When she finally reappears, there was that look again. The look which says, “I’m happy that you’re leaving for something better but I’m sad that you’re leaving me,” I must admit, I felt a little heartache myself. I extended my hand and took hers in mine. Then I pulled her towards me and hugged her. It was a sad déjà vu because just 4 days earlier Aritha had left me too for Chennai. Probably to mingle with Aishwarya Rai. Losing two of my angels in such a short space of time. Only the memory of how the warmth of her body felt helped me overcome this grief of separation.
But all that drama turned out to be too melodramatic because just a few days later I was assigned to a client place which was located 2 building blocks away from IBBM. So I parked at my usual place and stopped by to see the guys on my way to work. I was welcomed with open arms, naturally. It felt like I never left. What can I say? They all love me. It’s the same with Kat. We acted like nothing happened. But I was over joyous though. Seeing her again felt so reassuring. It was no until the week after that I think we really began to miss each other because she’s been SMSing me practically everyday since and I was more than happy to reply to every one of them. She even called me up last Friday just to share what’s been going on with the class since I left. I had my hands full with work then but there was no way I was going to turn down the call. Ah good times.
Haih, enough about Kat. Let’s talk about Najua. Oh yes, the now single-though-I’m-not-quite-sure-available-but-definitely-hot Najua. When I was at KLIA to bid Aritha adieu for her Indian stint, she (Aritha) and Sasa talked about how they are glad that she finally broke off with her ex (they both were Najua’s housemates at UTP, y’see). They say he didn’t deserve her and she is better off with someone else. Then, somehow one of them, I couldn’t remember whether it was Aritha or Sasa, came up with the suggestion that I should try have a chance with Najua. It sounded so compelling at first but then Sasa retracted, saying that “maybe Faizad shouldn’t” and left the statement hanging. Aritha inabjectedly continued the unsaid thought, “because Faizad tak layak?” Sasa just giggled. Now, I didn’t know whether that was an insult to me or a compliment to Najua. Probably a bit of both. But there are no hard feelings because I know I don’t deserve Najua. Apart from height she outclasses me in every department. Both Aritha and Sasa pointed out that Najua is such a motherly figure and what a good cook she is and not to mention her love and care goes beyond than what is normally expected. I, on the other hand, am a slob with a remote and a TV in front of him and the only thing I can conjure in the kitchen if it has the word ‘instant’ on the packaging. But that doesn’t mean I should give up on Najua entirely. Besides, she and I are on good terms, contrary to popular belief. Every boy could afford a Toyota or a Honda one way or the other but he always has that inkling feeling for a Porsche. But there’s a snag though. Someone else is currently taking the Porsche out for little drives around town during the weekends. He hasn’t own it yet but the Porsche seems to like the company of this 39 year old mat saleh (ooh maybe I shouldn’t have said that, ah fuck it). But the Porsche’s friend, the S2000 aka Marina Hani aka Sandra Oh seems to think otherwise and trying to convince everyone than it’s more than just rental. The Porsche consequently admitted that maybe, just maybe, that she could be owned by the mat saleh in 5 years time. 5 years time!? You trippin’? In 5 years time she is going to go out of production and the dude belongs in a junkyard. But hey, it’s just my opinion. Besides that, there’s another snag. The Jag XK-Kat? Now that one is currently owned. Not such a good scenario, is it? Somehow all this feel so familiar….
In a totally unrelated news, guess what Ity bought me for my birthday? A chick lit book titled Goodnight Nobody by Jennifer Weiner. 5 months late considering I was born in January but hey, better late than never. And God help me that this will be my only chick lit material to be registered under my possession. Surprisingly though, I quite enjoy reading it. It’s a bit like Desperate Housewives Season 1. A mysterious death in a quiet little suburbia. But unlike Teri Hatcher’s clumsiness, the witty humour actually works. Anyway, Ity’s birthday just passed last May. I’ve got until October to figure out what to give her in return. Maybe some red lingerie. Some whipped cream, chocolate syrup, strawberries…
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Excerpt
Men don’t cry. Hell, the last time he cried was when he watched Armageddon. And that was in a large darkened hall. Nobody noticed. It would feel like a crime should he cry now. It would just be so uncharacteristic of him. It was her who’s leaving, not him. The women should be the ones with the drama, not the men. Men are supposed to be the comforting people. Saying to everybody, “Everything’s gonna be alright,”. They’re the ones to pull on an encouraging smile while the others dabble with their Kleenexes. And yet, at that moment, he felt the roles are momentarily reversed.
“You look good to go,” he says, trying to avert his thoughts elsewhere from the melodramatic one developing in his head.
“Yup,” she replied, still looking down, doing final checks through her suitcase. “You are coming, right?” as she finally looks up. Ah, those eyes. He’s going to miss those eyes. They’re so deep you can swim in them.
“To the airport, you mean? Oh yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re the love of my life. How could I not be there to whisk my lover away?”
“Lover? Huh, right, along with all the other women you’ve been fooling around with,”
Yes, but none as special as you. Oh God, how he wish he could say that out loud!
“Well, don’t just stand there,” as she finally finished. “Be a man and help me with my luggage,”
He snapped out of his little dream and cordially obliged, as he always did since the years he’d known her. As he walked behind her it still amazes him how she maintains to look incredibly beautiful compared to the other women he had met. Of course, he couldn’t tell her. Quite simply she wouldn’t believe him. It would be more likely to be noted as a sarcastic comment coming from him. Thus, has the potential to hurt her feelings. A risk not worth taking.
As he arranged her suitcases in the car boot, he tried to look her up in the eyes and say how much he’ll miss her. But he stopped short. The words wouldn’t come out. A clumsy grin, instead, took its place. In turn, she gave a curious look. Puzzled. He pulled away.
“It would only be for two months, right?” asking the question he himself already knew the answer.
“Yes, only two months,” she replied while fiddling with her handphone.
“That shouldn’t be long, right?”
“Time flies. You said it yourself,” as she made her way to the passenger side of the car.
“Yeah,” he answered to himself softly. He recalls it. But for once, he has trouble believing his own words. “I certainly hopes so,” as the lid came down with a thud. He was already missing her.
Whoa, I am so writing a novel one day. Still needs a little more work though.
“You look good to go,” he says, trying to avert his thoughts elsewhere from the melodramatic one developing in his head.
