Spam-a-Lot

gilian_continent: Hey mustaffa1977

19 FEMALE here and getting nude on my webcam. Look www.assistedlivingnow.info/?hkcrokc

Last message received on 12/15 at 10:21 PM

mustaffa1977: Hi Gillian, Nice to hear from you. Im a bit too busy to chat at the moment, but if you're bored, there's usually something good on the TV now. I like to watch Chapalrela (Astro Prima, 11.00pm)

mustaffa1977: Amazing that you should write because I’ve only just had an email from another girl who was bored and wanted to chat. She’s called Tamara and she seems very nice. Remarkably, she also complained about being lonely. I really think you should get in touch with her. I am sure you’d cheer each other up. Her email is Tampussy@gmail.com.

mustaffa1977: Thanks for writing. Usually I’m free during the weekends if you still fancy a chat. And do get in touch with Tamara. I bet it helps chase away the December blues.

mustaffa1977: :)

An Article For The Buletin

2010 has been a great year for all of us. A number of exciting activities that aim to forge better ties between staff and management have been successfully organized throughout the year. And among those memorable occasions that took place recently were the much-anticipated Bank Pembangunan Group Annual Dinner and Anugerah Khidmat Setia.

Joint together as one-night function, the Glam & Elegant themed event was undeniably a roaring success as around 600 staff including their spouses thronged the Grand Ballroom of Shang-ri La Hotel, Kuala Lumpur on 4 November 2010 for that special, once a year occasion.

Later that night, all that present including our VIP guests were being delightfully entertained with the riveting musical performance by our local singing sensation Anuar Zain, and with Sharifah Shahirah served as the celebrity emcee.



Anuar Zain, however, was not the only main star of the night. Recipients of the Anugerah Khidmat Setia were also received celebrity-like receptions when they went up on stage to receive their certificates and plaques; which by the way, fashioned closely after major Hollywood awards shows.

Not to be outdone by Sharifah Shahirah that night, our in-house emcees specially for the long service awards segment, Puan Munyati Muhamed Padzil and Tuan Syed Mustaffa Syed Mohamad went all out to add some ‘glamour and elegant’ to the award ceremony.

This is indeed an important event to us as we congratulate our employees who completed from 10 to 30 years of continuous service to the organization and thank them for their dedication and loyalty.

It is a known fact that the most important resource in any organization is its employees and without such, failure is imminent. Bank Pembangunan Group as a whole has undergone drastic changes in the past 36 years which have affected its staff and persuaded some to choose different careers. This special recognition is therefore held to acknowledge the hard work and contributions made to the organization by the recipients.

In terms of incentive and reward, the Bank goes all the way to ensure the staff’s loyalty and contributions wouldn’t go unnoticed. Each of AKS recipients, including the Retirement Awards was awarded with an exquisite-designed plaque, BSN gift certificate and a certificate of recognition from the Bank.

And the best thing is, all the awards and certificates was handed out personally to all eligible employees by our Group President/Managing Director, Dato’ Zafer Hashim, in present of the COO, En. Jamaluddin Nor Mohamad.



To all of the recipients, we would like to once again thank you for your commitment to the organization as a whole. Your hard work and contributions are invaluable and we trust that you have set the example for many more staff to share in your dedication and commitment and to follow in your footsteps.

Let’s hope that 2011 be a year of productivity and diligence for us all to achieve our aspirations and life dreams.

Keeping Score

I’m kinda embarrassed to say this; but it’s not that big a deal, so I am gonna say it anyway.

I’ve lost a few kilos. *Glee*

Okay. Maybe - Juuust maybe - a little, slightly-er, tiny weeny a big deal to me. *Nyeh3x!* I mean how often for you see me this excited about anything at all before?

Anyhoo, people do notice of me now. Though, come to think of it, it wasn’t so hard for them to “notice” me back then, nonetheless. Only this time, they would come to me, pat me in the back and often remark how ‘slimmer’ and ‘healthier’ do I look now. And in most instances too, without missing a beat, they would then ask for the “big secret”.

(Ha! Since we are on the subject, let me set the record straight here; there’s no big secret, really. No ‘magic’ pills. No fat disintegrating coffin-like machine. I am not on Galapagos weed grass diet. I am not terminally sick with some exotic diseases. And most importantly, no one dumped me. Ever. Gee…)

At the risk of sounding eerily like Jillian Michaels from The Biggest Loser, my only secrets are purely perseverance and hard work. (Yeah, lame, I know!)

Nowadays, I just hope I know how to be more gracious when taking in the compliments. I am a sucker in giving back the appropriate, spontaneous, sincere reactions. Just last week, a friend from office tried to offer a nice remark about the new me, when I inadvertently call her ‘fat’ by first; vehemently refused to accept the compliment and secondly; uttered the most inappropriate joke that fall flat in my face.

“Ish, mana ada, you tu kot yang makin besar’

It was a major foot-in-the-mouth situation and I just keep thinking there should be one more opening in my body that should be stuffed with both of my feet and my face too.

Man, I should have just merely say thank you, smile and shut up. So right now I am concentrating on getting better in that area, by learning to take it all in with more grace.

But the fight is far from over. I have few more kilos to get rid of. Finger crossed – should I not fell off the wagon anytime soon – I should be able to achieve my target my April. But there’s no rush. I have been though all this before. So now that I am wiser I’ll take one day at a time.

Who’s gonna keep score anyway?

I Am Awesome And I Am Back!

Well, here we are again. For those who really care, sorry about the long hiatus - three words: I’ve been busy. Life’s been, erm, well – to put it eloquently - a catalogues of ups and down and in-betweens. Mostly ups, it has to be said.

As is the custom in this page for the past few years, I won’t take you through the details of highlights during my ‘disappearance’, though contrary to the norm, this time, I’ll be as brief as possible and try not to make my life sound too amazing.

OK, let’s just start with, say, where have I been hiding? Truth is; I have a perfect explanation.

Exactly 26 days ago, as I was leaving apartment for work, I was abducted by the yellow-skinned aliens of the fourth moon of the planet Fortas, who planned to sacrifice me to their god-like King, Molas.

But don’t be alarmed, friends, cause, I, fortunately, managed to escape King Molas’s dungeon with the help of a gorgeous–but-rebellious, rightful Princess Yusras (who totally smitten and charmed by my good look and bulging biceps) and found the fifth element, which by the way, was disguised as an ancient relic somewhere on the top of alien, Divananas mountain.

I then, got to get King Molas to ingest it when he emerged from the palace, with his thousand Gurkha army. He immediately disabled and died under my stinky toes.

And the inhabitants of Planet Fortas once again live in peace. And I live to tell you this awesome adventure of mine.

See, I told you, I have a reason, a very good one right?

My apologies if I have been silence for so long. And even though I was busy with the threat of King Molas and everything, I am still thinking about this page. Or how can I inflate my ego even more.

I promise I won’t be this awesomely crazy again. I am just glad I am back.

Wild Boars Beside My Bed

I love to share the itsy-bitsy details of my boring existence here to the world. Whenever possible, I like to document the going-ons in my sucky life. It feels great to be able to take the loads of off my mind once in a while and writing about them keeps me alive - plus it’s good for my sanity too.

Case in point, as I write this piece in my hotel room, I am actually beginning to entertain the idea of committing multiple homicides by stabbing my roommates in the throat 24 times. They snore like a pack of mating wild boars and I think I am on the brink of a major mental breakdown. Luckily I got my laptop right now, so a lot of lives are saved tonight, I can promise you that much.

Anyway it has been a while since the last day I posted anything here. Life has been crazy. For the past few weeks there were too many things on my plate - one thing after another - that required my fullest, undivided attentions and pampering.

And this is just one of that many things that kept me occupied:

This is my nephew Ashraff Mukris Ismadi . He is 4-month old. And if my mom is to be believed, he looks a lot like me when I was his age. Okay, now everybody say, ‘Aww...so cute!’

Last weekend my parents, my sisters, and baby Ashraff were here in KL for a short holiday. Actually, they were supposed to come here last year after Raya, but the plan was immediately scrapped when my mom fractures her leg, a week before the planned date. So this time, after a year of making sure she is recovering well, we get the plan back on.

I was more than happy to bring them around the valley, although it was quite obvious 3 days visit was quite a stretch. We, however, managed to go to Aquaria KLCC, Ikea, The Curve and Sunway Pyramid in that short of time for sight-seeing and some shopping. We were all very exhausted but I hope they had a good fun here. I just wish they would stay a little longer. Owh, I miss them already. Tsk tsk.

And speaking about exhausted; on the social front, things couldn’t get any crazier. Recently 2 of my friends tangled in unnecessary, stupid argument (sugar coated as debate) over something that didn’t even matter.

Sure, friends fight all the time. That’s normal.Temper will flare and feelings get hurt. I totally get it. But why must we take it personally and start the insults? Why, in the heat of things, we tend to say the worst about each other that we might regret later. Why not just let go and take the high road? Aren’t we are supposed to be friends in the first place?

You know what, you go and ponder about those questions while I am re-phrasing my insults to these wild boars beside my bed…

My Electrified Fence

Honestly I don’t remember how we first met. Or any specific idea on my first impression I had on him (if there was any at all). But I do know I knew him from someone, way, waay back in the late 90s. Even then, I don’t think we ever passed the ‘hi’s and the ‘how do you do?’s. We simply weren’t that close. I guess, back in the day, I was a little bit cynical when it comes to meeting new people and he probably thought I was a stuck-up cynic, who couldn’t get over himself.

