the only good thing about having relatives, who poke their nose into your business when you don't need it and talks about your life behind your back, who keeps prodding you on to the next stage no matter if it is marriage or childbirth, is that you are still qualified to receive angpow from them no matter how old you are and regardless of your marital status.
sweetttttttt.
6 months down the road, i'm feeling rather poor and i decide to open my new year angpow packets, and i finally discover the point of having relatives after all.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
still blogging
somewhere out there, beyond the freaking cold air surrounding my place, beyond all this noisy construction that is perpetual of this area, someone is wondering....... what's wrong with this blogger. how can she call herself a blogger if she doesn't blog? :-p
sorry, can't help myself. when i try to come up with words, my mind draws a blank. when i come up with topics, the imaginary blogging police in my brain comes up, complete with the whistle and gigantic lollipop stop sign and signals for me to pull over. i can't seem to summon the mood to blog *pouts*....it's a sickness, i tell you. i'm not responsible for my actions, or inactions during this period.
ah pek gave me this nice little award recently.....the power of .....(damn! must go back and refer to the title of the award. such is the silliness of the name) the schmooze. thank you. i'm so honoured to be called a bullshitter. i've wanted nothing more since i was growing up, my ambition, my goal, my ultimate point of existence. thing is....i figured i didn't deserve that award since if i don't blog? so, that's what this little post is.
to let people know that i'm ok and have not gone on to the little magical place up there. and to qualify for that award.
there! 220 words essay done. thank you, sir! *flicks hair and walks off with award in hand*
sorry, can't help myself. when i try to come up with words, my mind draws a blank. when i come up with topics, the imaginary blogging police in my brain comes up, complete with the whistle and gigantic lollipop stop sign and signals for me to pull over. i can't seem to summon the mood to blog *pouts*....it's a sickness, i tell you. i'm not responsible for my actions, or inactions during this period.
ah pek gave me this nice little award recently.....the power of .....(damn! must go back and refer to the title of the award. such is the silliness of the name) the schmooze. thank you. i'm so honoured to be called a bullshitter. i've wanted nothing more since i was growing up, my ambition, my goal, my ultimate point of existence. thing is....i figured i didn't deserve that award since if i don't blog? so, that's what this little post is.
to let people know that i'm ok and have not gone on to the little magical place up there. and to qualify for that award.
there! 220 words essay done. thank you, sir! *flicks hair and walks off with award in hand*
Monday, July 23, 2007
i want
i want....
...to just sit at the nearest cafe for a cup of coffee...and a breather.
...to light up a match and set fire to this pile of work infront of me.
...to lie down in bed with a good book and fuzzy teddy bear.
...to throw away all the clocks in the world.
...to go out shopping in the weekday when there is no noisy crowd and rude pushes.
...watch a kite flutter by......but there is no kite for miles around.
...to talk to a friend.
...to stop blaming myself for all things that go wrong.
...to eat all that i can eat without gaining a single gram
...to laugh again.
...to meet with friends until the wee of the night.
...to hear the sound of the waves and feel the sea breeze blowing against my face
...to sit by the window, watching the raindrops fall and listening to soft romantic music, alone with my thoughts.
...to just sit at the nearest cafe for a cup of coffee...and a breather.
...to light up a match and set fire to this pile of work infront of me.
...to lie down in bed with a good book and fuzzy teddy bear.
...to throw away all the clocks in the world.
...to go out shopping in the weekday when there is no noisy crowd and rude pushes.
...watch a kite flutter by......but there is no kite for miles around.
...to talk to a friend.
...to stop blaming myself for all things that go wrong.
...to eat all that i can eat without gaining a single gram
...to laugh again.
...to meet with friends until the wee of the night.
...to hear the sound of the waves and feel the sea breeze blowing against my face
...to sit by the window, watching the raindrops fall and listening to soft romantic music, alone with my thoughts.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
old news
if i'm not making sense, it's cos i'm tired. if i'm ranting, it's cos i'm over-loaded. if i'm writing here, it's cos i'm seeking for an escape. a temporary one.
i've got too many balls to juggle at the moment. my brain is too tired to even come up with the words my heart want to express.
when you don't take offence, everything is dumped into your lap. it's also my fault. i'm born with a impaired gene; one which makes me HAVE to do everything, one which makes me HAVE to please everybody. psychoanalysts say it's because you want people to like you.....i'm not so sure about that. i guess it just seems like the easier alternative.
when a situation arise, everybody's most concerned. everybody flocks to the scene, asking, caring, trying to help. when the situation persists, people's interest are no longer there. nobody cares anymore. it doesn't matter who dies, who needs help, how the people at the scene standing-by are ready to drop from sheer tiredness or however dire the situation has become. nobody's interested anymore cos it's old news.
happens everywhere. in all situations. when people fall sick, in the politics, in the house, marriage....every situation where the situation gets stale. it seems....nobody like old news. old is gold? that's only for the fools.
i've got too many balls to juggle at the moment. my brain is too tired to even come up with the words my heart want to express.
when you don't take offence, everything is dumped into your lap. it's also my fault. i'm born with a impaired gene; one which makes me HAVE to do everything, one which makes me HAVE to please everybody. psychoanalysts say it's because you want people to like you.....i'm not so sure about that. i guess it just seems like the easier alternative.
