And As Our Lives Changed

The finality of it just hit me.  It was the only last few straws of memories I had with them and the fact that it all went to dust just shows how futile it was in the first place.  I wasn't prepared for it although it was hovering in the subconscious edge for a long time.

There was Nani, Yati, Bib, Ain and Me.  We're the only ones Yati managed to contact and brought together.  It was fun in the initial days and countless discussion session on a group meeting which never took place.

But still, we clung on. Despite everyone being busy with their own lives, there will be the occasional shout-outs and a round of banter will take place.  And then total silence.  Months later, someone will say something and another round will take place.

I never get the courage to ask permission from the husband about meeting them.  The first time I brought it up years ago, he shot rounds of immature, hurtful questions that I just couldn't be bothered to voice it out again.

I am not going to dwell about it today because I did after all, marry a 10-year old boy trapped in a man's body.  It was always his friends, his group, his interest, his hobbies, his likes, his dislikes.  Am not sure if I am proud to say that he has no inkling about me and that if I ever existed before I met him.  

It's the guilt in me that somehow makes the crumbling of this group seemed even more painful today.  

It started with Nani leaving the group first.  Bib followed many months later.  Yati left not long after and that's when Ain and I had this last conversation.

And just like that, I found myself all alone, facing the silent wall.  This time, there was no one in "group info".  No status of their situations.  No one behind the wall to assure me that everything is going to be alright and that we will meet again some day.

The finality of the situation hit me and I just cried.  I bawled my eyes out because I was too chicken shit to save it.  

It was the final link I had to those days of carefree madness.  The happy moments, locked away and never to to be experienced ever again.  The final closure to that phase of youth and a reminder to us that we have no choice but to move on...

...and as our lives changed

from whatever

we will still be

friends forever....

And So It Happened..

Something amusing happened over the weekend.

The day started humdrum enough with the usual soccer session for the boys in the morning.  I didn't bother dressing up and the darling daughter spent the entire morning amusing herself with rolling all the soccer balls in the mud.  After the session, the husband decided to walk around in town.

Yes, town.

The boys were togged in only their training outfit sans boots, slippers flip flopping and the girl with the lower half of her body stained with goodness knows what after her own training session in the mud.

We stopped for prayers (and cleaned ourselves up) at the mosque in the middle of Orchard Road. Matin made do with an available sarong to cover his shorts and Diyana, surprisingly behaved well beside me while I performed my dues.

Obligations done, we crossed the road, entered the swanky Paragon shopping centre and lo and behold, found ourselves in front of a high end store.

I was hinting about it for the longest time but I have never hoped that it will actually happen.  I mean, the probability of this thing happening is as likely as a cat growing horns.  But then again, who can deny the arrangements of fate?

We entered.  Yes, we did.  Me and the bunch of rag tags flopping ourselves at the first available couch like we own the place.

They greeted us.  Nicely.  I'm not sure if they're told to be discreet but I kept telling myself - hey, they just worked there.  Commission might be peanuts and they're all living in a HDB somewhere, so they have no right to judge.

But seriously, I was taken aback by the friendly greetings.  

Me on the other hand pretended, like I know what I wanted and used my 'atas' English just to see if I can get away with it.  I shouldn't have bothered.  Ended up purchasing a bag and although I knew it's at a killer price, I just stubbornly refused to let myself regret that purchase.  Just bring it baby.  I'm just surprised at myself for handling the surreal situation like a real pro.

There was a slight glitch when they said that they didn't have Nets.  Well, of course they didn't have Nets.  They didn't even have a cashier!  I should have suspected it when there were no price tags on their items. So much for handling the situation like a boss.

Anyway, they accepted debit cards and the nice sales rep told me to wait on the couch while she glided away somewhere to test out my card.  Glitch number two.  "Sorry ma'am but there is a limit to your card, perhaps we can use two cards, yours and your husband's to facilitate this transaction".  I have to give her credit for being so polite and discreet.

The husband was explaining to her about 'privacy', 'protection' and 'security'. Like a pro.

After the purchase, they let us through the doors ringing out 'thank yous' and 'goodbyes'.  It was not until we hit the streets when I was struck by the hilarity of the entire situation.

I just bought an obscenely expensive handbag, dressed in my marketing garbs, dragging my kids who looked like they really need a good shower and enjoying the situation with nary an ounce of regret.  It was wrong but comfortably right at the same time.

I'm still smiling.

Show Off

Am sad
Very sad

No! I'm not sad
I'm furious.
Angry.  
In fact, I'm hoppin' mad.

She was a good person.  She was there when I needed someone to talk to.  She helped me financially when I'm in need.  She's smart and works hard for her family.

I was rooting for her to complete her diploma part time to upgrade herself.  I know she's smart and she's one of the best performers in her batch.  It must have been in her genes because her sons are equally smart too.

Thing is...

I have not been promoted for the past 14 years.  I have reached my level ceiling and have been rotting ever since.  I don't want to complain as I have been "languishing" these past few years, rejecting projects and opportunities as I can see that I will not be able to commit 100% on it.  I just had a new baby and what with every thing on my shoulders, be it at home and work, I just don't have enough time to chase new projects to earn a good appraisal and a reason for promotion.

In a nutshell, I am aware of my limitations and I do not regret one bit.  I am thankful for what I have for the time being.

She on the other hand had just completed a diploma.  What with emplacement and stuff, she end up at Grade 6 with one more year of increment to go before hitting the ceiling and joining the ranks of rotting corpse like me, unless she gets a promotion to Grade 5 which will be another story.

And so I spent the entire year consoling her and telling her to be patient and wait out the year for another increment.  I comforted her when she was down and complained that her bosses will not consider a promotion for her.  I was there for her emotionally when she wanted to resign as she was disappointed with the 'system'.

Until I had a text from her one morning..and that was when I started simmering..steaming ...boiling...

Let me get something straight.  If her boss would come down and ask me if she deserved a promotion. I would be the first person to say a resounding "Yes".  She deserves it, she worked hard for it and yes, she better get promoted to Grade 5.  But something was not quite right the minute I got the text.

She: Eh, check out the new payslip.  The pay is slightly more this month
Me: No...I checked my bank online at 2am last night, still the same amount.
She: Cannot be.  It's slightly more.  You go have a look.
Me: If the payslip says more, than why is my account the same as any other month?
She: Strange..

(This is when it gets a bit annoying because she was insisting and I was getting irritated because I was on leave and in the supermarket trying to weigh the cauliflower while lugging a bag of diapers in one hand and trying to text her at the same time)

Me: There will not be any increment if you hit ceiling.  Unless you get promotion because April is the increment month for our organisation.
She: But I get $175 more this month.
Me: You mean you already got promoted?
She: No ..that was last year.
Me: ?What? I don't understand.
She:  I got promoted to Grade 5 last year.  My first boss put me up for it.  My second boss did not approve but my first boss fight for it.
Me: (Fingers trembling) Then, it means you get your increment.  So from now on, you will get $175 every April till you hit Grade 5's ceiling.
She: Oh.
Me:  (Delete Conversation)

Did I tell you she was smart?  She knows everything before everybody else. She reads all the circulars, so of all the things she should be aware about would be what an increment means.  

I was numb for the rest of the day.  I am not jealous.  Far from it.  I was shocked that throughout the time when she was 'down' I was the one telling her to be thankful and take to it easy when all this while, she already got that promotion.

I felt like someone had stabbed my back and twisted the knife. Hard.

It's like when you get 10/100 for your maths test and your friend sitting next to you knows that you flunked the test and she comes to your desk, flinging her 98/100 test paper down and go "Why do you think I cannot get 100 huh?  What do you think?".  

Or when your supermodel-bodied friends paraded their dress in front of you at the department store and threw "I look so fat" "Does this makes me look huge?" statements at you who looks like a water buffalo in almost everything.  

I am not envious.  This is far from being jealous because jealousy is when I worked harder than her and she gets it instead.  

I felt cheated, embarrassed, humiliated.  The text is like telling me "Hey, this is just telling you that I will get more money from now on and I'm just feigning ignorance because I don't know how else to tell you that I finally got that promotion".

That's it.

Guess I won't be lunching with her anytime soon.

