Mus The Great

Descending Angels

2011-10-05T23:32:00.007+08:00

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

2011-09-25T23:57:00.003+08:00

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

2011-09-16T15:44:00.003+08:00

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!

2011-09-07T22:49:00.002+08:00

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

2011-09-03T23:11:00.004+08:00

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"

2011-09-01T16:58:00.003+08:00

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

2011-08-29T03:20:00.002+08:00

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

2011-08-22T20:26:00.003+08:00

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!

2011-08-14T23:01:00.003+08:00

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

2011-05-29T23:59:00.009+08:00

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!

2011-05-15T16:45:00.003+08:00

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

2011-05-08T23:48:00.002+08:00

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!

2011-05-01T23:20:00.002+08:00

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!

2011-03-27T14:43:00.002+08:00

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

2011-03-20T16:13:00.002+08:00

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

2011-03-12T15:42:00.004+08:00

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

2011-02-27T21:55:00.002+08:00

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

2011-02-20T22:23:00.004+08:00

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

2011-01-22T13:57:00.005+08:00

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

2011-01-14T13:42:00.005+08:00

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

2011-01-09T20:37:00.004+08:00

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

2011-01-04T00:37:00.004+08:00

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.

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.

Spam-a-Lot

2010-12-15T23:04:00.005+08:00

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

2010-12-01T00:59:00.003+08:00

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

2010-11-29T01:09:00.001+08:00

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!

2010-11-21T16:45:00.001+08:00

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

2010-10-25T07:06:00.004+08:00

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

2010-10-10T14:19:00.003+08:00

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?

2010-10-05T21:15:00.004+08:00

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

2010-09-26T16:06:00.003+08:00

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!

2010-09-15T09:19:00.014+08:00

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

2010-09-06T17:08:00.004+08:00

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!"

2010-08-31T14:31:00.004+08:00

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

2010-08-22T18:25:00.002+08:00

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!

2010-08-14T01:00:00.007+08:00

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

2010-08-06T22:23:00.002+08:00

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

2010-08-02T13:10:00.001+08:00

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!

2010-07-24T21:19:00.007+08:00

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

2010-07-19T00:25:00.002+08:00

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

2010-07-12T22:46:00.003+08:00

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

2010-07-04T12:04:00.002+08:00

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

2010-06-27T09:04:00.002+08:00

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

2010-06-19T20:12:00.002+08:00

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

2010-06-12T12:30:00.002+08:00

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

2010-06-05T20:42:00.005+08:00

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

2010-05-29T09:42:00.002+08:00

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

2010-05-22T17:46:00.010+08:00

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

2010-05-15T09:17:00.002+08:00

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!

2010-05-08T13:53:00.008+08:00

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

2010-04-30T14:04:00.007+08:00

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!

2010-04-25T01:25:00.007+08:00

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

2010-04-15T22:02:00.009+08:00

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!

2010-04-11T19:36:00.004+08:00

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

2010-04-04T11:40:00.008+08:00

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

2010-03-29T00:13:00.005+08:00

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!

2010-03-21T11:35:00.003+08:00

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

2010-03-14T13:18:00.006+08:00

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...

I Don't Remember Seeing Him

2010-03-08T22:44:00.004+08:00

I hate having to come for training during weekend. Waking up as early as 7.00am on Saturday morning was like a military campaign. Why there’s a need to spend a full 8 hours of futile boredom on the I-care-for-nothing day?

And the rest of the participants weren’t particularly discreet about our displeasure either, so the trainers promised a shorter hour while doing a really 'fun stuff’ together. (Snort, after discussing the whole economic impacts on Iceland for 2 days straight, what could possibly be more fun thing to do today? Would boiling family pet be next?)

So I sat serenely (half-asleep) in the corner, disassociating myself from the unearthly clamors around me. I need my sleep. I need my sleep. I chanted loudly to myself.

I didn’t expect any intrusion, but then there this one participant came to me unannounced. I was alarmed. Gee, I hoped it wasn’t about my nasty remark about his stripe shirt over morning tea break yesterday.

"Mus, semalam ko kata ko Sekolah Sains Muar kan?”. I nodded, a little surprise but swollen with self-important.

"Ko kenal adik aku, Taib Tariq kan? He just told me about your dirty little secret”. He chuckled and seemed quite devilishly pleased.

I was unmoved. Being a perfectly normal, hot-blooded teenager many years ago, I could have done a million and one things that I probably wouldn’t be proud to admit now, but hey, that’s just that.

In fact, I assure you, I do not have any problem when someone, somehow knows a little bit about my past. I have nothing - seriously, completely hideous - to hide. I’m not a psycho who pulled the legs off ants as a child, nor do I have any outstanding arrest warrants, so like I said, I wasn’t particularly concerned.

"He told me what everybody called you back then. Pretty nasty nick huh?”. I felt the blood seeped from my ears. He just made a pretty irreversible, unforgivable mistake.

I swear I couldn’t remember a thing what happened after that. Only that, it was the last time, anybody ever heard about him, ever, again. *Shrug*

And Oh! The class went really, really well.

I Can't Feel My Leg!

2010-02-27T11:51:00.006+08:00

I was in full panic mode this morning. While having a hearty breakfast with my sister, I shockingly realized, something was amiss, I couldn't feel my left leg, especially in the upper thigh region.

In a perfectly normal circumstances I wouldn't likely tend to rub my own porky thigh in public, until this morning where I got a sudden urge to dust the crust of the "remaining" of the aforementioned breakfast on my lap. And then there it was as I poked it several times and it felt....nothing.

To tell you the truth, it wasn't so much felt like pins-and-needles you get usually arises from sitting cross-legged for hours but more like abnormal prickling-like sensations often described as "feel-less pain" right after you undergoing anesthetizing procedures for molar retraction. Now how can you honestly tell me, I shouldn't be worried and this was nothing?!

The minute I got home, I rubbed all sorts of ointments on the affected area (times two) and hoped for the 'miracle' to work but nope, nothing seemed to work. All I got was oily, minty thigh.

Then I ran to the nearest cyber cafe available and I googled the symptoms on the Internet and immediately ran into all sort of causes from Alcoholism to Leprosy, which made my heart pounding even more violently as I never thought I should've checked the list of 3 millions causes of numbness before. I was literally in tears. Now I feel numb around my eyes, hopefully from constant outburst.

As I type this, the feel-lessness on my thigh still linger and I really don't know what else to do.

People who know me, knows that, I don't get scared easily. I'd make Atilla The Hun like a headless chicken. But this is too much. I know I am not an overreact hypochondriac Drama Queen this time. I am just worried, probably not more than Brad Pitts getting his first breakout. But this is a 'life-changing' experience for me and I am sure It was quite a 'life-changing experience' for my sister too! I tell you, it was quite a scene in the restaurant this morning (sorry sis!).

God knows I need to feel my left thigh again.

Note: Much later, it turned out, it was really an acute case of Overreact-Hypochondriac-Drama-Queen syndrome after all, as everyone expected. I am fine, I just can't help being a clinically challange, psychologically damage person that I am. And being on the heavy side a bit didn't help too.

How Would You Dress If You Had A Choice?

2010-02-26T11:29:00.004+08:00

It hasn't been my week. No, that's understatement, I was devastated. I never thought I'd see this coming, not in a million years. They asked us to conform, to bow upon oppression, to follow. To wear the new corporate uniform, every single day of the week!

I am a unique, independent individual. I have a much classy-er, better fashion sense than anyone in PR. I am against oppression and I am launching a campaign to end them forever. (I'm a dreamer, what can I say?) Below is my list for reasons;

1) In actuality uniforms are a nuisance and a destructively inappropriate way of robbing us of our individuality and taking away our basic rights: freedom of expression.

2) I was once mistaken with a movie character just because of the old corporate uniform. Someone blatantly asked me, "Are you a 'Na'vi'? 'Cause you're wearing almost all blue." I have never been asked this before, and I was shocked. I don't want to be confused with that tree-hugging,10ft alien from Avatar anymore.

3) I know a staff, we will just call him Mr. M, who dressed in drag to work just to rebel against the uniform. We can't have that, can we?

4) We work hard for our money, so shouldn't we be able to spend it on something that will please us, bring us joy, and a sense of accomplishment? With a uniform we think things like, "I saved up and Now I have to buy this stupid, tacky, Navy blue shirt. Yuk!"

5) Some people think that uniforms give us more corporate pride. Yeah right! Haven't they heard, corporate song? tie? mug? corporate household products?

6) Uniforms bring people together? Okay, whatever. Clothing does not separate us. In fact, it has absolutely nothing to do with clothing styles. Flame me if you want, but I think that we would become closer if we were allowed free dress. Unity through a uniform? Please.

7) Let's face it...we all look like dorks. Don't you think that a good working enviornment is one in which we feel good about ourselves and the way we are dressed?

8) Two words-Dry Cleaning!

9) How one dresses is a representation of who that person is. On the other hand, a uniform is a uniform. A dull, stale, boring, crusty old uniform. How would you dress if you had a choice?

Mus Lawless

2010-02-20T23:32:00.006+08:00

My head was whirling. This afternoon, exactly 1.30 in the afternoon, as I was digging up my wallet at the ATM, I shockingly realized, I have been on the wrong side of the law for past three months!! I mean, looky here.

I can’t believe how can I forget to check the expiry date on my driving license every two days or so. Who doesn’t do that? Now, I feel like a prison state bound outlaw or murderer or something. I am not kidding, because the only way to get caught without valid driving licence is to have a road block for every 20 yards. And what are the odds? Now with RPK and Bala are running loose, pretty damn good if you asked me.

So I tried to focus on the task in my hands, half-heartedly giving myself a pep talk. Oh well, I thought, just go get the damn licence renewed, I mean how bad could it be ?

(Roll eyes) I knew nothing, didn’t I?

Two hours in the packed, sweltering lobby later, after checking my FB for kazillion times, my number, (three million and two) finally was called.

"Nak renew lesen”, I told the tired looking man in charge simply.