“Yup,” she replied, still looking down, doing final checks through her suitcase. “You are coming, right?” as she finally looks up. Ah, those eyes. He’s going to miss those eyes. They’re so deep you can swim in them.
“To the airport, you mean? Oh yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re the love of my life. How could I not be there to whisk my lover away?”
“Lover? Huh, right, along with all the other women you’ve been fooling around with,”
Yes, but none as special as you. Oh God, how he wish he could say that out loud!
“Well, don’t just stand there,” as she finally finished. “Be a man and help me with my luggage,”
He snapped out of his little dream and cordially obliged, as he always did since the years he’d known her. As he walked behind her it still amazes him how she maintains to look incredibly beautiful compared to the other women he had met. Of course, he couldn’t tell her. Quite simply she wouldn’t believe him. It would be more likely to be noted as a sarcastic comment coming from him. Thus, has the potential to hurt her feelings. A risk not worth taking.
As he arranged her suitcases in the car boot, he tried to look her up in the eyes and say how much he’ll miss her. But he stopped short. The words wouldn’t come out. A clumsy grin, instead, took its place. In turn, she gave a curious look. Puzzled. He pulled away.
“It would only be for two months, right?” asking the question he himself already knew the answer.
“Yes, only two months,” she replied while fiddling with her handphone.
“That shouldn’t be long, right?”
“Time flies. You said it yourself,” as she made her way to the passenger side of the car.
“Yeah,” he answered to himself softly. He recalls it. But for once, he has trouble believing his own words. “I certainly hopes so,” as the lid came down with a thud. He was already missing her.
Whoa, I am so writing a novel one day. Still needs a little more work though.
Traffic Problems
I hate it when a car is doing 60km/h on the right lane, signaling left using his indicator lights but never actually changing lanes.
I hate it when an old lady crosses a clearly busy road by sprinting and then slowed down to almost a complete stop when she reaches the middle of the road. As if she has suddenly developed an aura of indestructibility around her and the world should take notice.
I hate it when a motorcyclist speeding on the wrong side of the road and then honking furiously with its pathetic sound to car entering from an intersection and made proper use of his indicators.
I hate it when drivers translate the red light at pedestrian crossings as “if there’s people, just go around them”.
I hate it when a car’s only functioning taillights is the third brake light.
I hate it when people cut queues at the petrol station. And pretend to look away when you’re giving them the finger.
I hate it when drivers couldn’t grasp the concept of signal before you change lanes, not after or ¾ through.
I hate it when the wives of rich husbands assume their expensive cars should come hand in hand with terrible driving etiquettes.
I hate it when a young beautiful woman drives an impeccable and sleek looking Z4. It makes me wish that I am her boyfriend.
I hate it when an old lady crosses a clearly busy road by sprinting and then slowed down to almost a complete stop when she reaches the middle of the road. As if she has suddenly developed an aura of indestructibility around her and the world should take notice.
I hate it when a motorcyclist speeding on the wrong side of the road and then honking furiously with its pathetic sound to car entering from an intersection and made proper use of his indicators.
I hate it when drivers translate the red light at pedestrian crossings as “if there’s people, just go around them”.
I hate it when a car’s only functioning taillights is the third brake light.
I hate it when people cut queues at the petrol station. And pretend to look away when you’re giving them the finger.
I hate it when drivers couldn’t grasp the concept of signal before you change lanes, not after or ¾ through.
I hate it when the wives of rich husbands assume their expensive cars should come hand in hand with terrible driving etiquettes.
I hate it when a young beautiful woman drives an impeccable and sleek looking Z4. It makes me wish that I am her boyfriend.
He's Just Not That Into You
It annoys me immensely when a woman asks me this question “Cemane nak tau kalau laki tu suka kat kite ke tak?”
Oh bloody fuckin’ please.
You know, it’s fortunate for the girls who asked me this that I’m not the type who gave out harsh and discerning responses rather bluntly. A ‘Simon Cowell treatment ’ as you might call it. The initial thought that occurs to me is that, girl, he’s not that into you. It’s as simple as that. But I know these girls wouldn’t accept those kind of answers. They always look for that ‘underlying meaning’. As if there’s any to begin with. Men are simple minded creatures. We don’t watch Oprah and don’t have a whole section devoted to our literary preferences in bookstores marked ‘Guy Lit’. So after giving them the “Oh brother,” look I gave a calm and resolute response. “Well, I don’t personally know the guy who you are referring to so I wouldn’t know what constitutes or not constitutes as a subtle inclinations of the male subject having any romanticizing thoughts about you.” Throwing the ball back into their park. Let them dwell on the thought for a minute or two. Then I excused myself. I don’t talk to women to discuss about other guys. What’s the point in that? Even guys don’t talk about guys. It’s a classic case of girl like boy but boy is ignorant (which is normal) and unintentionally sending out the wrong messages (stupid but still normal). Should the girl manages somehow to hook the boy, then, whoa, it’s not going to be exactly ‘happily ever after’ kind of fairytale ending. Some of my friends are on that bandwagon and do you know how they react before they answer their phones when the word ‘sayang’ flashes on the LCD screen? They gave out a groan. Sometimes a loud one, sometimes soft, depends on the circumstances but a groan nevertheless. Questions like “Mane?” are the usual issues. You see these girls are so desperate to hang on to their men that they haggle them constantly almost suffocating them. They think that by keeping them on a short leash would serve them better. But this plan would only backfire, sooner or later. Whoa, I’m getting way ahead of myself here.
Anyway, I’d wish women would stop asking me these stupid questions. If you don’t know whether he likes you or not chances are he doesn’t. Move on and let’s change the subject. Good God this is not a topic for weekends.
Oh bloody fuckin’ please.
