A few days after I was home, my mother regaled me with a year's worth of stories of the latest gossip from her life, how my doggie poo dug up the garden, new marriages, newborn babies, broken marriages and so on and so forth. I politely listened while reading a book piping in questions at strategic points so that she could rant on further, as all mothers do.
That Sunday at church, she pushed to almost every single member asking me to smile and greet them, familiar faces and the new. The cat smelled curiousity when she anxiously introduced me to a new family, Uncle Robert, and his son Ronald who was about my age, currently studying medicine in Melbourne, Australia, and who is "a nice boy".
Later on in the evening, over a game of scrabble, my father also casually mentioned this chap and how he is "a nice boy". He then later bluntly asked if we needed to be set up, or if we could exchange e-mails or something, because that would make mummy happy.
My mother still denies any intentions on her part. Albeit very feebly.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Friday, December 8, 2006
What's In A Name?
My mailman assumes that I'm related to every single person whose last name is Lee. My neighbor, S. Lee, has his mail constantly put into my mailbox. So do phantom residents P.Lee, J.Lee this Lee, that Lee and as of today, HsiaoHsien Lee. I really need to tell him to get it straight. I just want mail in my name. No A. Lee, no B. Lee, no C. Lee. And while he is at it, no coupons.
That got me thinking, so what is in a name? Who knows.
With a facebook group with my namesake, a struggling actress whose credits include 'the woman at the airport' in Bones (I think she played a corpse), a CNBC financial reporter, a Shakespearean quote rings true.
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
Here's my favorite version of me.
"Model"
Friday, December 1, 2006
Teacher Teacher
When I was in Primary One, my secret pleasure would was craning my neck to look at the teacher's desk, watching her red pen gracefully skimming a page of handwriting and putting check marks,crosses and stars where appropriate. My seven-year-old pigtailed self thought that it indeed must be wonderful to have such a task.
Throughout my younger years, I recalled when my cikgu matematik commanded us to pull out our buku congak. She would then rattle off some arithmetic problems and making us quickly scribble the answer in our books after working it out in our head. Afterward, I waited with abated breath, seeing whether she would decide to collect our books, to mark it herself, or announce, "Tukar buku, cikgu beri jawapan, tanda sendiri!", and I would delight when she said the latter and let us mark the answers.
Fast forward to the present, and here I am, making a quick run to Walmart before closing time because my red pen is out of ink, picking up a soy latte to keep awake to finish marking these horribly wrongly answered quizzes, when I can be spending my time, doing something much more worthwhile (like my homework assignment or watching Grey's Anatomy).
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Of Blue Dildoes
My car engine requires an oil change and a check up every 3 months which I dutifully maintain. So after much thought, I figured that after 22 years, it was high time to go see a gynaecologist. Opting on my school's health clinic out of convenience, I dialed the Health Services number, and then pressed 1, and then 8 and then 8 to schedule an appointment regarding women's health just like the automated voice message system instructed me to. After five minutes, I finally acheived human contact, who then told me that I had to go to the school's health education services to receive sex education before I could see a gynaecologist.
Annoyed but yet determined, I scheduled an (inconvenient) appointment with the health education department. On the day, I was ushered into a room where a giggly youngish-looking intern started talking to me about sex education. Out of her plastic box, she pulled out a bright blue plastic dildo and proceeded to roll a bright purple condom onto it, appropriately using the correct technique. So there I was, trying to keep a straight face all whilst thinking when would be the next time in my life I would see a blue dildo and purple condom at the same time. I spent the next 45 minutes talking about 101 ways to avoid STDs and pregnancy.
Hmmm, if you considered pregnancy a disease, then I guess you could call it an STD. Food for thought.
Annoyed but yet determined, I scheduled an (inconvenient) appointment with the health education department. On the day, I was ushered into a room where a giggly youngish-looking intern started talking to me about sex education. Out of her plastic box, she pulled out a bright blue plastic dildo and proceeded to roll a bright purple condom onto it, appropriately using the correct technique. So there I was, trying to keep a straight face all whilst thinking when would be the next time in my life I would see a blue dildo and purple condom at the same time. I spent the next 45 minutes talking about 101 ways to avoid STDs and pregnancy.
Hmmm, if you considered pregnancy a disease, then I guess you could call it an STD. Food for thought.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
(Another) Blonde Moment
Respected CNN news anchor, the very intelligent and even more passionate (and utterly adorable! *sigh*), the one and only Anderson Cooper made an appearance for University at Buffalo's Distinguished Speaker Series. I went to the Arena, dressed up in nice heels, my nice pants, and my cute blouse and my nice coat, with a dash of my sample Estee Lauder perfume just in case he might ask me out for a drink after.
At the end of the session, I managed to wrangle through the masses to come up near the stage to just oogle at his piercing blue eyes and shake his hand. This guy next to me then thrusted a disposable camera into my hands and asked me to take a photograph of him with AC. I politely obliged him, and snapped a quick photo. Unfortunately, the flash didn't go off in the rather poorly lit auditorium. Anderson said "Uh-oh, the flash didn't go off," and I dumbly nodded my head and stared intently at the camera valiantly but unsucessfully looking for the 'press for flash' button. After a few moments, Anderson reached over, brushed my hand (!), and pressed the 'press for flash' button and politely told me I needed to wind up the camera again.
So there it is. My only close encounter with the dashing Mr.Cooper immortalizes me as the silly giddy girl who didn't know how to operate a disposable camera.
Thursday, November 9, 2006
From my 22 year-old self to my 12 year-old self
You'll get boobs albeit small ones, eventually.
Mahathir will step down.
But before that, Anwar Ibrahim will go to prison for sodomy.
But at that time, you didn't know what sodomy was. It's not a fruit.
You will kill four fish, never fish-sit.
You'll be in graduate school for Chemistry. You quite like what you do, but you'll never admit to being that dork.