"Hari ni tak boleh, Isnin sampai Jumaat, office hour sahaja”, he said sharply, stingingly and without looking at me. (He was busy counting money)

"Tahu tak mana cawangan lain yang terdekat?”. I asked again, struggling to contain my utter displeasure (disgust) with his attitude.

"Tak tahu”. He simply shrugged, as if I was his long lost illegitimate son trying to milk his money and calling him daddy.

For a brief moment I entertained the thought of killing him and shoving him in my car’s trunk, but I realized I’d probably need a licence for that too. I shook my head in exasperation. It was amazing that no matter how black my mood already was, something always came along to make it even darker.

Is being rude necessary to those people who asked you nicely, or when well in fact it is your job promises to give an exceedingly good customer service to those who matters the most, especially in my goddamn hour of need like this? Some nerve!

As I drove home (illegally, of course) my resentment towards that no-good, awful rotten stinky troll was boiling. If only this was backwater, lawless country....

Horny Toad And Sexy Amoeba

2010-02-14T10:07:00.010+08:00

It’s a long, loong weekend for me. It’s Chinese New Year weekend and I am stuck with no one but my two loyal, fluffy teddy bears. All my friends are gone for the holiday and celebrating. (Which I find it very strange since I am pretty sure none of them are of chinese descendent or married to one!)

Four uneventful, lonesome days proved to much for me, so I did exactly what a socially retarded dude like me would do in time like this - I went and checked out the internet chat rooms.

You can talk pretty much about anything to pretty much anybody on the internet, but people can behave appallingly in chat rooms. You probably innocently popped in with a casual inquiry about the whether and bam, you’d receive a lot of messages asking if you are menstruating.

This is both astonishing and unbelievably scary. Well, unless, you are really into "that", that’s fine with me but I think I better off talking about gardening, ancient history or pressing wild flowers or something. So excuse me for being a prude.

And then there this new way of communicating which made me realized I haven’t probably been in internet chat rooms, gee, for quite sometime. People now love to write in a hurry, you know, the incredibly keystroke-saving letter combination or grouping punctuations to form pictures, as if they were ancient egyptian symbols.

In fact my messages were filled with such ‘codes’, it could send to space: lol for "laugh out loud", brb for "be right back" and ic for "I see" and didkwaysimawpakirirabdwi for "damn, I don’t know what are you saying, I might as well press any key in random in reply and be done with it".

Usually, I do have a very good instinct and great at deciphering and decoding things. I live for meaning. In fact, just the other day, my housemate accused me of talking to a stray dog. (I named her Joy). I am that good when it comes to 'unintelligent' communication.

But this one message stumbled me. One message so laden with enigmatic codes it completely threw me off guard. It took a great mind and even greater patience to remotely convinced myself that this person didn’t just throw insult at me.

Horny toad: I m m****, asl, u 1 sx?

Me (Sexy amoeba): :0 (wide-mouthed surprise)

Horny toad: u m?

Me: ;) (knowing wink)

Horny toad: u no ne f?

Me: :O (even greater surprise, or maybe that’s a pig)

Horny toad: #-)

Me: “{}+:?>< (Of course I made that one up).

Yeah, that was stupid and I was bumped out but hey at least it was mentally stimulating.

And the great thing about internet chatting is that you are completely in control of the situation. In the last resort you can just log off.

N (for ‘end’)

A Battle I Can't Win

2010-02-05T11:00:00.011+08:00

I just got back from my beginning-of-the-year holiday. Oh nothing extravagant. Just a mini 4-day, 3 hours drive, getaway with oh well, who-else.

I thought I needed to get the engines going. You know, get my grooves back. Now that the workloads in the office are beginning to pile up and expectations are shooting up from every side, I needed a breather. It’s a new year for god’s sake. I was in a dire need for self-pepping.

I didn’t go very far. Just someplace that near to a beach. I am drawn to water. Lots of it. It gives me a much needed clarity and a point of view.

So what else did I bring back? See, I found out I was good at getting suntan. All I had to do was put my face up to the sun for a couple of hours and voila, people would seriously think I was just come back from a Caribbean Island (or just survived a very bad fire explosions in a tanning salon, depending on which part of my body that they were looking at)

I also, cruelly just found out that, throughout this 4-day 'winding-up' period, I've (shriek!!) gained a little weight. An absolute nightmare. Maybe a couple of kilos, I don’t know, I wouldn’t even dare to step on the scale. I simply knew it. My hips never lie.

The worst thing about holiday is that everything tastes delicious out there. An old piece of keropok lekor you would sneer at in the city becomes an irresistible taste treat. A simple plate of rojak buah with a lot of gravy nuts in it will have me rolling around on the floor in ecstasy.

Before the day had gotten under way, I'd been known to inhale two bagfuls of pisang goreng and keledek goreng all in one sit. With no drink. Yikes.

OK, I came back to KL yesterday with my “new beach body”. So what? I may have 'temporarily’ fall off the wagon in that department, but at least I got my mental health and a new point of view (to top off my new "golden” complexion), right?

Sigh.

I just can’t win, can I?

Glee'd!

2010-01-28T08:03:00.005+08:00

So it’s true. Last night, when I thought no one was looking, I watched my new favourite TV show, GLEE. I know it was soo gay of me, but I was hooked fast on the show the moment one of the main characters, Mercedes, broke into song and belted Kanye’s Gold Digger! The girl can sure rock the house, plus I honestly felt her version was even better than the original - triplefold!

I love comedies and I have always love musicals, so I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’d fall hard for a show like this. It brought out the singer, the dancer in me, no, the entertainer in me. (Oh God, I feel like one of those delusional phycopaths in the American Idol audition only to be told 'you suck’).

And please, do not even try to suggest this is yet another poor version of 'High School Musical'. It is sooo not. In fact, they are poles apart. That teen musical that has Zac Effron in it was all about popular kids, who sang and danced their way to their graduation day, without misplacing a single strand of hair. Glee is all about misfits (the geeks, and the unpopulars) who love to do what they do, which, something they are passionate about and of course good at.

And admit this, aren’t this bunch simply the much better singers and dancers than any of, heck, the whole cast of 'High School Musical' put together?

I guess, the show reminds me a lot about me during my high schools years a while back then. OK, minus the singing and the dancing. No one did that. So I guess I was just a geek. But I vividly remember I did share the very same passion and I was hopeful and full of 'dreams'. Sadly, my 'dreams' never did come true. (I was told many years ago, I didn’t have this thing they called ‘talent’ to make it in the business, bah!).

I feel them. I can totally relate myself to the story. I feel it best embodies everything that’s should be right in my life 20 years ago. I should've been allowed to do what I wanted to do. Things that’d make me happy. So I wouldn't feel so trapped. Like how I feel. Now.

The show is soo cool, it doesn’t even matter what people's gonna say about it or me. I am singing my way to the bathroom now.

Cue the music, please!

Hey World! I Am A Moron!

2010-01-22T14:03:00.004+08:00

Let’s backtrack a little. Exactly one week ago, as reported via my FB status, I twisted my ankle real bad. The kind of ‘bad’ that left dear ankle swollen greatly, it beyond recognition. I thought I fractured a bone or something but it turned out I just tore my ligamen in the region. So the doctor gave me a truckload of pain killers to last a week and a motherly good ol’ advice - Be careful next time and try to look straight ahead when walking.

Good advice.

Looking at the circumstances, you’d think I repented and mended my way, but Nooooo, Mr.I'm-A-Superstar-So-I-Have-To-Walk-Like-One never takes advice from anyone, not even a constructive one. So I deserve to be miserable and suffer. I am a pathetic failure of a man!

Yesterday, I twisted my ankle YET again. The same ankle. The very same foot. And you’d think that was punishing enough. Wrong! It got worse. This time, it was more like a spectacular event of the year. It couldn’t happen in a more appropriate ‘arena’. I tripped over an invisible log and fell flat-on-the-face....in my office lobby....during lunch hour.......in a full view of the entire organization’s community !!!!

The whole lobby was filled with my howl.

Suddenly I felt I was like in a stage, all blackened out with only one light in the center. Me. The trippy, overweight, off-balance loser!!!

I hunched over and brought my hands up to my face, cupping it, as if I was drinking water from a stream. I couldn’t walk , I couldn’t even stand! How could I? I had an audience, for God’s sake!!

How did my life take such a dismal turn? What did I do wrong along the way? My feet were too small to support my belly. Or I lacked the ability to support my big belly in the required way. Whatever it is, it sicken me.

I am on MC to today, not only to recuperate from the swollen ankle and from the bruised ego but to think over what I have done to me and my life so far, that I deserved to be this pathetic!

God, Please Let Him Be Wrong

2010-01-17T21:05:00.009+08:00

I probably shouldn’t have mentioned this, but yes, I have been bobbing up and down the threadmill at my office gym for more than three months now. It’s sorta my new year’s resolution this year, to –surprise,surprise- lose some weight.

And yes I only go to my office gym, because it’s nearby and convenient. I can go and work out during lunchtime or even after office hour. Alright, plus it’s free. And let be honest, I’ve never understood the concept of paying hundreds of ringgits to an expensive lifestyle gym just to sweat (I can even do that in my bedroom!). Not only does it get super crowded during peak hours, you probably have to wait a lifetime (or two) to get on the treadmill. And the air inside is, Sweet Lord!, stale and fetid too.

So there you go. I thought I have everything down pat, all of them in place with absolutely with no cost. I was even beginning to feel a little different. I was pumped up. This year, this time, this could be it. I never felt so good and so sure about myself before.

Then someone had to ruin my party and attacked me with these vicious words, clocked under the pretext 'friendly banter', which I didn't find it amusing at all.

"Wow, Mus, have you gained weight?”, chuckled annoyingly,“What happened to your so-called New Year's resolution? Given up already?”. More chuckled, more annoyingly.

What?

I understand, between friends, banter and apparent rudeness are often ways of expressing deep attachment. You hear friends explaining to other people outside their group, that they can only be so rude to each other because they love each other. And we do love a briliant barb. But I, for one, believe banter has to exist within rules. Especially when it comes to my constant personal struggles.