when a situation arise, everybody's most concerned. everybody flocks to the scene, asking, caring, trying to help. when the situation persists, people's interest are no longer there. nobody cares anymore. it doesn't matter who dies, who needs help, how the people at the scene standing-by are ready to drop from sheer tiredness or however dire the situation has become. nobody's interested anymore cos it's old news.
happens everywhere. in all situations. when people fall sick, in the politics, in the house, marriage....every situation where the situation gets stale. it seems....nobody like old news. old is gold? that's only for the fools.
hairy issue
my hair has gotten really long. all because i am too lazy to make a trip to the saloon and be subjected to all sorts of torture for 4 hours.
as with all long hair, infact as with all hair, it has a tendency to drop. see? it's this strange thing called gravity. as part of the hair renewal process, when new hair shaft is forming the old hair is pushed out. when things are pushed out, it falls down, and not up! (remember the strange thing called gravity?). as it falls, there is always the floor to catch it, so that it doesn't collect as a pile in the centre of the earth. thus, it should be hardly surprising that there are hairs on the floor, no?
yes, long hairs are easier to see....hence, you see them everywhere. under the table, on the sofa, in the bathroom.....there are finer, smaller and shorter hair too, belonging to the other inhabitants, if you care to bring along a microscope to look. however, with the naked eye, it would APPEAR as if all the hairs belongs to the long-haired person. *rolls eyes* if you count each and every strand, it's only a very normal percentage, maybe even a minority, of the entire.
end of class. now everybody understand where all the hair on the floor come from? that it is a very normal process of growth and renewal? class dismissed.
anybody knows where to get a dna kit? i want to get one to prove my innocence! stop telling me it's all my fault!! everybody is shedding!!grrrrrrrr! i'm thinking of dyeing my hair green to differentiate them from others.
as with all long hair, infact as with all hair, it has a tendency to drop. see? it's this strange thing called gravity. as part of the hair renewal process, when new hair shaft is forming the old hair is pushed out. when things are pushed out, it falls down, and not up! (remember the strange thing called gravity?). as it falls, there is always the floor to catch it, so that it doesn't collect as a pile in the centre of the earth. thus, it should be hardly surprising that there are hairs on the floor, no?
yes, long hairs are easier to see....hence, you see them everywhere. under the table, on the sofa, in the bathroom.....there are finer, smaller and shorter hair too, belonging to the other inhabitants, if you care to bring along a microscope to look. however, with the naked eye, it would APPEAR as if all the hairs belongs to the long-haired person. *rolls eyes* if you count each and every strand, it's only a very normal percentage, maybe even a minority, of the entire.
end of class. now everybody understand where all the hair on the floor come from? that it is a very normal process of growth and renewal? class dismissed.
anybody knows where to get a dna kit? i want to get one to prove my innocence! stop telling me it's all my fault!! everybody is shedding!!grrrrrrrr! i'm thinking of dyeing my hair green to differentiate them from others.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
fashion unconscious
because of my outrage, i've bumped my original post to tomorrow's slot. because of my outrage, i've started my sentence with a conjunction when my teacher specifically told me it's grammatically incorrect to do so. because of my outrage, i'm outraged! :-p (there's only so many sentence you can make up that begins like that, ok?!)
you guys must have read about the latest rage on buying a certain model of a branded handbag. the one that states in bold that it is not a plastic bag. duh!! yes, it is also not a paper bag or a briefcase! what a stupid gimmick (am i going to be sued for that statement?! gasp!). the one that had people queuing for hours and hours. the hong kong press showed the picture of the first lady who entered the shop, complete with her own stool!! i was surprised she didn't have her portable potty with her. that was sarcasm, in case some of you missed it. the bag that was originally sold at £5 and is now being bid at £400 on ebay!
the one which was meant to replace plastic bags and be environmentally-conscious. meaning that you go to the pasar (market), you tell the aunties, "i don't need plastic bag hor! i've got my own bag" and promptly put in all the fishes, vegetables and meat wrapped in newspaper that you have bought. hello? the bag was meant to replace plastic bags. when was it considered classy or fashionable to hang a plastic bag on your shoulders and stride down the street, with your hips swaying from side to side. haiyoh! so aunty!
the thing that i don't get...is those ladies that are dying for a piece of that bag. what does owning one of those bag show about you? does it show that you are very influential and rich because you can get one of those when others can't? does it show that you are very fashion-conscious or a trend-setter? i don't think it does. it merely shows that............. you are a sheep! baaaaa! a follower with no opinions of your own. scratch individualism and character of the list too, whilst you are at it. doesn't matter what material the bag is made out of. doesn't matter who is the maker. doesn't matter what the design or colour is. all that matter is the fact that it is out of stock! and the fact that it is heavily overpriced! makes all the difference in the world and creates sudden influx of demand. i saw that bag sitting sadly in the shop a week before the rage began and it was looking so forlornly at me, asking me why no one wants to buy it?
that was before the sheep came.
