Hits and Misses

Time to Pack

2010-05-18T14:50:00.007+08:00

Bali's around the damn corner. Bloody good timing!

I miss traveling like an old flame. Bittersweet memories of scrambling out from transfers in my trustee haversack and rushing through airports with the passport/boarding pass in one hand - God knows what happened to my RM400++ Deuter getup, rest in peace. The excitement's all in the waiting around whilst feeling smug that you can afford to pay airline bastards big money to get around (in style). In college, there was a phase where some friends and I had the pastime of driving up the departure terminal 20 minutes away from campus when we didn't have anything to do. We'd look at the L.E.D announcement boards with its various destinations in yearning and wolf down Double Mushroom Swiss that's twice the price at other Burger King branches. Tsk, peghak betul.

I did get my fair share of jet setting, thanks to some hard earned savings when I landed my first job and at times when my seasoned traveler parents were in the mood of giving. As far as I remember I was pulling my hair and wailing to wanna go somewhere instead of craving for slipper sandwich or pomelos from Ipoh when I was pregnant.

I suppose that's why Baby I.M drooled incessantly somewhere in his fourth month,ha.

Happiest when vacationing! ~can't wait~

Lalalala

2010-05-14T17:17:00.004+08:00

Baby I.M. got a bout of fever growing his first tooth (it's adorable!) and got us to ban Damansara Specialist Hospital in future chapters of our lives for the cows they employ. The doctor, who by the way looked like an unpolished, toilet-slippered version of Padaiyappa told us to go home and sponge my son already, dismissively chided that burning at 40C is pretty much "normal".

We should've knicked his ageing flip-flops and shoved 'em up somewhere nice and tight. And by the way we should have that insurance policy looked into. For dousing the kid with cold water and packing up some measly medication we could have just bought at a pharmacy for half the price, the bill came up to something close to a weekend in Bangkok for two.

FML.

When things got slightly better our paranoia drove us to the nearest clinic for the H1N1 injection, which I was told would be the best remedy against flu and many types of viral fever - something I would not want to deal with on our Bali vacation end of this month.Nauzubillah!! It's funny that we were all smug that each of us (including baby) got the jab for just RM95 a pop when my little sister told me that we could have got it free at any government clinic.

FMLx2.

Even worse, the side effects of the jab got me sick on Mother's Day, and the ntibiotics gave me a week's worth of diorrhea.

Ultimate FMLx1000.

Work as usual is shit, I don't know why I can't get my act together. Perhaps I'm getting older. But I got that promotion woohsa! More shit awaits.

I haven't gained weight, but my waist size has expanded.It looks like I have two pairs of boobies.

Thank God for the new iPhone :)

Keeping Count

2010-03-12T17:09:00.004+08:00

My name is Gwendolyn Mat Piah and I am a Credit Card Addict.

Well, was a credit card addict.

There was a time in my life when I was super money savvy to the point where I taught friends how to save and obtain property.

'the hell happened to that wiz?

Perhaps the pressure of enjoying the last days of youth with fab clothes, holidays and fine dining got the better part of me. Even deodorant shopping at Guardian could lead to major damage!

Now I shiver at the thought of getting a credit score from Bank Negara where in fact, I should be high-flying in my 30s with stability and sound finances. The frenzy of irresponsible purchases in the last five years really left a big dent in the purse and in the mind. It really got to me after En Husband questioned, "Where does your money go?" when I complain about being broke.

Really, where does it go?

I am using this year as an opportunity to redeem myself. Suze Ormon drilled the "Are you crazy?You can't afford that!" echo into my conscience and so far in the last six months been very disciplined with my spending. There was a warm fuzzy feeling in me after I got in touch with my lending banks and moved some figures around, enough to inject some health into the budget planning, whatmore when the objective is to provide for baby I.M.

Insya-Allah, I think by the end of the year I should at least clear RM10k off bad debts.

10.Friggin.K!!

Well, the business helped a little. Can't help but be burdened by work and leave that behind for a little bit until I get my crap together. Most importantly, the bonus! Alhamdulillah.

chugachugachugachugachoochoo~

Dark Cloud

2010-01-27T16:15:00.004+08:00

I'm a little agitated today.

Well, I've actually been agitated for quite a few months.

I'm not sure if I have postpartum depression. I don't know. I may have some symptoms.

Or I'm probably just tired?

Am I being a good mother? A good wife? A good daughter? A good employee?

Work has been work. New boss reported, old boss promoted. I've been moved around quite alot. Frankly quite fed up with the many hey do this, hey do thats and why don't yous simply because they don't know what to do with me after my long absence. I've been here longer than anyone else in the department and that is rarely being considered at appraisals or noteworthy task distributions.

Sigh.

I feel worthless. Kids in my class don't laugh at my jokes. I don't have the Gwendolyn touch that turns every lecture into Disneyworld anymore. It doesn't help that I keep forgetting things and screwing up appointments - something I almost never do at the office.

I used to be Chegu Superstar. Now I'm Chegu Superlame.

I think I've overheard people are talking about how absentminded I can be. Some even hate me?

(perhaps it's my paranoia)

Well, at least my programme leader's kind enough to perk me up with a new subject to teach. And that offshore module would look great on my resume.

Yay.

And oh.Am going to Bali with En Husband and Baby I.M in May to destress. I need it for my sanity.

Four months to go.

Fast Forward - 4 Months Later

2010-01-12T13:04:00.006+08:00

Sorry blog, long hiatus. Being a mom apparently is a 24-hour job.

(You think??)

Many ups and downs. At six weeks, Baby IM was hospitalized due to a lung infection.We were delighted by getting our own room at PPUM's pediatric ward (which is very rare), all the while not knowing that IM was actually quarantined as a suspected H1N1 case. Cheh.

Praise Allah for he is now well and eating his own toes. My mother is teasing me about it, saying that its a sign that he may get a sibling soon ~arkh~.

I don't think my dark circles can't handle another screaming baby at 3am in the morning.

Nevertheless, breastfeeding does wonders.I feel pretty guilty for starting him on formula when my supply dwindled after going back to work (due to a condition known as acute babysittingcollegekidsbytryingnottostranglethem migraine), where he clearly was fine without. Baby IM is alert and intelligent (yes I am biased:)), growing prosperously just on mummy's milk, judging from his round belly and fetish for colourful and flashing tv montages.

Lessons learnt through the quarter:

1) Read baby books because medical and childcare experts know best. Don't be pressured by advice from elders of doing this and that the old school way when you know better for your own kid.

2) Lactating is the perfect excuse for long lunch breaks, skipping outstation assignments and leaving early from work.

3) Milk production is all in the mind. The more you worry, the less it gets. As long as you are drinking enough water and thinking positively the protein rush will come.

4) Don't compare your child to others, he or she grows at his own pace. Talk to your baby and he or she will mature quicker.

5) Cloth diapers saves dosh, minimizes nappy rash.

The last few days I've been angry at work..but today I received wonderful news. That's another story..

New Moon

2009-09-18T18:15:00.003+08:00

Throughout my time spent at the PPUM labour room wishing I had my own delivery over and done with after *listening* to at least 27 of my next door neighbours and their newborns screaming for breath, I wanted to kill the practitioners that told me to get the friggin IOL. I could have just left my kid overdue a day or two and let nature just do its thang, unless of course if it took more than a week.

My BP was fine during that period of mindless walking around for my waterbag to break, plus my glucose had never been better. It was actually the four inductions (you heard right; F-O-U-R), 52 hours of waiting and crying over the last 16 where the pain was as excruciating as all menstrual cramps I've ever had in my lifetime put together despite the double shot epidurals that made me snap. In the end the docs got together and decided to bring our son into the world on 28th August 2009 via C-sect at 2.40pm (doh, already).

The moment I saw him for the first time, it made me forget the first two paragraphs I just typed.

~our little crown jewel, I.M.~

More updates once I find the time in between his feeding times :)

Ready for Take Off

2009-08-23T14:00:00.006+08:00

Whaddya know? We have been scheduled for an IOL (according to my sister The Pharmacist, it really means Induction Of Labour) this Wednesday 26th - my supposed due date. Arkhh. Two days to go.

Meanwhile, the swelling on my two elephant-like feet has gone away and the whole lotta cold, coconut drinks in conjunction of Ramadhan's irresistable food fiestas in has brought on quite the pelvic pain. Which is good, because I read up that the alkaline juice is a form of birth inducer.

Looks like it's near.

Our resistance is futile - En Husband and I have been playing with the safari gym The Twins setup on the baby cot. So damned cute *excitement*. The 5th Parenthood Expo also interested us in some funky things besides the adorable "Cat In Hat" and cow-printed Happy Heiny's cloth diapers at Eldests Sister's booth, for example: babywearing. Immediately ordered a pouch sling to try out my Amazonian baby-balancing skills..and at the same time feeling a little guilty that we've already bought ourselves a stroller too.

*chants* will juggle both..will juggle both...will juggle both...

I think besides Minyak Telon and a baby brush, we pretty much have all we need to welcome Junior to the world.

All we need to do now is wait for Junior to come *kucing nak beranak pose*.

Safe and healthy.

Not So Long Now

2009-08-12T10:58:00.002+08:00

I love a man with a sense of humor and that's what made my husband so sexy I had to marry him.

After several calamities at Mt.Doom@PPUM, our latest appointment queue ticket brought us to Dr. Y; a biol male physician (our first!) who either had too much coffee or binges on amphetamines to survive the crunch at work. His funny northern twang and hearty jokes reassured that experts like him would most likely take good care of us when the D-Day comes.

Baby is in good, good condition. All set and ready to go..yo joe! (note to self: must catch Channing Tatum in a catsuit @ cinema before baby arrival).

The only thing I didn't like was my pap smear results (yes they can ravage pregnant women that way), showing traces of GBS on me and that I had get another lower vaginal swab to determine whether I would need antibiotics for a vaginal birth. If without would cause breathing complications to newborn but Dr.Y told us the antibiotics 99.9% protects and there is a huge chance the infant will survive after delivery.

Well.

Let's hope there's no clowning around on Dr.Y's part for that.

On other things, two friends I know whose due dates are at least a week later than mine have safely delivered baby girls. Are females generally born brash and hurried? I know for a fact that I was born earlier than predicted. If that hypothesis was true, it would make sense of our uncontrollable shopping impulses :)).

From books I've read and advice I've gotten, it's perfectly alright for baby to ripen up until the 40th week as his brains would develop and mature better.

So stay put Sonny Jim until your time is right and we'll see you very very soon (in two weeks! Aaack!).

Yes, I'm still unfortunately at work cleaning up and handing over duties. As much as I'd like to already frolic around at home in the nude with grapes and draped over a Cleopatra chair The College's measly 60-day maternity leave doesn't agree with me. How nice it would be if we were Swedish, we get 6 months off! Anyway, I wouldn't want to waste what I have because I'd like to spend as much time as I can bonding with my future son during the confinement period.

Speaking of confining self, I'm going home earlier today and pack my stuff - not mommy and baby hospital kits but rather, to sleep over Mom's as poor En. Husband's got the fever since Monday. I think it had largely to do with the crazyass weekend of two weddings, a baby shower, a birthday party and not forgetting a whole day of antenatal class attended at Concorde Shah Alam the day before. The course was superb I would say, complete with a hotel lunch though I suspect hemophobic hubby got woozy the minute we were shown labour and episiotomy photos *lol*.

Practically chased me out for his quarantine but of course, baby's our No.1 priority. The poor guy.. been working so hard lately and now that he finally got a few days off from his shoot he's spending it lying around sick!

Get better, Papa - you need to pronto if you wanna cradle your son soon. XOXO.

I Don't Like Surprises

2009-08-04T11:08:00.011+08:00

When I chose to deliver my future son at a government hospital, I knew that it's going to come with lots of baggage. En Husband was fine with the more practical yet costly private practice we've been referring to in my first and second trimester of pregnancy but I was more worried about the Gs that may come after the birth of our child.

We've put away amounts of money in our Baby Fund but I was convinced that every sen we've saved won't be enough. What if I was forced into a C-section? What if the baby suffers from complications? What if jaundice comes about? What if we need to organize cukur jambul ceremony that equals to purchasing two goats from Sungai Buloh?

Scrooge me if you will, but I've heard lots of young parents each pay off medical bills with hands and a foot (now is the exact moment why I should slap my forehead and mull over why I quit The Company that covers maternity expenses five friggin' times throughout an employee's service at ANY private hospital). I just don't want our kid to be born into a stressed environment because of this. What's more important is how we would care for him when he comes.

Yes, yes, beggars can't be choosers *groan*. But can I please whine about my decision for a bit,pretty please?

The biggest chagrin about PPUM's antenatal clinic is that it's only open on weekdays. The lines are Saturday clubbing-long and you'd have to take a number at the break of dawn to ensure a lunchtime exit. And can you imagine, this already with attendants handling initial round-the-robin examinations like urine,blood tests etc. When you enter the consultation room it's really just you, the doctor, a nurse and a mic to amplify the sound of fetal heartbeats rather than fancy gynae machines you see on TV. Oh. You have to set separate appointments for ultrasound scans just because the sonography department is located on a different floor hence another half day leave needs to be applied from your already annoyed boss.

You will be seen by any medical officer available. Meaning, you will NOT be assigned to a specific doctor, hence whoever's going to guide you through the delivery will remain a mystery. The outcome of your visit is dependent on comments made on your file by the doctor from the previous appointment.

In my case, it's either the docs are taking their jobs waaaaay to seriously or they're just merely taking extra precautions. I was diagnosed and treated as mommy with gestational diabetes, which beats the donkey out of me because my sugar readings are well within range. The highest I've shot to so far is at a 7.3 (right after dinner at that too!) which would be pretty normal. But no, they would not let it go because I am considered obese and my grandma suffers from it. I was instructed to pick a day in every single week to observe my glucose level with the nearest pharmacist. Yeesh.

My hypertension condition prior to getting knocked up was also pointed out to likely affect the birthplan. Despite doin' so well the docs insisted to strictly observe the pressure.

On my last checkup, a Dr.X whom I had just met candidly told me that our baby is in a dangerously breeched position.This was her hypothesis of an ultrasound done two weeks prior to the meeting by another medical officer when I was still 34 weeks along. Did it not occur to her that the baby could have turned already by now at 36? To "confirm" her statement, she put the damned mic on my tummy and yawned , "yea, I should be right, your baby's head should be somewhere right about here..so it is confirmed a breech!" and tapped on my right abdomen to indicate where the head lies. That could be the baby's bum, for goodness' sakes!

She then rudely told (or more likely, commanded) me to prepare for a C-section, because:

Option A: Wait for the baby to turn, is pointless. There's only a 0.04% chance he will unless I'm ready for a foot first delivery.
Option B: Administer injections to make the baby turn. My hypertension and diabetes might kill me or the baby.

This all said with a smile on her face.

En Husband and I were traumatized by this. All that info were too much to digest. For some reason my eyes started to well. We asked if we could get another ultrasound from the hospital to confirm this, and the only available appointment was on 20 August. I would already be due by then, smartass!

Upset, we went back to our former private practice to get a recent scan and second opinion. Sighs of relief escaped our worried lips when Dr. Zarina showed clearly on the monitor - our baby boy already engaged in a head down position and ready to the world anytime soon (and I bet she's secretly smiling and muttering "I told you so" too).

Thank you Dr. Zarina for clarifying all the reasons why I should go back to PPUM and punch that inappropriate grin off from Dr. X's stupid face.

Ticks and Tocks

2009-07-17T22:39:00.005+08:00

A fellow mak buyung dropped by our home the other Sunday to see how I was doing. How sweet. To the point that I got ashamed that I never actually bothered that she was pregnant too.

Tsk, tsk. I need to be chested by with any of them CareBear rainbows. Pronto.

While our husbands exchanged Streetfighter and Manhunt softwares on their PSPs, we exchanged mommy stories. So very der Bedah. Some makcik-ish topics discussed was how oppositely we were carrying from each other. The couple was expecting a girl, or how their obgyn lamely joked - a "hamburger" and we are expecting a "smallfry". I was a little concerned seeing how she sways around with an enormous tummy on that small frame..reminded me of Jon & Kate Plus 8 (pre-eight). As for me, I only just look like I had swallowed a small chicken. To add to the postbaby fat concerns, I still get shocked gasps of, "you're pregnant?!!" despite almost coming to full term.

It gets super annoying you know? Can't they tell a baby bump from my DD klivaj?

Fellow Mak Buyung is due a week after me and looks like she's dragging bricks on her feet. She seemed exhausted and just wanting to get it over and done with. I on the other hand am still able to run errands with invisible wings on my back and chewing off students' heads as per usual. What En Husband and I enjoy most now is the growing frequency of Ralph Macchio kicks and Mexican waves on my belly.

I would say my hormonal outburts do get the best of me nowadays. I was fine the whole week knowing that there's a team outing to Umbai for ikan bakar today but I couldn't come along since I was the only one scheduled to conduct class thanks to some bozo program coordinator who I know hates my pretty guts. Today I almost burst into tears when the gang called asking for directions to Pernu. I was being uncooperative at that too, this jealous beast.

Grrrrrrr.

Coming back to my little foxymama forum just now, it just dawned on me when Fellow Mak Buyung reminded me to prepare an overnight hospital bag in En Husband's car from now onwards. Just in case.

I am Gwendolyn Mat Piah, now 34 weeks pregnant and ready to pop anytime soon.

Kena Reject

2009-06-16T15:17:00.005+08:00

A few weeks ago an Ex-Classmate left a message on my FB account urgently seeking my number. Goodness, I couldn't even remember who she was what more reveal my contact details to her privately.

Apparently networking got the best of her and finally her call got through. I was baffled and not to mention flattered (yea my bum's still afloat somewhere) to hear that Ex-Classmate actually wanted to cast me into some Maxis ad after she saw some of my profile piccas and forwarded it to her team...

..until she told me her clients loved me because I looked great as a plus model. Cheh. It's one of those "BIIIGGGGG BONANZA", "MAMMOTH DISCOUNTS" and Kopi Kapal Api type ads (please refer below)

Despite how irked I was with the stereotype I was still intrigued and wouldn't mind some extra cash with the baby coming and all.

Oh yeah, my baby.

I blurted out to Ex-Classmate that I'm with child now and due to deliver very soon. Her response paled in comparison to our first conversation. She sounded rather alarmed but she'd check if that's okay with her boss and told me by the way, they're actually looking for a pregnant talent too. Perhaps they could cast me for that instead.

Hey, what's wrong with being plus and pregnant?

Ex-classmate called me the next day to tell me that I didn't get the gig. I was either too pregnant to be a fat person, or too fat for the pregnant role.

Kijam, kijam.

Manic Mum, Serie A

2009-06-04T00:09:00.005+08:00

I cringe when students wish me a "Happy Holiday, Ms.!" because there is nothing of such wonderful rainbows in the teaching profession. School breaks are mandatorily spent buried in mountains of paperwork - among which for me now are the dreaded midterm exam gradings and course assessments lurking behind the desktop folder.

C'est la vie *chants job-loving mantra*.

The hustling added torque onto my moodswings. Besides brushing off insensitive invites to paintball, nightclubs, overseas vacations planned for September when I would be be in confinement and drug-fueled parties; I haven't bothered answering or returning calls as well as texts. Sorry loves. Have a trillion things going on right now. Principal wanting PhD. proposal and scholarship application stat; dealing with the friggin' academic convo (should I use my pregnant card now?); preparing for maternity handover; internship placement; business(es) that need attention...

bleurgh.

I don't know how I got myself signed up for these.

Some happy thoughts though, En. Husband and I sorted out birthing this August- PPUM would be just fine. Teensy weensy inconvenience would be applying leave to attend appointments but from the looks of the system they have, seems that I would be in good care. Heck, when Junior comes I don't think I'd be filing for ALs to go anywhere at all so who cares if we use it all up, eh? Let's see how it goes on the first official checkup this 30th. It breaks my heart to part ways with my current follow-up. Dr. Zarina may have even scoffed at one point when I suggested the idea to her earlier. We think we'll get the expert help for a fraction of the price and use the dosh to ready mini nursery for Junior..

which we have already splurged on at Parkson Baby World's half price reductions.

Who ever knew baby shopping would having such excitement? En. Husband and I were blushing and cooing at the two free teddy bears complimentary from our large purchase of supplies for Junior. And don't get me started on blogshopping now..we've spent a few hundreds investing on cloth diapers we don't have a clue on using but I guess eventually we've got to conserve the environment somehow. It pays to be treehuggers, people!

This weekend we are going to check on the stroller and carseat warehouse to bargain hunt some more. Would it be possible to get anything Graco or Combi for less then RM500? We hope so.

~Scan the last two paras. Gasp. I've turned into a blogger mommy~

Of Surprises

2009-05-27T13:56:00.003+08:00

My landlady Mrs. Tan makes heaps of money out of the house she bought next to her own by sardine-cramming students into the tiny 4r3b unit and rents the rest of us parking space within its 3 car-capacity garage. Some of my colleagues thinks she's a leech, but heck, RM 70 a month to walk 50 feet from your vehicle to The College entrance is pretty sweet compared to rabid MBPJ summons or ridiculous public parking rates.

She was awfully chatty and would always be full of smiles when you wish her a good morning as she waters her prized orchids next door.

And today, Mrs. Tan died mysteriously. She was barely 50 and strong as an ox. No one knew why she passed on. I was in class that morning when fellow parker (I guess that's what you call it) came in to tell me the family needed to remove my car for her wake.

Only yesterday she was worrying about how The College would expand, move away and take with it her loyal customers like me. And she managed to whisper about how she hates it that the student tenants keep on bringing different girls to party at home every single night.

Rest in peace, my morning dose of juicy neighbourhood gossip. She will be missed.

P/s: What should I do at a Buddhist funeral?

Weighing Options

2009-05-25T16:50:00.009+08:00

The kicks and flutters are getting much stronger these days. Sometimes I smile to myself wondering if Junior's going to grow up chopping boards and canning bad asses with his bare hands.

With the third trimester approaching, a dilemma grows with it. Where oh where shall I deliver my son to the world?

