We were in a book store’s language section, French, when Wegra noted “French is a gender biased language. Well, most European languages are.”
“Yeah, I agree. Even objects are classified male or female. It makes language learning very complicated!” I said.
“But they are improving English to be less biased. And most Asian languages are the least sexist” she went on.
“Hmm, that’s right! Malay for example, has ‘dia’ or ‘that person’ instead of he or she as a pronoun. But sometimes it is necessary to identify the gender as a more detailed description for a comprehensive and descriptive story” I added.
“Is it really necessary?” she asked.
“I think so. Because in Malay, a story can go on and on using ‘dia’ without a hint of the person being male or female, it creates the need to question ‘is the story referring to a female or a male?” I elaborated.
“Well, that’s the way you look at it” she said, ending the discussion.
Ironically, asking if the person is male or female may be construed as sexist. And you’ll probably get ‘what difference does it make, male or female?’ hurled at you.
The discussion may have stopped there but it kept me thinking. And a few clicks on the net proved how ignorant I was.
How ignorant exactly was I? Google up ‘gender biased language’ and see for your self. Here, let me help; follow this link http://www.google.com.my/search?hl=en&q=gender+biased+language&btnG=Search&meta=
I totally understand now why eliminating gender biasing is necessary. It eliminates discrimination on every level. It’s the first step to creating a fair and civilized society.
Go gender free. Yeah, I can do that.
Even squirrels can go gender free without losing their nuts.
But don’t start calling your mom and dad female and male parent. That’s weird.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Misteragus
“Mr Agus, why are you so quiet?” asked a university intern as she parked in front of my cubicle.
“I guess I have nothing to say” I told her.
She’s now in her three weeks of her three months internship and gradually bonding with the rest of the crew at work. The fact that she’s attached to the second company (billboard advertising) owned by Boss gave us nothing much to exchange, apart from setting up her laptop’s networking and computer system optimization.
“But it makes you invisible…” she added.
That quickly pulled a smile on my face and I replied “That’s good. Really good!”
“That’s not good. You’re invisible. It’s like you’re not here.” She begged to differ.
“Oh it’s good” I assured her. And she went on to chat with the receptionist.
.
.
.
Well how about that! Now there’s one person who’s not afraid to ask, and she’s only been here three weeks! Very thoughtful indeed.
As usual, I didn’t give it a rest. I continued to ponder the reason that justifies my silent behavior.
The office is a place where work dominates the conversation. When work scopes don’t collide, silence is golden. When my time is not occupied with work, the internet satisfies me with good education; whatever I need to learn, it’s bound to be there. From curing a lethally infected PC to the best nasi lemak recipe, everything is there if you know how and where to look. If I have loads of spare time, I blog.
Sometimes you’ll see me walk around the office rearranging stuff, improvising the way things work; be it the jammed toilet door, the cluttered store in the pantry or the choked toner vessel in the copy machine. When that doesn’t work, I’ll snake out to the nearest mall, mostly having lunch with a friend or two.
Unlike friends, workmates and their life stories are a daily encounter. All I need to do is ask, and if I don’t, it means I’m not interested. But if you really want to share, by all means, start the discussion thread. You’ll be surprised with what I have to share about the things I deem worthwhile. And it’s quite different when we have functions out of the office.
Yes, we do have our own in-house chatterboxes. Make that the one-and-only chatterbox. Throw anything at him and he will chat you silly. Have a napkin ready for your melted earwax. Even when you start to hint boredom and time out, he would go on and on, until you finally walk away. It’s a good thing he’s not always in the office. Working for sales in billboard advertising warrants him to go places and meet people. Come to think of it, he is in the right business. But don’t get me wrong, he does deliver.
And deliver I do as well. The only difference is I often do it quietly. It’s really not too much if I claim to be the unseen force quietly making things happen in the background, things that are expected of me. But that doesn’t make me a lonesome cowboy either. I fiercely believe in teamwork.
Seriously, nothing pisses people off like a huge empty can tumbling down fleets of bare concrete stairs. It’s noisy and achieves absolutely nothing, well, except for destructive relocation.
“So Mr. Agus, what do you do during weekends?” she continued asking, obviously trying to start a conversation, from one cubicle away no less.
“Oh, not much. If no one calls me to hang out and I’ve not planned anything with friends, I’ll be at home watching Astro”
“What channel? Vaan?” she chuckled.
Huh? What was that about? She’s Indian; was that meant to be a joke? Society and television taught me that racist jokes are only acceptable internally, or when it is told by a person of the race in reference, i.e. only blacks can tell black jokes. Or maybe I misunderstood.
I played it safe and said “Nah, now I fancy channel 78, Discovery Real Time. Loads of stuff about cars”
After a long pause and clicks on her pc, she was at it again.
“Guess what Mr. Agus. I saw your picture from our accounts exec’s wedding pictures.”
“Yeah, that was two years ago I think.”
“You look so cute, with that chubby face. You look so different now” she remarked.
“What do you mean cute? Chubby is not cute on me.”
“It is. You look so cute and chubby. Why so different now?” she asked.
“I lost a lot of weight, that’s why”
“But why?” she just had to ask.
“Because I thought I needed to” I said and she dropped it. We continued whatever we were doing till lunch. I seriously wanted to point her to my earlier blog entry, my detailed weight loss adventure but that would bring her here. Not that this entry trashes her up or anything. It’s just not the time yet, or ever. And I don’t think she blogs, yet.
“I guess I have nothing to say” I told her.
She’s now in her three weeks of her three months internship and gradually bonding with the rest of the crew at work. The fact that she’s attached to the second company (billboard advertising) owned by Boss gave us nothing much to exchange, apart from setting up her laptop’s networking and computer system optimization.
“But it makes you invisible…” she added.
That quickly pulled a smile on my face and I replied “That’s good. Really good!”
“That’s not good. You’re invisible. It’s like you’re not here.” She begged to differ.
“Oh it’s good” I assured her. And she went on to chat with the receptionist.
.
.
.
Well how about that! Now there’s one person who’s not afraid to ask, and she’s only been here three weeks! Very thoughtful indeed.
As usual, I didn’t give it a rest. I continued to ponder the reason that justifies my silent behavior.
The office is a place where work dominates the conversation. When work scopes don’t collide, silence is golden. When my time is not occupied with work, the internet satisfies me with good education; whatever I need to learn, it’s bound to be there. From curing a lethally infected PC to the best nasi lemak recipe, everything is there if you know how and where to look. If I have loads of spare time, I blog.
Sometimes you’ll see me walk around the office rearranging stuff, improvising the way things work; be it the jammed toilet door, the cluttered store in the pantry or the choked toner vessel in the copy machine. When that doesn’t work, I’ll snake out to the nearest mall, mostly having lunch with a friend or two.
Unlike friends, workmates and their life stories are a daily encounter. All I need to do is ask, and if I don’t, it means I’m not interested. But if you really want to share, by all means, start the discussion thread. You’ll be surprised with what I have to share about the things I deem worthwhile. And it’s quite different when we have functions out of the office.
Yes, we do have our own in-house chatterboxes. Make that the one-and-only chatterbox. Throw anything at him and he will chat you silly. Have a napkin ready for your melted earwax. Even when you start to hint boredom and time out, he would go on and on, until you finally walk away. It’s a good thing he’s not always in the office. Working for sales in billboard advertising warrants him to go places and meet people. Come to think of it, he is in the right business. But don’t get me wrong, he does deliver.
And deliver I do as well. The only difference is I often do it quietly. It’s really not too much if I claim to be the unseen force quietly making things happen in the background, things that are expected of me. But that doesn’t make me a lonesome cowboy either. I fiercely believe in teamwork.
Seriously, nothing pisses people off like a huge empty can tumbling down fleets of bare concrete stairs. It’s noisy and achieves absolutely nothing, well, except for destructive relocation.
“So Mr. Agus, what do you do during weekends?” she continued asking, obviously trying to start a conversation, from one cubicle away no less.
“Oh, not much. If no one calls me to hang out and I’ve not planned anything with friends, I’ll be at home watching Astro”
“What channel? Vaan?” she chuckled.
Huh? What was that about? She’s Indian; was that meant to be a joke? Society and television taught me that racist jokes are only acceptable internally, or when it is told by a person of the race in reference, i.e. only blacks can tell black jokes. Or maybe I misunderstood.
I played it safe and said “Nah, now I fancy channel 78, Discovery Real Time. Loads of stuff about cars”
After a long pause and clicks on her pc, she was at it again.
“Guess what Mr. Agus. I saw your picture from our accounts exec’s wedding pictures.”
“Yeah, that was two years ago I think.”