The 20th Bash

Ok, so the organisation I worked for is celebrating it's 20th anniversary this year. We've come a long way. Geez, even yours truly have come a long way. When I joined the institution as a student 20 years ago, in awe at the very thought of going to school smack dab in the middle of town, little would I know that I'd end up where I am now. Maybe it's the fact that I just refused to let go. Holding on to that piece of memory that is '925'. But that's another dimension. A path I refused to dwell on as we both have moved on in life and I doubt if he still remembers my name anyway.

And so I joined the institution after I graduated, working quietly at the corner until I became the jaded civil ass that I am now. I used to go to the annual D&Ds. My first D&D back in Nov 94 was fun. The theme was tropical something. I wore the dress my mum made me for work. It's a Jackie O cut midi with huge prints of fruits on them. Nope I don't wear power suits to work. My classmate (I was taking part-time night classes at that time) lend me a huge straw hat and I stuck a huge fake sunflower on it. While some of my colleagues chose the very safe 'black dress' to attend the function, I ended up looking like a fruitcake. Needless to say, my gamble paid off because I got the second prize for best dressed. Hurrah.  Anyway, I was one out of the 5 people who followed the theme. Me being obedient because I don't really have money to buy a kickass black dress back then.

The second D&D was interesting. The theme screams "International". This time, I had gained somewhat of a reputation since last year's fruitcake sure-win dress, and everyone expected me to dutifully follow the theme. I opted for a safe black dress instead because I just wanted to eat my sweet & sour prawn, maybe get a lucky draw and go home.

By the third D&D, I get the drift. The same crowd of men at the front table will get drunk before 9pm and made complete asses of themselves by the third course, the MCs get less funnier as budget decreases, the Malays usually get the lousy tables (either behind a pillar or at the far corners - we can't even see the stage) and the sight of old men dancing to Ace of Base "All That She Wants" just makes you want to give up that last spoon of fried rice they usually serve as the last course. And I never get lucky in lucky draws. Really. The big prices go out to rich officers who can afford a gazillion flat screen TVs. Why on earth do they get to WIN another one! Why??

As for our table arrangements, I was told that they are such so that it's easier for the waiters to serve us halal food because there was only a handful of us. I've never really minded these arrangements but it totally pisses me off when, one time, I disappeared for a while to visit the toilet (it was cold!) and when I came back, my prawns were whisked away by the ever efficient waiter. WTF! I came here for the prawns man...I was gone for like what? 5 minutes?

And that was it. I didn't attend any D&D after that.

Then I met the hubby and it's always been his company's D&D from then on. It's free and I don't have to make small talk. I just make my appearance as 'the wife', enjoy my fake shark fin soup, pretend to understand his drunk -assed colleagues jokes and go home.

Now, let's come back to this year. 2012. The reason for this whole blog page. The organisation that I worked for have seen so many changes including having a bi-annual D&D instead of having it done annually. Not that I've attended any ever since that prawn incident back in 1996.

This year, they're calling it "Oscar's Night" and will be staged at the very grand Resorts World at Sentosa. The minute we get the memo (ok, email), I was going hmm, black tie, sexy evening gowns, glamorous hair-dos, red carpets, the works - very, very interesting. For a fee, we can have our make up and hair done. Wow! All you need is a Vera Wang dress or maybe that Bvlgari vintage necklace worn by Keira Knightly at the real Oscars.

.

.

.

.

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Then somewhere along the way, someone got very confused. Beside the tabs for "hair styling" and "makeover" there is "costume rental'. Ok. Maybe it's an honest typo. Surely they mean "evening gown rental" right? We don't refer to gowns as costumes, do we? Apparently, I didn't read the memo correctly. We are to come dressed to the nines and as a movie character.

What(?!). If they're thinking Marilyn Monroe (in that famous white dress - yes the one with the air vent billow thing), then, at least it's ok. It is still a dress. But what if I want to come as Wonder Woman? Am I supposed to arrive in that star spangled bustier and sit in the cold hall eating my sweet and sour prawns and hoping I'd win best dressed? What if someone did come as the Incredible Hulk? He'll catch a freakin' cold for gods sakes. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him because unknown green substance may be difficult to scrub off if you're wearing that Marilyn Monroe dress. And don't get me started on his yellow teeth - uber gross.

I mean, have the organisers seen the oscars? No one wears costumes to the oscars, unless you're the entertainment. I have a feeling that they'll be handing out those mini statues of oscar (from the souvenir shop at New York's area inside the Universal Studios) for "best drunk-before-the-third-course" or "best butt kisser".

Whatever lah. I'm not attending. It's heavily subsidised at $25 a piece. But hubby need to pay $100. Then where am I supposed to put the kids? Under the table? $100 on hubby's ticket can give him more than enough to eat at Royal Scott's Carousel buffet.

And not that I can get a guaranteed promotion if I attended this event anyway.

*sour puss face...*

Out of Us

I probably shouldn't be so pissed off by it. Heck, it's not even in my place to comment. I have no right but I just can't help bitching about it.

It's been years and we have our own lives now. We have drifted so far apart, the only memories left are the bunch of photographs at the bottom of the shoebox of us cam-whoring (oh yes, back in those days when you actually have to purchase a reel of film to take photographs) at every outing we had together. A typical outing being taking bus number 7 from Clementi Interchange to Orchard Road, walk from one end to another, stop at McDonald's (Fillet, small coke, small fries, apple pie/chocolate sundaes (depends on how much allowance we managed to save that week by starving during recess), take the bus back home and be in the house by 7pm like obedient, little girls. But that's another trip down memory lane.

We don't have perfect stories to tell but let's just say that among the 3 of us, perhaps Vin got the best deal. But then again, I have not seen her for the past 10 years, so I wouldn't know how her life turned out to be. Last I heard she's got 4 kids but at least her husband's working a full time job.

Ida was the oldest among us (by mere months). She got married first. I was sceptical of the union but she was happy so we let her have her bubble and practically dropped out of her life. It didn't work out. After 10 childless years, she suffered a miscarriage, went through an emotionally painful process of getting her womb removed, divorced and almost driven to bankruptcy by that no good M*&^ F$#*& asshole husband of hers. Still, she's the smartest among us and probably earned a higher annual income than me and Vin put together. Well, Vin's annual income would be practically zero because she was and still is (?) a full-time housewife and my income tax returns would probably look pathetic next to Ida's. Anyway, that's not why I'm scratching an itch here.

I caught Ida on Facebook. The ultimate people finder. Well, she caught me because I was using my Real name. I mean how the hell am I supposed to figure out that TweLooP lOaplooa125 used to sit beside me during History back in 1988? But, I digress.

We were practically cyber-jumping up and down after we added each other. And then I realise why it's really such a bad idea. Number 1, the husband who wanted me to be on facebook will never, ever be comfortable around my friends. So that means no gatherings over coffee, no tete-a-tete at a local joint or a rendezvous with 'the girls' or anybody from my past before the turn of the century. Yes, that's right. I am an alien with no past, no history, no friends and no family. My husband made sure of that. It has always been his friends, his family, his past and his stories. My coming in would be too much. My greatest fear is to meet anyone (classmates, tuition mates, school mates, postman's mates, the local bakery owner's sister) on the streets when I'm out with him. After a few stilted exchange of how-do-you-dos and him flashing his fake smile he would turn to me and say "eww, so ugly/fat/hideous" or whatever negative word of the moment that comes to mind as if he's Mr Perfect Pants himself.

Again, I'm derailing.

Ok, before I crash, the reason I'm Miss Itchy Bitchy today is because of Ida's life. I don't envy her one bit. She has the rottennest (really - there is such a word, go look it up) luck. It's not her fault seriously because things just didn't happen for her. Our preteen years saw us growing into full blown women together but while Vin got the looks, Ida got the brains and I was the glue that held us together, I thought I would be the one having issues today. I mean, I was the last one to have sex for crying out loud!

Geez, I should stop straying...urgghh..

So Ida and I resumed our long lost friendship by texting each other during our busy lives. It was not long before she told me about her new husband. I was about to congratulate her on her newfound freedom from Asshole Hubby #1 when she dropped the bomb. I was like "what?!" After what Number 1 did, you'd think she would learn her lesson by now.