We've thought of the maternity clinic I've been having checkups at Kota Damansara. The obgyn I've seen is friendly and overall, having a baby there more affordable compared to other private hospitals that would cost an arm or a leg with similar facilities. The ultimate price buster with more expertise could be obtained from the neighbourhood and government-funded UH but I've heard so much horror stories about it, despite its scientific advances. The nightmares mainly have to do with horrible lazy nurses that make first time mothers cry.....together with their newborns.

If all else fails, jolly old' Dr Zarina Bebe of Pusrawi it shall be.I'm just going to give UH benefit of the doubt and check it out this Thursday..where I will (at last) use my annual leave!

--

Funny, coming back to The College can be both wonderful and demoralizing. Despite being told earlier that the organization wanted me back so badly, I've just learnt that :

#1 - I still had to be on probation (hence all leave days are frozen until otherwise)
#2 - I still had to go through the friggin' teaching survey
#3 - All previous records and achievements (which were stellar) are wiped on a clean slate

It's because I'm black, ainnit?

But not all is lost - I've quickly regained my permanent status and I seem to be in a good place with New Lady Boss. In my conversation this morning with her in regards to signing off the confirmation stuff, she offered me the spot for the Murdoch learning exchange programme to start off my doctorate.

6 months in Perth for PhD. in Mass Communication foundation classes and the opportunity to also teach a semester in Murdoch Uni. Only one person in each department gets the chance and best part is - I could bring family with me once Junior is born!

Sounds great right? Not really.

There's always a catch to miracle-sounding news like this. I just heaved a big sigh, looked into her eyes and said, "How many people have you asked before me?."

She squirmed for a bit, and sheepishly said, "Three."

Apparently our star staff and most prominent nominee M had her Sudanese visa declined. Meanwhile, two other candidates have already been conferred with doctorates. As per usual, I would be the last choice, with baby on the way and all.

(one more time) It's because I'm black, ainnit?

Then again, to look at it positively - if that IS the case..why not? God works in supermysterious ways. Let's just hope that this time, The College follows through with this.

~best~

Weird

2009-05-21T11:33:00.008+08:00

Read up on the `What to Expect' book thingamajigie. It says what goes on in a pregnant woman's sleep gets way vivid starting from late second semester. Just turned 24 weeks/ 6 months yesterday.

I had a string of weird dreams last night, mostly intertwined with some random episodes from that useless Intan sinetron that I religiously followed (for a while) in my attempt to hangout more with my MIL who's a fan. Other than a gruesome murder mystery, a love triangle involving Adam Lambert (??), En Hubbster and me getting trapped in a vampire lair (well yeah, that's not from Intan I exaggerated - probably from too much Idol 8 and Tru Blood *nyeh* )..

..I dreamt I was breastfeeding my son. Think that rooted from my concern earlier in that day that my boobies were hurting bad.

Oh, and he was a cutesie I tell you. Looking exactly like what I've put up on my notebook's wallpaper.

Freaky. But adorable.

Can't wait for September. I wonder if my son will look like that.

::::::)

Happy Teacher's Day

2009-05-15T16:20:00.005+08:00

Now that Stepford Schoolmarm has left, I was passed on the torch of "Mass Comm Dino" - a moniker given to anyone in the department that lasts longer than 24 months. Pathetic. Attrition rate is so high that we almost never get pass our new colleagues' birthday parties.

Hey, it isn't all that bad. The kids aren't that difficult once you know how to keep your reign on things, and the syllabus ain't rocket science. I especially love the quaint environment we have that's cosy. Part of the reasons why I decided to quit an offer I got and came back, after two months!

Secrets to last The College? A lot of patience and a taste of the humble pie. No, we don't get personal parking space and hell would freeze over if ever we were bequeathed "rooms". What we gain in this organization other than elevated blood pressure are advanced pastoral and interpersonal skills from handling rebel teenagers with deteriorating intellect on a daily basis.

I noticed with the new intake of teaching staff at the office, there is a new generation of educators that are more sensitive and concerned...

about themselves.

Perhaps the strategy was lost where HR thought industry practitioners work best with the specialized subjects that they will teach. I suppose coming from the glitz and glam of TV and radio brought on a disease I call Diva-ness that's hard to shake despite the academia enviro.

Coming in late and going back early, skiving whenever they feel like it, complaining about the facilities and students' attitudes, comparing The College to the previous employer...etc.

~sigh~

if everything was so great over there, why did they ever leave?

I don't think it's the kids who need a pep talk about discipline *preps bulu ayam*.

Anyway, just came back from a lovely Nippon buffet (sadly no sushi for me!) in conjunction of the joyous occasion. The College belanja. Double yums.

Selamat Hari Guru to those who still believe in the profession ;)

Tiada Maaf Bagimu

2009-05-13T15:58:00.007+08:00

INI ENTRY BERISI HORMON-HORMON BENGANG SEORANG WANITA HAMIL.

~

This jungle of stilletoes require survival of the fittest.

A rare species I know marks territories. She charmed her way into our pack. Built relationships with trusting members. She displayed her prowess - then leaving good impressions after. But her primal instincts drove her astray as she couldn't find anything to benefit from our alliance.

It's for the best, she said. Or at least that's what I thought she would want to say when she avoided our calls, text messages or any social events that concerned our input.

When things don't work out at that blue yonder of hers, the reject reverts to square one. Us.

And the best part is that : she expects her return to be welcomed. It was not the like Edmond Dantes getting shunned from the society into a stinking black hole off the coast of France. Matters to be considered: she laughed, enjoyed life and scoffed at memories of ever being with us to others [who are better or (god forbid) cooler than you].

What do you do? Oh, what do you do?

While we were trying to make sense out of things, tables have turned. To win us back, she starts listing down miserable things she can find about the previous company she keeps - the cooler, better ones.

It's sad.

I always know a good friend. Good friends don't have fake smiles nor hidden agendas. They don't demean people behind their backs just to be accepted (or re-accepted in this case).

Sigh.

We are going to count to three and you are going to disappear.

*closes eyes real tight*

Halfway Through

2009-05-11T10:13:00.016+08:00

It's week 23 already. Junior ~ can we call the baby that since we haven't decided on a name yet?~ has been dancing about delightfully and giving away future sleep patterns. Seems like quite a morning person compared to lazybums Mummy & Poppa Bear. Habislah weolz, hehe.

We had some 3D snapshots taken last month to observe fetal developments, especially of spine and organs in detail. There was also our first look at Junior's face, unfortunately it was half covered with my trademark hand-on-face sleeping pose most of the time but the sonographer managed to capture a hilarious moment of Junior holding a fist over mouth of what looks like a singing stance, and good God, accompanied by possibly a smile? Star in the making, aye. Sadly, could take ages before I could get the pics posted online since the office scanner refuses to work with me, nevertheless : soon, very soon.

Alhamdulillah, everything seems A-OK. Good heartbeat, normal anatomy ratio.10 fingers,10 toes. And, as I had suspected earlier in the pregnancy - it's a boy! *moonwalks in elation*

That just goes to prove that old wives' tales aren't always reliable. The first pregnancy phallacy that got me irritated was when some makciks scolded me silly for drinking water from the fridge. "Oh, it will make the baby's head huge! You don't want a C-section do you?". Sigh. Mana blajar nih? Scientifically, cold water turns to body temperature when absorbed. Even the gestation formula I've been taking is served cold. Here, have a look at the cranial measurements of our child. It's friggin normal and (in fact) his weight slightly lighter than average.

Other assumptions I've been tempted to retort at are guessing games for the baby's gender. My boss is tactlessly and repeatedly commenting on my nose (what's new) which is now worryingly acne-laden. According to her Chinese beliefs the extra wide nostrils and my refusal to look good on a daily basis is actually giving way to the feminine beauty of my child. Someone else commented that my inclination to eat more fish than red meat in the initial stages of my pregnancy would make my kid a girl. Wot rubbish. That's already predetermined in the chromosomes and on the day of conception!

My rather small belly is not helping with the smart-ass comments either. 9 out of 10 numbnuts are betting their bottom dollar that kid's going to be female. For a while there I was pretty much defeated and actually had resigned to the idea of skirts and ponytails- until the doc finally confirmed that Junior, is indeed masculine and kicking.

I initially wanted to actually keep it as a surprise, but hell, everyone needs to write this down somewhere somehow.

IT'S A BOY!!!

Second Trimester

2009-03-31T16:43:00.004+08:00

Time went slowmo on the remote - it feels like a century since my last scan. I just can't wait to see how The Little One has grown from this very first snapshot.

This was taken at 14 weeks..now we are closing in 18. Our next checkup is on the 6th, seems like another torturous wait doesn't it? Judging from recent events, I've branched out from temporary insanity into full-time Raving Lunatic. I am surprised myself at the number of snappy retorts I have compared to the usually zen-like aura I'm known for. My newfound sarcasm actually hurts people, and in the wise ways of universe paybacks; my neck hurts badly in return.

I think haven't really taken good care of myself. I keep forgetting to eat my folic acid and running out of cash to get Enfamama formula (seriously, RM50 a pop??).I stopped binging on anything I see, sometimes I don't eat anything at all. I've developed a disliking for rice *gasp* and I've not worn make-up to work for a month already now. My tum's grown bigger that I can't wear pants that don't come with elastics. From the side, The Little One is growing right below my breasts and sometimes giving me heartburn when I cough or sneeze.

Okay, maybe it's not a boy after all? Is it a girl coming along?

Perhaps that would explain my obsession with girl names of late which lead to me drawing up a `Favourites' list. I just hope I can affirm soon because my bum's got an itch to go out and buy baby stuff in sex-denotative colours. Mum said it's too early, but I can't help it.

Well, I could keep it unisex ..in yellow?

Knocked Up

2009-02-06T15:09:00.011+08:00

Finally (tries to conceal a grin).

I was hesitant to broadcast so early, didn't want to jinx it. It's just weird when you think that you've kept it low-profile enough, people you haven't seen since The Big Bang approach you at weddings and attempt to pat your midriff.

Which goes to prove that any news travel at light speed in this era of online social networks.

En Husband and I are elated and relieved. So the doctor was wrong about me. I wish I knew where he lived so I could egg his car for the exorbitant (so-called) specialist fees and insinuating that I was a human hairball with a penis *frowns*.

Now I am at nine weeks and expected to give birth early September. It would be excellent if I can hold it until 09.09.09, which is five days away from the original due date. A Virgo. Dang, seems like I'd be constantly competing for the limelight with the kid. Heh.

On other things, I am quite concerned with my hormonal changes; or lack of it. Unlike other expectant moms I haven't thrown up a shingle nor have I suffered from the slightest tinge of morning sickness. Some symptoms I've had are just the urge to pee every five minutes and sleeping as early as 9pm, but heck, don't I always? I may be living up to "eating for two" though and have alarmingly packed on 5 kilos since conceiving. Note to self : prenatal yoga. You know, it is not in any way (at least in my opinion) haram. JAKIM should look into revising the fatwa, honestly. Research, people! Research! Yoga, as we know it - is a physical and spiritual balance of enhancing human well-being. The controversial "Sun Salutation" they claimed "blasphemous" actually possess a routine similar to stretching in conventional exercise genres like the aerobics, only done in a more systematic and rigorous manner. In my random yoga experiences, I have not yet needed to hum mantras or dance around bonfires.

I digress.

Back to baking buns in the oven. At most, pregnancy so far have sparked a wee bit of dementia which I suspect is probably from trying to kick my chain-smoking habit. I've been misplacing things so often that I have to keep inventory of everything in my giant handbag on a notebook. I've been buying crates of breath fresheners that I forget to consume in paranoia of halitosis and a few days ago I almost reversed into the neighbour's daughter.

To add to those, I've just settled into a new workplace and changed my mind about it on the first day itself. As much as I tried to deny it, I wasn't detached from The College enough. An amazing coincidence that my sub that fled for some gig at Mediaprima or something like that. The vacancy got The College to call me back. They were probably desperate or....desperate. Of course, my earlier resignation have caused some minor ramifications, seniority and increment included. At this point of time, all I care about is being near home and familiar things that I love.

So much for quoting "adaptive" as my strength on that job interview few months back.

I'm going to raise this baby as a DJ kid, a DJ kid.

Oohh. Can't wait for my next checkup in March for a good clear peek of our child. The first time around I thought I was Rachel Green ditzy that I can't make out anything accept for a bunch of dots - a stellar constellation I can never fathom. Will update!

En Husband doesn't mind if it's a girl or a boy but I am somehow 99.9% sure in my head that it will be a boy.

And Then The New Year Is Coming..

2008-12-20T22:58:00.003+08:00

.....

Frazzled. Lately I have been known to stare into wide open space more often than I blink, and I've gotten more honks on the road compared to those throughout my 10 years of driving.

I lost about 10 kilos, gained almost all of it back in just one week. Shed some again after, piled it back on. In November alone I had my menses three fookin' times. The gynae (who also added some surprising info that I haven't been conceiving because of my high testosterone levels while both my ovaries are covered with lumps of lardy fat hence therefore it has become an unpenetrable fortress harrumph) told me I may be a little stressed.

A little?

I look alive, but no one is home. I have been mostly on autopilot waiting for things to workout for themselves. I've taken up more responsibilities than I can handle and I've lost my signature knack for superefficient time management. It's sad that busy little organizing bee in me is no longer - and people I crave respect from feel that I am totally incompetent . I am ashamed when all I want to be is acknowledged for my contributions.

Sometimes I feel that I've lost hope, but I have many things to be thankful for. So I keep on a -chuggin'. Choo-choo.

Perhaps I just need to make life more eventful.

I've been trying to disguise my panda eyes with makeup nowadays, and I noticed that just a little glamming up makes all the difference. A bitch at the office who has never bothered to give me a second glance now comes to my cube complimenting me on my rosy cheeks and clear complexion (terima kasih Oil of Olay). Nevertheless I told her in a nice way to fook off when she hinted to borrow my Stila gear.

Watched `Twilight' the other day. Hot movie. Hot Robert Pattinson. To think of it, I haven't been to the cinema in three months. Note to self to go more often. Burn that flame of love with En Husband - we were movie buffs.

The clothing e-shop we have up is doing marvelous. We had our first outdoor sale/event!! I had a blast despite the brutal rain throughout and considering Raya Haji was the day after.The last sunshiny 3hrs we had at our booth raked in a lot. Which goes to prove that..plus people love us!!

I have been super sloppy on the job, counting my last days at The College. Yes, I will be reporting for the 5th job in 5 years very soon despite being named Ms Popular Lecturer twice in a row with superb teaching survey to boot. I sympathize with the people who voted for me and my short, unpredictable fuse. I wonder; is it my hypertension acting up again or are today's youth general dumber than my generation of earnest, hardworking cellphone-less teenagers? At some points in the classes I conduct I wished I had an Uzi for an answer when students ask me "Miss, what's a print ad? " at the end of each Mass Comm diploma semester. Certainly it does not get any better when you are also in charge training placements for a bunch of bratty 20-year olds who have never worked a day in their life and expect to be renumerated equally as permanent staff. Ah, I feel a surge of migraine creep up just thinking about them.

I am glad that I have tendered my resignation for those only two reasons. Maybe The College didn't pay much and had unspeakably stupid benefits but I lovedddddd it for what it is - good and honest education. I know many of my kind that scoff at the thought of working with a Chinese company like mine, but I learnt up fast and I grew strong. I am going to terribly miss it.

Have accepted a competitor's teaching position, to start 5th January. About 200 billion people have asked me whether I was sure about sacrificing the leisurely 5-minute drive to work each morning for a miserable 24km stretch towards Kajang. Many also have expressed their concern about whether I've given a lot of thought about accepting the offer. But you know what? I never mull over important things like this. I just do whatever I feel like doing, I realized. I like taking risks enhance my pool of skills (er I think), therefore more marketable.

I have been a copywriter, a PR exec cum corporate rat, a customer relations officer and teacher. That last bit, I think would last much longer. Even if being a teacher is 70% pain than pleasure.

First thing's first. Will be off to Bandung to relax (or perhaps tear down some factory outlets) in a few days and celebrate NYE before reporting to new job.

Wish me luck with the credit cards.

Of Money, Babies, Birthdays and a Funeral

2008-10-28T03:07:00.007+08:00

There are reasons why I was born under The Scales. I am destined to lead a life of fabulousity if there is such an adjective, but before that I will have to look into a banishing sexy demon I call procrastination all Librans posses.

Sorry blog, I have not sat down with you for almost four months now. So let me just bring things up to speed.

I am juggling two jobs other than that of a filial wife and daughter *cough*. Ironically, money matters are not so hunky dory at the mo'. By the 27th of every month I'd probably have at most, RM10 in my pathetic and ravaged purse. Some people say I have too much on my plate but despite the ocassional whinings of having to stomach them all, I am loving the thrill of multitasking and putting puzzle pieces into place. Nerdy, non?

In case you are wondering, I teach in the day, teach in the evenings and teach people how to shop cheap in my free time. As much as I hate to admit that my addiction is (donating money to) online boutiques, yours truly have gone to next level.

My name is Gwendolyn Mat Piah, and I sell fashion online.

The Partner and I shared the same sentiment that Malaysia isn't making enough clothes for fat people. Our pledge as existingly gorgeous plus foxes is to encourage even bigger babes to dress chic and avoid looking like an old tit at a tender young age. Hence biz was born and is receiving great response from many, much to our surprise. Let me credit this early achievement to The Partner's business savvy. If it were up to me to manage this with my set of bumbling priorities, I'd put us on the streets selling cleavages in no time. Happy,happy to be part of something huge (someday, we hope..and pun intended). And babe, sorry that I've been such an administration ditz and hope to be around more often to help you manage it :D.

ii.

Let me just get my macho front down and admit that I want a kid of our own now. Having everyone pat the tums when there's nothing there is really getting on my nerves. Sometimes, I do feel that urge to paint we're working on it, dammit! on my forehead. And sometimes, I wonder if it is the curse of pre-marital family planning.

iii.

Survived a 28th birthday last week. I don't have a list to check off like I used to prepare in those anal PA days back at The Company when the day annually comes, only that there's top priority to settle every last cent of the credit card(s) before turning the big three-oh. AirAsia sales are not helping.

I'm thinking of inventing a device called `Pal Checker'. Next time I make new buddies, I'll tattoo their asses with barcodes and put them under the scanner to see if they are ever worth my time. To me, getting older (and maybe mostly because it's that time of the month) is not about celebrating, but the kind thoughts that count. I was picking out a belated gift with a bunch of friends that planned to throw someone else who was definitely less important that I am (wah!) a bash, only to have them totally forget that mine from hers was only two days apart! We are linked on Facebook that provides notifications, for goodness sakes. Emo pulak haih.

Yes, hanya suami dan kawan-kawan baik sahaja yang memahami my compulsion for ice-cream, cake and surprises. :)

iv.

My father-in-law passed away peacefully last Friday. It all happened in a flash, and we are still in shock. I have been avoiding religious routines for some reasons I myself cannot fathom but I have come to terms to my responsibility of reciting Yaasin verses for arwah on his deathbed. Funneyh, I have never felt so good and relieved for him. According to a relative, doing that even before a passing helps a Muslim endure the sakaratul maut. Hey, Pengajian Islam 411 for me. I'm glad too that day was a Friday, the first of all days - shall death befall us then, it relieves our burden of gravely Q&As.

Thank you to those who took the time to wish us well and attend the wake. My husband and I are sad that our favourite TV buddy will not be around anymore to annoy us with his Astro Aruna obsession and or make us smile with his hilarious antics. I suppose we would be fine now, but once our relatives are done helping us out with tahlil preparations this whole week, for sure we will get that sinking feeling whenever we come home to a fire-engine red rocking chair that was Arwah's favourite. Sigh. He was one cool dude that will be missed.

By the way, how would you react to a text message from a friend sending you condolences and an invite to a Deeparaya open house in the same line?

Going Strong

2008-06-01T17:55:00.002+08:00

Time flies.

Twelve months ago, I sat nervously in a corner of my room in my wedding dress with 5 kilos of makeup and disastrous henna sketchings on my giant fingers - wondering if I would ever be a good wife to my husband. Whether we'd have enough time for each other, whether we would fight over the remote, whether my cooking would revive one of the ten great plagues, whether having a kid rightaway would be a good idea and sometimes...whether getting married so young(? - perasan) would be the right thing to do.

A year down the road, I ask if our marriage is well.

My heart answers, "It's doing great".

Happy Anniversary, Hot Stud.

Much love and peaches.

Di Emiriah Arab Bersatu

2008-05-21T15:34:00.013+08:00

Currently blogging in Abu Dhabi while waiting for The Steward to come home from his cabin manager training. A brief detour from Dubai where I have been spending the past week at Eldest Sister's. Meanwhile,The Steward's lovely friends are keeping me company. Man, hanging out with a bunch of airline staff really makes me feel a lot fatter than usual.

So far UAE has been fabulous. A fantastic getaway for shopaholics with money to burn for brilliant threads and fads. A broke me is more excited about the culture and places of interest. American TV has stereotyped Arabs as dumb brutes, but exploring the Emirate cities is a total eye-opener. Nine out of ten locals can speak English and none would hassle you for anything as long as you don't bother them. Almost everyone is surprisingly friendly and helpful (except maybe one cranky janitor at the airport who told me "I don't speak English, please ask the next person for directions" articulately). One could leave a BMW convertible with the top down and engine running at the dodgiest spot ever and no one would dare steal it. According to Eldest Sis and husband, people here believe in family values...and deportation.

Half of the working population here are foreign and silly things like public displays of drunkenness could send one back to the home country on the first flight out. So yes, UAE is generally safe and has no such thing as terrorists as one might heavily expect.

Dubai is a metropolitan desert that aspires to be the next London which is turning up slowly but progressively. The government is currently constructing tracks for their very own city trains that would be a blessing for commonfolk who don't possess 27 cars in their garage like the majority of oil and real estate tycoons here. A trip downtown equivalent to Damansara - Puchong would cost roughly about RM 50 one way. It's advisable for travellers to sort their daily itineraries first before hailing a cab on the streets. Interesting to note that cabbies are becoming such a fixture in the Dubai community that they have thought out safer taxis designed especially for women and children, and driven by ladies in pink. Even the SUVs for hire boast the playful colour.