Am I really gained weight? After all those odd hours at the gym? Am I not doing it right? God, Hope I am not! He’s probably just jealous because I finally decided to do something about my waisline and he, well, is not. So I am gonna let that off-putting remarks to slide and surely I am not gonna dignify this with a whole post. And of course I am gonna be sure as hell gonna be alright....in a day or two.

I have far more frightening thing to worry about.

The only thing that far worse than what he has just said, is probably.......he was saying the truth after all!!

This Isn't A Love Story

2010-01-10T18:40:00.004+08:00

Have you ever felt like you’ve met a perfect person that you were convinced that you were “destined” to be together, only to find out later, they weren't?

Allow yourself to believe that the relationship wasn’t completely futile pursuit that would inevitably end in pain? (as if you didn’t know better)

Found yourself unable, or unwiling to get on with your life after the imminent break up?

If you say Yes to all of the questions above then I just got a perfect movie for you.

There’s something about this little movie that sucked me to it completely. It didn’t follow the rules. In fact it crushed them all. And left me bewildered.

When my brother pushed the DVD for me to watch,“Jangan lupa tengok!,” I happened to look at the ‘little warning’ note on the cover.

“This is not a love story. This is a story about love”.

I knew I was in for something, erm, surprising. Something that doesn’t quite go where we think it will.

This is a story about Tom (Gordon-Lewitt), a hopeless romantic greeting card copywriter who seriously thinks that his world comes crushing down when his girlfriend Summer (Zooey Deschanel) of 500 days dumps him. So Tom shifts back and forth through their 500 days courtship in getting answers on what went wrong.

(Spoiler alert!)

What I like about the story is, it never feeds on our expectations on how things will turned out for both of the characters. There is no happy ending. The girl isn’t coming back to Tom (she in fact married the next guy she met in a split second). Tom never understands why Summer left him and the story is all about that.

The only thing that clearly dawned to Tom (and us, eventually) at the end of it all is; he really wasn’t the one. His final revelation turns out to be in front of him all along and he never realizes it.

I know some people will find the movie is too weird and thorny. But I find it exhilarating. It’s sad, but it’s sooo sad it’s funny – just like any other real relationship you know and ever been in. It has a very unsettling yet satisying conclusion and you know what I am saying once you see it yourself.

I am no expert in relationship but I do know disappointments were inevitable. Nobody is perfect. Without question, we’ll experience the ups and downs that all relationships provide, but we know we better be suited to handle them, because at the end of it, it’s all worth it.

Having said that, I recommend this movie to who ever been in love and/or out of it.

Diva Intervention

2010-01-05T17:50:00.004+08:00

All my friends know how obsessed I am when it comes to Mimi. No kidding. I mean who else would buy several of her brand new albums and put them on in his car, at home, in his bedroom and another in his office?

And remember every single word in her every single song including The Remix Album and Glitter? (small font is not unintentional)

Went completely ballistic when anyone with an IQ dangerously below 20 tried to compare the incomparable Queen Mimi with Miss no-talent Leona Lewis?!

Madness. Not my finest moments but deep down I know all my times sticking up on her will pay off someday (Oh God, please!)

So, I guess it would be quite unsurprisingly redundant if I say I managed to watch her new, critics-darling movie, ‘Precious’, which I think most probably wouldn’t see the light of days here in Malaysia.

This vision brings tears to eyes, alright!

It’s a story about an overweight and illiterate 16 years old teenager, Claireece ‘Precious’ Jones, who was raped by her own father and now is pregnant with her second child.

It was a very, horribly depressing movie, I know. But luckily it only lasted less than 100 minutes and there were a lot of dream sequences, and unexpected social humors in it, so basically, I could barely survived watching in full. And of course there’s Mimi in it. Duh.

I have nothing much to say about the movie, except it tore at my soul watching it and I was deeply disturbed by the sad and horrible way life treated the main character.

Surprisingly, instead of going down with the way of tragic ending like any other movie would do, you know, to milk shamlessly on our tears, ‘Precious ‘ showed greatness in spirit that came through in her simple way of seeing the world around her. It has a feel-good ending, which methinks is refreshing.

The strength of the movie of course was the superb acting performances all around by all the casts especially you-know-who.

And yet I can’t stop without saying this; despite all the terrible, unspeakable horror that happened in the movie, nothing can match the pain and agony like seeing Mariah without her make up on.

That’s what I call a real Armageddon-ish, Greek Tragedy on 10 of richter scale!

You do not see that everyday!

A Brand New Start

2010-01-02T18:19:00.004+08:00

New Year usually means nothing to me. But not this year. This year I am gonna take some action. I am gonna reset my life and you know, start anew.

Wait. I know you'd ask, 'What happened'? Why now?!

Usually, I try to avoid discussing "controversial" topic here but sigh, OK. if you must know; ahem, someone I really care about *blush* sent me this cheeky poem via sms (or is it words from a song? Someone please enlighten me!) It sure does sound like a music to me.

Anyway it goes something like this,

Selamat Tahun Baru 2010
Semoga Panjang Umur dan Murah Rezeki Selalu
Muah Muah Muah (I swear to God, I wasn't imagining this!)

Aww...so sweet. OK maybe not terribly the most original thing ever to say, but who cares, I know I don't! Ha!

And to those of you, who probably hasn't received anything as remotely thoughtfully romantic as this, I have only this to say to you guys!

Selamat Tahun Baru 2010
Semoga Panjang Umur dan Murah Rezeki Selalu
Muah Muah Muah

OK. Being unoriginal is infectious. So whatcha gonna do about it?

Big Boys Don't Cry

2009-12-23T16:10:00.012+08:00

Real men never, ever cry. Over anything. Not even a death in the family, not a bullet in the chest. Full stop. Case closed. You may mist up slightly in one eye only when a favourite sports legend retires, but real, macho men know just how bad life is. Real men grit their teeth and take bill after bill, war after war.

And I am all that!

I never cry. It takes a lot for me to shed a tear of two. Yes, I have a heart made of moon rock. I couldn't even remember when was the last time I did. Probably a decade ago, when I had to be consoled by my little sister when we both watched Mufasa died in The Lion King. But again, whoever, rock-hearted monster wouldnt't right?

I take pride to know I can stand tall and proud among the real, legendary alpha males; in the company of Genghis Khan, William 'Braveheart' Wallace or Sir Elton John.

So I repeat, I never cry!

But, this week, I guess I kinda broke somekind of a new record. At least in the Macho-dom. I CRIED. Gulp! Not once. Not twice. But THREE times! Over what, you may ask? Getting tetanus shot? a chipped finger nail? another lion died?! Nope. Nope. Nope. I say you won't believe this.

See, I told you, you wouldn't believe it.

It was all started when my former boss recommended this book to me (now I blame her). At first I was hesitated, cause, you know, it's essentially a love story. Something that didn't bore too well with me. The stinking cheese of that Twilight craps still linger with me that I swore never to touch any so-called 'love story/chick flicks' by any female author again...urghhh. I could die of hydration due to non-stop vomitting!

Anyhow, I made a mistake (after much coaxing) of reading the few first pages of the book. And what a big mistake it was. The book turned out to be a total unputdownable, so to speak. The next thing I know, I got this watery substance rolling down my cheeks. Damn.

It's a story about a man who time travels. The only thing that hold his life together is a woman whom he always come back to, the love of his life, throughout her existence. He met her when she was six and he was 42 and their 'life' keeps on intertwining (time-traveling-ly-speaking) since then.

Sounds like the most romantic thing you ever heard huh? The only catch is, he can't control where or when he'll be gone. So most of the times, the girl is left alone in the present, pining for her man to come around, not knowing he's in fact, always there for her somewhere, someplace, in other period of her life. A little confusing but powerfully heartbreaking stuff.

OK I cried THREE times somewhere between page one and the last page. That was a little twice as many I cried for the past ten years.

I have proven myself to be the wimp by admitting this. Or maybe machismo is simply an overrated thing, I really don't know. It is a very slippery thing. It's hard to live by the old macho code these days. Blame it on the Beckhams or the Eltons but today's men, would even cry for a pair of shoes or....God, help us all...a book!

Oh world, hear me now, and chant this loudly with me;

I am a real man. Big, sweaty, meat-eating ignorant man. I have large packages. And balls. Made of brass and metal. Well, I used to have them anyway. Now I want them back.

We want them back, do we?

Man, I pine for the sheer stupidity of the old macho days.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

2009-12-19T13:53:00.008+08:00

Right after the end credits rolled out, I turned to my company and asked, "Sooo, what do think?", half expectedly, I thought, he'd jump out of his seat and hail The King. Alas, he only murmured, "Oklah..." with the similar enthusiasm of getting his eyebrows plucked.

And that exactly how it was. "Oklah".

Calm down, peeps. This is not saying the movie, "AVATAR", was a major snooze-fest. In fact - if it really makes everyone happy - it was actually far from it. It was eye-popping, heart-stopping, mind-blowing, one hellava movie ride. But coming from the very same director who brought you "Titanic", I guess you should already know what to expect - true, it was technically amazing, got the grandest of setting, visually spectacular, breakthrough CGI.....and quite frankly, ehem, not so much of anything else.

OK for one thing, the movie was way, wayyyy too long. By the time it ended, I felt like I was already halfway through to Planet Pandora! I am sorry, Mr. Cameron, but my big butt and my tiny urinary bladder can only tolerate two hours of continous sitting, so please, hire a better editor!

And Sir, while you are at it, can you please find a better (preferably with conversational experience with real people) screenwriter? Honestly, the dialogues here were downright cheesy. (They've sent us a message... that they can take whatever they want. Well we will send them a message. That this... this is our land!). Cue: roll eyes. Need I say more?

And come on, Oh what's so original about "girl-meets-boy, boy-falls-in-love-with-the-girl-who happens-to-be-the-daughter-of-the-leader's-tribe, then-the-girl-finds-out-the-truth-about-the-boy-and-gets-really-upset-and-dumps-the-boy, and-the-boy-tries-to-win-back-the-girl-in-a-background-setting-of-a-major-doomed-epic-tragedy"? 'Pocahontas, 'The Last of Samurai', anyone?