You will study in America.
Mummy and Daddy get quite religious.
You'll get a tattoo and sometimes forget you did.
You'll get pregnant. KIDDING.
The Spice Girl thing was a phase, thank God.
You'll have spent a night in Japan with seven Australian pilots karaoke-ing till 4a.m.
You'll sprain both your ankles.
The first car you'll buy is a 5-speed manual tranmission 1992 green Toyota Camry LE.
Grandma will die. Sorry. But you'll be all right.
You should have visited her on Monday at the hospital just to tell her you love her one more time and not gone to dance class.
You won't get to the hospital on time on Tuesday.
But you'll be all right.
Life will throw you some heartache.
But you'll be all right.
Life is beautiful.
Mahathir will step down.
But before that, Anwar Ibrahim will go to prison for sodomy.
But at that time, you didn't know what sodomy was. It's not a fruit.
You will kill four fish, never fish-sit.
You'll be in graduate school for Chemistry. You quite like what you do, but you'll never admit to being that dork.
You will study in America.
Mummy and Daddy get quite religious.
You'll get a tattoo and sometimes forget you did.
You'll get pregnant. KIDDING.
The Spice Girl thing was a phase, thank God.
You'll have spent a night in Japan with seven Australian pilots karaoke-ing till 4a.m.
You'll sprain both your ankles.
The first car you'll buy is a 5-speed manual tranmission 1992 green Toyota Camry LE.
Grandma will die. Sorry. But you'll be all right.
You should have visited her on Monday at the hospital just to tell her you love her one more time and not gone to dance class.
You won't get to the hospital on time on Tuesday.
But you'll be all right.
Life will throw you some heartache.
But you'll be all right.
Life is beautiful.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Best Pick Up Line Ever
Furniture Guy : What are you doing for dinner?
Girl : Umm...chinese food? I think? Yea...
Furniture Guy : Mmmhmmm...My two weaknesses, chinese women and chinese food.
Girl : . . .
Girl : Umm...chinese food? I think? Yea...
Furniture Guy : Mmmhmmm...My two weaknesses, chinese women and chinese food.
Girl : . . .
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Surviving Buffalo
Just the beginning
Thursday night wreaked havoc on Buffalo as 'lake-effect snow' blanketed the city with 2 feet of unexpected early October snow. The snow started falling in the afternoon, and by the time I left school in the evening, I was trekking through a snowstorm, almost getting stuck in a parking lot buried under inches of snow (the car I mean).
The city was paralyzed when power was cut off from 200,000 homes, including mine. I felt like I was stuck in the early 1800s, when there was no such thing as electricity and heat. All I could do was sit in a pile of blankets while counting how many teeth I had in my mouth with my tongue in the dark until I fell asleep.
48 hours later, power and heat was restored. The upside is that school was cancelled from Friday to Monday. The downside is that I now have two loaves of white bread which will get moldy, three just-for-emergency flashlights which I probably won't use till the next time, which by that time the batteries would have drained and a hundred tea light candles.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Naughty
Is it wrong to think one of your students is really cute? And that he's got a great smile? Some things just brightens up Tuesday classes.
Sunday, October 8, 2006
Where's A Man When You Need One?
Just when I thought I could be the epitome of Miss Independent, sipping my hot tea and studying while enjoying peace and quiet in a single apartment, a bug comes flying into the house and there I am with spilt hot tea over my notes screaming and ducking at a flying insect in my apartment at 11.30pm contemplating whether to call my neighbour to come smack it dead for me and risking making his girlfriend prissy at me for using her man to come rescue me from my distress which he should be doing only for her since he is her boyfriend.
Edit:
I killed the bug with my Pilates book. I feel liberated!
Edit:
I killed the bug with my Pilates book. I feel liberated!
Tuesday, October 3, 2006
Aiyah
With the recent furor about Khairy's remarks on Malaysian Chinese exploiting current internal upheaval in UMNO (which has as usual gone unnoticed by Malaysian mainstream English and Malay dailies), as well certain people being very prissy about some harsh but true remarks made by Mr.Lee KY, I am again deeply frustrated by how everything revolves around race, religion and ethnicity.
Kita ni semua kan rakyat Malaysia? Tapi, I tahu lah, memang susah, you orang Melayu, I orang Cina. Bumiputera vs. non-Bumi, Islam vs. non-Islam, jurang yang memisahkan kita, makin lama, makin ketara. Semangat muhibah konon. Orang bukan Melayu (generally!) tidak respek orang Melayu, terasa bahawa kaum Melayu malas dan releks, disuap makan kerajaan. Orang bukan Melayu sudah termakan bisa pentadbiran yang memberi hak istimewa kepada kaum bumiputera. Isu yang tidak boleh dibangkitkan, tidak boleh dipertikaikan, seperti yang tertera di dalam perlembagaan. Bagaikan, saya, anak Malaysia, dilahirkan dan dibesarkan di tanah air, adalah seorang second-class citizen. Orang Melayu pula, tidak suka orang bukan Melayu. Semangat patriotik dan kebangsaan serba kekurangan di kalangan mereka, terlalu asyik mengejar wang. Terutamanya di kalangan orang bandar, etik dan moral yang tidak selari dengan hukum syariah, bukankah Malaysia negara Islam?
The government complacently paints a pictures of peace and harmony, not heeding these undercurrents of tension and dissatisfaction of the nation. Jangan lupa, Malaysia mengamalkan prinsip demokrasi berperlembagaan, seperti adat Temenggung, di bawah prinsip bahawa rakyat yang menentukan pentadbiran. Don't get too big for your boots. You can, and will (if this continues), be overthrown, ala Thailand.
We're a time bomb waiting to explode.
