Has it been that long?

Hell yeah! They say time is relative but it is sure long in Internet years. Sometimes I think the Internet are akin to dog years (Not implying that the Internet has got fur and wag it's tail) One freaking year in the real world is like ten years in the Cyber world (By the way do they still call it Cyber these days?). I reckon if I have been consistently blogging waay back in the Jurassic blogging era I'd be a damn veteran by now, sort of like those WWII POW like that. Unfortunately I am characteristically lazy and at most time too freaking distracted to sit down properly to write something without turning my attention to trivial things as cleaning my keyboard then my laptop screen then checking for stray facial hairs... (OK too much information).

But you get my drift...

So the last time I have ever written something was.... (Random flashbacks of days, months, years) somewhere during Chinese New Year two or three light years ago (have to get into that Internet age thingy) and how I told my Uncle that cock-and-bull story about my supposedly *ahem sexual orientation. Looking back that was a rather stupid thing to say but nevertheless funny as hell to see his facial expression. Tipsy uncle can finally retire as the resident spy for I got hitched, much to the relief of my two old folks (who I suspect can't wait to get rid of me and by the way not that very old - just to a point where they are old enough to get certain discounts in places they go), my two grandmas (god bless maternal grandmama's soul) and other self appointed marriage/fortune teller/feng shui master/pat poh who has been trying to tell me how to run my life weather directly or indirectly. But it is all good.

I have always thought that the day you get married is the day you get that self elevated promotion from a mere executive to a manager. Not a bad deal at all. Like the manager, you get higher pay (I guess your man has to now surrender his paycheck to you, hence the higher paycheck- muahahahaha) and lesser work (because your man/woman will do it for you), and if he don't you can always fire him. Verbally I mean - not the Donald Trump-et kind of variety.

What else have changed since I've went into obliviation... Does moving a few thousand miles away from home count? It was quite an adventure though. It took us about a month to decide to get hitched then we got hitched and the following month we were well on our way to the “Great White North” landed ourselves in the middle of the Rockies. How about that for an adventure? Or a misadventure (grin). But I like it like that. No lavish wedding where you plan and plan for months and then you get all stressed up and have the wedding party of your life and then boom, life goes back to normal. I'd much rather have a simple do and have my life's little adventures here and there, I am that kind of person. But I am glad too for both our folks are cool about not having an arduous wedding do.

Anyway, I am here in my new life and environment for slightly more than a year. It wasn't all smooth sailing, I have my moments but overall I reckon it is the kind of life where I vouch if I were still back home I would never in a million years would get to experience. I see more wildlife than I have ever seen in my few momentous visits to the zoo. My adobe is situated right smack in the middle of the woods where I can see deers grazing grass at the lawn on summertime. If I am lucky... Or rather unlucky enough I can see bears wandering about. That, my friend, is one thing I would never really want to see unless I am caged or the bear is. I have also experienced one of the coldest winter ever. If you were to compare the winter here with an industrial strength freezer it will put the latter to shame.

As for my trained profession from holding a mouse and swabs of colour swatches I am now equipped with one of the sharpest knife I can ever imagine using and a chopping board. Don't worry, marriage life has not turned me into a complete lunatic... Yet. (Heh heh). I can proudly brag that I have graduated from instant noodles, to TV dinners and now to novice cooking. I kid you not, before this anyone who dares try my cooking is either very brave or very foolish. Either way I am forever grateful for those who are brave enough (or foolish) enough to eat what I cook waay back then when I can't even boil a decent pot of rice without it looking suspiciously like baby puke - Yeah, my then cooking skills would no doubt send Chef Gordon Ramsey's blood pressure right up to space. But all that has changed now :) I can make a decent meal without sending anyone to the toilet bowl or worst case to the emergency ward. And what is even better is when I see them taking second helpings. That feeling of accomplishment is almost as invigorating as presenting a good artwork to your client and seeing that certain 'glazed' look in them.

If anyone were to ask me if I like my current predicament right now, I would say its that kind of mixed feeling that one has when they are living so far away (missing home, friends, food, culture the sheer pollution and unforgiving traffic jams) while at the same time trying to grasp the idea of being someone's wife, settling down in a new environment where winter is colder than your home freezer but mostly an individual who is trying to make the best out of what I have chosen to work for me and not against.

The rest as they say, is history.

Chinese New Year Retort

It's almost Chinese New Year now and somehow I still do not feel like it is other than getting a long break from the holdrum of work.

The other day a colleague asked me if I celebrate Chinese New Year and it is coming from a Chinese dude. I have to admit I was rather surprised that he would ask me that reason being he is Chinese and presumingly he should know his culture.

