Seriously. I was ready. Maybe not 100% confident but I was ready. Was it my fault that she took the day off? Hey, it was beyond my control. Now, we’ll never know what would’ve happened, do we? (Whew!) Not that I’m relieved or anything. I’m…I’m angry okay? I’m disappointed, frustrated, crushed because I did prepare myself, I really did. Now, we’ll have to wait another day. If that day should ever come. My SASOB genes have prevailed, yet again.
But, no worries. In a few moments, I’ll be driving off, leaving behind the city to travel up north. Way up north to the island called Langkawi. Now this is a relief. I really do need a time off. But time off with the boys doesn’t actually involve relaxing down by the pool or taking walks along the beach. Wait, we did take a walk along the beach last time. But that was all in the interest of looking out for hot chicks running around in their swimsuits. Not that I really need to tell you but no luck then either. But it’ll be different this time. I don’t know how but it will be.
So, dear fellow readers. Enjoy your holidays. Get out. Talk to some friends. Make it a sin for you to stay at home. It will make your time more worthwhile. You know I’m right.
That’s it folks. I’m off with my beemer who I have yet to name. I’m thinking of Bethany but that doesn’t sound slutty enough. Well, au revoir.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Valentine's Is Here Again
I have returned to the scene. Sounds kind of morbid, doesn’t it? But actually, I haven’t thought about it when I first decided to come here. It just hit me a while ago. My intentions, originally, was to look for some inspiration, as a cure for writer’s block, which I think I’m currently suffering from. Think about it. One post for the whole of January? I mean, what a pathetic rate is that? Even Ronaldo has a better scoring rate in the same period of time. Okay, maybe not but you get my point. So, here I am back at Starbucks KLCC, and blogging. Believe me, if this one ever gets posted, consider this experimental exercise a success.
It’s slightly past 6 in the evening, people are leaving from work and it’s the 13th of February. That’s right – it’s Valentine’s eve. You know what? I don’t why I give such a damn about February 14th. Actually, I do have a good guess but it’s kind of embarrassing to admit it here but anyway, I mean, it’s not that I have any good experience when it comes to Valentine’s – ever. Well, maybe once when I managed to woo Eiwa to Teluk Batik for dinner by the sea under the stars and bright moonlight. But even that was on the 15th. I suppose technically, that doesn’t count. But somehow, every time I take a look at my scantily clad ladies of a calendar (courtesy of FHM), the date February 14th always just pops out. Teasingly, demands constant attention. So, here we are, year 2007, reminiscing, again, about Valentine’s Day.
Before anything else, let me just say that I have no plans whatsoever for tomorrow. I’d like to but no. So, yes, tomorrow looks very promising indeed. Thumbs up. And no, we will not be talking about love in this particular post. You have Jennifer Weiner and Hugh Grant for that (this is in no way undermining the talents of both Jennifer and Hugh. I really do think they are both exceptional at what they do. And they’re funny. You don’t dismiss funny people). But here, we are a bit more rational. So, we’re going to talk about the next best thing, and probably the only thing in this blog since its conception. That is, women.
I, for one, am not an expert on this subject, but then again, what man is? As in the words of Harith Iskander from Sepet, “I’ll never understand women. Even if I live to be a hundred.” Well said, Mr Harith. So, if you’re expecting meaningful advice, we’re not Dr Phil either. We can give you tips though. Theoretical tips. Although, we are in no uncertain terms can guarantee you the success in using them.
What we can, and will do, is just talk, and ponder, and complain, and in the end, come to no absolute conclusion. Which in that lies, may I point out, what makes it all worthwhile and quite simply enjoyable. Which brings us, finally and exhaustively, to our topic of the day – picking up women from places that usually people don’t pick up women from.
Let me point out that I am not about to reveal the secrets behind picking up women from places that people don’t usually pick up women from. Those are the kinds of articles you can find in men’s magazines. Here is just a corny blog. And corny blogs just throws more questions rather than answers. And the question is, as you may have guessed, is how. How do you really pick up women from places that people don’t usually pick up women from? Okay, let me first give an example of the kind of places that I mean. For starters, how about the cold storage section of a supermarket? I mean, you’re there, at Carrefour, for example, and you’re picking out Kraft cheese slices when you notice this amazing looking woman beside you. You realize that you only have a split-second window of an opportunity and you need to say something quick that would sound charming and give a good impression or she would just slip away. In that sudden intense moment, what do you say? “Got milk?” That would sound stupid, if not offensive.
How about when you’re queuing for a movie ticket? And you have this vivacious young woman standing in front of you. No, make that standing behind you. And you just notice her because she had this wonderful perfume on. What do you say? “Excuse me. Sorry to bother you but I couldn’t make up my mind on what to watch. May I ask you what you’ll be watching?” Wait a minute. That’s actually not half bad. But, point being, some people just have an instinctive way of starting conversations with hot beautiful strangers. These are usually the ones who say, “Just go talk to her,” when they notice you’re eyeing someone. Of course, those kinds of situations rarely end favourably for people like me, the ones who couldn’t possibly start a conversation on a whim with Jessica Alba look-alikes. Or as a friend of mine has eloquently have created the term SASOB, which concerns an entirely whole different topic.
Question unanswered, let’s raise another one. Why am I suddenly discussing this? Well, that’s probably the most interesting part so far. Real life interconnection, of course.
Some of you would probably remember the time I talked about this lovely looking girl who was working at the ticket counter at GSC 1 Utama. Up to this day I still couldn’t decide what are the best words to say to her that would make her even considering letting me have her number or taking her out for a drink. And not to mention the people who were lining up behind me. Talk about pressure and time constraint. The best one I could think so far is “Tickets for [movie] please for us and your phone number for me,” Even that doesn’t sound convincing enough. Of course, this was many months back. I haven’t seen her for a ling time now. But recently, a similar case had popped up. This time it’s a girl working at Video Ezy at, well, here at Suria. She’s one of those girls who would come up to those people who were rummaging through the cases of VCDs/DVDs, forehead wrinkled looking for that elusive particular title, and offer her assistance. That was how I first met her. I was looking for Chasing Amy and when turn to look at the person for who voiced “May I help you, sir,” for a brief moment, words were stuck in my throat. Standing before me was a girl that I could only describe as hot and adorable at the same time. Slightly brown hair, big eyes, fair skin, epic tits (Jude Law, Closer).
“Chasing Amy,” I finally said to her, referring to the movie title that she would try to help me find.
“Kissing Amy?” her response made me stood in awe as the word ‘kiss’ began to trigger impure thoughts running through my mind.
“No, no. Chasing Amy,” as I repeated slowly, slightly stammering.
“Oh Chasing Amy,” as she began to scatter to the counter to check the title using the store’s computerized system. At that point I was almost certain she would return with a negative answer since it is a rare title but, bloody fuck, what a face and body. When she did return to tell me the inevitable answer, I thanked her for her efforts and purposely linger around the store just to have a longer look at her. At one point, I even pretended to be interested in the Special Interest section (fishing, golf, hip-hop workout) since that was the best position that I can look at her without being too obvious. After hanging around for far too long for a customer who in the end didn’t buy anything, I left, thinking that sooner or later I should do something about this, or the opportunity would slip away. And today, without shame, I once again stalked her. This time from across the store. I stood against the railing in front of Wizshop as she intermittently came and disappear into view as she wandered around the store. And after more conducive consideration while writing this post, I have decided to actually do something tomorrow. Wow, did that come as too bold? Well, at least I’ll try. Damn, just thinking about it just makes my heart pound. I am finally having a go against my SASOB genes. Be a loser I shall be no more. Of course, typing is so much easier than doing it. But having an objective is at least something. All I have to do is to figure out something nice to say and not stammer while saying it. Who am I kidding? Of course I’ll stammer tomorrow. But fret not, confidence. Confidence is all I need. Besides, it’ll be Valentine’s tomorrow. If there’s any day that a woman wishes to be picked up by a stranger from anywhere it’s tomorrow. So, tomorrow promises to be a very interesting day now doesn’t it? Huh,so much for no plans on Valentine’s Day.
Now, updates.
My birthday party was a bang. Charlene and Michelle couldn’t make it but we had fun nevertheless. I did have a Charlene and Michelle substitute although not Hugh Hefner-esque but definitely Page 3 material. Seriously, it was more that I could hope for. It made me very happy. And Jes was absolutely fantastic in providing us her place. I tell you, her Westin nest is simply delightful. And to think that she’ll be staying there until July and waking up every morning in her Heavenly Bed, I mean, I could only envy her. As for food, nothing lavish as I had originally planned. Lavish, you see, doesn’t come in practical form. There’s lavish, practical and extremely expensive and so not worth it but lavish and practical? No. A mythical concept. As for the cake? Guess what? Secret Recipe. Reason for that? Well, there’s just no other cakes like the ones that Secret Recipe makes. A variety of choices is one thing and have you ever realized how huge their cakes are? I mean, we are so used to them that we forgot one of the main reason we like them so much in the first place. It’s their sheer size. It dwarves the cakes from other bakeries. Even from the proper bakeries like Baker’s Cottage and Angel Cake House. So, who am I to argue? Viva capitalists. And for the record, there were no leftovers of the Black Forest cake. Proof of success. Well, not until the next morning, that is. So, thank you, again, Jes, and all the rest who attended. And thank you for the gifts.
It’s slightly past 6 in the evening, people are leaving from work and it’s the 13th of February. That’s right – it’s Valentine’s eve. You know what? I don’t why I give such a damn about February 14th. Actually, I do have a good guess but it’s kind of embarrassing to admit it here but anyway, I mean, it’s not that I have any good experience when it comes to Valentine’s – ever. Well, maybe once when I managed to woo Eiwa to Teluk Batik for dinner by the sea under the stars and bright moonlight. But even that was on the 15th. I suppose technically, that doesn’t count. But somehow, every time I take a look at my scantily clad ladies of a calendar (courtesy of FHM), the date February 14th always just pops out. Teasingly, demands constant attention. So, here we are, year 2007, reminiscing, again, about Valentine’s Day.
Before anything else, let me just say that I have no plans whatsoever for tomorrow. I’d like to but no. So, yes, tomorrow looks very promising indeed. Thumbs up. And no, we will not be talking about love in this particular post. You have Jennifer Weiner and Hugh Grant for that (this is in no way undermining the talents of both Jennifer and Hugh. I really do think they are both exceptional at what they do. And they’re funny. You don’t dismiss funny people). But here, we are a bit more rational. So, we’re going to talk about the next best thing, and probably the only thing in this blog since its conception. That is, women.
I, for one, am not an expert on this subject, but then again, what man is? As in the words of Harith Iskander from Sepet, “I’ll never understand women. Even if I live to be a hundred.” Well said, Mr Harith. So, if you’re expecting meaningful advice, we’re not Dr Phil either. We can give you tips though. Theoretical tips. Although, we are in no uncertain terms can guarantee you the success in using them.
What we can, and will do, is just talk, and ponder, and complain, and in the end, come to no absolute conclusion. Which in that lies, may I point out, what makes it all worthwhile and quite simply enjoyable. Which brings us, finally and exhaustively, to our topic of the day – picking up women from places that usually people don’t pick up women from.
Let me point out that I am not about to reveal the secrets behind picking up women from places that people don’t usually pick up women from. Those are the kinds of articles you can find in men’s magazines. Here is just a corny blog. And corny blogs just throws more questions rather than answers. And the question is, as you may have guessed, is how. How do you really pick up women from places that people don’t usually pick up women from? Okay, let me first give an example of the kind of places that I mean. For starters, how about the cold storage section of a supermarket? I mean, you’re there, at Carrefour, for example, and you’re picking out Kraft cheese slices when you notice this amazing looking woman beside you. You realize that you only have a split-second window of an opportunity and you need to say something quick that would sound charming and give a good impression or she would just slip away. In that sudden intense moment, what do you say? “Got milk?” That would sound stupid, if not offensive.
How about when you’re queuing for a movie ticket? And you have this vivacious young woman standing in front of you. No, make that standing behind you. And you just notice her because she had this wonderful perfume on. What do you say? “Excuse me. Sorry to bother you but I couldn’t make up my mind on what to watch. May I ask you what you’ll be watching?” Wait a minute. That’s actually not half bad. But, point being, some people just have an instinctive way of starting conversations with hot beautiful strangers. These are usually the ones who say, “Just go talk to her,” when they notice you’re eyeing someone. Of course, those kinds of situations rarely end favourably for people like me, the ones who couldn’t possibly start a conversation on a whim with Jessica Alba look-alikes. Or as a friend of mine has eloquently have created the term SASOB, which concerns an entirely whole different topic.
Question unanswered, let’s raise another one. Why am I suddenly discussing this? Well, that’s probably the most interesting part so far. Real life interconnection, of course.
Some of you would probably remember the time I talked about this lovely looking girl who was working at the ticket counter at GSC 1 Utama. Up to this day I still couldn’t decide what are the best words to say to her that would make her even considering letting me have her number or taking her out for a drink. And not to mention the people who were lining up behind me. Talk about pressure and time constraint. The best one I could think so far is “Tickets for [movie] please for us and your phone number for me,” Even that doesn’t sound convincing enough. Of course, this was many months back. I haven’t seen her for a ling time now. But recently, a similar case had popped up. This time it’s a girl working at Video Ezy at, well, here at Suria. She’s one of those girls who would come up to those people who were rummaging through the cases of VCDs/DVDs, forehead wrinkled looking for that elusive particular title, and offer her assistance. That was how I first met her. I was looking for Chasing Amy and when turn to look at the person for who voiced “May I help you, sir,” for a brief moment, words were stuck in my throat. Standing before me was a girl that I could only describe as hot and adorable at the same time. Slightly brown hair, big eyes, fair skin, epic tits (Jude Law, Closer).
“Chasing Amy,” I finally said to her, referring to the movie title that she would try to help me find.
“Kissing Amy?” her response made me stood in awe as the word ‘kiss’ began to trigger impure thoughts running through my mind.
“No, no. Chasing Amy,” as I repeated slowly, slightly stammering.
“Oh Chasing Amy,” as she began to scatter to the counter to check the title using the store’s computerized system. At that point I was almost certain she would return with a negative answer since it is a rare title but, bloody fuck, what a face and body. When she did return to tell me the inevitable answer, I thanked her for her efforts and purposely linger around the store just to have a longer look at her. At one point, I even pretended to be interested in the Special Interest section (fishing, golf, hip-hop workout) since that was the best position that I can look at her without being too obvious. After hanging around for far too long for a customer who in the end didn’t buy anything, I left, thinking that sooner or later I should do something about this, or the opportunity would slip away. And today, without shame, I once again stalked her. This time from across the store. I stood against the railing in front of Wizshop as she intermittently came and disappear into view as she wandered around the store. And after more conducive consideration while writing this post, I have decided to actually do something tomorrow. Wow, did that come as too bold? Well, at least I’ll try. Damn, just thinking about it just makes my heart pound. I am finally having a go against my SASOB genes. Be a loser I shall be no more. Of course, typing is so much easier than doing it. But having an objective is at least something. All I have to do is to figure out something nice to say and not stammer while saying it. Who am I kidding? Of course I’ll stammer tomorrow. But fret not, confidence. Confidence is all I need. Besides, it’ll be Valentine’s tomorrow. If there’s any day that a woman wishes to be picked up by a stranger from anywhere it’s tomorrow. So, tomorrow promises to be a very interesting day now doesn’t it? Huh,so much for no plans on Valentine’s Day.
Now, updates.