Her excuse this time was her mom didn't want her to live life alone and refused to have her in her house. Huh?! (Her first marriage excuse being : "I can't say no because the entourage came all the way from Toa Payoh" )

So she got married. Again.

Maybe, I mean, I can understand about the whole "we need sexual release too" theory but that is a lousy reason to get married again. it's like coming out from the lion's den and into the crocodile's mouth. Husband #2 was, again, not what she bargained for. She's a pathetic bargainer. Seriously. A smart girl who always gets the lousy guys because she lets them rule her life. The same can be said of me but I'd be telling my life story instead.

Ida and I are a full-blooded testament of an emotionally abused wife. We have a lot in common - really. But I thought she would've found her piece of heaven by dissecting herself from Asshole Husband #1. I mean, I would be practically swimming in my own cloud of heavenly freedom from such an ass myself.

But no, she has to fall for another asshole. Hard.

Ok, Husband #2 topped the looks department. Compared to #1 who is downright ugly - like seriously and is a (did I say it just now?) pompous ass, Husband #2 looked fairly decent - if you're into those boyish-aged-very-well type. He has 2 kids from a previous marriage and is still paying maintenance to an equally hard-assed ex who demanded more everytime they crossed path (which is quite often).

So here we have my poor friend, already suffering from post-divorced trauma found herself saddled with:-

(1) Asshole Husband #1's credit card debts (under her name of course)
(2) Getting laid off from work and then having to earn half her usual salary from her current job
(3) Settling Asshole Husband #2 debts
(4) Settling Asshole Husband #2 unpaid taxi rentals (He used to drive cabs)
(5) Paying Banks for current debts
(6) Paying friends for current debts
(7) Paying for the car (it's not even an off-peak car)
(8) Paying Child Maintenance of Asshole Husband # 2's kids. WTF? !!? it's not even her own kids for goodness sake!

But she appears happy. So I am happy for her but I still think he (who shall not be named) is the happier one because he's literally shooting fishes in a bucket. This was before she started whining and complaining about that particular man in her life. I wanted to snap at her but all I felt was pity. I mean, we all make mistakes. Me included. But at least I have my kids to distract myself with if all that life can give me right now is kickass sex which is not very often but I should at least be thankful.

Anyway what made me snap is when I saw pictures of him (we're still talking about Asshole Husband #2 here) in front of Big Ben, London Bridge, the Coloseum, every other stadium in Europe and anywhere else that you only get to see on postcards, the internet and 100 places you want to see before you die.

Generally, I don't go mad at holiday photos plastered all over my FB newspage. I'm not a jealous person per se. I'm terified of flying. But I know that they're not on holiday with Ida's current paycheck. They don't even own a house here (they currently leave in a rented apartment in JB because with Ida's income and his NO income, the bank records don't look too good).

Ida's job required her to go on business trips and travel to Europe for seminars and meetings. She is good at it. Her post divorce pictures consists of happy smiles in front of that stadium housing Arsenal Football Club.

Somehow, that smile didn't quite reach her eyes during the last three (three??!!) trips there. She did mentioned after that first post marriage business trip that they only had bread and sometimes skip meals because they're literally broke. I understand. Ida normally have to fork out her own money first before she comes back home and wait for the company to reimburse her expenses.

So while he's there posing with Big Ben and the National Guards and generally literally shouting to everyone back home (especially the hard-assed ex) that "I WAS HERE!!!", my poor friend has to slave at the hotel room doing her report and generally working her ass off and coming home to a reimbursement of HALF her expenses there. What? You think the company is going to foot her husband's bills and fare trip as well? What were you thinking?!!

The second trip is even better. She footed her husband's fare PLUS her two step sons' as well. I was literally crying for her. Oh he can go all holier-than-thou and spout goodness quotes on his status (eg, Just want to show the kids that the caucasions are not necessarily superior and that we should embrace the culture of others bla bla bla)- honestly how vomit inducing can one get?

With Ida's current financial situation, you'd think that he would have the brains to let her go on the trip alone. Afterall, she was the one who put food in his stomach, a roof over his head, and paid for the car through her nose. But no, he has to tag along. He has to be there and show off that 'he can go to all these places" in his facebook wall. He was not encouraging when Ida wanted to quit her job because he secretly love the trips abroad.

I may be shooting through my foot here but I felt utterly helpless at the whole situation. My friend, like me, let the men in our lives rule us. We became their puppet, bowing to their every whim. Working our assess off because all the nice guys are taken and we're too ugly to be choosy.

Everytime he posted pictures of them in their wall (they share the same FB account - thus my decision not to post anything at their wall) and to the special places for their meals (extra special if the 2 sons came along), my heart would break at what Ida will be getting on her bill because of course, she will be the one to PAY! But i can understand where she's coming from. Unable to bear a child, she showers her attention to 2 late teenagers. I just wish those boys know how to repay back Ida's kindness. She deserves much more that the shit thrown at her every other day.

The Spirit Lives On

I was fooling around with my iphone one afternoon when I decided to google and type flash mob for no apparent reason. It led me to several flash mobs across the world where people were dancing to Michael Jackson's Beat It or Thriller in celebration of what would be his 51st birthday. It was heart warming at best watching everyone in the streets dancing using the same routines that made the King of Pop what he is today. You see them, young and old doing that "deck-of-card" routine with their right hands which was so cool back then and still look good today.

Then You Tube being as it is, led me from one type of flash mob to another. The freeze frame (not flash mob) at a supermarket in Manchester had me laughing hard at the comments. It ranges from "freaky" to "50 people just completed the world record for not blinking". Then you have the MC Hammer "U can't touch this" mob at a store in LA, Sunset Boulevard, where suddenly, these people appeared in Hammer's trademark gold 'you-can-stuff-ten-live-chickens-in-'em pants. After like a few minutes, they disappeared as suddenly as they came. It was epic! Well, the comments from TheYULiberator sums it all best "Holy shit that was awesome where's they a...hey where'd all our inventory go?" LOL.

The afternoon wore off with me glued to my iphone. Then I came across teacher's flash mobs across the US. It was fun watching all these teachers performing in front of their unsuspecting students during assemblies, pep rallies, half time matches, and such. While going through clip after clip of videos, I discovered something vaguely familiar in their routines and song selections. I don't know. Maybe in one of their annual meetings or so, all the high school principals were ordered by the ministry to organise flash mobs at their respective schools. Something about getting together and embracing the school spirit etc.

What got me though is, like I said, the routines and song selection. The workout was at best, repetitive because a school in the west coast will have the same move as a school on the other end of the country.

Anyway, nevermind about the choreography, I'd like to applaud the song selections though. Most of them would have these amongst others in their playlist:

Katy Perry - Firework
LMFAO - Party Rock
Taio Cruz - Dynamite
Beyonce - Single Ladies

But my personal favourite is St Charles North teachers' flash mob. It's not exactly perfect sync-wise, and the students didn't really jump up and start dancing on the bleachers but I guess from the appreciative cheers that followed when group after group of teachers ran to join the few on the court speaks for itself . They started off with Dynamite, Poker Face and a slew of today's hits. Of course the whole gym hit the roof when after a half millisecond lull, We no Speak Americano's catchy tune came on and they broke into yet a new dance routine.

Again, it was heart warming watching them dancing to the tune of today's generation. The younger ones would still be clubbing and raving so it's easier for them. It's the older ones who have longed since abandoned their tea-dance days, that took the effort and time away from families and tight schedules to help put these together that deserved to be applauded. They must have sacrificed a lot, just to bring a smile to their students' faces. Most detractors would say they're just humiliating themselves and that they stooped so low to be accepted by today's youth. But then again, we beg to differ. I mean if I were part of that group, I would be proud of myself. So what if I've gained a butt the size of Alaska after all those years "moulding the future of the nation". If it's time to wiggle it, I would.

I'm just wondering if on the teaching application form in future, it would include 'able to dance' as one of the criteria apart from my impressive degree-with-merit in Human and Social Biology. But from the videos uploaded, I can see that all of them were having fun doing it and whether they chose to believe it or not, perhaps their objectives to come together and embrace the school spirit would've already gotten them a big red A+ to boot.

Of Class 3 Driving License.