“You look so cute, with that chubby face. You look so different now” she remarked.
“What do you mean cute? Chubby is not cute on me.”
“It is. You look so cute and chubby. Why so different now?” she asked.
“I lost a lot of weight, that’s why”
“But why?” she just had to ask.
“Because I thought I needed to” I said and she dropped it. We continued whatever we were doing till lunch. I seriously wanted to point her to my earlier blog entry, my detailed weight loss adventure but that would bring her here. Not that this entry trashes her up or anything. It’s just not the time yet, or ever. And I don’t think she blogs, yet.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Leaking
Is your roof waterproof?
Trust the minister to tell you it needs to be. He puts the roof in waterproof. He’ll also tell you it’s going to cost a lot.
Trust the minister to tell you it needs to be. He puts the roof in waterproof. He’ll also tell you it’s going to cost a lot.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
This ain't a scene
Two Saturdays ago (yeah, it’s been a while), I walked into Nando’s Restaurant at Bangsar Village to have late lunch while my car underwent regular service at a workshop nearby.
I ordered my favorite extra hot whole leg with mediterranean rice and fresco salad. A complete meal.
“Your chicken will be ready in ten minutes” said the waiter.
“Thank you”
I sat facing the entrance, a vantage point for people watching. A few groups of people entered and their orders taken.
While I waited there was a commotion at the cashier counter behind me.
“Oh that’s just great. 58 bucks flying out of my pocket!” said a waiter.
“How come they just walked out without paying?” asked a waitress.
“Well, maybe they thought they’ve paid so they just took a damn hike!” the waiter guessed, obviously furious.
The discussion spilled into the kitchen and after a while I heard the waiter said “Ok, that would be 58 bucks divided by four. Damn! Fourteen fifty out of my pocket, just like that!”
Having done a fair share of waiting I know this kind of crap happens no matter how hard you try to avoid it. It sucks.
All that and I was still waiting.
When ten minutes became fifteen I started to take note of other diners waiting for their food.
“Yeah, they were already seated when I came in. Them too. Ah, that mother and teenage son came in after me. If and when their food comes before mine, I’ll speak.”
After twenty minutes, sure enough, they started eating.
“Oh this is not right. Where’s mine. What happened to ‘first come first served’? As if bad timing isn't already a problem” I thought.
I flagged a waitress and asked about my order which was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago.
She went to the computer and started to click through the order database, just to get back to me with “uhm, the waiter didn’t key in your order earlier”
“But he said my chicken will be ready in ten minutes” I told her.
“Let me check with the kitchen” her panic expression surfaced and she toddled like a chicken toward the kitchen.
Another discussion ensued at the counter behind me. Thinking like only a customer would, I got up, approached the counter and participated in the discussion for what it's worth.
“Is my chicken even on the stove yet? Do you see that mother and her teenage son? (I pointed) They came in five minutes after me and they’re now tucking in nicely” I firmly explained my situation.
“It’s ready now sir” said one of them as she pointed to the plate over the dispatch counter.
“Huh? That fast? Ok then”
“We’ll send it over right away” she confirmed as I turned to walk to my seat. I can’t help but wonder who’s plate they instantly shoved as mine.
A waitress placed the plate in front of me and said softly “Sir, my manager said you don’t have to pay for this one”. I sensed a ‘gulp’ in her speech.
“I don’t have to pay?” I repeated.
“No sir” she answered.
“Ok.” I couldn’t decide how to set my facial expression so it was left void. I mean, should I smile when just a nanosecond ago I seemed mildly agitated?
As I started to dig in, another woman approached me. Probably the manager.
“I’m very sorry for that mistake sir. You don’t have to pay for the meal. It’s on me.”
“Seriously? You don't have to take it that far” I suggested. It's rhetoric, I know.
“Yes, seriously. Your time is more important. Enjoy your meal”
“Thank you very much”
Needless to say, it wasn’t just a meal, for a whilrwind of thoughts rushed in as I was munching away.
“Oh that was too easy. It almost made me look like I was waiting for this to happen. Wait a minute, that don’t sound right. Neither does it look right.!” I thought.
Indeed it was an unsatisfactory service but that doesn’t mean I deserve a free lunch, not on someone else’s expense. It ain't a scene that I wanted; I just wanted someone to know they screwed up and learn from it. Strive to improve. People make mistakes and everyone deserves a second chance, provided they don’t take it for granted.
Besides, in less than an hour, this would make the second incident of forking out the staff’s cash after a group of diners simply walked out without paying. These guys have had a rough day. Plus the manager owned up and apologized. I would feel real awkward, not to mention guilty, just walking out of that joint. It's almost like saying 'thanks for lunch, suckers...'
“Alright, here’s what I’ll do; I’m gonna ask to pay for this meal, at least settle for a discount. Yeah, they could take my drink off the bill. If that doesn't work, I'll just leave a ten ringgit tip. That's a fair price. Yeah, I always enjoy Nando's chicken, so it's worth it. ”
That settled, I continued to finish my lunch.
Instead of calling for the bill, I went straight to the cash register and asked to speak to the manager again. While one of them went to call the manager out, I scanned the counter for a tip box; none.
“I want to pay for my meal” I told her.
“No sir, it’s on me” she said.
“No, I mean it, let me pay”
“The bill’s already taken care of” she said smiling.
“You have the courtesy of owning up and apologize. Now I need to feel better” I exposed my agenda.
She smiled more and said “No, it’s fine. Next time sir. Next time you bring your friends here”
“Alright then. Thank you very much”
Geez, some people just have to have the last word. But trying to be the better man didn’t fail, for I dealt with a good woman.
I ordered my favorite extra hot whole leg with mediterranean rice and fresco salad. A complete meal.
“Your chicken will be ready in ten minutes” said the waiter.
“Thank you”
I sat facing the entrance, a vantage point for people watching. A few groups of people entered and their orders taken.
While I waited there was a commotion at the cashier counter behind me.
“Oh that’s just great. 58 bucks flying out of my pocket!” said a waiter.
“How come they just walked out without paying?” asked a waitress.
“Well, maybe they thought they’ve paid so they just took a damn hike!” the waiter guessed, obviously furious.
The discussion spilled into the kitchen and after a while I heard the waiter said “Ok, that would be 58 bucks divided by four. Damn! Fourteen fifty out of my pocket, just like that!”
Having done a fair share of waiting I know this kind of crap happens no matter how hard you try to avoid it. It sucks.
All that and I was still waiting.
When ten minutes became fifteen I started to take note of other diners waiting for their food.
“Yeah, they were already seated when I came in. Them too. Ah, that mother and teenage son came in after me. If and when their food comes before mine, I’ll speak.”
After twenty minutes, sure enough, they started eating.
“Oh this is not right. Where’s mine. What happened to ‘first come first served’? As if bad timing isn't already a problem” I thought.
I flagged a waitress and asked about my order which was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago.
She went to the computer and started to click through the order database, just to get back to me with “uhm, the waiter didn’t key in your order earlier”
“But he said my chicken will be ready in ten minutes” I told her.
“Let me check with the kitchen” her panic expression surfaced and she toddled like a chicken toward the kitchen.
Another discussion ensued at the counter behind me. Thinking like only a customer would, I got up, approached the counter and participated in the discussion for what it's worth.
“Is my chicken even on the stove yet? Do you see that mother and her teenage son? (I pointed) They came in five minutes after me and they’re now tucking in nicely” I firmly explained my situation.
“It’s ready now sir” said one of them as she pointed to the plate over the dispatch counter.
“Huh? That fast? Ok then”
“We’ll send it over right away” she confirmed as I turned to walk to my seat. I can’t help but wonder who’s plate they instantly shoved as mine.
A waitress placed the plate in front of me and said softly “Sir, my manager said you don’t have to pay for this one”. I sensed a ‘gulp’ in her speech.
“I don’t have to pay?” I repeated.
“No sir” she answered.
“Ok.” I couldn’t decide how to set my facial expression so it was left void. I mean, should I smile when just a nanosecond ago I seemed mildly agitated?
As I started to dig in, another woman approached me. Probably the manager.
“I’m very sorry for that mistake sir. You don’t have to pay for the meal. It’s on me.”
“Seriously? You don't have to take it that far” I suggested. It's rhetoric, I know.
“Yes, seriously. Your time is more important. Enjoy your meal”
“Thank you very much”
Needless to say, it wasn’t just a meal, for a whilrwind of thoughts rushed in as I was munching away.
“Oh that was too easy. It almost made me look like I was waiting for this to happen. Wait a minute, that don’t sound right. Neither does it look right.!” I thought.