Even I can summarize the three-hour long movie in less than a paragraph! I bet most spanish soap operas got more intelligent twists than this one has to offer.

Stripping down all the stunning-but-super expensive effects here, all you see is one big, giant cheeseball mess, with too many sappy, cliche-ridden lines and the acting was way too forced.

Anyway, trying not to be a further ginormous ass that I already am, I am gonna say, the movie was still worth checking out solely based on the escapism value it offers only and nothing else. If you are looking for an emotionally engaging, mentally stimulating movie, then by all mean, look elsewhere.

So, I am gonna shut my trap now and recommend this movie only to those who are really into action packed, Sci-fi, 3D blockbuster flick and/or....er, Sam Worthington.

OK, now I talk too much. Zip.

My Frogging December

2009-12-12T13:47:00.009+08:00

I love December. It's the month full of festivities, weddings, mega sale and school holidays. The traffic is less maddening and I'll be out of my office most of its days, so it's very hard not to love it. December is definitely my favorite month of the year.

OK, OK, maybe they are couple of things associated with the month that bug me as well. O you know like the crowded mall, jam-packed cinemas and the mandatory, much-obliged New Year's resolutions which I despise so much. But, in the meantime I guess I'll just have to get by those annoyances by entertaining myself - like watching a movie.

A couple nights back, I managed to catch 'The Princess and The Frog' in Alamanda Putrajaya. I am pretty much sure I watched it on the first night it premiered so I guess I am entitled to bragging right, ain't I?

Anyhoo, the movie was delighfully entertaining. Being a little child trapped in a (beautiful) grownup body, I've always loved Disney's animated flicks, so there's no suprise here. (This would automatically disqualified me to write a full blown review cause you know, objectivity issues). But it was really, really an amazing movie. While I didn't expect anything less this time, I was a little overwhelmingly inspired by the take-home moral of the story - wishing is the only half of a dream, hard work is the other.

Now, coming back to what I despise the most - the New Year resolutions; having taken hint from a movie I watched earlier, this time I will just abandon them altogether. What's the point of keeping disappointing myself? I will concentrate more on the 'working on them' instead of just 'dreaming over them'. I've come to know dreams/goals/resolution isn't just about the time frame; when to start or on what day to stop. It's a perpetually continuos effort.

Who knows what'll happen to me next year. It's not like I've been caring that much what I have or have not achieved this year,so I'll just try to look forward. Even so;

I am gonna go with the flow but I will try making more wise, rightful decisions. I'll try to be less demanding and more accomodating.
I am gonna be a little more realistic. And if by the end of the day I still don't get what I want, heck, I am gonna pick myself up and do it all over again, like an enegizer bunny on steroid.

And comes New Year in a couple of weeks, I am gonna celebrate it hard. I mean really really hard. There goes another year and it's for all things I have done this year (achivements or failures, proud and shame). Bottomline, so far I am happy I did manage to make a couple of wise decisions for myself nonetheless. I have no regret, only lesson.

I am gonna celebrate it, hard. You will see, you will see. Cause I am gonna bust my butt well right after the partying ends. I promise.

I Wish You Wouldn't Say That

2009-12-05T00:41:00.007+08:00

It had been awhile since the last time I met my old buddy, Sulastri. It's probably about time he called me again 'cause I kinda missed how he looked like these days. Honestly, I was hoping he's fat with a shiny bald spot on the top of his head. And probably with bad back. Well, no such luck but I am still glad he still keeps my numbers.

We were quite close back then when we were both worked as management trainees in a (take a breath) hell hole, blood sucking, now-defunct, once so-called financial institution that I refuse to name. By the end of the program,we found ourselves heading to our separate ways, since he was posted to JB branch and I was here in KL. Sounds like a tragic love story eh? Only it was not!

Fast forward 10 years later, he miraculously managed to stick around with the same "hell hole" we loathed so much and I am on my 11th job now. And of course he's gotten married with two kids and me still single with two teddy bears! He went on to open a restaurant and I am just opening wound to my bruised ego! OK, sure I hate the man!

Anyway, two days ago, he was in in KL for business and was nice enough to call and invite me over for lunch, you know, to catch up. Of course I was more than willing to accommodate an old friend's request for catching up as long as he's paying, so I picked up one of my favourite cafe in KL.

Like a mother who has just reunited with her long lost daughter who ran away with an Indonesian worker, we were talking for hours. We talked about everything, we even made plan on things to do in the evening since he was planning only to go back to JB on the next day.

So we went around making plan for the second half of our 'catching up' session. We went on detailing the evening's itinerary. We kept telling ourselves we missed all the fun stuff we did together and we wanted to feel that feeling again. You know, free and young.

And then his phone rang. Or sounded more like a screech to me.

His daughters called. They missed him so much and 'begged' him to come home that night. And there and then, I knew the daughters won over an old, unmarried friend anytime.

He had to cancel our plans and said something like, "Gosh, I wish I were still single, you know like you, so I can do all all these fun stuff, guilt-free"

"Sure, you do"

Hang on, he wanted to be just like me? That didn't sound right. Somehow it didn't make me feel good about myself either.

Man, what have I done with my life?

The Road

2009-11-27T23:45:00.007+08:00

For years, friends have been critisizing me for having 'unclassy' inclination towards today's popular literatures. Meaning, I only read those tie-in books with soon-to be released Hollywood adaptation of them.

While there maybe a certain truth to that, I have to admit, I gravitate towards neat packages and great marketing. I believe great cover usually translates a great story - always judge a book by its cover (no matter how incredulous it sounds). So yeah, I guess maybe I am not that classy, so deal with it.

Anyhow, by being a little ahead of the movie premier, I got to complain, whine and point snoobishly to my friends, if and when, the movie version isn't as good or not up to my "expectations". Now, that feels good, isn't it?

So having said that, my current "squeeze"- in the most literature and Hollywood sense is - The Road by Cormac McCarthy.

The story is pretty simple. It follows a man and his son who are trying to get to the coast (where the 'good people' are) when the world has been burnt to the ground and the bad guys are trying to find and kill them.

And when I said 'simple', by golly, it really means simple. All the characters have no names or at least purposely never mentioned for the duration of the book. The book also never discussed what happened or caused the apocalyse and why. In this world, things are bleak. Really, really bleak, with the land bereft of nearly all plant and animal life. The only thing that get our hero going, is the love he has for his son, who by the way is too young to understand the calamity around him.

I think The Road is the book that has affected me more strongly than any other. In the most brutally bleak post-apocalypse scenario that could ever be envisioned, a father and son trying to stay alive, plodding on, weighed down by constant misery and fear because it's all they can do. Cormac McCarthy has broken pretty much all issues in life to their bare, terrible bones. Father and son, removed from all context of family or home, are like two dogs watching out for one another. Memories are everywhere and yet so distant.

There’s no why: whatever catastrophe took place is essentially unexplained, and it doesn’t matter anyway because the ruin of the world is so complete that they often seem out of recognizable time and space altogether.

And O yes, I got misty eyes, cough, cried once or twice not because seeing the death of humanity but rather foreseeing how Hollywood is gonna make out of this terribly fantastic take on life and yet managed to be so profound.

Why Don't You Like Me?

2009-11-22T14:40:00.004+08:00

Sometimes I wonder how important is it for everyone to like me. I know it's incredible shallow and stupid to expect everbody to like and approve everything I do, but knowing you do get attention, once in a while, makes a lot of different, don't you think? Shamelessly, I want to feel included.

While trying not to be the egomaniacal, universe-revolves-around-me kinda friend, I aware enough to know I want to be the centre of this 'little' circle.

That is why, lately, it bothers me a lot when friends kept on 'forgetting' to include me in their get-together or social events. I should expect excuses to my quiries would range from "We thought you were busy", "You wouldn't enjoy it anyway" to "It's raining, we don't want to bother you", but when the excuses went a little too far-feched to be believe in like "We forgot", I am beginning to wonder whether it's all about me.

Maybe I am paranoid, or maybe I am not, but the fact is I haven't even seen some of them in months! (name that rhyme with schearman)

OK, I really should stop whining now, it probably wasn't as bad as I make it up to be. Maybe I am really an overacting paranoid. But for whatever it is, from now on, I have come out with my own 'policy' when it comes to friends. It's called DON'T CALL, DON'T ASK, UNLESS INVITED. People, well, as it says, it simply means that I won't call or ask to join anything anymore, well, unless I was clearly invited. Otherwise I take it my presence isn't needed.

A tad too emotional eh? I know it's bound to be controversial, but I hope everyone understand that I was merely protecting my interest, if you know what I mean.

Come on, it's not like you don't see this coming miles away already.

And admit it, it's a little catchy, isn't it?

What Life Would Never Tell Us

2009-11-16T18:46:00.003+08:00

I am worried about my mental health. Of late I have become increasingly forgetful and quite likely...um, deranged!

I had a Oh-So-Classic-Me experience the other day – my brain was stolen. I was at the petrol station when suddenly I couldn’t start the engine. I couldn’t even roll down the freaking window!

My “A-ha” moment only came much later when I was franticaly flipping through the car manual and read under the subject “Driving for morons”. As it turned out to be, I accidently locked the steering and – damn - forgot how to go about and unclock it! How's that for a little revelation? A terrifying age-related phenomenon like this would most likely to cause maximum humiliation, I tell you.

No, I am not going senile, I just need a mental work-out. That’s one of the things I need to figure out from today on. And No, carrying a little black book around would be out of question - it's trampling my style, people! Maybe, just maybe, I should seriously consider a brain transplant.

Annoyingly, it’s easy to remember useless stuff like the words to a crap song like 'Put A Ring On It' or what Akon’s middle name is but our own IC number can be real struggle. Sigh, I don't get this, but you know what, just like what Ms.Whitney Houston used to sing, “Life never tells us the whens or whys”, so I guess I should let it go.

I never used to be such a ditz. Now, I can barely even remember how to pull a steering?

Wait, did I say I forget how to unlock a secured car steering?

You Really Don't Know What You've Got.....