I got my class 3A driving license 5 years ago. I was co-erced into it. The hubby killed my passion 10 years ago just because I passed the final theory and he failed. Then 2 years down the road when he passed, he slow-talked me into taking the dreaded test again.

Of course by that time, my Final Theory has expired, all fiery passions have gone and I was as resentful as ever. Especially since the MIL has forked out $2000 cash for me to "chase my dreams". I didn't really have the heart to tell her that my dreams consisted of nightmares involving me driving naked around the circuit and failing the practical test because I use the poles that guide the parallel parking thing to hang my laundry - hence the driving naked bit.

Oh, the final theory? That's chicken feed. I aced it the second time round as I thought I could. It's the practical test that I'm worried about.

So I coudn't sleep for weeks leading up to the dreaded day. I was afraid I'd fail. Failure means more money to fork out because there'll be an extra 6 lessons to go through and the test fees as well. Failure would mean enduring the noise that would emit from the hubby who will never let me hear the end of it.

Anyway, I passed with 14 points. Ok. fair enough although the tester seemed unhappy at me for passing because all he said when he handed my results was "Pass", then added gruffly "Drive carefully hor.."

That was an experience I didn't wish to repeat again. However, for all the co-ercing, holier than thou barking he did whenever I reverse-parked too slowly, or his constant nagging over my driving, my husband actually let me have the steering wheel. Although I did tell him that I will not drive if I can help it with him within the confines of the car. I'd rather drive alone. After all these years, he accepted it. He even accepted it when I said "I'm not driving if you're going to spoil my day". So, at least there's a quiet agreement there. But somehow I'm lucky that I can at least touch the steering wheel.

It doesn't seemed the same to two of my friends.

Friend "A" had her license for years but have not even set foot on the pedal. Not once. She only said one word when I asked and that is "phobia". She ever called one night asking if I'd like to go to work with her the next day because her hubby is not working so no one is sending her to work. I thought she's giving me a lift since the car will not be used by hubby.

But no, nothing of that sort. I am to be her 'kaki' because she got no friend to take the bus with her to work. Hello..I take the bus to work everyday and I go alone. I don't need to set up a date to "go to work together" unless of course I'd get lost because I'm so used to sitting primly on the passenger side of the car that I forgot how to walk alone.

Friend "B" had hers a few years before mine but after her stories about her adventures at the driving circuit and finally having the license to her name, she has not so much as touched the steering wheel - yet.

This same friend smirked at me when I said I drove to work (sometimes because i have to - yup, kena forced again) because she kept preaching the I-prefer-to-take-public
transport-because-it's-cheaper-and-I'll-reach-home-faster" theory. I'd rather call it "jealousy"....*whistles*

Both friends have something in common. Their hubbies fetch them to and from work. And I have a strong hunch that both friends are financing their cars out of their own paychecks as well which is sad because it's like you're buying the cake but you couldn't eat it.

Friend B had it a step further. When speed traps kept capturing her car plate number because her hubby likes to drive fast - I mean really fast and hubby's points are close to suspension, that's when her license came into full use.

Her name is used and she got the demerits. No points for guessing who insisted on Friend B to take her driving license in the first place. How clever! She didn't have to bother about remembering everything taught in driving school because she will never get to sit on the driver's seat. Ever. How convenient! Although she didn't exactly tell me about "taking the license out of convenience" bit, the part about her undeserved demerits is enough and I'm damn sure I'm close to my theory.

Oh, Friend B did mention that she will eventually drive, like, in an emergency.

Huh? You know, if it's an emergency, I'd hail a cab and rely on the driver to take me to, say, the hospital directly in front of A&E in super record time. In an emergency, I couldn't be frantically driving in a panic along the expressway (on a dark, stormy night!!) and dumping my passenger to find his/her way in the A&E while I swear and curse around the parking lot trying to find a decent spot. Oh please, be logical. I know I'm stupid but not that stupid.

Another friend (who drives) did mention that men are selfish creatures sometimes. They forgot who helped them to finance their dream cars and refused to let their wives drive.

They're too lazy to re-adjust the seats and mirrors. They'll be too busy wondering if their scatterbrained wives would leave the internal lights on and waste batteries. They'll be wondering if the wives would mess the car's mileage (and value) although it's only for a short trip to the local petrol station to pump a few litres more because there happened to be an islandwide petrol discount that day. Their egos would be bruised to the point of bleeding if their friends saw them in the passenger seat or god forbid, sitting there helplessly while wifey tried to do a three point turn at a small 2-way lane behind Joo Chiat complex.

It's a lot alike in a way. This wife bullying. Some obvious, some not so glaring. But still, it's how you make of the situation and how you deal with it that's important. An ustaz once said that God test us because He knows we're strong. The test will make us stronger. The tears is for us alone and it cleanses our soul.

So to the girls out there, stay strong because the guys may crow that we're the weaker sex, but technically, they don't know shit about giving birth, juggling 10 different things at the same time and giving up everything just to save their boyfriends'/husbands' butts.

Being Fat and Lovely

Miss M, yes the office foghorn albeit an innocently sincere one, is being funny today. She commented that I've put on weight over the festive season. Never mind that the festive season refers to Chinese New Year and I'm not really close to being chinese for that matter, let alone have a reason to stuff my face during a reunion dinner gathering (I have reunion any other nights with my own family thank you very much). It's just her way of saying that I'm fat.

I stroke my protruding belly pointedly and said dreamily "Yes, it's 4 months now".

She goes, "oh, you've been over-eating for 4 months?, Wah, you eat quite a lot yah..."

I was like "I have to eat or else I'll be like the very gay Merlion over the Singapore river with my head down the toilet bowl before every meal".

She went (again) "Yah, but you really put on weight leh, especially at the stomache"

Me: Of course I've put on weight. It's 4 months already.

Then somehow along the lines of blur and reality she goes "oooohhhh, you mean you're pregnant ar?"

Me: ??!!

She: Aiyah..I see all those uncles at the coffee shop eat until their stomache so big but never give birth

Me: Auntie, hello, those uncles eat and drink stout until they burst. Of course all the fat run to the belly lah..We're women you know, all the fats go all over the place, not just the stomache.

She: How I know?..I'm not married mah...

Somewhere along the row of cubicles, someone snorted. Must be June. I was right. June was the same age as Miss M, and unmarried too. But she's as different to Miss M as a bar of snickers to a plate of stale cookies.

Miss M has been alive for like 55 years and she can't differentiate between a pregnant woman and a fat one but I don't blame her. She is innocently ignorant but if only she can keep her voice down. The way she speaks sometime, although ridiculous makes most of us torn between cringing into our shoes and banging our heads against the wall. Oh and the loud voice is not helping either...

When in Rome

10 Useful Tips - Living in Splendid JB

1) Always stay humble. Pride always comes before a fall.

2) Smile. It doesn't cost anything and it exercises your facial muscles.

3) Do not rush and show your impatience expecially in a que.

4) Never flaunt. They know you're from the island down south based on how you speak and how you dress and oh! how you fill up your shopping cart(s) to overflowing.

5) Never compare prices aloud. If you want to check out the prices using your exchange-rate app in your swanky new iPhone4, do it discreetly.

6) Always rebuke the kids when they start complaining about slow internet connections. Tell them "This is not back home lah!..so suck it in".

7) When they say the Chicken Rice is "Sold Out", it means just that - Sold Out. Nevermind the 3 roasted chicken left hanging at the display counter. Those could be unsellable or god forbid, uneatable. So always count your blessings.

8) Always signal when you want to switch lanes. It's polite. And it also shows that you actually learn something from Bt Batok Driving Centre.

9) Always greet the immigration counter staff when you travel in and out with your MACS-ed passport. Although there's no shortcut que but hello, it's basic courtesy lah dey.

10) If your relatives or friends got wind of your long-term stay there and pass you their lists of "things to buy and tapau back" , tell them to 'wait long-long'. The RM$10 baju butterfly you bought from Giant Hypermart is for your personal use only.

Mid-life ramblings

It's a good thing I didn't buy a domain for this. I'd be dead broke. Not that anyone read what I post. I'm not that witty a writer anyway.

But it sure beats someone opening your cupboard in the dead of night and sneaking a peek into your diary.