Indeed it was an unsatisfactory service but that doesn’t mean I deserve a free lunch, not on someone else’s expense. It ain't a scene that I wanted; I just wanted someone to know they screwed up and learn from it. Strive to improve. People make mistakes and everyone deserves a second chance, provided they don’t take it for granted.
Besides, in less than an hour, this would make the second incident of forking out the staff’s cash after a group of diners simply walked out without paying. These guys have had a rough day. Plus the manager owned up and apologized. I would feel real awkward, not to mention guilty, just walking out of that joint. It's almost like saying 'thanks for lunch, suckers...'
“Alright, here’s what I’ll do; I’m gonna ask to pay for this meal, at least settle for a discount. Yeah, they could take my drink off the bill. If that doesn't work, I'll just leave a ten ringgit tip. That's a fair price. Yeah, I always enjoy Nando's chicken, so it's worth it. ”
That settled, I continued to finish my lunch.
Instead of calling for the bill, I went straight to the cash register and asked to speak to the manager again. While one of them went to call the manager out, I scanned the counter for a tip box; none.
“I want to pay for my meal” I told her.
“No sir, it’s on me” she said.
“No, I mean it, let me pay”
“The bill’s already taken care of” she said smiling.
“You have the courtesy of owning up and apologize. Now I need to feel better” I exposed my agenda.
She smiled more and said “No, it’s fine. Next time sir. Next time you bring your friends here”
“Alright then. Thank you very much”
Geez, some people just have to have the last word. But trying to be the better man didn’t fail, for I dealt with a good woman.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
This little piggy...
“It’s hard to keep a pig pink in the cage”
That's the quote from a friend when I told him about a certain friend who still manages to arrange rendezvous with the ladies despite being heavily guarded by his fiancé.
It’s hardly self explanatory.
“How does that phrase relate? Why pink? And where did you get that?” I demanded.
“I don’t know. Somebody told me that proverb. Evidently, it has something to do with the pig’s health and appearance being restricted to a confined space” he explained.
The pig in cage relates to the person in chains. It describes his mental state and fidelity under tight scrutiny.
Let’s see, a pig caged, in a barn or a sty without proper cleaning will live in its own filth, i.e. piss and shit. In time, the typical pink skin will stain and its mental and physical health becomes questionable. (I wonder if a pig really cares.)
Maybe that’s where the expression ‘in the pink of health’ originated from.
Relatively, a man heavily guarded and monitored by his significant other could turn rebellious; in search for fresh air and personal space. How can anyone expect him to stay clean and faithful?
But do picture this; if a pig is let loose it will run happily in the fields, make new friends and soak in the mud. And then there's sun tan. How then will it ever stay pink?
Which reminds me, I gotta catch Wild Hogs soon.
That's the quote from a friend when I told him about a certain friend who still manages to arrange rendezvous with the ladies despite being heavily guarded by his fiancé.
It’s hardly self explanatory.
“How does that phrase relate? Why pink? And where did you get that?” I demanded.
“I don’t know. Somebody told me that proverb. Evidently, it has something to do with the pig’s health and appearance being restricted to a confined space” he explained.
The pig in cage relates to the person in chains. It describes his mental state and fidelity under tight scrutiny.
Let’s see, a pig caged, in a barn or a sty without proper cleaning will live in its own filth, i.e. piss and shit. In time, the typical pink skin will stain and its mental and physical health becomes questionable. (I wonder if a pig really cares.)
Maybe that’s where the expression ‘in the pink of health’ originated from.
Relatively, a man heavily guarded and monitored by his significant other could turn rebellious; in search for fresh air and personal space. How can anyone expect him to stay clean and faithful?
But do picture this; if a pig is let loose it will run happily in the fields, make new friends and soak in the mud. And then there's sun tan. How then will it ever stay pink?
Which reminds me, I gotta catch Wild Hogs soon.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What it takes
Recent turn of events, tragic as they may be, gave me the impression of how things really work around here.
A workmate took a few days off to take part in the recent by election in Machap. He returned to work feeling good about all the developments going around in Machap.
"That small town is abuzz with activities! The mosque has a new set of paint, the roads are freshly paved and repaved, the community hall is finally taking shape and there's a new park in town! There is good in the demise of the representative, it seems" he concluded.
The second wave is hitting Ijok and the people has reasons to p'p'p'party! They are banking on new promises as dead projects are resurrected and new ones are born. Sleepers wake up and those with agenda scramble to please the people. It is one of those times, if not the only time the people are made to feel in power.
I know I've illustrated the obvious but can you blame me? The circus is in town!
A workmate took a few days off to take part in the recent by election in Machap. He returned to work feeling good about all the developments going around in Machap.
"That small town is abuzz with activities! The mosque has a new set of paint, the roads are freshly paved and repaved, the community hall is finally taking shape and there's a new park in town! There is good in the demise of the representative, it seems" he concluded.
The second wave is hitting Ijok and the people has reasons to p'p'p'party! They are banking on new promises as dead projects are resurrected and new ones are born. Sleepers wake up and those with agenda scramble to please the people. It is one of those times, if not the only time the people are made to feel in power.
I know I've illustrated the obvious but can you blame me? The circus is in town!
Friday, April 13, 2007
It's you
This morning I had a curious dream. Just before I woke up a little late for work, I was at the church entrance in Miri, calling a friend to drive me back to my house to get my wedding suit. Yeah, I was getting married!
Several minutes passed and Terrence arrived. Soon we were at my house in Miri. I rushed to grab all the wedding accessories prepared earlier and to my horror, I left my jacket in KL!
“Can I just wear my business attire without the jacket?” I asked someone over the phone.
“No. You have to be in a suit!” came the reply.
“Oh crap. What am I gonna do! It’s already 11.30 and I gotta be there at noon!” I said as I flipped through my dad’s jacket collection.
“But these are too big, and old school! Oh, what if I wear a traditional Bidayuh vest. But who has one? I only know someone who has an Iban vest. It’s not the same!...Arghh! Dad’ friends maybe, but it’s too late to ask around!” I thought.
Several minutes passed and Terrence arrived. Soon we were at my house in Miri. I rushed to grab all the wedding accessories prepared earlier and to my horror, I left my jacket in KL!
“Can I just wear my business attire without the jacket?” I asked someone over the phone.
“No. You have to be in a suit!” came the reply.
“Oh crap. What am I gonna do! It’s already 11.30 and I gotta be there at noon!” I said as I flipped through my dad’s jacket collection.
“But these are too big, and old school! Oh, what if I wear a traditional Bidayuh vest. But who has one? I only know someone who has an Iban vest. It’s not the same!...Arghh! Dad’ friends maybe, but it’s too late to ask around!” I thought.
A pair of Bidayuh newlyweds, in traditional bidayuh suits.
A pair of Iban newlyweds, in traditional Iban suits.“Can we postpone the wedding?” I asked my best man.
“Nope. The guests are already there. It’ll be a disaster if we do”, said the best man, whoever he was.
“It already is!” I exclaimed in despair and woke up.
“What the hell was that all about? Me getting married? I’m not even engaged.” I thought.
I crawled out of bed and made a bee line to the shower, puzzled but unconcerned.
In the car the radio DJ kept telling listeners that it is Friday the 13th and how some people have that taboo belief rigged deep in them. The DJs gave examples of every known places where the number 13 is never used; in buildings, airport terminal gates and the aircraft seat number, to name a few. Over the years and many bizarre experiences people become attached to it.
Yeah, more like it got attached to them. They never relate to me, these bad luck numbers.
At work, Michael buzzed me on Yahoo messenger. He told me he’s getting married and I’m invited as a VVIP friend. We go a long way back.
Mike: I want to invite you to my wedding
Agus: Whoa!
Mike: What’s with the whoa?
Agus: You wanna know something bizarre?
Mike: What?
Agus: Oh, the ‘whoa’ was for someone getting married. The bizarre part is just this morning I dreamt that I was late for my own wedding and I have no suit.
Mike: That’s a weird but really funny dream.
Agus: I sort of seen this coming. Only now I know it’s you.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Just older
Thanks for the birthday wishes guys. Bloggers, Friendsters, mailers, texters, 'in-person'ers, you're all precious!
Contrary to popular belief, there was nothing spectacularly worrisome about turning 30 for me. All the birthday greetings drifted in like whiffs of great coffee and settled like a premium cheese cake; heart warming and satisfying.
A week past 30 now, I feel exactly like I did a month ago. Haha, I can almost hear some snigger ‘wait till you hit 40’. Oh it's forty now? Whatever. My point is, people cope with aging differently and at different stages. There is no point arguing about that.
I can’t deny having questions about getting to the big 'three oh' myself. Curious actually. What’s the big fuss?
