Elkay

The survey

2008-06-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

Last month the UN conducted a worldwide survey with one question:

"Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"

The survey was a huge failure.

In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant

In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant

In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant

In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant

In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant

In South America they didn't know what "please" meant

In the US they didn't know what "rest of the world" meant.

from Sironi Peace

Pregnancy Pact?

2008-06-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

How badly do some girls want to have babies? Badly enough that 17 girls have made a pact to conceive and deliver at the same time?

US probes teen 'pregnancy pact'

Fucked Up

2008-06-16T19:04:00.000-07:00

Here's a real definition of having a shitty day:

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2008/6/17/nation/21573357&sec=nation

It's late, you just got back from work and your mom's pleading with you gasping her last fucking breath to help her.

Your mother.

Panic. You beg her to hold the fuck on.

And you run for help, screaming. Anyone?

You manage to find a car with four guys inside who ask you to get in so you guys could go get an ambulance together...

...before proceeding to BEAT THE FUCK OUT OF YOU UNCONSCIOUS AND ROBBING YOU...

In the end, you wake up 2 hours later and find your mom's dead.

What kind of animals would continue with what they're doing when they hear someone needs help and would die with that help wasn't given post-fucking-haste.

Whoever those fucks are, I hope their next heist or whateverthefuck it is they do fail to execute satisfactorily, resulting in their incarceration in a gay-only penal facility with major hard-ons for boy-flesh.

I also hope their testicles get cut off and stuffed in their eye sockets.

Fuck'em.

An update: http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2008/6/18/nation/21579551&sec=nation

Driven to Narcolepsy?

2008-06-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

One particular trait I find about yours truly is that I love to drive long-distances.

Give me a good car (preferably with automatic transmission), drop me off at a location and tell me you need to get to a certain spot and I'll drive ya.

Drive around the state of Sabah? Sure.

Tackle the North-South Expressway and to Bangkok? Done.

Drive you from KK all the way south to Kuching? Can.....

Provided you pay for the fuel lah...

Yeah I like driving. On these long-distance road trips, I hardly get tired or sleepy. Touch wood I know but it hasn't happened to me on all those trips for work and holidays.

Here's the strange part.

On shorter distances, I get bored if there's no one to talk to or to listen to.

Do you get sleepy or tired while driving? Of course you do.

Everyone does once in a while. Especially if you drink and drive.

Let's admit it. With the total disregard for laws against driving-under-the-influence of alcohol (on our part) and a similar slack of enforcement (on their part) on this same law, EVERYONE is guilty of drinking and driving at some point of their lives.

So, my question is, what do you do to 'throw away' sleepiness/tiredness/drunkedness before you drive?

In my experience, when you ask this question, it gets people animated and gets them talking.

Why? Cuz it involves things people put in their mouths lah....

And this post was actually inspired by this :

The Caffeine Nap

Sleep researchers at the University of Britain at Loughborough did several tests on fatigued drivers to compare the effects of different methods for a driver can use to stay awake. They put the volunteers in driving simulators while they were sleepy and let them drive. Some of the tests included rolling down windows for cold exposure, blasting the radio and slapping oneself in the face to try to stay awake. But what researchers found worked the best was a Caffeine Nap.

The Caffeine Nap is simple: you drink a cup of coffee and immediately take a 15-20 minute nap. Researchers found coffee helps clear your system of adenosine, a chemical which makes you sleepy. The combination of a cup of coffee with an immediate nap chaser provided the most alertness for the longest period of time in tests. The recommendation was to nap only 15 minutes, no more or less and you must sleep immediately after the coffee.

Most adult Americans drink coffee, and caffeine is possibly the most widely used and longest self-administered drug in mankind. Caffeine is a stimulant and is often used when people want to stay awake. The caffeine nap is an example of the paradoxical effect of many substances in the body.

What other methods have you tried to reduce sleepiness or the effects of alcohol, besides coffee? Do you really wanna drink coffee at night after clubbing? I know I wouldn't be able to sleep at all after a cup of caffeine-flavoured juice.

Believe it or not, I get a lot of veterans of the pint saying, "Sup tulang!"

Whuuuh?? You're asking right?

"Sup tulang" is literally bone soup in Malay. Some kind of broth where various sections of beef have been boiled for several hours. You can usually eat them with noodles of your choice.

Here's a pic:

Here's another pic of something simiar except this one's called "sup gearbox":

Do you really need to ask: Why gearbox?

Chinese like to stuff their oral cavities with something called bak kut teh which basically translates to big frikkin' pie.

Shit, I'm just fucking with ya.

It's actually pork rib/bone tea.

I swear it's true.

Your boner, sir.

Must be all the soup that's doing all the waking-up.

Another favourite after-booze meal for me and my mates is prawn mee:

Prawn + mee. I'll whack you if you need anymore description.

Seeing the recurring theme here, maybe all you really need to freshen up for that drive is this:

All the rest are just cotton-candy fillers.

How does your education kill your creativity?

2008-06-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

Growing up and going to school in Malaysia could be summed up in these few words:

Read.

Memorise.

Regurgitate.

And anyone who have ever been to school here would no doubt be able to relate pretty well to those three words.

Face it, the school system in Malaysia doesn't do much to bolster kids' curiousity and creativity.

To quote Robinson: "...by the time they get to be adults, most children have lost that capacity. They have become frightened of being wrong and we run our companies like that by the way. We stigmatise mistakes. And we are now running national education systems where mistakes are the worst things you can make."

Is our creativity up to snuff?

What's a Real Man?

2008-06-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

What makes a real man these days? Indulging my uber-human fantasies, I'm reading this right now by one of my favourite authors who also wrote Market Forces:

Nutshelling it, Carl Marsalis is the Blackman.

Not just because he's a Eurafrican (European of African ancestry) but because he's also a Variant Thirteen.

'Thirteens' are extensively-genetically modified alpha males: artificially bred and groomed for combat from a very young age. Possessing extraordinary speed and strength as well as vast and deep knowledge of armed and unarmed combat and insurrection, Thirteens are the planet's last super-soldiers, designed solely to fight wars and topple governments.

So, what happens during peace time? Well, for starters, it's very difficult to have single-minded trained killers with a strong distaste for empathy running free during peace time right? So like any 'right'-thinking society the world has become distrustful of these guys and decided that they should be rounded up and locked away. Either locked away or sent on to the Mars colony.