My birthday party was a bang. Charlene and Michelle couldn’t make it but we had fun nevertheless. I did have a Charlene and Michelle substitute although not Hugh Hefner-esque but definitely Page 3 material. Seriously, it was more that I could hope for. It made me very happy. And Jes was absolutely fantastic in providing us her place. I tell you, her Westin nest is simply delightful. And to think that she’ll be staying there until July and waking up every morning in her Heavenly Bed, I mean, I could only envy her. As for food, nothing lavish as I had originally planned. Lavish, you see, doesn’t come in practical form. There’s lavish, practical and extremely expensive and so not worth it but lavish and practical? No. A mythical concept. As for the cake? Guess what? Secret Recipe. Reason for that? Well, there’s just no other cakes like the ones that Secret Recipe makes. A variety of choices is one thing and have you ever realized how huge their cakes are? I mean, we are so used to them that we forgot one of the main reason we like them so much in the first place. It’s their sheer size. It dwarves the cakes from other bakeries. Even from the proper bakeries like Baker’s Cottage and Angel Cake House. So, who am I to argue? Viva capitalists. And for the record, there were no leftovers of the Black Forest cake. Proof of success. Well, not until the next morning, that is. So, thank you, again, Jes, and all the rest who attended. And thank you for the gifts.
In other news, I have finally sported a new handphone after years of daydreaming. It’s the Motorola KRZR K1 and it’s incredibly sexy. My pride and joy. And as for my ride, I am now driving an E36 – a 1994 BMW 3 Series, dark blue in colour. And without a stereo. A common trait with Valerie. Along with the colour. Speaking about Valerie, don’t worry, she’s still around. So there are now 5 cars parked around my home every night. Well, 4 cars and 1 4x4. An Accord, a Spectra, a Celica, an E36 and a Pajero. People must think we are too rich for our own good.
From the outside, I look pretty successful don’t I? 25 and driving around in a BMW. Oh how looks can be deceiving. Nevertheless, my fellow SASOB are pretty much excited about my beemer and have decided to elect it as the official vehicle to Kuala Kedah this CNY for our Langkawi trip Part II. Oh yes, the return of the wannabe beach boys and all night partying. Hell, I’m still young to have some good time. And, if everything works out well enough for the next few months, the much anticipated trip to Bali. It was pretty hectic the first time at Langkawi. God knows what will happen at Bali. But potentially exciting nevertheless.
So, let’s see, hot girl at video store and the Langkawi trip. Well, looks like I’m done. Happy Chinese New Year and a very sexy Valentine’s Day to all. To V-Day skeptics, don’t worry, Valentine’s is overrated anyway. Good night and cheers.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
2007: A New Hope
Greetings and welcome. Guess what? I’m back!
(Cheers)
Yes, it’s 2007 and I’m welcoming you back to a brand new season of It’s A Guy Thing. Although no improvements or modifications whatsoever has been made to the site, I am looking forward towards a fruitful and promising year ahead.
So, how were your New Year celebrations? For me, I dozed off in front of the TV while watching the nonsensical New Year talk show on NTV7. To make it even more embarrassing, I fell asleep and it wasn’t even before midnight! It was the first time in years that I haven’t stayed up until at least after 12 to usher in the New Year. But mind you, I had a good reason. As you all were aware, AidilAdha fell on the 31st, so New Year’s Eve night, oh I was back at Kelantan by the way, and I had this awesome korban feast. God knows how much sup tulang/ekor I had. I know it was irresponsible and down right unhealthy but I’m not a fan of any diet regime anyway. One good thing about going back to Kelantan is that even with the absence of any Internet connection (didn’t matter if that quake at Taiwan happened or not) and Astro, which does annoy me every single day, the food is just unforgettably fabulous. Not to mention cheap. I mean, the morning I arrived I had rice with gulai itik serati for breakfast. And true ayam kampong. Not like the ones in the city where you can taste the hormones injected. Okay, that meal didn’t actually come cheap but in terms of originality, you can’t get it anywhere else.
Okay, enough about food. Now I’m back at the city and back at work. Yeah, hip-fuckin’ hooray. But good news though, school holidays are over and that means there’s less queue if I want to catch something at the movies. If not, the only decent time to get a ticket was during the 11am shows and how often am I willing to make that kind of effort during the weekends? Probably never. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna catch a flick after work. Which reminds me, it’s that time of the month again to pay Abby a visit.
There are 3 Abbys in my life. One is a female work colleague of mine whom I borrowed a red pen and never returned it. The other is a former school mate, a guy of course, from Sarawak who once sprayed a syringe which was filled with 90 degrees Celcius of sterile water onto the back of my neck during Biology class. I let out a reflex scream and it was pretty embarrassing when suddenly you got everyone’s attention in class, including the teacher at front. The one I’m referring to right now is neither of them but my hot hair stylist at Jantzen. You know, apart from receiving my salary, getting my haircut is only other thing that I look forward to every month.
And there’s something pretty weird going on between Abby and me. You see, every time I get my haircut done, I do nothing but look at her through the mirror at the front. Nothing but pure ogling relaxation. And you know what? I think she began to notice. And I think it kinds of flatters her. Heck, she might even be enjoying it. I say this because previously, we rarely talked about anything except how I want my hair to look like. But lately she began to ask these how-are-you type questions. Like this one time I came after work and it was about 7 pm and before I could sit my ass down she asked me whether I had my dinner yet. For a split second I was taken aback and went ‘Huh?’, but then I answered ‘no’. ‘Lepas ni makan lah?’ she said further rather inquisitively, along with that seductive smile of hers. I told I’d be having dinner at home, with the puzzling look still upon my face. It was probably my imagination but for a brief moment there I had a strange feeling that she was baiting me to ask her out to dinner. You may be laughing but almost the same thing happen the next time I went to see her. It was lunchtime during a weekend and this time my answer to her same previous question was I already had my lunch. An honest reply in which I regretted almost immediately, thinking that how it might have went if I had said ‘no’ instead and replied further with, ‘Would you like to join me?’. Oh how things would’ve gone differently.
As for my last visit, there were no questions about my state of hunger but while I’m usually transfixed by her reflection in the mirror, this time I found a woman’s magazine among the ones piled in front of me and in it found an interview held with Daniel Craig talking about his new role as James Bond. Of course, I just had to read it because in my eyes Daniel Craig is just so cool. For those who’ve seen Layer Cake would agree with me. But midway through my reading, all of a sudden I noticed that Abby was practically standing in front of me. Her thighs were brushing against mine (how else do you think I noticed her?). This is nothing unusual in a haircutting context except that I never remembered her ever doing this. It was as if she was annoyed that I wasn’t paying my usual attention to her and she was making me aware of the fact. Well, it was probably paranoia but it worked anyway. I ogled her from then on.
As for today, I have no idea what to expect. But I am excited by the thought of seeing her again. Such is the dire state of my love life that I’m beginning to have fantasies about my hair stylist. This is so not right.
(Cheers)
Yes, it’s 2007 and I’m welcoming you back to a brand new season of It’s A Guy Thing. Although no improvements or modifications whatsoever has been made to the site, I am looking forward towards a fruitful and promising year ahead.
So, how were your New Year celebrations? For me, I dozed off in front of the TV while watching the nonsensical New Year talk show on NTV7. To make it even more embarrassing, I fell asleep and it wasn’t even before midnight! It was the first time in years that I haven’t stayed up until at least after 12 to usher in the New Year. But mind you, I had a good reason. As you all were aware, AidilAdha fell on the 31st, so New Year’s Eve night, oh I was back at Kelantan by the way, and I had this awesome korban feast. God knows how much sup tulang/ekor I had. I know it was irresponsible and down right unhealthy but I’m not a fan of any diet regime anyway. One good thing about going back to Kelantan is that even with the absence of any Internet connection (didn’t matter if that quake at Taiwan happened or not) and Astro, which does annoy me every single day, the food is just unforgettably fabulous. Not to mention cheap. I mean, the morning I arrived I had rice with gulai itik serati for breakfast. And true ayam kampong. Not like the ones in the city where you can taste the hormones injected. Okay, that meal didn’t actually come cheap but in terms of originality, you can’t get it anywhere else.
Okay, enough about food. Now I’m back at the city and back at work. Yeah, hip-fuckin’ hooray. But good news though, school holidays are over and that means there’s less queue if I want to catch something at the movies. If not, the only decent time to get a ticket was during the 11am shows and how often am I willing to make that kind of effort during the weekends? Probably never. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna catch a flick after work. Which reminds me, it’s that time of the month again to pay Abby a visit.
There are 3 Abbys in my life. One is a female work colleague of mine whom I borrowed a red pen and never returned it. The other is a former school mate, a guy of course, from Sarawak who once sprayed a syringe which was filled with 90 degrees Celcius of sterile water onto the back of my neck during Biology class. I let out a reflex scream and it was pretty embarrassing when suddenly you got everyone’s attention in class, including the teacher at front. The one I’m referring to right now is neither of them but my hot hair stylist at Jantzen. You know, apart from receiving my salary, getting my haircut is only other thing that I look forward to every month.
And there’s something pretty weird going on between Abby and me. You see, every time I get my haircut done, I do nothing but look at her through the mirror at the front. Nothing but pure ogling relaxation. And you know what? I think she began to notice. And I think it kinds of flatters her. Heck, she might even be enjoying it. I say this because previously, we rarely talked about anything except how I want my hair to look like. But lately she began to ask these how-are-you type questions. Like this one time I came after work and it was about 7 pm and before I could sit my ass down she asked me whether I had my dinner yet. For a split second I was taken aback and went ‘Huh?’, but then I answered ‘no’. ‘Lepas ni makan lah?’ she said further rather inquisitively, along with that seductive smile of hers. I told I’d be having dinner at home, with the puzzling look still upon my face. It was probably my imagination but for a brief moment there I had a strange feeling that she was baiting me to ask her out to dinner. You may be laughing but almost the same thing happen the next time I went to see her. It was lunchtime during a weekend and this time my answer to her same previous question was I already had my lunch. An honest reply in which I regretted almost immediately, thinking that how it might have went if I had said ‘no’ instead and replied further with, ‘Would you like to join me?’. Oh how things would’ve gone differently.
As for my last visit, there were no questions about my state of hunger but while I’m usually transfixed by her reflection in the mirror, this time I found a woman’s magazine among the ones piled in front of me and in it found an interview held with Daniel Craig talking about his new role as James Bond. Of course, I just had to read it because in my eyes Daniel Craig is just so cool. For those who’ve seen Layer Cake would agree with me. But midway through my reading, all of a sudden I noticed that Abby was practically standing in front of me. Her thighs were brushing against mine (how else do you think I noticed her?). This is nothing unusual in a haircutting context except that I never remembered her ever doing this. It was as if she was annoyed that I wasn’t paying my usual attention to her and she was making me aware of the fact. Well, it was probably paranoia but it worked anyway. I ogled her from then on.
As for today, I have no idea what to expect. But I am excited by the thought of seeing her again. Such is the dire state of my love life that I’m beginning to have fantasies about my hair stylist. This is so not right.
***
Well, truth be told, nothing happened yesterday. Yes, it’s a brand new day and I sport a trimmed hairdo although I have come none closer to getting laid.
So, today we are going to leave the hair stylist subject alone and move on to other topics such as the big birthday bash. Whose bash, you may ask? Well, mine, of course. And make no mistake, I do intend to make it big. Well, not as big as the parties you see on MTV’s My Super Sweet 16 where once I saw an episode in which a kid was devastated because Kanye West couldn’t come and perform at his birthday party. Damn spoiled rich kids.
Anyway, as far as the venue is concerned, Jes’ place at the Westin is flamboyant enough and I don’t have to pay a single cent for it. Thanks, Jes. Friends with cool places are so hard to come by. So, with that I can focus my resources on other things…such as the two exotic dancers named Charlene and Michelle. We’ve agreed that they’ll pretend to be the nurses who will be attending me, the depressed patient who they are trying to cheer up.
If only that was true.
Fantasies not withstanding, I’d probably just figure out something different for the food, especially the birthday cake. Have you realized how Secret Recipe cakes have become the standard for every small parties nowadays? Sure they taste good, come in helpful large sizes and just about everybody like them. But quite frankly, I’m getting bored of it. My reason being is since their stores are located everywhere in the city nowadays, I can drop by at any one of them to have a slice of their Chocolate Banana on any other day for a quick relief has made it lost some of its exclusivity. I mean, I miss the days when people’s eyes lit up when the cake is rolled into view. I want guests to exclaim excitedly, ‘Ooh, what’s that? It looks so delicious!’ and not another attendee whispering to another, ‘Oh it’s a Rocky Mountain. I had a slice last week. It’s good but I still prefer the Chocolate Mud,’ See what I mean?
So, if not Secret Recipe, what then? Well, I have no idea really. I did list down a few potentials. There’s a nice bakery at Ampang although I couldn’t remember what it’s called. Or I could just opt for something from Top Hat. I hear they make some nice cakes over there. Or I might get something from Westin itself. I’m sure they have a nice little café somewhere near the lobby. Though there’s a 100% chance it’s going to be overpriced. Come to think of it, why not simply ask Westin to organize something for me? Well, it’s not like asking for a favour. I might have to pay a hefty price for it but it will certainly fall into my idea of ‘big’. Oh yeah! Rock on!
Anyway, those are all considerations for the time being. I still have about a month to organize my 25th on the 25th. That’s right. It rhymes. That’s why it’s got to be big.
Another thing, this will probably sound a little aloof, but to save you the trouble and my potential awkwardness of saying ‘thank you’ not so honestly, here’s a few items that you could get me as a birthday gift, should you decide to do so. Kind of like a wedding register. So, here’s the list:
1. An Aston Martin DB9 – don’t worry, I know you can’t afford it. I think there are only a few people in the country who actually can. Even if you can, and you give one to me as a present, I don’t think I can pay for the petrol. Not to mention the road tax. I once saw a Mercedes with a 4.2 litre V8 engine which cost RM5000 in road tax. The DB9 has a 6.0 litre V12 engine. That’s three times the engine capacity of Valerie. It’s basically murder. Maybe I should just forward this in my wedding register. Just a case of convincing the future bride to agree along. She would most definitely think it’s stupid.
The REAL list:
1. Clerks (Part 1) DVD – it’s a movie, directed by Kevin Smith and so far I have a hard time finding it. It’s maybe because of the fact that it was released in 1994. I don’t think DVD technology was there in 1994. They were using something called a VCR. But they did re-release it in 2004 (to celebrate its 10th year anniversary). So, if you could find a copy for me – awesome. And it doesn’t need to be from Speedy or Ezy. The ‘cheap’ ones would do just fine.
2. Liberty Meadows Book 3: Summer of Love – it’s one of those comic strip compilations books like Lat’s Kampung Boy. The graphic artist is Frank Cho. If you could manage to find this book, you’d have a pretty good guess on why I like his work.
3. Next by Michael Crichton – if by blood, sweat and tears you couldn’t get your hands on the above items (I know they are hard to find), here’s an easy one - Crichton’s latest novel. Available in every major bookstores nationwide though, unfortunately, is only available in hard cover for the time being. So it would cost around RM70 a piece if I’m not mistaken. You could share, please, by all means. Just make sure every one of you puts a signature on the opening pages. For the girls, you could add a few X’s and O’s, and a lipstick mark (Jes would know what I’m talking about).
4. Grey’s Anatomy Season 2 – I always miss the show on TV. And I like Katherine Heigl. Do you know tha she’s one of the main girls in 100 Girls. Damn, I love that movie. Oh if you can’t find Clerks, get me 100 Girls. I’d be equally happy. I just hope Kevin Smith doesn’t read this.
5. Remember that Digi ad on TV where everyone is saying ‘hello’? There’s one scene where this man squeeze this pillow-like thingy on his desk which looks like a rat and it gives out this throaty yet cartoonish ‘hello~’? Yeah, I want that.
I guess that’s it for the time being. If I come up with any more quirky ideas, I’ll add to the list later.
Okay, folks, I think I’ll call it a day. But with the shitty state of the Internet connection, who knows when I will be able to post this up. Kind of lessens the excitement of the comeback, doesn’t it? Oh well, ‘til again. Cheers.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Najua: The Final Chapter
Oh God it feels awful, doesn’t it? Coming back after a long Raya break. Kind of feels like school again. And we tell the children to buck up. Tsk tsk shame on us. Well, for me, I was already back at the office since last Thursday so excuse me for not sharing your extra strong, double caffeinated Monday blues for today. I went past that phase last week. Much so when I had to spend my third Raya in the vicinity of Northport, Klang. Land of bad roads, oversized trailers and crow infested landfills. So don’t even talk to me about post-Raya depression.
