Descending Angels

Last week, I took a chance with my friends, and let myself to be whisked away for a short weekend getaway in a tropical island off the coast of northern part of Malaysian peninsula – Langkawi a.k.a the “other” jewel island of the north.

Unlike the rest of my travelling buddies (and as shocking as this might sound) I’ve had never been to Langkawi before. This was my first. Yeay. Of course, I was super excited.

Sham, AJ and Eijam had planned for this little trip for months I think and me and Miron only decided to join the group in the very last minute – ah you know, because we care about our friends and we don’t have the heart to see them going with just 3 people. Ahaks!

And to prove I was as committed as everyone else in this trip, I let Eijam bought all of us the bus tickets on Friday at 11.00pm. O Yeah, you heard it right. We took the bus, babeh! All 10 hours of them!

After toiling and risking possible blood clots in our inner things, we finally arrived at Kuala Perlis Jetty, 8.30 in the next morning. Not a minute to waste, we dashed to the jetty counter and managed to get ourselves the first ferry out to Langkawi at 9.30am. Talk about perfect timing.

Langkawi only took around 45 minutes by ferry and that means we still had plenty of time before we can check in at our luxurious stay at Sri Kijang Resort, in Pantai Chenang. So where did we end up before then? Ha! We went for shopping at all these duty free shops along the stretch of Chenang beach road. Nature sightseeing can wait, we want bargain!

We then went to check in, freshen up and along the way making up plans for the rest of the afternoon – which unfortunately limited to, eventually hanging out at the Loft Café at Perdana Quay (which I was told owned by Tun Dr. Mahathir). It was raining so heavily we stuck at the café for hours. Anyway the pastries were super delicious. Way to go, Tun!

The next day things were looking up for us – weather wise. So we jumped at the opportunity to try out the famous Langkawi Cable Car. Definitely not for the faint hearted, the whole cable stretches up to 700 meters from the sea level. A-mazing. It was soo far high, I swear I could see all the way to Thailand and probably even Japan. Erm, or so I think. Anyway, it was worth all the trouble (hiking up the torturous terrain) and the price ticket. Simply breathtaking.

Oh I forgot to mention, we also stopped by at the Tanjung Rhu on the way to the cable. The beach was sandy white and clean. And the view… wow. Just wow. I took a lot of photos while being there that I believe I just brought the meaning of the word ‘camwhoring’ to a whole new level.

Actually, we were also supposed to do the island hopping in the next day, our last day on the island, alas, something happened and didn’t work out the way we planned so we grabbed the map and just point endlessly on it until it stops somewhere and voila, look what we had found here.

This is Temurun Waterfalls. We never expected it to be this beautiful. I mean just like I said, we ‘discovered’ it by chance but OMG, look at this picture. It’s like a postcard from paradise. Luckily not many people were around that day, so we had to whole place to ourselves. And pretended we were the descending angels. *cough*

Eijam, AJ and Sham wanted to stay for another day, so I let them be, while me and miron took the evening flight home that day. Our flight to KLIA was on 5.35pm. It was a comfortable way home, but my heart and amazing memories with my dear friends stayed there and it was very, dare I say it, unsettling.

Save a Life And Be a Winner

Have you ever seen a movie in which the main actor was soaking wet with his own sweat trying to doodle a clue to the FBI - 10 seconds before the bad guys blow off the place? If the hero was me, the FBI would have been better learned to mengucap, cause the place WILL (and I tell you in utter confidence) be blown off in 10 seconds. Forget the innocent lives; I can’t draw a line to even save my own life.

I would be happily blamed this “artsy deficiency” to both of my parents. Ask them about Picasso or Latiff Mohidin, and they’ll probably tell you it’s the name of one of their detergents or minyak gamat brands. I was ready to hold up my hands and accuse them for harbouring bad DNA on our siblings, but then my little brother came along. And boy is he like the best painter/graphic designer/animator I know. I mean, he is so creative and full of ideas, he makes my self portrait drawing looks like J.Lo’s butt print.

Last Friday, I was driving my brother to MDEC Hari Raya Open House in Cyberview Lodge Cyberjaya. It was also the day where the winners of Digital Interactive Comic Competition, organized by MDEC will be announced. You see, my brother had submitted his entry 2 months back, and I think he only got a call last two weeks saying he had been shortlisted as one of the finalists. It was not really a shocker, because, you know, like I said, he got a way with the brushes and those tiny magic pens, but to be among the best in the country, whoa, that really blew my mind.

Alas, he didn’t win. I really wanted him to win though. But it’s ok, I am still proud him. And that makes him already a winner to me.

I know I said I couldn’t draw a line the save my own life, but I think, with my brother around, he can take care of that for me.

My Manny

My Manny was sick last week, so I had to send him away for one week to be treated by the professionals. It was really hard for me, but they told me, it’s for the better, so he can heal faster without me poking him around here and there. So I relented.

And I tell you that was the loneliest, most painful 7 days of my life. I missed him so badly. My nights were cold, without him purring his warm, motor-y breath to my cheeks.

But finally, he came back yesterday - looked healthier than ever! I was overjoyed.

Oh Manny Degaldo, my loovah!