So it’s taken me and anyone else by surprise that after all these years and even after *cough**cough* I had a major fallout with the only person who introduced us in the first place, we are still in each other’s life and have become the best of friends. And that is saying a lot, especially when it comes to friends; I’ve been known to have my own personal electrified fence. I choose carefully.

Anyway, today is his birthday. And I would like to let him know (and 3 other people who might 'stumble across’ this post), I do appreciate and cherish our friendship. I know we had our ups and downs, but if there’s one thing he needs to know and remember why we stick to each other for so long is that– I simply adore him. And he got an IPad!



To a friend who…..

Shares my nerdy obsession to anything ‘Apple’ and high-fashion gadget,

Always tells the truth, never afraid no matter what, though your conviction probably needs some working on,

Are intelligent, articulate, funny and sometime maybe a little brass but always a ready and dependable friend,

Is someone I feel like I can tell and share every, little, personal, dark, disgusting thing, without making you wince even once or passing out,

Single-handedly makes full figure guys, like us, in fashion and desirable once more. Your confidence is stupendous!,

Are such an inspiration. I thank you.

Happy, joyful, blissful, fabulous 32nd Birthday.

And I truly believe, you, Herman Mizar Azmi, will always fit right in my 'electrified fence’.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?

One of my worst traits is also the one that I have been famous for, all my life – I seem to be too easy going and fun loving; void of any real emotions like anger and sadness; and hence, don't appear to have a single, freaking backbone to stand for what I believe is right.

I go a great length to avoid menial, sometimes necessary arguments or confrontations, even though most of the times it means I'd let everyone to walk all over me. I should have been called class A, Ross-Geller type pushover in 'Friends' or simply a spineless, no-balls of Pee Wee Herman varieties.

True, I don’t get angry easily. I believe I have the easiest, mildest temper among all my friends. People can pick my nose or kick sands to my eyes and I can possibly still invite them over for tea. Occasionally when I do get angry, I don’t even know how to react or express my anger intelligently, other than some display of my comical stunned look. People would find this hilarious and I ended up being even more infuriated.

Truth is, I hate to hurt other people feelings and I don’t like people hating me either, so I just continue, contenting to be everyone’s favorite doormat. I have this unreasonable, unhealthy need to be constantly liked by all people around me. It’s exhausting!

At the end, I would just bury everything under the ground and pretend nothing has ever happened or I have not been affected by this emotionally at all (even though it did, in a major way). I run and run, far and way from it all. I hide. Such a coward!

For the past few weeks now, more and more people have been testing my patient to the max. They took advantage of my good nature and chose to forget I have feelings too. I was feeling very angry. Sad and low even.

So what did I do? I went home and shared a blanket with my two teddy bears on the couch and turned on 'The Sound of Music'- the movie best described as a "film" about a family who sings together for no reason at all. It relaxed me.



From the very first opening scene of Austrian mountains and Maria dancing on the hills with wild abandon, lost in her songs to the Von Trapps final escape from German Nazi, I happily escaped to another world where I felt truly belong. I felt free and overjoyed as a truckload of sadness and hatred had been lifted off my aching heart.

I watched it again the next day, and the pattern continued for a week. The sixth and seventh viewings were when I began to memorize every lyric and mouth the words with the children whose names I knew by heart. I lost myself in the brilliance of the writing, music and acting. Each song touched my soul and uplifted my spirit.

Finally I understand, no movie can replace my sorrow and magically make any other problems in the world disappear in a mere song, but I can now fully appreciate the options I have right now to deal them better.

Watching the movie made me less angry and less suicidal but most importantly I have found my drug!!

The Fact Of Life

I am just annoyed by how fast I am losing my hair. Now I look like Bruce Willis after some decades of terrible luck. It’s really frustrating.

A few nights ago, after changing the bulb light in my room, I was finally able to look in the mirror clearly and see the reflection of my pores. And just like that, I was struck with a bolt of distilled horror like I have never known before.

Forget the clogging pores, dammit, I noticed how shiny my head looked like in the mirror, much like the oily backside of a newborn baby!

"Oh Man, this is really bad. It’s starting!"

And this, despite the fact that I drenched my scalp with franch oil for years now, every time I stand in front of a mirror, which quite honestly, about two dozen times a day.

And Oh.My.God. The franch oil makes my scalp itch madly, which feels like my genetic material mutating up there. Sheesh, I tell you, before I am sixty, I’ll mostly likely have to have my cancerous scalp removed and replaced with hip tissue because of that goddammit cheating oil.

Still I can't help it, my loser-with-dangerously-thinning-hair self need something that will 'work' with my toxic scalp right now. And as far as I am concerned, baldness is the male breast cancer. Only much worse because almost everyone gets it. True, it’s not life threatening. Just social life threatening. But in the planet where I live in, there is no different.

Urm, you know what, I am thinking maybe I should just get my head tattooed to look like very short stubble instead. Nobody would know unless they got very close to me, right? - my intimacy issues prevent that. Genius, right?

Fine. Okay, maybe I go a lil' overboard with this hair thing. Whatever!

So yesterday I went to Jusco and saw this product in the hair section called 'C. Michael’s Anti Hair Loss Treatment Spray and Shampoo'. The label claims "promotes the growth of healthy hair and leaves hair with healthy body, volume and shine". I bought three bottles.

The technology has improved, was my thinking. So will be my chances in my soon-to-be thriving social life.

It better be.

Eat, Pray, Love And The Meaning Of All That!

Raya used to be a special, joyous occasion for me. It was hugely an important day - bigger than the day I found my legs were covered with hair or the knowledge that I could now sperminate a girl with a healthy uterus. I religiously marked my little calendar months in advance. I simply couldn’t wait to put on my brand new raya clothes and my new raya shoes that my mom had painstakingly color-coordinated with the rest of our family members.

It was the day too, I was allowed to watch TV all day long and play with some hand-made mercun, which, by the way, probably were smuggled from our neighbouring countries. Raya was the only day I truly felt like belong - kinda like grand birthday bash for me that everybody are celebrating. It really did

Sigh, now not anymore. I guess, only kids can see that unrealistic, border-less optimism that no adult can.

We see, treat and feel the day exactly like any other day in our adult, hot-mess year. Okay maybe a little less Monday morning and more like Friday night but still, we can shake off the feeling of ordinariness that lingers throughout our waking moments - raya or not. We become jaded and materialistic to the core that clouded our inner, much deserved happiness. Thus, there’s nothing much to look forward to this year, except you know maybe, a couple of nagging questions like, "Man, how will I lost this extra 10kg of post raya weight?", "Did I forget to turn the faucet off before I left?".

Strangely nowadays, raya has become the day of utter emptiness and hollowness; Sadly, much like my wallet and bank account right this moment.

A few days before Raya, I was on the phone with my dear friend, Herman. He’s the kind of 'go-to' friend whenever I have some personal issues where I can’t tell anybody else about, even my mother or especially my mother. We’ve been friends for years and I find it endearing how comfortable we are with each other and able to just be. And I love him for that. (I, however detest him for having such thick hair and being 32 while I have almost no hair and just, erm, 27 and all)

Anyway, we were talking about our raya preparations and stuff when suddenly he mentioned something quite staggering. It completely threw me way off balance.

"I am hiring a maid for my mother to help her out for raya," he said triumphantly, as though he just won a political seat in local election.

Whoa, that’s so original of him. Where did he come out with that idea? Oprah? Hallmark Channel? Queer eye for the straight guy?!

"Really? That’s so sweet and so thoughtful of you."

He let the idea sunk in with me before launching the inevitable. "So, what did your get for your mom this year?"

I chewed on my thumbnail.

"Owh, the same thing I always give her - Money!"

This was followed by an awkward, crushing silent.

"Why don't you get her someone to help her too? This would be a grand gesture from you to her, a great 'ang pow' raya. I am sure she’ll appreciate that".

Aces aligned in my eyes, like a winning slot.

The truth is, the idea of hiring a cleaning lady in Kulai is not as bourgeois as it might be in KL, really, but , hmm, still..

"You know what other thing you should do? Try getting one for yourself”. He added with pretend concerns.

Gosh, he’s probably right. I am such a lazy bum, relying on my good looks alone to see me through life. I would never have time to clean my apartment. As it was, I was reduced to taking one Sunday a month and just scooping everything into trash bags.

I mean, I regularly drop off my laundry to be washed and folded, so why wouldn't I have somebody else to scrub the inside of my toilet bowl?

Suddenly the idea wasn’t felt that extravagantly bourgeois after all.

"Maybe I should”, I said to him in a renewed conviction.

I hung up before he got the chance to further guilt-trip me.

That wise friend of mine, always has something brilliant to share. As you can see, he’s happy to share the Raya’s ultimate secrets of happiness to me; togetherness, be thankful for everything that we had, blah, blah, blah you know, that sort of thing.

Well, at least one of us really knows the true meaning of Raya, doesn’t he?

Secrets And Lies

It’s a predicament I have to deal with every year – ‘to celebrate or not to celebrate?’, 'to blow or to pass?’, 'to lie or not to tell the truth?’ A part of me relishes the idea of balloons-presents-cakes-and-clowns combo but at the same time it’s also a cruel reminder on how close I am to senility.

Oh yeah, last Friday was my big day, it was my birthday, my so called anniversary. No, No, don’t ask me, “Yang ke berapa?” I won’t respond to that. It wasn’t even on the cake. I almost ripped the salesgirl’s face at the bakery for asking, “nak berapa lilin, bang? Yang besar nak 7 ke 8?” I just wasn’t in the mood for bad, tasteless joke.