The misconception a lot of people have about Chinese New Year (even to some Chinese) is that they view it as something religious like Deepavali, Christmas or even the Hanukkah. They think that because one is Christian, Chinese New Year is not something to be celebrated amongst our own Chinese kinfolk.

Yes, it is rather different from the Indians. Those who has converted to Christianity do not celebrate the Festival of Lights simply because it is a religious occasion. Whereas for a Chinese Christian, Muslim or Jew (if there is such a convert) do celebrate this joyous occasion as it is the Chinese culture. We are Chinese hence Chinese New Year is indeed a celebration to mark the beginning of the new year in the Chinese calendar. in fact I have attended a inter racial marriage where one is Chinese and the other is Malay but they still observe Hari Raya and Chinese New Year celebration.

On a different note, this year, I have a feeling I am going to be asked once again when I am tying the knot. Relatives, friends (who are about or already married with kids in tow) will bombard me with that “Oh! Why are you not married? What are you waiting for? You're not as young as you think anymore you know” kinda question.

I remembered about 4 years ago, or slightly more (I was younger and single then) my uncle could not stop hassling me about showing them my boyfriend(s) and about the subject as to when I am going to tie the knot. I was being polite then and told him rather politely that I have no intentions yet to marry and rather enjoyed staying at home being the spinster that I am. And he insisted that I was pulling his leg and how impossible that I am not attached, yada-yada-yada. I knew this dude is not going to stop yapping (and trust me, he was rather tipsy and the decible of his voice got louder and louder and I swear that the next neighbour five houses away could hear our conversation). I said, "Uncle, come here let me tell you a little secret"... Thank heavens, that stopped him yapping for a while. He looked interested like as if I am telling him the secret of my life. Anyway, I summoned him over and whispered to him, "Dont' tell anyone...I am not interested in men, I actually do fancy females".

Dear heaven, you could have seen the look on his face. It was like as if someone punched him on the face (must as well) and he was totally dumbfounded. To add more drama to my confession, I also mentioned casually that I am dating one at present.

Without a word he gave me a sheepish grin and he walked away.

That did the trick. He did not bug me after that.

So this year I reckon I can't use that line anymore. I have to find a better one. This is one that is rather effective but downright rude.... Actually this was told to me by another friend.

Pat Poh / Pat Kong : Hey this year is your last year to receive ang pau ar, next year I expect to see you giving some. (It usually comes with that *wink* like you know what I mean)

Me : (Said nothing and just smile - still trying to be very polite as for now)

Pat poh /Pat Kong : Eh, you are not young anymore lo, see, even (then they will name some distant relative who is about the same age or younger) is married and is expecting their second (third or a dozen) child. You have to think about your biological clock and its ticking away. (And they will go on about how the female reproductive system works - Suddenly becoming an expert in child bearing).

Me : (In screen saver mode).Still smiling but my mind is drifting away since I've heard this a million times before to a point I almost knew what they are going to say next.

Pat Poh / Pat Kong : (Finally finished yapping away and looking at me expectedly waiting for a reply). So... When lah?

Me : When you leave me a will. (Have to smile very sweetly in case they are willing to) Then I will be able to afford to throw a lavish wedding and of course you will be invited as the guest of honour. (And proceed to walk away)


There you go. I think I am just about to do that. At least that will keep them quiet till next year when I can think up of a better line.

my adopted pet

Fatty & Monster Hammie in their pink plastic aquarium
Hammie Fatty and Hammie Monster

One year ago today I gave that special someone a pair of hamsters one named Fatty for its size and the other Monster for his personality.

Anyway, hammie rat migrated to Penang and I only get to see them from time to time. Its ok too since I get daily updates of their well being from their keeper. Though I don't get to see them as often as I would like to, I am completely dear to them like as if it is my own pet.

The day I saw them in Pets Wonderland amongst the throngs of other hammie rats I knew these two are special in their own hammie way. (Yes, and I repeat, hamsters are cute with their beady eyes and little pert ears that is ever attentive whenever you go near them).

I bought a plastic aquarium and put the two of them into it for I need to travel to Penang on the same night. They seemed to adapt pretty well in that 4 hour journey travelling from KL to Penang only with the occasional squealing. Yes that is Monster (Hammie #1 who is tormenting and can be quite a bully and Fatty, Hammie #2). That was when I knew I am going to name them after their traits.

Anyway, when I present the gift to my man (that special person I mentioned earlier *blush) he was totally in awe. I could see him jumping up and down like a kid. He loves hammie just the way they are. After christiening them Monster and Fatty we transferred them to a biggie hammie den. They were unsure at first but soon they were romping about like a house on fire checking every nook and corner and biting the grills of the cage. Doing cartwheels (ok I added that in to add more zing into it, but in reality they were holding on to the spokes of the cage like some rare African monkey).