that said, if someone was to give me one of the bag, i'll accept it gladly. what? you think i'm stupid? i've got character.....but i've also got a brain, ok?
you guys must have read about the latest rage on buying a certain model of a branded handbag. the one that states in bold that it is not a plastic bag. duh!! yes, it is also not a paper bag or a briefcase! what a stupid gimmick (am i going to be sued for that statement?! gasp!). the one that had people queuing for hours and hours. the hong kong press showed the picture of the first lady who entered the shop, complete with her own stool!! i was surprised she didn't have her portable potty with her. that was sarcasm, in case some of you missed it. the bag that was originally sold at £5 and is now being bid at £400 on ebay!
the one which was meant to replace plastic bags and be environmentally-conscious. meaning that you go to the pasar (market), you tell the aunties, "i don't need plastic bag hor! i've got my own bag" and promptly put in all the fishes, vegetables and meat wrapped in newspaper that you have bought. hello? the bag was meant to replace plastic bags. when was it considered classy or fashionable to hang a plastic bag on your shoulders and stride down the street, with your hips swaying from side to side. haiyoh! so aunty!
the thing that i don't get...is those ladies that are dying for a piece of that bag. what does owning one of those bag show about you? does it show that you are very influential and rich because you can get one of those when others can't? does it show that you are very fashion-conscious or a trend-setter? i don't think it does. it merely shows that............. you are a sheep! baaaaa! a follower with no opinions of your own. scratch individualism and character of the list too, whilst you are at it. doesn't matter what material the bag is made out of. doesn't matter who is the maker. doesn't matter what the design or colour is. all that matter is the fact that it is out of stock! and the fact that it is heavily overpriced! makes all the difference in the world and creates sudden influx of demand. i saw that bag sitting sadly in the shop a week before the rage began and it was looking so forlornly at me, asking me why no one wants to buy it?
that was before the sheep came.
that said, if someone was to give me one of the bag, i'll accept it gladly. what? you think i'm stupid? i've got character.....but i've also got a brain, ok?
Monday, July 16, 2007
kung-fu
if you are born and bred in this part of the world, chances are you have heard of the shaolin kungfu's 18 movements, with very silly names like "whirling horse stance", "moving at night, hit the enemy", "the iron buffalo ploughs the field" and what have you. kungfu experts wannabe would have memorised these names by hard and shouted them out at their 'opponents' as they punched, kicked and danced.
however, there are some moves that have been shrouded in secrecy for centuries, simply because they are all too powerful and consuming. it has been practiced primarily by the female sex and is restricted only to special quarters, under closed-room conditions, away from curious peering eyes.
some of you may know that i am a qualified martial expert, from my brief but very orgasmic discipline with the qigong master. he has revealed to me the moves that has been hidden for centuries, the ones that are extremely useful in dire circumstances. for the benefit of all my readers, i shall reveal them here. i shall probably be kicked out from the sect for this act of indiscretion....but for the general good, i shall persist.
ladies, listen carefully, as these moves may become very useful. men, proceed with care. for all, only practice when you are in very dirty toilets, which is actually a given in our country.
Move No. 1 - the hover.
the act is to simply pretend that there is an invisible chair above the w.c. you squat in midair and release your bladder (or bowel, if the condition is more serious) as fast as you can. it will help if you can increase the pressure of the emission. standing up halfway is a serious no-no and will result in the disciple going amok.....or having very wet pants.
Move No. 2 - the squat
this move is mainly for those who have weak knees and are unable to perform the above. the disciple will have to climb above the seat and squat as she/he performs the necessary task. it is important to note that this move will cause the seat to be extremely soiled and guarantee that all subsequent users will have to practice one of the moves but where one is left with no choice, proceed if necessary. those who wish to perform the more serious type of emission should also practice this move, unless the disciple already has very strong thigh muscles.
Move No. 3 - the layer
for this, the disciple has to be equipped with many apparatus; mainly pocketfuls of tissue papers. stretch your fingers, crack your knuckles....and lay as many tissue as you can around the toilet seat before you lose grip on your bladder control. the disadvantage of this move, however, is that there is a tendency for the tissue papers to fly away when you swiftly move your butt to the seat in desperation and you end up sitting on the extremely *barfffff* dirty toilet seat. do not use this move unless you have much practice at home and are very skilled in the process.
Move No. 4 - the cleaner
similar to the above, the disciple has to be equipped with many apparatus for practising this, even more actually. you will have to bring along some disinfectant spray, a pair of gloves, some wet tissues, some dry tissues and some perfumed aerosol. if you find it absolutely necessary, you can bring along an metal scrub and a bleach. firstly, put on your gloves, pour the bottle of bleach and promptly use the metal scrub to get the dirt out. then use the wet tissue to wipe off the layer of grime, dirt and spots of whatever leftovers (?!) on the seat. then use the disinfectant to clean one more time to ensure that the seat is hygienic and lastly, use the dry tissue to wipe the seat so that your bum will not be wet and unpleasant when you sit down. do not forget to use the perfumed aerosol to create a very condusive and pleasant environment. a point to note, discard all materials after one use. the items would have been too contaminated to bring with you. the next user of the toilet will be eternally grateful to you.
go forth, my dear disciples, and practice the movements that have been taught to you.
however, there are some moves that have been shrouded in secrecy for centuries, simply because they are all too powerful and consuming. it has been practiced primarily by the female sex and is restricted only to special quarters, under closed-room conditions, away from curious peering eyes.
some of you may know that i am a qualified martial expert, from my brief but very orgasmic discipline with the qigong master. he has revealed to me the moves that has been hidden for centuries, the ones that are extremely useful in dire circumstances. for the benefit of all my readers, i shall reveal them here. i shall probably be kicked out from the sect for this act of indiscretion....but for the general good, i shall persist.
ladies, listen carefully, as these moves may become very useful. men, proceed with care. for all, only practice when you are in very dirty toilets, which is actually a given in our country.