You see, all I wanted for my birthday this year is solitude - a little peace and quiet from numbly, obnoxious questions like, “So how old are you now?”, "Why aren’t you getting married already?” but not getting questions like that in this special day is akin to avoiding bullets in Operation Desert Storm, it’s a losing battle. So at the end, I decided to play along and lie!

“I am embracing my life, as well as my increasing age.” (Lie!)

“I am actually one of those people that actually enjoy getting older.” (More lies!)

“I am 27.” (LIE! LIE! LIE!)

Yikes. I know that’s sick. But the fun thing is people tend (or pretend) to buy that. They usually go, ‘Wow, really? You don’t look a day older than 25. What’s your secret?’

"Well, unless if you live in space - in absence of the gravity or rather the pull of the gravity, you don’t sag - not taking things too seriously and having a good laugh once in a while, will definitely do the trick.”

And that’s exactly how I spent my birthday – having a good fun laugh. I watched Emmy winning new comedy show, Modern Family marathon on Astro and it was a HILARIOUS. And I'm talking the uninhibited, laugh-out-loud, knee-slapping, eyes-watering, till-my-side-hurt kinda hilarious. It felt like my whole body was shaking and laughing.

It’s fantastic new show on TV right now. It's smart and funny and about people who connect to form a strong and beautiful family, despite differing ages, sexual orientations, personalities, and cultures. Plus, a great performance from all cast. I love this show very, very much and I think you’ll love it too.

Phew, I feel 10 years younger already.

"Release The Kraken!"

This happen to me every year; days or even weeks into Ramadan, a pack of unscrupulous 'strangers’ (people who've never acknowledged my existence before, and suddenly become chummy with me) would come out of the woodwork pushing their Raya “must-haves” to me – you know, things like Baju Raya, Keronsang Raya, Kasut Raya, Tudung Raya or even *roll eyes* One Drop Perfume Raya (unbelievable!) - but mostly they are after me for their Kuih Raya varieties.

And I - being a gullible, sympathetic fool - would normally “force” to buy them in droves. Not that I desperately need 10 types of pineapple tarts or 20 packets of Rempeyek Kacang Hijau or anything like that; it’s just that, in this time of year, every little half-baked, bland, tasteless mold would appear like cuisine to me.

I tell you, the situation in the office is so chaotic, I sometimes imagine myself a lost Japanese tourist in an ancient temple somewhere in Southern India mobbed by underage beggars asking for small change. It’s maddening. And this would usually end up badly for me.

By the end Syawal, I would be stuck with boxes full of unopened tubs of a dozen of tarts varieties and I’d be forced to live off butter, flour and eggs and fats until my next paycheck. I guess, it means, I’d be too broke then to spend on healthy, nutritious food for a full one month. I would end up with at least 10 kilo overweight, that's for sure.

And the circle continues. Year out, year in.

So this year I want to make some changes to this routine. I am putting the record straight here.

The way I see it, people are taking advantage on my perennial (and yet charming) single status. They pity me for sure, but mostly they see me as a goldmine or a slot machine in the casino or maybe they see a big Ringgit sign on my forehead or whatever. I don’t know.

They think, single people got away with a lot of things, with a lot of dough in our hands to spend on ourselves only. They also probably think we are all selfish jerk who don’t care about others and averse to charities. Wrong! As the eldest in the family, I probably spend more money on my family back home during Raya than any single country’s pledge to Humanitarian Aid to Pakistan Flood at this moment. (I am not kidding. My mom and my sisters are of a very high taste and they know ‘exactly’ what they want)

I need to put a stop to this. This must end now.

So anyone who dares to come near my cubicle after this, just prepare yourself, “strangers”! I am imagining myself looks like Liam Neeson in ‘Clash of The Titans’ and I will chase you out in a booming Zeus voice, “Release the Kraken!”

And the Kraken will rage up, “EEEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!”

The Blame Game

I am a mess. Right now, my room looks exactly like an exploded recycle plant or something. It’s a total hopeless situation. There’s a pile after pile of unrecognized, urm, stuff. And man, it looks like something can really evolve in there.

Relax, I am not gonna post any photo evident here. The image would be too shocking, too gruesome; it’d give you weeks of sleepless nights. Trust me, I, haven’t sleep that well for weeks now.

Lately I am too tired to clean up after myself. Since the start of Ramadan, I feel too bushed and sleepy like, all the time to even care about my personal hygiene, much less, personal grooming. This year, fasting seems a little bit harder than before. I just lie around on my bed and wait for my housemate to dab wet towel around my mouth. I feel like I am 2-year old again.

For the most part, my day consists of sitting in a chair or lying, and maybe 'microwave-ing' something for berbuka, if I really want to strain myself. As such, I’m not really exerting myself that much, and thus, I usually don’t feel that dirty. I still shower every day, at least once a day. But I often just put the same clothes on after I shower, because they don’t seem “dirty” to me. I’m not above spraying some perfume or some air freshener on a t-shirt that I’ve already worn for two days and putting it on again. Does this make me gross? I’m actually pretty smell-conscious, and I think I can tell when an article of clothing has gone "sour”. Just this week, I wore the same pair of sweatpants and the same t-shirt for two and a half days. Does this make me gross? Not public sewage gross, but normal gross?

And just a couple days ago, I watched this Oprah re-run on Hallmark and she had this so-called special segment for hoarders in America. It’s basically about what are they and how they live their life - their home, family and stuff.

All I can say, *cue roll eyes*, “That’s nothing, dahling, come see my room now, and those hoarders’ houses would look like a NASA Research Lab in comparison". Seriously.

The thing that really bugs me right now, and probably shocking to some people, I used to be very neat and tidy *cue laugh track*. I freaked out seeing my dirty laundry lying around the house and I never wore the same socks two days in a row. (I am sure my ex-housemate, Hasmiron can attest to that)

God, I really don’t know how did I get here? I really want my old self back – the neat and the not-so-fat one, but right now it's too hot and I am thirsty. Sigh.

Great. Now instead of getting up and doing something about it, I find it much easier to blame it on puasa and write about it here.

And, as the Queen Oprah said on the show; it’s the first common thing among us, lazy ass, hoarders.

Damn you!

When I Send You This Letter, It Means Trouble!

This “unfortunate” incident happened two days before we all welcomed the Holy month of Ramadan, so excuse me, if I sounds a little 'un-Eid Mubarak', but being fooled and played around like a lapdog really drove me up the wall. Now tell me, what would you have done differently?

******************************************************

To Customer Service Manager and to whomever this may concern;

I’ve been subscribing your mobile service for many, many years now and never once did I make a major fuss about anything before, but what happened to me this morning really flew me off the handle and left me with no other choice but to write you this complaint letter against your less-than-desirable customer service standard.

I called your Customer Service Contact Centre this morning, around 7am and managed to speak with one of your customer service officers (CSO), which, the name I really couldn’t recall now. (I am sure you’ll be able to retrieve the call from your system/record)

I told him I bought a Nokia phone through Phone Hot Deal Promotion from Maxis Store on 28 November 2009. But today I couldn’t switch the phone on and since it’s still under warranty, my question to him was, “Where do I bring this phone for check up?”, “Do I bring it to Maxis Centre or Nokia Customer Care?” Apparently it was too much to ask!

He insisted that I should go to Maxis Centre and NOT Nokia Customer Care, even though I mentioned several time to him, it was more convenient for me to go Nokia Centre instead. I admit I was a little agitated about that but I said, fine, I went to Maxis Centre in KLCC anyway.

And BAM, whaddaya know, after braving the traffic, circling for parking and waiting in line for hours, I was unceremoniously turned away by your staff in the counter because, (surprise!) “We only entertained IPhone and Blackberry users”.

And to top off the humiliation, they even had the audacity to suggest me to bring my ‘lowly’ phone to Nokia Care Centre or ‘anywhere else where phone repair services' are offered!! Are you kidding me?

Of course I was exploded – like a busting dam. And rightly so! Is this some kind of sick joke?! Do you guys got a kick from seeing your customers running around like a fool?! Does your staff really know what are they doing?

In retrospect, I feel bad for the staff at KLCC centre now though for taking the heat from me for your incompetent CSO.

I don’t want to be difficult or unreasonably demanding but your CSO could have saved me a lot of trouble and time if he just told me the correct information the first time I asked him. I hate people wasting my time and energy for something unproductive and stupid like this. Do review my call this morning with him should you have any doubt about this or just think I was making this up.

I always considered myself a very reasonable man and had never been so livid. If it isn’t because I already signed up for your stupid plan/contract I wouldn’t wait a second to terminate the line - which I probably will!

This is by no means is an exhaustive list of the poor customer service from the so called leader in telco industry in the country. The trouble I had to go through this morning caused by your CSO was costly and it is unacceptable to be treated in this manner. I hope that this is a one-time experience that I will never have to endure again. However, I feel compelled to make my complaint known if for no other reason than I do not wish to see anyone else go through an experience such as this. Please respond with how you have handled this issue and how I can be sure this will never happen to me again.

Buck up

A very angry Customer

*******************************************

They called me back the next day, twice, yeap - TWICE, to apologize profusely and also to report that an appropriate action had already been taken to the CSO-in-question. And Oh, they also offered to waive my August bill for the trouble they caused me.

Neat. Okay, I wasn’t expected that, but fine, I am happy now. That did actually make things a little bit alright and definitely had changed everything.

Not sure if I wanted to start my Ramadan on that note though.