Anyway, a lot has happened since my last entry. I think I'm having a mid-life crisis when all I wanted badly right now is Guitar Hero Metallica for my 36th Birthday.

With a pathetic account balance in all my banks and the constant 'when can we expect to receive your payment?' calls from the neighborhood friendly debt collectors, I think I'll just have to satisfy my desire by carefully locking that longing together with my other dreams, ambitions, desires and 'what-ifs'.

Bite Me

I've put this off for too long. Everytime I started on a paragraph of this entry, I'd erase it and turn to something less strenous like going to Wiki and researhing Forks, Washington. I know more about the weather conditions in Forks than I care to remember. It's as bad as when a while back, I was so into Orange County that I get more information on the Real Estate situation in that part of California than the COV of my own flat.

Why do I bother so much about a place almost 24 hours away by plane from my own sunny home these days? I don't know. I have no idea what came over me. Maybe it's the stress and the depression I felt lately. Pure escapism so to speak. Something far and remote from the endless pile of mounting bills and forever dodging phone calls from credit card companies baying for my blood.

It surfaced innocently enough. I've seen the book displayed under 'bestseller' in bookstores. I've picked up the thick volume a gazillion times and I've put it down a gazillion times too. I never did have the desire to purchase it. I was curious wondering what all the buzz and hype was all about but never enough to actually bring it over to the counter and dig out cash for it.

No. I'm just as perplexed as everybody else out there over the huge hoo haa. Titanic, Harry Potter, LOTR, what?. Tsk...tsk..

So I didn't bother with the movie. Even when hubby downloaded it and suggested I watched it when we're at Sunway Pyramid during the kids' school holidays and we're lazing around in the hotel room after an enormous lunch earlier. He knew I love chick flicks because it wouldn't take up much disk space since I only watched once and he can happily erase it and replace it with another slapstick no brainer.

I didn't think much about it at first. Just another teen movie. An angsty, brooding vampire and a pale-faced 17 year old. So?

Almost a year later, while debating whether I should go to work or not and decided not to, hubby happily declared that he has downloaded the sequel to that angsty vampire movie. For lack of nothing better to do, I just sat on the sofa and watched. Hrumph, dishy werewolves, yummy. A phone call from a frantic colleague made me decide to run back to the office but not before I watched the cliff-hanger and go WTF? Urgh.

Months later, hubby offered to transfer some movies into my iphone. I suggested that angsty vampire movie since I didn't get to see it much since the TV at home is on permanent "Kids-in-charge" mode, I thought it would while away the time in the MRT from Pioneer to Tanah Merah (I have to do audit in another campus the next day).

And Wham!! It was then that I became hooked. Maybe it's the only time I can concentrate on the movie without constant interruption. Maybe it's the constant 'not enough money' worries hanging over my head or maybe it's just Edward Cullen. But whatever the excuse might be, I was dragged into that world, kicking and screaming albeit reluctantly.

I became even more depressed. I was very quiet at home. I set about my work mechanically. I cook, I clean, I take care of the kids, I send them to school but my happiest moment will be turning on the ipod apps in my phone in the bus and live that moment with Bella and Edward.

I thought I was sick. Maybe I'm having Obsessive Twilight Disorder. I emailed Bayu, a family friend. She was one of those going crazy over this when it first started and I was the one who laughed at her. It was weird but a total relief after writing her a long email describing my symptoms and begging her for a cure. She wrote back, "LOL"-ing good naturedly and told me to sit it out. Time always settles everything, she says. I didn't believe her at first and am horrified to associate myself with the legions of screaming pre pubescent girls all over the world begging Edward to bite them.

So I did what I have to do. I finally made that purchase. That all too famous book with the black cover with a pair of pale hands cradling an apple.

That was my first mistake. I became more attached. It was way, way better than the movie. Maybe because Edward was painted differently. Maybe Bella was very different in the book. It made me want to crawl inside the book and live in it. I've read it twice since. Ok, so I don't declare that I read it like a million times, but hey, I'm still a responsible mum, I have to work and I'm generally, well, responsible. I'm in the third book now and am holding myself back from purchasing the final volume. I desperately need to read it but I think I'll wait for my next pay cheque. Afterall, what am I but a responsible Twilight fan?

That First Love

I wonder if I hv to pay a fortune for this. Blogging on iPhone. I mean I spent the last three days on the bus to work watching Twilight. Not that I've never seen it before. It's just that the first when I watched it, I just thought that it's another teen movie. Until I started seeing Edward Cullen everywhere. Haha... So I'm playing abstinence here and thought I could just distract myself from clicking the iPod icon on the touchscreen and played the movie from where I left off yesterday.

Today is Thursday Apr 29 2010. Seventeen years ago this very day, it was raining and I had to rescue somene whom I had a deep crush on from the rain the second time that month. Time does this to you. It reminds you that life goes on. It heals the wounds but the memories still remain.

So much for phone blogging in the bus. I think I prefer the normal qwerty keyboard.

Of Blues, Miracle and Hope.

Thank the Almighty. Remember the Almighty.

We can always plan, HE knows what's in store. Neck deep in credit card debts and the rising cost of living is not an easy feat especially when you work your ass off and nobody gives a shit.

I've been putting off paying the mounting pile of bills and dreading the bus ride to work because I know the minute I tap my card on the scanner, it's going to give off that annoying beeping 'please top up your card' reminder. I worry if my child have enough pocket money and cried inside when he said "it's ok, I still have the $2 you gave me last week".

So I was not my usual self yesterday. Down in the blues with as much enthusiasm for work as watching a snail's olympic. I have no cash in my wallet save for 5 cents which is in Malaysian currency and is as useful as stale curry. My ATM is dry and I've maxed out all my credit cards. In the rush to prepare breakfast for the kids and herding them out of the house that morning, I have forgotten to bring my own lunch which was left steaming at the counter cabinet at home. With 5 cents of Malaysian currency to my name, I sat forlornly in the bus hoping for a miracle.

It came sooner than expected. A colleague gave 2 slices of brownies. It was superb, rich and filling. Enough to last me that morning. By noon, I busied myself with Facebook and trying to ignore the rumbling calling in my tummy.

At 4pm, while rummaging through my side cupboard for stray coins, I found $1 and made my way to the cafeteria. There was a plate with 1 Gendang Kasturi and 1 Harum Manis for 50 cents each. As it was the final 2 piece, the cashier charge me 50 cents for both pieces. Hmm, 2 miracles in less than 5 minutes.

Trudging back to the office, I started wondering about past boyfriends and wondered what their reactions would have been if they were to see me financially broke like this. I started thinking of Tommy and Gina in Bon Jovi's song "Living on a Prayer" I started thinking of my ambitions and dreams and all those things that just didn't turned out the way I planned.

Once at my desk, a colleague called again to remind me that the 'results' were in. It's our code word for 'payslips'. It's performance bonus month and the usual 50% extra would be a much needed welcome. Breathlessly, I waited for the screen to upload and gasp. 85%!!.. Subhanallah....

That gave me enough boost to skip through the rest of the day. Last night, after putting in a few hours longer with the cab, hubby came home and told me how, his target of $300 was not met. Tired, after sending one passenger from the Sentosa Casino to a pub in Kampong Baru, he decided to call it a day with $260. Less than 5 minutes later, he heard an unfamiliar ringtone. The passenger had left his handphone in the backseat. He picked the call and agreed to meet the owner. The thankful guy reached into his packet and gave a note to hubby through the open window. There was a lot of declining and pursuading from both parties before the guy quickly left the note on the passenger seat after a round of thank yous and tapped the side as if to wave the cab off because it's beginning to cause a traffic obstruction on the cramped road. $50.

So many miracles in one day. It was too emotional to be graphic. Words just can't describe it.

Allah is great. May HE forgive my sins and I thank HIM for guiding me. Amin.

The Surprise

Something disturbing happened this morning. I needed my sleep, so I was settling myself comfortably in the bus hoping for 15 minutes of shut-eye. Took out my iphone and logged on to Facebook.

It was too early for a surprise but I got it anyway. The "person-who's-name-I-shouldn't-mention" request me to add as "friend". The heck was he trying to do? Men. Of course they wouldn't for the life of them realise what hell the girls went through. Twenty years down the road, they can go "heyy...what's up?" as if that part of their lives have never existed in the first place.