Kita ni semua kan rakyat Malaysia? Tapi, I tahu lah, memang susah, you orang Melayu, I orang Cina. Bumiputera vs. non-Bumi, Islam vs. non-Islam, jurang yang memisahkan kita, makin lama, makin ketara. Semangat muhibah konon. Orang bukan Melayu (generally!) tidak respek orang Melayu, terasa bahawa kaum Melayu malas dan releks, disuap makan kerajaan. Orang bukan Melayu sudah termakan bisa pentadbiran yang memberi hak istimewa kepada kaum bumiputera. Isu yang tidak boleh dibangkitkan, tidak boleh dipertikaikan, seperti yang tertera di dalam perlembagaan. Bagaikan, saya, anak Malaysia, dilahirkan dan dibesarkan di tanah air, adalah seorang second-class citizen. Orang Melayu pula, tidak suka orang bukan Melayu. Semangat patriotik dan kebangsaan serba kekurangan di kalangan mereka, terlalu asyik mengejar wang. Terutamanya di kalangan orang bandar, etik dan moral yang tidak selari dengan hukum syariah, bukankah Malaysia negara Islam?
The government complacently paints a pictures of peace and harmony, not heeding these undercurrents of tension and dissatisfaction of the nation. Jangan lupa, Malaysia mengamalkan prinsip demokrasi berperlembagaan, seperti adat Temenggung, di bawah prinsip bahawa rakyat yang menentukan pentadbiran. Don't get too big for your boots. You can, and will (if this continues), be overthrown, ala Thailand.
We're a time bomb waiting to explode.
Sigh
Another slew of crimes, one perhaps too close for comfort. The wife of a faculty member from my department was murdered a few days ago. A scene cut out from a movie perhaps, a woman goes jogging alone on a path in a safe town, that is perhaps not really that safe after all.
She leaves behind a husband and four children. We can only hope that she is in a better place, and they can find somehow, to move along.
She leaves behind a husband and four children. We can only hope that she is in a better place, and they can find somehow, to move along.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Oops
I was really proud of myself when I went into my class today to teach. I had picked up a box of 'dustless chalk' and was all set with my problem set solutions and my handy transparencies. All I needed was an apple on my desk.
After the routine responseless hello-how-you-doin greeting, I discovered that I had forgotten to pick up a set of quizzes to be done in class. What followed was an embarassing episode where I mumbled to them about looking through their homework and doing some last minute studying while I sprinted across campus to go to the secret room to pick up the secret envelope of secret quizzes.
Graceful indeed.
After the routine responseless hello-how-you-doin greeting, I discovered that I had forgotten to pick up a set of quizzes to be done in class. What followed was an embarassing episode where I mumbled to them about looking through their homework and doing some last minute studying while I sprinted across campus to go to the secret room to pick up the secret envelope of secret quizzes.
Graceful indeed.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Thankyouverymuch
Life can sometimes come crashing down on you. My landlady calls me a few days ago, telling me that she wants to raise the rent because of the climbing costs of utilities. I told her that the internet she provided wasn't quite to par, and that I was at work and not at home most of the day, and thus did not warrant a $100 raise thankyouverymuch. She then told me if I wasn't happy, I could move out. And I told her, thankyouverymuch. Few days later, my bathroom springs a leak, the floor is soaking wet, and my basement starts flooding, soaking some of my belongings.
My non-English-speaking housemate too, is driving me up the wall. I volunteered to help baby-sit his son just because I am fond of little children, and I felt bad for him being a single parent. He ended up using me to watch his son day in and day out, cooking his child dinner, and giving his child showers while he manages to sneak out some midnights to what I can only assume to be a tryst in a casino. This kid, turned out not to be a three-year old boy, but a self-obsessed-whiny-crying-brat-monster. I don't deal with little children who demand on eating French Fries at 1am in the morning, and drinks Coca-Cola at 9am and kicks on wall while I'm trying to sleep in my room, thankyouverymuch.
And if all that wasn't bad enough, I also discover that my initial gut feeling that someone of close proximity had some feelings of animosity toward me turned out to be correct, thankyouverymuch.
But I can smell change in the air. Oh yes. Just wait.
My non-English-speaking housemate too, is driving me up the wall. I volunteered to help baby-sit his son just because I am fond of little children, and I felt bad for him being a single parent. He ended up using me to watch his son day in and day out, cooking his child dinner, and giving his child showers while he manages to sneak out some midnights to what I can only assume to be a tryst in a casino. This kid, turned out not to be a three-year old boy, but a self-obsessed-whiny-crying-brat-monster. I don't deal with little children who demand on eating French Fries at 1am in the morning, and drinks Coca-Cola at 9am and kicks on wall while I'm trying to sleep in my room, thankyouverymuch.
And if all that wasn't bad enough, I also discover that my initial gut feeling that someone of close proximity had some feelings of animosity toward me turned out to be correct, thankyouverymuch.
But I can smell change in the air. Oh yes. Just wait.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Fuiyoh!
After a quick perusal of my three professors's vitae, I've stumbled across a marvelous revelation. The three men imparting their intellect upon me daily, (MWF 10am-11am Dr. Watson, TR 9.30-10.50 Dr. Disney, 11-12.20 Dr. Lin to be precise) are alumnus of Ivy League schools. Yale, MIT and Princeton.
I mean, Yale, MIT and Princeton!
Wowwee!!! Gee whiz!!!
I feel smarter by osmosis already.
I mean, Yale, MIT and Princeton!
Wowwee!!! Gee whiz!!!
I feel smarter by osmosis already.
Sunday, September 3, 2006
Church vs. State
Church service today was a celebration to honour a long-serving pastor in the church I am attending. I like him, he seems sincere, driven and honest.