2009-11-08T15:18:00.004+08:00

People come and people go. That's one of the things that kinda certain - like death, love and to some......taxes. It's an unwritten promise to us as long as we believe in Heaven and Hell.

For as long as I live in this world, I've welcomed a lot of people in my life and for that matter too, quite a number of people that I had, urm, you know, disowned. I don't blame anyone for how things had turned up. I believe they happened for a reason and most of the time I love to believe it's for my own good too.

So I don't have any regret. I just move on and go on to other things. It has saved me a lot of headache. Now that I've grown wiser and have a good grasp of that little fact of life, I've come to another revelation - other people move on too!

See, I told you my boss is leaving soon. The one that I adore soo much. The one too, that at first I refused to believe the news and the one I chose to ignore.

Now, I have come to my realization, I was being unfair. I am beginning to understand why would she want to leave and I - eventhough still digesting - would 100 % support her decision. If it's good for her career so who am I to be in her way? I certainly won't be the one who's going to stop her dream.

I guess I was a little bit selfish then. I admit, it was more about me than it was about her. OK fine, she's probably the best boss anyone could ever has, more like a friend to me. And when she nurtures, she is reminded me of my favourite teacher, and when she gossips, man, isn't she really gossipping! She's the one who taught me 'there's only so much you can do about your work, but the real life only starts at 5.30pm!

Boy, I am soo gonna miss her presence. I wish her well, I really do.

It got me thinking, maybe she's going to miss me too?

I Got Ego!

2009-11-01T18:00:00.004+08:00

I am a very private person. I don't do Oprah-style, heart-to-heart revelation about my own life. I don't whine around unnecessary and I hate sharing my "deep thoughts" and "inner feelings" to the world, except maybe to a few close friends and family members that I truly trust - even then I exercise restraint. OK I got ego!

In many ways, I guess that's why I have this blog - where I can "whine unnecessary" to exactly 'no one', plus I don't have to be coy about it. What I really mean is (cough!) I don't tell people about my failure and I don't share my problems to others, well, at least not until they find about it themselves! Again, my gigantic ego!

So, as I told so many times through many channels and mode of communications before, last night was our Annual Corporate Dinner, in which I was one of the committees.

OK, let me first to break the news to you - last night was disaster, just to put it midly. And how to put it as it was?

First, the show ran a little bit longer than was planned for and I could clearly see people, especially VIPs keep fidgeting on their seats. Then, the so-called 'gimmick' fell flat on the nose, the hotel refused to give a much bigger changing room for the performers, the AV people made a giant mistake by putting the projectors in front of the stage and I donned an mismatched sequined orange shawl (horror!)

But the biggest blunder of all, anyone could ever imagined, was the main highlight of the evening - the invited, award winning singer/performer failed to turn up. The reason: tak sihat, sedang berehat di bilik.

It was one of the nights I would like to forget - forever. I wish I knew a good neuro surgeon.

I maintain I am a very private person. So for those who's planning to see me soon, please don't ask me about the details. This is the most 'intimate' details you could ever get from me. Allow me to digest the whole debacle first before I can even show off my humiliating self around the block again.

What Am I Going To Be?

2009-10-25T17:38:00.002+08:00

OK, it's true. Ever year, when it comes to our corporate Annual Dinner, I freak out. I mean, literally, I'd be churning out a pool of flop sweat the size of lake. I don't freaky know what to wear! And what's with this year oh-soo-lame "theme" - Nusantara Klasik? Gosh, I think I might as well wear my PJs!

I know I shouldn't be all over town over trivial things like this. But I love to think that my reputation is at stake right know (as if it's already in place!). I imagine people in line waiting with bated breath on what I am going to turn up as - kinda give them what they want, something for them to talk about (I know it's bad!)

And best of all, imagine too if I were to win that coveted "Best Dressed" award. Man, it would be sooo awesome! Ehem, I hate to admit I am kinda a slave for the attention, although its not necessary healthy.

Come what may, I am game. And right know it a toss between this.....

...Or this.....

What do you think it'll be?

L.O.V.E.I.T.!

2009-10-18T13:21:00.004+08:00

Note: this is probably going to be a terrible piece of music review. So please stop reading if you adverse to morbid fanatism.

The fact is I am the biggest fan of Mariah 'The Voice' Carey! (probably not the most manly thing I ever admit). And suffice to say, when the lady announced that she would be releasing her new record a couple months back, I was super excited…pretty much like a fat kid in a candy store.

So my “opinion” may not be matter much to my detractors. Still, I am going to review the album for you anyway – I promise, only a 'few' paragraphs, no more – as I listen to it for the first time…or a thousand times later!

Memoirs of An Imperfect Angel – Mariah Carey *****

I Love the CD. This, probably her best CD yet since the biggest selling, "Music Box". It’s a return to form in the sense that all the music here are all about Mariah's biggest asset (her vocal, perv!) on the syrupy sweet R&B pop and ballads of her past. Songs like 'Languising', 'Angels Cry' and her second single 'I Want To Know What Love Is', probably won't be rocking the current Billboard chart but enough to make the 'old-Mariah's fan' like yours truly happy like a swine in a mud.

However, Mariah has grown wiser this time. From the opener - the best opening track ever! - "Betcha Gon' Know", you can instantly hear that, lyrically, this album is slightly less "girly" and too "rainbow-ish". This is an edgier Mariah, speaking to the darker sides of life and love. I must say all the tracks convey remarkably the hurt and anguish lost love can bring, and it is my opinion that when Mariah connects with the raw emotions involved with common life-circumstances, that is where she is dynamite for me.

Other gems I think have a huge potential for being standout singles are "H.A.T.E.U.", "Standing O", "Ribbon", "It's a Wrap", and "Up Out My Face". One little "complaint" from me is that there is hardly really fast or uptempo songs in this album, except all the remixes version of 'Obsessed' but then I guess hence the title!

In conclusion, the best bit about the album is that this time Mariah really "sings". No more distraction from her annoying rappers/guest appearances. I hope Mariah would continue to focus on what her fans want to hear...her voice. She is still one of today’s most gifted vocalists and she could sing about fried chicken and watermelon and still make grown women and men cry.

Unfortunately the same can't be said to a certain so-called "Diva" who'll be coming to our shore this month. Ooopsie!

Moving Away......

2009-10-10T12:50:00.002+08:00

No need to call my phone cause I changed my number today
A matter fact, I think I'm moving away (away)
Sorry, the frustrations got me feeling that way
And I just keep having one last thing to say
And I just wanna hold you, touch you, feel you, be near you, I miss you baby baby baby..
I'm tired of try'na fake through, but there's nothing I can do..

(Mariah Carey on H.A.T.E.U from Memoirs Of Imperfect Angel)

There are many reasons why you might choose to move away and making this decision can be difficult. There may be pressure all around to make a decision one way or the other. It is important that you make a choice that is right for you.

It is normal to have mixed feelings about leaving. You may also be feeling scared or lonely.
It is not unusual to feel nervous about leaving your familiar surroundings.

But I know I need to do this. I need to move on and move away.

I will let you know my new home soon.

Watch this space!

My Birthday – What Did I Do All Day?

2009-09-04T15:38:00.001+08:00

Yesterday was my Birthday. O yeah. I didn’t go to work. In fact, I am taking the whole week off. It was the day, the week in a year I usually feel neither- here-nor-there. I was happy. Still am. Maybe a little bit sad. OK, mostly sad.

I know I can be overdramatic sometimes. Fiercely in denial even. But as my mother or any other person who loves me would constantly nag to my ears, life’s got to move on. So I just pretended it was just like any other day. Like the rest of 364 days. Normal.

But, try as I might, those birthday messages/wishes were very had to ignore. Sigh.

4.46 a.m: Woke up, had a slice of bread and a cup of coffee.Took a dump.

6.01 a.m: Cleaned myself. Went to office (to sit for an Exam).

1.02 p.m: Cleared off some pending works. Went straight home.

1.36 p.m: Dozed off.

3.14 p.m: Watched TV. (Let’s see, a re-run of ‘Every Loves Raymond’, E!’s Hollywood True Stories, History Channel’s The Lost World and Disney’s Phineaus And Ferbs, how’s that?)

4.55 p.m: Checked the internet. Emails. Facebook. Mariah Archives (Strictly for research), Chatting etc.

5.48 p.m: Run a few errands. Bought some groceries. Checked out Bazaar Ramadan.

6.59 p.m: ‘’Alone time” in the bathroom.

7.21 p.m: Buka time. Most days, I’ll go with the liquid meal like cendol or laici or cincau and a handful of salads or dates but yesterday, I went for “the whole nine yards” spread. Well, imagine what a big grizzly bear would stock up right before wintertime as they go for hibernation....you get the idea. It’s my Birthday, dammit!

8.34 p.m: Read my two novels I just got last week for about an hour. Hope I can finish them before Raya. (I dig ‘The Lovely Bones’, what a masterpiece!)

9.47 p.m: TV time. (I can’t recall any show!)

10.59 p.m: Curled up in my bed. This is actually my favourite part of the day. The bed is warm and toasty and I get to hang out with some of my favourite items – Kiki and Lulu. (Dont you judge me!)

11.13 p.m: Cried myself to sleep.

Next year, same time: Wake up, take an aspirin and do it all over again. I am in rot!

I Am A Mad, Mad Man!

2009-08-27T19:23:00.003+08:00

It is all started with this “friendly”, seeking-help email, and my faith in finding the life’s little joy in everyday problems was officially over.

-----------------------------------------

To whom it may concern,

I tried to reload my debit card (Tune Card) via online service (CIMBClicks) this morning. The amount was successfully deducted from my CIMB account but what mystified me is, up until now, it doesn’t appear nor has been reflected in my TuneMoney account.

Please assist me in checking on the root of the problem a.k.a Where the hell is my money?!!

Details of the goddamn transaction are as per below, if you don’t mind my tone:

Date/Time : 26 Aug 09, 10:14:13
FPX Transaction ID : *******************
Seller Order No : *******************
Authorization No :********************
Seller Name : TUNE MONEY SDN BHD PREPAID
Buyer Bank : CIMB Bank
Amount : RM*****.**

And please, don’t make or even entertain the prospect of asking me to call you or CIMB again, or God help me, I’ll show you the absolute meaning of ‘being difficult’.