You know, it’s fortunate for the girls who asked me this that I’m not the type who gave out harsh and discerning responses rather bluntly. A ‘Simon Cowell treatment ’ as you might call it. The initial thought that occurs to me is that, girl, he’s not that into you. It’s as simple as that. But I know these girls wouldn’t accept those kind of answers. They always look for that ‘underlying meaning’. As if there’s any to begin with. Men are simple minded creatures. We don’t watch Oprah and don’t have a whole section devoted to our literary preferences in bookstores marked ‘Guy Lit’. So after giving them the “Oh brother,” look I gave a calm and resolute response. “Well, I don’t personally know the guy who you are referring to so I wouldn’t know what constitutes or not constitutes as a subtle inclinations of the male subject having any romanticizing thoughts about you.” Throwing the ball back into their park. Let them dwell on the thought for a minute or two. Then I excused myself. I don’t talk to women to discuss about other guys. What’s the point in that? Even guys don’t talk about guys. It’s a classic case of girl like boy but boy is ignorant (which is normal) and unintentionally sending out the wrong messages (stupid but still normal). Should the girl manages somehow to hook the boy, then, whoa, it’s not going to be exactly ‘happily ever after’ kind of fairytale ending. Some of my friends are on that bandwagon and do you know how they react before they answer their phones when the word ‘sayang’ flashes on the LCD screen? They gave out a groan. Sometimes a loud one, sometimes soft, depends on the circumstances but a groan nevertheless. Questions like “Mane?” are the usual issues. You see these girls are so desperate to hang on to their men that they haggle them constantly almost suffocating them. They think that by keeping them on a short leash would serve them better. But this plan would only backfire, sooner or later. Whoa, I’m getting way ahead of myself here.
Anyway, I’d wish women would stop asking me these stupid questions. If you don’t know whether he likes you or not chances are he doesn’t. Move on and let’s change the subject. Good God this is not a topic for weekends.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Handbag - Part Deux
Last Friday I went window shopping with Marina Hani and Red at Isetan KLCC. I even got signed-up as a sub-cardholder of Marina’s Isetan membership card. It was one of those Isetan pre-sale days when members receive exclusive entry before everyone else. Only Red is an Isetan member then so obviously falling victim to temptation, Marina took up the opportunity to join in the bandwagon, with me as the adopted son. Why me you ask? Well, because I was being such a gentleman by carrying Marina’s bag while she and Red was going round and round from the shoe department all the way to the lingerie section. I don’t know what kind of bag it is but it’s big enough to put in her laptop. It was kind of heavy. Guess that was why I was there for. The Isetan membership was just an unexpected bonus. But I wasn’t embarrassed carrying Marina’s bag around. In fact, I felt kind of honoured. Want to know why? Because it was a Prada. Most women I know couldn’t even afford such things and yet, me, a Doug Heffernan-esque Malaysian, lugging around KLCC with a Prada bag slung on my right shoulder. So yeah, I could almost feel the envious eyes cast upon me by the shopping women of Isetan. It may be my imagination but what the hell.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
The Dilemma of Saturday Nights
Tomorrow is Saturday. Wait a minute, it already is. Anyway, later later on, Saturday night will hit us and I had a very forgettable one last weekend. Consequently, that has made me, er I don’t know, menggatal, I think, for decent night out with a girl. Problem is, choices are quite limited currently. One’s in London, one has already other plans for a concert and one is still recovering from a shocking news she received earlier to…yesterday. One’s in JB and another in Seremban. One is too busy with work and the other is stuck to her boyfriend like glue. The rest are either also busy with their respective boyfriends (or in the quest of finding one) or just turned dull as of late. What’s left are the ones which I haven’t given a call since late last year. Asking for a night out just out of the blue would almost be the equivalent of a bootie call. Haih, it seems that I have to venture out for a fresh one. Not easy you know. Maybe I could get lucky. Who knows?
I know I’m missing some names here but just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Hopefully she doesn’t have any wedding plans anytime soon. Or baby showers for that matter.
I know I’m missing some names here but just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Hopefully she doesn’t have any wedding plans anytime soon. Or baby showers for that matter.
Handbag
How many times have you walked out of the men’s room and saw a man waiting for his girl at the entrance with her handbag slung over his shoulder while trying his best to look ultimately cool? More than a couple of times, I’m sure. And every time I come across this scenario I could not help but let out a little snicker. Seriously, girls, making your male spouse to hold your handbag in public is one of the most embarrassing stuff you can do to him. Like the other day. It was at KFC, the two girls in front were carrying the tray to the table while the bloke behind, with all that grungy Nirvana Kurt Cobain look, has a substantially large pink handbag clutched in his right fist. See, it doesn’t matter if you look like Dirty Harry, if you carrying a female handbag, you’d still look like a sissy.
This handbag thing, is an ongoing joke you see. Well, at least among the guys that is. Girls will always find the time and reason to make the man ‘be a darlin’ and hold her bag for awhile. And men could rarely say no because they would be automatically be accused of being un-gentleman like if they do. That or the awkward silence during the drive back home. And you will notice the moment he’s in possession of the handbag, the Gaya Mutu Keunggulan pose will come out. Cewah, look at me. Holding handbag also I can still look macho what. Problem is, every guy, including the one holding the handbag, knows that that’s bullshit. If you’re with a handbag, you’ll look like a sissy. He knows it, I know it, the rest of the guys in the shopping mall know it. That is why, the dude with the handbag will never look another man in the eye during this machismo pose. Especially to strangers. Because with friends you can still give out lame excuses despite the fact that you just made them up a few minutes ago but still those things could lead out to a few good laughs. Like with Gambino a couple of weeks back.
His girl, Mawar threw a little BBQ Birthday party for herself and invited a few people over. She had to play the hostess and assistant cook at the same time so guess who got the job of ‘please hold on to my bag while I go running around the place’? The boyfriend, of course. I made fun of him the moment I saw him at the main gate. He could only look down and go ‘yeah, yeah’. Act of love, ha! And you should see his reaction every time Mawar took back her handbag away. He was smiling and mimicking this shoulder exercise as a sign of relief. And every time the handbag returns to him, so does the disappointed look.
You’re probably thinking that because I don’t have a girlfriend then I have yet to be in this demoralizing situation and hence, on the receiving end of these banters. Well, I’m here to tell you how wrong you are. A few weeks back, PD, with Zalina, Sasa, Sarah, Apau, Fifi and Daia. It was night, we were bored, decided to have a little drive around town (so to speak). We all packed into Sarah’s Accent RXS (I know, couldn’t believe it myself) and had a brief stop at a moderately large grocery store (Pasaraya PD is the name if you had to know). And since Sarah was the one doing the driving and I had the smallest bum, I get to become the co-pilot and sat beside the driver. As a bonus I get to hold on to Sarah’s handbag. Oh joy. Well, at least it’s just in the car. She will take it the minute we get out. Or so I hoped. But after parking the car and I somehow decided to be a little “gentleman-ly”, I stepped out of the car with her handbag and presuming that I’ll be handing it to her just before we cross the street. Boleh la die buat sombrono je. I was left holding her handbag, which is in bright gold, if I may add, and crossing the street and into the store. Can you imagine a fat guy in T-shirt and khaki shorts walking around with a bright gold handbag slung over his right arm at night in PD? It was the most painful view. And this happened not once but twice when we had our next stop at 7-11.