Somewhere in the middle of the ceremony, a member of the congregation was mentioning how much service this man had contributed to his community. To honour that, the church leadership had written to leaders of the community to ask for acknowledgement of his works. It was all very touching, but I raised a skeptical eyebrow when a plaque was presented from the White House, written by Mr.President (or more likely, his PR aides), thanking Pastor Al for his good works, and how Americans are deeply rooted in the Christian faith (?!?!?) and how the Pastor Al needs to continuing spreading 'love and mercy' (how about yourself Mr.President? Creating wars and rejecting the Kyoto Protocol aren't exactly acts of 'love and mercy'). And while the rest of the church stood up to its feet in applause, I suppressed my urge to run up to the pulpit screaming bloody fuck in regards to the blatant political campaign that was going on.
But this [entry] isn't about a politicking. Church has always been for me a place that encompasses heart & humanity, soul & spirituality. It transcends borders & backgrounds. Church has never been about tradition or custom, nor politics and policies, nor ritual and rules.
Enough is enough.
Food for thought: Disowning Conservative Politics, Evangelical Pastor Rattles Flock
Somewhere in the middle of the ceremony, a member of the congregation was mentioning how much service this man had contributed to his community. To honour that, the church leadership had written to leaders of the community to ask for acknowledgement of his works. It was all very touching, but I raised a skeptical eyebrow when a plaque was presented from the White House, written by Mr.President (or more likely, his PR aides), thanking Pastor Al for his good works, and how Americans are deeply rooted in the Christian faith (?!?!?) and how the Pastor Al needs to continuing spreading 'love and mercy' (how about yourself Mr.President? Creating wars and rejecting the Kyoto Protocol aren't exactly acts of 'love and mercy'). And while the rest of the church stood up to its feet in applause, I suppressed my urge to run up to the pulpit screaming bloody fuck in regards to the blatant political campaign that was going on.
But this [entry] isn't about a politicking. Church has always been for me a place that encompasses heart & humanity, soul & spirituality. It transcends borders & backgrounds. Church has never been about tradition or custom, nor politics and policies, nor ritual and rules.
Enough is enough.
Food for thought: Disowning Conservative Politics, Evangelical Pastor Rattles Flock
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Mary Very Easily Made John Sell Used News (Papers?)
The scientific world has, since today, observed a major change. Our solar system now only consists of 8 planets as poor Pluto was deemed no longer fit to be called a planet, but will now instead be more well-known Disney cartoon character (ahyuk! oh wait, that was Goofy right?). So much for the mnemonic device, Mary Very Easily Made John Sell Used News Papers (Mercury Venus Earth Mars Jupiter Saturn Uranus Pluto). Instead, now Mary Very Easily Made John See Used Nylons?
As for me, I might now just surf up E-bay and see if there's any nine planet solar system models/charts I can buy for cheap to store as a collectible. Who knows, it might be worth millions in the future! And I can tell my grandchildren, "When Popo was in school, there were nine planets! NINE! Not eight!" as they laugh behind my back, chuckling at their crazy popo who obviously doesn't know peanuts about basic science.
As for me, I might now just surf up E-bay and see if there's any nine planet solar system models/charts I can buy for cheap to store as a collectible. Who knows, it might be worth millions in the future! And I can tell my grandchildren, "When Popo was in school, there were nine planets! NINE! Not eight!" as they laugh behind my back, chuckling at their crazy popo who obviously doesn't know peanuts about basic science.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Holy Guacamole!
It seemed like it was going to be good day. I had a good day at work, then went to the gym for kwando and yoga class, and picked up a couple things at the grocery store before heading home. My agenda for the night was to watch the finale of So You Think You Can Dance and Project Runway while making lunch to bring to work tomorrow.
I decided on guacamole served with vegetable chips and promptly started mincing and mashing onions, chillies, peppers and avacados in a big bowl. My final touch was a fresh squeeze of lime juice for a tangy refreshing taste, but while slicing the not-so-ripe lime, my knife slipped and lacerated my ring finger (is that an sign that I was not made for matrimony?). My mind went to the hymn that I used to sing in church, "There is a fountain filled with blood, drawn from Emmanuel's veins", as blood came gushing out of my finger going all over the kitchen floor and sink. I gave a small yelp and quickly (Step 1:) put it under running water (Step 2:)while putting pressure on the wound. After a few moments, where I blissfully thought a band aid will make the finishing touches on the cut, I let go of my hand but watched woefully as more blood came gushing out while the skin on my finger flapped away from the finger. It didn't hurt then, and I was rather fascinated by how much blood I had and how the inside of my finger looked just like uncooked instant noodles (same color and texture!). As I was alone at home, I made a few frantic phone calls until I found a good buddy who came promptly to take me to the emergency room.
Two hours and seven stitches later, I got home and finished up my guacamole sans one uncut lime which I decided I will save for another dish at another time, when I can again summon the courage to use a knife.
I decided on guacamole served with vegetable chips and promptly started mincing and mashing onions, chillies, peppers and avacados in a big bowl. My final touch was a fresh squeeze of lime juice for a tangy refreshing taste, but while slicing the not-so-ripe lime, my knife slipped and lacerated my ring finger (is that an sign that I was not made for matrimony?). My mind went to the hymn that I used to sing in church, "There is a fountain filled with blood, drawn from Emmanuel's veins", as blood came gushing out of my finger going all over the kitchen floor and sink. I gave a small yelp and quickly (Step 1:) put it under running water (Step 2:)while putting pressure on the wound. After a few moments, where I blissfully thought a band aid will make the finishing touches on the cut, I let go of my hand but watched woefully as more blood came gushing out while the skin on my finger flapped away from the finger. It didn't hurt then, and I was rather fascinated by how much blood I had and how the inside of my finger looked just like uncooked instant noodles (same color and texture!). As I was alone at home, I made a few frantic phone calls until I found a good buddy who came promptly to take me to the emergency room.
Two hours and seven stitches later, I got home and finished up my guacamole sans one uncut lime which I decided I will save for another dish at another time, when I can again summon the courage to use a knife.