Eid Mubarak, everybody!

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

I want a good life
But I don’t want to look too eager
I want a good laugh
But not at the expense of others

I want to be heard
But no one is interested

I want to be praised
But I can’t stop being bad

I want to lose some weight
But I hate getting out of bed

I want to look good in nude
But seeing myself in the mirror put me in a bad mood

I want to love and be loved
But then again, it’s probably more than I deserved

Life is too cruel to be thankful
People are too unkind to be truthful
So I just weep and cry
Roll and whine
'Cause I know I may not always get what I want

Mus the Ungrateful Whiner
4 August 2010
12.51pm
Maytower Hotel, KL

Mr. Goodwrench

I am a man who always came ready with a joke, but when my car wouldn’t start yesterday morning, my sunny outlook on life turned overcast.

I went for a breakfast with a friend that morning and was about to leave when I noticed something amiss - my car made almost no sound when I turned the ignition – and apparently so did my heart. It stopped cold. I was already late for an urgent appointment and this absolutely would necessitate a double prescription for antidepressant.

Truthfully, I don’t remember all the banality that followed after that. All I knew was, I felt numb and disassociated. Just like when I kicked the headmaster’s son on the head in the playground as a boy, I understood only that something awful had just blindsided me.

I am no Chairman of Battery Council International or something, but I was pretty sure my car battery went dead.

Now, the thing about changing the battery isn’t as simply as plugging the car overnight to your bedroom wall. It is much more complicated than that. First you’d need a new battery, and then of course you’d need a person who knows how to change them. And rest assured that “person” wouldn’t be me.

I know I shouldn’t be so worried about killing myself when changing the car batteries on my own. But what worried me the most was to maim myself. So I rather leave that to the professionals. Honestly I can’t really see myself donning a pair of work gloves and splash-proof polycarbonates goggles to protect my manicured hands and eyes from battery acid and sparks. (Heck, I’ve never ever even been to an auto-parts store before, oh wait, except to buy vacuum bags for my vacuum cleaner)

Anyway, lucky for me, the car workshop wasn’t really that far from the place of event, so I walked a mile to the workshop, practically screaming for help.

In less than an hour or so my car was all done and ready to go, but not before I heard this wise-cracking, philosophical observation from the mechanic.

"Assuming the car is your body, the battery is like the heart. Eventhough in bodily sex-appeal rating it scores into the bottom half of the list - just inching ahead of the nose hair - it’s keeping everything together. Without it, the “body” won’t be able to function"

A very wise man, indeed, but don’t I know that already?

Confessions!

Ever since I started this blog a few years back, I have made a number of embarrassing confessions here, haven’t I? Some of them were quite juvenile, like when I admitted I ate my own fingernails; and some were downright chilling - that I have 2 pillows with porn star-like names like Kiki and Lulu. But nothing will prepare you for my next confession that I am going to let you know here:

I had never been to Penang before.

You heard me. Well, at least not until last Thursday.

Truth be told, I’ve never actually been to anywhere else. Yes, I work in KL and once a month I travel south to my ‘fully urbanized’ hometown, Kulai, Johor, but other than that, my so called ‘domestic vacations’ were mostly limited to southern part of peninsular of Malaysia, like Melaka, Kuantan, Port Dickson, Muar, Seremban and Alor Gajah.

For me, anywhere else weren’t even worth seeing or visiting. Okay, I was that smug. I liked places with better roads and clean tap water (Don’t hate me, I was misinformed). So when friends accused me of being arrogant, closed minded snob, I categorically denied it (I lied), but now I wish I just fessed right away, because that fib totally backfired on me. How so? My boss somehow came to know about this and so I was finally got an opportunity to go to Penang for work.

Ask me now how I feel again and I’ll confess I was in fact, a pompous jerk and soo damn wrong - they are places much better and more happening in Malaysia than just Danga Bay or Hang Tuah Mall.



And if you wonder whether I just said that because I am getting paid from Penang Tourism Board, hear this ‘love letter’ from my dear friend, Eijam, a true blue, hopelessly romantic Penang boy, as he put it succinctly.

“Penang has a bit of everything-beach, food, history, waterfalls, forest reserve, culture, unlike Singapore the make-believe island. And estuaries, paddy fields, fishermen village, lush verdant hills, and we are just talking about the island itself”.

So there you have it - a heartfelt, understandably enthusiastic confession of love (though, at the expense of other tourism-driven economy island down south). No argument there from me, dude! The descriptions are vividly telling and spot on. I am impressed.



I fond of Penang and that’s saying a lot from a guy who hates buah pala (pickles nutmeg), nasi kandar and mami jarum. I find the island, particularly Gurney Drive and Batu Ferringi are very exciting and wonderfully vibrant. I thrive in lively places like that. From its flashy night life to cheap pirated DVDs/VCDs, there’s no end to what you can do for fun here. I feel like in Macau though, minus the mobs of course.

Okay, okay I guess it's time for me to come clean and finally admit that I actually LOVE Penang! There I said it! - my next truest, straight-from-the-heart confession in 2 days and I am pretty much think I mean it.

Eijam on the other hand, probably was paid by the tourism board or harrassed by the mobs to say so. You know, just saying....

Confusion State Of Mind

I hardly go to the cinema without actually know exactly what I got myself into. And that means, most of time I would rely heavily on the “experts” (or reviews) before I finally decided to get into the car, brave the traffic, wait in line for the ticket and popcorn and sit through the entire movie run.

Usually, I read credible reviews from the internet and magazines. I buy a lot of entertainment magazines, like Galaxie, People and a certain malay magazine that I refuse to name here. I prefer magazines though, cause I got to read my horoscope and look at pictures of some movie stars without their make-up on, so I was definitely entertained.

Anyway when Christopher Nolan’s Inception caused a lot of reactions from critics, mostly positive ones, I was curious. I needed to check this out. So I did.

Okay, the story is quite ‘simple’. It’s about Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio), a spy who specialises in extracting people’s secrets by entering their dreams (only in those G-rated ones). He believes that you can also plant thoughts in your victims’ minds too: a technique called “inception”, though never proven successful. Japanese businessman Saito (Ken Watanabe) hires Cobb to do just this to Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), heir to a dying tycoon. And Yes, of course there’s always something, somewhere went wrong.

Get it? No? Me, urm not really. But that doesn’t stop me from declaring this is one of the best summer movies this year, other than that highly enjoyable Toy Story 3.

How so? Because it was so deliciously confusing, that to even admit that you get the story totally, you will end up having even more questions than before. You know, like, if the world you live in could very well a dream, as the movie suggested, why the hell am I dreaming a 20 kilo overweight dude in shorts typing this craps?!

Anyhow, there was very little not to like about the movie. All the actors gave superb performances all around, especially Leonarda Dicaprio and Oscar winner, Marion Cotillard as Mal, the dead wife. The cinematography was stunning, as was the imaginative set designs, gravity-defying stunts and a pulse-pounding musical score by Hans Zimmer.

I am not really sure what makes a movie “classic” to begin with, but I think it has to be at least 50 years old and some person or animal has to die at the end. Okay, not necessary true, but good movie these days are hard to come by and considering all the garbage the Hollywood keep churning out lately, ‘Inception’ wasn’t that bad after all.

The only complain I have is that, it was a teeny wee bit long and darkly depressing sometimes. I got home from the movie at 4 in the morning and I could barely sleep after that. There were so many questions that drove me crazy that I thought I must be losing my marbles.

Thank God for my trashy mags, I still have a good grasp in reality. And I must say, seeing Paris Hilton without her make-up really do the trick.

Paul And Mr. Schuester

So Spain won the World Cup! Isn’t that the biggest, most awesomest news you heard all morning? Being a half-Spanish myself, I can’t help but rejoicing with a grin as big as the strait of Gibraltar all day.

I stayed up all night last night, not only to see Andrés Iniesta scored the winning goal but to see if the octopus was right too.

I don’t know the first thing about football and that pretty much killed any chance of me to accurately predict which team will come out victorious, so I went the way of a certain prophetic, spineless aquatic creature that goes by a name, Paul; that the Spanish will kick the Dutch’s butt! And they did.

Still, supposed the octopus turns out to be a fraud and just a ‘spineless aquatic creature’, you can trust on this; I definitely won’t be bawling eyes or running naked around a football pitch. It’s - dare I say it - just a football game.

But it was indeed a beautiful game. And this year’s World Cup, though I might have missed a lot of matches, especially from those of pompous England, was super successful one. Still, I can’t escape the feeling that the real winner here is Paul, the octopus. Why? Cause I bet he will a get a bigger tank now.

Last week also marked the end of the journey of the other worldwide cultural phenomenon - or at least in my world - Glee. The season finale aptly titled ‘The Journey’ follows the Glee kids to the Regionals, the High School Choir Competition ultimate prize.

As you all now, I am quite emotionally invested in the series, so it was quite devastating for me to see my group of choice, New Directions being beaten by other supposedly "inferior” competitors, namely Vocal Adrenaline. I mean, O come on, third placing after Aural Intensity? This is travesty. They were robbed.

Anyhow, maybe Mr. Schuester was right. Sometimes in life, it isn’t always about winning or losing. It’s the journey that makes the memory more enjoyable and more meaning. Getting to where we want to be and winning the race isn’t half the fun as compared to busting our ass in getting there.

And speaking about being robbed, my weekend is 'robbed' next week. I’ll be away to Penang for work. I was supposed to take domestic flight, but I politely declined and opted to drive all the way to north, which by looking at my current driving record would take around 4 hour to get there. I guess I enjoy the in-between time before all the work starting to pile up over there. It's must be the most liberating feeling ever. Driving alone and pumping up your car stereo while holding a map in one hand are, well, priceless!