Muah! Muah! Muah!**Hugs**

*cue music from Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You*

And leave us alone, will ya?

Reena Got Fresh Kidneys!

I met Herman over lunch the other day. Actually it has been a while since the last time we hang out together. So we planned carefully around my busy, busy schedule and agreed to meet at The Apartment, KLCC. Not wanting to make it sounded a little bit too much like a date and drew an unnecessary attention to us; we invited Reena to join us as well.

In a perfectly normal setting, friends, who you only meet once in every 6 months, would most likely to notice or remark on things they can see now that they didn’t see before - like how the friend has lost major weight by losing a limb, or swollen boobs due to botched sex reassignment surgery, but with Herman, you tend to notice 'other' things too, right inside his pants.

He bought the new Blackberry.

Oh my. Every time that we meet, he’ll be either showing me his newly bought phone or seriously contemplating about buying a new one. It’s like he’s the Steve Job of our Telco industry, the whole market shall collapse should, God forbid, he’s down with a cold and can’t go out and place another booking for the new model. He buys new gadget, like some people buy a carton of milk. In cash.

I am raging inside with jealousy.

I probably wouldn’t mind trading in one of my kidneys for one of those IPads, IPhone or Blackberrys, but I can’t afford to have a scar on my highly insured body right now. It’s too costly. I, too, have been thinking a lot about plotting my friend’s ‘disappearance’ but nah, that would be too fleshy, ops, I mean, messy, you know, with blood and everything.

So Herman, one of these days, should you are not happy with me and lapse into one of your major hissy fits, Naomi-style, please aim your new phone my way. I’ll gladly take it.

Wait, did I mention Reena was with us as well? Maybe she got a pair of fresh kidneys too!

Smoke Gets In My Eyes

I got a cake today. Not like any other cake. This one called ‘White Dark Chocolate Cheese ’ from Secret Recipe. It’s for my birthday, Oh scratch that, anniversary. Yeap, today is my anniversary. This time, I didn’t get the cake myself. My sister bought it for me, so it was extra special – because it’s less, erm well, pathetic.

Anyway, at my request, the so-called “anniversary party” was supposed to be a laid back do, a little family get together with a promised of an all-around grown-ups atmosphere - that means, no surprises, no lame-ass clown (please no!) and I crossed the line on confetti cannon display (sorry ma).

But they were a few little details in the *cough* *cough* 30 years tradition that I insisted of having this time around; such as, me blowing a single candle or two, people singing customary happy birthday song and lots of balloons in the shapes of my favourite animals.

And Oh gift. Yesss, gifts - lots of them.

All my siblings, nephews and both of my parents were all presence, so it was all good, just like what I imagined the good, perfect 30^th anniversary party should be.

Bliss. Tsk, my dear God, I think something gets into my eyes,

Dang.

“Aiyo, you mesti olang manyak semayang punya, manyak ong maa. Kelete you pun ada heng"

I was driving ‘round town with my mother and two of my siblings when we decided to stop at AEON Jusco Tebrau City Mall for lunch. As you are probably aware, my mom, who has suffered a stroke a few years back, requires a wheelchair whenever she needs to move around a humongous mall like this - which by the way here in JB, you can find them almost everywhere.

So while my little brother made a quick dash to the information counter to loan one of those wheels, me and mom, combed the whole blocks around the mall looking for a parking space for our, ehem, ‘sprawling’ ride. And after seemingly like a lifetime or two, we finally managed to snag the best spot not too far from the main entrance. Yes!

Unfortunately, even after half an hour, my brother still couldn’t get hold of that chair. They were all out. I guess today is old-folks-home-denizen-visiting-mall day or something. Damn. So we decided to just wait in the car for the next available wheelchair.

In the car, to kill time, I turned up the air conditioning to the max and was having a really good chat with my mom - as should all good sons do. We were completely engrossed with our little conversation - which regrettably only revolve around the topics of ‘marriage’ and ‘having kids’ (Damn those old people who ‘stole’ our wheelchairs!) - when from the corner of my eyes, I noticed another vehicle, an MPV was trying, rather wobbly, to squeeze in a tiny space just in front of us. Unable to ignore, I also noticed there was a very tall lamp post in between our car and that MPV.

It didn’t take a few seconds later when I heard a loud thud followed by a gradual shrieking sound.

OH. MY. GOD. The back of that stupid MPV really did hit the base of the lamp post hard and now it gave away. To my horror, it went straight to our direction!

My mom, who I suspected has been exercising her lungs for a momentous occasion like this, screamed her heart’s content, which only added an eerily appropriate background track to this already intense situation.

I was stumped. So many questions were coursing through my mind.

My car!!! My imported, SPRAWLING car!!

Fortunately, the pole missed our car and collapsed just an inch away. An inch. I tell you, should a mere gust of wind blew through its teeth to our direction, we could all well be on the headlines the next morning. That how close it was. Like a wind, I jumped out of my seat and went around straight on the other side - looking for a reason to strangle the moron who almost caused hurt and trauma to my car.

It turned out my baby was fine. No scratches. And Oh, so was my mom.