Eldest Sis brought me to Souk Al Madinat Jumeirah next to the infamous Burj Al-Arab (a peghak person's photo must), boasting waterways with a unique Babylonian architecture to it that hosts a marketplace by day and many parties by night. I heard Johan Kleinenberg is spinning there tomorrow. Not bad. Getting roasted in the 45 degree weather drove us to a slight reprieve at a Mines Wonderland-ish amusement park called Ski Dubai to chaperone my four year-old nephew who volunteered to go down the human toboggan slide, the little daredevil. He is rougher and tougher than the aunt who almost passed out from the cold.

I don't really mind the sun since I already have a permanent tan, whatmore going on a scorching desert safari. It's a nomadic experience I recommend anyone who plans to visit the African continent do despite the unforgiving weather. The tour's 4WD picked us up at her apartment and we were driven to beautiful sand dunes in the outskirts of Dubai. It may have been only 1/200 compared to the Sahara but that did it for me. It was gorgeous beyond words. Our convoy parked at an oasis in the middle of nowhere. Tents were set up for guests to go on camel rides, try out the sand bikes and a shot at sandboarding as well. There were even henna kiosks and shisha parlours (but of course) for the less adventurous.I particularly loved the barbecue spread and the belly dancing bit.

I took about 90 minutes to get to Abu Dhabi by bus. It's a peaceful island very much like Penang and the environment here is pretty laidback. I'm joining The Steward at the beach in a while before I go back to Dubai enroute to Kolumpo on tomorrow evening's flight.

Catch you later. Will update pictures when I get back home.

Deadmeat

2008-05-07T11:31:00.014+08:00

You know, I'm updating so very often (about hamsters mostly) now it's obvious that I have no life beyond grad school. Or perhaps devotion to communication theories is no longer a reason to be excused from anything i.e. caring for this space. Hee.

Our Beatles didn't make it. Boy am I bummed. I was really looking forward for the foetuslike younglings to grow. Curious what hue they would each mature into so I can help En Husband colour coordinate their teething toys. Am I with child? I was not without emotions when we buried them in the garden (yeah, a surprise for me too!). Weeping inside. I think keeping pets plays with the strings that keep a person human.

I need that fuzzy feeling to pacify the murderous thoughts I've been plagued with lately. I feel I should bury some morons I know instead of the poor little hamster pups. Some recent encounters made me think of introducing people I loathe to an old friend called RAGE. It's been tucked away from quite sometime now that the anger momentum is building up. Give or take, I could sink some killer hooks.

What makes me want to own an AK-47 right now is ambiguity (even more when it concerns money). If you want to talk to me about anything at all, lay it down straight. Beating around the bush just really takes the cake and makes Ms Nice Gwen want to smack YOU.

WATCH YOUR BACK.

~cranky cranky~

It's a Whole Band!

2008-05-03T11:53:00.003+08:00

Dorothy and Biggie S. came into our home only a week ago. We were thinking that perhaps, still being in their teens would not raise the question of humping each other like there's no tomorrow (yet). And you know what they say about capricious youth. En Husband caught the sex machines at it two days ago. Let me know if anyone is up for Hamster porn, yeah?

Following that incident - just yesterday we discovered what apparently looked like sunflower seeds on their exercise wheel were apparently a litter of four blind, newborn hamsters!! That means Dorothy had been preggers all along even before we took care of `em, the slut.

It could be my bemusement and a dash of cat rearing experience during my childhood that compelled me to save them from being trampled by dumbass Biggie who goes for his run even though the pups are flailing helplessly on the wheel.

I have motherly instincts after all, pbfttt!

I don't care if some of `em are female. En Husband and I are going to call `em John, Paul, George and Ringo.

Only the Strong

2008-04-29T17:50:00.009+08:00

En Husband was presented with a pair of adorable hamsters by his colleagues, fancy that (ps: kudos to the blackjack weekend, everybody - great company). I guess they too, realized that Studmuffin has the heart of a little rascal. So we have two kids now, Dorothy and Biggie Smalls. En Husband doesn't want to touch them just yet because he's scared he'd squeeze the fragile creatures to pulp. Awww. Macam anak betul la plekk.

Our thing right now besides ANTM10 is letting the rodents loose in their rollerballs when we come home at night. Fun, fun, fun!

On other things, the results are IN.

If I had to resit my comprehensive exams I'd probably add to the country's suicide case statistics.

BUT I MADE IT PEOPLE!!!!! I MADE IT.

That fateful phone call from the programme coordinator almost gave me a cardiac arrest. I was beyond relieved, especially when I knew that I redeemed myself with the Communication Theory paper I screwed a few semesters earlier by scoring highest this time around. Revenge is bittersweet!

(monkey dance)

There were times when I thought I was way over my head and that I couldn't cope with the stress of working and studying at the same time. It was not as easy as it seemed but now that it's over, the ordeal wasn't so difficult to overcome after all.

This just goes to prove that when the going gets tough, the tough gets going. Nobody's gonna break my style, nobody's gonna hold me down, oh no I've gotta keep on movin'...

To my loved ones, please accept my sincere and heartfelt thanks for everything.

Coming Soon

2008-04-18T16:55:00.009+08:00

In the age of iPhone gifts, modesty has no place in the world. It's disgusting to know that there are members of our once humble society who walk the earth without an inch of gratitude for designer Balinese roofs over their heads and the luxury of dining out at Sudu Hilton every other lunch date.

Meanwhile, others who are less fortunate struggle at making an honest living but no matter how much bile is swallowed - the world just won't ever give minions the light of day. It's definitely not my place to say that another human being does not deserve to exist because minimal obstacles were overcome throughout their perfect little Serena Van der Woodsen lives.

But yes, sometimes God can be unfair.

To add insult to injury, you get these ingrates expecting to piggyback on your earnest efforts and having the cheek to dip their dirty little fingers into your cup of blood, sweat and tears. Just because they think they can.

(Note to self : It's a test of faith. It's a test of faith. It's a test of faith. It's a test of faith. )

I just can't stand work. Sadly, the four-day break from hell ain't for pleasure. It would be a harvest of pain ; two years (and a half, kind of) of social sacrifice will have its final showdown on the 25th.

If I walk away from it unscathed, I shall then be awarded my MA. Booyah!

Technically that victory would qualify the salutation of Drs. Gwendolyn Mat Piah (only) in Netherlands and Indonesia, short for Doctorandus. Heh. (Macam) Gempak.

Which brings me to the question of pursuing the next best thing, a doctorate which would torture the twinkles out of me for another three years (pulls at thinning mop of hair). The nerd in me is a competent researcher who has passion for unscrambling ideas and putting them on crisp and clean pieces of leather bound paper. The mushroom mortarboard at graduation looks hot too.

Er. On second thought, let me doctor my womb first. I'd rather lose sanity over a kid than...

APA citation.

Rock Jugak Aku Nih Sebenarnya

2008-03-31T16:44:00.001+08:00

What relief solid riffs can bring during bumper-to-bumper traffic. The time spent in massive kilometres of jam reacquaints me with old (boy)friends like Fafara, de La Rocha, Vedder and Staley/Cantrell blasting the stereo to start with. Why I ever left the greatest, most genius string-based genre of muzaak in the first place; beats me. By 2001, I was more Black Legend than Black Sabbath. Thehe.

No regrets, though. I would say abandoning the alternative and nu metal scene was merely transcendence into a universal radio-friendly pot of melodies. Which is a good thing, isn't it?

While reminiscing the good old days at work, a colleague of mine felt disturbed with the screams and yells from the rock playlist (which volume I was pretty discreet with by the way). The prude said that I, in my crisp shirt, flat front tweed Chegu pants and overall old fart getup would be the last person she thought would take up`lagu-lagu tak senonoh yang sesuai untuk mat budak-budak rempit black metal bermasalah mental'.

Hey. So what if we shared the interest? That does not make me a biking maniac that willies at Jalan P.Ramlee on weekends. And if they really prefer Tool from New Boyz, amen for them, you know? Plus why does rock always needs to be associated to depressed machete-weilding psychopaths? You watch too much TV.

It really depends on how a person interprets the music and how they carry it with them. I listen to rock for meaningful lyrics, creative music arrangement and mostly because of frontmans who have charisma or beautiful voices. But that's just me. I know CEOs, lawyers, accountants, journalists, IT programmers et cetera who are super hardcore fans than I am but carry on living normal lives.

So kill that stereotype in your head!

Tell me, why do many people use the word "rock" in their everyday conversations to portray liberal and happy-go-lucky thoughts i.e. `rawwkkk on!!!' or `Gwendolyn rocks!' (of course). All in a positive node. It's not just music, it's about carpe diem.

(For example, I rocked the weekend by hosting a nasi ayam fiesta + kerabu mangga cookout with help of En Husband kusayang. Plus, I baked carrot cake for dessert!)

\m/ \m/

Anyhoo. Just a preview of an amazing movie that cynics should consider. Watch everyday pot-bellied men Jack Black and Kyle Gass kick some Satan ass (with rock)!!

Next Vacation - 60 days and Counting

2008-03-17T10:37:00.010+08:00

I forgot to schedule an appointment for the BP follow-up. Can't help murderous thoughts when it comes to work. The kickboxing classes I've been going to seem to help but I think I twisted my right arm trying to look as if I belong amongst bare midriffs and Schwarzenegger biceps. The control freak in me joins them in making macho noises at difficult kicks and punches but I think the screams are leaning toward cries for help. Somehow or rather, it's addictive. Heh. At least the people in my class are superfriendly and undiscriminating (oh, we chest bump and knuckle fives from time to time) compared to the yoga sessions of fat housewives with really mean facial expressions who reserve spots and mats for their gossipy friends.

Kalau mek tak berketul by hujung tahun ni, mek tak taulah nak cakap apa.

The upcoming getaway(s) are taking quite some time to materialize. A shame that spouse's international project has not yet seen the light of day, otherwise I'd probably be rolling around with some Wendy Bears in Kuta with him and good friends. Man. I need seabreeze, a good book, good company and Double Stuf Oreos all in one seating.

Hopefully Dubai in May would be fabulous. I've missed the crazy sales (could almost hear the purse breath a sigh of relief) but I hope the end of spring does not take away too much outerwear and Arab winds. I am actually more keen on the cultural aspects of Dubai rather than spending a fortune on Nine West shoes. I hear desert safaris require some off-road driving. Schweeeeet. Still, Kaklong warned me that everything in Dubai is pricey. One journey out with a cab to the nearby mall is already RM 50. With that in mind, sweet En Husband took up a few freelance jobs to raise money for my trip. Oh Sang Suami, cintaku kepadamu semakin utuh, baby. Mwahs!

As for July, I think Kuching airport would be running out of cabs to Damai Beach at the rate Facebook invites are going. They hiked up the prices for everything so bad that people are willing to pay me a bomb to squeeze into a hotel room of eight pax. Hmm. Interesting business.

Isn't it funny, in the low-context communication that we Asians practice; of beating around the bush, avoiding taboo subjects, saying things only what people want to hear but try not to stroke the egos of others too much that they become more superior than you, someone surprises you with a compliment you'd never expect.

A new colleague startled me with a question.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"
" One, and four."
"Oh, are your sisters all as beautiful as you?"

This, coming from a woman who is as straight as a pole. And by the way, isn't local. Her eyes had a sincere sparkle too. Maybe we Malaysians should be more open and honest to help relationships around us flourish, not to mention we make someone's day in the process.

Then two hours later, I heard her say the same thing to our janitor who could be an estranged relative of Mona Fandey.

140/100.

Lihatlah Duniaaaaaa

2008-03-10T17:19:00.000+08:00

Honestly. I have never cared about politics but I guess with age that specific concern grows. Yeah? Is that the case with all Generation Y-ers or have I crossed over to the twilight zone of makciks? I spent the weekend catching up with the elections in between many wedding invitations and watching couples voting in their wedding costumes on TV. I am truly embarrased that I, myself could not exercise my rights to vote.I blame it ALL on horrenous DJ parking that came between me and my registration. Seriously, people. Can't we reach a meaningful objective without paying RM 1.10 per hour for Atria's rundown lots? The moment I got myself sorted, the lady at the post office chuckled, "Tahniah dik,adik sekarang boleh mengundi pada 2012.Harap-harap PKR ada lagilah masa tu".

Regardless, the turnout is fair game. To me, it doesn't really matter who the ruling party is. It is how the ruling party performs. "A change would do you good, " kata Sheryl Crow once upon a time. I am personally excited that Selangor will receive a new CM who (hopefully) would not spend taxpayers' money facial surgeries in Germany. And (back to parking issues) with the new government, MBPJ could revise its rates and spaces for our angry folks, especially for That College area. Tired of the same tardy excuse from students and rushing back to the office after lunch to beat peak parking.

Talk about grub, had a get-together with some old buddies. Sometimes, waiting for food brings out the worst in cranky people. As expected, my beer belly would be the hot topic in question. "Ada isi tak ni?" they'd be prodding my midsection with their tubby fingers like the other time we met, and my answer would always be the same, "Ada. Nasik!".

But that wasn't really what made me fume. One of them, XX suddenly stopped in mid-prod and asked me, "Hows XY though? Is she expecting?"

XY got hitched about earlier than I but it was safe to disclose that XY wasn't keen to start a family soon.

"Planning? Are you sure??" XX scoffed.
" Why? Not advisable ke?" Not getting it.
" No, what I meant - isn't she always competing with me? Our grades, our jobs, our husbands our weddings!! I'm sure she'd want to have more kids just to spite me!"

WTF here we go again. XX's tone was full of vendetta that in shock, I actually pulled back. Flashback to 10000 B.C. where these two weren't on good terms because they both fought for my attention (borrows Helen of Troy feel for a while). What can I say, I am irresistable, you know. I've had fallouts too, but I always come to my senses with the old "to know someone is to love someone" saying.

"She's not like that anymore. She's a changed person."
"Hah! Changed? She'll always be like that." Pot calling the cattle black.
"How do you know? "
(Silence)

I wished I touche that further with, "When was the last time you actually sat down with each other?" but at the risk of another feud, I sealed my lips.

On other things, once I participated once in a so-called psychoanalytic quiz that involved a jungle and a whole lotta walking. I was told at the end that I possess the traits of a bear, of all creatures. What does it really represent? Even the interpreter who tried to Freud me couldn't really figure out the furball's actual characteristics. Does it mean I should like sweet stuff (amen to chukulat!)? Or that I am generally a bum? Maybe my yo-yo temper's something to be wary about? Could I actually be good at fishing with my bare hands (hell, that didn't work at Kenyir).

Things remotely bear-ish about me ..hmm. The waistline. And an optimum bass level roar. Ha!

I won a VO role of an evil female character for the BM version of The Lion King series; to be screened on Astro Ceria soon - mostly because I sounded like a coked-out fourty year old grizzly on the mic, I think.

If you can recall your Disneys, take a wilddddddddddddd guess which part I got.

Damn right this is a proud moment. I am part of something (relatively) big, something I would have killed to do way back when ten-year old Gwendolyn was an aspiring actress *mak dulu dramz gilz okayh*. Thehehhehe.My 15 minutes is coming y'allz, even if it's behind the camera..await for updates!

About Time

2008-02-28T00:19:00.008+08:00

I thought I made my life simpler when I refused that promotion and settled for less daunting responsibilities like teaching and coordinating the internship module. It is not in any way pleasant when you have demanding brats to deal with. One girl, who is a no-nonsense A pupil told me, " Ms G, I won't accept anything less Leo Burnett and the likes." Wah, wah.

She clearly didn't understand what the phrase "Don't call us, we'll call you" meant up to when the panel asked her to mock-sell French toast to aliens at an interview with O&M.

As expected,she back came to me crying.

How I miss the creative biz of conning people into buying something they don't need.

The kids have very unrealistic demands. Last semester was easy, I had 30 bright students. This time around, I have to think twice before sending cover letters that say - I'm not sure of what area of communication to pursue,but I can certainly dance. I am furthermore irked at their concern for moolah from work scope. Ms G, how am I going to survive with less than RM 300 per month? I've got shopping to do, you know!

Dude. I had peanuts in the 3 months I was attached to a full-service agency but nevermind that. Learning to use G4 for Quark and sipping kopi O with some of the best copywriting brains in the industry was priceless. I think tears welled when I browsed through Media Planning Guide '07, realizing how it could have been if I just had persevered.

February is definitely a month of discoveries. I was told by a friend that I am now semi-related to a recently engaged blogger whose site was formerly my religion. I think initially we were quite friendly with the comments until I killed the old address. Should I actually tell her the next time we meet for soto at Mak Ngah's? Maybe not. I think artsy-fartsy people wilt at confrontations. Interesting though.

Also bumped into an arch nemesis who thought I was too ugly to date her brother way back when. And unfortunately, we were colleagues once. It was at a banana leaf restaurant and I had too much rice to switch on ass-kissing mode. I just couldn't conceal my disgust. Perhaps it was a private sector employee reaction to lazy, botoxy and gossipy gomen workers like herself. Ignoring my obvious pout, she bragged, "Hey you know J (Jackass to me) is working at this fab architectural firm and doing really well, like now some kinda hotshot?"
"No, I don't know."
"And he's seeing this beauuuuuuuuuuuuutiful stewardess!!! How about YOU?"
Her singsong cynicsm sounded like bad techno. The entire mapley was not spared from her loud, shrieky broken English. It's embarrasing to have heads turn to you while her friends chuckle on annoyingly.

If I only I had a cattle prod.

"Well," I drawled, "I am, in fact, MARRIED," I held up my wedding ring and walked off.

On other things, a mandatory medical exam found me frowning over a 140/100 BP. I honestly didn't think I was that stressed. Although it receded after a follow-up appointment, I couldn't help but be disturbed by the fact that arwah Loloq died from it. Immediately En Husband and I signed up with a gym. Hehe.

So far I haven't strayed but I can extend the attitude into a good-lookin' tankini body in time for RWMF. Here's hoping.

Impulse buy of the month led me to a discounted air ticket to Dubai for May. Excuse: initial plan was to only assist my travel-agent illiterate mother book a seat (damn you, convenient MAS reservation hotline). In the process she got a good yelling from Pops for just coming back from Kaklong's place there and going again in March. Another trip in the middle of the year was going to be a little too much. Shopping Frenzy Chapter 312 was unfortunately scrapped.

Thinking that I'd be home alone anyway during that timesince En Husband would be outstationed and my inlaws are going to checkout their relative's new pool in Jakarta, heck - I decided that I'd like to see them desert oases for myself.

What's a girl to do?

When You Least Expect it

2008-01-24T15:45:00.013+08:00

Astro just seems bland without the unofficial E! couch correspondents. I grew up with half a dozen siblings and now the top and bottom tiers are away from The Hierarchy of Mat Piah Brats.

I'm ashamed. I haven't actually had the chance to check up on Little Brother in Dublin except the time I asked if he'd knicked my iZen MP3 player (which he did). And as usual, seized the opp to make fun of his chest hair. A few days ago he called,asking if I wanted anything at all on eBay that he could buy for me as a souvenir. No maximum price. I'm not sure if that was to make up for relocating my knockoff iPod to another continent, but, awww.

I think I'll send him `Impak Maksima' and `Nana Tanjung Kembali' DVDs in return of a brand new cellphone ( model suggestions, please).

When people come up to me enquiring on how to order Kaklong's cupcakes, unaware that her family's relocated altogether; I imagined that she could probably try to courier the stuff from Dubai. Of course must propa, okay. I've missed the bunch. Thought of screwing the card limit and drop everything for a surprise visit but I found out they will be coming back for three weeks.

Even better!

On our very short CNY Break on Lake Kenyir, I figured that I've underestimated local tourism. I'll give it to Donut for the suggestion of doing something that's off the beaten path. The high was a concoction of rolling around in a creaky boathouse with good company, rounds of Taboo, a pair of boardshorts and dozing off next to a waterfall.

Let's do that one more time.

My Life is (Kind of) Over

2008-01-22T09:26:00.000+08:00

Didn't know corrupted files could affect me this much.

I accidentally pulled the plug (in literal meaning) on my fairly new Western Digital 80 GB external slim adapter-less hard disk from the notebook. My dismay was that nothing was spared out of the catastrophe.

5 years of professional work - gone in a flash (disk). Sorry, I can't help the puns.

Is it normal to be teary about this?

CINTA IT 101 (lessons painfully learnt)

#1 Yanking the USB cable while it is still saving a document is stupid.

#2 Do not attempt to work the hard disk when you have not slept for 24 hours.

#3 Every month, backup files in another location. Ideally, on your workstation or workstation server. Or, archive the older documents in CD-RW/DVD-RWs while the current ones in a pendrive.

#4 There are such things as file retrieval softwares free on the Net. Even my IT guys didn't know that. Hah! It takes at least 12 hours to find something though, but worth the try (still waiting)

#5 Look through emails for documents sent in the past.

#6 Belilah Maxtor. En Husband's got soaked in the rain and it's still working okay.

The Era of The Tech Geek has begun.

Tired Spirit

2008-01-18T10:24:00.000+08:00

No,that wasn't a hiatus. December was just pathetic and abysmal.

Hermit Calendar of Events Check = still barren *now,now-pats leather organizer*.

Talk about inability to propagate, yes ; we are still trying. The slight paunch you see is merely 13 years' worth of KFC O.R. drumsticks (walking around in sackdresses provoke the worst assumptions). We are exhausted of answering to "When?". The Gwen and En Husband Jrs will arrive in good time. Meanwhile our wonderful friends who are loving children trapped in adult bodies will do the trick. Maybe, just maybe, God has intended for our child to come once we're done scraping around for loose change. And I hope too, when the doors finally open for us to welcome a baby - it will be with McLaren strollers.

I hate to dwell on the general perception that academicians teach few classes, go for three hour shopping lunches, play Yahoo Text Twist and browse anti-government videos on Youtube. The stereotype just does not apply to underpaid lecturers in private colleges without the advantage of a flexi-timetable. Somehow I spend more time at work than with my husband, and even he works extended hours. So stop assuming that I have nothing else better to do than updating my Facebook on a half-hourly basis. And my mother does not send me lunch at the college gates.

New Year's was low-key (or perhaps, I've gotten old). I'd rather eat a whole lamb than brave pointless night-time traffic. I am too much in my comfort zone to care whether I am hip enough. I have hips, alright. All 44 inches of them. The idea of spending time with loved ones seemed more appealing. Who knew our get together produced fireworks from just an Osram garage lamp?