Wednesday, August 9, 2006
Op
Today, I went to the hospital for my first ever surgery. It was a quick procedure, I checked in by writing my name on a green card, and proceeded by watching a soap opera in the waiting room until a nurse came and called my name. Hopped onto the surgery chair and got myself covered in blue sheets, with a little cut-out hole over the to-be-operated-on area. My doctor (old and not cute, like I anticipated!) came into the room and got gloved up and numbed my arm. The procedure was pretty painless, I really couldn't feel a thing. It was quite relaxing in fact, just lying in the chair well the doc did his thing, and I was bored to the point where I was doing some Keegels whilst while he operated.
The quick twenty minute procedure was over in a jiffy. I was a really good patient, and the nurses ooh-aah-ed at my bravery. They would probably have given me a lollipop if I were ten years younger. I chatted with a couple of them, and waved my goodbyes with a cheery smile. Two hours and two painkillers later, my facade had made quite the turnaround. I whined and grumbled while my patient roommate complied with my wishes until I fell asleep. Whattaday.
The quick twenty minute procedure was over in a jiffy. I was a really good patient, and the nurses ooh-aah-ed at my bravery. They would probably have given me a lollipop if I were ten years younger. I chatted with a couple of them, and waved my goodbyes with a cheery smile. Two hours and two painkillers later, my facade had made quite the turnaround. I whined and grumbled while my patient roommate complied with my wishes until I fell asleep. Whattaday.
Sunday, August 6, 2006
A Brazilian Experience
Maybe it was the hot weather, or the fact that it was bikini season, or maybe just because, that prompted me to schedule an appointment at the beauty parlour on a lazy Saturday afternoon. When it came to my turn, I was ushered into a tiny corner of her salon, with soothing cream walls and a green ceiling. Jenny, my Vietnamese-American esthetician complimented my cute denim skirt which was, by that time, already folded up on the floor. I stared blankly into space as she snapped on her gum and smiled at me.
"First time?"
"Yep."
"I remember my first time, I screamed."
With that, she proceeded with her business with me. The very first strip was quite jarring and rather painful. By the end of the session, my toes were curled up and my fingers clutching the sides of the chair. But really, it wasn't too bad. It was rather bizzare experience, having someone staring intently at your crotch for half an hour whilst you keep your legs spread in rather odd positions. The results, however, are amazing.
"First time?"
"Yep."
"I remember my first time, I screamed."
With that, she proceeded with her business with me. The very first strip was quite jarring and rather painful. By the end of the session, my toes were curled up and my fingers clutching the sides of the chair. But really, it wasn't too bad. It was rather bizzare experience, having someone staring intently at your crotch for half an hour whilst you keep your legs spread in rather odd positions. The results, however, are amazing.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Pardon Me?
I was running an errand for my boss, picking up some packages, when I bumped into our janitor in the hallway. Young-ish, always helpful and ever smiling, our friendly morning encounters has placed our relationship somewhere between familiar strangers and I'll-nod-my-head-and-throw-you-a-smile acquaintances. My heels clacking on the tiled floors caught her attention on this warm afternoon, and she beamed as she bounded toward me, waving her arms intending to tell me something.
"No eat!!"
She pointed at my waistline and gestured like she was feeding herself. I cocked my head in confusion.
"My English not too good. But you, no eat!"
"Am I FAT?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"My English no good. Never mind."
She shook her head and then went on her way, leaving me dazed as I stood there with a box in my arms.
Does she mean I'm fat, and I need to stop eating? Or that I'm fine, and I shouldn't eat too much? Or that, (maybe, if her culture likes heavier women), she wants me to eat more and get a little more plush? Or maybe, she just wants me to stop eating all together so I stop dropping my Fruit Loops all over the office floor when I'm munching on them.
I need to take Spanish classes!
"No eat!!"
She pointed at my waistline and gestured like she was feeding herself. I cocked my head in confusion.
"My English not too good. But you, no eat!"
"Am I FAT?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"My English no good. Never mind."
She shook her head and then went on her way, leaving me dazed as I stood there with a box in my arms.
Does she mean I'm fat, and I need to stop eating? Or that I'm fine, and I shouldn't eat too much? Or that, (maybe, if her culture likes heavier women), she wants me to eat more and get a little more plush? Or maybe, she just wants me to stop eating all together so I stop dropping my Fruit Loops all over the office floor when I'm munching on them.
I need to take Spanish classes!
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Under the Knife
So my first visit to a plastic surgeon will not be what was imagined. It's not a new nose ala Nicole Kidman's or new set of (much fuller) twin peaks. I have an infection which needs to be taken out. Now I'm just hoping that my health insurance will be able to pay for everything up front, without me having to pay for anything up front.
We'll just hope the doc is cute. Probably not.
We'll just hope the doc is cute. Probably not.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Sports and Men
There's just something about men and sports. Nope, not those boys watching the telly while the MLB (mmm...), NBA (aaahh...), NHL (ooohhh...) and World Cup (sighs and faints) are playing (notice the non-mention of american football!). But those MEN on the boob tube, competing in them. Maybe it's some odd combination of spitting on the field, slapping each other's butts, and crying when they lose (so cute!), I am so drawn to them! Even ice hockey players with their broken noses and unshaven chins.
And the answer is YES, part of the reason I support Italy IS because the whole team is smokin' hot. And that they're good (but boring) players, of course. There's just something about them. I remember when Mario Jordan (UB basketballer) came into my office to pay his parking ticket, I was grinning from ear to ear when he paid his parking fines to me (!). I wish I could just make his tickets go away. Sigh...
Go Italy, Go Sabres, Go Yankees, Go Man U, Go Bulls!!!
P.S. I do like watching sports for sports, it's really not about the men. It's just an additional plus. A big one.
And the answer is YES, part of the reason I support Italy IS because the whole team is smokin' hot. And that they're good (but boring) players, of course. There's just something about them. I remember when Mario Jordan (UB basketballer) came into my office to pay his parking ticket, I was grinning from ear to ear when he paid his parking fines to me (!). I wish I could just make his tickets go away. Sigh...