People were beginning to gather around our spot - thanks to my mom’s un-restrained wails and only then, the main culprit emerged from the vehicle. It was a Chinese couple, who inexplicably looked completely calm and collected. I mean, wtf!

I, too, was not going to go down with that and act like some uncivilized prick, so tried as I might to appear unruffled – with the right dose of stoical and authority - but just as stern. I guess that worked like a charm (or probably due to my ‘intimidating’ size). Slowly they were dropping the act and trying to be chummy with me instead.

“Aiyo, apa sudah jadi?”

‘You tell me, idiot’.

“Ini lampu, bahaya la, tak boleh ada sini”

‘O get real, stupid’.

They did however ask me how I was doing and offer to assist in any way.

I said no. “We are fine”.

“Aiyo, you mesti olang manyak semayang punya, manyak ong maa. Kelete you pun ada heng, sikit aja lagi mau kena”.

The nerve.

I’m Sorry I Was Being A Jerk To You And Chose Not To Remember It

It’s that time of the year again. Yeah. It’s that time where forgiveness is sought and the new beginning is cherished. I am humbled and truly blessed to be able to celebrate Hari Raya with my family and the loved ones for yet another year. Times like these are rare – just like the time where I decided to let loose a friend over something I don’t even remember anymore.

I don’t usually discuss this little particular “pickle” of my life in the public domain, in fact I never did. I thought it was easier to completely forget the whole mess and moved on with life. I was wrong. I learned I could never run from anger and hatred. I need to have a certain kind of closure. Forgiveness can heal the pain, so they say. But as it turned out, it is much easier said than done. I know I’ve tried.

I am not perfect myself, so why is it hard for me to forgive a friend, who, in all of fairness, is probably clueless how the things he did to me has made me feel anyway?

I am not vindictive person, in fact far from it. People would steal my lunch in the morning and I am probably ready to make up in the evening. It’s just the way I am. I just need to know they know what they did me wrong and I’ll be fine. Is it too much to ask? I don’t need no apology. It’s just a strings of words put together. I want realization. And if they don’t even care to find out why I act the way I act then that really pisses me off.

But the last few days has, if anything, taught me, is that; not everything is about how I feel or what I want anymore. Not everyone subscribes to your point of view and agrees with you on anything. When it’s not worth to fight or waste your energy over something that don’t matter at all, it’s best to just forgive and forget.

Forgiveness is also about to let go your ego and be the bigger man. And if that means to be the first one to say sorry and offer the olive branch, so be it. Let that first person be me. I love my life too much to let my anger and hatred dictate my life. I don’t want to be that person anymore.

This time I mean it.

So to anyone who has ever been hurt by the way I acted or by the things I said during all the times we have the pleasure of spending together, I am sincerely sorry. I may not remember all those hurtful things I did, intentionally or not, to you, but my apology covers them all.

Or more accurately, I am sorry if I ever was being a jerk to you and I chose not to remember it.

Selamat Hari Raya. Maaf Zahir Dan Batin.

Note: This post is especially dedicated to my closest of buddies, Hasmiron, Eijam, Sham, AJ and Shah, who has just made me realise, I am no more important than the person sitting next to us. You know what I mean.

Mawar Terpinggir

I invited few of my close friends to my ‘manor’ for berbuka puasa last Saturday night. Oh nothing fancy. Just a small group of people getting together over pruned dates and a bunch of unfortunate, tasteless-splat-they-called-food I got from the nearby Baazar Ramadan. Demmit.

So no, don’t ask about the menu spreads. It’s modest at best. Pause. Okay, here the awful truth; when you caught your guests having a BIG dinner right after they left your house, you should take the big hint. Ouch.

(Hmmmph, but at least I can take comfort knowing all my guests had been treated with such an ‘ahhmazing’ view from my roman balcony. That's right, when it comes to ambience and cosiness, my pad is second to none. Haha.)

Anyway, an opportunity to get together like this is rare - like finding an albino big foot in the wild. So I made it clear from the beginning - no other/personal invitations were welcomed. Close friends only. I wanted it to be an intimate affair - and I am glad to report everyone managed to do just that, obediently, err, well, ‘almost’ everyone anyway (Side eyes to Hasmiron).

After berbuka puasa together, we hang out and chatted some more until the wee hours of the morning, which served us quite alright since we all did agree to continue ‘catching up’ until bersahur time. We talked about so many things, from topics as serious as our current local political situations (blergh!) to the most inconsequential things imaginable like how the cap of Clorox bottle can ruin your fabrics (which was really, in fact a fascinating story). Bliss.

Anyhow, somehow, somewhere in the heat of the conversation my friends suddenly dropped a bombshell onto my laps - They actually have been hiding a secret from me. Oh no!

I don’t know what may have triggered the subject to this point, but I can’t help to wonder? Why now? Or maybe that was just the caffeine talking? But they finally decided to come forward and be honest to me about something. Something they said, they have been keeping from me for months or maybe close a year (OMG, this is so a la Desperate Housewives). The confession that made me goes, ‘Ah, that’s why’.

Just as exciting as this sound, you know, to feel like I was in the Wisteria Lane or something, the truth really stung me a little bit. I can't lie.