Then I went back to KL and for one year, my man has been taking care of them and I could see he is very attached to the both of them. Monster will be the first one to greet him every morning. He would play with them, feed them with kaya buns, chicken, rice and anything he could possibily find in the refrigerator. There were several occasion where I suggested feeding them a tiny dose of beer, since its known for its coolinng effect… :P

I like to put him on my belly and let him roam about. But he (Monster) would always end up puking, peeing or pooing on my shirt. I secretly think he is more terrified of me than I am with him.

About quite recently I got the news that Monster (yes my dear Monster) passed away in his sleep. That came as a rather shocking news since he's the more active one and shown no signs of being sick. While we are always thinking that Fatty might be the first one to go since of recent he's been showing signs of old age. But I guess hammie god has decided to take Monster to Hammie Heaven instead. I told myself that perhaps it is for the better at least he went off peacefully in his sleep. But the down side is that I did not even have the chance to see him one last time before he leaves.

I am thinking wether to replace Monster with another hammie rat so that Fatty would have a companion. There can only be one Monster and no other hammie rat in the world would ever replace him and his quirks. But then again, if I was to adopt another hammie rat, then Fatty would have a friend to play with again. Oh I don't know, I think I shall leave it for my man to decide. But either way, if he decides to get another hammie, I know I would learn to fall in love with whoever the hammie is again. And hopefully he'll be just as special as Monster.

Introducing… Miss Oblivious

Have you ever experience this thing where you have people talking about you? You have haven’t you? I mean people talk about other people all the time. Everyone! But here is the catch…Try having people talk about you right in front of your face like as if you do not exist! That is really something.

Well it did happen to me the other day.

I was in the elevator with these two other Chinese ladies who are in their late thirties who I presume they are colleagues were sharing the same lift as I am. I know colleagues talk and gossip a lot about other people but it is usually done when that person is not there or at least out of earshot.

But this one is a ‘Classic’.

There were the three of us. I pressed 11th floor while they were on a few floors higher. So you can imagine what can go on the lift whilst you painstakingly wait to reach your floor.

I stood at the corner of the lift facing the panel button while the two Chinese ladies started a conversation. Ok, here is where their name derives. Please meet Miss Oblivious and her friend Miss Equally Oblivious.

The conversation went on in Cantonese like this…

Miss Oblivious: Eh you noticed that gals feet is very small…Take a look…

Miss Equally Oblivious: Eh really meh?
(Turned and discreetly tries to look at my feet)

So you have two Misses scrutinizing my poor feet. If my feet have a life of its own, it would have already screamed for help.

Miss Oblivious: How big do you think her feet are?

From the corner of my eyes, I could see them visually molesting my poor tiny puny feet again. I was then contemplating whether to turn to them and retort in fluent Cantonese “Ngor cheok sei hou ar. PAT POH!” (I wear size 4 you nosy woman-but of course I can use other foul Cantonese words but figured since we’ll be bumping to each other for as long as I decide to work in the same building I better not). Or I’d just walk out like I didn’t even notice they were talking about me.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see them visually molesting my poor tiny puny feet again. I was then contemplating whether to turn to them and retort in fluent Cantonese “Ngor cheok sei hou ar. PAT POH!” (I wear size 4 you nosy woman-but of course I can use other foul Cantonese words but figured since we’ll be bumping to each other for as long as I decide to work in the same building I better not). Or I’d just walk out like I didn’t even notice they were talking about me.

I choose the latter. To my amazement, Miss Oblivious and her other counterpart were still busy inspecting and my feet while I stepped out of the door. The rest of the conversation I didn’t have the chance to hear, but my guess would be where in the world she would be able to find shoes to fit her and so on. Or perhaps they are dying of envy that I have such small feet that they are planning to have their feet bound in Malacca or something.

Gosh, woman… I know work can be boring and monotonous at times but talking about other people’s feet is not exactly what I call exciting and especially when you are talking about them right in front of their face. But on the bright side is at least I know my feet get ample attention whether it’s wanted or unwanted attention. :o

I've been tagged!

Ok time to do a bit of spring cleaning since I've got people (yeah, there are actually people reading what I've got to say) that my blog is collecting cobwebs. But look at it this way; I have to keep up with my blogging title. Being Lazy has its advantages. People do not expect you to write. Or rather I don't expect myself to write and still feel pretty contented about it.

Anyway I better get to the point before I put everyone to sleep on a mundane Monday morning... I am still feeling a little fuzzy over the Merdeka weekend. I came into the office turned on my PC and someone (yes you... stop grinning) put me on the alter table and told me that I've been tagged. Gosh tagged. I mean... The only tagging I know is when you are 13 and you beg your sister to bring you out to the movies with her and her friends and she reluctantly agrees but only to let you walk 5 steps behind her for the fear of being seen by their potential love interest. Yeah that is tagging to me.