Move No. 1 - the hover.
the act is to simply pretend that there is an invisible chair above the w.c. you squat in midair and release your bladder (or bowel, if the condition is more serious) as fast as you can. it will help if you can increase the pressure of the emission. standing up halfway is a serious no-no and will result in the disciple going amok.....or having very wet pants.
Move No. 2 - the squat
this move is mainly for those who have weak knees and are unable to perform the above. the disciple will have to climb above the seat and squat as she/he performs the necessary task. it is important to note that this move will cause the seat to be extremely soiled and guarantee that all subsequent users will have to practice one of the moves but where one is left with no choice, proceed if necessary. those who wish to perform the more serious type of emission should also practice this move, unless the disciple already has very strong thigh muscles.
Move No. 3 - the layer
for this, the disciple has to be equipped with many apparatus; mainly pocketfuls of tissue papers. stretch your fingers, crack your knuckles....and lay as many tissue as you can around the toilet seat before you lose grip on your bladder control. the disadvantage of this move, however, is that there is a tendency for the tissue papers to fly away when you swiftly move your butt to the seat in desperation and you end up sitting on the extremely *barfffff* dirty toilet seat. do not use this move unless you have much practice at home and are very skilled in the process.
Move No. 4 - the cleaner
similar to the above, the disciple has to be equipped with many apparatus for practising this, even more actually. you will have to bring along some disinfectant spray, a pair of gloves, some wet tissues, some dry tissues and some perfumed aerosol. if you find it absolutely necessary, you can bring along an metal scrub and a bleach. firstly, put on your gloves, pour the bottle of bleach and promptly use the metal scrub to get the dirt out. then use the wet tissue to wipe off the layer of grime, dirt and spots of whatever leftovers (?!) on the seat. then use the disinfectant to clean one more time to ensure that the seat is hygienic and lastly, use the dry tissue to wipe the seat so that your bum will not be wet and unpleasant when you sit down. do not forget to use the perfumed aerosol to create a very condusive and pleasant environment. a point to note, discard all materials after one use. the items would have been too contaminated to bring with you. the next user of the toilet will be eternally grateful to you.
go forth, my dear disciples, and practice the movements that have been taught to you.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
admiration
if you don't see me coming around to your blogs, a thousand apologies in advance. i'm going to be very very very busy.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
fiction
i grew up on a very healthy dose of hong kong's cantonese tv series; some will even call it an overdose. it's also how i picked up the language. being the only daughter in an over-protective prison, those escapades into the imaginary world helped maintain my sanity. i've even imagined myself to be miss hongkong, god knows how since i'm born and bred malaysian, until i blossomed and bloomed into something short of miss hong kong material, that is.
the tv series are usually long, from 20 to 30, or even 60 episodes. inevitably i fall into the trap of being too familiar and too attached to the characters.
he was like a modern day prince charming, their love story most touching, with the sacharrin sweetness and heart-wrenching fallouts that is typical of all tv romances. they were infatuated with each other since their teens, without the other knowing of the crush. he was going to let her know, she moved away before he had the chance. fast forward many years later, they met again by chance. after many romantic and touching scenes, they opened up their hearts and started their romance. as time passed, the man grew complacent and was tempted by someone new, someone attractive. he made one single mistake. she found out, of course, and couldn't find it in her heart to forgive him. he realised, albeit a little too late, that she was still his one true love. he stayed by her side, protecting her, helping her, being there for her eventhough he knows she cannot forgive him. he doesn't want to force her because he doesn't want to see her shed another tear for him. years of being there for her, it finally touched her. she forgave him....but before she gets to tell him, he met with an accident. and die.
he died! goddammit! the character that i was getting so attached to died! it's funny because i still see the actor in other movies and i know he's alive and kicking. yet, it's not the actor that i have formed an attachment to. when i see him in other movies, the feeling of familiarity is not there. it's only to that particular character in that particular movie. it's a very strange feeling, being attached to someone that does not exist, that is unreal and is a figment of some writer's imagination. something that you cannot grasp with your hand or touch. yet, it's all there in your mind.
a little like modern day romance, don't you think? some of us fall in love with what we imagine our partners to be (then try our hardest to change them into what we want, but that's beside the point). we hardly know the person from a couple of meetings and yet we're head over heel. we only know they make our hearts palpitate and ours hands perspire, something so intangible yet we call it love. such a love that some are willing to sacrifice decades of marriage or parental trust to get more of it. we put them on a pedestal and imagine them to be the greatest, the loveliest, the kindest when the truth may be miles away. we are in love with an image, a fiction of our own imagination.