Go Italy, Go Sabres, Go Yankees, Go Man U, Go Bulls!!!
P.S. I do like watching sports for sports, it's really not about the men. It's just an additional plus. A big one.
Friday, July 7, 2006
Mana Glamour?
Life can be so mundane. People go oooh aaah when they hear that I'm studying abroad. But mana glamour? My summer has been a flat line since my roadtrip on the eastern seaboard and the Sabres games. The most exciting thing that has happened since then is the launching of the new (but cumbersome) T2 Parking System and the new credit card machine in my second home a.k.a. the parking office. And also finding my favorite brand of grapefruit juice on sale at Tops.
I can't catch World Cup games because I'm stuck at work from 9am-5pm. I catch little highlights online and open a tiny screen with pop-up updates while my boss isn't looking. I'm barely making ends meet with my bills piling up faster than my tiny paycheck. I put in overtime at work because I have nothing better to do , and work overtime after overtime just because I have nothing exciting to look forward to.
My plans to watch India Arie and Shakespeare in the Park somehow didn't work out. I ended up staying home making sushi for lunch the next day whilst watching TV. My scrapbooks sit at one side with my half knitted scarf. I might as well put curlers in my hair and become a grandma. I need some excitement in my life!
Afterthought: I did ride a mechanical bull at happy hour after work. My mantra is "You're only 21 once". I'll do everything I can do now which would seem inappropriate when I'm 40. Well, almost everything.
I can't catch World Cup games because I'm stuck at work from 9am-5pm. I catch little highlights online and open a tiny screen with pop-up updates while my boss isn't looking. I'm barely making ends meet with my bills piling up faster than my tiny paycheck. I put in overtime at work because I have nothing better to do , and work overtime after overtime just because I have nothing exciting to look forward to.
My plans to watch India Arie and Shakespeare in the Park somehow didn't work out. I ended up staying home making sushi for lunch the next day whilst watching TV. My scrapbooks sit at one side with my half knitted scarf. I might as well put curlers in my hair and become a grandma. I need some excitement in my life!
Afterthought: I did ride a mechanical bull at happy hour after work. My mantra is "You're only 21 once". I'll do everything I can do now which would seem inappropriate when I'm 40. Well, almost everything.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
De javu
So, I was fish-sitting for a friend, and it happened again. I killed another fish. Again. I was sitting at the tank, dropping some food into the tank, watching Spike, Mr.T and Spartacus swim. Except Spartacus wasn't swimming anymore. In fact, there were two parts of Spartacus. Spartacus Tail lying near the front of the aquarium, and Spartacus Head lying to the left side of it. Spartacus was decapitated. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why. I swear, I fed the fish every morning and evening.
I just don't know how to break the news to the owner.
"Hey dude, how's your trip going? Oh yea, Spartacus is dead."
I did:
I just don't know how to break the news to the owner.
"Hey dude, how's your trip going? Oh yea, Spartacus is dead."
I did:
- leave about three missed calls
- one panicky voicemail asking for him to call me back
- one vague e-mail asking for him to call me
What am I to say? Or shall I just get a replacement? Spartacus II. He will never know!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
When I go grocery shopping
- I always go for the longest checkout line so I can pick up a copy of trashy magazines to read so I know if Jessica is furious at Nick, the name of Brangelina's baby and their latest humanitarian crusade, to check how thin Nicole Richie is, and the latest hottest beach bodies around.
- There's always a raging debate in my mind if I should get that Almond Hershey chocolate bar. (I don't 75% of the time)
- I like pushing the cart. Don't try to be gentlemanly and do it for me. I just like pushing the cart. Until I get bored. Then you push the cart.
- I always go for low fat. (Juice, Salad dressing, I Can't Believe It's Not Butter...)
- I always eat the nuts at the nut section. Sorry.
- I always buy more than what's on my list.
- I always forget something on the list.
- I love $5/2 strawberries. I only buy one.
- I (try to) skip the cookie aisle.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
Indulging in Chick Lit
So I was at the airport, browsing the Hudson News store for an interesting light read for my plane trip (a girl can't knit a scarf for hours, you know), when I stumbled across a whole new section which probably started after the Bridget Jones Diary craze.
Bridget Jones was awesome, but this genre has become dangerously off limits material, almost like the romance section in the bookstore. It's always about the girl next door, who has to deal with her weight issues (but manages to lose 15.5 pounds from about of dysentry or a stint in jail in Thailand, haha), looking for THE ONE (Mark Darcy!), dealing with a BITCH in her life (sister, boss, neighbor, girl who steals the boyfriend), has to deal with a jerk (the ex who cheated, maybe the boss again, or the neighbor), yea, you get the picture. Nevertheless, I wasn't too crazy about attacking some serious books on a plane, so I went ahead and got myself a copy of the one that had raving reviews (it was a toss up between the Bergdorf Blondes and The Devil Wears Prada) and settled for TDWP.
In short, it sucks, and I am highly disappointed. I don't mind a fluffy plot, but it lacks wit and humor, and her An-dree-Ahs boyfriend does not appeal to me, neither does the dark brooding man in the shadows.
Maybe I should have stuck to knitting after all.
Bridget Jones was awesome, but this genre has become dangerously off limits material, almost like the romance section in the bookstore. It's always about the girl next door, who has to deal with her weight issues (but manages to lose 15.5 pounds from about of dysentry or a stint in jail in Thailand, haha), looking for THE ONE (Mark Darcy!), dealing with a BITCH in her life (sister, boss, neighbor, girl who steals the boyfriend), has to deal with a jerk (the ex who cheated, maybe the boss again, or the neighbor), yea, you get the picture. Nevertheless, I wasn't too crazy about attacking some serious books on a plane, so I went ahead and got myself a copy of the one that had raving reviews (it was a toss up between the Bergdorf Blondes and The Devil Wears Prada) and settled for TDWP.