But, you know what, I learned to move on from here. It’s Ramadan after all. It’s water under the bridge. So it’s all good.

If anything, it was really an eye opener for me. I mean, who knows, something we say in jest one day can really hurt someone so bad, like forever, and the worst part, most of the time we don’t even really know it. Sigh.

I mean who would have really thought, a decent meal together with friends can lead to this soap opera worthy drama.

And Oh just to be clear, despite whatever just happened, I am not angry, I just wish I'd pick something else for our main entrée that night.

Scream!

This is so terrible, it took a few days to register in my brain. It's like when you are dreaming and you are so afraid that you scream but the situation is so awful that the scream can't be heard.

That is what this movie is like. I am screaming profanity!

The Best Medicine

One of my favourite shows on TV this moment has got to be Modern Family. I know it has been around for a while now but I am becoming more and more obsessed with it.

The show has all the makings of a great TV comedy series but what’s more important too is that, it also has all the essential ingredients of MY favourite TV pastimes – it’s witty, with great writing, brilliant cast and so SOO damn, f***ing funny. Never mind a couple of its main characters probably wouldn’t see the light of days in our primetime TV slot, or on our streets for that matter, but the dialogues are so smart, they usually left me rolling on the floor – literally.

The half-hour series is largely presented in a mockumentary style. It follows the families of Jay Pritchett, his daughter, Claire Dunphy and his gay son Mitchell Pritchett.

And how is this family exactly called ‘modern’ you may ask?

Well – take a long, deep breath - Claire is married to Phil Dunphy (my favourite of all) with their three children, Haley, Alex and Luke, while Mitchell and his partner, Cameron Tucker have a Vietnamese baby daughter, Lily. Jay, himself, is married to a young hot Colombian woman, Gloria Pritchett with a son from previous marriage, named Manny Delgado.

Now with all these diabolically (but extremely lovable) twisted nuts around, of course the chaos ensures.

It never ceases to amaze me, how the writers can come out with such brilliantly hilarious dialogues for every single episode. Add that to a bunch of genius comedians like them, the show is really a laugh-a-riot. No wonder it managed to snag the highest accolades on American TV - Best Comedy Series last year at the Emmys for their first season (sorry Gleeks!). And I wouldn't be surprised at all if they will again repeat their successful run at this year’s awards season. The show is simply unstoppable. (Sorry again, Gleeks!)

For all the great things that are going on for it, which I probably won’t be able to stop gushing, it’s unfathomable why it receives a rather lukewarm response here in our local TV scene. Well, for starter, if you are subscribing to Astro’s variety package, you can only catch it on Fox (Channel 702), at ungodly hour, 10.30pm on Sunday night. I mean, to be fair, my guess it's possibly due to its so-called ‘risqué’ theme, which I must admit, it should’ve been expected. Boo!

Anyway, since I’ve committed myself to ‘other equally important things’ on Sunday nights and until I got myself an Astro Beyond decoder, I have to look to other options (legal or not) to get hold of every episode. Now what a dude, with black market connections got to do to satisfy his TV’s fix? Well, He went and bought pirated ones from one of his ‘friends’. Ha!

(And Oh! Just for your info, the original DVD isn’t out yet from Speedy Videos network, I know that, cause I have been harassing that poor sales clerk lady from Speedy Videos, everyday)

I have also been streaming and downloading every episode online, but my internet bills had gone out of the roof. So now, I make a completely use of my new office's wifi coverage for my illegal activities. Thanks to my diligence and steel perseverance I now got the entire episodes on season 1 and some from season 2 in my laptop. Hooray!

I know this is unhealthy, in a freaky sort of ways, but for something can make me laugh so hard, how can it be so bad?

End Of The World As We Know It!

Oh good gravy.

James Durbin is gone. Finally.

Now who do I want to see get booted next? Oh please - everybody, say it with me! - Haley!

Since the beginning of the show, these two contestants really grate on my freaking nerves. So looking one of them go is like laser-beaming a half of a kidney stone the size of tennis ball.

But my friend warned me, “Don't write Haley out," he said, "When the earth is destroyed, I am convinced that cockroaches and Haley will survive. She seems to have a quality and ability to rise from the ashes."

NOOOOO……..

(Sound of gunshot, crows caw as they fly away, gray world spins on. loud thump, silence. Then, wind chimes.)

Oh man! I want to be like that. I mean, I want to be like her. I can’t sing but I sure can survive the post-apocalyptic world. Oh come on, just look at my bedroom now. Serious.

Stupid, Angry Me

This is it. I had it. I am soo over American Idol right now. When American Idol started this year, I was wondering who would fill the void Taylor Hicks left 5 years ago as the only real winner - I am sad to say it looks like it’s not going to happen this year.

It seems like that this year, that shrieking jackal James Durbin (Urgh!) is gonna take the crown.

I don't really need to go into all the reasons why James makes me want to shove my ears with a pencil. Just watch him perform Bon Jovi’s ‘I’ll be there for you’ and everything will become clear to you. You'll wish you could stab your ears with a pencil too.

James isn't a bad singer, it's just everything else! When he does that signature wail, garage doors go flying, cars combust and dogs run into traffic. The b*****d sounds like a hyena on helium getting shot.