Enter this one guy, a renegade Thirteen, who has managed to stow away on a flight from Mars and is now running lose on Earth and predictably, killing lots and lots of people. In very gruesome ways. An example? On the 7-month flight in from Mars, he systematically mutilated and carved the bodies of the crew for meat with the help of some cryogenic technology. It was a long flight after all.

Now, Carl Marsalis, a bounty hunter of renegades for the UN, is the only other Thirteen who may be able to hunt him down and bring him down...

This story posits that after tens of thousands of years of social and biological evolution, human beings no longer needed to rely on the brute force of its male members for enforcing its social structures and hierarchies.

Back when we're still in our hunter-gatherer days, alpha males were the ultimate hot-shit of the day.

The society needed them to defend the village and bring back large meat.

So if you're an alpha male, you were the biggest, fastest and MEANEST one of the pack. Your fellow villagers needed you. And, you were the one leading the other alpha males to hunts and battles.

And, you got the most booty.

Cuz the women would go for the biggest fuck (mostly literally) they could find then, not because of the guy's charm or charisma or that he smells nice. It's because the women knew the biggest muthafucka then had the best chance of fathering strong children with the best potential to be the next alpha male.

Think of it as an early form of humanity's draft pick selection.

Now, in a highly feminised world, there is much lack of a need for brute force from individual human beings because society has in a sense gotten 'soft'.

These days, human males don't duke it out in the streets like in Martin Scorsese's 2002 Gangs of New York, and they don't fight wars in phalanxes and red capes. They do it these days through technology and legal 'discourse'. Today's first wave of the metrosexual male will not be the last.

But then.

What happens to this society when you insert several 'traditional' alpha males into the mix?

How would these ulti-males think? Or act in such a society that has lost the evolved ability to deal with them? Women on an instinctual level might be attracted to these men because of their innate 'manliness' just like most men are naturally attracted to the nubile young beautiful female.
Will these ulti-males be a threat to society just because of their genetic enhancement and alterations at birth? Thirteens for instance have been designed to act with pure malice and lack-of-empathy when it is needed, because on the battlefield, you'd have no time to think of the consequences of your actions, nor how the other guy feels. Just like, in the old days.

How would this be suitable in modern and 'civilised' society? The human capacity for paranoia, suspicion and distrust is nigh-unlimited and if the majority knew of these alpha-males walking with the propensity to violent (and worse) unpredictable acts, they wouldn't hesitate for a bit to put them away.

So What ARE the definitions of a 'Real Man' these days?

Looking around the web, I have managed to dig some lists, which can be quite varied.

AskMen.com says a real man is 'strong', doesn't cry, doesn't moan, doesn't complain and get this, doesn't get sick.

On the other hand, eHow.com says showing your more vulnerable side is acceptable if you're a real man.

"Show your emotions. Most studies show women think a man who can as easily cry as laugh and is not afraid to show his emotions not only to her but to the world classifies a man as a real man."

In his article, Tony Thomas says that the notion that 'real men' don't cry, don't show emotions and are not gentle are wrong.

"I guarantee you they had some deep-seated problems and had no idea what a real man is. Whatever the origin, those ideas of a real man were dead wrong."

In fact, the term 'real man' has become so convoluted that it's been made into a joke or a pejorative term.

For further reading:

How feminism destroyed real men.

How to be a real man: Tips, guidelines and rules to follow

David Rice on 'What is a real man?'

Empty Them Pockets, Mate

2008-06-08T18:44:00.000-07:00

Kung Fu Panda kicks butt!

2008-06-08T05:40:00.000-07:00

This was great! I thought it was the best animated movie since Finding Nemo.

Instead of a lengthy review, I'll just list my favourite parts here:

1. The intro

The style and the narration of the intro really pulled you in to the movie post-haste. Doing the intro like that in 2-D style was fresh yet, it had the familiar heart-pumping feel of good anime battle scenes.

2. Tai Lung's escape

I'd always love scenes of uber-powerful good/bad guys breaking out of impossible situations and the over-the-topness of this scene blew me away.

3. Po's chopstick training

This made me really think about how difficult it was for the animators to pull off and not had to be checked into any post-stress clinics. Dizzying speed and fun to watch.

8 Things I Hate About Kota Kinabalu, Sabah

2008-06-08T00:24:00.000-07:00

Kota Kinabalu in Sabah, Malaysia.

Come in. Smell it. Smell that air? It's clear, unspoilt air.

See those guys sitting in the coffee shop? Yeah, those 3 guys, the Chinese, the Malay and the Kadazan dudes, sitting and laughing and just hanging out.

That's muhibbah.

That's racial tolerance right there. In pure form. Sincere and honest.

See those green things standing over there? That's called a forest. One of the biggest in the world and one of the most diverse of plants and animals.

But KK, Sabah is just like my girlfriend here:

Though she is THE most beautiful specimen of the homo sapien alive on planet Earth right now she does have some baaaaaad traits that I absolutely hate like leaving her under-garments all over the damn place and expecting me to pick up after her.

(Trust me guys after the first couple rounds of fore-plays and role-plays, it gets tiring.)

Back on point.

So even though I love my home town Kota Kinabalu to bits and there ARE many things to love about it, I got here some favourite issues of many Sabahans to bitch about, starting with...

8. Bad Roads

Check it out. The THIRD flyover in Sabah. Ever. Or as some douchebags here call them: fly-aways.

Get it right people, when you FLY AWAY, your frikkin' toes lift off and stay up to the cheers of the multitudes.

FLY OVERS are sections of road that only make you believe you're lifting off. At least for the first couple of times when you drive that modified heap of a Kancil at 60 km/h anyway.

So this fly-over has 3 lanes each side, passing by the Karamunsing intersection where you get spectacular views of the Kompleks Karamunsing, the Tun Fuad Stephens towers and the EPF building if you're so inclined to be impressed. I'll throw in the ONLY LED advertising board in town here too.

But you know what?

They're crap.

No sooner do you see the new flyovers come up, the sections where they begin and end start to feel like you taking a speed bump up the ass at 160km/h when you're only actually traveling at 20km/h.

And we have got more pot-holes in metropolitan KK than your post-pubescent acne-filled face after eating 10 KFC Buckets. The Hot & Spicy ones.

7. Drivers here suck.

I know you only had the minimum ten hours of driving instruction before you're legally authorised to take the test for the driver's license.

I know you spent the wee hours of the morning backing and forwarding your car to get the hang of the clutch.