In short, it sucks, and I am highly disappointed. I don't mind a fluffy plot, but it lacks wit and humor, and her An-dree-Ahs boyfriend does not appeal to me, neither does the dark brooding man in the shadows.
Maybe I should have stuck to knitting after all.
Snapshots
Arlington National Cemetery, VA
U.S. Capitol!
James and I
Seneca Rocks, West Virginia
White-water rafting
Blue Ridge Mountain, Shenendoah River, Country Road...
Cute Panda! Washington DC Zoo
The FamilyWednesday, May 17, 2006
Grand Expectations
Number of days since graduation: 4
Number of times the word "grandchildren" were mentioned on the road trip: ~7
My parents need to hang out with younger people without grandchildren.
Number of times the word "grandchildren" were mentioned on the road trip: ~7
My parents need to hang out with younger people without grandchildren.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Is this what love is?
I am on a road trip with my parents on the eastern seaboard of the United States. I have been up since 4.30am, for the past 21 hours, taking my sister to the airport, running errands, buying groceries, meeting people, driving in bad weather from Buffalo to Pittsburgh. I am dead tired.
My daddy is in the next bed, his snoring interrupting my attempts to sleep. He plops onto the bed, and falls asleep immediately, not with cute gentle snores (which I might be able to deal with), but irregular snort-snort ones. I look at my mummy, exasperated, but she just smiles.
"I try to sleep first, usually, but I'll just sleep the other way so it's not in my ear."
She's fast asleep too.
They're so cute together.
My daddy is in the next bed, his snoring interrupting my attempts to sleep. He plops onto the bed, and falls asleep immediately, not with cute gentle snores (which I might be able to deal with), but irregular snort-snort ones. I look at my mummy, exasperated, but she just smiles.
"I try to sleep first, usually, but I'll just sleep the other way so it's not in my ear."
She's fast asleep too.
They're so cute together.
Flawed
My papa graduated with top honors (one of the four) in University Malaya in Engineering. My older sister graduated summa cum laude in English with I-dunno-what accomplishments under her belt. I just managed to graduate cum laude in Chemistry and Medicinal Chemistry with some vague mention of academic excellence and distinction (it's a farce) by my department. I see my mum scanning the pages formore mention of her baby daughter's intelligence (but alas! finding none). I scraped through decently, but never as brilliantly as INSERT NAME HERE.
To be more intelligent, to earn admiration.
To be thinner and more beautiful, to garner attention.
To be more ambitious, to gain respect.
Oh to be.
To be more intelligent, to earn admiration.
To be thinner and more beautiful, to garner attention.
To be more ambitious, to gain respect.
Oh to be.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Joseph, Tell Me
I had a terrible nightmare yesterday night.
I dreamt I got married and I was at my wedding ceremony. It was a really terrible wedding, held at a really ratty place, and I had a terrible wedding dress on. For some reason a butcher knife was packed in my suitcase (I had a suitcase to prepare for my wedding). Everyone was excited and annoying me. The groom was actually someone I knew ( I won't mention who because it would be scandalous. ROTFL when I think about it. )
When I entered the church, guys I used to like were peppered all over the seats. Every second when I was walking down the aisle, my head was screaming, my heart was full of dread, and I felt like puking. I felt like running, like calling it off. I felt like saying NO, I DON'T. I felt like I was walking to an electric chair.
I woke up just before I reached the end, thank God.
Is that supposed to mean anything?
I dreamt I got married and I was at my wedding ceremony. It was a really terrible wedding, held at a really ratty place, and I had a terrible wedding dress on. For some reason a butcher knife was packed in my suitcase (I had a suitcase to prepare for my wedding). Everyone was excited and annoying me. The groom was actually someone I knew ( I won't mention who because it would be scandalous. ROTFL when I think about it. )
When I entered the church, guys I used to like were peppered all over the seats. Every second when I was walking down the aisle, my head was screaming, my heart was full of dread, and I felt like puking. I felt like running, like calling it off. I felt like saying NO, I DON'T. I felt like I was walking to an electric chair.
I woke up just before I reached the end, thank God.
Is that supposed to mean anything?
Graduation
My parents are on a plane right now, flying over to see their baby daughter graduate. I sometimes wish that they weren't coming, just because I'll be a face in a sea of hundreds, probably thousands. It's going to be a long drawn out 2 hour long ceremony with me having no significant part in it. It would be different if I graduated with a 4.0 GPA with super honors or was a somebody, but I'll just be the girl with literally 5 seconds on stage with a really cute pair of white shoes ($65 with a 15% discount!). There's too many people in the world (and UB) for little me to be any special.
Oh wells. Perfectionism kills my spirit.
Regardless of my apprehension about graduation, they will be here in T minus ~40 hours. Things to do include:
I also realized I spent more time and effort thinking about my outfit for graduation (underneath the cap and gown) more than I did for writing those CHE414 Instrumental Analysis lab reports. Priorities, priorities.
Oh wells. Perfectionism kills my spirit.
Regardless of my apprehension about graduation, they will be here in T minus ~40 hours. Things to do include:
- Clear up the beer bottles lying around (99% aren't mine, 1% mmm)
- Hide that bottle of Jack Daniels (not mine but nevertheless in the apartment)
- Clear up the apartment (I hate packing)
- Hide half my shoes so they think I spent money on useful things like books and food
- Hide half my clothes so they think I spent money on useful things like books and food
- Hide the latest shopping bags so they think I spent money on useful things like books and food
- Plan the road trip and book hotels for the next couple weeks
I also realized I spent more time and effort thinking about my outfit for graduation (underneath the cap and gown) more than I did for writing those CHE414 Instrumental Analysis lab reports. Priorities, priorities.
