Things I've learnt to say when a moronic bf/husband has peabrained demands/suggestions. Be it a joke or for real, these are common requests that annoy the fcks out of me.

Moron : Lets try a threesome. You can pick the girl.
Me: On one condition.
Moron : What's that?
Me : I want a threesome as well, with you and another guy.

Moron : I think you should get implants.
Me : Lets. Me implants, you penis enlargement.

5 things found in my bag:
1. wallet
2. cellphone
3. digicam
4. ipod
5. lip balm

5 things found in my wallet:
1. sometimes money
2. IC
3. credit cards
4. drivers license
5. atm cards

5 favourite things in my room:
1. my laptop
2. my pc
3. my bed
4. my closet
5. my shoes

5 things I always wanted to do:
1. write a book before i die
2. travel europe
3. shag adrian grenier
4. play on a grand piano
5. kiss in the rain

5 things I'm currently into:
1. shoes
2. wine & dine
3. dark handsome scruffy blokes
4. dark chocolates
5. money

List out the top 4 presents you wish for:
1. pda phone
2. a million dollars
3. ps3
4. lifetime supply of free shoes
5. a new car

The person who tagged you is:
Vince

Your 5 impressions of him/her:
1. emo
2. alcoholic
3. stone shit
4. whiny - internship amongst many others - sorry Vince, you've turned into an Uncle I don't wanna sit next to at family dinners.
5. emo - I know I've said it.

Most memorable thing he/she has done to you:
Called me at 5am. Drunk. Niama.

If he/she becomes your lover, you will:
Shoot myself in the head with a desert eagle.

If he/she becomes your enemy, the reason will be:
Because I called him fat.

Pass the quiz to 5 people!
5 people.

This is how it would look like...





Eavesdrop!



If they were friends today.

I have finally installed Photoshop on my laptop so I'm back to occasional photoblogging.

This is an entry way overdue. The Mother's 50th birthday. Celebrated early April at Vincezo, One Bangsar.

Ambience

Appetizers


Main Course


Dessert!


The VIP

Fonts and placement looks fug because I haven't gotten around to downloading prettier fonts and I'm so out of it, my sense of decorating has sort of deteriorated. Okay, I'll just be honest. I'm lazy.

Back to the food. It tastes as good as it looks. The Mother is a fussy eater because like every other mother, they believe they can cook better for a much cheaper price. However, she was impressed with this. So yeah, good stuff.

Damage : Bout RM600+ for 4 pax, inclusive of drinks which I didn't bother taking pictures of.
Money (not mine - thank God) well spent.


Vincenzo Ristorante Italiano

One Bangsar, 63H Jalan Ara Bangsar Baru,
59100, Kuala Lumpur.

tel: +(603) 2287 1686

www.vincenzo-ristorante.com

Tagged by Catia.

1. I talk to my shoes.
2. I want a VW Golf GTi and a Hummer.
3. I want to take 2 years off and travel Europe.
4. I love dark scruffy men. (Think Adrian Grenier, Petros Bogeas, Steven Strait)
5. I wish I was taller.
6. I can stay in my pyjamas the whole day.
7. I wish I could sing. The kind that gives you goosebumps, in a good way.
8. I am an environmentalist. I can see myself dedicating my life to protecting the environment.
9. I love fried chicken. I'd like to eat that shit and not gain an ounce.
10. I want a bunny, 2 puppies and a panda when I have my own place.
11. I want to be paid to travel, eat and write. In USD/GBP preferably.
12. I dislike Nicholas Sparks. With a passion.

He walks into a gift shop. He picks the prettiest box he sees. Not necessarily the prettiest in the store, but the prettiest in his eyes.

He fills the box with everything he thinks represents care, happiness and love.

Along his way home, he drops the box. A couple of times in fact, causing minor dents here and there. But it's alright, all he needs to do is to pick it up and continue his journey home.

This new box serves as his new play thing, giving it his utmost attention every time he can.
However, like any other toy, its novelty begins to wear thin. Maybe not now, but in the future. Definitely.

The box was neglected.

The paper that fabricates the box begins to tear. What it used to hold; care, happiness and love, slipped day by day, leaving the box hollow in times to come.

One day, as he is fishing for his house keys, he places the box on the pavement. The keys were in his back pocket of his jeans, and the box found a new home. The pavement.

Days turned weeks and weeks turned to months.

The box was forgotten.

The torn paper that fabricates the box begins to decay. Sitting on the pavement, rain and shine, its colours begin to fade, the paper begins to disintegrate. To describe the box in one word.