But since I've got not very much to write and Donny (No it started off with Kenny first) initiated the tagging business (hmmm... why do I have this impression that they are getting profit outta this thing) I would graciously comply. (Donny I will get you for this.... grrrr....)

Ok! Here are 6 facts about me.

#1 - The Geek in Me.
I am quirky. Yes for some odd reason, I tend to like things that most people would deem weird. Example, I used to have this Van Gogh sunflower organizer way back in form one. (We didn't have things like fancy hand phones or mp3's to bring to school then so all things stationary, book bands, transparent pencil cases and fancy mechanical pencils were the rage then, oh and of course the organizer). Being the geek that I am, it was cool to be holding one. Most people would have the standard black ones and I have to go get a yellow flowery smaller than the average size ones to prove that I can be geeky but cool. Yeah it was cool all right. Well at least to me it was. But with the other 2987 population of the school body thinks that I have gone outta my mind. Oh well... At least mine still goes down in history as the ugliest or prettiest (that's my rendition) organizer. From that onwards, my taste in all things has just skyrocketed into weird animal print tube tops, orange jelly slippers that no one would be caught dead wearing and other quirky stuff that I think would be better off placed in the vault.

#2 Peas and greens
I have a thing about peas and broccolis. Ok this is a tad bit too much information, but I am going to write it anyway. When I was in Uni, there weren't many things that I like to eat in the dorm, one being their horrendous minestrone soup (that we all know is recycled from the previous day dinner of spaghetti) or that awful lamb pie or some other non gastronomical food that would want to literally put you in front of the toilet bowl with verbal and anal diarrhea, I'd have to resort to eating a lot of peas and broccolis to keep me full. Being the cheapskate that I am, that was the only bottomless food that is deem edible. I'd eat the whole plate of them since there is nothing else I could eat and would start having this farting and burping action thing going on. At first I thought about being at least considerate and polite about the whole thing, while excusing myself and fart in a corner or something, But then because my mates always hang out in my pad after dinner everyday, I figured, hey I can't be running out from my room every 5 minutes to fart. So I've resort do it in front of em and see a flood of 6 to 7 people moving out from my room for a good ol 3 minutes and they'd checked to see if the toxic smell has gone off. Yeah... So much for having the niceties of inviting your friends to your room and fart on em. Muahahaha but I like that too. Till this day at least there were no known casualties and I guess having my everyday dose of antidote does make all of em look younger than their actual age.

#3 My Memory Bank
I love to write on my journal. Yeah what to do, being a geek that I am and not having the most profound memory bank (what did I just say again) oh yeah, my journal writing... I'd record events, feelings and all the other Assam and Garam into that little piece of book called a journal. I'd refrain from using diary for it sounded too sentimental and I am trying to be a though chick here. Anyway, it always starts off as Dear Diary... And I'd start writing for hours. Not that my life is particularly interesting but sometimes I think I like to see the ink gliding through every white pages like it's some kinda icing on a cake. Yeah don’t' tell me, it's sick.

#4 Road Trip
I like to go on bus rides. Before I could afford a car way back then, the only form of traveling from point A to B was to 1) Beg your friends to drive you around 2) Threatened them to drive you if not they will encounter dreadful consequences 3) Try to come up with some sob stories so mom and dad would take pity on their only daughter who is utterly helpless and have them drive you around or 4) just take the damn bus. Save the worlds problems. So most of the time I'd end up taking the bus. Even made friends with the driver and he'd sometimes waive my bus ticket. Anyway, sometimes when I am feeling really bored or there are times when I need a breather, i'd just hop on a bus and go for joyrides. It was a cheap way to see the city.

#5 Family and Friends
I reckon family is your friends and your friends are your family. I am very closely connected to these two aspects in my life and I think it does help me form who I am today. (Ok bring out the Kleenex for the sentimental speech is coming right after the commercial break)... I want to thank my mother my father, my brother, my pet hamster, my neighbour and a couple of lousy friends (but I love em all) a big smooch on their cheeks!

#6 Others
There are so many other things that I am or I like or I dislike (ok this is not about tagging anymore, I've digressed beyond the normal boundaries) but I'll try to cramp random things I could think of. I love colours, lots and lots of em, don't ask me why, my profession asks for it and I am glad I happen to love colours, I love art though I can't paint nor draw for nuts but I can roughly doodle a peanut if you ask me to. I am into kittens and Maltese. Though I can't afford the ones I saw in Pets Wonderland, I love my beer ice cold and my latter warm and creamy. I love going to parks though the sun here can make you melt before you could even step out from your house, I love fashion, I love pop culture, but I love anything retro. Preferably anything from the 50's to the early 70's. I hate the 80's with shoulder pads and pineapple hairstyle yeah I think I shall stop here.