i once received such a letter from a friend who was thousands of miles away, claiming to be amorous of me. my first thought was....do you even know me at all? i for one definitely do not know anything about him, despite the fact that we have been friends since primary school. more like acquaintances, perhaps. needless to say, he was not given a chance. it sounded fake, immature and insincere even. i had no intention of living out his dreams.... or spending the rest of my life peering down from my pedestal.
the tv series are usually long, from 20 to 30, or even 60 episodes. inevitably i fall into the trap of being too familiar and too attached to the characters.
he was like a modern day prince charming, their love story most touching, with the sacharrin sweetness and heart-wrenching fallouts that is typical of all tv romances. they were infatuated with each other since their teens, without the other knowing of the crush. he was going to let her know, she moved away before he had the chance. fast forward many years later, they met again by chance. after many romantic and touching scenes, they opened up their hearts and started their romance. as time passed, the man grew complacent and was tempted by someone new, someone attractive. he made one single mistake. she found out, of course, and couldn't find it in her heart to forgive him. he realised, albeit a little too late, that she was still his one true love. he stayed by her side, protecting her, helping her, being there for her eventhough he knows she cannot forgive him. he doesn't want to force her because he doesn't want to see her shed another tear for him. years of being there for her, it finally touched her. she forgave him....but before she gets to tell him, he met with an accident. and die.
he died! goddammit! the character that i was getting so attached to died! it's funny because i still see the actor in other movies and i know he's alive and kicking. yet, it's not the actor that i have formed an attachment to. when i see him in other movies, the feeling of familiarity is not there. it's only to that particular character in that particular movie. it's a very strange feeling, being attached to someone that does not exist, that is unreal and is a figment of some writer's imagination. something that you cannot grasp with your hand or touch. yet, it's all there in your mind.
a little like modern day romance, don't you think? some of us fall in love with what we imagine our partners to be (then try our hardest to change them into what we want, but that's beside the point). we hardly know the person from a couple of meetings and yet we're head over heel. we only know they make our hearts palpitate and ours hands perspire, something so intangible yet we call it love. such a love that some are willing to sacrifice decades of marriage or parental trust to get more of it. we put them on a pedestal and imagine them to be the greatest, the loveliest, the kindest when the truth may be miles away. we are in love with an image, a fiction of our own imagination.
i once received such a letter from a friend who was thousands of miles away, claiming to be amorous of me. my first thought was....do you even know me at all? i for one definitely do not know anything about him, despite the fact that we have been friends since primary school. more like acquaintances, perhaps. needless to say, he was not given a chance. it sounded fake, immature and insincere even. i had no intention of living out his dreams.... or spending the rest of my life peering down from my pedestal.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
sorry, how many again?- part 2
it's that time of the year again.
the one where i try to break my old record.
for those who have been my readers since the dinosaurs' time, you'll remember my last record. 17 people in my condo of three rooms.
this year, i'm trying again, to fit more people into this small place, until the walls are cracking, the floors breaking and the neighbours complaining. this time, i'm trying to squeeze 20 people into the house and not quiting until somebody goes raving mad! or at least until someone starts screaming, laughing and crying, most probably me.
milo is most wary that the experience will transform me into the wild werewolf, devouring him the moment he steps back from work, plucking his hair out one by one for added torment. i'll prefer to concentrate on pretending to be deaf. i'll definitely need that, with nine hyperactive kids under the same roof. i'm trying a new approach. lock all the doors to the balconies, remove all dangerous things....and just let them fight it out. whoever survives get to have dinner. survival of the strongest!! yehhhh! reality tv in the making - survivor, episode 15. and i'm talking about the adults.
there are five families......but three official rooms. fil and mil get priority. i'm not giving up my room!! that means there is one room left for three families to fight over. this stuff is more interesting than survivor!! anybody knows the number for cbs? i can sell the shooting rights to them! i'm figuring that i can put one baby in the bath-tub. it's comfy, it's spacy...for a baby. it's safe too! the balcony's spacious too.....i'll have to check who doesn't walk, or rather climb over railings, in their sleep. where else? comeon, think! the shoe cabinet can squeeze in one. ok, ok, i'm a pushover. i'll give up my walk-in closet. someone can sleep in comfort in there, together with all my clothes, handbags and whatever's hiding in the corner. you think my maid will let one of them room with her? nahhhhhhh, better keep it a secret from her. she may just hand in her resignation and flee the scene before the troupe arrives. *shivering at the thought*
did i mention that it was for 2 weeks? 14 days? 336 hours? 20,160 minutes? 1,209,600 seconds? long? noooooooooo way!
the one where i try to break my old record.
for those who have been my readers since the dinosaurs' time, you'll remember my last record. 17 people in my condo of three rooms.
this year, i'm trying again, to fit more people into this small place, until the walls are cracking, the floors breaking and the neighbours complaining. this time, i'm trying to squeeze 20 people into the house and not quiting until somebody goes raving mad! or at least until someone starts screaming, laughing and crying, most probably me.