I hope Mr. Schuester is right, when he says, ‘It isn’t about when we get there that’s important but how we got there that makes it soo much fun”.

Wonder what Paul has to say about that!

Dream A Little Dream

I am hungry. It's 32 minutes pass midnight. I can't sleep. I guess I am still over the moon about the fact that the mighty Brazilian just got tossed aside by the lesser Dutch. Ha Ha. Oh wait, I know what is wrong with this picture - I talk about football?! Gee, I don't believe it either. But, before you go around and ask frantically, "Has the world gone mad?!" Let me get this fact, erm, straight; No, I don't go sweat for sports, for any reason, I just got a kick seeing my die-hard Brazilian supporters friends wept. And boy, didn't they really weep?

It must be the work of my sick, devious mind that I did the unthinkable - ditched watching Cerekarama on TV3 for unheard-of 90 minutes football match - just to see the much-beloved South American team got thrashed. I guess I really did relish seeing their fan licking their wounds. I am that baaad.

Anyway, other than enjoying feeding on other people misery, truth be told, I have always had a soft spot for the underdogs. I used to be an underdog myself. Though not exactly on the pitch, but 'perennial non-threatening underachiever' tag seemed to have become a permanent prefix in my younger days. I mean who would have guessed that I had actually won a singing competition when I was 10 or something? (Err, or through the first round or whatever). And no one would believe that.

And how about when I managed to complete 10km Nike run a couple years back? No one thought I could do that. Not even my close friends. They all said I would only deny the more deserving's and old people's right to the ambulance ride. But I said to myself, 'That's OK, let 'em talk whatever they want to talk'. It had only motivated me even more (Though, quietly, I wished all of them be eaten by a lion!). When I finally completed the race, for months and months after that, I NEVER let them forget that I actually did it.

It feels so good to prove others wrong, especially when no one expects it at all. That's why, I have always been rooting for the underdogs. It's akin to supporting to your own self, in a strange, inexplicable way.

Having said that, coming back to this World Cup stuff, secretly, I really want Malaysia to win the cup. Or at least qualify for final. I know it's a long, long shot and a gross act of collected denial on my part, but seriously, what would have been a more, bigger dream for some 'perennial non-threatening underachievers' than seeing our home-grown 'underdog' lifting the glorious cup? Alas, some dreams are never meant to be realized, just like my singing career. Urg!

All these talk about football and unrealized dreams make me hungry. Suddenly I have a insatiable urge for hotdogs. Anyone?

Gives You Hell

After all those years of getting pushed around by people who thinks they are better than me just because they're “less curvy" than I am, today I got news for them - unbelievably, super-exciting, awesome news;

I lost a kilo! Yeah!

Oh my God! I cannot freaking believe it! It feels as if I just found the cure of cancer or discovered a new continent or both. I feel so light, so up in the air like.....like a bird’s feather or H1N1 virus or something. Okay, not exactly true. I was being dramatic a bit, but I am definitely ready to move up a notch on the totem pole of our shallow, superficial social rank.

Maybe, a kilo lost, to other people, isn’t something remotely worth telling Oprah or Ellen about. You would probably say, 'Those people in 'The Biggest Loser' lost almost in 8kg in a week! And that IS news”. Okay, let’s being realistic here, people, I will never be able to lose that much weight in that short time period, not even if I eat nothing but nails; nor will I subject myself to that insanely torturous training with that equally insane, torturous muscular woman trainer. But, a kilo lost is still a lost, right?

I know my mom wouldn't be so hot on the idea. She hates to see me lost my "curve”. In fact, the other time she made me promised up and down, that I wouldn't do anything stupid like, chopping my limps or chugging a pack of nails to lost weight. For her, human’s overall health and well-being is solely depended on our ability to stock up fat in our body to keep us warm. Oh my, I seriously think my mom is mistaken the human’s anatomy with that American grizzly bear’s.

But today I wouldn’t want to worry her with this petty stuff, she has another, more important thing on her mind. My sister just delivered a healthy, beautiful baby boy. I can't wait to come home, see the baby, and hold him in my soon-to-be toned arms. I kinda promised myself I wanted to set a good, healthy example to my nephew. No more bad food, no more bad choices in my 'physical activities’.

Now, between my mom and that American grizzly bear, I have to confess the "real” reason why I am all hyped up about this 1 kilo thing is, urm, in point of fact, I really want to please my doctor. No, wait, my health. I need to look after my health! O you know what I mean.

The only reason, I guess, the doctor is on my case about exercise, lose weight and all that, is because she cares about me. (She probably wonders how I would look like if I am trimmer and leaner, like all the time, wink! wink!). That is why; I am going to see her again for the follow-up appointment in a couple of weeks. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be able to lose a couple of kilos more and make all her wishes come true. YES, I can do this!!

And to anyone who wants to be negative and says I can’t do this, I got another news for you, or rather, more like the words from track no 2, off the CD I just bought this afternoon.



When you see my face, hope it gives you hell,
When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell!!

Cause, in a matter of few weeks, you will got nothing more on me!

Extreme Jealousy

School holiday is over. That’s it. The best things about it - like the smoother traffic flow and un-crowded shopping mall - are over. Now, all my friends are starting flocking back to the office from their overseas trips. And I am SO not looking forward to this.

I don’t know if this makes me a bad person or whatever, but it’s hard for me to get interested in other people’s holidays, especially that, most of the time I don’t have anything to share back with them, except the ‘uohs’ and the ‘ahhhs’.

I’ve been trying to come up with an angle to separate myself from the rest of the gang like pretending to be extremely busy or really sick with some unknown contagious illness but it’d never fly with them. They always thought I was just acting up - quite possibly due to extreme jealousy. Pah!

The horrible truth is; people when they got back from holiday, they always like to cram it down my throat with whatever ‘exciting’ stories and the fads that are going on over there, over and over again. It’s really annoying.

And they sure seem like to enjoy torturing me even more when they put out their holiday photo albums, complete with an unofficial self-appointed tourist guide explaining every freaking single photo that usually would take one whole, torturous day! Duh, as if I need someone else to tell me the different between a kangaroo and koala bear?!

I guess, the only good thing that usually would come out of it is the mementos. I put a lot of effort buttering people up for the past few months and I hope it would pay off. So like moths get drawn to a light, me and a bunch of my other poor, single friends gathered around ‘the lucky ones’ the minute they opened the gift bag.



It wasn’t so stinky after all. Usually I get really crummy gifts like an expired chocolate bar or miniature chihuahua doll that lost an eye. Or some really girly pink pen that never work.

Great, now I have to say thank you and start a small talk. You know, butter up.

"Hey Mus, where did you go for the holiday?”

"Planet Pandora. Actually I was being abducted by aliens. They let me stay in their beautiful resort by the beach, in exchange for my consent on the anal probe".

Pause. Her eyes twitched.

"Anyway, I hope you like your plush toy”.

Now that ‘extreme jealousy’!

Because I Can

People asked me why I rarely talked about other people other than myself in my blog - to which I, egotistically yelped, “Because I can”. Well, as moronic as the question was, I just have this one thing to clear up; the blog is called Mus The Great for no other reason other than to serve my ego.

Plus, if you want to talk about other people you’ve got to be willing to offend, unintentionally or not, because whatever you say or write here will tend to be misinterpreted or taken out of context.

Still, once in a blue moon, I can’t help ranting about someone I know on this page - again, like I said - because I can.

There are a lot of things going on in my life lately. So much dramas and in-fighting around me. Honestly I am still trying to figure out what true friendship is, and it breaks my heart to see my friends going through some dark places in their life. I wanted to help, I just don’t know how.

You see, I was torn. I don’t want to be in the middle of things and irrevocably make it even worse. Or maybe secretly I hoped it’ll heal by themselves. So I just mugged it up.

I'm one of those people: I'm tired, I'm not that ambitious anymore. So a moment like this will come up and I'll just play my invisible role and do my best to stay out of it. Maybe it goes exploding on my face, but I don't take responsibility. I just walk away from it.

I spent a lot of time when I was younger dissecting other people’s problems and, going: "Oh, maybe you shouldn’t have done that, what if you had done it this way," to the point where, just for my mental health, I had to stop. I was very critical. It drove me nuts.

Driving home at the end of the day yesterday however, I was like, "Oh my God, I am an awful person. I should at least acknowledge their problems. I should have listened to them more. They are my friends. dammit."

Try to think about it; They have a big enough ego, yet they're willing to go out and also be vulnerable enough to fail in front of you. The least you can do, is to be there for them. And I should listen and be there for them now not only because I can, but because it's the right thing to do.

I Promise I Won't Bite

There are dozens of things that should upset me more than the introduction of GST by our government or that my car was being scratched by some idiots this morning but, deadly Israeli raids notwithstanding; being lied to several times by someone you consider “friend” really annoys the hell out of me.

Why there was a need to lie to someone when you thought trust and respect were what bonds us in the first place? I am perplexed.

While I am most certainly won’t be sharing any of that intimate detail here, I just hope a logical, reasonable and grown-up explanation that set off the lying from that friend of mine, would come forward to me soon. You know, just for my own education and closure.

I guess the part that hurt me the most was, not only the act of lying itself, it was more on how I perceived on why she compelled to do what she did – she hates me! Yeap, she would do and say anything to keep away from me. That’s how I see it. Why else anyone would commit that friend-averse attitude?