A few minutes on the internet gave the picture of a person’s “achievements” at thirty;the things to be expected and the next course of action. I know, a little too late to go through the list. “You should’ve done that five years ago” I hear you say. Oh well, I love my time and I take mine sweet. Sail on, steer on.
Anyway, that got me going “yeah, been there”, “done that” and “eh?!”. There were also many “hmm, now that’s new…”, “ah, let’s try that…” and “nah, not for me”.
~Long story cut short here~
“Welcome to the club” they said as we chinked our glasses and played Blackjack that night.
Being the birthday boy, I got wasted *mandatory* and ended up in the passenger seat as my friend drove my car back, on a really early Tuesday morning! I felt horrible about that, and the only lame excuse I can think of was 'it's my birthday, look at me go...'
Sorry Sam, I messed up.
But hey, that’s another story.
~Long story cut short here~again
As brief as it was, turning 30 was definitely an education, the reason for the fuss in the first place.
Looking at the list of suggested achievements, I chose the ones best suited for my path. This I will continue doing because the list will always add on; so it’s never too late. Plus there’s no pressure that way. And it’s no fun having limited purposes in life.
Voila! I’m thirty. Bring it!
Contrary to popular belief, there was nothing spectacularly worrisome about turning 30 for me. All the birthday greetings drifted in like whiffs of great coffee and settled like a premium cheese cake; heart warming and satisfying.
A week past 30 now, I feel exactly like I did a month ago. Haha, I can almost hear some snigger ‘wait till you hit 40’. Oh it's forty now? Whatever. My point is, people cope with aging differently and at different stages. There is no point arguing about that.
I can’t deny having questions about getting to the big 'three oh' myself. Curious actually. What’s the big fuss?
A few minutes on the internet gave the picture of a person’s “achievements” at thirty;the things to be expected and the next course of action. I know, a little too late to go through the list. “You should’ve done that five years ago” I hear you say. Oh well, I love my time and I take mine sweet. Sail on, steer on.
Anyway, that got me going “yeah, been there”, “done that” and “eh?!”. There were also many “hmm, now that’s new…”, “ah, let’s try that…” and “nah, not for me”.
~Long story cut short here~
“Welcome to the club” they said as we chinked our glasses and played Blackjack that night.
Being the birthday boy, I got wasted *mandatory* and ended up in the passenger seat as my friend drove my car back, on a really early Tuesday morning! I felt horrible about that, and the only lame excuse I can think of was 'it's my birthday, look at me go...'
Sorry Sam, I messed up.
But hey, that’s another story.
~Long story cut short here~again
As brief as it was, turning 30 was definitely an education, the reason for the fuss in the first place.
Looking at the list of suggested achievements, I chose the ones best suited for my path. This I will continue doing because the list will always add on; so it’s never too late. Plus there’s no pressure that way. And it’s no fun having limited purposes in life.
Voila! I’m thirty. Bring it!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Heroes
Heroes Episode 8 on Star World last night was mind blowing and revealing. But the character that caught my attention was Ted, the radioactive man. Actually, I was gripped since last week when Star World showed preview clips of this week’s show. It wasn’t so much of his ability but the thing he did in the interrogation room.
He boiled a glass of water with his bare hands; sort of like a dream I had and posted in X-Dream, October 20th, 2006.
And I quote; “…The conversation was strangely about heating a glass of water with bare hands. The demonstration was done by the wiser elder. Both his palms were holding the side of the glass and I could see the water starting to bubble. Vapors were appearing and finally the water boiled. I was so impressed that I took the glass and tried my hands at it. I clasped the now warm glass tightly. Nothing happened at first. I began to intensify my concentration and regulate my breathing. I remember someone said that breathing helps in meditation.
Or was it child labor?
Anyway, I soon saw small bubbles appear but the action was disrupted by my breathing cycles. The water seemed to be heating and bubbling when I inhaled deeply and stopped when I exhale. But I was pretty ecstatic with the result. I could actually heat water with my bare hands!”
Well, not exactly similar but close. And the interrogation room looked like the class I attended for the workshop.
When I saw clips of the scene last week, I thought "Hey, that looks really familiar. Wow! I sort'a dreamt that scene some time ago. Haha..." And that got me excited the whole week. After watching the show, I still am.
I'm easily amused like that. Plus it's a damn cool show!
Maybe it's time I pay a visit to the pirates, get the whole season pack of DVD. Or look for friends who's done it already.
'Save the cheerleader, save the world'
He boiled a glass of water with his bare hands; sort of like a dream I had and posted in X-Dream, October 20th, 2006.And I quote; “…The conversation was strangely about heating a glass of water with bare hands. The demonstration was done by the wiser elder. Both his palms were holding the side of the glass and I could see the water starting to bubble. Vapors were appearing and finally the water boiled. I was so impressed that I took the glass and tried my hands at it. I clasped the now warm glass tightly. Nothing happened at first. I began to intensify my concentration and regulate my breathing. I remember someone said that breathing helps in meditation.
Or was it child labor?
Anyway, I soon saw small bubbles appear but the action was disrupted by my breathing cycles. The water seemed to be heating and bubbling when I inhaled deeply and stopped when I exhale. But I was pretty ecstatic with the result. I could actually heat water with my bare hands!”
Well, not exactly similar but close. And the interrogation room looked like the class I attended for the workshop.
When I saw clips of the scene last week, I thought "Hey, that looks really familiar. Wow! I sort'a dreamt that scene some time ago. Haha..." And that got me excited the whole week. After watching the show, I still am.
I'm easily amused like that. Plus it's a damn cool show!
Maybe it's time I pay a visit to the pirates, get the whole season pack of DVD. Or look for friends who's done it already.
'Save the cheerleader, save the world'
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Cofree
I heard a guy named William announce on FlyFM that today is Starbucks Free Coffee day. He said Starbucks is giving free drip coffee to customers between 10am and 12 noon.
I'm not sure if it works in all stores nationwide and how many cups per person but I'm heading out to Starbucks to get my breakfast shot, free, I think. A sandwich would help it go down nicely.
I'm not sure if it works in all stores nationwide and how many cups per person but I'm heading out to Starbucks to get my breakfast shot, free, I think. A sandwich would help it go down nicely.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Egg'cellent
Okay, so you’ve got tons of cool wishes for the Lunar New Year. I got three! Yay!
My maternal grandfather is Chinese and that’s about all the oriental heritage that runs in my family. During the Japanese occupation, his family was forced to integrate into the Bidayuh community and embrace the tribal way of life deep in the rural villages. Being one with the tribe, his family and many others escaped bleak future, torture and even death by the Japanese. Inevitably, their cultural heritage dissolved into a thin layer of memory which occasionally makes its way through the generations during small talks and as a pick up line at the bar, or as a sideline issue in a blog entry such as this.
It does make an interesting article, that is, once I gather all the data from the man himself and his children; my uncles and aunts. Yup, another item to add to my to-do-list-soon, real soon. For now though, like I said, the only connection I have with this culture is a hint (a quarter to be exact) of Chinese facial features and a handful of good friends.
Friends I’m proud to have. Friends who wishes me a prosperous Chinese New Year when they know I won’t be tossing any shreds of fish and vegetables to welcome the auspicious year. Oh but the fire boar is always good to greet. Good to eat. Pit roasted and all.
All kinds of wishes came my way too, including this one;
“My wish for you is to be continuously reincarnated as an egg. This way, you’ll get laid every morning, get sucked every day and get hard in 3 minutes. Happy Chinese New Year!”
Okay, I get most of it, the meaning, except for the second reason that sucked. Hey, don’t ask me. I haven’t a clue. Besides, it’s just for fun. Something to crack you up on New Year’s Eve, or during breakfast in bed, or whatever. Spouse’ presence highly recommended.
And by the way, it kinda’ gives you the assurance to that age old question of which came first. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I believe the egg always comes first.
I might be totally wrong. After all, I’m just an egg.
Happy New Year everyone!
My maternal grandfather is Chinese and that’s about all the oriental heritage that runs in my family. During the Japanese occupation, his family was forced to integrate into the Bidayuh community and embrace the tribal way of life deep in the rural villages. Being one with the tribe, his family and many others escaped bleak future, torture and even death by the Japanese. Inevitably, their cultural heritage dissolved into a thin layer of memory which occasionally makes its way through the generations during small talks and as a pick up line at the bar, or as a sideline issue in a blog entry such as this.
It does make an interesting article, that is, once I gather all the data from the man himself and his children; my uncles and aunts. Yup, another item to add to my to-do-list-soon, real soon. For now though, like I said, the only connection I have with this culture is a hint (a quarter to be exact) of Chinese facial features and a handful of good friends.