I also know you had to get your instructor and driver's test agent to give the JPJ a pitiful RM100 gift as an 'endowment of appreciation' to 'facilitate' your performance on the test.

I KNOW all these. It's an open secret. No problem ok?

But you still suck at driving. And no, that stupid 'P' license doesn't mean you can drive like shit and not use your signals and drive real slow on the right lane. That 'P' automatically makes you palui by default.

Drivers in KK suck. No doubt about it. It's like saying the sun rises in the East and sets fire on their incompetent asses.

No signals when they switch lanes. Throwing scraps of shit out the windows. Driving slowly on the right-side lanes during rush hours. Using the signals but don't turn. Tail-gating.

I can go on and on.

Don't even mention what happens when it starts to drizzle. You'd almost mistaken them for thinking someone's playing a practical joke and decided to make a blizzard in KK thus rendering all roads slippery and dangerous if you drive at more than 30 km/h.

Douchebags on wheels indeed.

The only thing that can possibly worsen the situation is when they get more kap-chais on the road like in Penang and KL. But even that's happening.

6. Illegal Immigrants and Stateless Children.

GET. THE. FUCK. OUT.

is the logical summation of ALL that's been said on this topic.

Here. Here. And here.

Look. I'm not heartless. I agree Malaysia's a better deal for many immigrants who wants a better life with a better job and a chance to get with that immigrant chick he was eyeing on the boat coming over.

But hell, if they're gonna start some shit when they get here, I'm all for the government mouth-raping them and getting them the hell out of here ass first.

But then, you have their offspring who are born after they have reached and settled here illegally on fake MyKads. These kids are not registered anywhere which makes them 'stateless', not belonging to their parents' country of origin and not citizens of Sabah or Malaysia neither.

Poor, poor things.

Until they grow up and start harassing folk and tourists as mentioned here and here.

Then they deserve the same treatment by my friend here:

5. Shitty decor.

Kota Kinabalu's got a great sunset thing going for them and the abundance of natural and planted greenery but let's face it. The rest of the decor in town BLOWS.

Lime green, sun yellow, chili red lights? With blown out bulbs?? Sphere's of light hanging with no discernible pattern??? What the hell? Have we been letting birth-blind folk put these up???

Don't believe me? Drive along Anjung Senja towards KK Waterfront for just a few glaring examples of these lighting effects and tell me your retinas don't kick you in the balls for affronting them with these displays of suck.

Trust me it gets worse than this.

4. Spitting

Sigh.

I shouldn't need to but I'll let Wikipedia explain this:

"Spitting or expectoration is the act of forcibly ejecting saliva or other substances from the mouth. It is normally considered rude and a social taboo in many part of the world, though spitting can still be occasionally observed in some places. It is possible to transmit infectious diseases in this way."

LINK

Does 'NO SPITTING' as a general rule in polite society even need an introduction anymore?

The answer is a big fat 'FUCK YOU, NO'.

C'mon people stop doing that shit! And for that matter, no strong snorting, clearing your phlegm and blowing out your nose within visual contact of another human being.

3. Parking is shit here.

Yes, it's true. A KK person spends 30% of her life looking for parking during working hours.

OK fine I was exaggerating about the 30%.

But it is true that parking space in the town centre is one of the shittiest in the world. Unless you spend some money and park in a mall or something but most of the time, you'd have banged out a decent length (2 pages) article by the time you manage to find a spot. You'd also have caused your potential client to question your punctuality.

Developers: Put up some more parking complexes. They make money too dammit!

2. Shitty/non-existent garbage disposal.

What's large, has wheels and pees whenever you see it?

That's right. A KK City Hall garbage truck.

If you're out for dinner on a weekday at 8pm, bring along your favourite piece of gas mask. Because once one of these passes you and you just happen to be having your meals in an establishment with outdoor seating, you'd heave up your entire dinner. Yes, plus some of your lunch.

Trust me on this.

Somehow with the cooperation of the people (i.e. their inability to properly dispose of their garbage in tied garbage bags) and the general willful ignorance of the garbage disposal authorities, these smelly behemoths scour the city with their (very infrequent) pick-ups, with leeching trailing after them.

You KNOW how that should work out, don't you?

1. Toilets. Nuff' said.

The toilets, oh my god. The toilets.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, Sodom and Gomorah had NOTHING on Kota Kinabalu when it comes to the vileness of its dirty toilets.

Washrooms and toilets in general here are the epitome of SHYTE and sometimes you can take that literally.

One friend of mine worked as a complex manager for one major shopping mall here: "In some of the ladies rooms, you can see SMEARS of red on the walls at crouch height."

I stopped him there.

And usually, there are no toilet paper in public toilets caused by the prevalent and rampant cheapskatism which compels ordinary folk to steal toilet paper.

Well, what else can I say but.

Make Kota Kinabalu, Sabah your next holiday destination. If you dare.

5 Most Insane Things Said/Done by Malaysian Ministers

2008-06-07T21:29:00.000-07:00

Malaysia is world-famous for some really awesome stuff. Having one of the best and most lauded Formula One circuits in the world, the tallest TWIN towers in the world, the beauty of our Kadazandusun and Malay women, the best prawn mee in the world, best roadside-food-stall-with-flies-that-won't-make-you-wanna-throw-up, blah, blah, blah.

But Malaysia's also famous for some of the craziest behaviour and shit-rivers that flow out of several ministers' mouth. So, damn the ISA and here's a short run-down of some really insane things said and done by Malaysian ministers in recent times.

5. (Former) Health Minister Chua Soi Lek promotes good health.

Young men everywhere in Malaysia who say that they have trouble getting 'it' up should now be suitably ashamed of themselves. And permanently retire their 'swords and keris'es' lest it be done for them. Slowly and painfully.

Chua of MCA held the post of Health Minister from 2004 to 2008 and he was a credible minister for that post as the dude was trained in psychology and psychiatry.

'Ah Lek' worked as a medical officer at Batu Pahat Hospital in Johor before opening his own practice in 1977. In 1990, he went full-steam in MCA politics.

Now, when the rest of us were still hungover and reeling from too much post-party-stress-disorders (choose your favourite ailment), the robust Minister of Health, on January 1 2008 promptly showed up all young 'men' around this here parts despite his advanced age, his ability for 'pleasing the ladies' as per the following video before resigning the next day:

4. Too Much 'Race-based' Politics, Naz?

Mohd. Nazri Abdul Aziz. Current Minister in the Prime Minister's Department.