milo is most wary that the experience will transform me into the wild werewolf, devouring him the moment he steps back from work, plucking his hair out one by one for added torment. i'll prefer to concentrate on pretending to be deaf. i'll definitely need that, with nine hyperactive kids under the same roof. i'm trying a new approach. lock all the doors to the balconies, remove all dangerous things....and just let them fight it out. whoever survives get to have dinner. survival of the strongest!! yehhhh! reality tv in the making - survivor, episode 15. and i'm talking about the adults.
there are five families......but three official rooms. fil and mil get priority. i'm not giving up my room!! that means there is one room left for three families to fight over. this stuff is more interesting than survivor!! anybody knows the number for cbs? i can sell the shooting rights to them! i'm figuring that i can put one baby in the bath-tub. it's comfy, it's spacy...for a baby. it's safe too! the balcony's spacious too.....i'll have to check who doesn't walk, or rather climb over railings, in their sleep. where else? comeon, think! the shoe cabinet can squeeze in one. ok, ok, i'm a pushover. i'll give up my walk-in closet. someone can sleep in comfort in there, together with all my clothes, handbags and whatever's hiding in the corner. you think my maid will let one of them room with her? nahhhhhhh, better keep it a secret from her. she may just hand in her resignation and flee the scene before the troupe arrives. *shivering at the thought*
did i mention that it was for 2 weeks? 14 days? 336 hours? 20,160 minutes? 1,209,600 seconds? long? noooooooooo way!
Monday, July 09, 2007
hanging on
haven't been myself lately (in which case, who else can i be?? silly way to phrase it.)
called her at 9:11 am, just as i was almost reaching home. finished forwarding my instructions but she clung on to the line.
i reached home. i parked my car.
she was still on the line.
i got down the car and walked to the lift. she was still on the line, grumbling and whining.
i stood at the side of the lift, waiting for her to finish. should i enter? entering the lift would mean the line will be cut off automatically.
she continued to complain and griped.
i stood there, overlooking the potted plants, whilst she complained about everybody and i listened. my idle hands thrashed the leaves whilst my ears did a service. everyone needs someone in their lives to listen to their grievances from time to time. i was stuck there, unable to return home. no place to sit. no place to go. cornered, like a small dog. i miss my sofaaaaaa!
the handphone was getting very hot.
the cleaners walked past....giving me strange looks.
the gardeners walked past....looking up and down.
more cleaners walked past.
sigh! it was getting embarrassing.
finally! she was done with her moaning. she hung up. i looked at my handphone. 10 o'clock? i stood there for 45 minutes whilst she talked and talked....and talked? it just struck me....why didn't i just tell her "i'm going into the lift. i'll call you back later"?
sometimes, i'm such a dope.
called her at 9:11 am, just as i was almost reaching home. finished forwarding my instructions but she clung on to the line.
i reached home. i parked my car.
she was still on the line.
i got down the car and walked to the lift. she was still on the line, grumbling and whining.
i stood at the side of the lift, waiting for her to finish. should i enter? entering the lift would mean the line will be cut off automatically.
she continued to complain and griped.
i stood there, overlooking the potted plants, whilst she complained about everybody and i listened. my idle hands thrashed the leaves whilst my ears did a service. everyone needs someone in their lives to listen to their grievances from time to time. i was stuck there, unable to return home. no place to sit. no place to go. cornered, like a small dog. i miss my sofaaaaaa!
the handphone was getting very hot.
the cleaners walked past....giving me strange looks.
the gardeners walked past....looking up and down.
more cleaners walked past.
sigh! it was getting embarrassing.
finally! she was done with her moaning. she hung up. i looked at my handphone. 10 o'clock? i stood there for 45 minutes whilst she talked and talked....and talked? it just struck me....why didn't i just tell her "i'm going into the lift. i'll call you back later"?
sometimes, i'm such a dope.
Friday, July 06, 2007
a break
a break in my routine today. just in time too because i am beginning to feel the symptoms of a burnt-out. one day. one day to stop and slow down, to sit down and let my thoughts wander once more. one day to not having to think of what to eat, what to cook, what to do next. que sera sera. there should be more 'one-days'.
given one day off, i've always thought that i would pick up on where i was rudely interrupted by the boss slaming documents down on my table and flitter my day shopping...but now, sitting quietly behind the desk, soft music filling the air seems more like what i need now.
ahhhhhhhhh......*stretching hands over head*.
we always seem to get into the vicious cycle of writing for others. perhaps it's not a bad thing because everybody seeks acknowledgement, recognition but somewhere along the line, we forget what we want to write about. my thoughts. a very random and boring process, but nevertheless, something that releases my trapped soul and let my mind soar when the body can't. such a therapeutic process for me.
sometimes you blog as part of a social process, to bring yourself and your readers closer with the fun and laughters. i've been too tired of late to blog of my thoughts.....simply because i've been too tired to let the cogs in my mind turn. i've simply filled the empty pages with random clips of my life and short stories.
sometimes there are stories untold of the events in my life, eventhough purportedly the blog is about me, some words left unspoken, some thoughts unexpressed. simply because we fear. fear of offending, fear of boring others, fear of giving out too much information, fear of what others' think, fear of so many things. maybe the beauty of a child is in the absence of such fear.