So, girls, do realize that it really is embarrassing for you to make your man hold your bag. Especially during shopping. Unless, of course, that is your intention. As for the guys, haha~! Lame ass punks. Gentleman my ass la wey.
This handbag thing, is an ongoing joke you see. Well, at least among the guys that is. Girls will always find the time and reason to make the man ‘be a darlin’ and hold her bag for awhile. And men could rarely say no because they would be automatically be accused of being un-gentleman like if they do. That or the awkward silence during the drive back home. And you will notice the moment he’s in possession of the handbag, the Gaya Mutu Keunggulan pose will come out. Cewah, look at me. Holding handbag also I can still look macho what. Problem is, every guy, including the one holding the handbag, knows that that’s bullshit. If you’re with a handbag, you’ll look like a sissy. He knows it, I know it, the rest of the guys in the shopping mall know it. That is why, the dude with the handbag will never look another man in the eye during this machismo pose. Especially to strangers. Because with friends you can still give out lame excuses despite the fact that you just made them up a few minutes ago but still those things could lead out to a few good laughs. Like with Gambino a couple of weeks back.
His girl, Mawar threw a little BBQ Birthday party for herself and invited a few people over. She had to play the hostess and assistant cook at the same time so guess who got the job of ‘please hold on to my bag while I go running around the place’? The boyfriend, of course. I made fun of him the moment I saw him at the main gate. He could only look down and go ‘yeah, yeah’. Act of love, ha! And you should see his reaction every time Mawar took back her handbag away. He was smiling and mimicking this shoulder exercise as a sign of relief. And every time the handbag returns to him, so does the disappointed look.
You’re probably thinking that because I don’t have a girlfriend then I have yet to be in this demoralizing situation and hence, on the receiving end of these banters. Well, I’m here to tell you how wrong you are. A few weeks back, PD, with Zalina, Sasa, Sarah, Apau, Fifi and Daia. It was night, we were bored, decided to have a little drive around town (so to speak). We all packed into Sarah’s Accent RXS (I know, couldn’t believe it myself) and had a brief stop at a moderately large grocery store (Pasaraya PD is the name if you had to know). And since Sarah was the one doing the driving and I had the smallest bum, I get to become the co-pilot and sat beside the driver. As a bonus I get to hold on to Sarah’s handbag. Oh joy. Well, at least it’s just in the car. She will take it the minute we get out. Or so I hoped. But after parking the car and I somehow decided to be a little “gentleman-ly”, I stepped out of the car with her handbag and presuming that I’ll be handing it to her just before we cross the street. Boleh la die buat sombrono je. I was left holding her handbag, which is in bright gold, if I may add, and crossing the street and into the store. Can you imagine a fat guy in T-shirt and khaki shorts walking around with a bright gold handbag slung over his right arm at night in PD? It was the most painful view. And this happened not once but twice when we had our next stop at 7-11.
So, girls, do realize that it really is embarrassing for you to make your man hold your bag. Especially during shopping. Unless, of course, that is your intention. As for the guys, haha~! Lame ass punks. Gentleman my ass la wey.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Kat
I can’t remember exactly who it was but one of my teachers at secondary school told me during one of those ‘Life Lessons of the Day’ sessions that a lady’s beauty lies with her hands. I’ve always thought that the eyes are the most beautiful part but since I have trouble looking into a mesmerizing pair of eyes and focusing on the conversation at hand at the same time, I figure, looking at the hands sounds like a good alternative. So over a while now, it turned into a trained habit of mine. Only earlier today I was talking to this adorable girl, well, actually, she was the one doing all the talking and I was just listening. Half-listening anyway because I was too busy admiring her hands. She was writing down notes and I thought, my how graceful the way her hands move. They look so soft and delicate. Well, as the elderly would tell you, if a lady has beautiful hands, then it just goes to show how well she can look after herself. And if you think the hands are beautiful, wait till you see the other parts of… well, you know what I mean. She was about to tell me her plans for lunch when I looked up to meet her gaze. She has beautiful eyes. Warm, mysterious and glistening. I, of course, could only hold it for a split second. Then out of the blue she raises her hand and jokingly reported to the trainer that I had purposely hit her with a rolled up piece of paper for no apparent reason. Which I did, afterwards, just as she provided me the reason to do so.
That is Kat. My most dysfunctional partnership in class ever. But I do love her company.
That is Kat. My most dysfunctional partnership in class ever. But I do love her company.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Return to the Ascott
It has been quite a while. Probably close to a month but I finally made a return… to Jes’ Ascott!! Man, I was so happy. It felt like a homecoming. And this time I checked-out the pool area and it is da’ bomb! It’s on the 22nd floor and located on an open-air plateau. Breathtaking is one way to describe it. You have the serenity, the perched-up breeze and an awesome 180 degree view of the city. Then you have the Jacuzzi and it’s placed right at the edge of the building. So you’d be like chillin’ there and overlooking Jalan Sultan Ismail, having a chilled drink and bubbles would be rising up from underneath your arse. You could almost imagine yourself being Richard Branson entertaining Mariah Carey. It was then and there that I decided that the next time I’ll be there, I’d bring my shorts, and bask under the sun, preferably with Jes.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Hot Chicks on a Monday
How often can you say that you had an awesome Monday? Almost never. Excluding when the Mondays are public holidays. Well, I had one today. An awesome Monday. The sole reason being, for the whole day, from morning ‘til night, I have been blessed with constant viewing of hot women. Particularly hot women wearing knee-length skirts. God, how I love those.
In the morning, my hot Punjabi BITS classmate decided for the first time ever to come to class today wearing a skirt. And damn, I tell you she got some beautiful legs. Then, in the afternoon when I went to Damansara Uptown to attend my interview at Deloitte, hot women were literally everywhere. No big surprise, right? But the best bit of all when my interviewer for the day was one hot chick. She may be the Senior Manager of Human Resource but damn, man, she’s sooo HOT! She wore this black suit with the short skirt and all and she has this long black hair, a fair complexion which made her red luscious lips looked so tantalizing it almost tasted like raspberry. I actually stuttered at the beginning because I couldn’t concentrate because of this overwhelming aura she was emitting I tell you, she is one lady boss that I would definitely wouldn’t mind working for.
