Honesty In A Bucket

One week ago, Amir had asked me if I could be his referee for this all-important, make or break interview called Temuduga Tapisan Halus Keselamatan in Putrajaya. The catch was, instead of only him, I’d get to be interviewed as well. Little did he know I hate interviews - which I abhor more than waking up at 7 in the morning for a jog - and that’s saying a lot!

But in a slightly more tasteful gesture of friendship than a pendant vial filled with my own blood, I said Yes.

Anyone who thinks ‘honesty is the best policy’ wasn’t in this room the other day.

“Do you have any reason to believe, beyond the reasonable doubts that En. Amir is a heavy smoker?”

“Of course not, he loves his internal organs so much to ruin them”

(Gulp. The dreaded truth is that he’s probably the single biggest ozone-ripping producer in the world that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.)

Think I committed a sin, did you? O No, I was only telling the ‘half-truth’, barefaced to the interviewer - he does, in fact, love his organs.

Yeah I know, I didn’t give the whole truthful answer but how could I? He’s my best friend and if my 'little' white lies can buy me lunch, I’ll be lying some more for him, I tell you that. But the real fact is I do care if he couldn’t be confirmed his position due to my reckless lying skills, so be it.

And just make it quite clear to everyone I am a big fan of honesty myself. You see, in a remote little country called Mus-land, lying is sinful and honesty is gold. But up until last week, only that I realized, in the real, ruthless world people lie as an easy way out in the name of survival.

The truth can often shame the devil pink. But it can also hurt, which is why a fib is sometimes better than the fact. O my!

Disturbing innit? I think I need to shower.

Plans And Promises

It was a normal, everyday moment; I was talking on the phone with a friend, about nothing in particular, when she mentioned something unsettling. Not earth shattering, not life threatening but still unhappy

“Whatever happened to your plan?”

No matter how she put it, the question triggered a bad sensation. I felt deflated and on edge.

“O that plan. Erm..still in progress”

Even after the conversation moved on, the feeling stuck with me. I know I shouldn’t be bothered by this triviality of everyday concerns but I still feel it in my body and my head. The crummy feeling stays alive.

March 2009. Must show result.

Yeap. I have made a promise to myself to lose at least 30 kilos by next March. You see the promise was made long before Obama and his change came into the picture and I was stupid then.

Now that I am much wiser and Obama won; the message couldn’t be more loud and clear; Change now or forever wish I had.

So the next time I talk about diet and weight, I am gonna actually show some result and then drone you guys on about my ‘secrets’ and ‘success’ until your eyes glaze over. You’ll be putty in my hands. So watch out!

But until then, I think I’ll have a bite.



Cause I know it’s a long, looooong waaaay to go. At least I have plans.

The Silence of the Cockroaches

I’ve never been temperamental. Ask any of my family member and dear friend and they would happily describe me as docile, fun-loving, tree-hugging, mild manned guy - never the one who started a fight and such a good singer.

There’s nothing twisted about my childhood either. Never had troubled relationships nor ever being abused before. In fact I was raised in a very religious and sterile environment.

So it was came in as a surprise now that I confess;

I just (gasp!) murdered another living thing!

No one would have thought that my life would be ended the way it did. I didn’t mean to. I am sorry. It happened too quickly and I wasn’t thinking.

It was a stormy, wet afternoon and I was deep doing my work in the office when all of the sudden;

BAM!BAM!BAM!

Tsk! Tsk! Please forgive me Rochie - you poor, poor disgusting pest!

If Wishes Were Fishes.....

I’ve always felt inadequate when talking about cars - it’s like hearing Lindsay Lohan talking about United States’ foreign policy. Heck, I couldn’t even tell a screwdriver from a screw. I know I am that pathetic. Now imagine my father suffering having me for a son.

So when my vehicle started making a strange noise the other day, like any other hapless lady driver, I sought help from a friend, a self confessed car nuts.

It turned out that the air-conditioning system needed some ‘tweaking’. Phew! While I took a deep breath that it wasn’t something major, I could see my ignorant driving days will be numbered. I want to be ‘the man’. Sheesh, you know what I mean!

There are two ways I can see me handling this ‘shortcoming’ in the coming future while preserving my much-talked about masculinity.

First I could learn all there is to know about cars. Yeap, sign up for auto mechanics class and buy myself a car repair set tools.

Or I could just wish our ‘generous’ government suddenly decided to award me with RM5mil ex-gratia and get myself this baby. O My!

It’s gonna take cash to fill up my tank
So let’s crack open your piggy bank

If there’s one word to describe this car, it’s elegant. And sophisticated. OK, two words. And sexy. OK, three and no more.

If wishes were fishes we’d all have a fry. And what a big, expensive fray that’d be.

Life's A Musical!

And then you twist and shout
For your favorite star
And once you've practiced every step
That's in your repertoire
You better come on down
And meet the nicest kids in town

I broke out into a song this morning in the office.

Yes I am this crazy. Despite the fact I am a grown man in my early thirties, I still pretend I am a teenage superstar a la Jonas Brothers. Maybe some people will find this cute (there are some seedy types out there that'd pay a fortune for this type of thing). Most will find it either sickening or a sign of a deep, underlying mental illness.

But how am I expected to get it together? It's in my DNA, I cannot help it. Singing is my passion and dancing on the street is the only thing that gets me going so far.

And then there lie the problem; the world we are living in now (at least mine!) wouldn’t allow us to be overly goofy and musical. Everything and everyone must be staid and somber in color. Why so serious?

So it’s the ultimate fantasy of mine that we all live in a world that every one of us can lose it up; sing and dance on cue and - God have mercy – in sync!

Watching ‘Hairspray’ the other night for the kazillion times nearly made me shout in a crazy fashion;

“Life should be like this!”



Ah, wouldn’t it be nice and merry and great if all of us can sing and dance and goofy around with out big hair-dos and colorful get-ups like there’s no care in the world?

God! The world would be a much better place….well at least until I break out into songs!