Talking about depression, man, do I have something to tell you people. The subject on hand is none other than about the girl that I have been raving about for the past months. The girl that goes by the name of Najua.
Yes, maybe some of you have gotten tired of me talking about her and I promise you that this will probably be the last time I’ll mention her name on this blog. At least, I hope so. Because I said the exact same thing about Eiwa a few years back and look how well that turned out. Man, I really have to do something about my obsession with obsessions. Nice pun, huh? Anyway, okay, I admit, Najua is an obsession. No need to fuck around about that anymore. Screw all false pretences. Time for some cold hard truth.
I’m gonna lay it plain and simple. Najua is with Paul. Yes, by ‘with’ I mean as ‘in a relationship’, okay? Get the message? I, of course, am fucking disappointed. No, make that before. Before, I was disappointed. As for now…, now I am upset. And moving towards outrage. It’s not so much that I lost the battle for her, but I lost to a middle-aged, not-so-good-looking bloke from England with a receding hairline. I mean, seriously, what does he have that I don’t? Well, apart from money and power, that is. Oh wait, that’s probably it. Fucking money! And befriending the owner of the company to whom you work for which happens to be the girl's uncle! Oh how could I’ve been so blind!? Oh yeah, sure, and people tell me it’s love. Ah fuck love! What’s love gotta to do with it? It's all about those nifty little notes which comes with the Agung's face on it. You see what’s going on here? You see? This is why, this is exactly why good people like us have a hard time falling in love. These women, the same group of women who constantly complains about no being able to find a good man anymore these days could not spot one even when he is standing right under their noses. Besides, Paul’s penis is probably too big for her anyway. Najua is like Amy Mastura, y'see. She’s 4' 11'', this Najua, and Paul is like Sam Allardyce. Now, unless you’re a porn star, you and I know that spells incompatibility all over. You can’t shove a white board marker into a pencil sharpener. Something will get broken. And it won’t be a pretty sight.
I’m bitter. And I have every right to be bitter! But you know what? No one is to blame in this thing. Not Najua nor Paul. They’re just two confused individuals who during their ignorant endeavours on life, has left me hurt. Well, I’ve tasted even worse emotional pains before but this does hurt nevertheless.
I guess the situation now begs the question – what now? I still could go out with Najua – as friends, whatever fuck that means. But I’m certain she’ll try her very best to bring that old lugger Paul along. So, might as well forget about that. And to tell you the truth, he's not that funny. You know, lately, a few of my friends asked me what if Najua ever finds out about my blog. Well, before this I would’ve reacted in a horrified manner screaming “Oh fuck!! God forbid for that ever to happen!”. But now, if it does happens, I could calmly say that I couldn’t care less. As a matter of fact, I think it’d be better if she does finds out. So here’s to you, Najua, if you ever stumble upon this. Najua, you’re an amazing woman with such great potential in life and it is such a huge disappointed that you should fall for someone like Paul. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how wrong you are for each other. Sure, you’ve known Paul a long time and you probably think, hey, what’s wrong with that? Well, nothing, really. But don’t you think it’d be better if he’s twenty years younger? I don’t know about your family but if my sister comes home one day with someone who my father think is old enough to be his brother then I think he’ll have a heart attack then and there. As for me, I’d sell one of my kidneys just to get a smuggled gun to off him.
Najua, Najua, oh Najua. How could you even think that you will find no one else after your ex? I’d say 8 out of 10 guys will confess to how beautiful you actually are. And the other 2 are Ridhu and Watai. And it’s not as if you’re a bimbo. You have a degree for God’s sake. You tell me yourself how proud you are of that fact and yet, your actions contradicts everything that you’ve said to me. All I’m saying is as much as you favour Paul, I really do think you deserve someone better. And it may not even be me but to pick Paul without even glancing at me? I take that as a personal insult. Of all your admirable qualities, Najua, your most notable weakness is probably your naïvity. The same trait that lead you to self-denial that your ex was really cheating on you and now, that you and Paul could actually have a future together. But maybe you will find happiness eventually. Hey, I’m glad if I’m wrong in saying that but I assure you it’ll be a journey full of hardship.
(sigh) My final say? Good luck to you, Najua. I just hope it’s a bigger lost for me than it is for you.
Now, for any one of you who now even much as think about notifying Najua about the existence of this blog by the time you've finished reading this, by the hair of a midget circus bear named Ralph, I forbid you. If Najua should ever find about this blog, it has to be self-discovery. I don’t care if it takes ten years from now before she even read this but, people, promise me this - no telling, no matter what. Unless if Sandra finds out about this first then the moment of truth would probably come sooner rather than later. I sincerely believe that woman is completely incapable of keeping a secret.
It’s enough that older men are aftering women my age, but a foreigner? Fuck this is just too much. Then what we local young men are left with? The ex-wives of the older men whom they left behind? What am I? Ashton Kutcher? I don’t care how good they still look. I don’t want used products! Damn these Hollywood trends. And we just blindly assume they’re cool. Well, aren’t we the clever ones.
Let’s close this chapter on Najua. She is no longer an issue. Well, at least it has been fun talking about her. It did give some direction to my blog for a while. Now that she’s become unavailable once again, I have no main issue to pursue anymore. Maybe I should attend more parties. But they always put on such terrible songs. When would they realize that Justin Timberlake actually couldn’t sing? And the same goes to Ashlee Simpson. And don’t even get me started on Paris Hilton.
Anyway, even though it has ended painfully (for me, at least) I thank you, Najua, for giving me hope and then crushing it to pieces, and to serve as an inspiration to It’s A Guy Thing albeit momentarily. And screw you, Paul.
Talking about depression, man, do I have something to tell you people. The subject on hand is none other than about the girl that I have been raving about for the past months. The girl that goes by the name of Najua.
Yes, maybe some of you have gotten tired of me talking about her and I promise you that this will probably be the last time I’ll mention her name on this blog. At least, I hope so. Because I said the exact same thing about Eiwa a few years back and look how well that turned out. Man, I really have to do something about my obsession with obsessions. Nice pun, huh? Anyway, okay, I admit, Najua is an obsession. No need to fuck around about that anymore. Screw all false pretences. Time for some cold hard truth.
I’m gonna lay it plain and simple. Najua is with Paul. Yes, by ‘with’ I mean as ‘in a relationship’, okay? Get the message? I, of course, am fucking disappointed. No, make that before. Before, I was disappointed. As for now…, now I am upset. And moving towards outrage. It’s not so much that I lost the battle for her, but I lost to a middle-aged, not-so-good-looking bloke from England with a receding hairline. I mean, seriously, what does he have that I don’t? Well, apart from money and power, that is. Oh wait, that’s probably it. Fucking money! And befriending the owner of the company to whom you work for which happens to be the girl's uncle! Oh how could I’ve been so blind!? Oh yeah, sure, and people tell me it’s love. Ah fuck love! What’s love gotta to do with it? It's all about those nifty little notes which comes with the Agung's face on it. You see what’s going on here? You see? This is why, this is exactly why good people like us have a hard time falling in love. These women, the same group of women who constantly complains about no being able to find a good man anymore these days could not spot one even when he is standing right under their noses. Besides, Paul’s penis is probably too big for her anyway. Najua is like Amy Mastura, y'see. She’s 4' 11'', this Najua, and Paul is like Sam Allardyce. Now, unless you’re a porn star, you and I know that spells incompatibility all over. You can’t shove a white board marker into a pencil sharpener. Something will get broken. And it won’t be a pretty sight.
I’m bitter. And I have every right to be bitter! But you know what? No one is to blame in this thing. Not Najua nor Paul. They’re just two confused individuals who during their ignorant endeavours on life, has left me hurt. Well, I’ve tasted even worse emotional pains before but this does hurt nevertheless.
I guess the situation now begs the question – what now? I still could go out with Najua – as friends, whatever fuck that means. But I’m certain she’ll try her very best to bring that old lugger Paul along. So, might as well forget about that. And to tell you the truth, he's not that funny. You know, lately, a few of my friends asked me what if Najua ever finds out about my blog. Well, before this I would’ve reacted in a horrified manner screaming “Oh fuck!! God forbid for that ever to happen!”. But now, if it does happens, I could calmly say that I couldn’t care less. As a matter of fact, I think it’d be better if she does finds out. So here’s to you, Najua, if you ever stumble upon this. Najua, you’re an amazing woman with such great potential in life and it is such a huge disappointed that you should fall for someone like Paul. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how wrong you are for each other. Sure, you’ve known Paul a long time and you probably think, hey, what’s wrong with that? Well, nothing, really. But don’t you think it’d be better if he’s twenty years younger? I don’t know about your family but if my sister comes home one day with someone who my father think is old enough to be his brother then I think he’ll have a heart attack then and there. As for me, I’d sell one of my kidneys just to get a smuggled gun to off him.
Najua, Najua, oh Najua. How could you even think that you will find no one else after your ex? I’d say 8 out of 10 guys will confess to how beautiful you actually are. And the other 2 are Ridhu and Watai. And it’s not as if you’re a bimbo. You have a degree for God’s sake. You tell me yourself how proud you are of that fact and yet, your actions contradicts everything that you’ve said to me. All I’m saying is as much as you favour Paul, I really do think you deserve someone better. And it may not even be me but to pick Paul without even glancing at me? I take that as a personal insult. Of all your admirable qualities, Najua, your most notable weakness is probably your naïvity. The same trait that lead you to self-denial that your ex was really cheating on you and now, that you and Paul could actually have a future together. But maybe you will find happiness eventually. Hey, I’m glad if I’m wrong in saying that but I assure you it’ll be a journey full of hardship.
(sigh) My final say? Good luck to you, Najua. I just hope it’s a bigger lost for me than it is for you.
Now, for any one of you who now even much as think about notifying Najua about the existence of this blog by the time you've finished reading this, by the hair of a midget circus bear named Ralph, I forbid you. If Najua should ever find about this blog, it has to be self-discovery. I don’t care if it takes ten years from now before she even read this but, people, promise me this - no telling, no matter what. Unless if Sandra finds out about this first then the moment of truth would probably come sooner rather than later. I sincerely believe that woman is completely incapable of keeping a secret.
It’s enough that older men are aftering women my age, but a foreigner? Fuck this is just too much. Then what we local young men are left with? The ex-wives of the older men whom they left behind? What am I? Ashton Kutcher? I don’t care how good they still look. I don’t want used products! Damn these Hollywood trends. And we just blindly assume they’re cool. Well, aren’t we the clever ones.
Let’s close this chapter on Najua. She is no longer an issue. Well, at least it has been fun talking about her. It did give some direction to my blog for a while. Now that she’s become unavailable once again, I have no main issue to pursue anymore. Maybe I should attend more parties. But they always put on such terrible songs. When would they realize that Justin Timberlake actually couldn’t sing? And the same goes to Ashlee Simpson. And don’t even get me started on Paris Hilton.
Anyway, even though it has ended painfully (for me, at least) I thank you, Najua, for giving me hope and then crushing it to pieces, and to serve as an inspiration to It’s A Guy Thing albeit momentarily. And screw you, Paul.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Pre-Raya Celebrations
It’s Raya season again. A time of joy and lots of food. By this time it is safe to say that about 60% of the city’s population has gone back to their respective kampungs to be with their families. But what about the other 40%? Well, we’d like to welcome Raya in a rather different way.
A few of us got together, picked a bachelor pad, order in stacks of pizzas and watch Man Utd vs Liverpool. Sadly though, Liverpool lost. Not that I’m a Liverpool fan. I’m just anti-ManU.
A few of us got together, picked a bachelor pad, order in stacks of pizzas and watch Man Utd vs Liverpool. Sadly though, Liverpool lost. Not that I’m a Liverpool fan. I’m just anti-ManU.
That's Watai with the red cap, me with the cool headpiece from Seaworld Indonesia, Kme in the white Liverpool shirt, Jalak in the red Liverpool shirt and Ridhu in green.
On the balcony are Small Fries (left) and Macho the host (right). Cipoi's on the right sofa alongside Jalak who I have no idea what he was doing. The TV is on the right. That's why we were all looking in that general direction.
That's Manjit on the left. Another Man U supporter.
Tasha Scoinsssssss!!!!
Since the match ended around 10 pm, we just had to go out somewhere else. So, we decided to provide KL with some company. More specifically - Starbucks, KL Plaza. This is Watai's rendition of an artistic shot - me on his digicam screen.
So, people, on behalf of all (including Jalak's finger), Selamat Hari Raya.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Majlis Berbuka Puasa Bersama Anak-anak Yatim (but without the anak-anak yatim)
Remember I told you about the buka puasa session that’s to be held at the JW Marriot during the weekend? Well, it went down smoothly last Sunday. This is a little bit about that night.
First of all, it was great to have most of the invitees present. A total of 13 people came and as the project manager, I’d say it was a successful outing. The people present were mostly friends from our university days and we hadn’t had a gathering as big and momentous such as this for a long time. Probably since graduation, which was last December. So everyone was excited and looking forward to this night.
Sadly though, the venue itself was a tad disappointing. It was probably because of the haze and the absence of rain on that day but it was incredibly warm on the premises. It was if we were all sitting beside a hot spring rather than the hotel’s swimming pool. And the food wasn’t great either. There were hardly any highlights. I could point out the roast lamb and that’s probably just it. Even the dessert table had only five items on it. Naturally I’d expected more from 5 star hotel buffet. I guess it explains the relatively low price as compared to other hotel establishments.
But most importantly I think everybody had fun. Especially with Kak Nieta around. So, to all who came that night, I personally thank you for making it a memorable one. It made the RM700+ full payment I had to pay upfront for the reservation worthwhile. 'Til then, people.
Webek! Webek!
Chillin' after a hefty meal. That's me flanked by women. But I guess you'd probably knew that.
First of all, it was great to have most of the invitees present. A total of 13 people came and as the project manager, I’d say it was a successful outing. The people present were mostly friends from our university days and we hadn’t had a gathering as big and momentous such as this for a long time. Probably since graduation, which was last December. So everyone was excited and looking forward to this night.
Sadly though, the venue itself was a tad disappointing. It was probably because of the haze and the absence of rain on that day but it was incredibly warm on the premises. It was if we were all sitting beside a hot spring rather than the hotel’s swimming pool. And the food wasn’t great either. There were hardly any highlights. I could point out the roast lamb and that’s probably just it. Even the dessert table had only five items on it. Naturally I’d expected more from 5 star hotel buffet. I guess it explains the relatively low price as compared to other hotel establishments.
But most importantly I think everybody had fun. Especially with Kak Nieta around. So, to all who came that night, I personally thank you for making it a memorable one. It made the RM700+ full payment I had to pay upfront for the reservation worthwhile. 'Til then, people.
Webek! Webek!
Chillin' after a hefty meal. That's me flanked by women. But I guess you'd probably knew that.
(left to right: Aritha, Me, Jes (at the front), Sasa, Irwan (at the back), Apau, Acai)
This is the shot ala paparazzi that Cipoi took (siap ade frame lagi). As you can see, from left to right, there's me, Irwan, Acai, Yusrizal, Small Fries, Aritha, Regina, Jes and Apau.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The Second Date, And Everything After
It was probably a month ago that during a casual evening drink with some of the boys and a healthy dose of cleavage at Syed Kelana Jaya that Cipoi made an unjustified remark on Najua to me. He called her a “backstabber”. I call it unjustified because he was obviously just ill-informed. And I didn’t even correct him. Mainly because if I did, then I had to lay out to him and the rest the whole detail surrounding the second date which had completely rendered the horrifying experience of the first date irrelevant. That’s right, people. I did go out a second date with Najua. Needless to say, it was awesome. But I didn’t blog it, nor told anyone about it. This would be the first time. I don’t know why I didn’t. Probably because I never got around the proper angle on how to tell everyone how great it went. It was great but nothing really extraordinary about it. A 40 year-old guy and an aunt in a silver Audi, now that’s extraordinary. But this one, it was just a good classic date. Kind of like staying at the Hilton. It’s just a great stay. Nothing more, nothing less.