I'm not going to have anymore resolutions. They never work. Just the thinking of the word sets me back a day. I am a hopeless dreamer, so I will dream.

Another Reason to Open Fire

2007-12-12T11:38:00.000+08:00

Me? I guess the wrinkles on my face took up some response time.

Out of the many sidejobs I've committed to over the years, I found writing for the Ganu Project most interesting. I liked it so much that last night I just giggled when the team told me my articles were accidentally sent to print with someone else's name on them.

By the barnacles on my mermaid butt, I must have been high from all the KFC I had at Mom's .

Oh, it had nothing to do with plagiarism. Just one major design faux pas of using same newsletter template over and over again with the original author's signature unedited.

Today.

My head had their nervous laughter playing over and over. In the shower, in the car, at my cube. I don't know why I keep telling myself that I was okay with the boo-boo.

You know what? It's NOT OKAY. Hell, I'd get a seizure even when people don't spell `Gwendolyn' right!

~ think that's anger right there~

There are solid reasons why I always insist to proofread FAs. I don't charge for that because I am a professional and I never take mistakes lightly as it would look stupid on me, subsequently making my client look like a dumbass. But no, the agency decided to throw any work ethic they had out the window and take editorial matters into their own hands.

And what did it come to? Humiliation on my part. So much for reviving my portfolio.

I've met the deadlines and insane demands. All they could have done was to honour that.

I'm sorry but it hurts.

Guns Shouldn't be Prohibited in KL

2007-12-10T11:22:00.000+08:00

Wore myself out from fantasies of strangling the new kid at work.

All Cik Brownnose does at the office is whoring the place up with deco. Halloween deco. Xmas deco. Birthday deco. Farewell deco. Deco, deco, deco when her job description clearly spells superceding Gwendolyn's handover of the century which includes military training equivalent of student administration.

She was supposed to suffer and cry in the bathroom like the rest of us before her. Instead, work hours are spent chatting to the boss (by invitation) about health nuts and grains in the last two months of her employment. As token of appreciation (wtf), the bitch was granted a parking spot sponsored by The College.

Must I not eavesdrop if my cube's just next to boss' office?

I was fine with Dynamic Duo planning lunches together and sharing fashion tips, but going for a vacations together is just crossing it.

Plus I pay RM70 every month to not get my arse fined by MBPJ.

You know, I never believed in `kissing ass'. Every moral nerve I have in my body tells me it's metaphorically and literally wrong. For Pete's sake, the term "brownnosing" was derived from the image of an obsequious person whose nose becomes soiled in kissing the rump of someone from whom favor is sought".

Euww.

I don't care if I am at the bottom of the food chain. I work hard at things and I am proud to be honest. Graduated at the top of my class on my own (with scholarship) . Got jobs on my own, no string-pulling. I don't need to tell people things I made up or do things I dislike just so that person would like me and take me places.

I take me places.

And I need to get this hump on Yuletide vacation, pronto.

Landlord M. Focker

2007-11-22T13:23:00.000+08:00

The best thing about being a teacher is that you get to yell at students. Therapeutic; yes, but I can't help the multiple seizures that come when assessing the kids' mini ad campaigns. Not a happy week.

In an interesting turn of events, my Rajinikanth instincts acted up again. I managed to weasel out of that promotion they promised. No. More. Admin.Crap., my exact words were. And since the numbnuts I look after (surprisingly) gave rave reviews about me on the school teaching survey, I blatantly asked for just a lecturer raise instead. Coolly I explained that I need more moolah to recover from thousands spent to nicely put the KD house up on the market.

She positively considered the suggestion during my appraisal.

(unsightly victory dance)

Oh by the way we found ourselves a tenant, people. Joy the world!! Just in time for the transition to an increased monthly loan payment. It went so quickly that we didn't have enough to host a NYE parti buih before the couple moves in. Heh.

A good year ahoy!

Suatu Petang di Taman Tun Dr. Ismail

2007-11-21T11:11:00.000+08:00

A peroxide blonde I knew from my former office at The Company called me out of the blue, wanting to to meet. I was surprised that their damned Outlook hasn't deleted my contact details yet (so much for a leading telco).

The only thing I remember about her was the wave of nausea crawling up my throat whenever she starts talking about the many rich boyfriends and exclusive trysts she's had in swanky Beemers. Once, she proudly announced to the office makcik-makcik on a usual lunch outing that "dating's just like getting a change of clothes."

One makcik choked on an ikan bilis. That: I will never forget.

Heck, the only thing I've changed that often was my job.

Over the phone she told me she recently married and settled down some hot geek from the IT department so I thought I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Blondie's a different person now.

Maybe she's sincere about spending quality time to win her friends back.

Sadly, after 15 minutes of deciphering signals from our small talk at NKP I figured out that the only relationship she wanted from me was as her networking downline.

Snake! I should have known from the millions of attempts from greedy morons like her trying to "convert" me into various fraudulent-sounding MLM horsecrap to stay away.

Ese, just because I smile alot and nod politely when you open your big mouth it does not mean that I'm going to listen to what you say!

.." so, Gwendolyn, macamana?"

"I don't want to. It's just not me. "

" Why not? Lecturers like you get such measly pay. Don't you want to drive a Benz like me?"

My ears felt hot. Beyotch - in the first place, I don't even like you. Second, I'm happy with my Baby Atoz. At least it doesn't glow with STD infected patches under UV lighting.

"Like Padaiyappa once said," I smiled wryly as I picked up my handbag, " If I told you once, I told you a thousand times! "

And I walked out of there like a Tamil hero, flicking (or attempting to flick) cigarette to lip. Word.

Mum's the Word

2007-11-14T18:32:00.000+08:00

In pursuit of a private party with friends earlier this month (sorry I'm backdating), I had Eldest Sister who was then visiting hubby in Singapore buy a bottle of dutyfree liquor for us at Changi. I was planning to pick it up at her place in BJ when Mom called.

"Haa ni kakak awak ni ada hantor barang suruh awak amik kat rumah Mama. Apanama..Absolut?Absolut Berri? Ape tah nama dia."

(pause for silenced gasps of mortification)

I wondered if Eldest Sister forgot that I could drive over to BJ. Or aware it was air kencing setan that she asked Mom to keep for me. I wondered too if I was in any way punk'd.

Mom didn't sound mad but I imagined her on the other line in her white telekung sembahyang and tasbih in one hand. Stereotypical, yes. Joking, no. This is the woman who whooped my butt some seventeen years ago when she caught me with the Basic Instinct videotape my dad had originally rented and told the whole world that the next door neighbour's kid is a slut who smokes.

I plucked the courage to remove object-in-question from my parents' home. The sooner I get it done the less guilt and pain from the wrath of Mom I'd feel. When I tiptoed into the living room it didn't take me long to notice that it was on the main dining table in plain sight and in all its ruby glory.

I let a defeated yelp escape my lips.

Then she caught me.

Mom: Awak beli arak ni untuk sapa? (tone suspicious)

Me: Ooo utk mak kau (off guard)..eh tak. Boss saya.

Mom: I see. How come you didn't get her Chivas? Chinese love that stuff.

Me: (bewildered - Mom knows whiskey?) Ok. I wouldn't know what it looks like or how much it costs(quick angel pout).

Mom: Is it a gift? For ass-kissing purposes? (she had a frown at this point)

Me: (shifts weight from one leg to another and looks to the ground for inspiration a quick fib) Yes. It's her birthday.

Mom: Well why didn't you say so? Let me wrap it nicely!! I'll go get the nice paper I bought from IKEA.

She then ran upstairs to get the necessary - whistling gleefully.

Turning 27

2007-10-14T10:43:00.000+08:00

Dear Gwendolyn,

HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!HappyBirthdaytoYou!

Thank you loved ones for the thoughtful, timely wishes/gifts regardless 'tis the season to be stuffing our faces with multiple plates of rendang, ketupat and nasi impit.

Time for that diet (again).

The last 365 days have been very maturing. Coping with the new job, making reliable friends, getting solemnized to a man I now call my dear husband, extending the family, dwelling within the compounds of a different yet fulfilling home. Change has taught me that there are more important things than whining about what I don't have.

I have everything I need after all, even if they come in moderation.

A recent amateur palm-reader revealed that I will lead a very brief life. Of course I try not to believe in that mumbo jumbo. Syirik. The predictions; although questionable, just curioused me with what may come next.

And motivated me to vive una vida loca. Something I've been holding back for a long time.

We'll just see how accurate those lines are.

A Brief Discourse with the Inner Doofus

2007-10-01T15:33:00.000+08:00

Productivity is at its worst. I don't know if I should point my chubby stubs at the fasting month, Facebook or my own lazy arse.

There's a reason why I took up a Masters Degree. Running around like an underpaid clerk is not it. Teaching is a ball but for the love of God, how did I get myself suffused with this admin hell on wheels? The minion scope is just silly, silly. Especially when you answer to a divorced lady boss suffering from yeast infection. Just catching her reflection from a compact mirror makes you itch. Tsk.

I've also just realized that every time I start a new job; major movements instead major improvements can be seen. Bankruptcy (I kid you not), restructuration of the organization chart, high attrition rates and condemning policy changes to name a few.

Theoretically, I am a payroll jinx.

tralalalalalallaallalalaaaaaaaaaaaanowondernothinggoodeverstickstralalalala

I need to wash this bad karma off me.

A recent travel writer vacancy gouged my eyes out but I could hardly put together a superb cover letter like I normally would (which in the end crafty journalist Cik Bovril helped finish). Dude, malunya. I thought I was talented in that area. I thought writing was my gift!!!At the rate of my imagination losing at the garden snail race, I am starting to wonder if the intergalactic Lord Xenu had probed me in my sleep and stole all the right juices.

What is it in a day's work that would make me content? What am I really good at? What the hell am I actually sure of?

I think I've found my calling.

A few days ago I had a chat with Samilah Sidek, an old friend who's moving up north for his new teaching job at UUM after Raya (sure ke nak pegi ni, kena liwat dengan rimau nanti? :D ). With the rush of packing and all, he can only throw a belated farewell bash in conjunction of his January birthday.

"Mak tatau la nak stick dress code yang sama ke tak," Samilah fretted.

"Masih nak S&M ke? Aku tak muat catsuit atau thong PVC plis!" Honestly, I was trying to save myself from the rashes.

"Habis tu party mek nak buat tema ape ni?

Hoh. At the mention of themes, my brain jumpstarted to clockwork. My successful party plans for Britain,Britain,Britain and Back to School in those heydays (hell, I came up with that before Bangsar did) preceeded me.

" Apa kata since uolz nak jadi cikgu kan.."

" Yessss?"

" ....why not kau set theme tu as `Kerjaya Impian Saya'?"

" Apa kena mengena Kerjaya Impian Saya dengan cikgu cikgi? "

" Alaaa. Ingat tak masa primary school our teachers suruh kita isi satu fail biru ni dengan three different ambitions every single year?

...

Everyone just LOL. Burst.

" Brilliant la cadangan tu." Giggle. Giggle. Snort. Giggle.

" Aku nak datang party Samilah blow rambut ala-ala ah soh, pakai blazer and bawak cutout sebiji peti TV."

" Kenapa pulak?"

" Sebab cita-cita aku dulu nak jadi pembaca berita!" Glances at expanding waistline.

" Aku berangan nak jadi doktor. Doktor sangatlah kan, " ujar Samilah sambil mem-file nails.

" Dulu ada adik kawan aku ni comel sangat..pernah tulis dalam file tu nak jadi posmen...."

" Kau tunggulah nok, confirm kawan-kawan nadnop kau datang pakai uniform stewardess MAS dengan trolleybag skali!"

We all guffawed till the roof almost flew off.

Superstar Party Planner is my destiny-I can see it now! I'll make people happy by doing things that keep me happy. I love being part of memorable moments..and getting credit for it!

happyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappy

Time to look into the solid establishment of partying the house down.

Party animals, to your positions!

Syawal is Going to be Depressing

2007-09-08T11:06:00.000+08:00

It's been a wonderful 2006-2007, for me at least. Family-wise, those living abroad were done with whatever commitments they had and finally got their arses back to KL. We've spent time bonding and mending strained relationships. Everyone was supportive of and present at my wedding including the latest, most adorable addition to the clan; Cik Princess Jasmine.

*cue Love Story theme*

But the nomadic pattern doesn't stay dormant for long. Soon:

1) Kaklong and fam will move to Dubai; husband's got a job there.

2) Little Brother aced his A-Levels and will be flying to Dublin to become a grizzly afro-haired doctor.

3) Twin No #1 will be spending two months in Houston, TX for this IT training thingamabob.

Everything's happening in this month itself. I foresee a quiet Raya. We're back to square one again with gaps in the family potrait.

Sigh.

Oh, well. At the bright side, there's many places to travel to with free lodging *LOL*.

Will miss you guys dearly.

Cuti-Cuti Malaysia Pt.II - Langkawi

2007-09-06T16:25:00.000+08:00

An update is due.

This entry belongs in a museum. I've lost all excitement to write for it, honestly; but it must be done. Now that the brouhaha over accreditation has left the building, I'd better input before those vultures come back for the next round where my life will be in its recurring nightmare of student files.

About The Honeymoon, En Husband and I have been working weekends in and out, prior to. It's been a madhouse here at my office as well as his. Tender this, tender that, programme post-pro, kids' convocation, registration, blah.

We were so burnt out that we woke up late for our flight. Which was pretty ironic considering that we are both annoyingly punctual (well for work, at least).

Both of us had different recollections how we last left Langkawi. En Husband showed me the sight were he and his four sisters almost drowned ten years ago at Cenang Beach that sparked his fear of water (although he knows how to swim).

The last time I was here I was backpacking student and drunk.

Heh.

Talk about booze;

I couldn't help but go berserk at these in the many duty free shops other than grabbing kilos of chukulei to bring home. I've gotta give it to these Swedes for Absolut bottle designs.

I think I just found myself a new obsession.

And at a corner somewhere, Ramadhan is looking at me with eyebrows wrinkled.

It's not about the content (at all *grin*). I would say it's appreciating good packaging. I've been collecting premium lighters and playing cards of the world (which stopped tentatively due to depleting funds).

This time around I wouldn't ask much for my impending birthday. I will complete line of Absolut minis once I get my hands on Absolut 100 proof, Peppar and Pear *smiles expectantly*. It's only RM 6.50 per.

En Husband's friends were here on the island too. Paid them a visit at where they were staying (which was a posh resort all the way at Tanjung Rhu where Schumacher meditates before his F1 races).

I was told they were here for business. Hehe.

AirAsia was actually on time.A 4D opp.

Ada ke kasi two single beds for honeymooning couple?

Langkawi is beautifully raining cats and dogs and monkeys

Monkeys that steal your cans of cola

The only thing you'd get knocked up on is jentik-jentik at Tasik Dayang Bunting

The mysterious/romantic/sexy Bon Ton with the weirdest culinary dishes

Ibrahim Hussein's gallery is a bit musty but raunchy

Don't pee in the water when you swim or eagles at Singa Besar will swoop down and spank you

I was expecting our finale would be a trip down memory lane (and an induction for En. Husband) to the infamous Coco Jam nightspot of transexuals,beach boys and mat rempits where *rewind to 2001* myself and girlfriends had KFC barrels of bemused laughter.

Unfortunately for us two this time around, Chenang Beach has been reduced to mediocre pubs and bars.

Reggae House was not bad for a dinghy shack a'la Mamak Peter in Damansara Jaya. It was still a hot, hot affair; dreadlock or no dreadlock. Here's a cover of Gwen's `Underneath it all'.

Gwaan, dweet, be Irie in Langkawi!

Trainwreck

2007-08-13T10:46:00.000+08:00

I know I did my hair recently, but I doubt the unnatural frizz came from ceramic perming.

Seriously That College needs divine intervention of some sort. Or maybe just plain office automation.

I've not had this much to do since learning programming and administrating CRM training with that a-hole unit at The Company which in the end triggered my exit.

I will try not succumb to burnout this time around. Consistency, Gwendolyn. Consistency.

My room makeover at home is delayed. The shirts are piling up and need ironing. Haven't had sex in two weeks (too much info, sorry).

Even my blog posts are backlogged.

On a lighter note, have not the chance to pick up the keys to our humble apartment in KD. The one year wait is over.

But, will get back to life once workload lets me (soon).

Until then.

A CTOS is on the Way

2007-07-24T11:39:00.000+08:00

People close to me have wondered what it is that sucks me dry on pay day.

E-commerce, my friends.

Ever since I got my first credit card I've been shopping online like there is no tomorrow. Resistance is futile now that Gen X and Yers can access internet 24-7 even at Restoran Nasi Kandar Spring (now you know how I scraped through that `05 Eurotrip). I don't have enough discipline to not type details of my Visa(s) on the keyboard while clicking "Submit" towards miserable debt-filled adulthood.

I am still working off the 20Gs I owe.

I have been a carefully cognitive consumer these past two years, but a recent incident may have pried Pandora's Box open.

My obsession about getting the MMR-60 FM transmitter was overwhelming. Rastaroofus introduced Banos and I to this little marvel that allows Sony Ericsson cellphone users to plug and tune music playlists on the cellphone to an FM station on home stereos and ..

especially car ones.

(eyes glaze)

Now that I'm spending a lot of time on the road considering the commencement of my new postgraduate semester I need my Gwendolyn Mat Piah Ultimate Summer Hits. Very dear old friends eBay and Paypal have worked hard this past week and my soon-to-be transmitter is now on its way to me from HK. I saved RM 270 from its outrageous price tags here in KL.

I B2C technology.

(ecstatic)

In my euphoria I couldn't help notice that a pair of rare ruby Crocs Prima is up for bid.

(eyes glaze again)

It just doesn't help that I have received a pre-approved Maybank credit card after signing some addendums on my revised ASB loan.

(faints)

Some Resolutions

2007-07-23T11:10:00.000+08:00

Countdown to honeymoon : 7 days.

Work is piling up en route. I'm glad my filing skills are still at its finest.

Though my kids' finals are over and the more I reflect on what I've done for them the more I realize that I am a lecturer without substance. My teaching outcomes are beyond weak.

And I just have the excuse of being appointed merely 4 days before the semester started.

This time around I vow to commit myself to wholesome learning and going beyond my call of duty to excite the kids. Spent the weekend rewriting course outlines and at Basheer's splurging on advertising and marketing books (managed to keep it to that and not clothes). Kind of miffed that two items cost about RM 169 but I guess a little investing goes a long way.

Contacted some friends in the industry to come to deliver talks about the oohs and aahs of creativity and consumer behaviour too. Thanks for the favour guys (despite the fact that The College could only afford goodie bag tokens of mugs and stationery) .

Show us why you all are the only survivors from our alma mater who are actually in the trade.

By the way if any of you reading this who knows or who are big guns from full-service advertising agencies as well as FMCG companies who are nice, obliging, sporting and don't mind taking two-hours off work to talk about what you or they do and to meet my hot young students (I was told that the ration of lookers are high here compared to other tertiary institutions), please let me know.

On other matters, staying with your in-laws has the absolute plus of good food. And elders pestering you to eat them. I am growing out of my skinny jeans. Not good.

I suppose going on that detox again would finally fit me into the halterkini I've only managed to lay aimlessly on the bed.

Time to commit. No more wedding menu excuses.

RM 1 for every "meal breach".

Sorry Langkawi, one week would just not permit a lean me on you. Let's work towards a trim November.

It's a Friday

2007-07-20T13:58:00.000+08:00

I am suddenly inspired to write a book. I even came up with a lame title for it.

The idle hours of invigilating exams make me appreciate the space that I don't have at the cubicle. My thinking cap has been on the coat rack for far too long now so I am pleasantly surprised at the amount of ideas that come pouring while I pretend to observe a hall of students for two hours.

It would contain a cliche yet unconventional love story that runs through the polluted streets of Kuala Lumpur.

It must have been that Dina Zaman writing workshop held at the faculty last month.

I just wonder if I would have the time to have the bits and bobs construed and assembled on the wordprocessor. And I am just afraid that it would be an amateur literary disaster.

But here's hoping (and extend that for another few years).

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.

Anyway, today marks the fifth year of the relationship with En Husband. My children would pass out from shock if they knew how it really went down (pun intended) way back in 2002.

Here's to eternity, baby *glass clinks*

I am Aborigine

2007-07-16T09:46:00.000+08:00

Saya rasa nak bunuh diri sekarang.

But before I explain why I'd like to jump off a bus, a prologue:

I want to secure that promotion they promised. I heard it's been delayed to January considering a departmental re-org. Have been working hard like the old days. I honestly enjoy staying back with Hammy mode on to finish work. I feel efficient although it's a paraphrase to other people's backlog.

Battling demons in me and (perhaps) demons in the office. I have been forewarned by colleagues, when A4 paper rims start rustling by themselves:

It is time to go home.

Which happened on three occasions when I was alone. My boss's take on this after I mentioned this to her: "if you don't get the hell out by then the banging and clanging will gradually get more violent". And I thought she didn't believe in the tooth fairy.

Sigh. I hate to be running and carrying four three-inch files back to the car in my wedges.

But that's not why I want to kill myself. I love my job immensely (at this point of time) so I'll partly blame it other than Air Asia's ridiculous fares for depriving me of some RWMF summer-lovin'. I get hives thinking about LAN documents I had to settle on the same weekend.

I have also found out just recently that in conjunction of visit Malaysia year, they have extended the World Music Festival to Penang this weekend when I am on duty for the students' graduation.

*climbs on the new, chic Transnasional at Jalan Duta-ready for hasty and painful exit*

Although I can't possibly make the Penang dates good news that this annexe will be an annual event like its predecessor. The RWMF and PWMF, hand in hand. Yeayyyyy!!!!!

Note to self: must apply leave for two July weekends next year from today.

Visit Malaysia 2007 Pt I - Enculturation / Acculturation

2007-07-09T13:25:00.000+08:00

My premature senility is validated. I honestly forgot all three weddings (of friends and relatives) I promised to attend on notorious 07.07.07 when I downed full payment for our weekend rendezvous.