And the other thing sucks real bad was how she lied. The lies were so bad, as if they were all scripted by preschooler, or that she thought I was a preschooler! Is there something she not telling me? Why she risks a friendship by lying to not see me? I am appalled.

If you have something to say to me, girl, well you better say it now. Don’t patronize me. I am a grown man, I can take the truth. In fact, I tell you, I rather take the painful truth, than be treated this way. I don’t appreciate your condescending ways. And please don’t tell me craps like 'we don’t want to bother you’ or ‘we thought you were checking in the hospital’ cause it doesn’t work with me anymore.

Not cool.

Yes, some of my friends are really loveably annoying. They like to pretend they like me when sometimes they don’t or they are being nice to me just because they have to (Yes I do have that clinical complex to be liked by everyone). But please, I also know that I am not perfect either. I can be annoying sometimes too. So it’s sure nice if, once in a while, a friend would point out that imperfectness of mine to me. Just tell me the truth.

I promise I won’t bite.

A Love Letter To Myself

My days in the hospital were finally over, so today I slept in my own bed. I missed my bears. It is so good to be home without anyone poking my skin with needle every two hours or so. I can finally sleep peacefully, knowing that no one will ask me to ‘roll over’ in the middle of the night anymore.

Most of us wake up early on Saturday to jog, watch cartoons or whatever, but not me. The only reason I get out of bed at all on weekends is because eventually I can’t stand the taste of my breath any longer. Now I get to do exactly that for 5 days straight! Haha, not cool, but it feels so, so fine.

I am, however, having serious hard time getting used to the fact that in two days, I have to get out of bed every morning to go to work. Man, must it be this soon? Wow, I can only imagine what it’ll look like inside my in-tray in this exact moment. Hopefully, nothing that will make me crawls back to the hospital’s bed anytime soon. Finger crossed.

Okay, the first half of 2010 did not exactly get off to a great start, thanks to few little ‘bumps’ I stumbled along the way. This health scare situation was one of them. So now, I want a new start. A new beginning. Yes, I need new, fresh perspectives on life. My own life. To take control of it. And re-invent a little on how I live it from now on.

I’ve also been bad; ignored or hurt the feeling of some people that I care the most, and did few things I can say I am not particularly proud of, but I guess once you have the revelation, it will never too late to do something about it and make it right again, right?

So at home, in my quiet time, I have listed down all the things that I want to change in my life for the better, but no, don’t get too excited about it - nothing too drastic. I will start small, you know like confessing and admitting that ‘I have a problem’ for starter. See how it’ll go from here.

And for the love of God, I won’t reveal the list here because it’s pretty irrelevant, I mean to the public and it’s quite damning too. It’s not like something that I haven’t said before anyway, so no one misses anything, really. Only this time, I truly feel and understand the importance of making it happen. Or maybe I’ll just die trying.

I have a feeling, you will see the new me eventually - the stronger one, who’d take a great care of his health and enjoy his life more, for the sake of the people who love him dearly. I won’t be the old idiot who tends to harm and destruct himself foolishly - that’s not the person I want to be. I must not and will not. Because I don’t need that kind of stress in my life anymore.

Vertigo

For days now I’ve had this nagging headache. Not like any kind of headache. I am pretty sure this isn’t like migraine or the kind you feel when you just had a bad concussion. This one feels like the ground under my feet keeps moving with me anytime I make a sudden movement - just like the time when I strangled a stray cat in my kitchen or even when I bended down to pick the cat’s body on the floor. God, I think I have lost my body balance.

It was all started last Monday. I was having a fairly indescribable nightmare and literally jumped out of my bed at 3 in the morning. I remember I tried to walk to the toilet to wash my face but the next thing I know I was laying on the floor - spread-eagle. I swear, for a second I thought my flat was shaking to an earthquake! And then I realized nothing else was moving except for my limbs.

Still, on the next day, I went to work because, you know, I am a dedicated worker, plus I didn’t think it was a serious medical condition and I had an all-important training to attend to.

Sure, for two days after that, I was leaning on the wall most of the time, like an overweight lizard. I couldn't walk straight, so I went to see the doctor.

He listened to me for a few minutes and then he said ‘ahh..vertigo’. I tried to say something smart and asked, ‘you mean like the U2 song?’ He gave me the blank look. Almost a hiss. Suddenly I felt like a Zionis agent to him, so I shut my mouth. He then prescribed few funny-looking pills and asked me to take them all after every meal and to see him again in two days, if the problem persists.

It’s gotten worse on Friday. Not only the headache didn’t go away, I was developing rashes around my arms and my left foot was feeling numb too. I was like a ticking bomb, so I went to see the doctor again. He immediately wrote me a reference note to the specialist of my choice to further check the condition.

At the specialist, I was recommended to be warded so that they can run a few tests on me; cause according to the doctor, vertigo can caused by several reasons and one of them is hypertension. And the ironic thing was the wards were all full, due to sudden surge in ILI or women in labor, so they had to send me back until someone else checked out or *gulp*...died! Talk about unnecessary pressure!

As I write this today, I am still at home, resting my skull and waiting for the hospital to call me. It’s been more than 24 hours now, so I guess the wards still teeming with sick people but I am all good with that. Because you know what, I am scared of anything white, sterile-smelling room and women in labor…

The Pain Of Losing

I guess it has already been established I am not a sport fan – no, really, not unless you can count playing spider solitaire on my PC or thumbing the keypad on my cell phone as organized sports!

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against supporting or promoting healthy lifestyle, trust me, I am all for it. I am just not sure it’s mentally and emotionally healthy for me anymore.

Case in point; as I watched the train-wreck they called ‘Malaysian team’ playing for Thomas Cup tonight; I keep asking myself, “Why?

Yes, why? Why every time I get pumped up supporting our homegrown heroes in the name of nation’s glory, they let us down faster than we say ‘Malaysia Boleh!’ My head spins from sheer disappointment. And not to mention, losing my precious sweet baritone from yelling and cursing or both. Now I feel more depressed than ever. Good Lord, maybe I should play for the national team instead. Lose a few (!) kilos, get fit and damn, get a better coach.

Oh wait, that probably wouldn’t be my first time. You see, I did try to play badminton before. Seriously. I mean I tried to.

When I was 13 or something, my schools was having this school-level badminton tournament and I remember I foolishly signed up for it. As it turned out, it was a giant mistake for me. Malaysia was fresh off from winning the Thomas Cup back then and so I guess I was a little carried away like everybody else. I thought I got it. I had this stupid, misguided delusion that I can play and actually win this thing – courtesy of my mother!

Needless to day, I lost a humiliating and some-kind-of-world-record, 15-0, 15-0 straight set on the very first match. And adding insult to the injury, the infamous game lasted less than 20 minutes and as if, it wasn't bad enough, it was watched by the entire school! The match itself was an instant 'classic’ (this was before Youtube) and I was crowned the school’s biggest 'doofus’ and had been everyone’s butt of joke ever since - not exactly the ‘fame’ I was seeking, but legendary nonetheless.

For a few years after that, I had been begging my parent to send me away for therapy, rehab and even military school. I even tried to change my identity and convinced my parent to move to another town but to no avail. My mom would simply say, “Don’t get too hung up on yourself, in few days people will forget all about it!”

I know they would, but I don’t. Sometimes I wonder what it is about the sport that pains me the most and I say, ‘Oh yeah, the losing’. And I never quite recover from it.

Maybe I Was Just Jealous!

A high-flying friend gets extremely distress when a Longchamp Xlight bag he just bought less than a month ago got tattered a little. For most of us who are still living below the poverty line, me included, this won’t necessary call for the state emergency but considering how much the bag would have cost us, I say we might as well be!

So my friend went to send the bag to its local seller, hoping to get it fixed. Alas after a month of anxiously waiting, he was told, no repair service was provided and his demand for a new replacement of that ‘poor’ quality bag was also met with an icy shoulder. Understandably my friends got so really upset as if he was just losing his own child!

He has every right to be angry. It’s a RM850 bag for God’s sake. How anyone could not get that livid? Of course, if you’re in the list of Forbes 500 Richest People in the World, you probably wouldn't bat an eyelid - to which I say, “Call me!”

Needless to say, the Twitterland was exploded right away. He immediately launched a smear campaign against the brand, trying to throw the fashion world into chaos from Paris to New York by sending hate-tweets to Longchamp worldwide. Erm, wow, I have a strange feeling this is somehow gonna work and we might as well hear about it in the news soon. Anyway you hang in there, Herman. I believe sooner or later you’ll get what you deserve – a sweet revenge and a brand, new Longchamp bag!

I just can only afford to sympathize, re-tweet and offer you a hug.

Sure, every now and then, I, too, like to appreciate finer things in life, why not? Once in a while I like to treat myself with Nando's and Kenny Rodger’s. Sometimes I also buy a really expensive tiramisu cake from 5-star hotel and when I am down I like to splurge on several tubes of Hagen Daaz ice cream.

So okay, I prefer spending my money on food than anything else. I don’t see the point of spending so much dough on things I can’t digest. At least with food they don’t require polishing, servicing or going out of fashion before I do.

And I don’t care about luxury brands too. You may still see me with a grocery plastic bag in my hands and I will work and make it look good, well maybe a little less ‘green’ but still fashionably fabulous.