However, I finally decided (maybe even compelled) to write something about it because as a consequence of not following up on the entre about the first date has left some, if not many, under the impression that Najua is a wretched, and maybe even vile, woman for the way my previous evening with her had ended. I, for one, would like to dispel all those beliefs.
The second date took place at Starbucks, KLCC. As for when, well, if the meeting with Cipoi was about a month ago, then the date with Najua could might as well be long before that. Anyway, to start off, taking her to Starbucks was actually a bad idea because it was then that I found out that she hates coffee. She likened black coffee as a watered version of an ashtray. Quite a harsh comment but she did mention it was all her mother’s doing. The woman practically banned coffee from all her offspring since birth. So Najua ordered a caramel macchiato instead. Mental note to self: no more coffee and cakes sessions with Najua. Well, at least not coffee. Cakes are still delectable.
We spent about three and half hours together talking. It’s amazing what a little drizzle during the evening can do. As the sun sets in the horizon and the plethora of lights came to life surrounding the KLCC Park area, it can only be described as perfect. The only way it can be bettered was instead of the Twin Towers, it’s the Eiffel Tower that loomed over us.
One of the highlights of the conversation was the topic of breasts. In particular hers. See, she was complaining on how she wishes to have bigger breasts. I, in one of my rare exceptions of going against the normal male genes, thought her wishes are quite ridiculous. Primarily for the basic reason that she looks good as she is. Isn’t that what women want? For men to appreciate them as they are? If you already have a good package, then additional accessories need not apply. Take Eva Longoria, for example. Or Keira Knightley, or Natalie Portman. Women who aren’t exactly famed due to their prized assets but still held in high regards by the male public nonetheless. But then again, after seeing last night’s episode of Nip/Tuck, I think her motives are understandable. But I still she looks fine as she is. Why ruin something which by definition already beautiful?
Anyway, we got to more surprisingly serious stuff afterwards. We managed to tackle the subject of marriage. I asked her how in the world could she, a woman who share the same age with me, was mentally prepared for something as big as a marriage before the debacle with her ex took place. And she replied, as cordially as possible, that she just was. And she still is. It’s just that she isn’t ready to jump into a new relationship just yet. It’s one of those things, I guess. You just know, you know? Damn, I sound like David Carradine here. But for a moment there, I had to say I was kinda spooked by her cool demeanor on the subject. Because I, for one, am petrified by the husband concept, let alone embrace it.
But one of the interesting things when were talking about marriage was how the perception of it had changed according to modern times. Back in the days women used to get married for reasons of security and stability. Not so true nowadays where women could have such a formidable career that could even lead them to become CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and Prime Ministers that the aspect of securing a financially stable future that used to come with the promise of marriage has fell well within their grasp. In short, women have become so independent nowadays that she doesn’t need a husband for a Coach handbag or a trip to Europe every year. We both agreed on this and so, I asked her, since between the two of us, she was the one who got very close to matrimony.
“So, what, if any, are the benefits of getting married nowadays?”
“Erm…you could have sex more often,” she answered while a smile formed slowly on that thin lips of hers.
It was then and there that I immediately fell in love with her. How many women do you know who can come up with an answer such as “you could have sex more often” almost nonchalantly when asked about the benefits of marriage? Not many I presume. Most would probably come up with something along the lines of emotional support, as to display a fair amount of intelligence and reason, and to differentiate themselves from the sex hogs known as men. Nothing wrong with that. Just that it’s boring. Come up with a bold statement like the one Najua gave me and it’ll definitely spice up the conversation.
What came next was probably every man’s nightmare when it comes to dating – stories about the ex. Luckily, I’m getting it after she has passed the ‘I’m over him’ stage. So I got the objective and rationalized of what went wrong instead of all the crying, Kleenex and ‘Why meeheee?’ version.
However, as it weird it sounds, but I actually find myself intrigued by her storytelling. Particularly the part on how much she had contributed towards the relationship despite all the chinks that began to show up during the final stages before the break-up. I could not believe how lucky his ex was to have someone as wonderful as Najua and how foolish of him to lose her. The difference between Najua the girlfriend and Najua the wife is probably the absence of a golden band around her ring finger because she on par in terms of everything else. She practically took care him. From making his favorite meals to doing his laundry, on top of all the stuff girlfriends usually do (ie being beautiful and loyal. Oh, not to mention providing emotional support). I’m particularly impressed by the fact that once she even made truffles for her ex. Truffles, man. I’m not even sure if my mother could make truffles. And she even regularly made cheesecakes for him too. I mean, demmit, if I have a girl that would make sinful desserts for me just to cheer me up, then, hell, I would be more than glad to take her out shopping and pay for her shoes. But then again, that’s me. Watai, on the other hand, has a whole different perspective on it. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. But since when do I ever give serious thought about Watai’s opinions, anyway?
Fast forward to present and I’m stuck in this whole Najua business. For starters it’s the fasting month and, oh Selamat Menyambut Bulan Ramadhan, by the way, and there goes my modus operandi of asking her out for little evening drinks. Watai said my tactics of conniving dates around association with food is getting lame. True, yes, but it’s also the most effective.
“Kalau camtu, bile nak pargon nye, Badok?”
See? I told you I can never take Watai seriously.
I could ask her out for a buka puasa session. As a matter of fact I am planning this huge buka puasa get together of 12 people taking place at JW Marriot this weekend, consisting of Jes, Sasa, Aritha, Zalina, Apau and Acai among others. The thought of asking Najua to join the party has crossed my mind. At first, I thought, maybe since Ity has moved to Shah Alam, I could invite her (Ity). And by inviting her, she would also be inviting her hostess for the time being, that is, Marina aka Sandra Oh. Sandra, in turn, would invite Najua and then I could act all surprised and be extremely jolly about the whole affair when they all arrived in scantily clad dresses. Sadly though, Ity could not make it because she already promised to be with her boyfriend (boo~). Funny, isn’t it? I never knew or met Ity’s boyfriend and yet he has become a deciding factor in one of my elaborate scheme of things. Oh well, guess I have to ask her straight up then. But wait, by doing that I’d be taking a significant risk. The big question is, would she enjoy herself there? I mean, sure she knows some of the people but the instances when she actually had spent time with the rest of the gang is few and far between. She’s not as close as the rest of us are with each other. That could be a stumbling block. And by inviting her personally I’d be undertaking the responsibility of making sure she’s having none of that awkwardness and make her feel as comfortable as possible. Not to mention making sure that she enjoys herself as well. And I certainly have no time for such crappy nonsense. The last thing I want to come between me and a 5 star hotel buffet is undue stress. So? Another time, another place maybe. Warranted she doesn’t invite Paul along. It’s not as if he’s fasting, anyway.
Also, I have taken into consideration some of the requests made by a few readers in putting up a picture of Najua on this blog and finally make you guys see how we are MFEO (made for each other) (Gaby Hoffmann, Sleepless in Seattle). So you guys better pray for me in getting that third date.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. On a parting note I’d like to make some discerning comments. The people I mention in this blog are true in existent, including the relations I have with them. I wish I couldn’t say the same about Paul but, yes, he too does exist. And no, Ridhu, I don’t exaggerate the facts. I just dramatize them. Ever heard of the term truth is stranger than fiction? I could be one of your prime examples.
It’s time for me to leave, people. I need to get to Pasar Ramadhan (Param) at Lorong Raja Muda and check out all the adorable young nurses from HKL dressed in their white uniforms and white canvas shoes like the ones primary school children wear.
We’ll talk about other women at a later date. Till then, people. Webek! Webek!
However, I finally decided (maybe even compelled) to write something about it because as a consequence of not following up on the entre about the first date has left some, if not many, under the impression that Najua is a wretched, and maybe even vile, woman for the way my previous evening with her had ended. I, for one, would like to dispel all those beliefs.
The second date took place at Starbucks, KLCC. As for when, well, if the meeting with Cipoi was about a month ago, then the date with Najua could might as well be long before that. Anyway, to start off, taking her to Starbucks was actually a bad idea because it was then that I found out that she hates coffee. She likened black coffee as a watered version of an ashtray. Quite a harsh comment but she did mention it was all her mother’s doing. The woman practically banned coffee from all her offspring since birth. So Najua ordered a caramel macchiato instead. Mental note to self: no more coffee and cakes sessions with Najua. Well, at least not coffee. Cakes are still delectable.
We spent about three and half hours together talking. It’s amazing what a little drizzle during the evening can do. As the sun sets in the horizon and the plethora of lights came to life surrounding the KLCC Park area, it can only be described as perfect. The only way it can be bettered was instead of the Twin Towers, it’s the Eiffel Tower that loomed over us.
One of the highlights of the conversation was the topic of breasts. In particular hers. See, she was complaining on how she wishes to have bigger breasts. I, in one of my rare exceptions of going against the normal male genes, thought her wishes are quite ridiculous. Primarily for the basic reason that she looks good as she is. Isn’t that what women want? For men to appreciate them as they are? If you already have a good package, then additional accessories need not apply. Take Eva Longoria, for example. Or Keira Knightley, or Natalie Portman. Women who aren’t exactly famed due to their prized assets but still held in high regards by the male public nonetheless. But then again, after seeing last night’s episode of Nip/Tuck, I think her motives are understandable. But I still she looks fine as she is. Why ruin something which by definition already beautiful?
Anyway, we got to more surprisingly serious stuff afterwards. We managed to tackle the subject of marriage. I asked her how in the world could she, a woman who share the same age with me, was mentally prepared for something as big as a marriage before the debacle with her ex took place. And she replied, as cordially as possible, that she just was. And she still is. It’s just that she isn’t ready to jump into a new relationship just yet. It’s one of those things, I guess. You just know, you know? Damn, I sound like David Carradine here. But for a moment there, I had to say I was kinda spooked by her cool demeanor on the subject. Because I, for one, am petrified by the husband concept, let alone embrace it.
But one of the interesting things when were talking about marriage was how the perception of it had changed according to modern times. Back in the days women used to get married for reasons of security and stability. Not so true nowadays where women could have such a formidable career that could even lead them to become CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and Prime Ministers that the aspect of securing a financially stable future that used to come with the promise of marriage has fell well within their grasp. In short, women have become so independent nowadays that she doesn’t need a husband for a Coach handbag or a trip to Europe every year. We both agreed on this and so, I asked her, since between the two of us, she was the one who got very close to matrimony.
“So, what, if any, are the benefits of getting married nowadays?”
“Erm…you could have sex more often,” she answered while a smile formed slowly on that thin lips of hers.
It was then and there that I immediately fell in love with her. How many women do you know who can come up with an answer such as “you could have sex more often” almost nonchalantly when asked about the benefits of marriage? Not many I presume. Most would probably come up with something along the lines of emotional support, as to display a fair amount of intelligence and reason, and to differentiate themselves from the sex hogs known as men. Nothing wrong with that. Just that it’s boring. Come up with a bold statement like the one Najua gave me and it’ll definitely spice up the conversation.
What came next was probably every man’s nightmare when it comes to dating – stories about the ex. Luckily, I’m getting it after she has passed the ‘I’m over him’ stage. So I got the objective and rationalized of what went wrong instead of all the crying, Kleenex and ‘Why meeheee?’ version.
However, as it weird it sounds, but I actually find myself intrigued by her storytelling. Particularly the part on how much she had contributed towards the relationship despite all the chinks that began to show up during the final stages before the break-up. I could not believe how lucky his ex was to have someone as wonderful as Najua and how foolish of him to lose her. The difference between Najua the girlfriend and Najua the wife is probably the absence of a golden band around her ring finger because she on par in terms of everything else. She practically took care him. From making his favorite meals to doing his laundry, on top of all the stuff girlfriends usually do (ie being beautiful and loyal. Oh, not to mention providing emotional support). I’m particularly impressed by the fact that once she even made truffles for her ex. Truffles, man. I’m not even sure if my mother could make truffles. And she even regularly made cheesecakes for him too. I mean, demmit, if I have a girl that would make sinful desserts for me just to cheer me up, then, hell, I would be more than glad to take her out shopping and pay for her shoes. But then again, that’s me. Watai, on the other hand, has a whole different perspective on it. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. But since when do I ever give serious thought about Watai’s opinions, anyway?
Fast forward to present and I’m stuck in this whole Najua business. For starters it’s the fasting month and, oh Selamat Menyambut Bulan Ramadhan, by the way, and there goes my modus operandi of asking her out for little evening drinks. Watai said my tactics of conniving dates around association with food is getting lame. True, yes, but it’s also the most effective.
“Kalau camtu, bile nak pargon nye, Badok?”
See? I told you I can never take Watai seriously.
I could ask her out for a buka puasa session. As a matter of fact I am planning this huge buka puasa get together of 12 people taking place at JW Marriot this weekend, consisting of Jes, Sasa, Aritha, Zalina, Apau and Acai among others. The thought of asking Najua to join the party has crossed my mind. At first, I thought, maybe since Ity has moved to Shah Alam, I could invite her (Ity). And by inviting her, she would also be inviting her hostess for the time being, that is, Marina aka Sandra Oh. Sandra, in turn, would invite Najua and then I could act all surprised and be extremely jolly about the whole affair when they all arrived in scantily clad dresses. Sadly though, Ity could not make it because she already promised to be with her boyfriend (boo~). Funny, isn’t it? I never knew or met Ity’s boyfriend and yet he has become a deciding factor in one of my elaborate scheme of things. Oh well, guess I have to ask her straight up then. But wait, by doing that I’d be taking a significant risk. The big question is, would she enjoy herself there? I mean, sure she knows some of the people but the instances when she actually had spent time with the rest of the gang is few and far between. She’s not as close as the rest of us are with each other. That could be a stumbling block. And by inviting her personally I’d be undertaking the responsibility of making sure she’s having none of that awkwardness and make her feel as comfortable as possible. Not to mention making sure that she enjoys herself as well. And I certainly have no time for such crappy nonsense. The last thing I want to come between me and a 5 star hotel buffet is undue stress. So? Another time, another place maybe. Warranted she doesn’t invite Paul along. It’s not as if he’s fasting, anyway.
Also, I have taken into consideration some of the requests made by a few readers in putting up a picture of Najua on this blog and finally make you guys see how we are MFEO (made for each other) (Gaby Hoffmann, Sleepless in Seattle). So you guys better pray for me in getting that third date.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. On a parting note I’d like to make some discerning comments. The people I mention in this blog are true in existent, including the relations I have with them. I wish I couldn’t say the same about Paul but, yes, he too does exist. And no, Ridhu, I don’t exaggerate the facts. I just dramatize them. Ever heard of the term truth is stranger than fiction? I could be one of your prime examples.
It’s time for me to leave, people. I need to get to Pasar Ramadhan (Param) at Lorong Raja Muda and check out all the adorable young nurses from HKL dressed in their white uniforms and white canvas shoes like the ones primary school children wear.
We’ll talk about other women at a later date. Till then, people. Webek! Webek!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Miami Vice
I could not believe how disappointed I am with Miami Vice. Somehow, Colin Farrell with blonde hair just doesn’t work. I get that Alexander The Gay vibe all over again. It’s so sad because I think he is a decent talent (Phone Booth, The Recruit). Just not with gold locks. As for the movie itself, it fell short of my expectations. I was expecting a gripping, non-stop action epic. Instead I get a patchy storyline, intermittent pace and an extremely cheesy love story as a side show. The only highlight I could think of is the F430 at the beginning of the movie and Gong Li’s butt. Even for the villains, I’d put Scar from Lion King as more terrifying than the ones in Miami Vice. Vice? Certainly doesn’t do justice to its title there, does it? But it does have a nice soundtrack. Actually, I’d recommend you to buy the soundtrack rather than the DVD of the movie when it gets released. And the mood is way too serious. You can be serious but you have to have a compelling dialogue to go with it as well, which sadly, this movie hadn’t had either. So, in the end, you don’t feel the drama. You want to, but you don’t. It doesn’t have that Bad Boys feel to it.