Friends I’m proud to have. Friends who wishes me a prosperous Chinese New Year when they know I won’t be tossing any shreds of fish and vegetables to welcome the auspicious year. Oh but the fire boar is always good to greet. Good to eat. Pit roasted and all.
All kinds of wishes came my way too, including this one;
“My wish for you is to be continuously reincarnated as an egg. This way, you’ll get laid every morning, get sucked every day and get hard in 3 minutes. Happy Chinese New Year!”
Okay, I get most of it, the meaning, except for the second reason that sucked. Hey, don’t ask me. I haven’t a clue. Besides, it’s just for fun. Something to crack you up on New Year’s Eve, or during breakfast in bed, or whatever. Spouse’ presence highly recommended.
And by the way, it kinda’ gives you the assurance to that age old question of which came first. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I believe the egg always comes first.
I might be totally wrong. After all, I’m just an egg.
Happy New Year everyone!
Friday, February 16, 2007
La Luna
Happy Chinese New Year everyone.
It'll be a long holiday in Malaysia.
Happy Holiday!
The year of the Fire Boar this time. That's hot!
It'll be a long holiday in Malaysia.
Happy Holiday!
The year of the Fire Boar this time. That's hot!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Yellow
I woke up on Wednesday morning with a few groans, some huffs and several sighs.
“Huh… what were those about?” I asked myself.
My body felt unusually warm.
My limbs were not their usual steady selves in the shower and there were traces of aches in my muscles and joints. Driving to work required more focus and effort than usual.
I started to feel very cold in the office. My body temperature felt otherwise; especially my head.
That was it. I knew I was down with high fever. And the thought that I might get another dose of yellow fever sent chills down my spine, in every sense of the word.
I immediately started the remedial procedure. Based on my previous yellow fever experience two years ago (or denggi as we fondly call it in this part of the world), the only known remedy is to keep yourself sufficiently hydrated. Drink like there’s no tomorrow. For there will be none if you fail.
I quickly looked up facts about yellow fever from multiple web sites to get confirmation - The signs, diagnosis, remedies and also prevention (yeah, a little late for that) made my fever stink very much like denggi. A bloody denggi deja vous!
My productivity declined as anxiety attacked but I decided to stay a while for some pressing matters. I drank gallons of water and convinced myself the cool office temperature would help keep mine down, thus avoiding any possible brain cell damage, despite instant chills and shiver every few minutes. Needless to say I went to the rest room to pee every 20 minutes or so.
I left work at half past five and continued drinking (good ol’ plain water this time) and resting through the night. I struggled to finish my dinner which fortunately didn’t taste like bitter medicine. Then I drank some more.
Laying my head on the pillow (with a wet towel) didn’t help with the high cranial temperature. In fact, it worked like a heat insulator for my head. Horror! So I slept in a reading-in-bed position, with the fan blowing in my face, my head leaning against the wooden headrest.
The night went by ever so slowly, as I drank every last drop of water I can possibly swallow. Peeing several times in an hour caused a slight burning sensation, a piercing feeling.
My effort may have all gone down the toilet but it was never flushed in vain.
“I better be well when I go for a check up tomorrow. This rear-right-side headache is bugging me like a cancer! And I’ll be damned if it’s denggi again.”
The next morning, feeling considerably better, no more body aching, except for a ‘lumpy’ residual headache at the back of my head, I went to University Malaya Medical Center as planned. I reached the reception counter at 8.30am, took a number and waited as told.
And boy did I wait...
After three hours I finally saw the doctor.
“How long since you had this fever?” she asked.
“Yesterday afternoon” I said, half hoping that her next question would be 'and how long did you have to wait outside?'
Tough luck.
“Any coughs?”, “Body aches”, “Vomitting?”
My response were all “No”
“Any denggi cases in the area you’re staying? This could be denggi.”
“Oh my place is denggi prone. I’m concerned this might be denggi as well. I was hospitalized here two years ago because of denggi. I spent three nights at the denggi ward upstairs.” I explained.
“Ok. Your blood pressure is quite good. Let’s test your total blood count. Once the nurse has taken your blood sample, get it to the lab and as soon as the result is displayed online, we’ll call you in. Hang around nearby.”
I was expecting a kind of enthusiasm from her considering this is my second time here for a somewhat similar reason, although it wasn't her the first time I came. But she was indifferent about it. No extra notes for repeat patients either.
On second thought, maybe there was nothing good to say.
Definitely not 'Oh is that right? Wellcome back then. It's a pleasure to have you here. Although I'd prefer not seeing you here, being sick and all. I'm not saying I don't want to see you but... well, you know what I mean'
25 minutes later,
“Your blood test came out negative for denggi. It's not denggi. Just regular high fever” said the doctor.
“Oh that’s good news” I said.
“I’ll just give you panadol ya. Drink a lot of water and get some rest.” She concluded.
That’s exactly what I did, my good doctor. I couldn’t agree more. Thank you very much.
After wating for a good 20 minutes for the common aspirin at the perscription counter, I took the rest of the Thursday off and recovered just in time for a good night’s sleep.
Today I’m as good as new.
“Huh… what were those about?” I asked myself.
My body felt unusually warm.
My limbs were not their usual steady selves in the shower and there were traces of aches in my muscles and joints. Driving to work required more focus and effort than usual.
I started to feel very cold in the office. My body temperature felt otherwise; especially my head.
That was it. I knew I was down with high fever. And the thought that I might get another dose of yellow fever sent chills down my spine, in every sense of the word.
I immediately started the remedial procedure. Based on my previous yellow fever experience two years ago (or denggi as we fondly call it in this part of the world), the only known remedy is to keep yourself sufficiently hydrated. Drink like there’s no tomorrow. For there will be none if you fail.
I quickly looked up facts about yellow fever from multiple web sites to get confirmation - The signs, diagnosis, remedies and also prevention (yeah, a little late for that) made my fever stink very much like denggi. A bloody denggi deja vous!
My productivity declined as anxiety attacked but I decided to stay a while for some pressing matters. I drank gallons of water and convinced myself the cool office temperature would help keep mine down, thus avoiding any possible brain cell damage, despite instant chills and shiver every few minutes. Needless to say I went to the rest room to pee every 20 minutes or so.
I left work at half past five and continued drinking (good ol’ plain water this time) and resting through the night. I struggled to finish my dinner which fortunately didn’t taste like bitter medicine. Then I drank some more.
Laying my head on the pillow (with a wet towel) didn’t help with the high cranial temperature. In fact, it worked like a heat insulator for my head. Horror! So I slept in a reading-in-bed position, with the fan blowing in my face, my head leaning against the wooden headrest.
The night went by ever so slowly, as I drank every last drop of water I can possibly swallow. Peeing several times in an hour caused a slight burning sensation, a piercing feeling.
My effort may have all gone down the toilet but it was never flushed in vain.
“I better be well when I go for a check up tomorrow. This rear-right-side headache is bugging me like a cancer! And I’ll be damned if it’s denggi again.”
The next morning, feeling considerably better, no more body aching, except for a ‘lumpy’ residual headache at the back of my head, I went to University Malaya Medical Center as planned. I reached the reception counter at 8.30am, took a number and waited as told.
And boy did I wait...
After three hours I finally saw the doctor.
“How long since you had this fever?” she asked.
“Yesterday afternoon” I said, half hoping that her next question would be 'and how long did you have to wait outside?'
Tough luck.
“Any coughs?”, “Body aches”, “Vomitting?”
My response were all “No”
“Any denggi cases in the area you’re staying? This could be denggi.”
“Oh my place is denggi prone. I’m concerned this might be denggi as well. I was hospitalized here two years ago because of denggi. I spent three nights at the denggi ward upstairs.” I explained.
“Ok. Your blood pressure is quite good. Let’s test your total blood count. Once the nurse has taken your blood sample, get it to the lab and as soon as the result is displayed online, we’ll call you in. Hang around nearby.”
I was expecting a kind of enthusiasm from her considering this is my second time here for a somewhat similar reason, although it wasn't her the first time I came. But she was indifferent about it. No extra notes for repeat patients either.
On second thought, maybe there was nothing good to say.
Definitely not 'Oh is that right? Wellcome back then. It's a pleasure to have you here. Although I'd prefer not seeing you here, being sick and all. I'm not saying I don't want to see you but... well, you know what I mean'
25 minutes later,
“Your blood test came out negative for denggi. It's not denggi. Just regular high fever” said the doctor.
“Oh that’s good news” I said.
“I’ll just give you panadol ya. Drink a lot of water and get some rest.” She concluded.
That’s exactly what I did, my good doctor. I couldn’t agree more. Thank you very much.