Then I went to have a late lunch at Chili’s 1 Utama while catching up with a bit of my studies for the ACCA Progress Test later that evening when a group of hot ladies walked in while I was stuffing myself. Then, a few moments later, one of them had to take a call and as she strode past my table to go outside, her thighs and the way she walked vividly reminded me of Beyonce. She could be the sizzling steak for all I care.
Then when I was about to leave PAAC later that night after completing my progress test, my eye caught another student in the hallway and damn, y’all, she too hot. She was reading something on the notice board and I thought, damn, she’s Sazzy, Fasha and Natasha Hudson all rolled into one. It almost made me fell sorry to go back home. I actually had second thoughts you know but my legs were already killing me.
Then just a while ago, I was at Lotus, chilling out with the guys and guess what? There were still a few hot chicks loitering around. A nice ending to a what was supposed to be a soul wrenching opening to the week.
In the morning, my hot Punjabi BITS classmate decided for the first time ever to come to class today wearing a skirt. And damn, I tell you she got some beautiful legs. Then, in the afternoon when I went to Damansara Uptown to attend my interview at Deloitte, hot women were literally everywhere. No big surprise, right? But the best bit of all when my interviewer for the day was one hot chick. She may be the Senior Manager of Human Resource but damn, man, she’s sooo HOT! She wore this black suit with the short skirt and all and she has this long black hair, a fair complexion which made her red luscious lips looked so tantalizing it almost tasted like raspberry. I actually stuttered at the beginning because I couldn’t concentrate because of this overwhelming aura she was emitting I tell you, she is one lady boss that I would definitely wouldn’t mind working for.
Then I went to have a late lunch at Chili’s 1 Utama while catching up with a bit of my studies for the ACCA Progress Test later that evening when a group of hot ladies walked in while I was stuffing myself. Then, a few moments later, one of them had to take a call and as she strode past my table to go outside, her thighs and the way she walked vividly reminded me of Beyonce. She could be the sizzling steak for all I care.
Then when I was about to leave PAAC later that night after completing my progress test, my eye caught another student in the hallway and damn, y’all, she too hot. She was reading something on the notice board and I thought, damn, she’s Sazzy, Fasha and Natasha Hudson all rolled into one. It almost made me fell sorry to go back home. I actually had second thoughts you know but my legs were already killing me.
Then just a while ago, I was at Lotus, chilling out with the guys and guess what? There were still a few hot chicks loitering around. A nice ending to a what was supposed to be a soul wrenching opening to the week.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Pehaps A Little Too Emotional
I’m in such a mess right now. Creative wise. I have been running dry on ideas for weeks. It’s sort of déjà vu all over again. The last time this sort of thing happened, I went uninspired for two whole months. It was terrible. I thought that writing that questionnaire thingy ought to give me some sort of a push but no. It kept me entertained, yes, but only for two days. Then I’m stuck in the rut once again. It’s not that nothing much has happened. My life was been very enjoyable as of late. I went so Sg. Badai, I saw PGL The Musical, I went to Sepang, I watched the BMW Heritage Cars show with Jes, I went nasi lemak hunting last Saturday at Kampung Baru with Aritha, Sasa and Apau before joining up with the boys at Spicy Hartamas. But when I got home, sitting in front of this computer, compose one paragraph, then I thought “Fuck that’s boring”. So I exited Word without saving and went on switching on the television to watch Keith Floyd on Travel and Living. In the end, I decided to write about my uninspiredness and I’m not sure that word even exists.
So let’s just blurbs a few topics, shall we? I came across this interview with Datuk Nazir Razak in the NST last Sunday which I find a very interesting read. I aspire to be a man of his stature one day. A man of few words and yet, revered among his colleagues for the work he has done and not just because he knows how to talk in front of a camera. Not that he’s bad at it at any way. Tagged as the country’s top banker by NST and according to the interview I already found a thing that we both have in common. We’re both big Chelsea fan.
Speaking of Chelsea, I think it was John O’Shea who said that Chelsea has surpassed Man Utd as the most hated team in England. Along with all the controversy and how the media labeled Mourinho as being a sore loser, who wouldn’t agree? But I find a silver lining in all of this. Amid all this, you will find that the current Chelsea fans are truly the true and loyal Chelsea fans. No wannabes, no posers, no glory-hunters will be found amongst us. We’re the same people who kept supporting the team even when Charlton got a last minute winner against us and we got thrown out of Europe by an unknown Swiss team just a few years back. Not the ones that claim to be avid fans since a certain Russian billionaire took over the club and turned David Beckham down because he simply won’t fit into the system. For that I am proud. Cheers.
I love the idea of the movie 1957. I think it’s just novel. Also the Mahsuri project. Finally our film industry is moving into the right direction. I just had enough of skanky movies with the word ‘cinta’ in the title. There are just too many of them and none of them are remotely good. The money spent on making them is better donated to a charity somewhere in Mongolia. And I truly adore how they are marketing Gubra. It just says, “A Yasmin Ahmad Film – Gubra” and a picture of Sharifah Amani and Ng Cheong Soong in a melancholic embrace. No silly caricatures, no bold statements such “Filem Sensasi 2006!” or “Dibintangi oleh Danny X-Factor and Kaer AF2”. Newsflash people – we Malaysians are smart people and we know quality when we see it. Which is why Proton better stop fuckin’ around and make a car which electric windows would still work after two weeks it has left the showroom.
Have you seen the idiotic protests in front of KLCC every Friday afternoon disputing the price hike in petrol? I mean, what are they planning to achieve anyway by protesting? Do they really think that the government will look at them and say, “Uh duh, looks like the people ain’t happy. We better put things back the way they were,”. Wake up and smell the coffee, people. Do you think the government is raising the oil prices whimsically? It’s called globalization and world economics. If you don’t know what that means then I suggest you go back to the office and start doing your job that your employers hired you to do in the first place and not wasting time and energy doing things that would shame your country in the eyes of the foreign visitors who come to see our beautiful country. That is called productivity. At least you’ll be doing something good despite your ignorance. It’s amazing how I know Malaysians are bright and brilliant people but some can be really stupid at times.