It's like his scream is taunting me to punch him in the mouth.

That said, I hate him so much that I think I love him. When he debuts his post-Idol album that no one buys, it will be bittersweet for me. I mean, who else will make me write this stupid angry outburst on my blog using the blood from my bleeding ears?

So Long, Suckers!

Recently, I watched a really great movie on HBO. I think it’s called ‘Chaos Theory’ or something – starring Ryan Reynolds, Stuart Townsend and Emily Mortimer and some other unknown actors.

Okay, I know the cast were all suspiciously good looking but I can assure you that’s not the whole point I am trying to make here (though I probably wouldn’t mind to elaborate on that with you in private *wink*)

Anyhoo, the movie was about a time-management specialist cum professor and extremely organised man whose life turned upside down when one day he accidently broke up his iron-tight routine. And what happened next was just a series of stunning and hilarious revelation about his own life.

I must say, though the movie has its funny moments - in parts, but it’s more of a drama type about how our hero, Frank finding out that meticulous planning and efficiency does not make him any happier or sane. This realisation and complete personal change is engagingly portrayed throughout the film. Frank's situation connects to the viewers, and easily evokes much sympathy - especially when that particular viewer is also kinda, ehem, constantly undergoing “personal change” himself.

Oh yeah, no matter how hard I try to be less narcissistic sometimes, at the end, I still manage to make even this pathetic attempt on so-called movie review all about me, don’t I? Ha!

Anyway, like I told you, I have tendered my resignation and last Friday was my last day. I left the place where I’ve been busted my ass for the past 4 years and I finally am moving on. No drama, just, well, move on. I loved the place - just it wasn’t as much fun as it was before. Tsk! Tsk!

So, what is more important in life? Is it loyalty? Own personal growth? Or free parking slot?

You know what, that’s the very same question that haunts me constantly. And the movie best summed up how I felt in recent months – uncertain and confused. But as Jack says in the movie, ‘when the chips are down, no matter how far ahead or meticulous we may have planned out our life for, we would still bound for little surprises along the way, so stop fretting,!' I guess, I wouldn’t know what the best life has to offer if I never even try to wonder, wouldn’t it?

And Oh, and just to celebrate my latest ‘personal change’, I got myself a new skin (blog skin, silly!) to symbolise the fresh start, the new beginning, the new era. I feel the need to start with a clean slate.

Cool innit?

Edward Cullen Eats Frozen, Dead Chicken!

When I eventually left home to start working right after my graduation some 10 years ago, it seemed like a natural progression – young adults shifting from one environment to the next. I felt like I could take over the world. While my departures had been relatively painless, my parents thought it was like releasing a domestic animal into the wild. They never worried I couldn’t find a job and make a decent living. Or being lured to the ‘dark side’ – to become mat rempit or prostitute myself for a packet of weeds. They worried because they thought I would starve myself to death.

That’s riiiight.

Don’t get me wrong. I know how to plan a meal or boil egg at the minimum, but I displayed a remarkable lack of patience when it came time for the actual cooking. Frozen dinners were often eaten exactly as sold and I eat ‘fresh’ fish balls and fish cake like they are a bag of potato chips.

I long for the time we can pop in a tiny blue capsule in some futuristic-looking the microwave oven, wait for a minute and voila, a 3 course French style dinner meal is ready on the table for us to gobble. Yum!

Anyway, last Friday, I thought I wanted to do something special for the weekend and decided I wanted to cook – forgetting that another option is to simply eat out! I went to Tesco and bought myself a healthy, giant close-to-a-kilo chicken and stuffed it in my freezer, hoping that I’ll be able to tenderize it later for Saturday night dinner.

Always the Mr. I-Never-Forget-Things, I forgot to defrost the chicken and it has turned to nothing but a solid, crystallized meat. I spent my whole Saturday afternoon yesterday, stomping the solid mass into three 6-inch portions, which I’d stack in a pile and force them into the oven.

After all that work, the chicken had been spoiled. It tasted like roadkill, so I threw it away and called it a night.

A few hours later, having decided that spoiled chicken was better than no chicken at all, I got out of bed, rolled out in my underpants, and proceeded to eat the leftovers directly from the trash can. At 3 in the morning!

OMG! I think my skin was sparking too!

A Crazy Friend

A Crazy Friend: Why are you so secretive about your new job?

Me: I am not.

A Crazy Friend: How much do you make over there?

Me: …..

A Crazy Friend: See?

Me: How much do you make now?

A Crazy Friend: My salary is RM5, 800. My side income as a secret agent averages RM2, 000 – RM3, 000 every month. Your turn.

Me: …

A Crazy Friend: This is so typical of you. You know, last night, I was watching Oprah and she was interviewing Matthew McConaughey . She said, “Okay, let’s talk about your new movie. You are getting USD10 million, right?” And his face gets all pinched, and he says he’s not going to discuss money. Too private. What is up with that?

Me: I think it’s natural not to want to discuss income, because when you do, you seem to be either bragging or complaining. Plus, whatever the numbers, you become an object of idiotic gossip and debate. No, I don’t discuss money. I think it’s weird that you do.