So there you go, I've finally managed to churn out a piece of incoherent ramblings on yet again a dowdy Monday morning. Gosh I need my nescafe!

I Never Write

I was looking at my screen while eating my curry puffs (as a matter of fact curry puffs I realized are actually quite healthy) and as usual reading other people's blogs and see what they have got to say on an otherwise very monotonous Tuesday working morning. Here I go again, it's my knack to make use of company's resources and harp on inconsequential things once again.

It made me thinking, is blogging the next big thing? Is it the new black as Tom Ford of Gucci used to say (or was it Prada, eh, I think it was that bloke in Petaling Street trying to sell me fake Gucci watches). Anyway, Blogging has become so common these days that everyone wants to have a go on it. I do. But the only thing is I can't seem to find anything interesting enough to write.

I'd much prefer to click on my bookmark tab and go at random on reading other people's blog instead of writing one on my own.

Yeah I am that selfish.

My pal Kenny Ng and Donny got a hang outta writing and they got hooked on blogging. I would see them writing at least something without fail everyday. While me, being the one who promoted blogging, writing, putting your thoughts down and all the other hoodlums would eventually just slither away preferring to read their blogs instead of writing one on my own. So much for promoting blogs and setting an example. Oh well, what the heck. But I am glad to see them being all enthusiastic and dedicated with their writing.

I on the other hand, gosh, I'd used to have a page called the Quack Page. Yeah I had this notion of thinking that I'd have a lot to say, but it turned out otherwise. When I open a page to write something (like for instance this one) my mind just turned putty. Or I am just to distract running around like a monkey. So I've decided since I'll be quacking elsewhere other than the PC, I'd rename it to the Lazy Blogger instead.

Yeah I am not just selfish but lazy as well.

I can't decide to write something funny, something serious or just retelling a scenario. Even when I've got something to say, my fingers would just not cooperate with my brain matter. So I've long decided to let that pass too.

But to those who have developed a knack of writing and getting regular readership from people, I have got great respect for all of you for that is something that I could not do for I find even the simplest task of lifting my fingers to type something is an arduous task.

So instead of babbling, I think I'll just save this post and do my quacking elsewhere. Eh did I just see the tea lady walking past.... "Eh Leeta, wait a minute, so as you were saying about your boyfriend the other day..."

Ok gotta go…

See... I can never sit still.

Cute As A Button

Oh I am so cute! Arrgh!

Just those terms irritates the hell outta me! How can a 29 year old still be cute? It’s totally absurd.

How do you define cute?

To most, it would mean it's size and that certain outlook. But why do some coin button as cute? What is so cute about a a device that is fastened on your clothes anyway?) Yeah buttons are small and tiny. So I guess you can link cuteness in it. Afterall most people preceive cuteness as something small and petite often round. (Ok I added the round part there to justify the shape of buttons). But to generalise all buttons as being cute is literally not correct too for I have seen some really ugly buttons but that is totally irrevelent to what I am writing today so I'll let it pass.

Can someone please tell me what's the first thing that comes to your mind when someone mention the word 'cute'? To most, it would mean it's size and that certain outlook.
But why do some coin button as cute? What is so cute about a a device that is fastened on your clothes anyway?)

According to Oxford Dictionary cute means: - ugly but adorable.

Yuck! I have a distinct impression that they are trying to coin cuteness with gremlins. Gremlins as we all know are cute cuddly creatures that look like a Pekingese before transforming into some hideous freak when comes in contact with water.

I’ve got an issue since the beginning of time. I am rather small (ok very small) in built and short and well lets’ say that most people who has met me would actually say that I look younger than my actual age. But does that make me cute?

Anyway, I've been coined as cute practically all my life. When I was a kid right up to now i have always known to be cute... Except for the brief moment in my adolecent years where I am also known as Her Royal Geek-ness but that's ok too for it was cool to be known as the intellectual then.

Ok back to the story... I remembered vividly when I was about 18 some friends of my mom came to visit. I had some college mates over too at the same time. Mom was upstairs and I had to open the door for her guest. Guess what they did? They took turns pinching my cheek (and there were all 4 grown women all together) and exclaimed “Ooooh, you are so cute….” And you don’t want to imagine the look on my mates faces.

They still torture me till this date.

The nerve-!

Their kids wil pay for it later... Or how I’d get heaps of fuzzy teddies and furry animals on my Birthday ( I still love you all who gave me that, afterall it's the thought that counts). But I don’t mind a couple of g-strings or so (no actually a cash voucher of RM1000 or an airplane ticket would be ideal ~ hint hint :P ), but teddy bears?