Unemployment rate is 20% in France and young people are protesting about it in Paris. Now, that’s a reason to be unhappy about. Not because Datuk K is declining to comment any further. I thought the unemployment situation here is bad enough. I cannot imagine what is going on in France. I’ve been in the unemployment market for quite some time now and I think it’s fortunate for me to still have my dreams and ambitions well etched within me. I have seen and met people who because of the lack of job opportunities out there, the situation has eaten into their dreams and hopes. They simply just want to survive in this fast-paced world. Gone the ambitions of being successful and actually making a difference in the world. And these are the bright ones, I tell you. The statistics say unemployed graduates are about 60 000. These people I’ve met are probably are in the top 10 000 and it saddens me. Where are those kids who wished to be a scientist or an astronaut one day? Somehow they faded out along the way. It’s tragic. You what to talk about problems? About issues? Then here it is. Not how much the new Civic is going to cost in the next coming months.
On a lighter note, let’s talk about those little things that people hang onto their rear windows by the means of suction cup like the ones that resembles a road sign that says ‘Don’t follow me. I’m lost too’. That’s quite funny. Or is that a sticker? Anyway, there are other examples which are quite amusing like the one I saw earlier today. It says ‘Beware! Expensive to repair’. But there are a few lame ones like ‘If you think the car is cute, wait till you see the driver’. Not really funny, nor cute for that matter. But one that annoys me most is the one that says ‘VIP – Very Important Princess’. Now, let me ask you something, you’re not really that important if you have to tell people that you are, aren’t you? More so if you’re a so-called princess. Ladies, please avoid this. If you do have this and some guy compliments how cute it is, he’s lying. It’s nowhere near as cute and he’s just saying that because he wants to impress you and get into your pants. Men are so predictable. If it’s not about sex, it’s about food. Nothing else.
Now, imagine this, it’s the morning rush hour. Stop and go traffic. You come to an intersection. Everybody’s being selfish. Lingering in the yellow box even though the green light had already turned red about 2 minutes ago. Then you have the proverbial motorcyclists slithering around between cars and then, one of them came beside your car, lost his balance and hit your car. You heard the sound of impact, feeling almost certain that at least a mark has been left. But even before you can honk your horn, the damn motorcyclist had gone faster than you can even blink. No apologies, let alone to help and access the damage together and not even an apologetic look. Sped off like nothing had happened and pretending to be as innocent as a fuckin’ baby. You, meanwhile, still stuck in the slow moving traffic, don’t have the luxury to actually stop and step out of the car to see for yourself whether any serious mark had been made. Half an hour later, arriving at your destination, praying that your worries for the last 30 minutes was for nothing, got out of your car, walk around to the spot and found not one but two 30 cm long scratch etched into the paintwork. Then you find yourself cursing and swearing all alone at the car park and kicking little rocks all by yourself. It’s bloody annoying, isn’t it? That’s exactly what happened to Valerie today. And my hatred for motorcyclists is further entrenched. And this is not a one off incident. How many motorcyclists do you think that if the same thing happens again would actually stop, apologize, and compensate for his mistake? I would dare to bet RM1000 that the answer to that is none. Let me tell you something, if they’re riding a motorcycle to work everyday then that would mean they couldn’t afford a car in the first place, wouldn’t it? So should they ruin the paintwork on someone else’ car, then, chances are, they’re probably couldn’t afford to pay for that too now would they? Do you think I’m being judgmental here? You fuckin’ right I am! They make people like me suffer damages as a consequence of their idiotic mistakes! How incredibly innocuous is that!? Now listen here you fuckin’ motorcyclists, I know for a fact that you’re dirt poor, so be a fuckin’ decent user of the road and act like it! Because I know you’re probably couldn’t even afford to pay a new bulb for my taillight. Hell, even yours’ not working. Go figure. And my car is a 10 year plus Toyota. I couldn’t imagine if it happens to someone’s brand new E90. He’d be beyond pissed.
Up to that point, I was listening to Running Away by Hoobstank and I was happy because although it has a sad theme to it, I think it’s a great song. Then that lancau lahanat anak setan bangang punye mat rempit, trying to be clever despite his IQ is the equivalent that of a newt, squeezed his way through and incidentally left a scar on Valerie. I hope you meet with an accident one day that involves a 10 wheeler trailer and both your legs will get squashed beyond repair under the crushing weight of the monstrous vehicle. If I were there, I would definitely laugh until I wet my pants. Dear God, please make the person who scratched my car suffer in life in every possible way. If he’s married, please make his wife cheat on him with his best friend, who’s also happen to be fucking his daughter. Incest? Haha, to me it just rhymes with Justice.
Ah, so much negative energy. I’m sorry to end this on a bitter note. I’ll try to make the next entre a happy one. It’s just the day got off to a very bad start. It literally affected my whole mood for the day.
It’s Champions League night. To all football fans, enjoy your football and I’m putting my money that Benfica will advance to the Final. You read it here first. Cheers.
So let’s just blurbs a few topics, shall we? I came across this interview with Datuk Nazir Razak in the NST last Sunday which I find a very interesting read. I aspire to be a man of his stature one day. A man of few words and yet, revered among his colleagues for the work he has done and not just because he knows how to talk in front of a camera. Not that he’s bad at it at any way. Tagged as the country’s top banker by NST and according to the interview I already found a thing that we both have in common. We’re both big Chelsea fan.
Speaking of Chelsea, I think it was John O’Shea who said that Chelsea has surpassed Man Utd as the most hated team in England. Along with all the controversy and how the media labeled Mourinho as being a sore loser, who wouldn’t agree? But I find a silver lining in all of this. Amid all this, you will find that the current Chelsea fans are truly the true and loyal Chelsea fans. No wannabes, no posers, no glory-hunters will be found amongst us. We’re the same people who kept supporting the team even when Charlton got a last minute winner against us and we got thrown out of Europe by an unknown Swiss team just a few years back. Not the ones that claim to be avid fans since a certain Russian billionaire took over the club and turned David Beckham down because he simply won’t fit into the system. For that I am proud. Cheers.
I love the idea of the movie 1957. I think it’s just novel. Also the Mahsuri project. Finally our film industry is moving into the right direction. I just had enough of skanky movies with the word ‘cinta’ in the title. There are just too many of them and none of them are remotely good. The money spent on making them is better donated to a charity somewhere in Mongolia. And I truly adore how they are marketing Gubra. It just says, “A Yasmin Ahmad Film – Gubra” and a picture of Sharifah Amani and Ng Cheong Soong in a melancholic embrace. No silly caricatures, no bold statements such “Filem Sensasi 2006!” or “Dibintangi oleh Danny X-Factor and Kaer AF2”. Newsflash people – we Malaysians are smart people and we know quality when we see it. Which is why Proton better stop fuckin’ around and make a car which electric windows would still work after two weeks it has left the showroom.