So, if any of you guys want to go through the trouble of catching this at the cinema, a word of advice, don’t expect too much. Wanna a cop movie? You’d have much more fun watching Rush Hour.
So, if any of you guys want to go through the trouble of catching this at the cinema, a word of advice, don’t expect too much. Wanna a cop movie? You’d have much more fun watching Rush Hour.
PS2
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s back! My PS2 is back! Well, it’s not really my PS2. It belongs to my brother. Mine will cost RM350 to get it fixed so fuggeddabout it (James Caan, Mickey Blue Eyes). He bought his during his time in Zurich. Purchased locally and brought there, of course. But ever since he got back, he left it, along with all his other Swiss stuff at my mother’s other house at Putrajaya. Multiple attempts had been made by me to my father (the only person who knows how to get there) to retrieve it but my approaches were continually delayed.
Alas, when the TV upstairs finally blew its tube, it was definitely time to pick up my brother’s TV at the Putrajaya house to replace it (and along with it, the prized PS2). It was either that or they have to contend with having me watching every football related show downstairs. As a Hallmark devotee, my mother found this very annoying.
So, last weekend my father and brother went to Putrajaya to finally bring back the almost forgotten treasures. When I came back from class that evening, I was delighted with glee. Finally my love for Winning Eleven on the PS2 was reunited once again. It wasn’t long before I got my hands on WE10.The glory days are back. Now I will definitely have no time to study.
Alas, when the TV upstairs finally blew its tube, it was definitely time to pick up my brother’s TV at the Putrajaya house to replace it (and along with it, the prized PS2). It was either that or they have to contend with having me watching every football related show downstairs. As a Hallmark devotee, my mother found this very annoying.
So, last weekend my father and brother went to Putrajaya to finally bring back the almost forgotten treasures. When I came back from class that evening, I was delighted with glee. Finally my love for Winning Eleven on the PS2 was reunited once again. It wasn’t long before I got my hands on WE10.The glory days are back. Now I will definitely have no time to study.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Talking Movies (an off-beat edition)
A couple of days ago I was at Low Yat, browsing through some ‘original’ DVDs at this store called Movie World. There was this other guy beside me who I noticed was getting restless because, I assumed, he couldn’t find anything that he would fancy. At one point, he stretched his neck over the counter where he saw the taukeh sorting a few DVDs to be placed into the cabinet behind him and asked, ‘Wah, pirates ah?’ motioning his head to a low stack at the side of the counter.
‘Er…yeah’ the taukeh answered.
‘Part 1 or part 2?’ the guy asked again, eagerly.
‘It’s not Pirates of the Carribean. It’s Pirates,’ the taukeh now giving him the look that any 17-year-old boy would have immediately understood. And yet, this 30-something guy was puzzled. So he picked up a copy instead and examined the cover.
‘Oh…’ the guy said finally, grasping what the taukeh had meant. He slowly put back the Pirates copy to its low stack on the counter, realizing that he had done something embarrassing and returned to his previous spot and pretended to flip through the other booklets that he had exhaustively went through earlier on. Needless to say, he left soon after that.
I found this scene rather amusing because I have a copy of Pirates myself. I downloaded it a few weeks back and it’s quite good. Keira Knightley’s character is especially hot. And although the ship is definitely CGIed but it’s better looking than any our local movies could produce. There was even praise from Newsweek quoted on the cover. I don’t know how much truth went into that. I don’t know if this is worth mentioning but I also have a movie entitled ‘The Da Vinci Load’. It’s not as good as Pirates but as it’s by Larry Flynt, it is quite funny.
Speaking about movies, I was surfing the Net and I stumbled upon this.
Apparently the Over The Hedge movie is based on a comic strip. Ah another borrowed idea from Hollywood. But I think the comic strip is better because unlike the movie it doesn’t need to end. The lunacy can just keep going on and on. And who can’t get enough of RJ, Verne and Hammy?
Now here’s a question of the day.
How do you feel if your car is featured on Pimp My Ride. Of course, if you’re driving a Proton or a Perodua then this question wouldn’t apply to you. But those of you driving around in a Japanese or a European make, what’d you think?
Well, I had my car featured on the show yesterday. I drive a 1990 Toyota Celica. Pretty decent car I guess. Still looks good despite being 16 years old. If there was a baby born on the same day my car was made, he/she would be studying in Form 4 now.
Anyway, Ity brought the show to my attention last night because I was watching Horatio Cane and his gang at the time. She even called me all the way from Johor just to make me change channels. So I did. At first I was pretty excited. I thought it was kind of cool to watch your car on Pimp My Ride. But you know what? It wasn’t. Because it made me realize two things.
One: if your car is featured on the show, then it means that the model has been around long enough for someone to abuse it beyond fucking recognition. Two: once the West Coast people has the car pimped, it just goes to show how much potential your car has in terms of pimpinality and how inadequate the current state of your own car is. Sure Valerie is ain’t as bad as the one shown on the telly but there a few dents and scratches. My rims aren’t that bling and I don’t have an IPod Nano, a smart phone and a G4 iBook hooked on to my car that would able to supply me 4 years of music without having to hear the same song twice. But I’ll live.
Ah another whiny post. I should stop whining. It turns women off. Mainly because by doing it we are taking over one of their roles.
My highlight of the day, of course, is the upgrade of my office laptop. Now I’ve got style and wireless connectivity. I can finally be one of those snobby people at Starbucks checking their e-mails on their notebooks. Unlike the previous notebook which weighs like it’s made out of lead. And a battery life of about 30 seconds. Now it’s slimmer and has Bluetooth capabilities. Ooh geek-talk.
The fasting month is coming in a few days. By next week there’ll be no more chillin’ during lunchtime and no fag breaks at the office. If you have the eagerness to go karaoke-ing with some butterflies then I suggest you do it quick. Not that it’s less sinful in doing it now rather than later but I guess it does make you feel less guilty. Funny how the human conscious works.
Before I end this post, I’ll leave you with this joke from AskMen.com
Pinocchio has just turned 16 years old and Geppetto thinks to himself: "My son is going to take an interest in girls, I had better explain to him about the birds and the bees."
So he spends time telling Pinocchio about girls and sex and making love and all that. Pinocchio listens intently and then goes off to experiment.
Some time later, Geppetto sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
Pinocchio replies, "Great! I'm doing fine, except that all the girls are complaining about splinters."
"Oh dear," says his father, "all I can suggest is that you smooth things over first with some sandpaper."
Some time later, he sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
"Who needs girls when you've got sandpaper!"
‘Er…yeah’ the taukeh answered.
‘Part 1 or part 2?’ the guy asked again, eagerly.
‘It’s not Pirates of the Carribean. It’s Pirates,’ the taukeh now giving him the look that any 17-year-old boy would have immediately understood. And yet, this 30-something guy was puzzled. So he picked up a copy instead and examined the cover.
‘Oh…’ the guy said finally, grasping what the taukeh had meant. He slowly put back the Pirates copy to its low stack on the counter, realizing that he had done something embarrassing and returned to his previous spot and pretended to flip through the other booklets that he had exhaustively went through earlier on. Needless to say, he left soon after that.
I found this scene rather amusing because I have a copy of Pirates myself. I downloaded it a few weeks back and it’s quite good. Keira Knightley’s character is especially hot. And although the ship is definitely CGIed but it’s better looking than any our local movies could produce. There was even praise from Newsweek quoted on the cover. I don’t know how much truth went into that. I don’t know if this is worth mentioning but I also have a movie entitled ‘The Da Vinci Load’. It’s not as good as Pirates but as it’s by Larry Flynt, it is quite funny.
Speaking about movies, I was surfing the Net and I stumbled upon this.
Apparently the Over The Hedge movie is based on a comic strip. Ah another borrowed idea from Hollywood. But I think the comic strip is better because unlike the movie it doesn’t need to end. The lunacy can just keep going on and on. And who can’t get enough of RJ, Verne and Hammy?
Now here’s a question of the day.
How do you feel if your car is featured on Pimp My Ride. Of course, if you’re driving a Proton or a Perodua then this question wouldn’t apply to you. But those of you driving around in a Japanese or a European make, what’d you think?
Well, I had my car featured on the show yesterday. I drive a 1990 Toyota Celica. Pretty decent car I guess. Still looks good despite being 16 years old. If there was a baby born on the same day my car was made, he/she would be studying in Form 4 now.
Anyway, Ity brought the show to my attention last night because I was watching Horatio Cane and his gang at the time. She even called me all the way from Johor just to make me change channels. So I did. At first I was pretty excited. I thought it was kind of cool to watch your car on Pimp My Ride. But you know what? It wasn’t. Because it made me realize two things.
One: if your car is featured on the show, then it means that the model has been around long enough for someone to abuse it beyond fucking recognition. Two: once the West Coast people has the car pimped, it just goes to show how much potential your car has in terms of pimpinality and how inadequate the current state of your own car is. Sure Valerie is ain’t as bad as the one shown on the telly but there a few dents and scratches. My rims aren’t that bling and I don’t have an IPod Nano, a smart phone and a G4 iBook hooked on to my car that would able to supply me 4 years of music without having to hear the same song twice. But I’ll live.
Ah another whiny post. I should stop whining. It turns women off. Mainly because by doing it we are taking over one of their roles.
My highlight of the day, of course, is the upgrade of my office laptop. Now I’ve got style and wireless connectivity. I can finally be one of those snobby people at Starbucks checking their e-mails on their notebooks. Unlike the previous notebook which weighs like it’s made out of lead. And a battery life of about 30 seconds. Now it’s slimmer and has Bluetooth capabilities. Ooh geek-talk.
The fasting month is coming in a few days. By next week there’ll be no more chillin’ during lunchtime and no fag breaks at the office. If you have the eagerness to go karaoke-ing with some butterflies then I suggest you do it quick. Not that it’s less sinful in doing it now rather than later but I guess it does make you feel less guilty. Funny how the human conscious works.
Before I end this post, I’ll leave you with this joke from AskMen.com
Pinocchio has just turned 16 years old and Geppetto thinks to himself: "My son is going to take an interest in girls, I had better explain to him about the birds and the bees."
So he spends time telling Pinocchio about girls and sex and making love and all that. Pinocchio listens intently and then goes off to experiment.
Some time later, Geppetto sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
Pinocchio replies, "Great! I'm doing fine, except that all the girls are complaining about splinters."
"Oh dear," says his father, "all I can suggest is that you smooth things over first with some sandpaper."
Some time later, he sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
"Who needs girls when you've got sandpaper!"
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Incompetence
Here’s a pop quiz for you:
What is more lembab than a woman trying to pay her parking ticket at an autopay machine?
The answer?
It’s 3 women trying to pay 2 parking tickets at an autopay machine.
This happened to me at Bangsar Village yesterday. You would not believe the unnecessary drama that unfolded before my eyes. First they can’t find their tickets, and then they tried to pay with the new RM5 note which the machine rejected. So they switch to the RM1 notes but found out they were short of them. Now the search was on for any coins that they have. When the fee was finally paid, the machine refused to spit out the ticket so one of them brilliantly pressed the ‘Cancel’ button and voila, the ticket did come out - along with their refund. So now they have start all over again.
At this point I was ready to shout out ‘You fuckin’ bitches!’ but held back when one of the parking attendants suddenly popped out told the rest of us queuing behind the three wannabe French poodles that we can pay our parking fees at the exit. Oh what a relief! I left the yelping scene without hesitation. But when I made my way past the parking attendant, who is a lady by the way, she made a whispering remark to me.
‘So slow,’
I just had to crack a smile and gave her an approving ‘Hmm’.
Can you imagine a woman calling another woman ‘slow’? How ironically funny is that? It’s like Victoria Beckham telling you that you can’t sing. And the parking lady was right. They were slow. I mean, how difficult is it to operate an autopay machine? I don’t care about your Gucci handbags and Fendi sunglasses. I have seen a monkey display a higher level of intelligence that all of you three combined.
As to confirm their lembab-ness, when I made my way with Valerie to the exit point, I came across them and they still haven’t reached their cars. Haih, what terrible children they will raise.
You wouldn’t believe how far people would go these days just to be an annoyance to the public. Just like the other day when I was at this petrol station. I was running a bit late to the office but my petrol was running low so I just had to stop for a fill up. All the pumps were full so I decided to pull up behind this motorcyclist, thinking he’d probably be the quickest to finish. And then can you imagine what this motorcyclist did next? He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. I couldn’t what I was seeing! It’s not like he was on a Harley. It was just a Honda EX5. He wanted to pay RM3 worth of fuel with a credit card? What the FUCK!? What is wrong with this person!? There is no valid reason why he should be doing this except by being exceptionally stupid. Could someone be that dense? Or does he just enjoy making the living hell out of strangers’ lives? He was lucky he was wearing his helmet. Otherwise I would’ve smacked him on the head with my car jack.
Haih, so please people, the next time you want to categorically divide your change in your compartmentalized purse, move to the side of the counter a bit to make room for the next paying customer. And please, do decide what movie you want to watch before you start lining up. And lastly, please oh please, learn how to operate an autopay machine. You’d do the world a whole lot of favor.
And they give us a hard time about not knowing where the clitoris is. And FYI, I know where it is.
What is more lembab than a woman trying to pay her parking ticket at an autopay machine?
The answer?
It’s 3 women trying to pay 2 parking tickets at an autopay machine.
This happened to me at Bangsar Village yesterday. You would not believe the unnecessary drama that unfolded before my eyes. First they can’t find their tickets, and then they tried to pay with the new RM5 note which the machine rejected. So they switch to the RM1 notes but found out they were short of them. Now the search was on for any coins that they have. When the fee was finally paid, the machine refused to spit out the ticket so one of them brilliantly pressed the ‘Cancel’ button and voila, the ticket did come out - along with their refund. So now they have start all over again.
At this point I was ready to shout out ‘You fuckin’ bitches!’ but held back when one of the parking attendants suddenly popped out told the rest of us queuing behind the three wannabe French poodles that we can pay our parking fees at the exit. Oh what a relief! I left the yelping scene without hesitation. But when I made my way past the parking attendant, who is a lady by the way, she made a whispering remark to me.
‘So slow,’
I just had to crack a smile and gave her an approving ‘Hmm’.
Can you imagine a woman calling another woman ‘slow’? How ironically funny is that? It’s like Victoria Beckham telling you that you can’t sing. And the parking lady was right. They were slow. I mean, how difficult is it to operate an autopay machine? I don’t care about your Gucci handbags and Fendi sunglasses. I have seen a monkey display a higher level of intelligence that all of you three combined.
As to confirm their lembab-ness, when I made my way with Valerie to the exit point, I came across them and they still haven’t reached their cars. Haih, what terrible children they will raise.
You wouldn’t believe how far people would go these days just to be an annoyance to the public. Just like the other day when I was at this petrol station. I was running a bit late to the office but my petrol was running low so I just had to stop for a fill up. All the pumps were full so I decided to pull up behind this motorcyclist, thinking he’d probably be the quickest to finish. And then can you imagine what this motorcyclist did next? He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. I couldn’t what I was seeing! It’s not like he was on a Harley. It was just a Honda EX5. He wanted to pay RM3 worth of fuel with a credit card? What the FUCK!? What is wrong with this person!? There is no valid reason why he should be doing this except by being exceptionally stupid. Could someone be that dense? Or does he just enjoy making the living hell out of strangers’ lives? He was lucky he was wearing his helmet. Otherwise I would’ve smacked him on the head with my car jack.