It isn’t often this dramatic for me but, I wish to contribute to the world in more direct and tangible ways - like joining refugee mission in Darfur or tour India’s slums in search of enlightenment. While I may not be emptying my wallet at Harrod’s or throwing money at the shopping strips in Dubai or Milan, I feel I still can contribute to the world economy. You know, like buying my toiletries at The Body Shop. Not only I can look pretty and smell nice, I can save a turtle too!

I must say I feel really good about it.

I Am A Man Who Doesn’t Like To Share

I bought two CDs over the weekend. One of them actually, I’ve already had. Still it feels like the best RM95.90 I ever parted with. Don’t know how quite to say this but lately I need some pick-me-ups so I picked up these two at the nearby music store:





Ha! I know what are you gonna say, but Whitney Houston is like the biggest Diva superstar, ever for me and I mean that. Ask any of my karaoke partner-in-crime and they would all say ‘Mus not singing Whitney is like Mus losing weight - Not gonna happen!’ Good thing I slay ‘Saving All My Love for You’ everytime, and by ‘slay’ I mean quite literally, so bless the Japanese for the karaoke invention!

Anyway ‘Whitney Houston’ is like the best CD, ever. Tops anything I ever owned including ‘The Best of Rahim Maarof’ and "No. 1s:Fauziah Latiff". They are a lot of classics in it like, 'Saving All My Love for You’, 'You Give Me Good Love’, 'How Will I Know’ and everyone’s perennial favorite 'Greatest Love of All’, which by the way comes with the live version. So very, very mesmerizing the vocal in this one, you should hear it to believe it. It's the definitive album every music lover should has in his/her collections.

Then there’s the DVD that comes with this special 25th anniversary edition that consists of live performances and interview from this original diva. Watch them and you’ll see why even a totally straight guy like me wept.

The other CD that I grabbed was Usher’s latest 'Raymond Vs Raymond'. My favorite Usher’s album is ‘Confessions’ but the follow-up, ‘Here I Stand’ erm, not so much. Yet I couldn’t help spending my hard earned money on his music. Maybe because I still have faith in this chocolate Casanova. He's got this incredible pulling power on me.

Usher always fascinates me with his sexy music, cool moves and all, but, ugh, the man simply refuses to put his shirt on. Not that I have anything morbid against it, but I think he is so full of himself. And yet as I say over and over again, I can’t seem to get enough of him. Frankly, his music is like my life soundtrack - the non-Broadway version ones, of course.

This time around, Usher decided to go back to those good old days that made him filthy rich. Eventhough almost all the songs here are like the carbon copy of ‘Confessions’, I somehow dig it. I particularly like ‘Hey Daddy (Daddy’s Home)’, 'Fooling Around and ‘Lil’ Freak’. So it kinda works for me. With shirt on or not.

Now if you think I am going to upload the music here so you can hear them for free. Forget It.

It’s RM95.90, dude. Suddenly it feels like a lot of money.

Eat My Shorts!

I notice people pay a special attention to what I wear everyday. No, this is not about me being a delusional Lady Gaga-is-copying-my-style ranting again. This is about people who tends to judge you and your values solely based on the clothes on your body. I am so sick of it. I know life is like that and people would hate your guts, say, if you look good in stripes and they don’t. Okay I get it. I just don’t get why it is matter to everyone if I go to heaven or not.

Last weekend I was chaperoning a group of secretaries to a nearby beach town resort for a course. Never did I expect a supposedly pleasant mix of working and short vacation would turn awry for me. They complained to my boss about my 'improper' behavior during the course. Say what?! I thought everything went well. I wouldn’t have in a million years thought that my personal choice of wardrobe throughout the 3-day program would have clashed with the first principle of Rukun Negara. The last time I checked, wearing shorts to a classroom (which happened to be close to a beach) didn’t make me any less Muslim!

I like my pants short. They are comfortable, airy and never pass judgment on my porky things. I don’t like the trapped, business-like feeling I always get with that normal, long pants. I like to feel young and vibrant and wearing one makes me feel sexy and damn, wanted. It's that a crime? I want to feel good about my body. About myself. And trust me, it takes a lot more of me to feel good about it, especially lately!

Okay, maybe it was an oversight from my part too to wear a couple of my garish-colored, slightly-over-the-knee shorts in front of these prude, 1st century Arabian queens in a few occasions; but as far as I know there were nothing vulgar or offensive about it. In fact I have always taken an extra precautions not to offend anybody - I comb and pluck any unwanted, misplaced hair on my legs all the time. I never forget to trim my toenails too. So any accusation that I am sick, gross exhibitionist cum serial sex offender is wholly unwarranted.

Plus I do seriously think I got hot legs! If you say it's alright for the girls to show their cleavage as long as they made them “presentable”, I should be allowed to show my totally ripped, toned and "presentable" legs too, don't I? (Thank God I was born a man!)

And in an almost totally irrelevant note, my friend's house just got broken into on the very same weekend. He’s not that rich, so not many valuable items were stolen. Still a few of his much-prized possesions including his Ipod had taken away by these goons (I hope you burn in hell!). He’s still shaken and in shock. You hang in there, man. Who knows there's maybe a good thing would come out from this calamity, O you know, like a bigger ipod = ipad?

I hope he doesn't lose his pants over it. No pun intended.

They Say They Need An Honest Answer

They say it’s important for me to answer this question with complete honesty in less than 500 words. So here goes nothing. …

What Would You Consider As Your Biggest Achievement And Why?

It would be near impossible for me to single out any of my past achievement as my biggest so far. Not that my life has been a long sad excuse of existence, I just thought of all the things I’ve achieved up to this moment they're all simply so, err, not that remarkable. You see, at 30 I’ve yet to win the Nobel Peace Prize or an Oscar, so to declare anything as the ‘biggest one yet’ is such a, well, bit phony for me.

But thinking about it now, there's maybe something else I’ve done that I am particularly proud. Not exactly ‘biggest’, but close. So I’ll just go out on a limb and say; getting my first degree has got to be my proudest achievement in life so far, next to completing this pathetic attempt of self-glorify write-up.

And here I tell you why it was such an amazing feat for me.

Because it was my first achievement that really matters. Honest to God, growing up in a small town, Segamat, I never thought I would go much further than my house driveway. I seriously thought I would end up working as an Assistant Supervisor at the local supermarket, or be a tired government official in our local municipal. So having given the opportunity to study abroad really opened the door for me. I was not only got a chance to travel half across the globe, I got to see the world from a different set of eyes too. I was exposed to so many different cultures and values; how was it felt to be a minority and a foreigner and how other people saw and treated us. It gave me a new perspective on things I didn’t usually understand and really did open my mind greatly and man, I am so glad for that.

Because it really makes my mom proud and that she would gladly take the credit for it. Now my mom has something to gag my annoying relatives anytime they brag about their bratty grandkids or about their son who just comes out of prison. She’d just polish my framed diploma in front of them and smirk. Give her a break, she’s entitled to that, I was the first and only son from my mom’s side that graduated with a degree. And has yet to be incarcerated.

I am not saying that whatever good things that I’ve achieved right after my graduation ceremony didn’t matter or not as important, Of course they do. It’s just I feel like anything great that had happened in my life so far has the beginning from that one single moment, one single accomplishment that even 10 years down the road later, I’d still look up and manage to shed a proud tear or two (Okay, I was being completely overdramatic). That is why it was such a big deal for me.

And of course, being able to recognize and list down every single success in your life, pick the biggest one yet and write a couple of paragraph explaining your choice; that’s, I believe, quite an achievement by itself. Not many people would and can do that, don’t you think?

I Am Your Worst Nightmare...Or Close!

One of the best decisions I ever made in life was signing up for that itemised billing option on my telephone bill. Yes, the best. One notch up from when I finally decided to get an air freshener for my car or when I stopped "experimenting" with my kitchen utensils. Of course, it's not without a cost, especially that self-banned cooking, but that's alright. Someday, I'd thank my old self when the day I invariably lose my cool comes.

Unfortunately, that day came yesterday.

It appeared in my current telephone bill statement that I had 'supposedly' topped up a total RM50 credit to a certain stranger who lives 300km away from me. I was in total shock. I paid RM50 to someone I never knew and never got to meet and slap him in the face? This is so unfair.

Immediately I called the customer service in hope to sort out this obviously an outrageous misunderstanding. There is no way I am gonna pay a single cent for this work of petty criminal. I worked so hard to throw away my hard-earned money just like that.

Finally, after waiting for seemingly 3 days, someone finally decided to pick up my call and I rattled through pass the verification in seconds. I could barely hear myself well after that, cause you know, I was busy yelling the issues all the way. Don't blame me. My phone had a connection problem.

And in his fake smiling voice, the CS officer suggested me to call up the number in question to re-confirm that I didn't know this loser, you know, just to make sure.

Okay, fair enough. I did just that. And what do you know, as predicted this loser never answered my call. "Fine. Have it your way. Someone in Maxis centre will receive the heat for you then".

Sure, the whole hour on the phone with Maxis after that wasn't pretty.

"Sir, these are valid charges. It recorded from your line. Probably someone took your phone and did the transaction themselves without your consent."

"Oh yeah, you mean like I hired a hooker and she did the transaction herself while I was in a shower?!"

Of course I was annoyed being excused as an immoral and irresponsible imbecile like that. Like it was all my fault and they has nothing to do with it. They judged me and I simply loathe that.

"We can not do anything about these charges, sir. It's in our policy. And it's in my policy too not to pay for you or any of our customer for supposedly wrong charges everytime. I had three young kids at home and my pay here isn't that much. But you know what, if it makes you feel any better. I will block all the future top up service and transaction for you, how about that?"

'If it makes you feel any better'. That smug!