After wating for a good 20 minutes for the common aspirin at the perscription counter, I took the rest of the Thursday off and recovered just in time for a good night’s sleep.
Today I’m as good as new.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Random Sunday
It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Outside St. John’s Cathedral Bukit Nanas were droves of people catching up after the first early morning mass, mostly Pilipino, some African and the rest Malaysian. The church bells rang for the next service session, and I looked at my watch, 10.30am. “That’s my cue” I thought, rushing through the crowd as I try to locate my friend, Diego, waiting for me at the entrance.
“Right on time” he said, and we walked into the church with many others. We made our way to one of the pews at the balcony upstairs.
“It’s good to have a friend at church. It feels a bit weird sitting through the Sunday service alone” he said.
“Uhuh” I agreed.
“At least there’s someone to talk to, exchange notes and stuff. Usually, when I’m alone at church and the pastor slips in funny remarks during his sermon, I just keep it all in while everybody savors it with their friends and families; quite frustrating you know” he explained.
“Well, when you’re alone, you talk to God. That is what you do when you go to church”. I said, flashing a cynical smile.
Blimey! If we were anywhere else, we’d burst into a hysterical laughter.
Fortunately, both of us realized that we were in the house of God and kept it all in. There was plenty of time to laugh our heads off (which we did) after church; no heresy intended.
After church, on our way for lunch we chatted, updating each other on the latest happenings, about life, friends and families.
“You know, James’ been going to church every week with his new girlfriend” said Diego.
“Yeah? Haha, very much unlike the two of us” I added.
“He’s becoming more warak (Malay word for pious) it seems” Diego noted.
“If he’s warak, we must be rawak (Malay word for random)” I concluded.
And we were in stitches again.
“Right on time” he said, and we walked into the church with many others. We made our way to one of the pews at the balcony upstairs.
“It’s good to have a friend at church. It feels a bit weird sitting through the Sunday service alone” he said.
“Uhuh” I agreed.
“At least there’s someone to talk to, exchange notes and stuff. Usually, when I’m alone at church and the pastor slips in funny remarks during his sermon, I just keep it all in while everybody savors it with their friends and families; quite frustrating you know” he explained.
“Well, when you’re alone, you talk to God. That is what you do when you go to church”. I said, flashing a cynical smile.
Blimey! If we were anywhere else, we’d burst into a hysterical laughter.
Fortunately, both of us realized that we were in the house of God and kept it all in. There was plenty of time to laugh our heads off (which we did) after church; no heresy intended.
After church, on our way for lunch we chatted, updating each other on the latest happenings, about life, friends and families.
“You know, James’ been going to church every week with his new girlfriend” said Diego.
“Yeah? Haha, very much unlike the two of us” I added.
“He’s becoming more warak (Malay word for pious) it seems” Diego noted.
“If he’s warak, we must be rawak (Malay word for random)” I concluded.
And we were in stitches again.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Touched
I’ve got mails.
All 65 of them were manually deleted. They’re junk. All the anti spam wares, rules and alerts settings in the world couldn’t possibly keep them out. Not that they ruin my morning or anything. In fact, my morning routine is to manually delete every spam that manages to creep into my inbox, and I’m sure many do the same.
Once in a while however a certain subject caption screams for attention. Like so,
At a glance I would just happily press the delete button and get on with life. I would then go to the deleted item folder to scan for accidentally deleted genuine mails before they’re gone permanently. Most of the times I do it just to amuse myself, why waste eh? Seriously, check out the tagline.
How the hell do you know it’s so small, my dear Britten? Am I supposed to be moved by your query?
Pas de touché.
On second thought, maybe just a little bit, for amusement purposes of course.
Go ahead. Read the content.
Well, you don’t say…
Only 85 percent? Ladies, surely more of you care. What’s wrong with 100 percent?
Oh, yea, I forgot, it’s just junk.
All 65 of them were manually deleted. They’re junk. All the anti spam wares, rules and alerts settings in the world couldn’t possibly keep them out. Not that they ruin my morning or anything. In fact, my morning routine is to manually delete every spam that manages to creep into my inbox, and I’m sure many do the same.
Once in a while however a certain subject caption screams for attention. Like so,
At a glance I would just happily press the delete button and get on with life. I would then go to the deleted item folder to scan for accidentally deleted genuine mails before they’re gone permanently. Most of the times I do it just to amuse myself, why waste eh? Seriously, check out the tagline.
How the hell do you know it’s so small, my dear Britten? Am I supposed to be moved by your query?
Pas de touché.
On second thought, maybe just a little bit, for amusement purposes of course.
Go ahead. Read the content.
Well, you don’t say…
Only 85 percent? Ladies, surely more of you care. What’s wrong with 100 percent?
Oh, yea, I forgot, it’s just junk.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Greetings to 007
Receiving countless text wishes for Christmas and New Year was such a delight, but the guilt and frustration came just as swiftly, because like many others, I was unable to respond to any incoming text messages due to overwhelming traffic. Honestly!
I’m on DIGI, see.
I couldn’t even make a single call after frantically trying to reply text wishes. I gave up trying after accepting the fact (and believing) that one could be sending the same message to numerous people in his contact list. Remembering one another on the occasion then becomes mutual, whether there is a response or not. It was just a matter of who does it first, with the help of one’s contact list of course.
“Haha! I got to you first!”
Scrolling down the list will also make you say “Hmm, I didn’t know she’s still in my contact list…”
And how about that delayed response eh? I got a crazy new year wish from a friend which managed to squeeze the words suck, lick, thrust and ejaculate in a single sentence. I tried hard but I still can’t reproduce it here, or ever, but all it meant to say was have a great new year ahead. It gave me the broadest grin of course, and so I drafted a simple and appropriate response. However, due to limited bandwidth, I couldn’t send it out until the next day. I don’t know how my friend reacted when he read “You crazy b*tch! Happy New Year!”
I just hope he gets it.
P/S: I know I’m not the first one to wish all of you a Happy New Year. Heck who does? It’s been said since human counted the first year ever. Even then it was not accurate. Maybe if I wish you a Happy New 2008?
Nah… anyway, have a great 2007! We might just be lucky enough to get a surprise 007 flick this year. Unfeasibly appropriate don’t you think?
I’m on DIGI, see.
I couldn’t even make a single call after frantically trying to reply text wishes. I gave up trying after accepting the fact (and believing) that one could be sending the same message to numerous people in his contact list. Remembering one another on the occasion then becomes mutual, whether there is a response or not. It was just a matter of who does it first, with the help of one’s contact list of course.
“Haha! I got to you first!”
Scrolling down the list will also make you say “Hmm, I didn’t know she’s still in my contact list…”
And how about that delayed response eh? I got a crazy new year wish from a friend which managed to squeeze the words suck, lick, thrust and ejaculate in a single sentence. I tried hard but I still can’t reproduce it here, or ever, but all it meant to say was have a great new year ahead. It gave me the broadest grin of course, and so I drafted a simple and appropriate response. However, due to limited bandwidth, I couldn’t send it out until the next day. I don’t know how my friend reacted when he read “You crazy b*tch! Happy New Year!”
I just hope he gets it.
P/S: I know I’m not the first one to wish all of you a Happy New Year. Heck who does? It’s been said since human counted the first year ever. Even then it was not accurate. Maybe if I wish you a Happy New 2008?
Nah… anyway, have a great 2007! We might just be lucky enough to get a surprise 007 flick this year. Unfeasibly appropriate don’t you think?
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Hanky tanky
About a week ago I went to a petrol station to fill my car’s empty fuel tank. I filled it to the brim. I reset the meter to zero like I usually do but the fuel gauge pointed to half.
“Heh, it must need a few moments while the engine runs to fully erect” I thought.
Several kilometers went by but the gauge was still halfway. So I went at variable speeds, did a few sudden brakes, jerked my ride and drove uphill and down. Nothing happened.
“Damn! It’s stuck!” and I even tried knocking on it.
“Damn! It’s still stuck!”
It stayed that way for days and days. “Oh geez! Just what I need! My car’s first faulty instrument. Should I be expecting this? It’s not even three years old yet. I wonder how much it would cost to get fixed, or worse, replaced! Looks like I have to rely on the meter to estimate how much fuel I have left, for now.”
For diagnostic reasons, I planned to let the fuel run low, very low. Maybe, just maybe, thirst would bring it back to its senses.
Then yesterday morning as I was halfway to work, I glanced at the meter which indicated that I have about 50 kilometers to go before my next pit stop.
“How I wish the fuel gauge’s working” I sighed and checked the fuel level. I took another good look because the needle seemed to be pointing to ‘E’! Good Lord! I have never been so glad to see my fuel indicator show empty before.
“Hey! You’re back!” I exclaimed in joy and smiled all the way to work.