Haih, so please people, the next time you want to categorically divide your change in your compartmentalized purse, move to the side of the counter a bit to make room for the next paying customer. And please, do decide what movie you want to watch before you start lining up. And lastly, please oh please, learn how to operate an autopay machine. You’d do the world a whole lot of favor.
And they give us a hard time about not knowing where the clitoris is. And FYI, I know where it is.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
In Memory of The Crocodile Hunter
Although I am beginning to accept it but the fact that The Crocodile Hunter is dead still hasn’t sunk in. It truly is an unbelievable piece of news. The man who made me watch Animal Planet in the first place and made the word ‘Crikey!’ sounds kinda cool is no longer with us. He made us see that crocs are really ain’t that bad. It really is such a shame, a tremendous loss.
He’s adored everywhere. He was on Jay Leno, made a cameo in an Eddie Murphy movie and as FlyFM put him, he’s like Superman to children all over. And maybe even adults too. He certainly gave me the impression that he’s invincible. He’s like the embodiment of fearless when it comes to approaching wild animals.
He’s to you Steve Irwin. Thank you for opening up my eyes to what wildlife really is and in the words of Ali G, respect, respect.
He’s adored everywhere. He was on Jay Leno, made a cameo in an Eddie Murphy movie and as FlyFM put him, he’s like Superman to children all over. And maybe even adults too. He certainly gave me the impression that he’s invincible. He’s like the embodiment of fearless when it comes to approaching wild animals.
He’s to you Steve Irwin. Thank you for opening up my eyes to what wildlife really is and in the words of Ali G, respect, respect.
Friday, September 01, 2006
A Merdeka Post
As much as I’d like to put up a post commemorating our 49th Merdeka day celebrations, I’m afraid I’m not that good at writing patriotic articles. So, I found this captivating piece written by a brilliant columnist published in The Sun today and thought I’ll put this one up instead. It’s so good that I couldn’t have explained it better myself. Here’s a little sharing of thought, from Juana Jaafar.
A heart-felt freedom
Juana Jaafar
My thoughts are with my father this Merdeka. I can imagine us having a conversation about how superficially Malaysians celebrate the holiday, fussing over flags, fireworks and jingles.
I see us discussing the annual politics of Merdeka, where racial groups try to outdo each other's jingoism through boorish rhetoric. We would be watching television and appreciating some of the brilliant, heart-wrenching holiday advertisements that cost millions to produce.
We would then probably talk about the amount of money spent on this once-a-year corporate show of patriotism and how the funds can actually be used to send bright but underprivileged students for top-notch education. Ya, my father and I would definitely talk about that.
I can see our chat being disrupted by one of those offensive Filem Negara Merdeka clips. We would watch in disbelief at how the government, after all that back-to-the-future Super Corridor hoo-ha, would invade our private space with hazy power-point presentations that look like re-runs from the early 1980s.
Bad enough that they undermine our technological advancement, these productions are an insult to our intellectual maturity, using Cold War era propaganda techniques of associating the idea of freedom and harmony with marching tunes and military visuals.
I can imagine my father asking me: What does it really mean to be liberated, to be independent? He would ask this question, praying hard I would not regurgitate the dreadful answers I was taught in school.
You are right, Papa. Liberty and independence is not just about being free from foreign occupation. We may have negotiated our freedom with the British, but we are still heavily burdened by its racial and feudal divide-and-rule legacy.
It has shaped our social and political imagination in such a way that we are still by and large communal.
The public spaces we share seem limited to mamak stalls, shopping complexes and highways. The good folk of Klang Valley may beg to differ, but they only need to drive around town a little bit to see this reality.
Surely liberty and independence apply to more than just the material, the nation state. What about the colonisation of the mind? And ideological hegemony?
I am ever so grateful that my father raised us to be aware of the latent and the manifest. Since school my sisters and I were able to distinguish between news and propaganda.
As human beings we are of course gullible, but thanks to my father we are not so ignorant.
And what about conscience? My father always said that it is your conscience that will save you. It is the only thing that will force you to do what is right. If we were a nation with a conscience, we would not discriminate against race, religion or vocation.
We would not be flattening our precious forest reserves for slipshod housing developments, or be shooting barking dogs as we please. Nor would we have such crises as the "urban poor" or have corruption become part of our culture. Without conscience how can we have integrity? And without integrity, my father would say, one has no maruah.
My father died in peace last week after being ill for some time. I am still overwhelmed by the number of people who came to the house to pay their final respects to him.
He was a man who did not discriminate when choosing friends.
From Tan Sris and Datuks to former staff and drivers; Indians, Punjabis, Chinese, Malays and others; politicians from the left and right; scholars, writers and college students came to visit.
They were a pool of people perfect for one of those expensive corporate Merdeka advertisements, except that they were genuinely muhibbah.
My father was the quintessential Malaysian.
While I sincerely accept his death as God's will, my heart will be forever broken.
It is a good thing he married my mum 32 years ago on that very special Merdeka Day - a tough lady and a magnet who will keep the family together, looking out for each other.
In loving memory of my father, I dedicate this article to mum. Happy anniversary.
The writer is a regular Malaysian. Comments: feedback@thesundaily.com
A heart-felt freedom
Juana Jaafar
My thoughts are with my father this Merdeka. I can imagine us having a conversation about how superficially Malaysians celebrate the holiday, fussing over flags, fireworks and jingles.
I see us discussing the annual politics of Merdeka, where racial groups try to outdo each other's jingoism through boorish rhetoric. We would be watching television and appreciating some of the brilliant, heart-wrenching holiday advertisements that cost millions to produce.
We would then probably talk about the amount of money spent on this once-a-year corporate show of patriotism and how the funds can actually be used to send bright but underprivileged students for top-notch education. Ya, my father and I would definitely talk about that.
I can see our chat being disrupted by one of those offensive Filem Negara Merdeka clips. We would watch in disbelief at how the government, after all that back-to-the-future Super Corridor hoo-ha, would invade our private space with hazy power-point presentations that look like re-runs from the early 1980s.
Bad enough that they undermine our technological advancement, these productions are an insult to our intellectual maturity, using Cold War era propaganda techniques of associating the idea of freedom and harmony with marching tunes and military visuals.
I can imagine my father asking me: What does it really mean to be liberated, to be independent? He would ask this question, praying hard I would not regurgitate the dreadful answers I was taught in school.
You are right, Papa. Liberty and independence is not just about being free from foreign occupation. We may have negotiated our freedom with the British, but we are still heavily burdened by its racial and feudal divide-and-rule legacy.
It has shaped our social and political imagination in such a way that we are still by and large communal.
The public spaces we share seem limited to mamak stalls, shopping complexes and highways. The good folk of Klang Valley may beg to differ, but they only need to drive around town a little bit to see this reality.
Surely liberty and independence apply to more than just the material, the nation state. What about the colonisation of the mind? And ideological hegemony?
I am ever so grateful that my father raised us to be aware of the latent and the manifest. Since school my sisters and I were able to distinguish between news and propaganda.
As human beings we are of course gullible, but thanks to my father we are not so ignorant.
And what about conscience? My father always said that it is your conscience that will save you. It is the only thing that will force you to do what is right. If we were a nation with a conscience, we would not discriminate against race, religion or vocation.
We would not be flattening our precious forest reserves for slipshod housing developments, or be shooting barking dogs as we please. Nor would we have such crises as the "urban poor" or have corruption become part of our culture. Without conscience how can we have integrity? And without integrity, my father would say, one has no maruah.
My father died in peace last week after being ill for some time. I am still overwhelmed by the number of people who came to the house to pay their final respects to him.
He was a man who did not discriminate when choosing friends.
From Tan Sris and Datuks to former staff and drivers; Indians, Punjabis, Chinese, Malays and others; politicians from the left and right; scholars, writers and college students came to visit.
They were a pool of people perfect for one of those expensive corporate Merdeka advertisements, except that they were genuinely muhibbah.
My father was the quintessential Malaysian.
While I sincerely accept his death as God's will, my heart will be forever broken.
It is a good thing he married my mum 32 years ago on that very special Merdeka Day - a tough lady and a magnet who will keep the family together, looking out for each other.
In loving memory of my father, I dedicate this article to mum. Happy anniversary.
The writer is a regular Malaysian. Comments: feedback@thesundaily.com
A man, a woman and a discussion about Eskimos
‘Do you want to hear an interesting fact?’ said Jo. ‘Eskimos apparently have over fifty different words for snow. Snow’s really important to those guys – I suppose it’s because sometimes the difference between one type and another can mean the difference between life or death.’ She paused and laughed self-consciously. ‘You know they’ve got words for dry snow and wet snow, fluffy snow and compact snow. They’ve got words for that comes down fast and for snow that comes down slow – they’ve thought of everything.’
‘That’s a lot of snow,’ commented Rob as his eyes flicked to a scruffy-looking mongrel crossing the road in front of them, oblivious to the night bus hurtling towards it. It only narrowly missed being hit, but continued coolly on its journey to the bin outside the off-licence, which it sniffed studiously, then cocked a leg against.
‘So, what’s your point?’ asked Rob.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ replied Jo. ‘If Eskimos can come up with fifty words for snow because it’s a matter of life or death, why is it that we’ve only got one word for “love”?’
-Brand New Friend, Mike Gayle-
‘That’s a lot of snow,’ commented Rob as his eyes flicked to a scruffy-looking mongrel crossing the road in front of them, oblivious to the night bus hurtling towards it. It only narrowly missed being hit, but continued coolly on its journey to the bin outside the off-licence, which it sniffed studiously, then cocked a leg against.
‘So, what’s your point?’ asked Rob.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ replied Jo. ‘If Eskimos can come up with fifty words for snow because it’s a matter of life or death, why is it that we’ve only got one word for “love”?’
-Brand New Friend, Mike Gayle-
Monday, August 28, 2006
Ridhu
Ridhu kate kalau aku letak name die dlm blog ni (demi publisiti murahan), die akan kasi no phone awek dlm gamba yg terpampang di bwh
Spice kan buntut die? Cepat Ridhu! Kalau kau tipu aku declare kau lg pervert dr aku!
Spice kan buntut die? Cepat Ridhu! Kalau kau tipu aku declare kau lg pervert dr aku!
Friday, August 25, 2006
'Brand New Friend'
If there is such a thing as a chic-lit author for blokes then it’ll be Mike Gayle. I first came about his writing when I borrowed his first book My Legendary Girlfriend from my uncle. I thought it was different and vastly entertaining. But I truly enjoy reading his latest work, Brand New Friend. I would rank it higher than State of Fear or even The Da Vinci Code because unlike from running around England looking for knights’ tombs while keeping one step ahead of an albino monk assassin, Gayle’s story is feels closer to home. Anyone who has a penchant for reading, I strongly recommend Brand New Friend. Although I can’t be sure whether it’ll have the same on effect on women as it did on me. But I do want to know. So if you’re a bird and happen to pick up this book, tell me what you think about it. I would love to hear your thoughts.
As I said before, after finishing the book, it got me thinking. Now how often does that happen? A book has a got a bloke reflecting on his life after reading it. The last time this happened to me was when I looked through my first ever Playboy magazine. Yeah, maybe magazines don’t count but it really opened up my eyes on how far chocolate syrup can sensually be. Not to mention whipped cream.
Anyway, Brand New Friend raised something that I find very interesting. Well, the story is about Rob who spent almost all his adult life in London where he belongs to a close group of friends. One day, he had to move to Manchester to live with his girlfriend. So he had to leave his good mates behind and start fresh. Problem was he’s 32 and making new friends is kind of difficult. He struggled, of course, and after a year, visited his friends back at London for a little reunion. But what he expected to be an all-boys night out turned out into a couples night out.
All of his friends brought their respective spouses over because they felt wrong leaving them behind. Some were expecting their first child, some just got married and some were thinking about getting married. In so, the conversation that evening no longer comprised of meaningless opinions about films, music, football and who is the best looking actress ever to appear in a movie and in what movie she looked best. That’s how it used to be. Now it’s about honeymoon destinations and house prices in Didsbury. So Rob turned to his best and surprisingly still single friend, Phil. He too admits that the conversation going on does feel a bit strange. But things have changed, Phil said. Rob was about to ask since when did this started to happen but then he realized it was when he moved out to Manchester was the answer. His move was the first and the beginning. Priorities change. As you get older, that what happens. It’s inevitable. This was what got me thinking.
Next year I‘ll be 25 and even though I don’t think I’d be that old and was offended when one of the staff at Sunway College referred to me as ‘Encik’ but truth is, I will be THAT old. At first I did fantasize about working my way up to become a millionaire, buy a Brabus, grow a moustache and then by the age of 40 find myself a pop princess and marry her. But realistically that would be very impractical. The issue of children is one major weight point in that argument. Point being, staying single until I’m bored of it may not be an option. Sooner or later the friends you usually hang out with will begin to lead a life of their own. First they’ll get girlfriends or boyfriends, then if they think it’s the right one, get engaged and then married. This is no joke because I’m experiencing it first hand. One by one of my friends are getting hitched and I can’t stop thinking whether I’m being left behind here. Oh great, here I am in my prime and having Ally McBeal-like thoughts. By the way, side-stepping a bit, Najua was getting ready for marriage life if her ex hadn’t fucked up. It’s quite scary to think that Najua was actually ready to become a wife. I mean, my big priority in life is whether I can afford the PS3 when it comes out.
So when does a bloke like me plans to join the bandwagon.? Some of the people I know had set the deadline of the age of 27 or 28 to get married. I don’t think I can put further pressure on myself by declaring a marriage deadline. But I do think it would reasonable to do it before 30. Having said that, time is not in abundance. That’s more or less 5 years from now and that is not a long time.
I call this the Natural Progression concept because it’s normal that humans do progress from one phase to another in life. As much as I’d like to remain a heat-seeking bachelor all my life I know that’s impossible. Yes, some day I do want children of my own though I can’t see how will I manage that right now but I know that it’s lurking behind a corner somewhere, ready to jump me.
In the meantime, though, I’ll just venture on looking for that perfect person. Yes, I’m one of those idiots who still believe that there’s The One for everybody. My justification for it is why could be the harm of not believing in it? It certainly gives some edge on your perception of life. Whether I’ve found her yet or not is a different matter. A part of me likes to say ‘yes’ but another part is still hoping for something better. Okay this conversation is getting too soft. I’m just pissed Chelsea lost the other day. Oh how I’d like to see Abby today. Then she could give me that head rub. Aaahh~ Oh fuck it’s Friday init? Ah shait another weekend looming. I’m now apprehensive towards weekends. Me. Apprehensive. Weekends. Oh thanks a lot,… you…ah I got no one to blame anyway. Demmit, I do hope I have a highlight today. Too much lowlight can be very detrimental to my mental health.
So, cheers, people. I do hope you all have a lovely weekend. And a toast for me so that finally one day I could tell her how much I fancy her. Here’s smoke gets in your eyes…
As I said before, after finishing the book, it got me thinking. Now how often does that happen? A book has a got a bloke reflecting on his life after reading it. The last time this happened to me was when I looked through my first ever Playboy magazine. Yeah, maybe magazines don’t count but it really opened up my eyes on how far chocolate syrup can sensually be. Not to mention whipped cream.
Anyway, Brand New Friend raised something that I find very interesting. Well, the story is about Rob who spent almost all his adult life in London where he belongs to a close group of friends. One day, he had to move to Manchester to live with his girlfriend. So he had to leave his good mates behind and start fresh. Problem was he’s 32 and making new friends is kind of difficult. He struggled, of course, and after a year, visited his friends back at London for a little reunion. But what he expected to be an all-boys night out turned out into a couples night out.