To not become casualty from Mom's wrath of `show up at family events or die' I had to tell her a little white lie - which was some department teambuilding nonsense at Eagle Ranch, Malacca.

A dead giveaway if she knew of its correct Port Dickson location *slaps forehead*.

But yeah, guilt trip lasted only up to Sungei Besi. The hours spent on traffic that day could have gotten us to the Causeway but I didn't mind and was particularly excited since I was once upon a time an Ayer Keroh dweller doing a year of Pre-U .

Ah, that bittersweet stint of meeting lifelong friends and growing out of then washboard abs with our variety of culinary adventures. It was like going home.

I appointed myself guide for En. Husband but the last I've been there was three years back and since roads have changed, buildings have multiplied, landmarks have been upgraded. Even the old MMU campus has transformed into an accurate image of a varsity with an a'la Sydney Opera House getup *beams with pride*. To our further amusement there's also a mall underneath Dataran Pahlawan where we used to queue up for bullock-cart rides which is currently boasting big labels (MNG opening sale - RM 55 for jeans, Quiksilver & Roxy up to 70% off).

Felt as if we had just crashed our spaceship from Pluto but the rediscovery practically makes us first-time tourists and that's a good instalment to our delayed honeymoon.

I'm not sure why Malacca coins the `boutique hotel' term but our accomodation's alleged trendy facade resembled a full frontal view of Kedai Gambar Pak Thai at Petaling Street.

Upon entry we were delightfully surprised by the chic architecture that stretched the hotel all the way to the back hosting an expansive garden, a bird sanctuary, a spa, a well and even a mini museum. It was formerly a mansion of some old Baba tycoon that had enough Gs to maintain a tiger (!) and ostriches in his backyard sometime back in the 1900s. The rumah agam definitely had a eerie, rustic charm that I couldn't help imagining nyonya spirits drifting about in ill-fitting kebayas and yelling at us for tapping our cigarette ash in their eclectic flower pots.

But of course that didn't happen. Spending the night at Jonker Street makes us a part of the weekend flea market with insane fashion finds and nightclubs filled with ageing expats drinking beer contemplating whether to dance to Akon were. No time to bother about spooks.

We like.

At the corner of our street is the infamous Orang Utan gallery of Charles Cham.

Those who know grin to themselves because Cham is a rebel who promotes safe sex on t-shirts with free condoms attached.

(top) me and ye olde housemates - 9 years ago! (belia betul)
(bottom) photo taken from m-i-n-g (flickr): sorry dude whoever you are, although I don't know you just had to cilok, I forgot to take picture of it la.

We heard he was almost banned from painting in this country by Dr M because of the his daring designs.

My dad called me a pervert when he saw me wearing the penis/rubber tree tee for the first time. Another favourite would be Cham's `To Lah or Not To Lah' but the last one I had got doused in lilac paint in a horrible attempt to makeover my bachelor room so I decided to reprise its cool with a repurchase on this visit. Overwhelming nostalgia. The prices for have gone up though. RM 30 per piece. Used to be RM 20 a pop. The man's gotta maintain galleries in Hungary and France anyway, so imagine how the Mat Sallehs are ripped off when he sells these babies there for €30. Last laugh still ours.

We asked the shop assistant if Mr. Cham himself is available but we were told he only drops by his three galleries around Jonker area briefly once in a while to check on business. After a bout of cendol madness at Stadhuys we made our way back to the hotel and tried to recollect directions to Umbai for dinner when we bumped into him, smoking in front of a closed gallery and waiting for his wife to come back from yoga class with the kids. An excited us asked for a photo-op which he kindly obliged. He was a real nice fella to the point where he suggested things to do on our stay and described the right way to Pernu that leads to our much-discussed Umbai. In his own words, Charles described it as an "excellent place to eat, but no unfortunately no beer. You guys can settle for a pitcher of fresh orange though."

And we did.

Before (a basket of otak-otak and a plate full of sweet and sour lala massacred already)

After

I think we overestimated our gastrointestinal capacities. The guy at the grill stared at us with astonishment when we picked and chose for four considering there were just two of us.

I drove back to the hotel with my eyes half-closed, stomach full up to the nose. RM 70 for succulent, mouth-watering seafood dishes. Not too shabby.

It was the perfect ending to our 24-hr stay (despite the fact that Hajjah Mona Assam Pedas restaurant closed on Sundays).

Simon Cowell Overdose

2007-07-03T09:49:00.000+08:00

In addition to the weekend drama, I am further irritated by shiteous reviews for the Transformers movie.

Hmmph, Americans. I think they're still miffed this giant summer flick hit Asian shores first.

I watched the series when I was a little girl. Although I was never really a big fan I thought the adaptation WAS THE BEST ACTION MOVIE EVER MADE.

My husband's a die-hard Autobot wannabe and he thought it was IT WAS THE BEST ACTION MOVIE EVER MADE too.

It compensated ALL three Spiderman, Shrek and Pirates sequel letdowns. Have you ever been in a cinema where at the end of the movie everyone participated in a standing ovation?

We have.

Please do not wait for the pirated DVDs, this is a cinema must-see.

Not Because of Monday

2007-07-02T10:12:00.000+08:00

We are sad and very offended.

En Husband and I were very proud of our wedding photos. We believed the photogs did a superb job by capturing everything that we saw. We were buzzing with joy when we got the end product.

A typo and some unimportant photos of relatives that wasn't included (while some unwanted ones were inserted instead albeit unintentionally) later sent my family into a kutuk frenzy.

I really had to restrain myself from slapping own blood.

Tak cukup shot ni, shot tu, balik balik gambar ni, kenapa takde gamba bilik takde gambar orang ni orang tu, kenapa photographer ni ambik gambar ni, apa jenis package awak ambik ni....

People just don't get the sticky album concept do they?

For numbnuts that still live in the stone age of Kodak rolls, nowadays only 150 photos can be organized and laminated into each album with customized layout designs on each page. We got two albums that apply to all three ceremonies for less than RM 2K which is a bargain by market standards.

All in we had 1500 pictures! So what was wrong just featuring only event highlights on the sticky albums? We're going to print 800 more outtakes anyway.

I loved every single frame and I still think they are beautiful no matter who or what was in it. By the way, if anyone had bothered to help guide my photogs at the time the crime was committed; they would have gotten their goddamn precious `shots'.

You know, if it was the daughter of some family friend or neighbour's wedding albums I'm sure those would be considered timeless masterpieces even if horsecrap actually look better.

Our photos apparently aren't up to par because we paid less compared to some Porsche-drivin'- cul de sac-dwellers' collections. Sorry if we wanted something modest. It's our freakin' wedding and our money.

I wouldn't feel so effed if the outcome really resembled bat droppings from hell. Imagine someone you look up to coming over to your labour room at the hospital saying, "Hey you know what? Your newborn looks like an orc."

Tell me, how would you react? I am no drama queen,

I'm just genuinely hurt.

I'm gonna go over Mum's place and pick those `ugly' albums so no one can see them ever again.

Don't Think

2007-06-27T15:35:00.000+08:00

En. Husband and I thought we had everything planned.

But alas.

*cue screechy vinyl scratch*

Complimentary vacation is moved forward to early August for copious reasons.

Coordinators by profession, we thought we had picked and bargained the best dates for us to go away for some peace and quiet.

But.

We've confused ourselves with the many wedding dates of several good friends. Our heads would definitely be on a plate if we didn't make an appearance.

In between I will be stuck with four shifts of examination invigilation duties - a last minute assignment. That adds up to the nightmare of summing up my kids' assessments (contrary to popular belief, lecturers are not at all entitled rest when our students embark on fun-filled semester holidays; chiefly private colleges). The only choice we have before En. Husband travels for work extensively again is to fly up there early August. Even at the moment he is so wound up with work that he mulls over the production budget in his boxers when he comes home. Last night he asked me if I had picked up the van for a shoot in Terengganu. While he was sleeping.

Berjaya Langkawi Resort and Spa weekends are fully booked up till the fasting month.

Timing is everything.

We are tired of pushing and sketching and going about things. Langkawi is in a month but it seems like a century. We can't wait anymore. The whole `Pengantin Baru' aura is dying on us.

Dissonance got the best of us and we booked pre-honeymoon tryst next week.

Hell yeah that's impulse for you! *sort of*

It ain't Koh Samui, but we're going to the cost-effective Land of Asam Pedas and we're going to stay here.

Holi-holiday

2007-06-25T11:47:00.000+08:00

I'll take back what I said about CLYBFAWB. The more I read her blog the more I feel that I am leafing through Sweet Valley High all over again. It has developed into a trivial memoir of boys and demanding parents. Yawn.

And no, I still can't link her blog on mine.

On more significant matters, our (my husband and I, nothing concerning CLYBFAWB-doh) pending honeymoon is getting to me. Initially I was pretty alright about not being able to obtain leave after the wedding especially when our budget woes were taken into consideration.

The more I send relatives people off to airports and bus terminals to their vacations the more I ache.

Bali. Phangan. Santubong. Perhentian. Phuket.

^^$^$@#$@$#&*!!

Even my mom is going for yet another kaum ibu shopping trip to Bandung. And to know that she had just gotten her ass back from Redang does not help.

Good thing about rich sister-in-laws though, they're good at delighting people with wedding presents. We are getting a complimentary 3 day 2 night stay at Berjaya Langkawi Resort and Spa!

Finally.

We've been working hard and we deserve the break. We reaaaallly need to get away. I'll apply for unpaid leave. Or MC if that what it takes.

We can put that iZen mp3 player to good use. Cuddle up to the rhthym of waves beating upon the shore. Become immersed with beautiful Mother Nature.

And indulge in the much-needed privacy.

Hooray, hooray.

Like a Bad Habit

2007-06-21T17:29:00.000+08:00

Some kids did a fab job on their Animal Rights' Campaign down the hall. It was a massive jungle out there.

There were even firedancers.

I was especially surprised that I was drawn to the event not because of hot male usherers dressed up in skintight leopard suits:

I was lured into the auditorium by the sounds of a live didgeridoo.

It reminded me of the RWMF.

Oh, the RWMF.

I had a blast last year thanks to great company. Thought I'd pass this time around considering multiple career changes, wedding prep, ringgit issues and many other nagging uncertainties booking up my schedule. I was a mess.

But now that the dust has settled..

I have had second thoughts.

Thank God Air Asia hiked up the flight tickets. I would have done what I could if I was willing to bear the hiked up expenses (it's now 3-fold compared to 2006), knowing that some friends are going too.

I guess I'll be in KL from when the anticipated weekend comes, drowning my sorrows with poppadoms *knocks head regretfully and repeatedly on concrete surface*.

With consolation that there will be no bhangra performance this year. Haaah! Beat that!!

Funny thing though, I can't remember putting my name on a waiting list at Permai Rainforest a.k.a Camp Permai where we stayed during the last RWMF. One lady called me up this morning, claiming one of the reservations for the treehouse was cancelled hence she'd be able to knock me up the list as promised.

Eh?

My memory did not recollect when the agreement nor prior phone conversation even took place at all.

But if there is anyone out there who's interested, behold a :

4d 3n stay package

Atop an exclusive treehouse designed for a maximum of 3 persons

Beautiful view of the South China Sea

Walking distance from RWMF venue

2 x breakfast and 2 x brunch

RM 1100

Although the six of us paid half the price for a spacious cabin for befitting 10 people before this, desperate times call for desperate measures.

So if you've gone bald sorting out a place to stay,drop me a line before 25 June.

A Quickie

2007-06-20T18:06:00.000+08:00

Don't you hate it when you so much want to share with others the blog of the psychopath who once idolized you but for obvious own-butt-saving reasons you cannot link her up on your sight?

Damnit. A brilliant writer at that, too.

Honestly, I kind of miss her. Good thing we are still in touch and she let me in on her newfound hobby of jotting thoughts on the WWW. I remember some months back she couldn't even work Excel, let alone publish a diary online.

I suppose Mad Cavewoman's toting a snazzy iBook now like she had always wanted to.

Could it be that there's always this place deep down inside of me for Miss Girl,Interrupted (a Jolie long shot though)?

A little crazy in your life sometimes can do some good.

Withdrawal Symptoms

2007-06-14T15:45:00.000+08:00

Almost a week at The In-Laws. Haven't had the opportunity to cook/blow gas stove up yet but they have been nothing but superduper nice to me.

I feel very welcome.

It pains me that their only son's loser wife ain't no domestic goddess.

But time will tell.

As much as they have done their very best to accomodate this stranger in their house, I can't help that forlorn feeling.

I absolutely miss home.

Quit that smirk.

I know it's only a five minutes' drive, but moving away from everything that has made me me in the past 27 years is a heartbreaking experience.

I long for my parents. Hanging out and gossiping with my siblings in front of the TV. Playing with my niece and nephew. Appreciating the beauty of a soothing garden. Smiling at the family photos every time.

I even miss the hassle of looking for a parking spot outside the gates.

I hope this transition wears itself out soon.

Just Married

2007-06-04T15:13:00.000+08:00

The Miss is now a Mrs.

Everything went well, praise be to Allah the Merciful.

With the exception of a tardy Ustaz who forgot all about the appointment, it was a beautiful breezy night with stars.

Earlier during the day, a relative advised to find an old piece of clothing I have and to throw it up on the roof. Old folks say that helps to supress showers on important events. Out of curiosity, a skeptic me actually took up on that. The moment my shabby pink Playboy top landed on the tiles, clouds dispersed and the sun said hello. Later to my dismay, however; it started pouring heavily. I then discovered that somebody actually removed the tee from where I placed it and put it back on my dressing table.

Idiot.

And how the hell did that person get up there in the first place?

I took the liberty of once more tossing it up, and when I did that the typhoon-esque drops almost immediately subsided.

How freaky.

The festivities were overwhelming for the akad nikah ceremony and hall reception. Food was superb on both occasions and the company was great. I even scored a brilliant last-minute deal on PA system for En Husband's vows with an emcee and a karaoke jukebox thrown in for only RM 250.

The miracles you can get under pressure.

Thank you all for celebrating us.

I feel that I am truly blessed.

It's pretty weird that we can now sleep together while our parents walk about within a 1000sq ft radius. And the funny thing is, sex after marriage is somewhat raunchier than when we were single.

I suppose granted the rights to do some gives us some sort of reprieve from guilt and lies we'd have to cook up just to spend an intimate evening together in the past.

One more reception to go at En Husband's and I'm going to go on that diet again as well as get some bangs for my receding hairline. A little annoyed that my weight gain is apparent through the photos.

I am going to be The Hot Wife for my husband.

The Wedding Day Itself

2007-06-01T10:59:00.000+08:00

The nerves have gone beyond knots.

Today I be reborn as a new woman.

God bless our souls and may He look after our marriage.

Insya-Allah.

"3 Days To Go, Sucka."

2007-05-29T17:36:00.000+08:00

I'd imagine Samuel L. Jackson saying that with an afro, a moustache and a smoking gun to boot.

And I would be standing there in a PVC catsuit filing my nails.

(Somehow the above simulation does not have any relevance to anything on this post)

95% of Big Day Preparations have progressed with some minor details left. I'm glad I had a 9-month headstart. And Super Mom.

I am too proud to admit this to you so I hope this message would transmit into your dreams or your subconscious mind somehow:

"Thanks for making me do all those things I initially didn't want to do for the wedding because they weren't cool. In the end the weird combos you thought of kind of worked itself out.

I know that you care and I know you only want the best for me even though most of the time it's about competing with 3 other weddings down the alley we live on.

I'm glad that Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was actually a positive trait I inherited from you so at least I was involved just enough for you not to kill me.

Thank you for your good taste and imagination too vivid I tend to tune myself out. In some magical ways your crazy suggestions would materialize no matter what your kids say to protest.

I'm going to miss you when I move to the other side of town.

Love you to bits.

Party-Planning Genius Jr.,

Rebel Daughter."

I need to work on my Thank You notes.

Yesterday, Mom and I; The Dynamic Duo, picked up my dress for the solemnization ceremony from the same beading lady that ripped us off. After tearing at my hair for the fourtieth time from knowing that Mom didn't learn her lesson still and the fact that the original material is already laden with sequins and blah, I crossed my fingers that Con Auntie would at least accept a post-dated cheque.

To my surprise it was not costly at all (assuming that it was a form of consolation for that previous episode we had with her).

When the end product was unveiled, it took my breath away.

~bellissima~

I hope when people look at me on that fateful night, it would take theirs.

Hit That Panic Button

2007-05-25T09:14:00.000+08:00

There's exactly seven days to go before showdown. It only occured to me now that this looming weekend is my last as a single woman.

Wow. What a statement.

My eyes glazed over for a minute there.

I'm very sorry if I glare when anyone asks , "Aren't you nervous?". I have to restrain myself from slapping people on the side of their heads sometimes. It's like them wanting to know whether I have ovaries. But yes - as much as I hate being the one to shatter my own trademark macho pokerface into pieces, I am shaking in my boots.

I have never been this petrified.

Well, maybe 10 years ago when I was desperate to pass my driving test so that the pervy instructor can't elbow my right boobie anymore.

Marriage to me is like The SPM/O-Levels/High School Diploma/MCE of Life. There's that transition to a certain level of maturity that shapes you as a person. A plethora of questions will haunt, and the most consistent one would be: "What happens next?" although you already know the answer.

Screw with it and you shall be scorned. Repeating will never make it the same.

Stats as at today:

Wedding preparations - check

Wedding invites - crawling

Mood - swinging

Physical health - unstable

Funds - depleted

Diet - out the window

Lingerie for legitimate sex - almost there

Packing to move out to in laws - the boxes are still waiting

Jitters - BIG time

Going to have some last minute me time to prospect. Spa bridal package, I am coming.

Consumer Behaviour 101

2007-05-18T13:57:00.000+08:00

I was preparing myself for tutorials on the `Theory of Trying' this week when I couldn't resist including very relevant case study of myself.

My name is Gwendolyn and I was once a Movie-holic.

There was persistence and perseverance in me that will ensure I; with partner or posse, will get best seats in the house for the best movies at all costs.

Freak.

My almost epileptic obsession about doing blockbuster movies before their buzzes fizzle have lost its focus these days with the circus going on in my head right now. But there's always a part of me that is too excited to wait for the DVD especially when it concerns the exotic specimen that is he:

Stop licking the screen. Ini gambar lama.

I am not into him for the good looks (honest). He is a screen legend that constantly delivers and reinvents himself, performance after performance. Now he continues to delight us with the last instalment of Pirates of the Carribean for summer `07.

When I realized that it's just around the corner, my fits came crawling back.

I WANT MIDDLE CINEMA SEATS, 6th ROW FROM THE BACK!!!!!! *tears at hair*

Theory of Trying Application

1. Explains strivings to perform a behaviour to reach a goal

To be one of the first to catch (if not sneak preview) the worldwide Pirates of the Carribean 3 - At World's End release

2. Personal impediments and/or environmental impediments that prevent outcome

Agitating long queues, constantly engaged (not to mention useless) cinema booking hotline and 50,000 other people who have the same intentions

3. Incorporation of past behaviour/experience provide predictive accuracy of trying for consumer

I'm crediting wise Bovril Lavigne for this tip she gave me some years back: visit theatres near you for advance purchase of tickets. By chance some days ago I waltzed into GSC with En Fiancee to watch the pain that is Spiderman 3 and we learnt from chatty sales associates at the counter that GSC will start distributing tickets for Pirates' 24 May launch from today onwards.

It was just our luck that we were around to handpick limited seats for a showing on 23rd May, a day earlier from the worldwide premiere.

Hurry ALL to GSC One Utama NOW to get next week's tickets to get some Depp action. My childhood hero Chow Yun Fatt plays a lead role too.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

Remember, Remember

2007-05-16T09:13:00.000+08:00

A long-lost acquaintance called me up yesterday out of the blue seeking favours.

Let's call him 50 Cent. I have not seen nor talked to 50 Cent for ages. I hated his guts for treating a good friend like trash in the past. He rang in regards to vacancies available at the call centre where I was previously employed which he so much snorted at before and to tease me about not inviting him to my wedding.

*bleurghhhh* The nerve.

An ex-colleague did the same thing. Dropped many hints so that I'd actually agree for her to come out of guilt, when she was the one who screwed things up between us.

But I didn't bother. Ignorance is bliss.

Do I have to justify who I invite to my big day?

Doing up wedding invites is a nightmare, you know. And a good way to rectify the significance of relationships in your social circle (or lack of).

At first it teared me up when Dictator Wedding Planner slash Mom insisted that I only invite a handful of friends to me nuptials. I've imagined my wedding to be an open-house karaoke joget lambak casual affair where ALL my friends can come and go as they please or stay as long as they want; catching up with each other, marvel at the fishpond we have and hoping that no little kids jump into it, the bride and groom hanging out and sharing some laughs too or maybe having a go at Search's "Isabella" on the jukebox. That's how it should be anyway, get people together to celebrate the glorious day with you in simplicity.

It's true when people say it isn't your wedding but it's your parents' because they paid for it.I didn't even get the chance to sort out the invitation cards until Mom and Pops were finished with their guestlist.

Maybe my folks are being unrealistic and mean but but maybe they are right in some ways. Mom, in consolation of her ultimatum, "You can't expect to ask everyone you've known in your lifetime to come. Have they really been your good friends?"

Hmmm. A point to ponder.

Does this person know me as an individual?
Was there a milestone that we've shared?
Were they there when I shed tears of happiness and sadness?

~On a more sentimental note~

Didn't we walk home from the high school prom looking like streetwalkers in our dresses?

Didn't we take awful black and white photos of ourselves in dresses and knives *gothic la konon*?
Didn't we miss the bus to KL and 7 of us cram up in a Kancil from Melaka?

Didn't you rush me to the gynae and paid for it when you thought I was pregnant?

Didn't we colour our hair red, blue and yellow all in a month?

Weren't we eating our depression away at Burger King after some Petaling Street apek called us "four fat girls"?
Weren't we caught at some dodgy beach disco called Coco Jam in Langkawi and some tranny queen was waving for no reason on the podium?

Didn't we go to Sg Congkak and realized our street savvy does not work in the jungle?

Didn't we hang so much at that buruh kontrak canteen to do our sketches?