so many factors, so many influences....why do we always let other things sway us? one thing that i should have learnt with age, but perhaps have not yet perfected, is to stand tall.
note: there was an interruption in the midst of writing....and when i come back...the feeling's not there anymore..making the continuing of the post a little emptier. life is strange.
given one day off, i've always thought that i would pick up on where i was rudely interrupted by the boss slaming documents down on my table and flitter my day shopping...but now, sitting quietly behind the desk, soft music filling the air seems more like what i need now.
ahhhhhhhhh......*stretching hands over head*.
we always seem to get into the vicious cycle of writing for others. perhaps it's not a bad thing because everybody seeks acknowledgement, recognition but somewhere along the line, we forget what we want to write about. my thoughts. a very random and boring process, but nevertheless, something that releases my trapped soul and let my mind soar when the body can't. such a therapeutic process for me.
sometimes you blog as part of a social process, to bring yourself and your readers closer with the fun and laughters. i've been too tired of late to blog of my thoughts.....simply because i've been too tired to let the cogs in my mind turn. i've simply filled the empty pages with random clips of my life and short stories.
sometimes there are stories untold of the events in my life, eventhough purportedly the blog is about me, some words left unspoken, some thoughts unexpressed. simply because we fear. fear of offending, fear of boring others, fear of giving out too much information, fear of what others' think, fear of so many things. maybe the beauty of a child is in the absence of such fear.
so many factors, so many influences....why do we always let other things sway us? one thing that i should have learnt with age, but perhaps have not yet perfected, is to stand tall.
note: there was an interruption in the midst of writing....and when i come back...the feeling's not there anymore..making the continuing of the post a little emptier. life is strange.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
writing about writings
this little blogger is down and disillusioned today.
went straight to the computer this morning to check my comments, as usual, and found that most people have misread my last post. which leaves me to think that i am very incapable of expressing myself clearly and putting forth my thoughts.
true, i could have called a cat a cat and made things easy for everybody. i could have just come straight out and said what i wanted to say instead of playing with the words, starting with one extreme and ending up with another...but where is the fun in writing then? it would be a little like writing those agonising little essays for my secondary school teacher. then again, with my post yesterday, my teacher may have given me a big fat red cross and marked 'what the crap are you writing?! please re-write the entire essay and submit before next wednesday.'
when the readers don't understand the stories, i believe that the fault lies with the author. the failure to convey the story like it is supposed to be told. if there is any misinterpretation, the author have failed in telling the story. still, i wonder. could the problem lies with people's tendency to skim when they read? to not listen when they see? or to even not see when it's there? or is my brain too muddled right now to think straight? the picture with the cotton wool brain seems to be most appropriate today.
i am tired. i need a break from writing.
i'm crawling back to bed........to sulk.
went straight to the computer this morning to check my comments, as usual, and found that most people have misread my last post. which leaves me to think that i am very incapable of expressing myself clearly and putting forth my thoughts.
true, i could have called a cat a cat and made things easy for everybody. i could have just come straight out and said what i wanted to say instead of playing with the words, starting with one extreme and ending up with another...but where is the fun in writing then? it would be a little like writing those agonising little essays for my secondary school teacher. then again, with my post yesterday, my teacher may have given me a big fat red cross and marked 'what the crap are you writing?! please re-write the entire essay and submit before next wednesday.'
when the readers don't understand the stories, i believe that the fault lies with the author. the failure to convey the story like it is supposed to be told. if there is any misinterpretation, the author have failed in telling the story. still, i wonder. could the problem lies with people's tendency to skim when they read? to not listen when they see? or to even not see when it's there? or is my brain too muddled right now to think straight? the picture with the cotton wool brain seems to be most appropriate today.
i am tired. i need a break from writing.
i'm crawling back to bed........to sulk.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
understanding
men don't understand.
when his family was here, and you hint to him that he has it good because he gets to 'smack his butt and leave for the office' whilst you are left to hold down the fort and keep them entertained, with nary a phone call during the day to enquire how you were surviving, he got offended.
whilst you were all tired from juggling work, motherhood and preparing all three meals of the day, catering to the young, the old and the in-between day in day out, he came back and lounged in front of the television, your resentment level hits the roof.
you told him about the tough day you had but he had left his brain in the office and his sympathy in the car; you were ready to freak out.
you run hectic trying to do everything, cover all the bases. he doesn't see. he can't understand that the most expensive handbag or the prettiest flowers don't mean much in the way of expressing appreciation.
sometimes, it doesn't have to be physical. it doesn't have to be material.
this time round, the story changed a little.
a little bit of this, a little bit of that........it made all the difference.
he gave a few suggestions, albeit lame it was, on what to cook for dinner after i've racked my brain for inspirations day after day, meal after meal. he extends an olive branch and tries to help whenever he could. he's wary i'll lose it any second now and aim the chopper at him. after work, he scurries into the kitchen, trying to make himself as useful as possible to defuse the tension.knowing that he is trying so hard, understanding that he wants to help....was all that is needed.