On my way home that evening I refueled my tank to one third and the gauge responded nicely. Maybe it choked when I last refueled; maybe it’s just playing with me.
“Heh, it must need a few moments while the engine runs to fully erect” I thought.
Several kilometers went by but the gauge was still halfway. So I went at variable speeds, did a few sudden brakes, jerked my ride and drove uphill and down. Nothing happened.
“Damn! It’s stuck!” and I even tried knocking on it.
“Damn! It’s still stuck!”
It stayed that way for days and days. “Oh geez! Just what I need! My car’s first faulty instrument. Should I be expecting this? It’s not even three years old yet. I wonder how much it would cost to get fixed, or worse, replaced! Looks like I have to rely on the meter to estimate how much fuel I have left, for now.”
For diagnostic reasons, I planned to let the fuel run low, very low. Maybe, just maybe, thirst would bring it back to its senses.
Then yesterday morning as I was halfway to work, I glanced at the meter which indicated that I have about 50 kilometers to go before my next pit stop.
“How I wish the fuel gauge’s working” I sighed and checked the fuel level. I took another good look because the needle seemed to be pointing to ‘E’! Good Lord! I have never been so glad to see my fuel indicator show empty before.
“Hey! You’re back!” I exclaimed in joy and smiled all the way to work.
On my way home that evening I refueled my tank to one third and the gauge responded nicely. Maybe it choked when I last refueled; maybe it’s just playing with me.
Friday, December 22, 2006
All decked up!
25 December falls on Monday this year. Wish it would fall on Sunday so we Malaysians could use Monday to recuperate after a long and hard Christmas party. All ready and willing for work on Tuesday. Those fortunate enough to get leaves days after that, rejoice.
But whatever.
Hear me cheer.
Bring all your merry bells out and jingle them all about!
Christmas’ right on time this year, can you hear the red nose reindeer?
Some dream of white, others have a blue, but you know what? I don’t have a clue.
See I’m running out of schnapps, and I’m too old (and heavy) for Santa’s lap
So all I want for Christmas is to do whatever I want to do.
Be it dim, be it bright, it sure won't be a silent night.
As for a holy night, well, you go'head'n decide.
While you’re at it, add to this bit by bit, just don’t give me any sh*t.
It's Christmas y'all.
But whatever.
Hear me cheer.
Bring all your merry bells out and jingle them all about!
Christmas’ right on time this year, can you hear the red nose reindeer?
Some dream of white, others have a blue, but you know what? I don’t have a clue.
See I’m running out of schnapps, and I’m too old (and heavy) for Santa’s lap
So all I want for Christmas is to do whatever I want to do.
Be it dim, be it bright, it sure won't be a silent night.
As for a holy night, well, you go'head'n decide.
While you’re at it, add to this bit by bit, just don’t give me any sh*t.
It's Christmas y'all.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Sealed...
One week after I was grounded by AirAsia, I flew to Kuching on Wednesday. This time, nothing unfortunate happened on my cheap fare flight. Besides, it was four days ahead of the deadline. I was on my way to my best friend’s wedding reception, scheduled on Saturday, 2nd December 2006. No, it’s nothing like Julia Robert’s.
Many months before the wedding date, after he announced his wedding intentions, I shamelessly told him “I want to be your best man”
And he said “Trust me, you’ll be the first one I’ll ask”
“Great! Just tell me the date in advance so I could get cheap airfare. You know how AirAsia works… tickets are usually cheaper months before flight date”
But things change and plans get reworked.
He e-mailed in March, “…This a top secret project (if you tell anyone I’d have to kill you). We (you know who) is planning the ‘BIG DAY’ maybe early December. One item in the checklist is emcee of the night. Since the guests would be multi-racial, if possible, the emcee must be able to speak Iban+English+Malay (Bidayuh also can). There are professional emcees but they are $$$$$$$. So I thought about you (how nice of me). Do you think you can handle the crowd, throw in a few jokes, do what emcee normally does?? You would be famous, well at least for that night. And if you are lucky you might grab the attention of pretty (or not so pretty) chicks (or aunty). Give it a thought and let me know.”
I replied;
“YES! I DO! Ehehe.
Tell me the date and I’ll kill to make myself available.
It is extremely delightful reading your mail. Not the ordinary forwarded stuff.
I’ll be your emcee alright. I’ll have a good exposure during my brother’s wedding in a longhouse in Bintulu. He’s marrying an Iban girl. Scheduled 3rd June. Time to brush up on my Iban then. And, I’ll be ready to go for your wedding. As for the crowd, I’ll work them like dough. Oh no, does that mean I’m not your best man? Anyway, if I have to choose, emcee is more exciting and involved”
Finally December came and I was excited to attend the wedding, despite being not quite ready with the emcee job. Work and socializing took much of my preparation time. Well, that’s just an excuse. But I was determined nonetheless.
I was also assigned with the video camera for the Church blessing in the Morning and the photography session at the Taman Sahabat park thereafter. Everything went well and as planned. Here are the morning pictures, starting with the make-up session at the bridal studio.
The groom in the background
While the bride was getting made, we took advantage of the various interesting sets and props at the studio.
The groom with the father and brother in law, and a friend.
The bride with the make up artist and the bridal's coordinator
At the altar.
After the church blessing ceremony.
Photo session at church. This went on for well over an hour. Too many cameras and guests, too little time (and patience; well, it's a once in a lifetime occasion after all.).
The married couple with two of the groom's highschool buddies (we're housemates).
The photo session tour at the park late that morning. I swear, everyone got unnecessarily tanned, especially at the forehead.
One of the many oriental themed structures at Taman Sahabat, Kuching.
These couples look cute. Cats and all.
Ok, make enough benches like this and one idiot is bound to get weird ideas. Foolish enough to post it here even. And you know what, I think this marriage is sealed solid, with a kiss!
Many months before the wedding date, after he announced his wedding intentions, I shamelessly told him “I want to be your best man”
And he said “Trust me, you’ll be the first one I’ll ask”
“Great! Just tell me the date in advance so I could get cheap airfare. You know how AirAsia works… tickets are usually cheaper months before flight date”
But things change and plans get reworked.
He e-mailed in March, “…This a top secret project (if you tell anyone I’d have to kill you). We (you know who) is planning the ‘BIG DAY’ maybe early December. One item in the checklist is emcee of the night. Since the guests would be multi-racial, if possible, the emcee must be able to speak Iban+English+Malay (Bidayuh also can). There are professional emcees but they are $$$$$$$. So I thought about you (how nice of me). Do you think you can handle the crowd, throw in a few jokes, do what emcee normally does?? You would be famous, well at least for that night. And if you are lucky you might grab the attention of pretty (or not so pretty) chicks (or aunty). Give it a thought and let me know.”
I replied;
“YES! I DO! Ehehe.
Tell me the date and I’ll kill to make myself available.
It is extremely delightful reading your mail. Not the ordinary forwarded stuff.
I’ll be your emcee alright. I’ll have a good exposure during my brother’s wedding in a longhouse in Bintulu. He’s marrying an Iban girl. Scheduled 3rd June. Time to brush up on my Iban then. And, I’ll be ready to go for your wedding. As for the crowd, I’ll work them like dough. Oh no, does that mean I’m not your best man? Anyway, if I have to choose, emcee is more exciting and involved”
Finally December came and I was excited to attend the wedding, despite being not quite ready with the emcee job. Work and socializing took much of my preparation time. Well, that’s just an excuse. But I was determined nonetheless.
I was also assigned with the video camera for the Church blessing in the Morning and the photography session at the Taman Sahabat park thereafter. Everything went well and as planned. Here are the morning pictures, starting with the make-up session at the bridal studio.
The groom in the background
While the bride was getting made, we took advantage of the various interesting sets and props at the studio.
The groom with the father and brother in law, and a friend.
The bride with the make up artist and the bridal's coordinator
At the altar.
After the church blessing ceremony.
Photo session at church. This went on for well over an hour. Too many cameras and guests, too little time (and patience; well, it's a once in a lifetime occasion after all.).
The married couple with two of the groom's highschool buddies (we're housemates).
The photo session tour at the park late that morning. I swear, everyone got unnecessarily tanned, especially at the forehead.
One of the many oriental themed structures at Taman Sahabat, Kuching.
These couples look cute. Cats and all.
Ok, make enough benches like this and one idiot is bound to get weird ideas. Foolish enough to post it here even. And you know what, I think this marriage is sealed solid, with a kiss!.
.