Hatchetman? Guardian of Intregrity for Prime Minister Dato Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi? Or staunch supporter of UMNO?

Who knows?

But he's definitely hard-up for defending some notion of racial discrimination as evinced by the following video:

In his tirade, he uttered the phrase 'bloody racist' a grand total of 28 times.

28 frikkin times.

You'd think he'd made his point by the second time he said the phrase.

But by the end of the fifth time, he just came across looking like a childish prat in a shouting match with his cousin in some 'rumahtangga' before they're both pulled by the ears towards separate corners for some time-out.

3. Begging your pardon Dato's MPs, but what's bursting every month?

Ahh Malaysia. The South-East Asian bastion of religious freedom, racial integration and more recently, gender equality and opportunities.

And then you have this:

Backbenchers Datuk Bung Mokhtar Radin and Datuk Mohd Said Yusuf, two upstanding representatives of the people likened the leaking roof of the Parliamentary Hall to another respected MP. "Where is the leak? The member for Batu Gajah also leaks once a month.".

And yes, the calm and eloquently-spoken Bung Mokthar has also been appointed a Deputy Chairman of the Backbenchers Club.

Certainly, Malaysian ministers in Parliament are all about class and respect. And I've got a fucking bridge in Penang to sell to you.

For further information: http://femalevoters.wordpress.com/2008/04/20/malaysia-parliament-leaking/

2. Yet More Gentlemanly Manners for the Ladies

Here's yet another display of gallantry and gender sensitivity for the ladies of Malaysia when Kota Kinabalu UMNO pro-tem head Hj Roselan "Bonehead" Johar Mohamed said “If you cannot fight rape, better lay down and enjoy it.”

And that's not even the worst part.

Roselan uttered that piece of gem at an event jointly organised by the (read with me)

WOMAN, FAMILY AND COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT COUNCIL of Sabah.

Which should probably mean that there will be LOTS AND LOTS of woman there.

I'm surprised he wasn't immediately pelted to unconsciousness with used tampons after that.

1. Promoting Racial Unity and Integration, No Doubt.

The last (but not least) cringe-worthy comment comes from MP for Jerai, Kedah, Dato' Hj Badruddin Amiruddin who showed his racial tolerance and sensitivity for all Malaysians when he said, "Malaysia ini negara Islam. You tidak suka, you keluar dari Malaysia".

His strong grasp of both languages notwithstanding, Bad-ass-ruddin really exemplified Malaysia's strong drive for racial tolerance and mutual respect. And look, it's Bung Mokhtar again adding his own words of wisdom to the whole 'discourse'.

NOT.

Who Would You Choose?

2008-05-27T23:03:00.000-07:00

I just recalled a story someone told me a long time ago .

Actually, it was more of a test than a story as several companies (allegedly) pose this question to job applicants as a test of character.

It goes something like this:

You are riding your motorbike down a remote mountain road one day when clouds begin to loom overhead and droplets start to fall.

The nearest town either way is a long way off but you come up to a bus stop where you can park your motorbike and put on a rain jacket.

Strangely, you find 3 very important people sitting at the bus stop, sheltering from the rain: your mother, your best friend and the love of your life.

Here's the question.

Since you have a motorbike, you can only carry ONE person with you.

Now, WHO would you choose to take with you?

When you have your answer, scroll down.

It turned out that the applicant who got the job said he would give the bike to his best friend so that he could take his mother with him back to the nearest town while he himself would wait out the rain with the love of his life.

Can't Get Any Wiser Than This

2008-05-27T22:58:00.001-07:00

2008-05-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

A slice of conversation last night:

Me: So, what do you think of Jane?

Pretty girl Jane's just leaving the cafe. We chatted with her and her friend at the next table earlier.

The Other Dude: (Frowns) Umm... she's ok lah. But I prefer her sister.

Me: Ok, cool. Who's her sister?

TOD: Jennifer.

Me: Which one's Jennifer again?

TOD: Neeehhh... the one in Perth.

Me: Wow. Thanks man. That's like saying there's sand in the Sahara.

If

2008-05-15T23:58:00.000-07:00

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

- by Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936)

Friendship, Cooperation, Love

2008-05-14T20:41:00.000-07:00

A Baby's Hug

2008-05-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

I found this in my inbox today amidst major changes in my life at the moment. More on those later. But this article hit home and reaffirmed some principles I hold.

~A Baby's Hug ~

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly,Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray.

His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes.

His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.' Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.

Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo.' Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk.

My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; All except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door.

'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes.

His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck.

The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice: 'You take care of this baby.' Somehow I managed: 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said: 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.' I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'

I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.

I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter the Kingdom of God , we must become as little children.'

Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others.

The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in, does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.

Chicken

2008-03-01T23:56:00.000-08:00

She was in his arms, both of them sitting on his couch in the living room.

Their lips brush each other's, in between sweetly uttered words.

I was livid.

I was so damn pissed off. I only knew the betrayal. Especially from him.

They were oblivious to me standing some way behind them, lost in each other's embrace.

In my right hand, I held a chicken. Silent, I kept it steady with a bag over its head and it hasn't made a sound.

In the darkened room, they had not heard me until I spoke.

"I trusted you, asshole."

They whirled and eyes were wide and uncomprehending.

"You knew I love her and you went ahead and did it." I turned to her.

"I, I... no...", she began.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm angry at him," I said, gesturing at him with my free hand.

"You. I'm just disappointed with."

And then I pulled the hood of the chicken and threw it at him. I walked back to the other hens I had just outside the open door and took the whole bunch and lobbed them one-by-one towards the both of them.

He's deathly afraid of chickens.

I walked out with a smile on my face.

Fractured Conveyance 2

2008-03-01T22:26:00.001-08:00

The message beeped through as I drove pass the Tanjung Aru lights.

S: "Hey gym buddy, are you coming? Am here suda"

Me: "No, not today, sunday's bball day with the guys"

A small twist of fate and it affected my life for the next three weeks. If only I'd gone on straight pass the Finance Ministry intersection to Beverly Hotel's gym instead of turning right to play basketball.

Thinking back on that day, there was nothing else after that prevented what happened. The chances of it occurring seemed to jump as I got closer to the court.

It was one of those rare sunny days that we played on. More players turned up on the court at Taman Lumaku than usual. I think there were all together 15 people.