at the end of the day, he came home and gave me a relaxing back rub to ease the knots in the shoulders after a whole day of running between the kitchen and the work table.
a compliment of a meal well cooked, instead of burping, pushing away from the table and aiming towards the tv, brought out a smile.
he offered to bring them out for dinner once in a while, or buy some food home, to ease the burden of more cut fingers and burnt hands.
knowing that he appreciates it is all that i need.
sometimes the man does understand.
note from author: usually i write my post and leave it for your interpretation. i don't try to explain more than is in the post because i can't. however, i'm gettting slighty worried because people seem to be misinterpreting the message i'm trying to convey for this post...a problem that may trigger off world war 3. so, for this post, i'll add a little summary.
there are two parts to this post...the initial one which is like all married couples....and the latter part where he tries so hard. this post is an appreciation of his appreciation, for his trying so hard. please don't misinterpret it as a whine for more attention. he is already perfect...like me! ahem!
when his family was here, and you hint to him that he has it good because he gets to 'smack his butt and leave for the office' whilst you are left to hold down the fort and keep them entertained, with nary a phone call during the day to enquire how you were surviving, he got offended.
whilst you were all tired from juggling work, motherhood and preparing all three meals of the day, catering to the young, the old and the in-between day in day out, he came back and lounged in front of the television, your resentment level hits the roof.
you told him about the tough day you had but he had left his brain in the office and his sympathy in the car; you were ready to freak out.
you run hectic trying to do everything, cover all the bases. he doesn't see. he can't understand that the most expensive handbag or the prettiest flowers don't mean much in the way of expressing appreciation.
sometimes, it doesn't have to be physical. it doesn't have to be material.
this time round, the story changed a little.
a little bit of this, a little bit of that........it made all the difference.
he gave a few suggestions, albeit lame it was, on what to cook for dinner after i've racked my brain for inspirations day after day, meal after meal. he extends an olive branch and tries to help whenever he could. he's wary i'll lose it any second now and aim the chopper at him. after work, he scurries into the kitchen, trying to make himself as useful as possible to defuse the tension.knowing that he is trying so hard, understanding that he wants to help....was all that is needed.
at the end of the day, he came home and gave me a relaxing back rub to ease the knots in the shoulders after a whole day of running between the kitchen and the work table.
a compliment of a meal well cooked, instead of burping, pushing away from the table and aiming towards the tv, brought out a smile.
he offered to bring them out for dinner once in a while, or buy some food home, to ease the burden of more cut fingers and burnt hands.
knowing that he appreciates it is all that i need.
sometimes the man does understand.
note from author: usually i write my post and leave it for your interpretation. i don't try to explain more than is in the post because i can't. however, i'm gettting slighty worried because people seem to be misinterpreting the message i'm trying to convey for this post...a problem that may trigger off world war 3. so, for this post, i'll add a little summary.
there are two parts to this post...the initial one which is like all married couples....and the latter part where he tries so hard. this post is an appreciation of his appreciation, for his trying so hard. please don't misinterpret it as a whine for more attention. he is already perfect...like me! ahem!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Monday, July 02, 2007
so scary!!
did you see it??!
it was really scary......rated even scarier than freddy kruger and the ring!
i can't believe that someone posted a picture of it on the net, without first rating it PG18 or at the very least PG13, incase some innocent children happen to come across it. that's unethical, i'm telling you.
anyway, i saw it and it caused me a few sleepless nights. i didn't dare to close my eyes in case the image floated in my mental consciousness again. *shudders*
honestly, there should be a guideline as to what pictures we can post on the internet and which pictures we are not allowed to post, for the sake of not causing mass hysteria on the world wide web.
i'm outraged!
i wanted to post a copy of the photo here.......but i figured that the contents may be too disturbing for my general readership.
so, i attach a link here......for those that are brave enough to step into this dimension. for those with a weak heart....i bear no responsibility for any untoward reactions you may have to the picture shown.
i left a comment to the owner of the picture. he replied with a suggestion that i post my own version of it.
that's ok. i'm quite sure mine's suitable for public viewing.
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my spare tyre.
sexy or not, ah pek?
it was really scary......rated even scarier than freddy kruger and the ring!
i can't believe that someone posted a picture of it on the net, without first rating it PG18 or at the very least PG13, incase some innocent children happen to come across it. that's unethical, i'm telling you.
anyway, i saw it and it caused me a few sleepless nights. i didn't dare to close my eyes in case the image floated in my mental consciousness again. *shudders*
honestly, there should be a guideline as to what pictures we can post on the internet and which pictures we are not allowed to post, for the sake of not causing mass hysteria on the world wide web.
i'm outraged!
i wanted to post a copy of the photo here.......but i figured that the contents may be too disturbing for my general readership.
so, i attach a link here......for those that are brave enough to step into this dimension. for those with a weak heart....i bear no responsibility for any untoward reactions you may have to the picture shown.
i left a comment to the owner of the picture. he replied with a suggestion that i post my own version of it.
that's ok. i'm quite sure mine's suitable for public viewing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
my spare tyre.
sexy or not, ah pek?
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before you proceed, let me warn visitors that they may find today's posting a little crass, if not weird. hello everybody. are you all w...
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