Why can't it be that easy? We have to suffer through boxes of tissue papers and countless rebounds before finally settling down only to discover that it was not really Wonderland. Once we get hold of the situation and accept life as it's fated to be, here comes that "person-who's-name-shouldn't-be-spoken" asking you to be their "friend".

Click ignore? It's not that easy. Ignoring means he will never know that I'm better off without him. Ignoring means he will never know how I've stopped pining for him. Ignoring means I can continue ignoring the scars of old wounds.

Ignoring also means I will never know what he's up to. Ignoring means I will never know the real reason why he's looking me up. Ignoring also means I will never close this chapter of my life.

But then again, ignoring has it's pros and cons. On the plus side, ignoring means I can go on in life knowing that he still remembers me to add me as friend. Ignoring also means he will never know how the once petite lass have now turned into a whirlpool fridge. On the minus side however, ignoring him will not satiate this burning curiosity on what actually happened that led to that turn of events which eventually left me perpetually angry whenever I think of him.

Decisions....decisions...

Flirting 101 - The Don'ts (In Pasar Malay)

Adengan bulan puasa tahun '95. Dua anak dara sedang buka puasa kat corridor tingkat 4, TMC Business School, Jurong East Blk 134. Dah abis makan diorang lepak kejap lah sambil tunggu break over.

Yang satu tu ntah apa angin pi jenguk kat bawah dari tingkat 4 korridor tu. Kat bawah tu ada ATM machine. Ada lah 2 mamat ni. Yang satu tengah korek duit. Lagi satu dok nunggu kat tepi. Umur agak2 cam abang2 gitulah. Tak ler tua sangat tapi definitely not the same age as the two girls.

Dua2 anak dara ni memang decent haprak. Cuma yang satu ni ntah apa gila dia malam tu nak try flirt lah konon, so dia pun pekik ler dari atas:

Girl: Hai!!...
Abg: (pandang keliling, pas tu tengok atas tros senyum)

Girl: Hai!.!!.....Tak gi Terawih ke??.
Abg (senyum lagi, sayup2 kedengaran dia pekik): Lom Tat...!!

(Angin kencang betol malam tu...)

Girl: Huh??!! Tak Dengar??!.. Apa?!!
Abg (sambil senyum flirt balik): Lom taaaat....!!..

Girl: What?!!!...Dah Murtad?
(fikiran dah mula melayang jauh..urghh.sayang...handsome2 mengaku lak dah murtad.......isyykkk)

Abg (equally blur and frustrated): Huh??!!....LOM TAT!!!! LOM TAT!!!

Dan lepas tu angin pun bertukar arah, lalu si girl ni terdengar...

Abg: BELOM START!!!.

Girl: Ooohhh...Blum start eh...ah..oklah..bye bye!!!...

======================
Specially going out to my TMC buddy Nurhafizah....
Wherever you are girl, this is for you ....
good times beb...good times...

Kekasihku Seru Marathon

Had a lazy weekend. Was in the bedroom right after my Asar prayers and contemplating between vacuuming the rug or straightening up the kid's mini library when I heard something interesting coming out of the hall TV. Turns out, the father and son duo, while channel surfing the Hubstation found a free sneak first episode of a Malay horror drama, Kekasihku Seru. The title oddly, did not even sound like a horror flick.

It was so interesting that when that first episode ended, we really needed to know what's happening next. Starhub's clever marketing ploy worked. We subscribed and paid $13 for 13 commercial-free episodes. It was this morning while I was googling the net and found out that the drama was actually aired on TV3.

But since we couldn't get TV3 signals and it's commercial-free, we were saved the suspense and got to watch everything back to back uninterrupted. Weigh the pros and cons and we'll argue about this later.

So that Saturday saw us watching the first 6 episodes and started on the last 6 early the next morning. Hey, we were curious. Although they gave us 45 days to view it, we just had to know what came next.

Amidst the horror, suspense and shocking moments, it was actually quite interesting and definitely more believable than the stupid Istri Untuk Suamiku.

The story revolves around Marissa (Emelda Rosmila) who was awakened at 3.30 am to her mum's sudden death. While mourning her loss at her grave, another main character, Rashad (Fizz Fairuz) was also mourning at another grave nearby over the loss of his wife and daughter in a road accident. Both deaths were caused by this 'thing' which is what this story is all about.

Upon finding out that she is an adopted child, she leaves her studies hanging, ignores her best friend's pleas and sets out to find her real mother. She eventually made her way to Highland Estate where she found Doctor Hakim, a local doctor, freshly fired from his job of looking after his catatonic patient, Mas Ayu (Kuza). Marissa was mistaken by the head of the house, Mas Suri (Umie Aida) to be the new nurse "Mariam" and was given the job right away. Marissa accepted after catching a glimpse of Mas Ayu through one of the windows and was sure that the patient was her mother.

The real nurse, Mariam, however, got stalled in the middle of nowhere in her car (she just got her license - poor girl) no signal in her handphone and got brutally killed by the "thing".

It was easy to hate Mas Suri from the start. She was headstrong, fierce and boy can she scream. There was an air of mystique about the house and everyone spoke in circles. We felt sorry for Marissa who just could not get her answers. Everyone refuses to tell her anything. Her first night was frightening enough. The 'thing' disturbed her, tore her telekong into shreds and made her cry out her frustrations while she grappled for the Quran to seek strength.

Doc Hakim sought Marissa out and told her that the medications for Mas Ayu were wrongly labelled and that's the reason why Mas Ayu just sat there doing nothing the whole day. Marissa hated Mas Suri and confronted her but never revealed her suspicions about the whole family. Secretly, she threw the medications and Mas Ayu eventually began to respond to her.

Meanwhile, Rashad, still grieving about his dead wife and daughter was haunted by them and began to 'see' dead people. He seeks out his grandfather whom he has not visited for a long time. His grandfather once told him about his gift when he was a young boy but his own father did not want him to dabble in "nonsense" and took him and his brother to live far, far away from his grandfather.

Rashad's journey took him to the local village's police station near Highland Estate after receiving the news of his brother's murder. Turned out that our Doc Hakim was actually his brother. Ghostly images of Doc Hakim appear and reveal to him his diary and all the going ons in Highland Estate.

Marissa, now at her wit's end, with too many unanswered questions became bolder in her intentions, lashing out at the similarly stubborn housekeeper, Mak Wan. Mas Suri meanwhile, has this ability to cure herself from serious injury by drinking what looked like vile, thick liquid and smoking eggs. We were taught to believe that there's some sort of black magic going on and Mas Ayu became catatonic because she "langgar pantang". There were also words that none of the ladies in the house were supposed to get married and Mas Ayu apparently flaunted that golden rule.

Rashad's investigation over his brother's murder led him to Marissa who was caught trying to run away after getting blood samples of Mas Ayu to prove that their DNA matches and that they're mother-daughter. The blood samples got lost and the mystery continues.

Mas Suri, tired of Marissa's confrontations, fired her and told her to leave the house. Marissa's frustrations mounted and she was determined to get Mas Ayu away even if she had to resort to kidnapping. The plan failed and Rashad convinces Marissa to follow him to meet his grandfather who might know the answers.

They found his grandfather deep in the forest after meeting random, dead people along the way. Grandfather thus started the tale.

The story spans six generations actually. Mastura was Waris (Hairi Othman) first love. The two love/lust after each other so much that they decide to elope and live in the forest after Mastura's father refuses to accept Waris who comes from a poor but religious family. To tie their bind permanently, they seek the help of a she-shaman. Waris knew that Mastura's father would seek them out so they made a pact that even if one of them is dead, the other can call them back or something like that. Mastura's father found them and killed Waris.

Mastura killed her father and brought Waris back from the dead. He is the 'thing' and the 'saka' that will be the centre of this story. After some time, Mastura somehow realised that Waris was just an undead body and that he was capable of evil things. She repents and seeks the help of Waris's brother who guides her to the true path. For all of Waris's evil doings, he can never kill his own flesh and blood, so the lives of his generation were always assured.