I'd been training hard everyday before that. Five days a week was spent at the Ujana Rimba. Sit-ups, push-ups, the whole she-bang. Hardening my body.

I think that's when the fatigue set in. Because, the body needs to recover after every workout. Even if it's only bodyweight training.

Moving into the paint on the left side of the basket, I was aware of Tim, the Australian guy playing with us that day, vying for the rebound with Dexter, though I only knew that some time after.

I swerved out of Tim's way, trying to get out of the bounds of the court but before I could, I was hemmed in by Tim as he lost his balance. In trying to get the rebound, he fell backward onto me, pushed by the momentum of the other guy struggling for the ball with him.

Falling and falling, I could not get clear of Tim and his back fell on my ankle, twisting it. That was the first injury. Within an eye-blink, I felt a second crush on another part of my leg as if I was experiencing a play-by-play of my something happening to me.

I screamed.

I have had ankle twists before but none of them hurt like this. I felt my body spasm. I continue to scream. Trying to reach for my leg as if it was a baby I was saving.

I did not know it at the time but the distal bone in my right leg has just been fractured.

(CONTINUES)

Fractured Conveyance

2008-03-01T21:51:00.000-08:00

How would you feel if you broke your leg or your foot? Or any other limbs?

Do you even find something like that fathomable if you have not experienced it?

When we were young boys, my brother indulge in mock-sprint challenges with our cousins. Dashing about 50 metres, they'd do it over and over again.

I have only done it a couple of times before I got bored with that game. My brother however, invariably beat our cousins and was quite proud of it. One day, he just tripped. And landed on his left elbow. Hard.

That put him in a cast for a month. He never got back to sprinting again.

The point is: even for us, his family members, it was a muted affair. I'd never really got to know his experience during those days with his elbow in a cast.

(CONTINUES)

My Name Is...

2007-12-25T22:41:00.000-08:00

Interesting Yolks, Keynoter Listings, Interesting Sky Lo, Keeling Ion Trysts, Keeling Snit Story, Kneeling Sits Troy, Kneeling Its Story, Kneeling Tits Rosy, Sleeking Yins Tort, Reeking Lints Toys, Sterile King Stony, Tensile Tong Risky, Entirely Kings Sot, Listener Go Stinky, Intensely Got Risk, Energy Stinks Toil...

(More to come...)

Changes

2007-12-18T01:07:00.000-08:00

W:

They are cooling off.
One for work, the other too.
But they are okay.

A:

The bonfire flared.
He got high, the other why?
Extinguished early.

A:

His hands are filled up.
Nevertheless, he's cool yet,
Others might not be.

M:

Looking cool, she tries.
But inside, choices await.
Easier when said.

Clappers

2007-10-08T06:06:00.000-07:00

Some people rob for pleasure. Some rob because it’s there. I’m a cop and I was working on a theft case one day and I needed to interview the owner of a school bell store where the theft happened.

This is the interview.

Me:

So I hear there’s been a robbery.

Owner:

Yessir.

Me:

What was stolen?

Owner:

My clappers.

Me:

Your clappers?

Owner:

Yeah, you know, those things inside the bells which make them clang.

Me:

The clangers?

Owner:

Yessir. We call them clappers in the business.

Me:

*A clapper caper*

Owner:

Whazat?

Me:

Nothing sir. Now, can I have the facts? What kind of clappers was stolen on this clapper caper?

Owner:

They were copper clappers.

Me:

And where were they kept?

Owner:

In the closet.

Me:

Uh huh. You have any ideas who might have taken the copper clappers from the closet?

Owner:

Well, I just fired a man. He swore he’d get even.

Me:

What was his name?

Owner:

Claude Cooper.

Me:

*Nodding* You think he’d-

Owner:

That’s right. I think Claude Cooper copped my copper clappers kept in the closet.

Me:

You know where this Claude Cooper is from?

Owner:

Yeah. Cleveland.

Me:

*Nodding* That figures.

Owner:

What makes it worse, they were clean.

Me:

Clean copper clappers.

Owner:

That’s right.

Me:

Why do you think Cleveland’s Claude Cooper would cop your clean copper clappers kept in your closet?

Owner:

Only one reason.

Me:

What’s that?

Owner:

He’s a kleptomaniac.

Me:

Who first discovered that the copper clappers were copped.

Owner:

My cleaning woman, Clara Clifford.

Me:

*Nodding* That figures. Now, let me see if I got the facts straight here. Cleaning woman Clara Clifford discovered your clean copper clappers kept in a closet were copped by Claude Cooper, the kleptomaniac from Cleveland. Now, is that about it?

Owner:

One other thing.

Me:

What’s that?

Owner:

If I ever catch Claude Cooper, the kleptomaniac from Cleveland who copped my clean copper clappers kept in a closet.

Me:

Yes?

Owner:

I’ll clobber him.

Taebo

2007-09-30T03:52:00.000-07:00

‘Nah… You try, you let me know,’ Ph said as she proffered the CD to me.

Um, was all I managed before she continued. ‘Sorry ah, it’s not a DVD. It’s a CD. The DVD’s with my sister bah.’

I was thinking that was the least of my worries at that point in time as I stood next to her desk, stupefied at the CD case I was holding in my hand.

‘Kau cuba saja,’ she insisted. Just try it.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay I will,’ I said.

In truth, I was personally responsible for getting myself into this. Because I was on my ‘exercise’ streak right now, she and I had been chatting quite a bit about fitness programmes that she’d been into before. The CD she’s just handed to me was the Basic edition of Taebo, founded and introduced by Billy Blanks, a 7-time US taekwondo champion. Taebo had been a major fitness trend in the late 90’s and she was one of its most enthusiastic practitioners, she said.

A side note: Ph’s husband was a real gym freak back in his twenties. This guy, as former personal fitness trainer at a large resort here in town, he had the works. The wash-board six-pack I wanted. The well-defined deltoids that you could scoop soup with if you could tear his arms off. The shoulders that were more like over-sized ball bearings. Those pecs that made fake boobs tremble. All in a well-sculptured Greek-godlike package that had the annoying habit of making men weep and women wet.

Ph’s husband, with all his well-formed fitness, had praised his wife’s body to me. He maintained she had looked like one of those superheroines you see in comic books when they were both into working out back then. Even though now they are both in their mid-thirties and had lost their energetic drives to workout in the gym, I could still see the telling shapes and shadows of their fitness. She was taller than the average girl in this town and had strong, long limbs that yet, moved with grace. She looks unassuming yet you knew she could suplex a guy and do her nails at the same time.