Didn't you guys help me push my car at 3 am in the morning when it stalled?
Didn't we double as medics when we had to send some suicidal psycho to Hospital Putrajaya?

Didn't we take in Cik Bee and Waklem as resident cats of hostel room 2013?

Didn't we get yelled at by that cop from Precinct 9 for making so much noise?

Remember Tioman Beauty Beach Resort and that crazy monkey?

Weren't we held up at a rave party and got shackled together by the cuffs?

Weren't we so hung up on clubbing that we rented a car from the hostel every week and lied to our moms/dads/brothers/sisters that we had spring cleaning back at campus plus you guys had to sneak me out in my kaftan?

Weren't you there when we made friends with Saki the dishy innkeeper at Triangle Lodge?

Didn't we send that idiot entry video to Amazing Race Asia and not get picked? :))

Weren't we stargazing on Permai Beach with Amir Yussoff and shirtless men in bongos at the background?

Didn't we nail Europa together?

Were you around to witness the epitome of whore-anus attention seeking?

Are you an essential element in `The Power of Phwoar!'?

*sniff*

Emotional pulak tetiba. Well, you know who you are.

I am just glad you are.

Do come and let this go down as "most memorable" for us.

Someone Up There Loves Me

2007-05-14T17:15:00.000+08:00

I'm taking a moment to reflect on God's good graces.

I've had it easy in life. I am actually gorgeous despite my plus-ness, I realized *ha!*. I did very well in school. My parents tolerated my piercings, rebellion with no apparent cause and robust outlook on life without pressuring me to become like other kids for the society to accept us. I was given the most wonderful opportunities to travel in good health. There people who look up to me for advice or inspiration.

Most things I touch turn to gold.

Yes, there were setbacks - disappointing outcomes from bad decisions I've made. Depression can rear a very ugly head. On and off, I'd have these phases of rage within me to the point where I'd be angry at Him. Like that time I quit The Company where everything went topsy turvy and I had a very difficult time coping. My unstable mind blamed it all on divine intervention. On how He is drowning me.

Now I feel so ashamed of myself for denying consequences of my own actions.

Ungrateful bastard.

Today I realize all prayers I demanded Him to look into are being answered.

The Company didn't ask for a single cent from the scholarship agreement I breached by leaving them. But let's not speak to soon.

My phone has been ringing off the hook. The same people are begging me to help out with freelance copywriting, which gave a smug me THE chance to turn them down. That will teach them. There are new contacts too, but I had to push them to someone who writes better. I've come to terms that I have no talent and no time.

Estranged family ties are mended, and stronger.

I've lost 30 pounds from all that unnecessary whining last year.

I have the best job in the world and will be promoted once I am confirmed in July with a teeny payraise that would give good footing to the upcoming marriage.

For some reason the Maybank ASB loan I regretted taking two years back will be reimbursing a large sum that I desperately need for the wedding, monthly premium payment reviewed on top of that.

I am getting married to a man who loves me. Who will stand by me through thick and thin. Who thought I was the best when no one didn't. Who would hold my hair back when I'd throw up. Who would take the trouble to send me teddy bears and design craft DIY cards himself for me whenever I am sad.

Moral of story for me: Constantly remember and appreciate. HE is always there, working in mysterious ways.

A Reban to Remember

2007-05-01T13:19:00.000+08:00

beautiful cupcakes for the hen done by the one and only lovesdesserts

I HAD A BLASTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cops are on to us so I shouldn't go into too much detail about the little hen night I had, but for sure I am touched by "classmates" who took the trouble to deck themselves in plaids, pinafores, prefect blazers, P.E outfits and co-curricular uniforms for the cheeky `Back to School' theme.

It was like I ran a TGIF branch for one night.

They came for the food and stayed for the fun.

No, wait -

they came for the booze and paid for the strippers.

My girls even got a bargain : two for the price of one. You naughty, naughty sluts!

Before uncovering their wicked scheme I was already coming to terms with the whole thing being a slumberish, kid-friendly, musical chairey, dressup get-together at midnight. But nooooo, you guys had to spring (er, pun intended) them on me.

The pseudo-authority ambush turned (though midway) tease was a cringey yet delightful surprise!

The hen learnt a valuable lesson.

A million gazillion bazillion thanks to you, ALL of you who made my singlehood farewell happen and ensured that it was an unforgettable one.

Hope you guys enjoyed yourself like I did ;)

I have 30 days left. ~~There's still time to throw another one.~~

The Consumer Decision Process

2007-04-26T11:38:00.000+08:00

No matter how broke a woman is she will find reasons to spend. I've secured a party place for my bachelorette's and other party accessories with plastic.

My credit card has never worked harder.

Other half's back and I've never been happier. Learnt that En Fiancee's defied any humanly principles he had and recently used a credit card of his own (which he had just acquired), acknowledging how addictive it is.

See, Bee. It's an epidemic, no?

Just don't go buying more RAMs or notebook fans on your upcoming trip to Johore ok sayang. At least one of us should be the reasonable consumer.

And save for our honeymoon in August ;)

In lieu of hen, I'd like to extend my warmest thank yous to my friends who are willing to potluck the session as well shed their macho exteriors for a night of slutty schoolgirls, games, ~~strippers~~ to celebrate the last days of my singledom.

.."kau rasa Professor ada tak size aku?"

.."I've been asking around for Sri Aman signature socks!"

.."is harajuku ok?"

.."I'm soooooo coming as Cikgu PJK."

.."nok, Love It dekat Ikano tu takde baju marching band la. Macamana?"

.."aku datang pakai baju pengawas SBP ok?"

You guys are the best. Which explains why our friendships are enduring.

Amidst the likes of Snap and C&C Music Factory that will be audible during the party, I will have a banner this Saturday that will read :

Gwenwarts School of Hot

Class of `07

"To Hot if Not Hottest"

PS: I don't do Michael Learns To Rock no matter how dodgy the early 90s was.

Hormonal

2007-04-20T12:15:00.000+08:00

My baby has gone for a business trip. It feels weird to deny that you're missing someone.

Badly.

It grows on you.

Our DIY wedding video montage is almost done. I haven't even sat through the whole thing but I'm feeling sentimental and teary already. I've underestimated En Fiancee's POV- He's a brill director of photog.

We are getting hitched in 40 days (and we still haven't found a video guy)!

~never in my life have I felt more sure~

Honestly, I am not caring if I lost weight enough for my ceremonial dresses anymore. I feel good about myself and us, all that matters.

*excitement*

The initial bachelorette cum two birthday parties combo thing is not working out since everyone's schedules are clashing. My calendar's have had too many notches on them already. My students' exams, invigilating, ISO, lecturer trainings, wedding prep meets with Yang Berbahagia Mom and no-nonsense Aunties..

..list is exhaustive.

I am exhausted.

I've decided to go on with my solo hen plus beloved fruitcakes act. Just want to get it out of the way before May workload eats on my toes.

Got a supersweet deal on an apartment and set the theme as "Back To School".

*MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This" echoes*

Goofing around with a bunch of working adults in ties and skirts is hell of a sight.

I am so used to coordinating stuff that I'm overwhelming my co-organizers. I'll try to not be as involved as possible but if I can't help it, I hope you guys don't mind :).

I'm saddened and miffed that I can't share it with The Steward. He's leaving sooner than I thought.

Damn you, Etihad!

Let's hijack his maiden voyage to Abu Dhabi and dress him up in plaids.

The Week of Weird

2007-04-13T15:23:00.001+08:00

I suppose it probably had something to do with the Rombongan Tontonlah Filem Seram Melayu Sekiranya Anda Tidak Mampu Ke Konsert Kanye West last Sunday after a tough weekend at campus (and by campus I mean my Masters degree programme, not the Chegu job).

Jangan Pandang Belakang was okay if someone like me were to watch it through the hole of her handbag's zipper. Other than the fact that the cast minus Ruminah Sidek (A++) were as per other Metrowealth movies' kayu acting, it was scary as hell.

On with the week's Twilight Zone incidents.

I never wake up past 9 unless I intended to or my phone died on me because I have one superbly annoying alarmtone that could definitely wake the neighbours. And the neighbours' neighbours. I woke up at 930 am on Tuesday. What the-?My battery was full. The alarm was activated.

Why didn't I hear it?

At work, I chatted with a female student who admitted feeling comfortable with my classes due to the fact that we were the same age (wah muda ke aku?). Suddenly. There was a 30-second pause that broke when we looked at each other and said, "Have we met?" , simultaneously.

I didn't know what drove both of us to do that. It just happened.

We discovered that we knew a mutual friend and hungout eons ago.

The best thing was, we recognized each other from our brow piercing scars.

Even weirder -

When I am teaching, I'd usually walk about the stage/teacher's podium whacamacallit and then probably stand at one place for about a few minutes before I wander about again. Mid-lesson I looked at my feet and realized that I was standing in HUGEASS puddle of water. The mystery was that when I came in, everything was alright.

The water wasn't flowing from a specific source. Nor were there liquid dripping off the ceiling. All my students were dry. The aqua I stepped on made up a perfect circle.

Why?

Some pervert called me last night and claimed that I "chatted" with him late last year. Even got my name spelled and pronounced right. Which was bollocks since IRC is so 1996 to me, I was working on shifts and only used the computer twice a month to solely check my mails. After fierce interrogation (from En Fiancee) , it appeared that a third party did the "chatting" for me and gave away my phone number to scum.

p.i.e.c.e.o.f.s.h.i.t.w.h.o.e.v.e.r.y.o.u.m.i.g.h.t.b.e.

Freak week, TGIF.

We Are Patriotic After All

2007-03-30T15:52:00.000+08:00

A good friend of mine throws fantastic parties; one after another. Some subdued, some flashy and for her birthday this year it's absolutely OVER THE TOP.

Considering her stature as respected mentor at her company serving rude/prude/lewd Brit customers day after day after daylight savings and screaming intentions to leave the all to cock place, her birthday theme for 2007 is decided as God Save The Queen.

Yours truly was in charge of deco. I thought it would be easy peasy at first, but

did you know what mighty kerfuffle it was looking for a bloody Unionjack?!

Well, I didn't really look. It was more like calling around for a bloody Unionjack.

Considering my newfound administrator cum Chegu role at That College that required my bum to stick permanently to the swivel chair I narrowed down my searches via telephone.

~bless the Internet and 103~

All the party shops and stationery outlets could come up with was the Jalur Gemilang, Wilayah and Negeri Sembilan flags.

Seriously, Negeri Sembilan.

In the end The Steward saved the day. He said he has never bothered to look for a UJ on his many, many trips to London. And he's never actually seen one sold in souvenir stores.

Luckily he was reminded about the Brit Bash before leaving for his last every voyage with MAS. He came back with the damned Great Britain thingy-ma-bob which he found...

...in Brisbane, Australia.

The Diary of Cikgu Bedah

2007-03-26T15:18:00.000+08:00

My baby weeks at That College is doing fine. I believe this is the only job I've ever had that required superduperheavy research and paperwork on the first day itself. The workload is very different for me

and

truthfully, is quite sh..ock..ing.

*inhales*

On a more positive note, I am quite glad that my long-tucked away busy sotong arms can come out to play once again. I almost have nothing do now that everything's prepared with my high level of efficiency as per before at The Company (insert annoying smug look and cocked eyebrow here).

I am petrified at the thought of meeting my future students albeit I can't wait to get to know slash torment them.

And will I be a inspiring and effective teacher?

My colleagues are nice people and most of them are as young as I am. Though I am starting to believe that my mother could have probably been a Xerox machine in her previous life. I've gotten that where-have-I-seen-you-before thingie a gazillion trillion times and still it continues to annoy me . Am not keen at the fact that I always look like someone else. It just verifies the fact that my face too freakingly common. Here at That College, six people have come up to me already either calling me Eliza or asking whether I am related to her.

WHO THE EFF; is ELIZA??!

For the love of God, I hope she is hot. I will hate to be compared to some turd-looking bastard and accepting harsh reality that I really do look like turd, as always.

Commercial Break: Sugar Rush!

2007-03-22T15:42:00.000+08:00

I know I've got one hell of a sweet tooth.

I don't know about you, but if you loOOOoove your cake like Marjorie Dawes OR if you're a Nicole Richie with hypoglycemia, you'll find your cure at:

http://lovesdesserts.blogspot.com/

Sweet!

A Delayed Mini Review of "300"

2007-03-21T15:52:00.000+08:00

Here's a movie I watched two weeks ago, loved to bits but totally forgot to rave about.

I'm just weirded. How does a fag like this,

transform into a barbarian and get to walk around half naked in leather undies and a ridiculous red cape whilst also given the opportunity chop off other people's balls with no remorse like this:

Yes, this is the same person as the above

I shall not go into details about the Iranian government lashing out on the diabolical representation of Xerxes and the Kingdom of The World (politics is not my cuppa green tea frappo) in this feature film.

Hollywood-wise though : it is the darkest, sexiest, most tastefully gruesome adaptation from a graphic novel I have ever seen in many years.

Watching it again is gonna hurt.

Random Notes

2007-03-16T23:16:00.000+08:00

On A Fortnight Inside The Belly Of The Beast

The tingling sensation of chic, urban New York-ish human traffic at Masjid Jamek didn't change the fact that I despise taking the A.M. train very much.

It's depressing to the point when one chugs its way to the station and towards you at full speed you'd want to walk onto the tracks on purpose.

My mild agoraphobia just aggravated the tension. Every morning circa 8.30, I would have to whip out the "nothing to do but stare at strangers and analyze them to kill time" routine to take the headache away:

why is that laptop pink?-those shoes are hot!-how much does he earn?-fashion police!-you people get the fuck off the caboose already!-hey I actually have a mole there-can someone bloody duct tape that brat's mouth?!..

..by the time I get into the office my brain is tired of talking to myself.

I have a favourite spot right next to the sliding doors, leaned against the seat railings in fear of trampling makciks or getting rubbed up by peculiarly erect penises at rush hour. It's also fascinating that I always seem to get on the same train home without fail -which would be the one with the Guardian Pharmacy advert on it .

I thank God that He's decided I should teach instead and that my new unit at The Bank accepts 24-hour resignation notices from probationary staff; no questions asked.

Even so, I feel that I will miss the relief of escaping psychopathic Putra LRT mobs as well as the enjoyment of strolling through the touristy (and not to mention much Visit Malaysia 2007 revamped) Central Market to my (now former) office.

This mural next to the Gajah-Gajah Gallery gets me spirits going everyday (well at least for two whole weeks). I don't know why.

It says "Dilarang Melarang"

On Being A Lecturer

My parents have definitely lost interest in asking, " So what do you want to be now that you're all grown up?" at the rate I am going.

Teaching is the last thing I've ever dreamed of . Honestly, I suck at speaking in public. I don't get nervous. I just sound like a friggin' tractor when I try to make myself heard.

Then again I couldn't resist the idea of waking up at 8.30 am in the morning and rolling off the bed though-aaaaaalllll the way to work.

So screw what people have to say about my dwindling career path. Because my new office will be less than 500m away from where I live.

That College called me after seven months of putting my resume on KIV and on my second day of transfer to The Bank's HQ. They must have been really desperate. They didn't even notice that I got a C for Photography which I am most likely to `lecture'.

What the heck, flexi hours to complete my Master's as per schedule and making spoilt brats squirm?

Priceless.

On Getting Married

you can't push it underground
you can't stop screaming it out
- Muse, Time Is Running Out

The Fiancee and I are getting restless. Two and a half months to go to D-Day.

I am pretending I am alright. But I am worried sick.

Will I be a good wife? I can't cook for nuts.

Anyway, thank you Fiancee for reassuring time and again you'd take care of me.

Which I know you would :)

I haven't touched on hen night plans yet. Someone suggested a male stripper, but I don't think I'll need one considering the amount of gay friends I have who can sing and dance and twirl and take their clothes off.

So why need another one?

I don't have enough kink in me anyway so I'd rather curl up on the couch with Will Ferrell movies and maybe some cho dai dee.

My mum, if she weren't so anal and picky I would recommend her as brilliant wedding planner. It's just that her competing with the neighbour down the road's multi-million ringgit wedding is eating at my arse.

A few weeks ago I told her I was going to take my songket dress to a seamstress in DU for beading and it would cost roughly about RM 380. Mum's ISO par drove her berserk so she took the dress without me knowing and sent it to one of her badminton gang who does beading too. Mum insisted that it would be much cheaper than the price I initially was quoted.

When it was done, she passed the end product to me.Gorgeous beadwork, but nothing I haven't seen before.

I stared at her in the eye.

" How much did it cost?"

She walked away and said quietly, "MYR 1200. I'm SO sorry."

I hope my photographer will accept credit cards.

On Being Straight

The Fiancee insists that I am a closet bisexual now that I've confessed I love checking out beautiful women.

Hey, it's just the nature of female primates to compare/admire pretty things.

I justify what is it about them that I don't have and another thing is to be proud to share the same chromosomes of these magnificent creatures.

And sometimes wish that I could be the man that could jump on them.

That's all.

Talk about magnificent, ANTM 8 is out. This cycle is pretty subdued. German-African Jael is the only element of fire this season because she is sizzling hawt.

Spread Your Wings and Prepare to Fly (Higher)

2007-02-13T15:46:00.000+08:00

One of my BFFs The Steward went through a rough few months analyzing the death of his father, becoming mother hen to his own mum and siblings after, falling out from a four-year relationship impacted from that responsibility and honouring the value of true friends who really understood the cycle.

I'm sad but ecstatic and proud at the same time; learning that he got that job in Abu Dhabi. Although he will be leaving everything behind, he can start anew now.

Congratulations, dear. Just make sure you can come to my wedding, y'hear??

~you are beautiful, no matter what they say~

Especially if ticket subsidy for friends is applicable on the remuneration package.

We will miss you !!!

*tear*

Revelation

2007-02-06T14:52:00.000+08:00

Have been out of touch. Been busy running around attending interviews and thank heavens for that one job offer otherwise I'd kill myself in trauma of outrageous KL parking rates. Same shit, same company-only that I'll be commuting with the LRT more often and the pay is a little bigger. I'm glad with this move my CV won't look too inconsistent since it's kinda like transferring to another department despite coming from an outsourcing subsidiary.

My view at the office will now be the murky banks of Sungai Kelang. No more Cyberjaya monkeys or Singapore Fried Beehoon at Padi.

My colleagues were saddened by this news. In truth, I am too. I've grown very attached to them considering the 12-hour shifts pains we've all endured together. The most distraught one of all in view of my departure was of course CLYBFAWB (refer to previous entry).

Again, the following paragraphs will be about her.

When she heard I was moving out, her usual motormouth was disengaged and she refused to talk to me. The next day she went on MC.

She has never gone sick throughout her tenure, and now her `fever' is all because of me. And that is not at all a perasantan statement because only a week before that, the freakiest thing happened.

The office's team getaway to PD (of all places) was brilliant except that CLYBFAWB a.k.a Miss-I-Can-Hold-My-Liquor went absolutely cuckoo after the boys fixed her 3 glasses of Black Label. She was so hammered that all of a sudden she put on a strong American accent and hysterically yelled that she didn't know anybody around her, telling everyone to get the hell out of her face. The weirder thing was she kept calling me Susan and saying stuff like, " Where's the ferry to Staten Island?? We're gonna be late for work, Susie! Dominic is going to kill us!"

Apparently Black Label had successfully transported CLYBFAWB to New York where she was working as a barmaid and Susan is her best friend who strips for a living.

*rolling eyes*. Advertisers take note, though.

At first we thought she was just horsing around but the I Heart NY drama went on for about 3 hours and her face started to become as pale as a ghost. Her hair became an afro mess and in the stupor she managed to take off her bra because she said "it's a hot Manhattan summer". Luckily we managed to talk her out of removing her top as well.

Her erratic behaviour frightened the girls and they made me look after Cik Barmaid. Sigh. I had to sit through her aborigine babblings; playing Susan The Stripper who rents an apartment in Brooklyn, takes Spanish classes after work and loves shoes at Payless.

There was one point where she looked at me with her Zarina Zainuddin contact-lensed glazed eyes and said, " You know Susie, when I was back in KL I have this friend called Gwendolyn (isn't that the sweetest name?), we work together. When it's 2-3am at the office and she's feeling really sleepy, her big eyes will become soooooooooo tiny..."

I chuckled to myself . Freak on a stick, she's bitching about me, to me.

" ....and she's so freakin' adorable. You know what? I have a secret. I'll tell you but don't tell anyone else okay. Promise me?"

"Okay, promise," I did my Scouts honour, trying not to laugh out of my ass.

"I am in LOVE with her!" CLYBFAWB blurted, raising her index finger to her lips and making the SSSSHHHH sound.

Then she passed out.

I stopped chuckling and almost choked.

What Is Wrong With This Picca?

2007-01-24T13:59:00.000+08:00

I couldn't sleep last night. I was tossing up till 2am when I got a text forward on me cell.

It was from Compulsive Liar Yet Best Friend At Work Bienda.

"Happy Best Buddies Day!!". Sheesh. Must I be reminded?

My tummy growled. I suddenly thought of Filet-o-Fish.

I replied to her.

" Wot are u doing? Wud u like 2 grab a burger at d drive-thru? Can't sleep!"
" M on my way home frm NY. M on da plane."

EH?!

" What the- when did u go? Tot u were workin til Sat?"
" My dad's flight. Wz bord so joind im on Sunday morning. otw home now, all I c is black oceans. Cu at work!"

I was told that CLYBFAWB's dad's a pilot *if that's even true*. But would it be logical for her to spend her entire weekend in an aircraft? It would take her 16 hours to transit at Stockholm and another 8 to Newark. At least a full day of checking into her dad's accomodation in town. +2 days fro KUL.

And she says she's clocking in for our shift on Wednesday, 5pm.

Was this all a huge big nincompoop excuse to not sound uncool because CLYBFAWB stays in USJ Alcatraz and can't sneak off in the wee hours to have some fries with me?

Tell me if I have the right to doubt or that I am just being some nosey paranoid dildo.

Speaking of flights, AirAsia is a slag. I'd rather blow a fortune here.