Damaged.

I found this rather amazing and amusing at the same time. Facebook offers free gifts every once in awhile and me, being the cheapskate and opportunist that I am, seized the moment. Carpe diem baby.

So, this is the latest item for the week.





Click to enlarge

This was who I intended to buy give it to.



Click to enlarge

Upon clicking 'Send gift', this popped up.



Click to enlarge

Waddafak was the first thing that came to mind.
Then it hit me, B is not 21... yet.

So yes people, could the Facebook Conspiracy theory be true?

*pondering silence*

Anyway, I ended up with this instead.



Click to enlarge

Glad to know someone's responsible.

Today, at work, amidst the gastritis of brain juice and the ultimate showdown of the eyelids vs. pupils, an invisible acorn fell on what I would like to call a head; or my head and enlightened me.






wW : Shit! I just realized something...
marcie : What's that?
wW : We're doing our internship now, and our job scope is to write, right?
marcie : Yeah...
wW : So, 3 months of internship = 3 months of writing.
1 week holiday = write internship report.
Final semester = major in creative writing = MORE writing.
Graduate and work = writer = write some more. More than more.
Fckness.
So basically, from this moment on, we won't stop writing for the rest of our lives!
marcie : OMG yeah!! Damn CW!

When he leaves his girlfriend for you, you tell yourself, that's because I'm special.

When you're approached randomly and told you're different, it's true, because you're special.

When he cheats on his girlfriend for you, you feel triumphant, thats because I'm special.

When he tells you sweet nothings, you believe. Because you're special.

When he promises you the world shit, you hold on to it. Because you're special.

Wake up.

You're not.

To him - because he is a fuckwad.

But you are, and you have to keep telling yourself that.

Shah Alam.

Though where I live constitutes as Shah Alam, I have never been to the town itself. I've been to that part of town a couple of times. By accident of course. The hopeless inbuilt navigation system in me is permanently dysfunctional.

I had to pick up a package on Friday at Shah Alam's main post office. It was like me looking for the Oasis in Sahara.

Of course, it goes without saying. I got lost.

I called numerous people whom I hoped would know Shah Alam well. Sadly, Shah Alam is like Atlantis. People know of it, but they don't know where it is. Ok, I'm exaggerating. They do, they're just not familiar with it.

My last resort was to call the post office and have them direct me. I'm really dense when it comes to directions. Yes, so I enforce the stereotype of women with horrible sense of direction, that doesn't make you God.

Two operators had to guide me. It got to a point where this guy kept saying I have to make a U-turn and I told him I can't. He said it's tough to direct me from the side of the road I'm at because I'm actually pretty close.

Post Dude (PD) : Tak boleh buat U-Turn ke?! (Can't you make a U-Turn?)
wW: Boleh, tapi kene driver maut la (Can, but I'd have to be a killer kick ass driver) - something along those lines
PD: *laughs* Ok la, kereta apa u bawak? Warna dengan nombor kereta apa? Saya datang cari you la (Ok, so what car are you driving? What's its colour and license plate? I'll come look for you)

So I had a personal escort to the post office.

At the post office, I didn't know where I needed to go to collect my parcel. I asked another Post Dude, he pointed to the back.

It wasn't it.

So I looked at him again and he told me to wait. He came over after he was done with whatever post-esque deed he was doing and brought me into the mail room.

So I collected my package directly from the mail room.

Moral of the story, Shah Alam might be a horrible town for me, but I think the people are fab!

Everytime I travel back to Kuantan by land, I notice stalls scattered all along the sidewalks of Karak highway like lalangs gone wild. What amuses me is, they all sell the same thing.

Lemang.

So tell me. I go to store #1, look at the bamboo stick and decides its not green enough and proceed to store #2? I know we can taste before purchasing but honestly, it doesn't make much of a difference. I once bought from a particular vendor because I found their pulut (glutinous rice) much softer than the others.

Seriously, it hardened by the time I got home. (Flattered, thank you. But no thanks.)

My point being, why in Satan's name do we need 20 over workshops in Damansara Uptown. The same row as iACT nonetheless.

I do not discriminate mechanics. But it irks the hell out of me due to the fact that we already lack parking space. With all the restaurants, offices and a college. Malaysia Boleh. So we're all rich. We all own cars. We need to park our cars. We need space to park those cars mentioned. When a workshop decides to run their business, they automatically self claim the lot right in front of their shop theirs. They paint red over the yellow box and ta da! Another spot has been sacrificed to the demons.

I had the privilege to drop by college last Saturday. Only to find yet another workshop opened right beside my college.