No, maybe not, but you get what I mean.

So, she said, to me. Give Taebo a try. Taebo had good exercises that would help me lose excess weight and ‘lean’ me down before any serious muscle building workouts.

On the other hand, I had no illusions about my own state of fitness and what she told about me next about her friend who tried the programme did not do much to reassure a first timer.

‘A***** tried it bah. Hehe… this programme is supposed to last twenty minutes kan…. The next day he came back to me, “what kind of workout IS this?! Oh my God!” Hah, after that, he could not move properly for one week.’

Oh. Good lah, I said to her. I also thought, Gee thanks, but I didn’t say it out loud.

It was only when I got home that it dawned on me that today’s the Mooncake Festival. My neighbour opposite me had a bunch of people over. My window was directly facing them and even now, I could see some of the guests sitting outside, chatting.

I had planned to do the Taebo thing in my room. I would not be able to perform many of the Taebo moves without also putting up a show.

So I pulled the curtains shut. No sense having one of them coming over later and asking, ‘you alright dude? We heard screaming up there.’

I popped the CD into my notebook PC and started the workout programme and laughed my ass off.

What got me was the 80’s style of leotards this Blanks guy and his ‘cohorts’ were wearing on the video. He had on a bright electric blue piece on that showcased his impressive pectoral muscles. The rest of them were wearing almost the same kinds of stuff. Funnily enough, one guy in the back wore one of them white uncle undershirts and a pair of real short shorts.

Anyway, I started to follow what they were doing on screen. Naturally, they stretched at first and that was easy enough. Then came the punching motions. It felt silly but hey, I was workin’ up a sweat.

I nearly knocked myself down on my butt when the sidekicks came. Shit, I couldn’t kick for shit.

The whole thing only lasted twenty minutes. In the end, I was winded but it was not too bad, I thought.

You know what TAEBO stands for? This Agonizing Exercise Blows, Okay?

Nah, I’m just kidding. The real name’s Total Awareness Excellence Body Obedience.

But I think my version’s better. Here’s another one they should have put on the CD cover: Take An Ecstasy Before Opening.

And I think I’m going to do Taebo again. But not with ecstasy, kids.

Across a Gap

2007-09-25T05:55:00.000-07:00

24^th September 2007

I turned around and zipped myself up at the same time.

Walking towards the sinks I caught a glimpse of movement outside the men’s room large windows. These windows were of those that were tinted brown; you could look outside and from a far enough distance no one could see into the latrine.

The bathroom windows of my building faced the other tower. What caught my eye as I rinsed my hands was a guy climbing out of one of the opposite tower’s windows. He wore coveralls that indicated that he’s one of the maintenance crews for the complex.

Built underneath all of these windows were small ledges that would not fit a normal size fridge and this dude was climbing out and looking shaky as he did it. I saw him stretch out and set a leg on the ledge a few feet from the open window he’s climbing out of. I knew he had to do that as the glass pane closer to the ledge could not be opened; it was the same on our tower.

I was alarmed and a morbid part of me said, this guy might fall and I’d be the first person to witness it. The building I was standing in had no shortage of jumpers. While most had been suicides and (alleged) murders, this guy I was looking at was just a maintenance worker. If he fell, it would have been the mother of all bad days at work.

Now, the guy was grabbing his stuff from the first window and making his way to the other side of the ledge towards the ladies room. Same thing again, only in reverse. He put his pouch on an open part of the ladies room window and slowly climbed up again. Same as before, most of his body was hanging precariously from the ledge before he managed to clamber into the building.

God, I’d never have bothered to look at that if not for my glasses.

A Job

2007-09-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

I’ve just accepted a free-lance job from one of my colleagues.

She’s right now in the process of acquiring an existing business that provides a full range of beauty treatments and she wants a new ‘look’ for it. So she asks me to do that for her.

‘I want to talk business with you,’ was how she started as she walked into my office.

She didn’t go a lot into the style that she wants. In fact, she didn’t say about it at all. But she did say she wants a new logo, a cool font for the business’ name and a signboard design.

‘You do what you want’, she said. Which is a lot, I thought to myself. I guess it’s for the better. Gives me a lot more leeway to explore what I think would be the right look for this beauty business of hers, an industry which I had absolutely ZERO experience with, personally and professionally.

And the punchline: ‘So later you tell me how you want to be paid, okay?’ she said as she started to go out the door. In a split second, she turns back and added, ‘But jangan terlampau mahal lah.’ Which is Malay for ‘But not too expensive lah.’

I like it when they are forward like that.

I didn’t need to think too long about it. I didn’t want monetary reward for this job.

I told her to come back, tore a scrap of paper from my notebook and scribbled:

EXERCISE MAT

PAIR OF 2.5 KG DUMBBELLS

PAIR OF 5 KG DUMBBELLS.

‘Cheh, so little?! That’s it? You can buy these things very cheap from sporting stores,’ she said after a glance at the list.

I wanted those things because I’d just started working out in my room. The dumbbells are pretty obvious but I needed the mat because I’ve been resorting to using bath towels to line the floor and that isn’t such a good idea.

I just grinned at her and told her to check the prices out first. Because if those things are as cheap as she said, I’d want to add on some items to bring the ‘remuneration’ up to a reasonable level.

Bah, boleh bah kalau kau, was what she said before going back to her desk. Loosely translated to ‘Can if you.’

I winked at her and went back to what I was doing on the computer.

Discipline

2007-09-23T07:58:00.000-07:00

I’d begun to confront a typical aspect about myself that I have never quite examined closely.

No, rest assured this is not about some body part of mine.

I have never been a very disciplined person. I have started on projects that I have plain abandoned. I feel no need to list them here. I just try to remember what they were and try not to repeat my past mistakes or failings.

In the past couple of weeks, I have begun writing a story I feel strongly about. In the beginning, it was a rush. I had all these ideas that I needed to type out. Which I did.

I started on the story structure, fleshed out as much as I could about the characters I would talk about in the story and read and read and read up on writing techniques from websites. Right now, I am getting into the second chapter but details in the first still elude me.

But lately, as I begun to workout in my room and with my job, I’ve been distracted from this project of mine. It’s not a very good feeling. As I have only just started with the exercises I feel really winded after that and all I want to do then is unwind and ‘unplug’. Watch movies, watch TV, surf the Net, read webcomics and not write the story. I’d been going out lately as friends from out of town want to meet up. For the past two weeks, I have also been really busy at work, staying late to finish things up.