Project Nikah Kahwin Pt. IV

2007-01-22T14:16:00.000+08:00

I recently attended the much revered kursus perkahwinan at Zura's Akademik in Bangsar. First thing I thought was, " Isn't it supposed to be spelled `Akademi' ?". But nevermind that. I had heard a lot about it, namely the part where celebs like AC Mizal and Sofea Jane turned to this school for wedded bliss yonks ago.

With all the ads we've read in Pengantin magazine and rave reviews from friends' friends, The Fiancee and I showed up at musty Kompleks Niaga Utama building for our share last week, hoping for the same star treatment.

My foot.

Despite coming one hour earlier than anybody else and that The Fiancee braved the mad rush to get queue stubs # 1 & 2 for both of us (my hero!), the alleged `system' still got us standing at the back of the line.

Goulash would have looked more attractive compared to the catering provided whilst air-conditioning in the hall was meant for Eskimos.

The Only Gay In The Village was right. Marriage is a scam. We realized all storelots surrounding the seminar hall belonged to the scheming father-son Zura Akademik proprietors. Bridal boutiques, card galleries, spas, photo studios. In short, marketing strategy in full throttle.

Dodgy but smart sonofabitches.

I, for one, was almost lured into a RM 1.40 per card deal which I could definitely get much cheaper anywhere outside that radius. Good thing The Fiancee was in time to slap me around with a large trout.

Other than one senile Jennifer Aniston fan, Ustaz Ramlee Endot whose antics got me laughing 3 hours non-stop; the rest of the speakers were snoozers, not to mention perverts who liked to joke about nipples and sperm. But what The Fiancee and I really appreciated was the detailed low down on what it takes to get registered which even led to roleplays to get bums like us to understand how it works. It's a looooooooooooong-winded process, HIV tests and painstaking imam jurunikah appointment whatnots included.

Which goes to prove that if you love someone, you'd go to great lengths to have him/her.

There are rumours that starting from May 2007, wedding courses will be extended to a 5-day thingamajig.

Thank God I'm done with it!

You can go even if you don't have any wedding plans/fiancee/lover/partner/whatsoever you know. Saves you the hassle of having to do it under pressure in the future.

On with other progresses, I had a riff with Mom about guests. Who's the one getting married here, really? I don't know 3/4 of names on that list and I had to chop off some of my good acquaintances to make room for strangers. If we don't work it out my social life would be ruined forever!

It would have been so much easier to have the kenduri at home as I had suggested over and over again. But no, someone had things to prove and those points are way beyond our means.

Regardless, we agreed on designing our own pelamin with a carpenter uncle's expertise. I'm not sure how good he is with pelamins because the last handiwork of his that I saw was the cat cage a'la cottage he did for Mom which was brill.

I hope my dais does not come with a scratching post.

I am short of two wedding dresses, pending Mom's shopping spree in Jakarta commencing tomorrow. Dyva got me some material on her last visit there which was absolutely divine, but unfortunately it was 2 metres short of a bottom. Mom is bent on going back to the exact shops where Dyva bought it to make sure it's a complete set.

The Fiancee and I are starting to feel the pinch of our depleting financial resources *hair falls at a more aggresive rate* so we've switched to a more amature photographer. Not too shabby for a beginner. And we'd get two custom albums for half the price!

I'd like to highlight to brides-to-be and other shopping nutcases that there's a lady called Suhara who sells antique Malay dangly accesories to go with songket, batik and wedding dresses at the Sunday Mont Kiara flea market. Her stall's opposite McD; precious, one-of-a-kind trinkets ranging from RM 160 to RM 250. She has got the prettiest vintage jewelry too. I'd recommend it to you girls who can afford or carry off heavy, PGL-esque decoratives on your big day or any other special occasion. A head's up though, do try to look a million dollars on a visit to Suhara's. A 6-foot Anggun Cinta Sasmi-lookalike part-time model would definitely make you unworthy of even Princess Leia's bagels.

As for me, Mydin's got the cheaper alternative of rantai tingkat or whatchamacallithingamajigs. Not as exclusive, but it's good enough for me. And there are only Bangladeshi retail assistants to make me feel super.

I don't know what they're saying about diamonds, but Mydin is forever.

I Thought Singaporeans Were Kiasu

2007-01-10T13:06:00.000+08:00

It's that time of the year again. An age where people from all walks of life come together through some common understanding despite the fact that they can't even stand each other's arses.

Lawyers, mat despatchs, engineers, gym instructors, doctors, clerks, janitors and other Internet literate credit card-owning bastards alike would leave their egos behind for one purpose only.

Air Asia's 1,000,000 free tickets giveaway.

As insignificant as it may sound, such calamity could earn one bragging rights. Last year due to this annual online event and camping in front of the PC, I travelled to Jakarta paying only RM 120 and to Kuching for RM 60 in taxes (obviously the catch).

At the moment my budget permits only one holiday which would 100% definitely be The Honeymoon.

Bali or Bandung would be just sexful.

Of course, the race for seats is murder. Expect errors, late itineraries, server problems and long page loadings.

If you are willing to persevere, trust me you shall reap the smug fruits of your labour.

Happy New Year

2006-12-31T19:48:00.000+08:00

Time is a jealous bastard. I know that everytime I look in the mirror and spot new, dark rings under my eyes.

Makes me feel like an old willow tree.

I have had a turbulent love-hate relationship with 2006.

It had been great fun while it lasted. There were many memorable moments of going places, getting to know faces, doing well in school and sliding that diamond ring on my finger.

There would be times when my sensible Libra scales would tip over and I'd be a suicidal mess. I'll try to leave all of that behind and have a laugh at all that drama.

I am going to usher in another day tomorrow.

To a better 2007.

'Tis The Season to Visit Panel Clinics

2006-12-28T14:27:00.000+08:00

Officer down. Or something like that.

God sure has the tendency to strike me with the weirdest diseases.

Last month it was laryngitis. Then early December came urine infection. Besides setting my bladder on fire, dehydration has also been the cause of mumps, my latest ailment. I can't sleep, I can't turn my head without feeling lumps rise up my throat nor can I look into the mirror without automatically mouthing the word blimp at the sight of my own miserable roadkill expression.

The thing with me is that the unmistakable yet undiagnosed ADD I have makes me forget that I am sick and life goes on as long as I can get out of bed. Confined to my home only during the first few days of the swelling, I've been to work (to prove to me bosses that I ain't fibbing), shopping, watching The Fiancee's studio shootings, to the movies, hanging out like there's no tomorrow despite looking like a puffed up, dead raccoon.

It slipped my mind that mumps; being an aerial infection - are contagious.

I've been spreading the joy.

So if you are anywhere in the Damansara vicinity and you feel kinda trickly under your jaw, Gwendolyn has just given you an MC.

Project Nikah Kahwin Pt.III

2006-12-19T18:04:00.000+08:00

I've been around for the past week getting on with what's left of my leave for this quarter. Even so I hadn't even enough time to think, I think.

I thought it was going to be a lot of vegetating on the couch with reruns of Seinfeld but I have been a busy rabbit.

Been scouring high and low for best wedding bargains. The year end sale drove me nuts. Spent a small fortune, me and my other half. The Fiancee got me the Stila makeup kit I wanted (smudge pot and all, wee!). It's amazing that no matter where you go you'd admit that Vincci shoes and handbags are always value for money. I tried my best (with gritted teeth) not to get any any for my hantaran though, knowing that my mother would 100% snort at the brand's affordable everyday-ness.I would not mind at all settling for such fine shopping trophies actually but you see, nowadays wedding gifts are not about formality, it's about showing off; especially when it comes to the whispering womenfolk. We managed a special edition Tom Abang Saufi for Eclipse pumps and clutch, which still could get us about 6 pairs of shoes if I stuck to my original plan.

We got the rings sorted out too at Johnny's in Subang. The whole incident was supposed to be all serious and intense, you know; you're choosing diamonds that you'd probably end up wearing till you rot the earth-that is, if you don't get divorced first. It kinda helped that Johnny was cross-eyed and that his nostril hair was sticking out. We relaxed and got our blings for a good price without much argument considering his kind and efficient manner. And amusing optical defect.

My makeup artist is friendly. We haven't met yet, only brief teleconversations. He/She likes to call me "awak". Cik Sabrinams, a friend who is getting married in March recommended her/him. Apparently she/he is known by a female name, T*ja and had done work for local mags including Nov 2006's Wanita with Sazzy Falak on it. When he/she texted me the details for me to deposit a 10% advance:

"My acc no is 1*************. Mohd Khairi b. *****." Thehe. Cute.

About the dresses I'm supposed to wear on the big day(s), some expensive and not to mention bitch tailor called Susan in SS2 yelled at me for insisting on my own designs,which was absolutely weird. Isn't compliance the thing seamstresses live by? She doesn't expect me to walk around in her ridiculous ruffles on my wedding day does she? I took back from her all my material (Susan threw it out her sliding door without a word to me) and sent my garb to Aunty Yoke Lan in Sri Damansara instead. She is humble and nice even if big shot Mak Datins frequent her with the reasonable rates she was charging. If my dress turns out hot, I'm going to rub the sequins all over Susan's nose till she chokes on her own sinus and decides to end her misery by decapitating herself via slamming the sliding door over and over again on her neck.

That's what I'm going to do.

We've decided I'd design our card. Nothing too flashy, it's just that I hate letting other people do what I can and spent 5 years in uni studying for. Plus I hate the fonts of wedding invites nowadays. What's up with Monotype Corsiva and what the hell is so special about it? I'm a Trajan Pro person. I go for Cygnet Round if I ever feel romantic. I went to Sunflower Designs to check out the scene, and found that they are absolute rip-offs. Do not, I repeat, do not order cards at Sunflower-ever. They charge RM 4000 for 1000 pieces, whereas I could get quarter the price at Medan Mara.

And speaking of Medan Mara opposite Pertama Complex, it's a haven of choice like Jalan TAR and Masjid India. Everything I want can absolutely be found there. They are like mini Semua House with superb PR skills (except for the lazy kakaks in the printing shop on the ground floor). Wedding courses, photography, videography, card printing, wedding dais, wedding decor arrangement, wedding tailors, wedding whatever.

I'm going to dedicate the rest of my bachelor weekends hanging out at these places. And Nilai 3. Ha!

6 months and counting..

What Am I, Six?

2006-12-04T13:00:00.000+08:00

Bitch is getting on my nerves again.

I got past that overwhelming I Am A Nicotine Dependant Badass Who Listens To Backstreet Boys bullshit and in fact have grown fond of her kindness.

At least her attention-seeking nature does not mind fetching me drinks every other hour from the Milo machine and offering me expensive cigarettes. Heh. And most importantly she has become my young Aunt Thelma whenever `shitty' becomes my middle name.

I even miss her motormouth when she's on leave.

But a-hah.

Something had to go wrong again somewhere. Recently she had confided to me that she had a crush on one of our team coaches and in fact told him how she really felt. Being the normal sensible and tasteful Libra that he is, of course he said, " Thank you I am flattered but I'll KIV that." Smart boy.

I think the rejection got to her and she decided to pick up the pieces of that shattered pride by telling me that she's perfectly fine. Apparently there is a gorgeous blue-eyed Scandinavian man who has been in love with her for the past seven years (apparently since she was in diapers). Although she says she doesn't have feelings for him at all, she'll give him a try now because he drives a two-door Benz and was promoted to JW Marriot hotel manager.

The boy is 20. You do the math.

" At least he's rich and won't KIV me," she said like the fox and the sour grapes, her eyes darted at Libra Team Coach who was passing by in his torn jeans and century-old Pearl Jam t-shirt; hair uncombed.

Skeptical Me naturally wanted to quiz this new statement from her, so I casually asked:

"Which part of Scandinavia is he from?"
There was a long pause before she managed a defensive "Scandinavialah!"
"I mean which country? Norway? Sweden? Denmark?Iceland? Finland?"
"Scandinavia is a country itself la dumdum. I should know, " she laughed. Nervously.

I managed a wide smile, as if I was really that stupid. Imagine my smugness. Yes, you should know if you really were good friends with Viking Stud and you read encyclopedias in nursery school like me. But you're not and you stole other kids' lunches.

100 points for Skeptical Me.

The fibs got worse. In light of my team leader and one other exec leaving for other companies , Cik Bienda came up with another publicity stunt pronto. She doesn't learn, does she?

"Gwen, I got another job. I may be leaving too, " oh the drama on that face.
"Oh dear, " my best supporting actress mode on , "Don't leave us! Which company is this?"
"MAS."
"Oh?" my eyebrows darted, recalling that interview I went to.
"Yea, I know I got that Etihad job before but that's just clerical work and it pays little," (phew) but didn't she tell me way earlier that it was flight attendant?
"Cabin Crew?" I needed clarification.
"No, I'm going to be a pilot. I start 5th January but I don't want to go," she stared at me, expecting sympathy or encouragement.

I stared back, mainly because of the despicable lie she had just told me. For all I know, she had never done add maths in her life, majored in literature and had horrible vision 4.25 vision.

Skeptical Me experimented, "How long's the training?" Two years?

"Three weeks."

Lying to impress will haunt you forever. Research is key, kiddo.

Project Nikah Kahwin Pt.II

2006-11-30T14:28:00.000+08:00

Getting married is fun. I met up with some photographers, round-the-robin style. It's nice that for once it is I that get to do the rejecting.

I make sure they drag three to four of their 2-3kg portfolio albums along at least and explain their operations with a very straight, serious facial expression on me.

You see, 60% of these `photojournalists' are MMU alumni. So am I. I shortlisted photogs with superb editing flair because I grew up on Photoshop. If I can actually take better pictures and create better effects than they, then consider application unsuccessful.

Hah!

I don't mind if my wedding dress is cheaper than my mas kahwin as long as my nikah and sanding photos are magazine spread quality. Unfortunately after quite some best-price scouring I realized can't possibly afford my ex-faculty's up and coming lensmen as much as I try to keep it an MMU affair.

Then two days ago a young lad of about 24 met up with me and showed me his work. He has nothing to do with MMU whatsoever and was making good business. His quotation was slightly lower than most in consideration of budget weddings. Excellent work, good PR and he even gave The Fiancee and I a souvenir pen each.

About hiring him, I'm halfway there because of his great eye. The Fiancee especially liked his friendliness and his effort to make us feel at ease. After that meeting I told Cik Banos and Milleyez about him and they were doubtful at the rates he was charging.

At first.

"Still mahal juga ye, " says Milleyez.

"Cuba la tanya kawan-kawan MMU kita yang lain. Boleh dapat diskaun," says Banos.

"Hensem tak?" Milleyez is curious.

"Wuish," I paused for effect, "Taste okay. Comel je. Putih-putih gebu."

They looked at each other for a split second.

" Okay kensel kawan-kawan MMU dan ambik budak 24 tahun ittew!" they exclaimed in unison.

The Short and Tall of the Aviation Industry

2006-11-27T15:21:00.000+08:00

In the airline business,as I and The Only Gay In The Village found out recently; flying or no flying you have to be at least 157cm tall.

There was a Customer Relationship Executive opening at MAS the other day which remuneration per annum was at least up to RM 54k+++. Swissroll on the floor going to school by bus, that's a lot of money! It was almost as if you are applying for a flight attendant job because of the height check and full-length photo requirement; only that it's okay if you were downright ugly. Apparently the recruitment is for our national carrier's pilot SWAT Team-ish project(finally) that will train and develop thick face black heart objection handling specialists to pacify pole-in-arse passengers boarding at KLIA.

I muted my outrage when the lady at the wall o' notches pointed out I am barely 5'3" as I had carelessly thought for years and years. I can't possibly be at borderline. I have records from three medical checkups that confirmed I was 158.5cm!

What a bruise to the ego that is.

As expected, I only managed to make it up to the second round even if I passed the vertical measurements. Now that's what I hate about walk-in interviews because the chances for slackers like me become much slimmer. And that you'll have to sit for your individual assessments with five other hopeful candidates.

One former stewardess from my sessions was really sweet. She is a single mom with two kids to boot and has been jobless for about four months after quitting Emirates to get her kids back from wanker husband. See, the waiting room lets you make a lot of friends. I heard her speak and was awed. Now that is one brainy and intelligent woman with good looks to match. I'm glad she proceeded to the finals (how American Idol can we become) because I thought she deserved it despite chagrin from other rejects who have biased opinions about frivolous and glam cabin crew.

" Really, Gwendolyn I thought you would go further than she," said one dissatisfied candidate to me. "You have it. We think you are better! Hmmmph. That's the thing about stewardesses, they always get their way with good looks."

I'm glad there was some validation, but I begged to differ.I can imagine the alacrity of Ex-Emirates' children who will soon learn that their smart mother will be earning them some good money and having them around more often.

By the way I discovered why frontline staff in the aviation industry must have the 157cm minimum. Have you seen how high the counters are at KLIA?

That's why.

Project Nikah Kahwin

2006-11-20T13:39:00.000+08:00

So it's confirmed. I didn't get that job but enough whining already. I've gotten over the rejection. I just need to continue working on own grey areas.

Time to move on.

My rage has been sedated by literature. I finished 7 paperbacks in a week which comes down to one 300-odd paged book in 3 hours, average of 40 seconds per page. I timed myself. Add on 2 hours when at work should it be interrupted by comfort breaks, lunch and attending routine tasks.

Hmm. Perhaps I can include that in my resume.

Welcome back, worm.

***

The wedding heyho has begun. The only thing that's making blood rush to the head is the financing. So far I managed to press some clients to their wits' end for some paying cheques. It's a good thing I let a weirdo from school sell me an investment insurance scheme way back when. He pitched on ROI that had me at 6%. He's a smart man and my Libran instincts are 72% accurate. In December I'd be richer by a few grand. Thank God for that and ASB loan returns.

My pushy mother is good at planning, I must have inherited that from her. Both of us are a couple of control freaks, I realized. She has already booked the hall, got the hantaran deco, the matching baju melayu and baju kurungs for the family, goodie bags, the works. She has good taste and I trust it. As for me, I am set on my wedding garb, the concept, the guestlist, the band, the makeup and hair and the dais.

I feel very much in my Super Efficient Coordinator element. So does she.

We make a good team. We headbutt sometimes over her unrealistic ideas and my chagrin over the whopping figures I have to fork out but in the end we compromise. I see a simple but classy event ahead.

If only there were reality tv shows on mothers and daughters gearing up for weddings, we would come out tops. I'm sure of it.

I'm designing my own invitation cards but I'm rusty. I hope Illustrator is still my good friend.

I'll keep my progress posted from time to time.

The L Word

2006-11-13T14:50:00.000+08:00

Still no word about that meeting.

I hate to sound so defeated, but

Goodbye Career in Media.

It's either my persuasion and negotiation skills are not at par with my IQ of 123 or that I'm jinxed for life.

Hoping is what I've done so well in the past 26 years but all it got me is hurt. Everytime.

The pain in my chest is not subsiding, it's aggravating.

So sick of working extra hard in every aspect and never getting anywhere with forever being optimistic.

I know I can do it. Why doesn't anybody see it?

It's not just the interview I recently went to. It's definitely not the first letdown. That's just the straw that breaks the camel's back. Everything else that has to do with career development has the sky falling on me.

Yes, tell me I'm an idiot for quitting from The Company but I have no regrets. The only thing I'm denied of now is the pleasure of getting loans at whopping amounts approved for minimal interest but that is it, not what I'm looking for.

Do I really want to spend the rest of my life getting paid for doing something I despise so greatly that the thought of looking at a flat screen monitor makes me nauseous?

No.

But how do I pursue what I really want?

I know I deserve it, maybe even more than some.

I was looking through my portfolio yesterday. A tear ran down my cheek. I've wasted so much time harbouring fruits of my passion for nothing. Some clients don't even appreciate the fact that I'm the least demanding writer slashed translator around that I am even denied bragging rights of the published hardcopies I've sacrificed precious sleep for.

Have you ever flipped through magazines with inspiring success stories of young women or great columns with a passport photo of the female writer attached at the left-hand corner and thought to yourself,

"Hey, I could be her,"

..and your insides bleed?

I've stopped the habit of browsing at newsstands.

My Life is Officially Over

2006-11-07T15:31:00.000+08:00

My head is throbbing.

It's supposed to be a marvelous today.

Encouraged by Cik KwinkyDinky I went for an interview at a TV station, armed with a rim of my writing portfolio staplebound into a pretty book all giddy and nervous like Peter Parker at The Daily Bugle.

A broadcast journalist. Now that's something I've wanted to do when I was six. I made my sisters listen to my reading out newspaper headlines a'la Wan Zaleha Radzi and nurtured Christian Amanpour correspondence skills with a best friend during our recess roleplays since primary school.

Anyway.

Objective= childhood dream+ evaluation of own nett worth.

The newsteam who attended to me were nice. One of them was a newscaster (honour). At this point of time I don't know just what my chances are. I realized while they were mulling at my capabilities that my Bahasa just as good as my English. I'm sure they noticed also; my being tongue-tied and trying too hard that I sounded like a complete idiot.

Why am I always screwing up the most important appointments?

I just hope everything works out for the best. If it doesn't, oh well (again).

I felt good about the whole episode after until on my way home, I made a pit stop at campus to send off an assignment.

I remember texting my sister and wedging the phone in between my thighs like I always do. How ironic that I do that to not misplace it. Then I ran (in heels) to the lecturer's office, got back into the car and made a killer u-turn en route to Sungai Besi that caused stuff on the passenger seat to toss over onto the foot mat.

Thinking that my mobile would be somewhere among the mess, I parked by the side of the road to look for it.

An hour passed and it was not found.

In fact, it was never on the passenger seat at all.

My thoughts retrieved: it must have fallen out of my lap; off my damned slippery skirt when I rushed out of the car. I probably didn't hear the expected thud because I parked on grass.

There goes my super annoying morning alarm and important numbers, the gateway to my sanity.

I've drowned phones in toilet ducts, slammed one in between Komuter doors, made another do quintuple somersaults on hot tar, dropped yet another none right smack into animal crap and misplaced most of them (but usually found in the silliest places).

None actually were really lost.

And to add to that misery, I paid RM 25 for petrol at Petronas and drove off without even a filling drop into my tank.

I need a therapist.

We Were All From That Continent

2006-11-06T15:01:00.001+08:00

How would you like it if Wednesday Addams told you that you sounded like a dead fish?

Exactly.