A Crazy Friend: No, I think it’s weird that you think people want to gossip, much less debate about your income.

Me: But you did ask about my income!

A Crazy Friend: That’s because I thought you wanted to spill.

Me: (Confused) Am I being taped there?

A Crazy Friend: Whoa, you really think you are Matthew McConaughey now, aren’t you?

Me: ???

49 Days

I am not making any big claims for myself but yeah, it’s true; I have been with the same ol’ bank for more than 4 years now. Wow, sounds like fooorever, right? Ha! Well, it is, especially when you consider that my next longest service in my 11 years of career making was my actually first job, which only lasted like 2 years or something…(I get bored easily, I have issues, so sue me)

My being with the same bank so long isn’t necessarily because they think I am fantastic at what I do or that I have comfortably found my newfound pastimes - kissing a** or be a waste of space or something. I have been lazy.

Something happened with me at the beginning of this year that I snapped. I got an epiphany. So I decided to make certain changes my life, make it more meaningful and you know, just went for it.

At first I wanted to volunteer for Haiti relief team, or maybe join PETA or travel around the world under the banner of Miss Universe International in the name of charity, but that would be a little too ambitious and painfully predictable eh? (Though I must say that would make a nice, great addition in my resume).

Anyway, harsh reality finally set in and at the end of all these crazy “fantasies”, somehow something great, and totally unexpected in a form of a job offer, suddenly fall onto my laps. I consider that my lucky break.

So chillax people, this sudden change of heart or ‘skid’ is nothing to do with my current employer or anyone in it at all. They have been great with me. While I am not trying to boast, I do know for a fact they’ve been pleased with my work and by large, I have too. I never come late to office, falsify medical certificates or work my way up by smooching anyone’s rear end.

Okay, maybe I am boasting now. But it means a lot to me, being able to do my work well and makes a lot of friends here; especially that bit about ‘never smooching anyone’s backside’.

Alas, all good things must end somewhere, and it is official now that day will come on 29 April 2011. Last Monday, I have tendered my resignation with 2 months notice - which like 49 days from today. For real, I counted it.

Man, I am dying with anticipation.

Almost Like an Announcement

I am about to make a huge change in my life. This probably huge-er and waay more important than the time I decided to buy my current fully important ride over a certain re-badge local brand car some 5 years ago. This is gonna be my life’s epic.

Considering how serious I am with my 2011 New Years Resolutions that I vowed to make it happen earlier this year, I have made up my mind and go for this “new change”. I decide it’s time to move on.

Unlike J.Lo in her “fake” breakdown in a recent American Idol episode (boo!), no, I will not be second guessing myself. It’s final.

Truthfully, I didn’t consult nor ask anyone about this before. Should it was a bad decision after all, I didn’t want anyone else but me to be held responsibility and be blamed for it. It was purely, 100% my decision. And just like Whitney wailed in one of her greatest tunes,“If I fail, if I succeed, at least I live as I believe…“ (Damn, you go girl!), I trust myself to make the best decision there is for me and for my own life.

Some of my friends might not be surprised with this at all. In fact, they probably see this coming from miles away. But I guess, at the end of all this, all I am asking from them is just to be happy for me with whatever decision I make. Good or bad, plain or vague.

Now, speaking about being vague….

What is this f*****g change that I have been blabbing about.

You just wait.

All I am saying for now, I am gonna make Ms. Houston real proud.

Romancing The Dummy

At first, I didn’t want to go. I thought it was just a colossal waste of time especially when I think about another kazillion of “fun stuff” I could have done with my much deserved weekend. But, sigh, I decided to go anyway. Okay, I mean someone *cough*my boss*cough* made me go. So I packed my bags, hopped onto the bus, crossed my fingers and wished that these three days of sure-hell won’t be the closest thing I imagined it to be.

I know it hard for anyone to believe this, but yes, I attended CPR training at Felda Residence, Trolak. Never heard of that place? Me neither.



Finally, after barely survived watching (tolerating) 2-hour of mindless violent, on-the-bus Z-grade movie, courtesy of the organizer, me and another 34 of us, finally arrived at the camp.

Or so I thought.

Actually No, we didn’t go straight to our dorms, instead our desperate-to-be-popular bus driver, decided to make a last minute detour to Felda Residence Hotspring. The reason? You guessed it, “Popular request”. O yeah, for real. Apparently some superstitious makciks, whom I suspect never saw hot water comes out from the ground before (or in their lifetime, ever); make a point to marinate their lose skin with the “divine” boiling water as a cure for their skin diseases. Or maybe it was just one of their 'Things-I-Want-To-Do-Before-I-Die' wish lists. Sheesh..

Grudgingly, I had to get off the bus and forced to follow this excited bunch of people to soak their nasty, little feet in the puddle of hot water in the full view of my tired eyes. Eww.

In my mind, I couldn’t wait to get to my room, have a nice, warm, long shower, hit the sack with the lights on, and tried as I might to think that this was just all a series of bad dream that I hadn’t woken up from. Unfortunately the mosquitoes bite around my calf and arms felt too real. I resented the whole situation.