I am starting to feel a distance between myself and the story I am trying to write. Also, something else distracts me from the story I am writing. I felt that I needed to write more as a form of practice in order to better write my main project. So I have started to write more random pieces and to put some of these pieces on this blog. These ‘side’ writings, to me, are distractions as well, although they are a necessary distraction.

Talking about work I have also accepted a job from a colleague to design a ‘look’ for her new business. This too, will take up some of my night hours.

I realize in the end, these are just distractions and I’m making up excuses for myself.

This is a promise to myself. I gotta have more discipline if I want to see the book to its deserved end.

It’s hard going though.

Exerciser exercising his right to exercise

2007-09-23T07:24:00.000-07:00

These days I find myself doing the strangest thing.

Exercising.

Yes, I have begun to exercise. On a regular basis. Not that it’s unheard of, me exercising. It’s just that these days it’s become a real goal for me. Namely, to have broader shoulders and to lose the flab that’s overstaying its welcome in my mid-section.

In the beginning – I think it started in June – I’d been doing walks from my home in Tanjung Aru facing the SM La Salle football field. I’d start by going past the field towards Tanjung Aru town itself and walking by the police station. Turning left towards the beach, I’d walk/run until Terminal 2 and then cutting across Horn Field towards First Beach Tanjung Aru.

Staying out of sight from my colleagues who work there, I would run into the adjacent Prince Philip Park until Medan Selera, a halal and very dirty eating spot. Further on past the Medan, you’d see an old Shell learning-traffic-laws for school children and I’d run straight past that too until I get to a section of Tanjung Aru beach with huge cement pilings that were driven into the ground where dirt meets sand. It must have been done many years ago. I wouldn’t know.

Inspired by parkour or free-running, I would climb onto the first of those pilings and try to walk as fast as I could without missing a step and falling down onto the sand five feet below. At the end of this make-shift obstacle course, I get to a large abandoned piece of cement slab which I’d vault over.

Running on the sand proper now, I’d go until I reached the runway of the Kota Kinabalu International Airport or Terminal 1 and go onto a road that would lead me back to the main road that leads out from the T2, which makes you think of either one or two things.

First: the whole airport complex must be really small. Yes, it is.

Second: must be a really long walk (or run if I felt like it).

Honestly, the whole thing for me would take only a little more than one hour by walking.

Well, now I haven’t been jogging or walking for more than a month now. Funny how life is really good at distracting you from doing things you care about. Or maybe it’s just me.

Yeah, I guess it’s just me.

So now, everyday when I reach home, I make sure that I do my exercises before dinner or shower.

First, I’d do sit-up which is the worse part. Actually they’re more like crunches. My colleague P******’s husband taught me this when I told him what I wanted to do. I knew I’d asked the right guy for advice because this guy has actually had a six-park before. He’s lost it for a long time now though. What he told me was to lie straight on my back with thighs at a 45 degree angle and lift my shoulders up as if I’m trying to touch my knees with him.

Not an easy thing to do. And I do feel the burn in my mid-section after that. I try to do three sets of ten to start and it’s a bitch, let me tell you.

Next, I take a 2.5 kilo dumbbell and do a set of exercises of my own design.

For the first one hundred reps, I just pass the dumbbell from one hand to the other and this feels great on the forearms. I could the tension on them.

For another 100 reps, with my back straight I’d stare upwards at a 45 degree angle and jab one of my arms holding the dumbbells and switch it to my other hand. Doing this, I would flex biceps and shoulders.

The last thing I do is take a chair with a back rest and lean forward slightly over it while keeping my back straight. Then I would do an alternate snatch-and-let-go between both hands. I don’t grip the dumbbell with the whole hand but with my fingers to work on my fine motor strength.

With all this, I hope to get a six-pack by Christmas.

I got to make sure I stick to it this time.

Complicated

2007-09-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

A recent conversation with a dear friend. ~~Heavily~~ edited for brevity because I’m tired and just finished doing some free-lance work. So there.

G: You’re complicated.

Me: How am I complicated?

G: People who’re UNcomplicated will get born, go to school, go to college, go to university, get a job and get married. You’re not like that.

M: Is that wrong?

G: No, I’m also like that.

M: (Hmmmmm…)

Woman and Child

2007-09-18T05:56:00.000-07:00

18^th September 2007, Tuesday:

Walking out of the Sabah State Library, I needed to get across the darkened car park of the Kota Kinabalu City Hall to get to my MyVi parked next to the curb. I’d been browsing for a while – maybe twenty minutes – in the library even though I didn’t have a library card on me.

I had just lit a cigarette and stood next to the entrance of the car park finishing it when someone came up to me. She’d been walking from the direction of the High Court, which was right next to the car park of the City Hall.

The girl was so short, I don’t think she was more than five feet tall. In her arms she carried a baby, very calm but I could see that the baby was awake. I was surprised when she walked hesitantly up to me. There was no reason to be wary of this small girl but I was apprehensive. I was pretty certain that she was an illegal. Probably a Filipina. I admit I was being somewhat racist and laying on stereotypes but it was also true that a young girl of her sort did not usually approach a Chinese guy like me without a compelling reason, even though I was standing all by myself smoking on a sidewalk near one of the seedier areas of the city.

Apparently, to her, she did have a compelling enough reason to approach me. With a smile, she uttered a few words which I did not comprehend. I might have if I could hear her soft voice above the noise of the traffic passing by. I looked at her with a face that signaled my lack of understanding at what she wanted. I only wanted to be polite to her and hoped that she’d just leave. I’d also thought that she might be a beggar about to ask for some loose change.

She was wearing a dark blue dress, a flowing one that had short sleeves and a hem that covered her below the knees. Appropriate enough for a girl at the age which I had assumed for her in my head. I thought she must have been only ten or eleven.

She continued speaking and kept the smile while she took out a satchel from a pocket. The satchel was a dark colour as well, nearly similar to her dress and it had white draw-strings. She offered the satchel up to me for a second but I just shook my head. I shook my head but I was still looking at it and that gave her a clear enough signal to open it. Wary still, I did not want to reach for it when she offered it to me for fear that it might lead to unwanted attention or that it might make me unwittingly give off the wrong signal.