In closing, would you please advice me as soon as possible if you are still interested in doing business with me, or if what has happened here is your not so subtle way of telling me to do my business elsewhere

Thank you

Syed Mustaffa Syed Mohamad
0173***027

……………………………………

As the cumulative effect of all this nonsense began to weigh on me heavily, I became increasingly frustrated. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. More unsettling however, was the fact that I’d been through far more serious challenges and problems in my life and had come through with my peace of mind intact.

Why was I now feeling so miserable? So hopeless? Sure, a lot of little annoyances, mostly with our stupid online banking service, can grate on you, but the angst I was feeling deep inside certainly didn’t seem commensurate with these rather pedestrian problems.

I mean, what is wrong with me, lately? Really.

Mus’ Pet Peeves No. 2: I’m Incurably Unthinable!

2009-08-17T00:03:00.005+08:00

I love to eat terrible food. What can I say? Nasi Lemak, Ramlee Burger, Mee Goreng, Roti Canai, chocolate, ice cream, anything fattening that I can jam down my throat. And now that Ramadhan is just around the corner, I like to go to “all-you can eat” buffets, where I always feel obligated to eat what I perceive to be my money’s worth. O brother, trust me, for months right up after Raya, all I can wear is maternity clothing.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is all the weight I gain always goes right to my gut. If the weight would just distribute itself evenly, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t mind if I was a well-formed fat guy; that would be OK. But all my weight goes right to my stomach. So if I am not careful, I end up with skinny legs, skinny arms, and no shoulders, but a big, fat gut. Euww.

Truthfully, I hate dieting. But it’s really not just about a diet. I believe, it’s more about changing how and what you eat. It’s not a temporary fix to enable one to slip into one’s leotard by the weekend, but a complete overhaul of one’s eating habits. But let’s face it, if you are not ready to change your eating lifestyle, you are not ready.

Case in point, a few months prior, my sister had tried to get me interested in dietary health by giving me a book on nutrition. I poured chocolate syrup on the book and ate it!

It's hopeless. I am incurably unthinable!

Mus' Pet Peeves No. 1

2009-08-10T08:05:00.002+08:00

I went to see this movie the other day. No, not “see”, strike that, I was trying to see that goddamn movie the other day. I would have posted a review here today, except that as usual, the theater was filled with nothing but ill-mannered idiots conversing at high volume during the film, I ended up being clueless and too peeved to recall anything about the movie at all.

It never ceases to amaze me how loudly, and how often, people talk during films these days. When I was a kid, people got kicked out for coughing. Now it’s like Mardi Gras in there, but less inhibited.

I supposed there are many reasons for this horrifying trend, such as introduction of VCD and DVD players, when people watch movies at home and talk to each other throughout the film, and many aren’t bright enough to realize that carrying this behavior over into theater where others are trying to watch the movie is incredibly inconsiderate and inappropriate. It’s not a matter of a few folks whispering occasionally. Most movies I attend at cinema nowadays sound like the floor of the stock exchange.

I don’t care if you are having a heart attack, you can drag yourself out to the lobby and quietly call for an ambulance. Anyone who did talk would be immediately treated to a twenty thousand-volt burst of electricity sent through their seat. Their next of kin could then claim their ashes quietly once the film had ended.

And that’s how the public cinemas should be, quiet and grave.

The Adventure of A Man With Freakishly Large Feet

2009-08-04T11:14:00.009+08:00

The great thing about being a man is that you can go shopping and get all the things that you want in less than an hour and you can do it completely alone.

Unfortunately, shopping is almost always man’s least favorite occupation. That’s part of the reason why when he goes shopping; he buys enough to last him for the next 10 years.

Well, unless if you go shoes shopping for a SASQUATCH!

Having rated ‘shoes shopping’ on a par with having a prostate examination by a doctor with cold hands, I am glad to announce my three weeks cross country shoes hunting quest finally ended last Sunday afternoon. I finally found the pair.

I am beat. I usually found the stress experience while shopping ranks with the kind of stress experienced by a police officer dealing with an angry mob in a riot.

And don’t even get me started of the RM amount spent on this entire ‘little adventure’, that inspired a humiliating “experience” on its own……

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

(*Mus* here is not someone I know)

Mus were in the department store looking for shoes – a very big one.

“I want this pair with size 11,” He said to the sales assistant. She showed him a pair costing RM350.

‘That’s a bit much,” said Mus, so she returned with a slightly more affordable pair of RM250.

‘That’s still quite a bit,” Mus complained.

Growing disgusted, the sales assistant brought out another ‘economy’ pair.

Mus grew agitated,”What I mean,” he said, “Is I’d like to see something really cheap”.

So the sales assistant handed him a mirror.

The Blood From My Bleeding Ears

2009-07-27T10:37:00.005+08:00

What a paradox; humans go to war and argue thinking that we know and own everything, while the world holds more than we can comprehend, like ‘why do we let this guy sing?’.

Now, I am not so sure if he was crooning or howling – but either way, yech, double vomit, throw-up, burp, and lingering acid reflux. I mean, someone better hose him down.

On no, wait – that happened last week.

Oh yeah, genius, that’s me. Last Saturday, Hasmiron, Sham and me were went against our parol officers’ wish – to not go near 30m parameter radius of any karaoke joint! - and sing! (Which undoubtedly sending professional vocal coaches scurrying to their textbooks to discover whether some random incoherent, gibberish is an actual ‘singing’!)

I don’t really need to go into all the reasons why would anyone want to shove a mini-hot curling iron in the ears and open it, but suffice to say when we do, garage doors go flying, cars combust and dogs run into traffic. We sound pretty much like a bunch of hyenas on helium.

No, I don’t mean to exaggerate but If you were there with us, everything will become clear to you - you’ll wish you could shove your ears with a hot curling iron too!

I mean, how else did I write this post without using the blood from my bleeding ears?

Who’s That Sad, Lonely Guy?

2009-07-23T07:55:00.006+08:00

Who just went to his graduation day alone? With no friend and family to cheer him on? Think you know who the loser is? Need some clues?

1) He tends to be a little bald and looks as if he has been badly shaken up in a bus accident.

2) He leans against railings a lot and stares off in the distance with tears up in his eyes.

3) Caught napping throughout the program and was delighted to wake up and found his name call up just in time?

4) Took pictures of himself with camera timer?!

This post is written not in celebration of his education milestones, since obviously there is not much to celebrate and no one to celebrate with. But to let you know that someone is aware he is out there. And that he is not alone. There are millions like him, even though he has only a small chance of meeting one of those people – who celebrates their important days alone.

You think this is sad? YOU THINK?!!

The Renaissance Man

2009-07-20T08:19:00.001+08:00

Something terrible happened to me last Friday afternoon, so terrible it gave me nightmare for days. I thought I was losing it. No, no I won’t tell you what happened. I won’t give you the excruciating details here - at least not here. I believe sometimes, something best not discussed or talked about out in the open, because it would bring no one any good, other than just pain and confusion.

And you know what, in fact, I really don’t know what happened. I’ll probably spend a good portion of the rest of my days wondering how I went from, “I am so awesome and nothing could go wrong!”, to “Everything I do sucks!”.

But I guess that’s good, because now I am starting a new life philosophy. Instead of getting bogged down in the soul-numbing sadness of the situation, I’ve determined that I will take time to do all the things necessary to vastly improve my life.

Starting today, I’ll work out every morning, read classic literature before I go to sleep, organize all my CDs, sign up for karate class, donate time to charity and just generally become the Renaissance man I’ve always known I was deep inside.

Damn!

Forty eight hours later, I realized that I was once again experiencing the state of confusion that always comes over me when something inevitably goes awry in my life. You’d think I’d known how to handle it by now. It’s been the same story for most of my thirty years.

Man, this is much harder than I thought I could ever handle. Tomorrow I am going to face all my colleagues and probably force to spend the rest of my Monday morning re-telling of what actually had happened.

I know I’ve never been fond of Mondays, but tomorrow would be even more so.

Inside My Heaven

2009-07-14T07:17:00.010+08:00

Surprisingly, not many people actually got a chance to see me without my shirt on. I know it’s everyone’s lost but I kinda put a certain high price for a privilege of such heavenly sight. And NO, not because I have a complex body image issue, and I am most certainly NOT a delusional wool-coated glob of fat, like some of you might've suggested.

In fact, quite contrary, I can say with all the confidence, I feel very much secured in my own skin and I love my body. That’s right. I may not have the body of Greek God proportion like Sham has, or serpent-like flexibility of Hasmiron’s, but I always know, there is something I got that others don’t – in water, I am buoyant. So haters, shoo, go away!

Last weekend, for two days straight, Saturday and Sunday, I made time to have a splashing good time with my dear friends Sham, AJ, and Eirul at Shah’s condo pool. It was a blast. We churned out endless laps of pulling and kicking, and learned to swim with the effortless grace of fish (Or in our case, like a certain aquatic mammal!)

I don’t know about my friends, but I simply love to swim. Swimming makes me feel good, both physically and in overall satisfaction. It makes me much calmer and less uptight. I know it sounds weird that this comes out from my mouth but swimming is really mentally engaging as it is physically pleasurable and enormously gratifying.

I have reached a personal nirvana where every lap I swim feels blissful. Because I’ve never been a gifted athlete, I became convinced that the joy of swimming well is attainable by everyone, rather than a gift reserved for a talented few. So friends who haven’t got acquainted with Shah’s pool yet, come on over this weekend and splash away with us. (This is an unpaid ads)

OK, now if all of you are done "savoring" every inch of my body, show some class and get a room!

Monster On Wheel

2009-07-13T07:20:00.006+08:00

You may have noticed that I drive an imported car – a continental one, to be exact. And I know what you’re thinking, “Mus, you’re a big Hollywood star. You can afford any car you want. Plus, it’s ridiculous seeing you squeezed in that shoe box wheeler. You’re Mus The Great, for God's sake, you should get a bigger ride.”