At the office I have this unbearable urge to strangle an 18-year old smart alec whose sole purpose in life is to highlight weaknesses (whether true or otherwise) of everyone else to the world because he happens to be the boss's relative that vetoes getting away with anything at all.

He is the sloppiest, rudest, cockiest staff on our team. Yet he had the cheek to come around my table to make fun of my calls which I believe; based on my coaching sessions with the boss herself are always warm, friendly and pleasant.

I feel like I'm in kindergarten all over again. Argggghh.

Rather than praying for him to be run over and over again by an IWK truck, at least something good has come out of all that negative chi. I'm venting my frustrations through books.

Yes, I am reading once more.

I do have space throughout the inconsistent call queue at work to run through some literature. Remembering that I was, and still am a speedreading demon, a 300-odd page book would be an easy 3-hour journey even with customer queries interrupting time and time again.

That's the thing with me. I like to finish there and then. If I bookmark a page and not return to in 24 hours, consider the book will be left unread for another 365 days.

I'm picking up No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series by Alexander McCall Smith that I've left off since summer last year. I'm with writers who think out of the United States of America. I like being transported to a different place, an exotic one if possible, and learn new things that are not particularly white. Exposure to new cultures, new places. Smith's a simplistic, amusing and sometimes hilarious look at the fictional life of the first woman to have ever become a private eye in Botswana made me fall in love the beautiful night and day of the Kalahari in colourful Africa.

Regardless the fact that I was never (and probably never will be) there, it's an ache that makes me feel like dying.

The Curious Incident of The Pseudo Dog in The Night-Time

2006-11-02T14:12:00.000+08:00

I tried to understand it but I couldn't.

I sat at my workstation with my routine but my mind was really somewhere else.

How can it be?

I've discussed with some colleagues and all of us had trouble trying to put two and two together.

It's a mystery, yes it is.

Here is the 411 on what's boggling us:

At the office, there is a staircase that's frequently used by everyone who would want to pop by the smoking zone at the ground floor.

Many of us got the shock of our lives today, and not to mention giant waves of nausea.

The Bank's favourite flight of stairs slash road to perdition was defecated on, an endless trail of human waste dripping from the top to the ground floor.

Whoa. Somebody had a bad buffet.

At first our theory was that an animal of any sort got loose in the building. After a while it didn't make sense because the entrance is out way in front which would require beasts to pass a few doors using unique security tags.

So eEEeeeeekkkkk! Check that one off the list.

At some point we were enraged but somehow found it funny enough to laugh about and we couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor fella who caused the frightening mess.

What confused my colleagues and I was, there were stains on the walls as well.

How on earth is that humanly possible?

Loosen Up Me Buttons

2006-10-31T15:33:00.000+08:00

Determined to not lose out on Raya visiting ,I woke up early on Sunday much to my own chagrin. Had only two hours of sleep after checking out of the office followed by some violent tossing and turning before I actually got some shuteye.

I managed to pull it together despite an amazing race of open houses that followed. On my last stop which happened to be at The Fiancee's, I was told that his sister was being attended to a Madura masseuse in one of the bedrooms for an occasional treatment.

Hey, I want some TLC too!

A zombified me volunteered to go next, stripped to my undies and let the chatty Kak Kotim (yes, I couldn't stop grinning at that too) work her magic.

It was FANTASTIC. Hell, if Kak Kotim was a man I'd propose in a heartbeat regardless what her mama named her.

When she was done mucking with my rejuvenated joints, she woke me up and asked:

" Adik nak dengar tak?"
" Apa dia?"
" Dengarlah."

I paused for a while and frowned.

"Apa dia kak? Tak ada apa-apa pun?" I wasn't getting at anything.

She then put pressed her palms down on my tummy.

" Sekarang dengar tak?"

Then there was an audible sSSSSssssSSSSsss.

" Eh, dari mana datang tu kak?"

Kak Kotim laughed and pointed to my belly button.

" Sini."

Well I'll be damned. A massage and a magic show. I'm definitely booking my next appointment.

Raya Holiday My Foot

2006-10-26T02:36:00.000+08:00

To hit the office again.

The stint in Perak went like the wind. With my brother's ambitious drift driving I believe I was only there for approximately 24 hours. I'm glad I caught up with relatives even only for a while and although we would get to see each other so often in KL anyway. Next year I heard that we won't balik kampung at Taiping nor Masjid Tanah on Dad's side since I will be married and my brother's flying off to Dublin (cross our fingers) soon.

Would be married. Wow, shivers.

En Pramugara's kidnapping me to Kuala Sepetang was cut off completely because of the consistent showers in all areas of Larut Matang and Selama. At the rate I was eating I am partly grateful because the amount of nasi impit I consumed was showing out of my nose already. I visited his humble home, was introduced to the guy his mom is allegedly dating and had some rounds of cigarettes at the only mamak stall open in town; in Kamunting Jaya to be exact.

My dad had a toothache and I'm scheduled for my shift tomorrow so we plus one elder sister took one of the two cars back home by noon today after our courtesy call to Parit and some lovely gulai labu at Layang Kanan in Parit; leaving my mom with the rest of the kids behind to reminisce her hometown for a few more days. It's funny this year that Raya is so brief and the highway's already congested with people rushing home to start work on the third Raya. It took us 5 damned hours, almost as if we took the traditional route via Tapah.

Now that I will be working Saturdays, I'll be missing out on a lot of open houses (arghhh misery).

Heigh Ho.Heigh Ho. To office here we go.

Balik Kampung

2006-10-23T14:14:00.000+08:00

Ketupat Palas-a fetish of the North

Aaaah.. me time. I'll be on leave until second Raya so that gives me plenty of space to blog; unlike my other off days where I'd be busy tending to hutang, classes and other personal errands (as if on default).

These should be enough for a whole week's updates.

I don't have baju raya(s). Was too swamped to go to Miriam and Tooti Roodi's to surrender saree materials that have been resting at the bottom of my wardrobe for a couple of years now. Earlier I didn't care if I had any at the rate my pocket was hollowing but when I saw everyone in the house ironing theirs in full Super Daia glory I couldn't help growing green.

Jusco is open till one tonight. Must scour.

(Team, don't forget to assemble at Uptown tonight for Cho Dai Dee till late)

I take back what I said about Taiping. Now that everyone's gonna be there tomorrow I can't wait, especially since En Pramugara promised to take me to Kuala Sepetang for glorious mee with fat toe-sized prawns. There shall also be a pit stop at arwah Grand Moyang's place in Parit before heading back to KL. I look forward to Perak Hilir language lessons then.

And oh, it's not Sembilu this year on TV, it's Janji Diana apparently (snore).

Hooray hooray Zoo and Taman Tasik Taiping here we come!!!

I Definitely Am Brunette

2006-10-21T17:05:00.000+08:00

When you're in a dog eat dog world you will never be beautiful enough, or tall enough or thin enough.

Lesson learnt.

Yesterday mek pergi "casting". Man, that was a roar. Of course rejection was inevitable.

What the hell was I thinking, walking into the audition with my clown makeup on and weighing at 73 damned kilos??!

DOH.

I'm only glad at the end of the day the delusional stunt I pulled got at least some validation.

" Are you a flight attendant?"

" Which talent house are you from?"

" Hey didn't I see you from a catalogue before?"

" Pernah berlakon ke?"

Fwaaah. Not badlah for a walking talking potato sack.

As much as I tried not to beat myself up about it, I felt kind of sad I didn't make it. But I'm proud I picked up every single ounce of confidence in my body to go make a fool out of myself, regardless the fact that I was the only person without an eating disorder over there.

I'm gonna go with the late Aaliyah philosophy ;

"if you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again".

Right on.

Next on 101 Things To Do Before I Die list: attempt at TV news anchor opportunities.

Note to self #1: Thy skin shall be as thick as an elephant's
Note to self #2: No lemang and muruku for holiday season

Happy Deepavali and Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri!

My Life is So Bland I'm Writing About Carbonated Drinks

2006-10-20T14:01:00.000+08:00

Diet Coke's a thing of the past.

The smart invention of Pepsi Max has gotten to me. For the same reason people swear by java beans, I'd go nuts if I went on for more than 48 hours without the tasteless cola.

Whatmore with the graveyard shift and the scorching/hazy/rainy/confused climate of Ramadhan, it's almost a drug.

I brought a bottle to work yesterday to keep me company and stuffed it in the pantry fridge. When I went back there to collect it (in great anticipation and hopes of temporary hypnosis nevertheless),

it was gone.

By the beard of Zeus,

somebody stole it!

Of all the free flowing caffeine in the office vending machines, 10 sticky fingers had to wrap themselves around the Pepsi Max that I paid for.

That's not very nice isn't it?

This calls for a manhunt.

*excuse the insomnia-two hoots for all my october babies, happy birthday yall*

Another Notch On That Post

2006-10-14T15:24:00.000+08:00

I am (again) one year older.

I've passed that "early 20s" stage.

When I blew the candles of my cake 365 days ago I wanted to:

Settle down halfway through

~~Lose weight~~
~~Revamp wardrobe~~

Pay off debts needs some more work
~~Go on a few more holidays~~
~~Get a career change~~

Start on a Masters Degree hanging in there

...before I turn 26. Oh well, 4 out of 7 ain't bad.

I've come to terms with aging. Albeit the alarming hairfall I found only one that's grey so far. Eyebags are still in control, skin still supple, teeth clean, knees strong.

There was one point in time when I looked in the mirror and a 90 year-old gran would be staring back at me. I thought I had lost my youth. And mind.

It's all in your head.

If you don't like what see or do, fix it. Environment,thoughts, habits, attitude.

Slowly but surely you will find what you seek.

Keeping up with colleagues and friends much younger than I am in terms of fashion and trends is going on fine. I like the idea of being Yoda at work- at least experience sets me apart from the brats and earns me respect in some way or other.

I like the gasps of disbelief when I reveal the years I have on me too.

I like where I am now. I have major objectives to achieve before the big 27 but I'll think about that later.

I am going to go get myself a big huge brownie cake first.

Happy Birthday to Me.

The Young Owl In The Midnight

2006-10-08T14:20:00.000+08:00

I had a good four days off waiting for the new shift to take effect. Most of it I spent getting my finances and Buku 555 back on track, as well as yelling at people who owe me money (on the phone).

A few clients I'm chasing are avoiding me and some have the cheek to say that they're putting my payments on hold for their Raya bonus to go through.

*steam blows out from ears*

I've tried to reason but waiting 4-24 months is about much. Sometimes I wonder if I have a holographic tattoo on my forehead that says "F.O.C" I wasn't aware about.

That's it. I've had enough of putting my job and studies on the line for a quick buck that's taking centuries to show on my bank account.

No more freelancing. Period.

Back at The Bank, I find that my work hours are amazing. 4pm to 3am is a long stretch but time whizzes by so fast that for all you know it's time to punch out. Now that training's over it's a different ballgame altogether but I'm getting nimbler everyday to keep up with the team's solid performance.

It's a lot harder than I thought it would be but I like it that this time around I know exactly what I'm doing.

Some cons of the job would be transportation, on my side at least. Initially I wanted to save some dosh by taking the company shuttle at One Utama but after a while that concept of Park N' Ride became pointless unless if you were Aileen Wuornos. I probably would have been raped 5 times in the span of walking at least 500m from the drop-off point to where my car is if it weren't for some colleagues who were hithing a ride home; considering the 3 construction sites around and suspicious men on bikes at that area in the wee hours.

Other than that would be the Friday/Saturday feeling I've always looked forward to. While everyone else is somewhere about town, I'd be tapping away on my PC or smoking a cigarette on office porch in the company of Gurkha guards.

Good thing they don't look anything like Hamid Gurkha.

I miss my fiancee the most, my parents and good friends as well. It's as if I'm in a different timezone (well,sort of) and I am out of reach with everyone I know.

Withdrawal symptoms.

On planning my leave for the next quarter,

MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP.

I hope my 26 candles next Saturday won't be at Hassan's Cyberjaya. So leave, please get approved.

My team leader's asked if I'd like to take 25th and 26th off. I didn't hear her say 26th the first time around and confirmed that I was fine with just one day for Raya. Realizing my mistake, I was about to retract when the image of sitting around aimlessly at Mak Tok's place in Pokok Assam watching Sembilu or Tragedi Oktober for the 2000th time on TV while sweating in our baju kurungs and gaining weight with Kellogg's cookies for three consecutive days came to mind.

Raya would be just fine without Awie or Erra in Taiping.

In Half a Knot

2006-09-24T18:26:00.000+08:00

Excuse my fortnightly (or more posts). I don't have the luxury of even saying hi to a sister who shares a room with me whatmore looking into this abandoned journal. Sorry baby, mommy's been pretty wound up.

Despite it all, am liking how things are going now. I have been engaged since a few weeks back. A thunderstorm and power failure blackout during the mini ceremony kind of spooked me besides my useless hairdo (I wanted it to be classic 30s, but Bahasa incompetent amoi deciphered it as classic lempeng - gosh I have a really flat head).

Other than those and the tasteless mihun goreng everything else went smooth sailing.

ps. email me for photos, tho feedback within 24 hrs not guaranteed

And I feel that the event brought Encik Fiancee and I closer together.

(Mush)

I should be doing up excel sheets for my wedding plans like I usually would do for major things in life like this but I'm giving myself until November to start worrying. Mom is starting to annoy me with her constant interference and unnecessary bridal stuff reminders. She's starting to make me wonder who's the one really getting married. If she wasn't so caught up in competing with the neighbours down the road who are going to have weddings around the same time that I would have been fine with a nikah gantung and a small open-house like reception at our porch. Really.

I've never seen this side of her before. Talk about marriage and she suddenly grows an Iron Fist.

Mom does not adhere to simplicity.

On work and other activities, I am exhausted to my bones. I wake up everyday with clumps of hair on my bed. Is that what stress is all about?

I think I've spent so much time (travelling to) at work and rushing for class at night. I was so drained at one time that I screwed up my emcee job for that graded subject event. The audience weren't laughing with me, they were laughing at me.NEVER again shall I ever public speak EVER again.

Out of desperation a few days ago I took a midterm exam with my notes hidden in between my answer sheets. I was so tired my guilty conscience didn't even work.

I can't wait for the semester to end. Enough of Statistics and SPSS already!

Next week, I'm going to start my new 4pm to 3am shift: Wednesdays through Saturdays. The bad news is I only get one day away for Raya since it's already allocated on my weekly 3-day off rotation. The good news is; by the time I wake up, take a bath, take the coach to work and go 2 hours into my day it's already buka puasa time.

Ramadhan would be a breeze this year.

McD's Ramadhan buffet won't be the same without D0nut, soul food extraordinaire who'll be away semi-permanently to Hong Kong.

Who's going to sneak the foldovers into a handbag now?

Last Night Triamcinolone Acetonide Saved My Life

2006-09-07T20:44:00.000+08:00

I pride myself for rarely getting sick.A maximum of twice a year,maybe. I don't know what was it that was in the blue cordial of a wedding I attended last Saturday that made my sinuses hit the roof. Or why my dad has Artic air-conditioning in his car on a rainy night when we made our way back from the Radzuan Radziwill-studded affair.

I was down and out to the point where I was weeping in pain. My nose hurt so badly from sneezing and excessive Kleenex made the skin around my nostrils peel. The bawling was partly regretting faking all those MCs on my last job too. I desperately wanted to go to a doctor but I haven't received my medical card from The Bank's HR and neither had I any money until my next paycheck. Even if I could afford to skip work, missing out on a day of my current training is like skipping two episodes on a season of Lost. The dilemma.

Karma has mysterious ways of biting you in the ass, doesn't it?

I met up with Ylanda *bless you child* who was back from the islands on Tuesday. Besides discussing her duty roster at the resort, fleas on some village kids and the occasional oohhsahhss of "hey you lost weight", she and some other friends suggested I get nasal spray.

When I drove back with a killer migraine and almost hit the Princess Diana Uptown tunnel divider I immediately spent the last RM 60 I had at a 24 hour clinic for a bottle of Nasacort Aq.

Not a drip escaped since: priceless.

Thank goodness. Was worried that I'd be snorting into my hanky away on my engagement.

Oh yeah, my engagement. That's two days more.

*buzz of excitement*

Gotta get crackin' on the hair and make-up.

Fat Celebrity

2006-08-27T18:06:00.000+08:00

My new job doesn't allow handphones on the floor, neither does it have internet access because of its banking nature. I've been pretty much out of touch with the real world. Gosh I so miss

...... my gossip bloghopping. I wonder what skanky HoHan is up to right now.

I hardly get to see The Boyfriend@ Mr. Future Fiancee nowadays. Once in a few days we meet in between his editings, shoots or after my night classes for about 30 to 45 minutes. It's exasperating when we have so many things to talk about but we have to compress the bubbles to idle chat because of time constraint.

Patience, my love. Things will perk up soon. I hope whatever we both are looking for would be found soon and gives us the flexibility of courting each other without worrying about what time we should set our alarms for tomorrow.

I miss my favourite beatties too. We'll catch up soon won't we?

Last Thursday I was appointed emcee for a function the class committee came up with that's graded in our Advanced PR subject. I was being a good sport about it. I've just noticed after crawling out of my hermit shell at my new workplace that I love the spotlight very much. Apparently a classmate of mine who works with the Tourism Ministry got us matching t-shirts to wear during the event but being the freeloading scrooges that we are, we could only manage sizes L, XL and XXL.

Another classmate, Gomen Employee Old Fart who was assigned to distribute the tees came up to me, trying to contain his laughter.

"What size do you want?"

"Can I have an L please?"

He rummaged through the stack of tees, spread the L-sized shirt open and shook his head.

"You confirm tak muat ni!! You kena pakai XXL!"

My good gila glamour mood turned sour. That L he was talking about could house a baby hippo. But being the diplomatic Libra that I am, I told him to show me XXL. My dad, my mom, my four sisters, my brother and me could wear it together and there would still be space.

" That's too big. I'm not that huge, you know."

" Yes you are. You can't wear an L," his playful tone turned serious.

" Yes I can."

" No you can't!"

" Yes I can."

" No you can't!"

He shoved the XXL onto my chest and walked off as if he was Russell Crowe who had just stabbed a hungry tiger at the Colosseum. I felt like jumping off a building. Struggling with obesity throughout your adolescense has been bad enough but having an ageing jackass rub it vehemently in your face in front of everyone was the worst thing ever. I am immune to fat jokes but this is a different scenario altogether.

It's a good thing that the younger gang I click with in class were supportive and were the only people who actually noticed I've lost 10 kilos since April. They won't have my living on dates and banana milk on long periods of time go unappreciated.

Just when Gomen Old Fart was turning around with a fatty comeback, they all yelled for me,

" GIVE HER THE DAMNED L!!"

Baby Steps

2006-08-12T12:45:00.000+08:00

The house is under siege now, preparing for my engagement.

*tingles*

Ribbons, flowers and soap (?) are everywhere. For the theme colour I initially wanted mustard or maroon but my Mom kinda beat me to the punch. She'd bought this outrageously expensive turqouise lace from Indonesia she knows she won't wear anytime soon unless it's an important event so right after being washed up with guilt from the impulse purchase she came to me and said,

" You're getting yourself a turquoise coloured engagement dress. And a turquoise engagement party."

I have never been a fan of pastels. But nevermind.

The day is drawing near and my excitement is unfolding. Weeks ago D0nut asked me why I didn't seem too psyched about it. And to anyone else who's wondering the same thing, let me tell you this. When you are in between jobs and suffering from the depression of being in between jobs while your parents are paying for everything, you'd wish you could do something else besides glueing beads to the doorgifts. I still have my pride intact somewhere, you know what I mean? My parents are super enthused and don't really mind doing the dirty job of going to the ATM for me (well I guess just my Mom is) these past few months so I suppose I could disengage my snob mindset into becoming a freeloader for a bit. Miffed that my guestlist is limited though, but beggars can't be choosers can they?

I'm doing polaroids of how my make-up and hair should be in my head. Why do people have to dress and make themselves so poised and something-stuck-up-in-butt elegant on occasions like these? I'm thinking smokey J.Lo big hair 60s agogo rollerqueen drag. Could give my future MIL a cardiac arrest but My mom had it on her wedding and she looked HOT. I've already appointed my free hairdresser (Sis No.5) and budget make-up artist (Abbiey Banoserina Milosevich ), budget style.

Next week is dress fitting week. I've noticed shed more pounds recently I think and I worry the fixes would take a long time. I sent it in last May and to date the seamstress has only managed to cut the fabric. Haiyaaa.

I can't wait, anyway.

To wear it with the engagement ring.

*****

Work at The Bank is great. I haven't had this kind of attitude for a long time or maybe it's still too early to tell. At the moment it's like going to college, I have an two-week induction and six weeks of training before I start my job, or `go live' as they call it; in October . HR is turbo efficient, the people are friendly and the casualwear makes me feel 10 years younger.

I like my new colleagues because of their diverse backgrounds. With a tiny exception of one kid that's slowly getting on my nerves although she is awfully nice and friendly. There are some things about her I tried to understand and be as open as I can but I guess there's always going to be that Melayu in me somewhere.

She sports Bienda-ish headscarves and would definitely qualify as a summer camp motivator with the kind of caffeinated energy she has that breaks the silence of our wee morning hours.
I smoke a lot but this dragon I've just gotten to know smokes about 5 cigarettes on a five minute break. She claims she's smoked since she was 15 *rolls eye*.
She tells me she grew up modelling in the States and recently turned down a flight attendant job offer with Etihad in Dubai. Fine, she has the height and looks despite her pockmarks but from what I know (and I know because I've always wanted to be a cabin crew but because gemuk so I browse the relevant websites saja nak feeling), Etihad is a new Middle Eastern airline based in Abu Dhabi and so far have never opened their vacancies to residents outside the Gulf.
A few days ago she came in with a sleeveless top and a short skirt. With the headscarf still.
I recently bought a pair of Nicole Richie-esque shades. When she saw me wear it she ran up to me and said, "OmigodDDDDdddDD!! I have the same exact pair in pink! I'll bring it tomorrow and we can both wear it....Best Friends Forever!"

Best. Friends. Forever.

Ack.

I think I'll go to work on Monday without my deodorant. Maybe that will get her at least 5 feet away from me.