Wedding reception pictures and story to follow soon.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Grounded
Less than three weeks ago, I had to make an urgent hand delivery for a tender submission to Miri. It was rather unexpected since we planned to send the package via courier. However, since we didn’t receive the relevant information in time (2 days before deadline), the only option was for me to hand carry it there. The submission time was Thursday, before 3pm. So I bought tickets to board the low fare airline, AirAsia, to Miri, departing at 7.20am. Arriving at 9.20 that Thursday morning should give me enough time to deliver the package and meet our clients the rest of the day.
The normal air fare would be around RM1000 by Malaysia Airlines but my return flight with AirAsia cost only RM500++. I figured I could help save company’s money this way. Plus, an uncertain tender submission should not cost so much.
I arrived at the Low Cost Carrier Terminal as scheduled. The cabin was only half full so I managed to get a private seat by the window at the right wing portion. I tried to catch a nap as the aircrafts around mine make their way to the runway. The high volume of morning air traffic dragged the flight’s take off time to 8am.
The take off wasn’t quite as smooth but we were fast ascending in mid air nonetheless. There were several notable irregular sounds coming from the engine and wing segment. One was a rather loud mechanical gear sound and the other sounded like someone blowing into a microphone at a constant 30 seconds interval; except it wasn’t coming from the speaker above. It was transmitted through the body of the plane and it seemed to originate from the wing segment. That went on throughout the ascend.
I was so sleepy and dying to start my hibernating process that I didn’t give the sounds much thought.
[intercom *ding…]
“…please fasten your seatbelt, put your seat upright and stow you table to its original position.”
The announcement woke me up, ‘Oh great, bad weather. Just what I need’ I thought.
Heck, I’ve been through a few notoriously rough plane rides to hate this situation. 8.15am was the time on my watch and I went ‘yup, we’re not in the right altitude to dodge these nasty clouds’
Another five minutes passed before I heard the pilot say ‘Cabin Crew, please be seated for the landing’
What the ….. we’re landing? Now? How long have I been asleep? It’s only twenty minutes after take off. We can’t be landing now? We must still be above KL!!!
I looked out the window and saw a familiar sight; the runway I saw 25 minutes ago. Hey, there’s LCCT, AGAIN!
[Tires screeching, jet engine buzzing violently] “Welcome to LCC Terminal, Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign is switched off. Please make sure all electronic devices; especially your cell phones are switched off until you are in the terminal building. Please bring all your hand luggage with you when leaving the aircraft and wait in the departure hall for further notice” came the announcement.
‘Ok, we’re really back where we started 30 minutes ago. What the hell happened. Why is everybody so calm and not curious at all? Clearly I’m the only one missing the vital info’ I thought.
As I approached the exit door I asked the flight attendant “Uhm, excuse me. I missed the announcement earlier, but what happened?”
“Hydraulics problem” she said calmly, conveniently smiled and turned the other way.
“Oh, ok” I replied. The answer was simple and precise enough for my tired and sleepy brain so I left it at that.
Walking down the stairs slowly got me out of daze. I looked back toward the plane as everybody was making their way to the departure hall.
‘How bizarre is this?’ I asked myself.
I gazed up at the crimson morning sky and these words rang in my ears ‘there and back again’
As soon as everyone was in the terminal building, the engineers opened up the plane’s belly and started fixing God-knows-what. Here’s a thought: What if they caused another problem while trying to fix the faulty hydraulics? Don’t they have spare planes for situations like this? It’s not exactly a bicycle which can be used right after it’s fixed, or is this AirAsia’s idea of a bicycle?
Of all the planes parked here that morning, all took off without a glitch but mine.
Chronologically,
9.30am : They announced that they were still unable to determine the flight departure time. After waiting for an hour, that was the best they can tell us.
9.31am: We were made to wait indefinitely.
10.30am : They finally announced that departure was scheduled at 11.45am. It was a temporary relief since that would enable me to deliver the package less than 15 minutes before closing time, 3pm, tentatively of course. Provided there are no more unknown glitches surfacing.
10:45am: They distributed 500ml of mineral water, small packs of Swiss roll cake and a bun with traces of sardine paste in the middle; rationed like butter during World War II.
11.30am: We boarded the plane.
11.50am: Take off.
Everything went as per ammended schedule, after more than four hours' delay, with an uncertain flight's fate. Praying mode: 'ON'
Soon after we were at cruising altitude, the flight attendants were out with snacks to be purchased. They’re basically instant noodles, sandwiches and packet drinks sold three times the normal price. Things do get increasingly pricy with altitude. They should really teach that in school.
I was tempted to say “No thanks. I’m not buying another crap from AirAsia, not today”.
I kept quiet instead.
NOW EVERYONE CAN FLY KITE
The normal air fare would be around RM1000 by Malaysia Airlines but my return flight with AirAsia cost only RM500++. I figured I could help save company’s money this way. Plus, an uncertain tender submission should not cost so much.
I arrived at the Low Cost Carrier Terminal as scheduled. The cabin was only half full so I managed to get a private seat by the window at the right wing portion. I tried to catch a nap as the aircrafts around mine make their way to the runway. The high volume of morning air traffic dragged the flight’s take off time to 8am.
The take off wasn’t quite as smooth but we were fast ascending in mid air nonetheless. There were several notable irregular sounds coming from the engine and wing segment. One was a rather loud mechanical gear sound and the other sounded like someone blowing into a microphone at a constant 30 seconds interval; except it wasn’t coming from the speaker above. It was transmitted through the body of the plane and it seemed to originate from the wing segment. That went on throughout the ascend.
I was so sleepy and dying to start my hibernating process that I didn’t give the sounds much thought.
[intercom *ding…]
“…please fasten your seatbelt, put your seat upright and stow you table to its original position.”
The announcement woke me up, ‘Oh great, bad weather. Just what I need’ I thought.
Heck, I’ve been through a few notoriously rough plane rides to hate this situation. 8.15am was the time on my watch and I went ‘yup, we’re not in the right altitude to dodge these nasty clouds’
Another five minutes passed before I heard the pilot say ‘Cabin Crew, please be seated for the landing’
What the ….. we’re landing? Now? How long have I been asleep? It’s only twenty minutes after take off. We can’t be landing now? We must still be above KL!!!
I looked out the window and saw a familiar sight; the runway I saw 25 minutes ago. Hey, there’s LCCT, AGAIN!
[Tires screeching, jet engine buzzing violently] “Welcome to LCC Terminal, Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign is switched off. Please make sure all electronic devices; especially your cell phones are switched off until you are in the terminal building. Please bring all your hand luggage with you when leaving the aircraft and wait in the departure hall for further notice” came the announcement.
‘Ok, we’re really back where we started 30 minutes ago. What the hell happened. Why is everybody so calm and not curious at all? Clearly I’m the only one missing the vital info’ I thought.
As I approached the exit door I asked the flight attendant “Uhm, excuse me. I missed the announcement earlier, but what happened?”
“Hydraulics problem” she said calmly, conveniently smiled and turned the other way.
“Oh, ok” I replied. The answer was simple and precise enough for my tired and sleepy brain so I left it at that.
Walking down the stairs slowly got me out of daze. I looked back toward the plane as everybody was making their way to the departure hall.
‘How bizarre is this?’ I asked myself.
I gazed up at the crimson morning sky and these words rang in my ears ‘there and back again’
As soon as everyone was in the terminal building, the engineers opened up the plane’s belly and started fixing God-knows-what. Here’s a thought: What if they caused another problem while trying to fix the faulty hydraulics? Don’t they have spare planes for situations like this? It’s not exactly a bicycle which can be used right after it’s fixed, or is this AirAsia’s idea of a bicycle?
Of all the planes parked here that morning, all took off without a glitch but mine.Chronologically,
9.30am : They announced that they were still unable to determine the flight departure time. After waiting for an hour, that was the best they can tell us.
9.31am: We were made to wait indefinitely.
10.30am : They finally announced that departure was scheduled at 11.45am. It was a temporary relief since that would enable me to deliver the package less than 15 minutes before closing time, 3pm, tentatively of course. Provided there are no more unknown glitches surfacing.
10:45am: They distributed 500ml of mineral water, small packs of Swiss roll cake and a bun with traces of sardine paste in the middle; rationed like butter during World War II.
11.30am: We boarded the plane.
11.50am: Take off.
Everything went as per ammended schedule, after more than four hours' delay, with an uncertain flight's fate. Praying mode: 'ON'
Soon after we were at cruising altitude, the flight attendants were out with snacks to be purchased. They’re basically instant noodles, sandwiches and packet drinks sold three times the normal price. Things do get increasingly pricy with altitude. They should really teach that in school.
I was tempted to say “No thanks. I’m not buying another crap from AirAsia, not today”.
I kept quiet instead.
NOW EVERYONE CAN FLY KITE
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