All valid points, but as a tree-hugging, panda-loving environmentalist, I am especially sensitive to human’s exploitation of the environment. My Korean-made baby, being extremely fuel efficient and emitting fewer pollutants than other cars, can help lower our reliance on oil and can help slow down global warming.

Plus my car is trendy. In addition to myself, Leonardo DiCaprio, Cameron Diaz, Hasmiron Hamdan, Azreena Zakaria, Herman Mizar and Shamutiara all drive compact cars. So YES, I am quite happy with my car right now, and NO, I don’t think I would want to trade that little fellow for anything else anytime soon. Ehem,well, at least until the next (and the next, next) salary review.

Sigh! But I am a man with many, many wishes and I got (human-ly) urges.

A few days ago I saw this heaven-sent splendor parked beside my lowly ride and by Golly, I was completely in awe. It was like a vision from up above. Such an unparallel, take-out-my-checkbook beauty.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days; fantasizing about how cool would it be if I could, just for a moment, squeeze and rest my bottom on its softy, first class leather seats and run my undeserving fingers through its shiny dashboard. Aaah, I could just imagine the joyous ride it would be, should I agree to mortgage my parents for one of those baby.

Man, I can go on and on talking about what exactly I am gonna do - a million of unpure, automative thoughts but I think I’ll just stop now; cause you know very well what an amorous, redblooded young man like me would likely to do next - the internet!

And oooh yeah, here are some 'sick' pictures of this baby I got from the internet to satisfy my “motorized” needs!

Now, If only I am still not living with that arsonist........!

The Worst Friend Ever

2009-07-05T15:52:00.005+08:00

Last week was probably the worst and the best seven days of my life. From the lowest point (my mom’s health scare) to the highest (got call from the Academy about my upcoming convocation in July, yeah!); unintentionally, I may have had disappointed my dear friends along the way.

Obviously I am no Angel (though sometimes I can be borderline Evil), and for that, I am writing this, in hope that, those who I have wronged last weekend (for not turning up for a couple of social events I've agreed to come), to understand why I did what I did. And I humbly beg for your forgiveness and understanding.

OK, the problem with me and my friends is complicated. It’s all started when someone invites me for something, to somewhere. As always, I knew I couldn’t come and yet I hate to disappoint them, so I’d say a provisional ‘yes’ while claiming a possible, but as yet unconfirmed, probably due to some imaginary “work” commitment. And then a couple of days later I sms back and say ‘I am sorry but no’.

Or more probably I act the real coward and ‘disappear’ for days and ended up disappoint them even more. Get it? See what I mean? Complicated.

The biggest problem with the invitations is how to turn them down. Accepting is dead easy. It’s turning them down that’s so difficult. There are many invitations that I feel obligated to accept for reasons that range from a genuine generosity in relieving someone’s loneliness to even death threat!

So friends, given how ultrasensitive I am to your feeling, if you call for invitation, the general principle would be to try and avoid putting me in a difficult position like an open question like ‘Mus, what are you doing on Friday night?, Oh I know you are free,right? So.....’ OK?. Now that’s a trap. So give me a get-out. It’s the right thing to do because it reduces potential social conflict. I may not want to come. It’s almost inconceivable, I know. But I might not. For whatever reason.

Man, I know how much you want to strangle me with my tie right now, but I feel really bad about it already. I really do. Again, I am sorry for being a jerk of friend. I promise I’ll try to be more direct with my answer.

Maybe next time I’ll just say, “I can’t come, it seems I’ll be watching televison that night”. See, I am EEVIIL.

Drag Me Out Of This Hell!

2009-06-28T15:52:00.005+08:00

After years of not seeing each other, Ginger and I finally reunited. And what a better way to rekindle our long lost friendship than watching a sucky horror B-movie together. Oh yeah, we love to “scaugh” (scare + laugh) ourselves silly and bitching about the movie a long, long after that; which in a way would compensate our sore disappoinment for not getting tickets for that new “Transformer” movie.

So, Saturday afternoon , right after lunch at his home we checked our brains out at the theater’s door and watched “Drag Me To Hell” and giving a new meaning of “hell”to the people who sat next to us. First of all, the movie was a apocalypstic train wreck. We laughed so hard throughout the movie that I think I broke my laughing bones (if there’s such thing exists).

I mean, come on, you know you are in a hell hole when the main character debates whether or not she should keep the button that cursed her or ultimately give it away to someone else. Those of us in the audiences chose to debate the far more provocative questions of whether the demon, in fact a jackass or rather a saviour that killed her and put out of our misery once and for all.

And the visual effect wasn’t that any good either. The last and final scene where they got this big, the-Exorcist -inspired scene with people twirling, spinning up and about in the room, the effect was so-so at best, which is like a perfect storm of movie suckiness.

My favorite part of the movie, though, would have to be that medium’s reaction when he figures out that our lady in distress was cursed by the most powerful, ancient demon, Lamia; he looks like a chimpanzee slowly discovering that the reflection in the watering hole is actually him.

But all bitching aside, like I said to Ginger at the end of the day, the most important thing about the whole experience is the chance for us to hang out together again like we used to do, the companionship, the laugh, the bad movie and all. Man, I am glad she’s back.

Ginger, in her bad, baad hair day.

But in an extremely rare good day, Ginger, is a handsome woman; compassionate, charming, attractive and shapely, too. Now, a lot of people confuse my ability to recognize Ginger’s many qualities as “having a thing for her”.

Nothing could further from the truth, for the most part. Ginger is my friend and the two of us share a very special friendship that I wouldn’t jeopardize for anything. Even if she’s experimented with mind-expanding drugs or I had saved her life or something. The point is, Ginger and I are great friends. And that’s all.

Well, unless you’ve heard her say otherwise?

I Believe In Judgment Day

2009-06-24T14:51:00.002+08:00

I drive to work everyday. Yep, just like any other snobs who repulsed the idea of sharing our private space with strangers in public transport. And of course after spending almost a quarter of our monthly income on gas and toll, we have to look for the cheapest mean to park our sub-50k car.

And Oh Boy, what a price I have to pay for being a tightfisted snob. On Monday, all four caps on my tires’ tube got stolen. Damn!

But being a person who staunchly believes in Judgment Day and afterlife; instead of throwing nasty hissy fits by the roadside, I just prayed that evil-doer got rotten in Hell. I am sorry, but those four caps cost me RM10.00.

Oh yeah, RM10.00 that I could have just dumped it in the ravine or burned it in this scumbag’s a**hole instead; ‘cause as per yesterday’s afternoon, all my new set of caps got stolen YET AGAIN.

God, I sure blew my stack this time, I was so angry I could spit bullets. Only two nights ago I was griping about it for a good 20 minutes with my close friends and now it happened again.

Piss off doesn’t even begin how angry I am right now. I seriously need to look for new parking spot now or start (gasp!) paying for better, nearer place to park my car.

Oh sure, everything is my fault!

I Swear, This Is Not PD!

2009-06-20T18:24:00.010+08:00

Let’s face it, our working life is pretty thankless. We toil for 12 hours a day, largely for the benefit of the richest 1 percent of population, and then we come home to craps like 'Kimora’s Life On The Fab Lane' and 'Paris Hilton’s New BFF'. We are an inch closer of throwing out of the window our TV set everyday, but we quickly remember that 'E!’s Top 10 Fabulous Holiday Destinations' is next. So the TV throwing can wait another day.

Obviously I needed a break. I needed fresh air, sunshine and a chance to get away from it all (and that means parading around in my tentlike shorts, putting my belly on proud display at a beach). And what a better way to accomplish all that than to take an old-fashioned, four-days-three-nights vacation in a certain remote-but-exclusive part of the country?

This vacation costs a fortune that I truly believe only emirs can handle them comfortably. It was so expensive I felt a certain pressure to run around like a madman, trying to have fun every second of the day. Since there isn’t a hell of a lot to do at the beach (the whole idea of the beach is there’s nothing to do there) a conflict may arise , causing dizziness and vomiting.

And as the world struggles against the tsunami tide of credit crunch; for 'aristocrat' like Din, credit crunch is not in his vocabulary. “Credit crunch? What’s that? Is it a new brand of slimming breakfast cereal?”, exclaimed my partner in crime.

If you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it.

Ask anyone, your friends or family – to tell you what they want out of holiday and they will invariably tell you the same thing; ‘I want to spend quality time with the people I care; I want laughter, good food and fun’. It’s as simple as that. We all share the same vision. So if we want the same thing, why does holiday so often highlight our differences and divide us rather than bring us closer together?

Essentially, the answer is simple; because we’re different. Yes we all are. That’s why I’ve long accepted the fact and tried not to worry too much about those little things. Why get an ulcer over things that don’t matter?

Once I was at the beach, with the water lapping up against my shorts, I saw clearly that all man’s worrying is ridiculous since we are all just particles. A speck of tiny sand. Now, what’s the point of having to be flown back from an expensive vacation, a whipped and dejected man, as a result of worrying about all the money I have spent and those people I had short-tipped?

Man, I have another waay important thing to worry about. It’s called credit crunch.

It Wasn't Meant To Be

2009-06-14T23:11:00.006+08:00

Friday afternoons should be the happiest time in a week for me. I should be home by 5.00pm and be watching my favourite toons. I should be eating dinner by now while making weekend plans. It should be a joyful, most awesomest, super-fantastical-psychedelic Friday.

6.15am I was still trapped in Jalan P. Ramlee, where everywhere seemed to be completely clogged up in one enormous jam that stratched all the way down to Jalan Ampang.

Damn. Why there’s always something, somewhere: roadworks, a diversion, a wonky traffic in this maddening rush hour? Why? WHY?!!. Whatever it may be, I kept hoping it’d sort itself out in a moment and the next green would release lots and lots of cars and we’d all be rattling along, multiple lanes of happy motorists zoming out of the city.

No.

Still here

One hour ( I mean, seriously, one our) of heel-toeing-clutchwork-that-had-my-ankles-aching later, I was still on the same spot. Damn. I fiddled about with the radio to find a song, any song, but there’s only wittering, ‘slow moving on the........’. Oh come on, I mean, surely there must be some traffic moving somewhere. I thought, ‘If this goes on for much longer I’m going to start fretting’.