What for? I don’t have a child yet and even if I do by the time they are old enough to play with the toys their mother left them it’ll all be moth eaten. Ok back to the story…

Gosh just because I am small and don’t look my age it doesn’t make me look like a complete puppy. Puppies and kittens on the other had are cute. A baby is cute. But not a freaking 29 year old who is old enough to be someone’s mother! No…You do not term a person as cute when they are about to reach their 30s.

Gulp… Even my own man calls me cute and every time that happens I cringe.

Am I angry…?

I don’t' know... Perhaps you could bring me to the GP and have my blood pressure checked and then they'll be able to give you a more accurate reading. I guess if I am waiting for a compliment it would be gorgeous, hot or I don’t even mind beautiful.

But cute?!!!!

What the heck is cute?

It’s supposedly to be ACUTE ~ adj. an apethic (pathetic is more like it) form of acute. Or rather there is another one, cute means dainty or quaintly pleasing.

Gosh give me a break.

(Ok I am not angry, halfway gritting my teeth) It’s like having someone lift you up and so conveniently toggle you down again. At least Oxford is being more direct and less hypocritical. But...But...I don’t want to be cute (big eyes tearing with pouting lips).

Cute is ok when I you are 3. Not when you are in your LATE 20’s! Yes I’ve got an issue with that and I am aware that some of the people out there would give anything to be cute.

Trust me, guys are suckers for cute chicks. But think of it this way, would you still look cute when you are 80 and all wrinkly? Gosh I’ll be damn if a bloke would actually come up to me and tell me that I am still cute when I am 80. I reckon I’d most probably whacked him with my dentures and call him a pervert or something or I’ll bring him to the nearest optometrist and have his eyes checked or better still have him donate his perfectly good cornea to the blind.

The definition of cuteness has digressed beyond the norm. There is cute in attitude, cute in looks cute in basically any damn thing that is under the moon. Even a cow can be cute. It's all so overrated.

So instead I strongly suggest for gals out there who are trying to look cute even though you are not, I recommend you to think twice. Those who try or are still trying very hard to open their eyes wide to look helpless please I beg you to rethink because most people would just perceive you as either a weakling and who needs help or a retard who has lose eye sockets.
Some might disagree. After all which men out there would not actually jump to the slightest chance to help a damsel in distress?

Ooh I don' t know, you tell me. But for now, I am going to rouge my cheeks and put on a pouty quivering lips and walk down the streets like some Japanese (no pun intended - really) school girl and try to look all pure and innocent. But first, where the heck is my tartan chequered miniskirt. Damn.

Dream On...

I've got to stop taking irrelevant quizzes while at work. After all, they company do not and I repeat do not pay me to write silly articles for my own reading pleasure. I am supposed to visually entice my clients for their visual pleasure (*wink it's not what you think, though if I have the asset I might just as well…)

Kidding :)

For those who doesn't actually know what I do for a living, you can go figure or call me at 012******** for a good time… (I said enough already, no more naughty thoughts)

Ok I really have to stop digressing. If I do it one more time can someone please take a spatula and slap me silly? And I mean it. On second thought maybe not… After all you still need that spatula while you cook. So instead, can you please cook me something nice with that spatula and then hire a couple of Italian men (No I prefer Nordic men - Jude Law looking would be ok by me) to feed me? At least I'll die a happy (mad) woman if the cooking sucks... >_<

See I did it again. Rattling here like a mad woman with one cigarette on my left hand while trying to make out something intelligent. Unfortunately here is how my brains function... On Monday till Wednesday my mind is actually still stuck on the previous weekend. On Thursday I am actually doing something productive or at least I try and by Friday my mind is totally off work for I am thinking of what to do on the coming weekend.

Gosh…

If the company pays me to daydream, I'll be promoted the Vice President by now.

Hmm…

Perhaps working in the food industry (my current job) is not such a good thing since I realized my ultimate talent is to dream and daydream, I must well work for a job in Dreamland Mattresses.

Why?

First of all, they could put me in the R&D Department (R&D=Research & Development. In my case it's Relax & Dream).

My job?
I am paid to sleep. Yes you got that right. They pay me to sleep. As the name depicts, it's Dreamland! How would others know if the product is good if Dreamland does not have their own personal R&D department to make sure all their mattresses comply with its standards?
See that is why I am perfect for this job. They can never find another person so suitable to do the job.

I've also done a bit of research on their products.
Here are a few:

Sleepmaker - (sounds like what the American Indians would call their kids, Dreamwalker, Sleepover, Wind Sleeper...Gosh)
Luxuriance - (I like this one, makes me wonder if Sleeping Beauty did actually slept on one of these)
Aristocrat - (Your majesty, would you like to have some tea with scones? So British)
Chiropractic Series - (Hmmm ...Why do I have the impression that they are jabbing on my age)
Inner Spring - (kinky…*wicked grin)
Kids Series - (How lucky can kids get these days)
Foam, Fibre and Latex - (hmm…. Latex?)