Have you seen the idiotic protests in front of KLCC every Friday afternoon disputing the price hike in petrol? I mean, what are they planning to achieve anyway by protesting? Do they really think that the government will look at them and say, “Uh duh, looks like the people ain’t happy. We better put things back the way they were,”. Wake up and smell the coffee, people. Do you think the government is raising the oil prices whimsically? It’s called globalization and world economics. If you don’t know what that means then I suggest you go back to the office and start doing your job that your employers hired you to do in the first place and not wasting time and energy doing things that would shame your country in the eyes of the foreign visitors who come to see our beautiful country. That is called productivity. At least you’ll be doing something good despite your ignorance. It’s amazing how I know Malaysians are bright and brilliant people but some can be really stupid at times.
Unemployment rate is 20% in France and young people are protesting about it in Paris. Now, that’s a reason to be unhappy about. Not because Datuk K is declining to comment any further. I thought the unemployment situation here is bad enough. I cannot imagine what is going on in France. I’ve been in the unemployment market for quite some time now and I think it’s fortunate for me to still have my dreams and ambitions well etched within me. I have seen and met people who because of the lack of job opportunities out there, the situation has eaten into their dreams and hopes. They simply just want to survive in this fast-paced world. Gone the ambitions of being successful and actually making a difference in the world. And these are the bright ones, I tell you. The statistics say unemployed graduates are about 60 000. These people I’ve met are probably are in the top 10 000 and it saddens me. Where are those kids who wished to be a scientist or an astronaut one day? Somehow they faded out along the way. It’s tragic. You what to talk about problems? About issues? Then here it is. Not how much the new Civic is going to cost in the next coming months.
On a lighter note, let’s talk about those little things that people hang onto their rear windows by the means of suction cup like the ones that resembles a road sign that says ‘Don’t follow me. I’m lost too’. That’s quite funny. Or is that a sticker? Anyway, there are other examples which are quite amusing like the one I saw earlier today. It says ‘Beware! Expensive to repair’. But there are a few lame ones like ‘If you think the car is cute, wait till you see the driver’. Not really funny, nor cute for that matter. But one that annoys me most is the one that says ‘VIP – Very Important Princess’. Now, let me ask you something, you’re not really that important if you have to tell people that you are, aren’t you? More so if you’re a so-called princess. Ladies, please avoid this. If you do have this and some guy compliments how cute it is, he’s lying. It’s nowhere near as cute and he’s just saying that because he wants to impress you and get into your pants. Men are so predictable. If it’s not about sex, it’s about food. Nothing else.
Now, imagine this, it’s the morning rush hour. Stop and go traffic. You come to an intersection. Everybody’s being selfish. Lingering in the yellow box even though the green light had already turned red about 2 minutes ago. Then you have the proverbial motorcyclists slithering around between cars and then, one of them came beside your car, lost his balance and hit your car. You heard the sound of impact, feeling almost certain that at least a mark has been left. But even before you can honk your horn, the damn motorcyclist had gone faster than you can even blink. No apologies, let alone to help and access the damage together and not even an apologetic look. Sped off like nothing had happened and pretending to be as innocent as a fuckin’ baby. You, meanwhile, still stuck in the slow moving traffic, don’t have the luxury to actually stop and step out of the car to see for yourself whether any serious mark had been made. Half an hour later, arriving at your destination, praying that your worries for the last 30 minutes was for nothing, got out of your car, walk around to the spot and found not one but two 30 cm long scratch etched into the paintwork. Then you find yourself cursing and swearing all alone at the car park and kicking little rocks all by yourself. It’s bloody annoying, isn’t it? That’s exactly what happened to Valerie today. And my hatred for motorcyclists is further entrenched. And this is not a one off incident. How many motorcyclists do you think that if the same thing happens again would actually stop, apologize, and compensate for his mistake? I would dare to bet RM1000 that the answer to that is none. Let me tell you something, if they’re riding a motorcycle to work everyday then that would mean they couldn’t afford a car in the first place, wouldn’t it? So should they ruin the paintwork on someone else’ car, then, chances are, they’re probably couldn’t afford to pay for that too now would they? Do you think I’m being judgmental here? You fuckin’ right I am! They make people like me suffer damages as a consequence of their idiotic mistakes! How incredibly innocuous is that!? Now listen here you fuckin’ motorcyclists, I know for a fact that you’re dirt poor, so be a fuckin’ decent user of the road and act like it! Because I know you’re probably couldn’t even afford to pay a new bulb for my taillight. Hell, even yours’ not working. Go figure. And my car is a 10 year plus Toyota. I couldn’t imagine if it happens to someone’s brand new E90. He’d be beyond pissed.
Up to that point, I was listening to Running Away by Hoobstank and I was happy because although it has a sad theme to it, I think it’s a great song. Then that lancau lahanat anak setan bangang punye mat rempit, trying to be clever despite his IQ is the equivalent that of a newt, squeezed his way through and incidentally left a scar on Valerie. I hope you meet with an accident one day that involves a 10 wheeler trailer and both your legs will get squashed beyond repair under the crushing weight of the monstrous vehicle. If I were there, I would definitely laugh until I wet my pants. Dear God, please make the person who scratched my car suffer in life in every possible way. If he’s married, please make his wife cheat on him with his best friend, who’s also happen to be fucking his daughter. Incest? Haha, to me it just rhymes with Justice.
Ah, so much negative energy. I’m sorry to end this on a bitter note. I’ll try to make the next entre a happy one. It’s just the day got off to a very bad start. It literally affected my whole mood for the day.
It’s Champions League night. To all football fans, enjoy your football and I’m putting my money that Benfica will advance to the Final. You read it here first. Cheers.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Tagged, Flagged and Everything That Goes With It
2 hot women by the name of Aritha and Sasa tagged me - booyah!
4 Jobs
*I’m fuckin’ unemployed, mate! But I am currently getting paid to learn English. Probably
one of the easiest money deriving activities I could ever have.
*Hopefully, in the not too distant future, AA2 at Deloitte KassimChan, yeah!