All of his friends brought their respective spouses over because they felt wrong leaving them behind. Some were expecting their first child, some just got married and some were thinking about getting married. In so, the conversation that evening no longer comprised of meaningless opinions about films, music, football and who is the best looking actress ever to appear in a movie and in what movie she looked best. That’s how it used to be. Now it’s about honeymoon destinations and house prices in Didsbury. So Rob turned to his best and surprisingly still single friend, Phil. He too admits that the conversation going on does feel a bit strange. But things have changed, Phil said. Rob was about to ask since when did this started to happen but then he realized it was when he moved out to Manchester was the answer. His move was the first and the beginning. Priorities change. As you get older, that what happens. It’s inevitable. This was what got me thinking.
Next year I‘ll be 25 and even though I don’t think I’d be that old and was offended when one of the staff at Sunway College referred to me as ‘Encik’ but truth is, I will be THAT old. At first I did fantasize about working my way up to become a millionaire, buy a Brabus, grow a moustache and then by the age of 40 find myself a pop princess and marry her. But realistically that would be very impractical. The issue of children is one major weight point in that argument. Point being, staying single until I’m bored of it may not be an option. Sooner or later the friends you usually hang out with will begin to lead a life of their own. First they’ll get girlfriends or boyfriends, then if they think it’s the right one, get engaged and then married. This is no joke because I’m experiencing it first hand. One by one of my friends are getting hitched and I can’t stop thinking whether I’m being left behind here. Oh great, here I am in my prime and having Ally McBeal-like thoughts. By the way, side-stepping a bit, Najua was getting ready for marriage life if her ex hadn’t fucked up. It’s quite scary to think that Najua was actually ready to become a wife. I mean, my big priority in life is whether I can afford the PS3 when it comes out.
So when does a bloke like me plans to join the bandwagon.? Some of the people I know had set the deadline of the age of 27 or 28 to get married. I don’t think I can put further pressure on myself by declaring a marriage deadline. But I do think it would reasonable to do it before 30. Having said that, time is not in abundance. That’s more or less 5 years from now and that is not a long time.
I call this the Natural Progression concept because it’s normal that humans do progress from one phase to another in life. As much as I’d like to remain a heat-seeking bachelor all my life I know that’s impossible. Yes, some day I do want children of my own though I can’t see how will I manage that right now but I know that it’s lurking behind a corner somewhere, ready to jump me.
In the meantime, though, I’ll just venture on looking for that perfect person. Yes, I’m one of those idiots who still believe that there’s The One for everybody. My justification for it is why could be the harm of not believing in it? It certainly gives some edge on your perception of life. Whether I’ve found her yet or not is a different matter. A part of me likes to say ‘yes’ but another part is still hoping for something better. Okay this conversation is getting too soft. I’m just pissed Chelsea lost the other day. Oh how I’d like to see Abby today. Then she could give me that head rub. Aaahh~ Oh fuck it’s Friday init? Ah shait another weekend looming. I’m now apprehensive towards weekends. Me. Apprehensive. Weekends. Oh thanks a lot,… you…ah I got no one to blame anyway. Demmit, I do hope I have a highlight today. Too much lowlight can be very detrimental to my mental health.
So, cheers, people. I do hope you all have a lovely weekend. And a toast for me so that finally one day I could tell her how much I fancy her. Here’s smoke gets in your eyes…
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I Need A Girlfriend
I wish I have a girlfriend. There I said it. The last time I said that was back in 2003. I don’t remember what triggered me to say it back then but I know why this time around.
As a working individual, the weekends are supposed to be a period of release. For two days when you don’t to have wake up early just to beat the morning traffic or worry how to explain to your superior why you haven’t finished that report which you were meant to submit to him three days ago. You can put on your favorite shorts on and switch on the TV to catch the highlights of last night’s EPL games. Weekends are the time to kick back and relax as the world passes you by. I used to have that luxury. Now, even though a bit strained with the ACCA classes and all, I could still manage to find a bit of fun in between now and again. Even when I don’t have anything specifically planned for my tight leisure time, I still could find solace in playing FM, catch up on my reading or watch CSI Supreme Sunday. And with the new football season have gone underway, surely ‘boredom’ would be the last word in my vocabulary, right? Wrong. And how I hate to be wrong in this one.
Last Friday I have set myself a task, or call it a mission, if you may, to make an effort and call Najua for a second outing. Well, I didn’t, sorry to say. Mainly because I gave myself the lame excuse of not regaining my voice back yet. I still sounded like a 15-year-old record player. But in truth I was too chicken shit to make that call. Instead I called some of my mates looking for any type of amusement for the night. But it was a dire effort. One had to spend quality time with his girlfriend and the other told me to come up with something instead and later call back to tell him what it’ll be. Then what’s the point of me calling in the first place? So eventually, Friday night passed uneventfully. But it didn’t quite bothered me though because I get to play The Godfather game and it kicks ass, even more so if you’re a fan of the movie. Then again, if you’re a normal bloke, you should be.
Saturday mornings are supposed to be spent watching cartoons in your pajamas until noon with a sugary bowl of cereal in front of you. That is, if you’re 10. If you’re my age (or me, to be exact) then you’ll probably be watching Mythbusters and have a slice of soggy microwaved pizza in one hand. I had made a promise that morning that whether by hook or by fucking crook, I going to have fun that night. That is, right after class. Problem was, nobody who’s sane enough would make plans for Saturday night as early as Saturday noon. Unless you’re planning for a long day out that would stretch into the night, which wasn’t an option available to me. So, like it or not, I had to kind of wait until night itself to actually came before I can ring people to ask what’s up. At first I thought, that shouldn’t prove too much of an obstacle. I mean, I know quite a number of people. What are the chances all of them were not free? Once again, as it beginning to happen more often to me lately, I assumed too soon.
I probably called around 11 people that night and none, I repeat, none, were free. Some didn’t pick up, some were with their families, girlfriends, at weddings, you name it, every possible event that you could think of and all the people I called was attending some form of them. For 45 minutes I was pacing around the parking lot at Sunway College, exhausting the battery life of my Nokia phone until I finally got fed up, ignited Valerie and headed straight home to Gombak.
The whole family was out, visiting my sister at Shah Alam, so I had the house to myself. I took comfort in the living room, switched on the telly to Arsenal vs Aston Villa, turned up the volume and had a hot steaming pizza from Pizza Hut by my side. Very the bachelor style. It was kind of cool. But it didn’t feel like it. Truth was, I would’ve swapped everything that night for a hot female companion. It was then that I sighed heavily and wished how it would be great to have a girlfriend. At least, if I have a girlfriend, and if it turns out she has some plans with her friends, I could make her feel guilty for leaving me all alone. Then I would sulk, have a bit of a fight, won’t talk for a few hours, apologize and have make-up sex the following day. Awesome.
But this is not Faizad’s Fantasy World. This is reality. And in reality, Faizad does not have any girlfriends and there are times when everybody has a plan except for Faizad. Are you feeling sorry for me? Well don’t. I have enough pity for one day. I’m more annoyed right now. Want to blame somebody? Blame it on swine fluuuuuuuuu!!!
Anyway, back to topic at hand, my high hopes of getting laid on that Saturday night just ended at that – high hopes.
Sunday. What is there to tell about Sunday? I woke up ridiculously early for Sundays to drive across Klang Valley for 45 minutes to hear someone talk about the Malaysian Taxation system. While most of the population were chillin’ at home, I was learning about Capital Allowance and Qualifying Plant Expenditure all the way until evening.
As class ended and the afternoon heat subsided, I thought, well, yesterday was a mistake because when I called those people it was already the time when people already made their plans for the night and for me to come bursting through asking them to change it for my sake just, well, not right. Bad timing, if you’d call it. But this time, aha! This time I’m way ahead. It’s evening and it’s the right time to coax people to make plans with me. Besides, people don’t do much on Sunday nights. A simple drink would be enough to make my day and I know that isn’t much to ask for. So guess who was the first person I called? I give you a hint. Her name starts with the letter N. Haha, since my voice was pretty much ‘okay’, I say, why not? So I called Nosferatu, hoping for, well, anything.
But the bad signs were already there even at the beginning. I straight away got her voice mail, meaning she has her phone turned off, meaning she could be in a cinema, meaning she is already out having a good time, meaning I might as well forget it about seeing her today. Though I did try again half an hour later, it was the same outcome and further reinforced my theory. But in that half hour, I tried my luck with other people. Guess the second person I called? My muse, of course! But I was 30 minutes too late. She was already on the road driving and had her nieces in the back seat, tormenting her, as usual. Another one struck out. Then I called Aritha. She has a wedding to attend to that night. Sod. But we did manage a little chat and established that Solar flowers is another name for Sunflowers. I called Jes but she didn’t pick up. Then I remembered someone whom I haven’t spoken to in a long time – Aida. Ha tgk! Aku letak name kau ni, Aida! Anyway, Aida is probably one of those people that I click whenever I talk to her. Though I still couldn’t believe she’s a fan of my blog after all this while. In her words, she described my blog as “bes gile!”. It’s good to know that I have a growing fanbase. Also, she’s trustworthy enough not to tell Ara about my perversive thoughts I have written in this blog about her former roommate. Yes, indiscretion is key in blogging. So we got talking for quite some time and even when Jes returned my call I couldn’t answer because Aida and me were, well, sort of gossiping. I know, I didn’t think that I even had the ability but we did gossip. It was weirdly fun. We talked until my phone went dead. But alas, she too already has plans for the evening. Too bad, eh, mate? I returned Jes’ missed call but she told me to call back in 10 minutes because she was in a hurry to go out. Well, kind of defeats the purpose, ain’t it?
When I finally landed on the sofa, I was tired. Tired from classes and tired from calling people to ask for a cap.
“Man, I wish I have a girlfriend”
Then was probably time we have that make-up sex. And afterwards Nosferatu would lie naked next to me looking as beautiful as ever. Did I say Nosferatu? I mean, it could be just about anybody, right? Figuratively speaking. Err, moving on!
So, the way I see it to overcome this momentous amount of grievance is to blog about it. Haha, that’s not really the plan. I would’ve blog something anyway. I see this as a signal to further expand my social circle. Starting off with some of the people that I haven’t been in touch with for a long time. I know this isn’t really ‘expanding’ but more like ‘rebuilding bridges’. Anyway, like Aina, for instance. That should be an interesting prospect. Weird thing though. I’ve always enjoyed talking to these people, yet somewhere along the way I stopped calling them. I even called Regina that Saturday. I know Gambit would probably give me that wtf? look but truth is, I enjoy the conversations I have with her. Though she does have a tendency to be melodramatic when talking about the Korean movies she saw. The list would include you too, Aida. We are going to get together and talk about your single CBN friends.
Anyhow, thinking back, in the event I actually manage to secure a girlfriend, love of my life, my sunshine, puchini, whatever, question is, would that be something that I want? I mean, a man in a relationship? Would that make me a better or worse person? I’m contemplating this because I do know people who, once in a relationship, they tend to drift away from their friends. They made their partner their center of their world. Even in my current hectic lifestyle, I already am meeting less of my mates. I certainly don’t want to further distance myself away. Because it doesn’t feel nice. Even if my girlfriend turns out to be Diana Danielle even. Bold statement, I must say, even by my own standards. Point being, despite my desperate calls for a female companion, I think I still pretty much enjoy being single. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. Yes, last weekend was horrible but it could just be a stutter. There are certainly a lot more weekends to look forward to. I mean, what is it with having a girlfriend anyway? What it’s all about? (Jude Law, Alfie)
As a working individual, the weekends are supposed to be a period of release. For two days when you don’t to have wake up early just to beat the morning traffic or worry how to explain to your superior why you haven’t finished that report which you were meant to submit to him three days ago. You can put on your favorite shorts on and switch on the TV to catch the highlights of last night’s EPL games. Weekends are the time to kick back and relax as the world passes you by. I used to have that luxury. Now, even though a bit strained with the ACCA classes and all, I could still manage to find a bit of fun in between now and again. Even when I don’t have anything specifically planned for my tight leisure time, I still could find solace in playing FM, catch up on my reading or watch CSI Supreme Sunday. And with the new football season have gone underway, surely ‘boredom’ would be the last word in my vocabulary, right? Wrong. And how I hate to be wrong in this one.
Last Friday I have set myself a task, or call it a mission, if you may, to make an effort and call Najua for a second outing. Well, I didn’t, sorry to say. Mainly because I gave myself the lame excuse of not regaining my voice back yet. I still sounded like a 15-year-old record player. But in truth I was too chicken shit to make that call. Instead I called some of my mates looking for any type of amusement for the night. But it was a dire effort. One had to spend quality time with his girlfriend and the other told me to come up with something instead and later call back to tell him what it’ll be. Then what’s the point of me calling in the first place? So eventually, Friday night passed uneventfully. But it didn’t quite bothered me though because I get to play The Godfather game and it kicks ass, even more so if you’re a fan of the movie. Then again, if you’re a normal bloke, you should be.
Saturday mornings are supposed to be spent watching cartoons in your pajamas until noon with a sugary bowl of cereal in front of you. That is, if you’re 10. If you’re my age (or me, to be exact) then you’ll probably be watching Mythbusters and have a slice of soggy microwaved pizza in one hand. I had made a promise that morning that whether by hook or by fucking crook, I going to have fun that night. That is, right after class. Problem was, nobody who’s sane enough would make plans for Saturday night as early as Saturday noon. Unless you’re planning for a long day out that would stretch into the night, which wasn’t an option available to me. So, like it or not, I had to kind of wait until night itself to actually came before I can ring people to ask what’s up. At first I thought, that shouldn’t prove too much of an obstacle. I mean, I know quite a number of people. What are the chances all of them were not free? Once again, as it beginning to happen more often to me lately, I assumed too soon.
I probably called around 11 people that night and none, I repeat, none, were free. Some didn’t pick up, some were with their families, girlfriends, at weddings, you name it, every possible event that you could think of and all the people I called was attending some form of them. For 45 minutes I was pacing around the parking lot at Sunway College, exhausting the battery life of my Nokia phone until I finally got fed up, ignited Valerie and headed straight home to Gombak.
The whole family was out, visiting my sister at Shah Alam, so I had the house to myself. I took comfort in the living room, switched on the telly to Arsenal vs Aston Villa, turned up the volume and had a hot steaming pizza from Pizza Hut by my side. Very the bachelor style. It was kind of cool. But it didn’t feel like it. Truth was, I would’ve swapped everything that night for a hot female companion. It was then that I sighed heavily and wished how it would be great to have a girlfriend. At least, if I have a girlfriend, and if it turns out she has some plans with her friends, I could make her feel guilty for leaving me all alone. Then I would sulk, have a bit of a fight, won’t talk for a few hours, apologize and have make-up sex the following day. Awesome.
But this is not Faizad’s Fantasy World. This is reality. And in reality, Faizad does not have any girlfriends and there are times when everybody has a plan except for Faizad. Are you feeling sorry for me? Well don’t. I have enough pity for one day. I’m more annoyed right now. Want to blame somebody? Blame it on swine fluuuuuuuuu!!!
Anyway, back to topic at hand, my high hopes of getting laid on that Saturday night just ended at that – high hopes.
Sunday. What is there to tell about Sunday? I woke up ridiculously early for Sundays to drive across Klang Valley for 45 minutes to hear someone talk about the Malaysian Taxation system. While most of the population were chillin’ at home, I was learning about Capital Allowance and Qualifying Plant Expenditure all the way until evening.
As class ended and the afternoon heat subsided, I thought, well, yesterday was a mistake because when I called those people it was already the time when people already made their plans for the night and for me to come bursting through asking them to change it for my sake just, well, not right. Bad timing, if you’d call it. But this time, aha! This time I’m way ahead. It’s evening and it’s the right time to coax people to make plans with me. Besides, people don’t do much on Sunday nights. A simple drink would be enough to make my day and I know that isn’t much to ask for. So guess who was the first person I called? I give you a hint. Her name starts with the letter N. Haha, since my voice was pretty much ‘okay’, I say, why not? So I called Nosferatu, hoping for, well, anything.