The rest I noticed are just mattress with different fancy names. I reckon they are made with the same thing only giving it a different name. Like you make a sandwich you name it Tasty Tuna, Savoury Tuna, Tuna Extra and so on so forth. Heck! Its still tuna isn't it? Plus it still comes from the same freaking sea! So what difference does it make? (I just had sandwich for lunch so thought about adding this in for the ummph factor but honestly I am digressing again).

It's all made of rubber, foam and some other fibre (not to be confused with your daily breakfast cereal). I figured after a while of typing and looking around my colleagues, I think many people are actually eligible for this job. (Don't ask me why, you go back to your office and take a look around you after lunch and you'll know why).

Everyone's a natural Dreamland employee by then. So to stand out, I have another quality they do not have. (Hard Selling this time, my potential job is at stake)On my previous paragraph I did mention that it's all made out of the same material if not similar and that to be honest I don't care and neither do many of it's customers who are as dense as me but that also is besides the point. Did you notice the size? It's like wearing a T-shirt. No one complains that a T-Shirt is too big for you only when it's too small.

Here is where I come in…

Refer to product no#6 -Kids Series. (For some of you out there, who are trying to steal my potential job, think again)I bet you can't fit into the kid's series. But I can :P For once being short and small does have its advantages. I can fit into the biggest bed and the smallest there is for most of you out there who is now halfway trying to call Dreamland for your dream job you can put the receiver down. You can't fit into the Kids Series bed while I can. Sorry to break your heart dah-lings but that job is still mine. Muahahahaha.

Gosh this is heaven. This is better than dreaming about Italian guys feeding me grapes! Yoo Hoo…Ok behave… People are reading this… (If anyone is reading it at all at this point for they might actually be sleeping after reading the second lines of my inconsequential ramblings)God forbid (See I am also religious),

Drool, drool… Just thinking about it makes me want to hand in my resignation and head over to Dreamland Inc. to beg for a job. My selling point, I am dedicated, I work independently and I love my job so much I don't even mind putting in the extra hours. Ok let's say if I am hired (hallelujah!) ~

My work desk consists of a mattress. How cool is that… I don't even require a chair. I shall name it my matstation as oppose to workstation. I'll replace PCs and keyboards with pillows and comforters. Lunch breaks are not required for I'll be working so hard that I'll not even think about eating. I am more than willing to work for full 8 hours with no lunch break. I do not complain nor make any noise while at work. They don't have to worry about me making outgoing personal calls or take extra hours of lunch break (refer top). The only break I need I guess is that occasional toilet break (hey… everyone needs to relieve themselves once in a while even when they are sleeping ok?).

There are other reasons too why Dreamland should hire me other than the few obvious reasons. But of course now since I know I have such great potential to work for companies of these nature, I could start sending in my resumes not only to Dreamland, but there is Slumberland, King Koil, Sealy (not to be mistaken with Silly or Seal or anything of that sort) and others out there who will be dying to take me into their corporation.

Because of my immense talent I'll have the option to choose and reject which ever company I wish to join. And hopefully by then Dreamland might offer me even more benefits (other than monetary, although that would be most ideal - but we shall go to that on the next chapter) like futon and Egyptian cotton beddings and comforters lined with peacock feathers (huh?!!)
Ok my imagination's running overtime again. Time to smack myself silly and haul myself back to reality.

Sigh…

But that was a good thought! ^V^

well hung

Ok maybe the title wasn't as enticing as i thought. In fact it sounded kinda tacky, but hey who cares? It's my blog and i could write whatever i want to. The only problem now is, what in heavens am i going to write about?

Before opening this page i was thinking in line of writing something intelligent. Like a make beleive writer in search of some inspiration. Heck, and after gulping down my very huge mug of Nescafe and some crackers i am still stuck sitting here trying to compose something that i think people would gush and conclude my peice of write up as something that would win the Pulitzer Prize. Haha! Fat chance! I'd be lucky if i could muster enough vocab to fill up this page.

I didn't really want to stop writing after my first attempt. Ok topic topic, I am totally clueless whenever i am forced to write something and with no further adieu i will or this will go on forever until next year.

Every time i try to write something important out of all the other important topics in the world i noticed how my darn PC just stops functioning and i have to reboot. Trust me, rebooting your PC can be stressful, reason being, you literally have to lift your fingers up stop whatever you are doing, bend down while pointing your fingers to a 45 degrees angle and press the mini button at the bottom of your CPU. See that itself will save you RM155 for gym memberships. Why? Hey, that itself burns calories.

How?