*Kaki Blogger
*Kaki Skodeng
4 Movies I Love
*The Godfather
*Silence of the Lambs
*Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
*The Usual Suspects
4 Places I Lived
*Kelana Jaya
*Bintulu
*Kuantan
*Gombak
4 TV Shows I Love to Watch
*Top Gear
*CSI
*House
*Little Britain
4 Places I’ve Been on Vacation
*Hawaii; Universal Studios, Hollywood; Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf, San
Francisco
*Kuta Beach, Bali
*Manukan Island and Mamutik Island of the Tunku Abdul Rahman National Park, Kota
Kinabalu
*Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf outlet on top of Genting
4 Blogs I Visit Daily
*Sasa
*Zal
*Ity
*Aritha
4 Favorite Foods
*Chili’s Mushroom Jack Fajitas
*Nasi Beriani Gam Kambing Putrajaya
*Ikan bakar belakang Istana Negara
*Sotong goreng tepung at Pak Su Seafood Restaurant, Beserah
4 Places I’d Rather Be
*Jes’ room at The Ascott
*Tomok’s home where I could beat Nebu in Winning Eleven
*Stamford Bridge tomorrow night (March 22nd)
*Anywhere where I can get a good view of Lin’s chest
4 Albums I Can’t Live Without
*Maroon 5 1.22.03 Acoustic
*Incubus Morning View
*Ning Erti Pertemuan
*Kompilasi Lagu-lagu Melayu Tangkap Leleh oleh Badoque Productions
4 Vehicles I’ve Owned
I’ve never owned any of these but they’ve been put under my care, so to speak
*1990 5th Generation Toyota Celica aka Valerie
*1985 BMW 520i aka The Bone Shaker
*A 16-speed mountain bike which is now collecting rust and cat hair
*2005 Aston Martin DB9 (hopefully in my lifetime)
Additional 4 Things That I Want in Life Before 30
*A lavish, fully furnished apartment situated in the heart of KL with a breath-taking view of the
city where the doorman knows me by name and I have two hot lesbian couple as my next door
neighbour
*The ability to one day, walk into an Auto Bavaria showroom and tell the sales person, "I want
to buy a BMW," and be dead serious about it
*Nora Danish as my non-committal girlfriend
*A Swiss bank account
4 Taggees
*Saigot!Haha!
*Sape lagi ha?Aduh cani la jadinye bile dah jadi las skali. Semua pun dah buat
*Takde Idea
*Afdlin Shauki (haha cam dapat je)
4 Jobs
*I’m fuckin’ unemployed, mate! But I am currently getting paid to learn English. Probably
one of the easiest money deriving activities I could ever have.
*Hopefully, in the not too distant future, AA2 at Deloitte KassimChan, yeah!
*Kaki Blogger
*Kaki Skodeng
4 Movies I Love
*The Godfather
*Silence of the Lambs
*Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
*The Usual Suspects
4 Places I Lived
*Kelana Jaya
*Bintulu
*Kuantan
*Gombak
4 TV Shows I Love to Watch
*Top Gear
*CSI
*House
*Little Britain
4 Places I’ve Been on Vacation
*Hawaii; Universal Studios, Hollywood; Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf, San
Francisco
*Kuta Beach, Bali
*Manukan Island and Mamutik Island of the Tunku Abdul Rahman National Park, Kota
Kinabalu
*Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf outlet on top of Genting
4 Blogs I Visit Daily
*Sasa
*Zal
*Ity
*Aritha
4 Favorite Foods
*Chili’s Mushroom Jack Fajitas
*Nasi Beriani Gam Kambing Putrajaya
*Ikan bakar belakang Istana Negara
*Sotong goreng tepung at Pak Su Seafood Restaurant, Beserah
4 Places I’d Rather Be
*Jes’ room at The Ascott
*Tomok’s home where I could beat Nebu in Winning Eleven
*Stamford Bridge tomorrow night (March 22nd)
*Anywhere where I can get a good view of Lin’s chest
4 Albums I Can’t Live Without
*Maroon 5 1.22.03 Acoustic
*Incubus Morning View
*Ning Erti Pertemuan
*Kompilasi Lagu-lagu Melayu Tangkap Leleh oleh Badoque Productions
4 Vehicles I’ve Owned
I’ve never owned any of these but they’ve been put under my care, so to speak
*1990 5th Generation Toyota Celica aka Valerie
*1985 BMW 520i aka The Bone Shaker
*A 16-speed mountain bike which is now collecting rust and cat hair
*2005 Aston Martin DB9 (hopefully in my lifetime)
Additional 4 Things That I Want in Life Before 30
*A lavish, fully furnished apartment situated in the heart of KL with a breath-taking view of the
city where the doorman knows me by name and I have two hot lesbian couple as my next door
neighbour
*The ability to one day, walk into an Auto Bavaria showroom and tell the sales person, "I want
to buy a BMW," and be dead serious about it
*Nora Danish as my non-committal girlfriend
*A Swiss bank account
4 Taggees
*Saigot!Haha!
*Sape lagi ha?Aduh cani la jadinye bile dah jadi las skali. Semua pun dah buat
*Takde Idea
*Afdlin Shauki (haha cam dapat je)
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Thursday Telly
Wehave our Malaysian version of Punk’d. It’s on NTV7 and hosted by Adlin Ramli aka Sultan Mahmud Melaka. I just saw I today. Quite interesting. The victim was Siti Sarah (correct ah spell her name like this?) and she was made to go through a practice session with a shortened microphone stand and the song rehearsed was intentionally played out of tune but she was getting the blame. But all the time she just smiled and never raised her voice. Just to show what a nice person she really is. Then it was Thursday Nite Live. A talk show with the style of Leno and Letterman but this time they actually come up with somebody proper to act as the host. It’s Harith Iskandar. I think it’s still brand new because the guests today were Afdlin and Ning. Two very close friends of his. It’s quite good although it’s obvious it needs a wide range of improvements. Catch them if you can. But next week la. This is free TV. No repeat repeat one. No Super Sunday slot at the end of the week. Have to wait la. Besides, it’s Thursday. What else is there on TV? If you want to see koalas mating on Animal Planet then go ahead la, I won’t stop you.
Haiyah, so lazy to continue. Eh where’s my chocolate bar ah?
Haiyah, so lazy to continue. Eh where’s my chocolate bar ah?
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