Maybe I should cycle to class next semester.

Save Mother Nature while I'm at it.

Not the bicycle kind.

Everyone's been telling me it's just a vicious cycle.

Funny that the word cycle was used and how it aptly applies in this situation.

This very day marked the beginning of us.
This very day also marks the end.
A full cycle.

Makes me wonder how I land myself in such shit feces most of the time.
I must have been a fly in my past life.
There you go.

Another cycle. Life cycle.

"Hi baby"
"I'm alright, how's work?"
"Really?"
"That sucks."
"WHAT?! That bitch!"
"Mmmhmm"
"Ahuh"
*giggles*
"Awww... I miss you too."
"Okie handsome, bye bye"
"I love you too"

Oh, that was Adrian G on the phone.

twiggypixie darl, this one's for you.

I'll be taking a 5 month sabbatical from shopping.

No shoes.
I hope it's worth it.

First and foremost, I'd like to thank

Marcie, Alea Merpati & Catia.

Because of them, I'm known as The Girl Who Giggles To Herself in the office.

I had to write in BM for the (new) company I'm currently doing my internship at, which has thus unleashed the inner Mak Minah in me the past two days. I have never heard myself think in BM in years! Like I always tell my friends, I have given everything back to my high school teacher 8 years ago.

Seeing that my last entry was more than a year ago, and just for fun, I have decided to write another one.

If I could write a letter to my Guru Bahasa Melayu Tingkatan 5, it would sound a little something like this:

Kepada cikguku semasa dinda di tingkatan lima kelas 5SB Sekolah Menengah Abdul Rahman Talib,

Apa khabar wahai cikgu tersayangku tapi-saya-dah-terlupa-nama-cikgu. Dinda di sini sihat walafiat. Sejak dinda meninggalkan sekolah menengah, banyak perkara telah berlaku. Semua orang di kolej hanya bertutur dalam bahasa Inggeris sebab konon 'glamour'.

Ok la cikgu, perenggan pertama ditulis mengikut skema buku teks seperti cikgu mengajar dinda, tetapi dinda sudah malas. Jadi, mulai dari saat ini, dinda tidak akan jadi hipokrit dan akan menulis dalam bahasa pasar.

Cikgu, saya pening la kat kolej ni. Kite blaja formula ngan nama saintifik semua dalam Bahasa Melayu masa kat skolah, tapi kat kolej semua dalam kena blajar dalam Bahasa Inggeris. Kenapa kite tak blaja dalam Bahasa Inggeris terus? Budak-budak skarang bernasib baik la, blaja dalam dwi bahasa.


Bagaimana keadaan sekolah kebelakangan ini? Adakah cikgu PJ ngan cikgu Kimia masih bermaksiat? Tolong kirim salam dekat Guru Besar ya?

Oleh kerana masa tidak mengizinkan dan kekurangan idea, terpaksalah saya menamatkan surat ini.
Terima kasih.

Tulus ikhlas,
Pelajar pengkhianat yang tak mengenang budi.

To clarify, none of those happened in my school. Purely fictional.

Ok, I seriously don't get these people.

I understand there's

1. Save cost
2. Good service
3. Returning customers

Problem is, if there's no #2, #3 would not exist.

My problem here is #1.

Restaurants or food outlets these days save cost by hiring foreign workers. You'd be surprised when you google Malaysia and descriptions consist of multi racial and multi lingual. In other words, the image they are portraying is there are soooo many language to choose from that communication will NOT be a problem when you step into this country.

So, I guess the choices aren't that great cause these people don't seem to understand my order.
And the saddest part is, it's the most basic order of all.

Water


Experience #1.
I ordered warm water and the waiter said...

"Dirty water"

Abhorred, I asked what did he mean? He repeated dirty water and added

"To wash hand"

I said "To drink"

To which he politely nodded, smiled and said yes.

So I'm thinking why the fuck would you serve me dirty drinking water for washing hands and just announce it casually like your wife has just given birth.

This went on for the next 10 to 15 minutes. I finally gave up and ordered

"MINERAL WATER. THE ONE IN PLASTIC BOTTLE, CAN?!"

The Sister and I still find what he said undecipherable to this very day.

Experience #2
Again, I ordered warm water.
I decided to take a challenged and ordered with a slice of lemon.

He served me lime juice.

I said warm water with lemon slice.

He said "Yes, this is warm water and inside is lime juice."

I have no one else to blame but my adventurous ass.

I miss it.

Wretched Sorority Bitch Boot Camp is now in my past.

Amen.