But then I reminded myself to not let the little things get to me. Not.Let.Them.Get.To.Me. And that was just about time too when I gazed out of the window and saw a sign - just a few meters from me. The sign from God.

KLCC parking. That’s it!

The wheel in my brain was immediately spinning. I talked to myself (I’ve done this a lot lately), ‘All I need to do is just escape to the parking, find my way to the exit to Ampang Elevated Highway and voila! I’ll be be home in no time’. Yes!

A-ha! Who would have thought of that? Pretty briliant idea, don’t you think? (Especially when it comes from the guy who once thought Toni Braxton was a guy) I was really pleased. So hurriedly I drove in, picked up the parking ticket and rushed to the other side of the exit. I was so happy about myself. I thought this got to be one of the smartest thing I’ve done, that no one ever thought about. I should get medal for this. Or patent the ‘secret route’. ‘I am such a genius’. Gosh, I simply couldn’t stop gushing about myself.

But as they say, good things never last. And the cruel reality will set in sooner than I thought.

F***! My ticket got rejected. Shock slammed me in the chest like a truck. (And now this is the part where I hate myself so much I wanted to die in a violent sex-gone-wrong accident). I forgot to pay the ticket at the autopay machine.

And by the time my puny brain realized this too, a dozen of impatient cars already lined up behind me, honking – increasingly irritated about the hold up.

I was breathing harder and harder till I was almost hyperventilating. I felt as though I’ve lurched into some evil parallel universe, where everyone would kill each other for sport. ‘I don’t deserve this, I am a good person, I pay my taxes and I love animals’. I chanted.

Apparently no sign from God this time for me.

Only after a few intense moment later, I managed to pull myself together in time and accepted the fact that there was only one right thing to do - get out of the car and face the consequences. So I turned off the engine, put my bravest front and stepped out of the car, causing a slight commotion at the back. I thought I would face a firing squad as they got their rifle f****** loaded and ready to go.

But alas, the best I could offer to these angry mobs as a rebuttal, was just a weak hand-waving like I was a second runner-up contestant in beauty pagent.

I felt slightly wobbly about the legs and slightly manic inside but I plodded through, passing all these cars looking calm while trying to ignore all the curses hurled at me. I headed to that damn autopay machine as quickly as possible just to get this tragic episode of my life over with.

Once paid for, I started the engine and sped off – running away from this excruciating, painful memory forever, far, far away. It should be a happy Friday afternoon for me. But it wasn't meant to be.

Damn!

Happy Birthday, Faizal!

2009-06-07T15:23:00.005+08:00

A couple months ago, Faizal lent me this book, which he mistook it as “must read” and “classic”. Even though, my guts feeling extremely doubt any remote possibility of either of those strong words, I decided to accept the challenge and read the book anyway.

And boy! What a laborious two months of eye rolling it was.

It’s about Samantha, a London lawyer, who left her high-powered career to become a housekeeper in a remote countryside; only to find out later, she was used as a bait in one of the UK's biggest corporate scandals......and (gasp!) fall in love in the process.

Woa! Seriously, Oh Come On!

A lawyer with an IQ of 158, who accidently becomes a housekeeper, solves the mystery of her sudden termination of service and saves her old office GBP50 million AND along the way, wins the heart of a hunky gardener?!? Man, you have got to be kidding me!

Honestly, I think the book is trying too hard to be popular among its readers, it ends up being somewhat contrived and predictable; attempting the usual feel good chick flick and finally ended up somewhat middle-of-the-road.

The author not only seems to enjoy murdering precious old-school romance, but also seems to relish jumping up and down on their corpses. How else can you explain the way the central male character/hunky love interest behaves in it, which speaks and acts in such a fabulously affected manner that it would set off the gaydar of a coma patient? Erkk...

O Gosh! And that loads of moony-eyed swooning in between makes me want to punch someone in the mouth too.

Fortunately, today is Faizal’s Birthday and I don’t think it would be wise for me to go on and on into details for all the reasons why I am not a fan of the book so much. (Though by now, I get an eerie feeling there’s already a little voodoo doll of me in his desk, impaled by drawing pins)

So I think I just stop this madness and leap to my feet and cry out;

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FAIZAL!!!I WISH YOU FABULOUS YEARS AHEAD AND MANY MANY MANY HAPPY RETURNS.

And since I have already had this nagging suspicion abbout his weird taste in modern literature, this year, O yes, I know exactly what to get him– two really good books (with cover of a man holding a gun on it).

Now, where do I put that 'Sex In The City' book of mine?

King Din And His Fondness For Potato Chips

2009-05-31T12:35:00.020+08:00

I have a housemate called Din. I’ve known him for a couple of years now and has been a very good friend of mine ever since. For as long as I know him, he’s always being helpful and extremely courteous; loves cats and intensely vocal against child pornography and same sex marriage. And it goes without saying he’s very well-liked and respected among his peers.....

....deep breath, well, as long as he’s not in a restaurant, hotel or any place with ‘Customer Is King’ plaque hanging on the wall. Things, sometimes, can be nasty.

And just not to let you miss out any crucial detail about him here - he has been working with one of the best and finest hotel in KL for 7 years! And Oh yes, he can spell EXCELLENCE SERVICE backward.

Understandably, he has a very high expectation of a la Burj-al-Arab service standard and a very clear vision of what he wants, that most people out there would mistake him for being ‘difficult’ or um,’ someone who thinks the world owes him a living’ and other 'colorful' adjectives that can’t possibly be printed here.

I, for one, still am adjusting seeing those poor unfortunate souls gets thrashed and mauled by him everytime we are eating out, but I know, deep deep, DEEP down, he means well.

Riight, anyway.....

Last Saturday evening we went for a dinner in one of the’good’ restaurants in KL Sentral. It was our first time there and given how fussy and nit-picky my housemate is, rightfully I was a little nervous.

After combing through the menu, I decided to give Chicken Tofu (with no sugar, no salt) a try (I am watching my figure!), while Your Highness Din ordered a simple Fish & Chips and French Fries. The waiter pulled out his little black book and seemed like jotted down dutifully all of our requests. Everything looked fine and dandy from the start so I rested my back and chatted casually.

A moment later the waiter came back, only this time he looked a little...jittery.

Waiter: Bang, we are out of fish. Would you like to try our Lamb Chop instead?

Din (his cheeks blushed with annoyance): No, I would not.

Waiter (astonished): I am sorry, sir?

Din: You heard me. I hate goats. And I am beginning to hate you, too.

Waiter: How about Chicken?

Din: Hate it too. Cancel my order.

His voice sharpened. My forehead was pressed hard against the heel of my hand. This could turn ugly.

Me (under my breath): For God's sake Din, we’re not in Vegas!!!

Waiter (after a pause): You’re right on both counts, sir. I’ll cancel your order.

Din: Wait! The chips and fries stay. I’ve always had rather a fondness for potatoes.

I've always had rather a fondness for potatoes? What was that all about?

Waiter (with new respect): You are hard to be waited on...but soo challenging.

OMIGOD! That was probably the bravest thing anyone in service industry has ever said about King Din. And I think he was just being mellowed.

I should record this. This will go down in history as ‘Din was served with potato chips for dinner and he doesn’t even mind!

I Am John Connor

2009-05-25T07:46:00.003+08:00

Mondays isn’t the happiest word anyone would like to use. We dread Mondays. It’s the start of a working week and we’re either still hung over from the last weekends’s awesome party or just discontent about our menial existance.

Me? I just discontent about MY menial existence. I don’t feel like working today. I want a day off. Everytime I think about what happened to me last Friday, I’d sputter into tears and self-hating cries.

I still can’t get over the fact I “offended the authority” last Friday afternoon. I hate detailing the life and redemption of a squeaky-clean, boy-next-door self but this I think is absolutely necessary, at least for my own metal health -- I was served with this.

I imagine this was the work of a thuggish, amoral cop who totes a handgun and parking tickets to strike down his foes. I bet too he has a nasty drinking problem and has history of domestic violence.

I supposed these no-good doers take their orders from a mysterious loom that dictates who gets summoned and which innocent souls’ car would get towed.

My weekend was literally ruined because of them. Big mistake. I guess they just bring out the John Connor in me.

I am not gonna pay. I think.

My Block Is On Fire!

2009-05-17T14:27:00.011+08:00

Sometimes horror announces itself in the smallest of ways - like when a bunch of people shouted, "Api! Api!” on your doorstep at the crack of dawn of Sunday morning.

It was 5.57am. I know it for sure cause I was wide awake. I had to pee. Little did I know, I won’t be heading to my warm bed anytime soon.

I hurried up outside to check out what the commotion was all about (please, people here in my block would yell anything to get on each other’s nerves) and to my horror I got the rudest shock of the lifetime. I saw fire. The smell of burning reached out to me and engulfed the building. The smoke had blotted out the light on the corridor.

I felt my breaths were getting shorter and felt the heavy weight of some nameless dread. I alerted Din and quickly grabbed whatever things I can get hold on to - my wallet, my car keys, my expensive handphone and a few CDs ( I’ll explain about that later).

I quickly ran to the stairs, unsure whether my feet would come into contact with the ground or if I would simply go on, right through it. My head was spinning; I thought I was going to faint.

Downstairs, a fleet of cars and fire trucks was parked around the building. They belonged to the police and fire department. The police car – blue and white with a light flashing on the roof.

Thick black smoke curling into the morning sky. I saw faces streaked with ashes and tears. The details are simply not that fascinating, it just that the sight of it tightened the knot in the pit of my stomach.

People say surprises have colorful mode of springing themselves but I could have never foreseen myself getting jolted like this - a bunch of feelings of edginess, drift, despair all meshed up together.

Thank God, no one was harms. The fire started right under the stairs. Four motocycles were burned down to charred. Twisted steel and rubbles were every where.

The cause of the casualty is still under investigation. But from the look of it, all things pointed out to arson.

Man, I feel like I am living in the Bronx.