But the bad signs were already there even at the beginning. I straight away got her voice mail, meaning she has her phone turned off, meaning she could be in a cinema, meaning she is already out having a good time, meaning I might as well forget it about seeing her today. Though I did try again half an hour later, it was the same outcome and further reinforced my theory. But in that half hour, I tried my luck with other people. Guess the second person I called? My muse, of course! But I was 30 minutes too late. She was already on the road driving and had her nieces in the back seat, tormenting her, as usual. Another one struck out. Then I called Aritha. She has a wedding to attend to that night. Sod. But we did manage a little chat and established that Solar flowers is another name for Sunflowers. I called Jes but she didn’t pick up. Then I remembered someone whom I haven’t spoken to in a long time – Aida. Ha tgk! Aku letak name kau ni, Aida! Anyway, Aida is probably one of those people that I click whenever I talk to her. Though I still couldn’t believe she’s a fan of my blog after all this while. In her words, she described my blog as “bes gile!”. It’s good to know that I have a growing fanbase. Also, she’s trustworthy enough not to tell Ara about my perversive thoughts I have written in this blog about her former roommate. Yes, indiscretion is key in blogging. So we got talking for quite some time and even when Jes returned my call I couldn’t answer because Aida and me were, well, sort of gossiping. I know, I didn’t think that I even had the ability but we did gossip. It was weirdly fun. We talked until my phone went dead. But alas, she too already has plans for the evening. Too bad, eh, mate? I returned Jes’ missed call but she told me to call back in 10 minutes because she was in a hurry to go out. Well, kind of defeats the purpose, ain’t it?
When I finally landed on the sofa, I was tired. Tired from classes and tired from calling people to ask for a cap.
“Man, I wish I have a girlfriend”
Then was probably time we have that make-up sex. And afterwards Nosferatu would lie naked next to me looking as beautiful as ever. Did I say Nosferatu? I mean, it could be just about anybody, right? Figuratively speaking. Err, moving on!
So, the way I see it to overcome this momentous amount of grievance is to blog about it. Haha, that’s not really the plan. I would’ve blog something anyway. I see this as a signal to further expand my social circle. Starting off with some of the people that I haven’t been in touch with for a long time. I know this isn’t really ‘expanding’ but more like ‘rebuilding bridges’. Anyway, like Aina, for instance. That should be an interesting prospect. Weird thing though. I’ve always enjoyed talking to these people, yet somewhere along the way I stopped calling them. I even called Regina that Saturday. I know Gambit would probably give me that wtf? look but truth is, I enjoy the conversations I have with her. Though she does have a tendency to be melodramatic when talking about the Korean movies she saw. The list would include you too, Aida. We are going to get together and talk about your single CBN friends.
Anyhow, thinking back, in the event I actually manage to secure a girlfriend, love of my life, my sunshine, puchini, whatever, question is, would that be something that I want? I mean, a man in a relationship? Would that make me a better or worse person? I’m contemplating this because I do know people who, once in a relationship, they tend to drift away from their friends. They made their partner their center of their world. Even in my current hectic lifestyle, I already am meeting less of my mates. I certainly don’t want to further distance myself away. Because it doesn’t feel nice. Even if my girlfriend turns out to be Diana Danielle even. Bold statement, I must say, even by my own standards. Point being, despite my desperate calls for a female companion, I think I still pretty much enjoy being single. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. Yes, last weekend was horrible but it could just be a stutter. There are certainly a lot more weekends to look forward to. I mean, what is it with having a girlfriend anyway? What it’s all about? (Jude Law, Alfie)
Friday, August 18, 2006
Thoughts
Is it true that some things are better left unsaid? Or there is a right time and place for everything? But what if that moment never arrives? Or what was said was uttered too late? Which then resulted in doing more harm than good? And make no mistake these are instances which are cannot be taken back or reversed. Once said, it’s sealed and will adjudicate a new course in your life. As one of the more popular saying goes, you have everything to gain but also everything to lose. Or as Michael Keaton once put it, “My life is complex”. Man, I’m beginning to sound like Ity.
Anyway, to more pressing matters – the haze. A little advice from health experts - less outdoors, more indoors. Less jogging, more TV. Less sex in public toilets, more in the bedroom.
Now that’s cleared, let’s move on to more urgent stuff – Najua.
After a prolonged period I think I have finally conjured enough strength to retackle this problem. Wait, problem? How can I say Najua is a problem? She’s not a problem. She’s, well, let’s just say a conundrum. No, even that is too long of a word. Anyway, doesn’t matter, point of fact is Najua is too much of a golden opportunity to be dismissed based on just one solitary date. Problem is though, and this is an actual problem, is while I’m feeling well psychologically, I’m physically unfit. I took Monday and Tuesday off this week because I was diagnosed with a viral fever. My first MC in 3 months. I’m still not completely cured yet even today. Quite a tough virus if you ask me. So, being unwell isn’t a probable option when you want to attempt that important 2nd date. As if I can’t give enough thought about it, anyway. You know, for a guy who’s interested in Najua, I’m doing a very terrible job at it. I haven’t called her since Ampwalk. When was that? Nearly two weeks? Or neither have she. Not that it’s important for her. She has Paul, for God’s sake. Oh yeah, now I remember why I decided against calling her last Saturday. She was probably with Paul. Last thing I needed was to hear what Paul did during the day. Or what he bought or didn’t buy for his apartment. Why can’t she have a girl friend who she hangs out with every weekend like any other normal single girl does? Where’s Sandra? Sandra! You’re not doing your job! I’d prefer Sandra over Paul any time of the day. For one, she’s a lot less intimidating. But sooner or later, if things should work out between Najua and me, I have to accept Paul’s presence one way or another in our future liaisons. Since she’s comfortable with him, she would expect the same from me should I want things to work out with her. Like the case with Siti Nabilah and her troupe. Now that would have been very difficult. Good God, Najua is like Mary. Remember that cripple guy who was Mary’s voice of reason? Paul is kind of like that. Only in that movie the guy just turned out to be another in a long list of her admirers. I don’t think Paul would go that far. That would just be disturbing. Wait a minute, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here? Should things work out between…? Let’s get back to reality here. Mic check!
I haven’t called her in a long time, which is not good. I still have a sore throat, which makes me sound like Farah Fawcett doing a bad imitation of Cookie Monster when I speak, which is also not good. The phone call, I imagine would be quite the disaster. Oh God, I’m speculating again. It’s just like last time. Nothing is certain until I make that phone call. It can be so nerve-wrecking dialing her number. But, at least it’ll be nice to hear her voice again.
I think I’ve figured out why I’m like this today. Because it’s Friday. I used to relish Fridays. Not anymore. Lately, Fridays are just like any other day of the week for me. With the slight exception that I can get up a bit late tomorrow. Then it’s back to Sunway and my whole week starts all over again. You’ve guessed it. My week ends at Friday evening and starts at Saturday afternoon. I no longer have weekend breaks. More like intervals. That’s why I’m now more pressurized to come up with something worthwhile to do on Fridays to make my so-called weekends at least feel justified. Another date with Najua would certainly fall into that category.
One reprieve though, the new EPL season kicks-off this weekend. Yes, Chelsea lost the Charity Shield and yes, Liverpool were the better team. Still, it’s a long season ahead and once we hit our stride, try to knock us down then.
So, task of the day – call Najua. Or not. I hope I can regain my voice by then. If not, there’s ….oh yeah, there’s always her. Well, I can’t tell you who she is. Every story needs a bit of mystery, don’t you think? Why do you think people keep coming back to this blog?
Anyway, to more pressing matters – the haze. A little advice from health experts - less outdoors, more indoors. Less jogging, more TV. Less sex in public toilets, more in the bedroom.
Now that’s cleared, let’s move on to more urgent stuff – Najua.
After a prolonged period I think I have finally conjured enough strength to retackle this problem. Wait, problem? How can I say Najua is a problem? She’s not a problem. She’s, well, let’s just say a conundrum. No, even that is too long of a word. Anyway, doesn’t matter, point of fact is Najua is too much of a golden opportunity to be dismissed based on just one solitary date. Problem is though, and this is an actual problem, is while I’m feeling well psychologically, I’m physically unfit. I took Monday and Tuesday off this week because I was diagnosed with a viral fever. My first MC in 3 months. I’m still not completely cured yet even today. Quite a tough virus if you ask me. So, being unwell isn’t a probable option when you want to attempt that important 2nd date. As if I can’t give enough thought about it, anyway. You know, for a guy who’s interested in Najua, I’m doing a very terrible job at it. I haven’t called her since Ampwalk. When was that? Nearly two weeks? Or neither have she. Not that it’s important for her. She has Paul, for God’s sake. Oh yeah, now I remember why I decided against calling her last Saturday. She was probably with Paul. Last thing I needed was to hear what Paul did during the day. Or what he bought or didn’t buy for his apartment. Why can’t she have a girl friend who she hangs out with every weekend like any other normal single girl does? Where’s Sandra? Sandra! You’re not doing your job! I’d prefer Sandra over Paul any time of the day. For one, she’s a lot less intimidating. But sooner or later, if things should work out between Najua and me, I have to accept Paul’s presence one way or another in our future liaisons. Since she’s comfortable with him, she would expect the same from me should I want things to work out with her. Like the case with Siti Nabilah and her troupe. Now that would have been very difficult. Good God, Najua is like Mary. Remember that cripple guy who was Mary’s voice of reason? Paul is kind of like that. Only in that movie the guy just turned out to be another in a long list of her admirers. I don’t think Paul would go that far. That would just be disturbing. Wait a minute, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here? Should things work out between…? Let’s get back to reality here. Mic check!
I haven’t called her in a long time, which is not good. I still have a sore throat, which makes me sound like Farah Fawcett doing a bad imitation of Cookie Monster when I speak, which is also not good. The phone call, I imagine would be quite the disaster. Oh God, I’m speculating again. It’s just like last time. Nothing is certain until I make that phone call. It can be so nerve-wrecking dialing her number. But, at least it’ll be nice to hear her voice again.
I think I’ve figured out why I’m like this today. Because it’s Friday. I used to relish Fridays. Not anymore. Lately, Fridays are just like any other day of the week for me. With the slight exception that I can get up a bit late tomorrow. Then it’s back to Sunway and my whole week starts all over again. You’ve guessed it. My week ends at Friday evening and starts at Saturday afternoon. I no longer have weekend breaks. More like intervals. That’s why I’m now more pressurized to come up with something worthwhile to do on Fridays to make my so-called weekends at least feel justified. Another date with Najua would certainly fall into that category.
One reprieve though, the new EPL season kicks-off this weekend. Yes, Chelsea lost the Charity Shield and yes, Liverpool were the better team. Still, it’s a long season ahead and once we hit our stride, try to knock us down then.
So, task of the day – call Najua. Or not. I hope I can regain my voice by then. If not, there’s ….oh yeah, there’s always her. Well, I can’t tell you who she is. Every story needs a bit of mystery, don’t you think? Why do you think people keep coming back to this blog?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
A Night of Pleasure
I finally got my wish last Friday. I had spent the night at The Ascott. And it wasn’t on the sofa.
It was on the bed, with three (or was it four?) other beautiful women. It’s one of the perks of having gorgeous women as your friends. You get to sleep with them occasionally.
It all started out as a birthday party for Jes, who actually celebrated her birthday on the 27th of July. It was held at non-other than her own apartment. Talk about convenient. It was fun, naturally. Lots of fried chicken, cakes and fake booze. It went as every Friday night should be spent. Alive, enjoyable, long into, ‘till morning.
My plan, initially, was to have a good time, leave around midnight, wake up early the next day, have a short revision on Business Taxation and go for the ACCA Progress Test 1 which was to be held that evening. But, things turned out rather lovingly different. I’ve always had this knack of being one of the last people to leave a party and this was no different. I stayed back after most of the people had left and watched the Chelsea vs Celtic friendly up until half time in the living room. It was probably around 12.30 am at the time and I was ready to bid adieu because there was no denying I was getting sleepy. I walked into Jes’ bedroom where the rest of the ladies were for hugs and kisses when suddenly I got a telling invite to lay down on the bed for a while. The rest, as they say, is history. I never got up until the sun was shining at 8 the next day. It was probably one of the best sleepovers I ever had in a long time.
Not only did I skip my supposed revision time, I also quite purposely missed the IAFG football semis against KPMG (Deloitte won 4-0, by the way). It did cross my mind to go and watch because the Stadium Raja Muda isn’t that far from The Ascott. But, then again, watch a football match or lingering around in a cozy apartment with four women in their sleeping attires? Ooh, choices…choices. There are a few instances when something supersedes any matter of football. This was one of them. Besides, it also gave me the chance to spend more time with Aritha. Oh yes, the maiden from Chennai. Just looking at her and hear her laugh again just brings back a sense of familiarity that I have so longed. Her presence alone brings a smile to my face. Yes, some may argue that 3 months may not be that long. That is, if only you’re not counting every minute that passes you by.
Yet, all good things have to come to an end, I’m afraid. I finally left around noon just for the sake of Sunway. You think I’d leave if I had a choice otherwise? I wouldn’t hesitate to stay even for a second. But I guess one wonderful night was more that I could have hoped for. Reminds me of that weekend in Kuantan. Oh that was a glorious one. That was two nights. And we even had Ity. Haih, good times. Good times.
You see, sometimes good guys do get a break. And there are times when guys like me who get really, really lucky.
p/s: Jes, please invite me over for more sleepovers. Please?
It was on the bed, with three (or was it four?) other beautiful women. It’s one of the perks of having gorgeous women as your friends. You get to sleep with them occasionally.
It all started out as a birthday party for Jes, who actually celebrated her birthday on the 27th of July. It was held at non-other than her own apartment. Talk about convenient. It was fun, naturally. Lots of fried chicken, cakes and fake booze. It went as every Friday night should be spent. Alive, enjoyable, long into, ‘till morning.
My plan, initially, was to have a good time, leave around midnight, wake up early the next day, have a short revision on Business Taxation and go for the ACCA Progress Test 1 which was to be held that evening. But, things turned out rather lovingly different. I’ve always had this knack of being one of the last people to leave a party and this was no different. I stayed back after most of the people had left and watched the Chelsea vs Celtic friendly up until half time in the living room. It was probably around 12.30 am at the time and I was ready to bid adieu because there was no denying I was getting sleepy. I walked into Jes’ bedroom where the rest of the ladies were for hugs and kisses when suddenly I got a telling invite to lay down on the bed for a while. The rest, as they say, is history. I never got up until the sun was shining at 8 the next day. It was probably one of the best sleepovers I ever had in a long time.
Not only did I skip my supposed revision time, I also quite purposely missed the IAFG football semis against KPMG (Deloitte won 4-0, by the way). It did cross my mind to go and watch because the Stadium Raja Muda isn’t that far from The Ascott. But, then again, watch a football match or lingering around in a cozy apartment with four women in their sleeping attires? Ooh, choices…choices. There are a few instances when something supersedes any matter of football. This was one of them. Besides, it also gave me the chance to spend more time with Aritha. Oh yes, the maiden from Chennai. Just looking at her and hear her laugh again just brings back a sense of familiarity that I have so longed. Her presence alone brings a smile to my face. Yes, some may argue that 3 months may not be that long. That is, if only you’re not counting every minute that passes you by.
Yet, all good things have to come to an end, I’m afraid. I finally left around noon just for the sake of Sunway. You think I’d leave if I had a choice otherwise? I wouldn’t hesitate to stay even for a second. But I guess one wonderful night was more that I could have hoped for. Reminds me of that weekend in Kuantan. Oh that was a glorious one. That was two nights. And we even had Ity. Haih, good times. Good times.
You see, sometimes good guys do get a break. And there are times when guys like me who get really, really lucky.
p/s: Jes, please invite me over for more sleepovers. Please?
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Najua
Okay. Here we go.
(clears throat)
Najua.
She's...er, no.
The thing is....
Well, it's...
Ah forget it.
(clears throat)
Najua.
She's...er, no.
The thing is....
Well, it's...
Ah forget it.
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