First, our detour to the hotspring took a little longer than expected. I mean, a really LOT LONGER. Aside the fact that some people couldn’t really understand the concept of moderation and self-control, I found it quite distasteful that anyone would pack their groceries from home, like eggs and frozen foods and boil them in the pool, right between their nasty, nasty feet. Ewwwwwwwwwwwww……

Secondly, of course, it was raining cats and dogs when we had our dinner at the nearby restaurant. We had to wait for another 1 hour or so for the rain to let up so we can get onto our bus. (We were a mile far from the dropped off point)

Could this first day be any worse? Yes it could.

How about when I finally got the room, the key wouldn’t turn? Or there was no Astro? Or my room was in third floor and there was no elevator?? Yeap, that was the last straw. I blew my top off – quite literally. I was ready to unleash my inner diva - Christina Aguilera style, but luckily they managed to act fast or for sure some innocence life would have been on the line.

So okay, first day wasn’t really the greatest day in my life, I admit, I was acting like an immature child of some Hollywood royalty. I get it.

The next two days of the program went surprisingly rather smoothly, except for few hiccups here and there like, someone was left without a room (not my fault), and Oh, of course, the food taste expectedly terrible (no surprise there, after all, we were not in faraway resort, in the Caribbean islands on super luxury vacation). Anyhow, I thought the service and cleanliness were quite commendable.

The last day went even quicker by the minute, but by this time, my body aches in all over the place, especially around the thighs and groin regions - I guess from so many kneeling, kissing, rubbing, pressing and romancing the dummies.

Okay, fine, maybe I am still a whiny, complaining son of a bitch, and maybe that’s the way I will always be. So, whatever. I certainly am not sorry.

Hippo With Metal Mouth

I am a man with many, many, many, many wishes. I whine a lot and maybe a little paranoid. When a friend stupidly remarked that, “losing weight makes my teeth look bigger”, expectedly I freaked out. WTF!

Now, I can’t stop obsessing about my ‘deformed’ teeth. I’d look at the mirror all day and moan like some kind of evil queen, stepmother of Snow White, before she turns all witch-y with very bad dentures.

Okay, make it crazy vain too.

So for months now I have been contemplating about getting my teeth fixed, but the cost can be ridiculously expensive. Braces can cost around MYR3000 to MYR6000 and even if your company’s dental benefits would pay for it, it may not cover much of the bill.

Urgh. I hate it when I am broke.

I really want those metals in my mouth, like pronto. I want to have a mouthful of shiny, pearly, straightened teeth when I smile and not these bad, crooked ones that would scare off small kids.

This epiphany certainly put a new spin on the whole self-improvement deal. At first I thought being thinner and slimmer are all the essence of the so called “physically in the top form”. Well, it isn’t. What a letdown.

So next on my self-improvement checklist now is “make jaws bigger to balance the awfully big teeth”.

I figured the best chance for me to develop muscles around my mouth, other than you-know-what, was to do a lot of ‘hippo-cising’ a.k.a mouth exercising/training. Meaning, when I eat, drink, or yawn (practically every time I open my mouth) I take it to the extreme. I open my mouth as wide as possible and repeat the move with reckless abandon. (Warning: small kids probably still wouldn’t come near you)

It isn’t so bad. In fact I really enjoy this, but it’s a long way to go.

Feeling the snugness of my mouth and the increasing tightness of my face, I could hear the unmistakable melody of the training music from 'Rocky' soaring through my head.

If only the other areas of my life were as effortless………..

The Unwavering Truth

Yeah, I think you know who I am. Big guy. Fun. Light-hearted. Full of jokes. I consider myself a star and live in sort of “Mus-Land” where I see the world through ‘the Mus Lens.”

That's right. I'm Mr. I’m-Gonna-Live-Forever. And therefore, I am void of any real emotion.

But now, after few trips to the reality hole they called it hospitals, which you can find these “real emotions” abundantly; I began to think, “Maybe I have indeed lived in my own little world”. It got my buried conscience all riled up.

And let me tell you why.

For the entire part of my life so far, I never have had to deal with the “ultimate truth of life” – Death. I still got all the numbers of the people that I most care about in the speed dial and I go about my daily life pushing the idea that every single one of them bursting with health, that they can still beat 5 guys at one time.

So when 3 days before New Year, I received a call from my brother saying my aunt has had passed away. It shocked me to the core. I kept saying to everybody, “….but I just saw her last week!” But none of that feeble stunned reaction could even compare to those of who were much closer to her, especially her sons.

I had to witness first hand how the people around her; that loved her very much, dealt with the untimely lost. I tried my hardest to understand and to feel how they felt but I guess it was unfair of me to be pretending like that. I could never totally match up to the sheer numbness of actually losing your mother, or parents, for that matter, unexpectedly.

Now speaking about unexpectedly; last Wednesday I visited a friend, who was out of the sudden diagnosed with stage 4, pancreas cancer - only months after involved in a freak accident. I was devastated. Seeing her in that terrible condition, with such a horrible twist of cruel fate, made me all choked up and speechless.