Mastura however, found that she could not kill a dead guy and went on with her life. She got married to Mas Yunus and died alone during childbirth, greatly disturbed by Waris. The daughter, Mas Ita grew up with an aloof father who somehow blamed her for the loss of his wife. Mas Ita was accompanied by Waris and grew to love him. Waris persuaded her to marry because for him to exist, Mastura's blood must run throughout the generations. Mas Ita reluctantly got married and couldn't care less when her husband died at Waris's hand. She lived with Waris's presence and her daughter, Mas Juita.

Mas Juita grew up and Mas Ita became jealous that Waris is now drawn towards her daughter. Mas Juita has no idea why her mother was always talking to herself. Mas Juita got married and gave birth to Mas Dahlia and Mas Lela. Mas Ita died pathetically because Waris didn't need her anymore. There were 3 breathing Mas's for him to choose from.

Mas Juita knew of Waris and hated him. She seeks the help of a religious man (Waris's family). She seeks ways to kill Waris but to no avail. The only way to kill him is to find his grave and give him a proper Muslim burial.

Meanwhile, Mas Dahlia and Mas Lela grew up. Mas Dahlia being more outspoken than her loser sister became angry when Mas Juita told them the history of their generation and that they must never, ever get married. Waris approached Mas Dahlia. He has been approaching her when she was a child, giving her delicious food (in a time of war) and showering her with money. Mas Dahlia was blinded by greed. When Mas Juita died, she used her wealth to buy Highland Estate and moved in with her sister Mas Lela.

She then got married and gave birth to Mas Suri and Mas Ayu. Her husband conveniently died soon after. When the girls came of age, Mas Dahlia died, in the same way as her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. Waris approached Mas Suri who rejected and fought him. He then approaches Mas Ayu who was in a gullible position after coming back from a party, freshly raped. Frightened and confused, she accepted Waris after he dropped the rapist's dead body at her feet.

Mas Ayu gave birth to a stillborn and refused to believe that her child was dead. Mas Suri secretly got married and gave birth to Marissa. She quickly divorced her husband, returned to Highland Estate and gave the child to Mas Ayu who actually believed that was her daughter. 

Upon seeing Waris with Mas Ayu and Marissa, she quickly took the child away to be raised by a friend, far, far away. Mas Ayu, bereaved by the loss of her "daughter" was never herself and got lost in her own world. Here, we then realised that Mas Suri was in fact Marissa's mother and not Mas Ayu as we were led to believe.

Mas Suri, Rashad and his grandfather eventually fought Waris but they cannot kill him. They did manage to find the grave (which was transferred over to Highland Estate) and retrieve his remains but they couldn't rebury him. The earth just refuses to accept him.

They eventually went back to the original spot where he was killed and Marissa managed to put him to rest.

We really thought the drama ended here. One year later, Rashad got married to Marissa and she gave birth to a girl. The stupid Mas Ayu killed the nurse at the nursing home and went back to the grave to retrieve Waris.

The End.

Despite the hanging climax, it was a good series. Should have watched in YouTube and saved the $13 but the storyline was fantastic and the whole thing deserves a two thumbs up.

Better than stupid unbelievable Indon sinetrons anytime...

Weekend Getaway

Am fighting sleeping mode. I am so proud of my organising skills and ability in juggling 20 000 things at one time that I failed to enjoy the pleasures of sleeping.

I got back from KL in one piece. The days leading to the trip were filled with resentment and irritable attitude towards the kids and The H who can really move the ratings on the patience lever to the maximum possible position. Must be the hormone imbalance as my period is late and I know I'm not pregnant.

So after planting the idea of "Adventure in the Train" to the kids who are on a constant "Thomas and Friends VCD" diet, The H declared that we're not driving up to KL afterall. We're taking the old school route by sitting quietly for 7 hours in Express Rakyat from Tanjong Pagar. I wish!!.

We ended up sitting for 9 hours on our butts and repeated attacks of Tom & Jerry cartoons.

When I first stepped into the train, I was taken aback by the dirty curtains hanging limply fom the grimy windows. Tiny roaches (the ones you see in buses) scurried about. The seats were old and frayed, toilets a thousand years old and the doors separating each cabin did not automatically slide back so someone sitting in front has to constantly close the door to minimise the noise because people with itchy backsides keep going in and out of the doors and never close it back.

Thank goodness the air-con is working and the air is fresh enough.

I thought I could get my sleep in the train after getting through the Woodlands checkpoint passport stamping-stop-at-toilet amazing race because prior to waking up at 5 am, I actually watched True Lies (I can't help it, I just loved the part when Jamie Lee Curtis does the hooker striptease) and went to bed at a quarter past midnight.

I didn't get my sleep in the train really. Matin kept walking around barefoot and switching seats just to irritate Danial and I keep looking out for signs of abnormal rattling/shaking of the train. I mean, the coaches have obviously seen better days.

We arrived in KL at 4:07pm. Nine hours after leaving Singapore because the Engine stopped somewhere in Bukit Panjang and have to be pulled back to the switch points where another Engine could replace the malfunctioned one.

Upon arrival at KL Central, I headed straight for Subway to satisfy my craving for an Italian BMT with lots of olives. Something which I can only swallow my saliva at in Singapore.

Hotel was great although much can be said on the Customer Service front. The malay guy on the counter apparantly thought we're some lost village people who just needed to use the toilet. I mean, I don't think he expect much from a bunch of stragglers dragging their worldly belongings in a trolley bag up the steps of the hotel lobby from the LRT station nearby instead of making a grand entrance in an airport limousine.

He was almost smirking when I handed in our bookings via a crumpled piece of A4 paper printed out from their website where we already made a $20 deposit. Maybe he certainly didn't expect me to hand in the ringgits in cold hard cash upfront to pay for our lodging which is what I proceeded to do next. If that humbled him, he didn't show it but the slight change in attitude was obvious enough to give me that twitch of satisfaction.

We got the executive floor with chandeliers at the lift landing. Chandeliers!!! The kids spent one hour in the lap pool before we make one trip to Suria KLCC to tapau dinner. Once we stepped in, it's like meeting an old friend. Everything is just the same. Even Kinokuniya's format is the same.

We managed to slot in a whole day at Genting the next day but the queues are a real turn-off. The trip up was a totally different experience from the one I remembered in 1981 (I was only 7) where I puked all the way from Subang Jaya (my aunt's place) to the top. Things are much more different and better now. It was not that cold and the place is not much different than that of Downtown East but I managed to take pictures at spots where there are mists and everyone in the office actually thought I was in Alaska over the weekend. Apparantly, no one missed me.

That night, after packing amidst the snore of The H and the kids sleeping soundly, I thought I'd better get enough rest and sleep early. I ended up watching Pirates of the Carribean - At World's End on Star Movies. It was the only chance I got because if I watch it at home, anyone would just interrupt me and The H would just take the remote and change the channel without consulting.

I did not like the ending though. Will Turner is cursed to spend 10 years at sea and 1 day on land to see his wife. So by the fifth trip, I don't think Will will like it when Elizabeth Swann is a 70 year old hag while he's still a ravishingly handsome swashbuckling pirate. Disturbing.

All in all, the trip was not that bad. Seeing the kids so contented with the hotel pool and the simple pleasure of just walking around in the cold air at Genting and spending time with them just makes me so happy. Nevermind that The H can really get on my nerves at times.

For now, I desperately need another holiday to de-stress from this holiday.

Post Outing Blues

I hate that period of time when you wake up realising that it's almost dusk. That melancholy feeling you get when the day is almost over and night is coming soon. It's even more difficult when this happens after you spend the whole day catching up on lost sleep.

I remembered crying stupidly for no reason when they're telecasting National Day parade live on TV and I can hear the fighter planes returning to their base. It was the evening after I came home in the early morning after a trip to KL with a group of friends. I crashed in immediately after emptying the bag of dirty clothes in the washing maching and didn't wake up till evening. That was when I started crying.

This has been happening since I was a kid. Seeing everyone sleeping after a tiring trip across the causeway, I'd usually have this feeling of utter misery and hopeless depression.

That's what I'm experiencing now. Oh the outing was great. The barbeque went well and The Hubby's friends all turned out in full force, with wives, kids, tents and ice coolers in tow. We almost couldn't get our pit and thanks to hours of Customer Service courses, I managed to keep my cool when confronted with an unpleasant situation.