She pulled open the strings and I peeked into the satchel. They were stones as far as I could tell. Smooth ones of a light colour. Size of half the length of a lighter. I did not know the significance of these stones to her but it did give me a positive feeling because it means she was trying to be enterprising instead of simply just going around begging.

And then she asked, ‘Uncle pandai cakap Dusun kah?’ - Does Uncle know how to speak Dusun?

No, I said to her, only BM – Bahasa Malaysia or Malay language.

‘Uncle dari mana?’ – Where is Uncle from?

‘Sia dari Tanjung Aru,’ I told her truthfully.

‘Oh, kamu Cina kah’ (Oh, are you Chinese?)

Yes, I said.

Then she asked me for two Ringgit. I declined her.

Not one to be let down, she thanked me with a polite terima kasih and walked on her way towards the State Library, the way I’d just walked from. Maybe her next destination was the nearby night market selling food stuff to Muslims who are going to break their fast.

I looked on for several seconds while sucking on the last of my cigarette. Dropping the butt into a puddle and feeling like I needed the loo, I got into my car and drove off for home.

Cold-Hearted?

2007-09-18T05:53:00.000-07:00

17^th September 2007:

G said:

There’s a guy who was born into a poor family. To supplement himself in primary school, he turned to selling cigarettes.

When he started working, he managed to gain ownership of a locally based dot.com company which is a directory of some sort, something like the Malaysian Directory or the Online Yellow Pages. Eventually, he sold it for a very lucrative price and was able to start up an advertising firm. He became a very rich man. He owned three BMWs and got married at age twenty-eight to a very beautiful woman.

This woman was pretty, dressed well, highly educated and to some, was the epitome of glamour. He also had a very adorable child.

One day, desperate to be awarded the advertising account from Honda Malaysia, he needed to give some under-table money to a decision maker in the firm. He forked out three hundred thousand and on top of that, had to take a Honda Accord, the model which he hated the most.

Before the deal could fall through, Honda Japan bought over the local firm and he lost the account. As his wife is the accountant for his advertising agency, she found that the company’s accounts were missing a large sum which was equivalent to the amount of the bribe. She then promptly divorced him.

Unbeknownst to him, she had also been siphoning large amounts from the company accounts to her personal account. During the divorce proceedings, she had asked for every single cent that she has ever spent on him. She had kept every single piece of receipt from purchases she’d made. Even a belt that she had bought for him, she asked for the money. Everything. The angpow cash she’d given his side of the family. Even the money that he had given to purchase things with which she had used to buy things for him.

In the end, he estimated he must have given her about two hundred and fifty thousand. Now, monthly, as ‘ransom’ he needs to pay six thousand as allowance for the care-taking of their child.

To further add insult to injury, she has re-married, with his best friend.

Reality TV reaches new low

2007-08-27T17:27:00.000-07:00

TV justs keeps getting better. As if the monstrosities of The Simple Life and Newlyweds weren't enough. Now they have the kids doing it. The brains of the parents who'd let their children be kept for 40 days in some New Mexico dessert must have been left in their knees.

I don't wanna say much. Just check it out:

http://www.reuters.com/article/newsOne/idUSN2820812820070828

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/kid_nation/

Broke But Whole

2007-08-26T17:57:00.001-07:00

Just after 7am this morning, I ended my relationship with my girlfriend.

It was surprisingly easy. I couldn't stand it any longer. I won't let her go on thinking she could just have her way all the time and that I would take it lying down. I got a stupid hypocritical SMS from her earlier when I was sleeping that finally did it for me:

"Thinkin of you. Wanna hear ur voice actually. I appreciate when you spend ur free time wit me babe. I hope you x mind that i always go out with frens. I cant be sittin at home all day n expect to meet men kan babe he he well life is such. have a nice day babe..."

C'mon, I thought, if you want to keep meeting other men, I'd be a fucking idiot to continue this bloody charade.

So I called her and ended it. Summarily. To the point.

It also was easy because we haven't been together long enough for me to build any real attachment on the relationship. But in the beginning, I thought that she could have been someone that I could love and build a future with. I should have known better than to jump at that stupid conclusion so soon.

She even mentioned to me that she wants to marry now. On our first date.

It's something which I have tried to understand. I know it's the woman's biological clock. She turning 26 this December. I'm trying not to say that that's so early to marry. If that's what she really wants, I have no right to say otherwise. It's just that I don't want to marry now. And she does. So it's better if we ended it now instead of dragging it on.

It's not only that I don't want to marry now. I want to be SURE about the one I'm going to marry. And I have to say, I'm certainly not sure about this Girl.

When I asked her why she'd mentioned on our first date to me that she wants to marry NOW, she said to me, "Because I thought you're a player." I think she still does.

I don't get it. Before I met her, I was single for more than a year. I had one sexual relationship which lasted 4 dates. And nothing else.

When I met this Girl, she was someone I could connect with. We can talk about many topics and I believe we spoke on the same wavelength.

It was barely a month ago.

And then the cracks started to show.

She'd miss-call me and expect me to call her back. All the time.

When I asked why, she looked at me and told me not to be so 'calculative'. She said, her pre-paid call rate was more expensive than my post-paid one and it made more sense for me to call her instead.

Please.

She has not worked for more than a year. Yet, she can really spend money. Buying clothes, eating expensive food. I'm not sure but I suspect her dad's supporting her still.

I did have a glimmer of hope that she find something to fill her time with a eatery business that she mentioned she starting with her dad. Let's hope that falls through.

Thing is, I do care for her. But looking at the situation before this break-up, I don't think I could grow to love her. Not now.

To top things off, once she said to me, "I get impatient and restless if things don't go my way."

Hope I'm not being judgmental but that sounded quite self-centred and self-indulgent to me.

You know what?

I'm relieved I got out of it now.

Restart. Reset.

2007-08-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

I just started this blog on a whim. Well, not really on a whim. I wanna be a writer but not for any publication, just for myself. Cuz eventually, I want to be a novelist as well. So I guess I'm using this place as a sort of practice ground for my writing. I do have another blog which I have failed to update for more than a year. Why don't I use that blog for my writings? That's cuz I don't feel it's the 'write' platform for this.

I don't expect anyone to read these writings. I don't know how consistent I'll be in my postings. I don't mind any comments or criticisms from anyone but remember, I'm doing this for me. I'm not even going to tell me friends about this place. But if they find out, it's alright too.

Let's see where we go on from here.