There were so many things that annoyed the hell out of me for the last couple of days, but this has got to be the chief of them all. With that RM50, I can get a year supply of air fresheners for my car or even better, I can pay someone else to stop me from coming to my own kitchen!

Damn, now after spending hours on the phone and yelling, my mood was completely ruined. Luckily Hasmiron invited me for a little gathering in the evening at his home and thus, I had to wipe out that fouled attitude I gave to that Maxis officer ASAP and stopped myself short for being a party pooper.

Yes, a party. That was exactly what I needed. Thanks Miron for that great get-together with friends. You made my day less, erm, suck. Yeay.

And I thought the drama would've ended there. Nooo. Guess who texted me after that?

"Saper ni?"

That damn Loser. What nerve!

BIG MISTAKE.

The Love Of My Life

I called my mom the other night. It's a customary thing I do since I left home many, many years ago - to call her every two nights, in place of me coming back every single weekend! It's a deal we've come to agree on and of course being a good son, I never want to make her worry a bit about me. She said, hearing my voice, really did lower her blood pressure and boy, does she worry over anything!

We talked about a lot of things and she isn't half-bad a conversationalist too. She can talk about anything. Trust me, she really can. There's no boundaries on things we can talk about. In fact, last night we were talking about Benjy's drug charges, the late Din Beramboi, our AI's favourite contestants and even Jesse James and Sandra Bullock's marital problems, which I found it really, really astonishing.

But mostly, she was more interested to know about me. How was I doing? What I had for dinner? What I was wearing to work? Whether there was any bodily functions irregularities spotted and stuff. And in return, she updated me with the going-ons at home. She talked on and on, about what she had for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks, as she always does. I only wanted to know if she's taken her meds, but listening to her perky tone, I knew she was doing alright.

I never complain about this arrangement, it's totally chill with me, but lately, our conversations always ended up with a new add-on inquiry that would make my skin crawl and my hairy earlobes melt.

"Bila along nak kahwin?"

I used to dodge the question by faking the repeated "hello" as if the line was breaking up. But after awhile she caught wise and now she knows better. So this time I said, I won't get married until everyone gets equal basic right to marry whomever they love. KIDDING! For the record, I did not say that. All I was saying was, 'I am soo totally horny right now I could marry RuPaul'. OK, kidding again!

Anyway, not wanting to worry her with my way-past-expiry-date bachelor status stamped on all over my forehead, I simply told her, in fact I was courting someone right now, that I promised to introduce to her very,very soon. (Note that I used and stressed the word "soon" instead an actual date, pretty sneaky huh?)

And then she asked, 'What's she like'?

U-oh!

Calmly,I told her,

She's beautiful, down-to-earth millionaire, dark hair with fair skin, married once with 6 children which three of them were adopted. She's big on charity and humanitarian works and loves to travel all around the world to spread goodwill and joy to those most unfortunates. And Oh by the way, she won an Oscar in 2000.

Oh my, did I just describe Angeline Jolie? Man, I pray she'll never find out.

Vampire On Valium

It's 3.00 in the morning and I can't sleep. I had an incredibly vivid dream. I don't exactly remember what it was about but I am sure as hell it involved Mariah Carey, a pony and me causing a twenty-two-car pileup on the PLUS highway. OK maybe not that “vivid” like scene-by-scene replay, but I swear I can still smell Mariah and blood in my hands.

I woke up soaked in cold sweat.

As I am writing this on my Brazillian Oak table in my RM900++ hotel suite; I wonder, “Was the dream – though in subtlety - trying to tell me something completely mental?" – like maybe Mariah would divorce her child-fish husband, Nick Canon and marry me, the devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful vampire? But then, what was it about me causing the bloody pileup on the highway? And what it has anything to do with her at all? And since when I am a vampire!? Man, interpreting dream is such a confusing business. Pah!

Or maybe I was just a bundle of nerves and that caused an incoherent, plotless nighmare like that. Oh that's right! Of course I am kinda nervous right now.

I am actually organizing a leadership program for our management team in this exotic out-of-town resort. We invited consultants/speakers from Australia and it costs the Bank a bomb. I have been here since Friday and tomorrow is the last day - the evaluation day. Gosh, what might the participants say about the program? Would they find the program beneficial to them? Would they even like it? It's pretty nerve-wreaking for me.

Just this afternoon, my boss came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder; I almost vaulted to the ceiling. “Wow, I guess you're a little jumpy, huh?” she laughed. She didn't know the half of it.

Oh God!, I just heard a noise. I hope it's not a serial killer. Ever since I saw that "No Country For Old Men" on HBO, I am paranoid about serial killers. Any of the staff here could be one. Especially that crazy cleaning lady who always makes up my room. I just look at her and she creeps me out. She looks like she would eat a baby. Not that she's fat. She just looks hungry in some dangerous way that can't be explained. She's always so nice and friendly. Exactly the disposition of a baby killer.

Great, now I need a Valium.

Questions!

It’s official: This was the longest, mind-draining, soul-crushing, back-breaking, totally-overstuffed-and-unnecessary, train wreck they called it “training program” in the whole wide world or at least I ever attended.

How could it not? It was running 14 hours a day for two weeks non-consecutively including weekends in two venues that I swear would make any WW II concentration camp general panting in excitement. It was grand but completely overreaching.

And the torture chambers, or should I call it, classes; they were all long and super boring, kinda like watching the weekly AF concert on rerun. One really needs to have mechanical eyelids controlled by robotic arms just to keep them opened - it’s a cure to the insomniac!

But I managed to “appear” interested throughout the class (good acting skills didn’t hurt!) because I had a plan that worked – I asked a lot of questions. Not that I really needed to know what “quick ratio”, and “Basel II” were, mind you, but snoring loudly in the full view of others wasn’t really the other option. So I shook the foundation of the trainer’s confident and rocked the desk (literally!) all the same time.

I guess I may have disrupted the class a little bit too much to a point, without me realizing it, I’ve became the poster boy of kiss-a** nuisance. I wasn’t aware I was that annoying until I received this from one of the fellow inmates, ahem, I mean, participants.

I folded the note back and passed it to the next person with a wink. And then I made my thank-you note to the sender.

If I don’t ask questions and keep myself awake, my mind would wander and think about:

a) Sleep
b) Food
c) That Glee episode that I missed for this hogwash.
d) The trainer’s hairy earlobes.
e) YOU!

…..a lots.

And I thought that would’ve silenced the sender but no, before long, I heard a loud burst of laughter at the back of the class.

"Yes you, you have any question?,” the trainer looked directly to the source of the commotion with slight annoyance.

Without looking back, I heard the voice muffled a chuckle;

"I am sorry. No. I do not have any question.”

So did I.

The Pancake Killer II

I am so bumped. Nothing was working out for me lately. First my favorite American Idol contestant was booted out, and then, I ran over someone's cat, and now this? Maybe it’s that karma thing or maybe I was just being overdramatic silly, but I do feel like a first-class loser.

Let me tell you something, I am a man with a simple dream. I don’t ask much out of this life. In fact I am pretty much content with whatever God has given me – zits, cellulite and all. But when my second time attempts in preparing an instant pancake for human consumption failed miserably (twice!), I took the whole sad episode to the heart and really *sniffle* cried. Of course I was devastated.

It’s hopeless. I can’t even feed myself without risking a major health disaster. I can’t even make that damn pancake fluff! Without a can opener and God forbid, ‘How To’ steps at the back of the box, I tell you, I’ll sure be dead.

I was about to give up the whole AFC chef host dream altogether, when I bumped into a friend at the supermarket and we got to talking, you know, just catch-up stuff. I mentioned about the pancake debacle for some reason, I forget why. And before long, she agreed to help me with my non-existent kitchen skills and she even promised to share with me some of her cooking-for-dummies recipe. At first I thought ‘Isn’t that a hoot?’.

"Anyway, why sudden interest in cooking and baking? Isn’t it a little too…effeminate even for you?”

Great, now out of nothing, she attacked me with the only thing I am prided myself on: my polished, chromosomally-damaged, testosterone-pumping masculinity.

"No reason, I just like the idea of preparing something decent for you whenever you might come visiting”. I gritted my teeth to dust.

...So I can poison-feed you with my killer instant pancake! You, sexist, fake, snooty bitch!!

Speaking about bitch-ing, remember last week I ranted about how I didn’t care about people knew a bit about my past, about my former school - Sains Muar and former friends?

And now it’s in the news.

A couple days go, my former school was in the news. I freaking do not believe it. I mean, can’t say I was particularly surprise, it’s always been a good school. After all, it produced me! Erk! Anyway, it’s just that I never expected to see it still performs so well after all these years.

Quite honestly, I used to really hate the school very very much. I hated the students, I hated the teachers, I hated everything in it or associated with it. I’ve always felt like out of place. I never felt happy or belonged to that school. Two years was a real torture. I remember I only agreed to stay, just to please my parent and more importantly to be out of that sleepy hollow they called it Segamat.

But it doesn’t really matter now. Looking back, I realized I got as many good memories too. I’ve met many great friends, friends like Hasmiron, Zetty and erm, few others. I guess I just suppress many of the good ones because the bad ones are more prominent. So it’s easy to associate all the memories – good and bad - with all pains.

Maybe I don’t say this often enough, but I am proud to be part of the school's legacy. I really am. I just need a little reminder like this, every year when the SPM results come out. Heck, should the school come up top again next year, I might even consider coming for the reunion, who knows, snort, I’d even bake and bring a cake or two! Noo...