First, when you realised that your PC hangs on you, your heart skips a beat. That is cardio. the as you lift your fingers up and attempt to bend down to push the button, and that itself you'd be doing push ups but because instead of using 2 hands to support your body, you'll be using only your index finger while the other hand would be hanging on to the table trying to balance your entire body. And while you're trying to locate that mini reboot button, you realised it isn't situated at the place you thought it would be. Hence you have to force yourself to get up and locate it. Nah... Too much work and effort.

I for one is a self proclaimed lazy bum. I worsip the guy who invented the remote control. I think he's (no gender related since i don't know who actually invented it) god gift. If only there is a remote control for laundry, clothes folding, washing the toilet or doing other chores by just a click of a button, do let me know. I'll be the first one to get em. That is if I could afford the price tag. Even if I can't I'll most probably rob the bank and get the dough to get that darn remote control.

Ok, the coffee is taking effect on my brains now. I don't even know what i am talking about let alone touch on the title i've so proudly and tackily named. So please don't ask me what relation it has to do with this piece of stuff you are reading as to the title.

All i know now is that if i could type all these lying down i would do it in a jiffy.

The joy of being Quirky...

Quirky?


Ok it's almost 9.30pm now on a rather unexciting Thursday evening. I am sitting here right in front of my computer trying to surf for cheap hotel rooms for my upcoming trip and at the same time trying to finish up my freelance job that has been lying around for the longest time. Though I am looking forward to the long awaited holiday I wasn't really in the mood to surf for hotel rooms. Firstly, when you are traveling on a budget, budget hotel rooms do not really appeal you. Hence your inner voice would tell you to click on something more appealing that you'll know you can't afford... So yeah, researching for cheap budget hotel rooms are no easy task. In fact it's downright depressing. So to make myself feel a little better, I went on completing my freelance... With the consolation that at least I am doing something productive.

Wrong!

The moment I opened the art files, I let out the most humongous yawn ever in the face of humankind and seriously I am not joking. If I have a measuring tape it'll stretch from the Atlantic Sea right up to the South China Sea.
My next attempt is to check my friendster account to see if anyone is nice enough to drop me a message. Darn, nothing. Went on looking at other people's profile and continued doing that for several times till I let out another whale of a yawn. (Literally speaking) while Carol King is singing "Natural Woman" over the radio.

This made me have a go to write something about an article I read not too long ago... (Gosh finally I am getting to the point why this thing is being written)... "You make me feel; you make me feel like a natural woman..." I could hear Ms King crooning way back there. Wow, what a song. Don't get me wrong, I am no power Oprah nor am I Hillary Clinton. In fact I am far from those two icons.

Ok pull me back please... This thing can go on forever if I don't get to my point...
The article (yes finally finally am getting somewhere) that I read is called "Quirky Alone". For those who know me for a while now know that I've been single since the Jurassic period... Why? Don't ask me... I was trying to figure that out myself for the longest time.
At one point I asked myself, if there is something really wrong with me... But of course, my main worry is not about not being able to get a man... It more of a case as to why am I am not interested in getting one. (Ok, some of you might conclude, oh yeah same case scenario, she's a closet case). Gosh, I love men. In fact I adore them. But to be committed to one is as good as asking me to bungee jump without a string attached. It's suicidal.
No way.

Then this article came along written by SASHA CAGEN, titled "Quirky Alone". Some might ask, what in the name of god is she babbling about this time... Ok let me explain...

Definition of Quirky -
Quirkyalone: noun/adj. A person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple.

That statement itself hit me like a rock. This is exactly like me. It was as if Sasha herself was talking to me. It was the answer to my prayers (ok I am not religious but thought it'll add bulk to my statement). And to add bulk to the article they even come with a quiz of some sort to determine if you're really a quirky alone and I scored 98%.
So that precedes me to reading further what all this quirky business is all about... I shall not dwell further on this, for those who are interested to know more you can log in to www.quirkyalone.net to actually know what i am ratlling about.
Ok back to the quirky business... I was so excited that I forwarded the article to Donny my buddy just to prove my point and threatened him to agree that I am indeed a Quirky Alone.
Poor chap.

I ended up spending the entire day (while still at work using the company resources, its air condition, a cuppa Nescafe and internet connection) surfing for more information on my new discovery. And for once in a very long time I felt like I am really doing something exciting at work. But of course it was totally un-work related.
But that's ok too.

The more I read the more unconsciously nodding my head like the springy doggies where you stick at your dashboard. And I thought being quirky is weird.
In fact after going through the whole in depth list of quirkiness, I am proud to announce that I am quirky. The only difference is, I am no longer a QuirkyAlone but to add to another addition, I am a "Quirky Together" now...
And I am glad. :)

Quirky together: The state of being that results when a quirky alone enters a long-term romantic relationship.