Two families got there first. Mine and another of his close buddy. As the pit was directly under the morning sun, we decided to dump our stuff at the shelter nearby and spend the next hour trying to fix the goalposts for the kids (and the kids above age 30). As family by family joined us and the group got bigger, we decided to progress to the pit about 10 steps away to prepare for the evening.

This was when we saw a couple placing their cooler and food there. We thought they're just resting. Then, the wife started to unpack. While the guys were figuring what to do, I went to the wife and asked her this:

"Excuse me, you guys are using the place?"
Girl turned and said "Yes?!" It was something in the tone of her voice that made me stepped back.
"Did you guys book the pit?"
"YES!!!" Her eyes were so huge, I could've sworn it would popped out if she willed it to.
I said "Ok" and walked away.

I was seething with the way she responded to me but I managed to keep calm, only to blow off steam in front of the other wives. I mean, she don't have to be so defensive about it.

Hubby and gang decided to find the nearest AXS machine to print the receipt as proof. However, before they came back, the couple left in a huff after rounds of phone calls. The girl actually came back to me but instead of apologising, she confessed that headquarters have confirmed that the pit was booked by a "malay" guy. I asked if she kept the receipt but she said she threw it away. Then she said that her husband is very, very pissed off by the whole thing and that they decided to leave.

Well, I can put myself in her shoes. I'd be pissed off too. But as this is an event that involves logistics, food, people and feelings, it is important to have everything in black and white. All I know is that if I were the one booking the pit and I didn't have the receipt, I'd have all of hell to pay but since the fault lies with my hubby or maybe the machine, I learned to just shut up and get on with life.

Everyone didn't sleep. We didn't need to. Only the kids. But they managed an average of two hours and woke at midnight. It was hot and the aeroplanes roaring above didn't help matters.

The outing was a success and the kids had the time of their life. We were dead tired and I fought the melancholy by trying to create something for dinner.

Next time, we're definitely going to a chalet. There's air con, comfortable beds, no sand, no irritating people claiming the place is theirs and best of all, no roaring airplanes 20cm above your head.

Of Indonesian Soap Operas

Or Sinetrons as they prefer to call it. Soap is so American. Anyway, from what little knowledge I knew, soaps originated as day time drama serials over radio or tv with continuing or in some cases endless episodes (Days of our Lives(?!) haha. Someone's grandmother actually joked that she'd die first before reaching the end of the story). Well, the said grandma did passed on and the story is still running. Anyway, in January 2007, it was suggested by NBC that Days of Our Lives is unlikely to continue past 2009.

Back to my entry here. For the record, I have never, ever, for the life of me, indulged myself in front of the couch at a certain hour each week, eagerly waiting for an anticipated episode and wondering why the handsome but stupid male actor remain blissfully unaware that everyone around him is conspiring against him and that his stepmother is actually a mad, old cow with an 80s hairdo.

I have never, ever cleared all the cooking, cleaning and slaving superfast on a given weekday just so that I could enjoy that one hour of freedom from everyday life.

And god forbid, I hope I never, ever put on a sour face when guests came at that hour and make me miss that crucial episode.

For I have never, ever been a big fan of soap operas. Never.

That is until I came across the first episodes of Istri untuk Suamiku (A wife for my husband). Now if only I could do the same to my husband. Not!

As riveting as the title goes, the story is so damn stupid, the pace super slow, the parts so bloody unbelievable that I just have to sit through 1.5 hours of it. Every week. I have no idea why but somehow, crunchy peanut butter on celery sticks just tastes better in front of that programme at that hour when you have the TV to yourself and everyone has gone to dreamland.

The story centres around a couple, Alia and Krisna. A happily married but childless couple. Krisna's mom dotes on Alia (Talk about unreal. Is there such a thing?) and openly expressed her wish to have grandchildren before she die. Alia took it upon her head that she has to die-die give a grandchild to her mother-in-law so as not to disappoint her. But, here's the catch. Alia is barren.

So this pious, ultra beautiful woman hit upon this idea of finding a wife for Krisna. A sort of contractual thing where they will consummate the marriage and file for divorce once the baby is born. All expenses paid, no strings attached and a straight cut win-win situation. Apparantly, the producers have never heard of artificial insemnation.

Krisna's violent objection was understood but I think he secretly likes the idea. Which men wouldn't? So we see Alia interviewing women of all walks of life together with her gynae whom I noticed have eyes that are too close together. The fact that she is so wooden doesn't really help matters. I give her credit for her expressive frowns though.

After rounds of interviewing the wrong girls, they came upon Reva who looked like she was forced to marry a camel and is desparate for money to bear her younger sister's surgical expenses.

So the unhappy Reva married Krisna in Alia's wedding gown. A stupid move because apparently, Krisna kept seeing Alia in the gown instead of Reva. The two reluctant newly weds then consummate their marriage.

Alia being the super-understanding, super-sweet wife comforted Reva and assures her that everything will be alright. She clears the master bedroom of her things and moved to the guest room where she lay awake the whole night praying that she could be strong enough to ignore what is going on in the other room.

Krisna came into Alia's room and told her that he's done what he has to do. He looked so miserable that as the audience, we forgot to see that he's a bona fide man and that he's actually itching to get back to Reva's room.

Reva's sister amidst much misunderstanding finally gets to stay with them and undergo the operation so that she can walk again. This one a bit unlogical but the glaring mistake cannot compensate with what I would want to say next.

Reva's pregnancy advances and managed to fall in love with Krisna. Alia meanwhile parades around with a pillow under her clothes to fool her mother-in-law. Seriously, how many women can stand walking around with a pillow like that for nine months?

Then in the hospital, while Reva was struggling to give birth, the mother-in-law kept interfering and stumbling upon Reva and Krisna who unfortunately were always in a less than desirable position when the clueless woman walks in.

Have to give the mother-in-law some credit when she initally suspects but was always put at ease when Alia or Krisna created one white lie after another. As easily as the woman shows her distaste and disgust (like stepmothers in sadistic 70s movies), she can easily be cooled and calmed by the two main characters. Tell me, how many mother-in-laws are like that?

So, we have Reva fighting for her life and her baby. The doctor (surprise! it's the closely-spaced eyed actress again!) told Alia and Krisna that Reva has only 3 hours to live if she is not given a specific medication which unfortunately the hospital has ran out of. How unbelievable is that?

Krisna and Alia is portrayed as rich enough to buy half of Indonesia, and here they are in some bloody, inefficient hospital with a doctor who said matter of factly (forget about the expressive frown! Reva is dying remember??!!) that they don't have that kind of medication and calmly wrote on a slip of paper the name of the medicine so that Krisna can go and look for it. She might as well add potato chips and popcorn on her list. It was so stupid, the writers deserved to be kicked to ER (the american tv series, duh!) and have the doctors there jabbed some sense in their asses.

The next scene have them twiddling their thumbs for 3 hours and looking at the clock's fingers from 12:00 to 2:55 am. Krisna came in with a plastic bag with the medication (maybe he purchased from the nearest 24 hour guardian pharmacy) and gave it to the doctor.

Miraculously, Reva survived (duh!) and so does the baby. Do they live happily ever after? Of course not. Mother-in-law have to come into Alia's room and feed her post-natal food and thank her for giving her a grandchild. Alia is too stupid to confess and kept giving wild looks. Mother-in-law of course was too happy to notice.

The unlogical part. How is it that Alia, who supposedly fought all night to give birth look so healthy with make up to boot and walking around from room to room the next morning? I couldn't walk like that even after a week of giving birth. Mother-in-law never notice this too. She was too busy scolding Krisna for hugging another woman (Reva).

As of today, the serial is still running. It's only once a week, late at night, so, I need not do my housework in a hurry and need not have to put a superficial smile on my face when I have guests over. Wait! Didn't I just deny all this at the top of this page? Well, I'm still in denial. This sinetron is so damn stupid, it's good. And I am so not going to watch this ever again.

So tonight, when everyone has gone to bed, I'll probably can't sleep and start channel surfing. HBO and StarMovie will not have anything interesting unless you unsubscribe. Yes, when you unsubscribe, they advertise all these blockbusters and when you do, you get all these stupid movies.

Oh boy, I can't wait to see more stupidity tonight.

Oops.