Reaching for her hands, I immediately realized my own ‘deficiency’. I didn’t know what to say or emote. In my head, I was thinking, ‘Do I look grim?’, ‘Do I smile?’, ‘What’s appropriate thing to say?’ It was so awkward and embarrassing. At the end, I just kept my trap shut. Maybe I did utter a single quip about ‘being strong or something’, through gritted teeth. Truth is I was hard-pressed to find a single word to express how or what exactly I felt. I always had my full denial mode turned on whenever I couldn't face the bleak truth.

I know I need a lot of growing up to do. But slowly yet surely, I will come to the point of realization that this life is, in fact, grim and surviving in this world is serious business. It is ridden with surprises and certainties.

And it cannot hide the fact that ‘this isn’t my land, and in this part of the world, I am not the star and I’ll be proven wrong and disappointed, time and time again’.

The List

Urgh, it’s been a year already, hasn’t it?! Another day, another decade, another era just passed by and dayyum, I feel like my entire youth just went out the window. Just like that.

That’s it.

Today I am going to dedicate a whole post on the very thing that bothers me as much as that New Year’s Eve Fireworks a.k.a “weapon of mass pollutions” every year; please, the much-obligated New Year’s Resolutions.

Wait, I know what you think. It may sound tiresome. You might already heard this a thousand times before, whether it was from me, your whining conscience or even heck, your dusty ol’ diary you specially bought last January just for this goddamn list of things-I-should-do/achieve-this-year that never quite take off. But did it ever stop me or anyone else from keep trying year in, year out? Never. So suck it.

Anyway, we are already into the second week of 2011 and trust me by now, half of the people who obsessed about the freaking resolutions have all forgotten about them and another half probably would have died trying or simply, well, just died. So I figured this would be the best time for me to start anew.

I got myself a pen and a ehem, dusty diary and get the juice flowing. And bam, before I even knew it, I had 67 ‘things’ on my resolution list. Ha! Talk about high achiever!

Then I regressed and asked myself;

How the hell did my life come to this point where I feel so unhappy and bitter?

Easy peasy. I have been a one big ungrateful whining baby all along - always took things for granted. I mean, what else would explain that?

My throat felt a little dry.

I went over the list once more, and decided to group all the wish-me-luck lists into fewer big ones. And at the end of this seemingly an eternity process, I finally managed to whittle it down to basically only 6. These ultimate 2011 resolutions are based on the notion that they all must be measurable and attainable to me. Yeap, the key words here are “measurable” and “attainable”, which means something that I know I can (hopefully) achieve or have the slightest of chance of succeeding.

Andvoila (drum roll, please!) it was all coming down to this:

1) Lose 17.4 kg by 1 of December.

2) Update blog at least once a week.

3) Read at least one book a month.

4) Join Toastmaster group by 1 of June

5) Sign up at least one certification program by 1 of December (TD, HR, IR)

6) Clear debts.

Of course I am not stupid anymore and I have learned from my past 12 years of approximately 102 failed resolutions, I need to have a plan, or rather an action plan on how am I going to “make ‘em my b***h” . Okay, that is still work in progress.

I also decided to give these brand new resolutions a little push by sharing them all here publicly. I wanted the world to know because I think I would then take it more seriously. People can see, you can see the list, and the moment I slack off or fell off the wagon, you can just whip my ass. I promise, ehem, I won’t whip your ass back.

Okay, No. 2 checked!

See, it’s not that hard! I am off to a great start.

Change Gon' Come

SMS

Sender: Herman

Received: 11:47:47 am Today

‘Friendly’ Reminder: Dear Blog Owner, your last update was 15^th of December. Your standard operating procedure for blog update is 14 days or less. As of date, we have not received any blog update from you. Kindly be notified. Thank you.

Reply:

Sorry mate, truly, truly sorry. I’ve had a life-changing couple of days and keep up with my blog hasn’t been top of the agenda. Just one of the many reasons I am feeling terribly guilty. And deeply, deeply shamed.

Oh, and deeply freaking relieved in a glad-to-be-alive kinda way too.

You’ll want the full story, I suppose, but it’ll have to wait till we meet again (and trust me, we WILL meet again). It’s wayy too raw for this page. You need to be able to smell the tears.

In an admittedly lame attempt to make things up to you, I’ll say, starting this year, I am a changed man. No more bad food, no debts, no ‘DJ’, no more hates, no more DRAMAS, no nothing that would remind you of the old me. Time has changed, and as the wise man says, so should we.

Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve said it before. Countless times. But this time, I MEAN it.

Right now I can see you’re rolling your eyes towards the back of your skull, but that’s alright. I guess that’s why they invented New Year’s resolutions, so friends can say “I told ya!” to another friend when they screw all their resolutions by February. Ha!

Shit, I’d better sign off before I screw the resolution No. 4.

See you before you know it.

PS

I trust you’re having excellent New Year. I know I am. That being the case, I decided to gather my thoughts on the year ahead and I can’t wait to see you and tell you all about it.

PSS

I’ve come to realize that, actually, this year I am gonna be 3*! OMG!!!!

PSSS

Next time one of the f****r asks me if I remember the days when Whitney Houston wasn’t a crack whore I’ll floor him. Or her, I don’t care.