Monday, May 8, 2006
H-O-T-T
It was a slow day in the office. Another mundane 9-5 work day (I actually get in at about 10.30 despite my best of intentions, will wake up on time the next time, PROMISE).
Did the routine afternoon run across the building tunnel to get the mail. On my way back, I caught sight of this gloriously half naked guy in shorts playing football (or as we say in America, soccer lah) with sweat glistening on his broad brown shoulders down to his back.
I gasped, involuntarily.
The last time I was left speechless by a man was when I was watching Brad Pitt and Eric Bana in THAT scene in Troy. Mmmmm.
Did the routine afternoon run across the building tunnel to get the mail. On my way back, I caught sight of this gloriously half naked guy in shorts playing football (or as we say in America, soccer lah) with sweat glistening on his broad brown shoulders down to his back.
I gasped, involuntarily.
The last time I was left speechless by a man was when I was watching Brad Pitt and Eric Bana in THAT scene in Troy. Mmmmm.
Friday, May 5, 2006
I Want My Piano
It's another late night. The night is quiet and cool, my mind is at rest. I'm glad I'm busy with the mundane task of packing, I'm relieved at the prospect of having a fairly easy class exam on Monday. It keeps my mind busy, but not hectic. I'm glad.
It's at times like these, my vulnerability scares me. These quiet cool nights. The cool breeze knowingly caresses my hair and puts goosebumps on my skin.
I know in my heart that I'm not as strong as I thought I was, as I seem to be. My independence is dependent on the kindness of others. My stoicism rocks with the smallest movements. I hope when I shouldn't, I trust who I shouldn't, I care for what I shouldn't.
I am susceptible and gullible. My armor of confidence is an illusion. It works during the day, but on nights like these, I am exposed.
It's at times like these, my vulnerability scares me. These quiet cool nights. The cool breeze knowingly caresses my hair and puts goosebumps on my skin.
I know in my heart that I'm not as strong as I thought I was, as I seem to be. My independence is dependent on the kindness of others. My stoicism rocks with the smallest movements. I hope when I shouldn't, I trust who I shouldn't, I care for what I shouldn't.
I am susceptible and gullible. My armor of confidence is an illusion. It works during the day, but on nights like these, I am exposed.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Being Dangled
I just activated my new cell phone =)
Much better than the old one, which was the size of a large candy bar. This one is a cute flip phone, nothing too fancy, just better. One small gripe though, it does not have any loophole to put a dangly-thing.
I've never been a fan of those dangly-things. For quite a while, I never understood why girls put those dangly-things on their phones, from their names, to cute cartoon characters, psychedelic seizure-starting flashing buttons to tinkering bells. But then I got one myself when I went back home in December, something not so eye-catching, not so la-la-mui, a little toned down (IMHO) but still a dangly-thing. And now that I can't put it on my phone, I'm a little miffed. But hey, maybe I'll become who I used to be again. Right after I take this Hello Kitty band aid off my toe.
When did I start liking cute girly stuff?!?!? O_o
This phase has gotta go.
Much better than the old one, which was the size of a large candy bar. This one is a cute flip phone, nothing too fancy, just better. One small gripe though, it does not have any loophole to put a dangly-thing.
I've never been a fan of those dangly-things. For quite a while, I never understood why girls put those dangly-things on their phones, from their names, to cute cartoon characters, psychedelic seizure-starting flashing buttons to tinkering bells. But then I got one myself when I went back home in December, something not so eye-catching, not so la-la-mui, a little toned down (IMHO) but still a dangly-thing. And now that I can't put it on my phone, I'm a little miffed. But hey, maybe I'll become who I used to be again. Right after I take this Hello Kitty band aid off my toe.
When did I start liking cute girly stuff?!?!? O_o
This phase has gotta go.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Medical Bunny
The biocycle medical study is finally over!
Two months of peeing in a cup, getting my arms pricked for blood until I have trackmarks that would make any drug junkie envious, and those early early mornings, I am finally $500 (before tax) richer.
I was probably one of the few women (the other women being those who were in the study), who woke up at 7am every morning, peed on a stick, discover that I am in my prime to get knocked up and make babies, and go back right to bed after hitting the snooze button without engaging in a lil' action with a non-existent mister.
I have discovered I have low blood pressure ( 88/52 mm/Hg ).
I have discovered, to my dismay, I am not quite 5 ft 3 inches. I am in fact 5 ft 2.5 inches, or something redonkulous like that, not quite 160cm, thus, making me come to the conclusion that I am in fact a midget and making high heels my next best friend.
I have discovered, that I am in fact not pregnant. They let me take the test twice. I could have told them that with absolute certainty. But no, waste those test sticks. Also, I am STD free. (Also could have told them that). Yippee.
I have discovered that I have fat arms. Yes, you heard me. Fat arms. My body fat is a little below average, but the fat content in my arms are 25%, making my arms the fattest part of my body. Even my boobs and butt put together couldn't even beat the fat content of my arms. I either have really fat arms, or really small boobs/booty. Or both. Hmmm. How in the world do you get fat arms? More importantly, how do you get rid of fat arms?
But, oh, did I mention, I am $500 (before tax) richer?
Well, the check has yet to arrive.
Two months of peeing in a cup, getting my arms pricked for blood until I have trackmarks that would make any drug junkie envious, and those early early mornings, I am finally $500 (before tax) richer.
I was probably one of the few women (the other women being those who were in the study), who woke up at 7am every morning, peed on a stick, discover that I am in my prime to get knocked up and make babies, and go back right to bed after hitting the snooze button without engaging in a lil' action with a non-existent mister.
I have discovered I have low blood pressure ( 88/52 mm/Hg ).
I have discovered, to my dismay, I am not quite 5 ft 3 inches. I am in fact 5 ft 2.5 inches, or something redonkulous like that, not quite 160cm, thus, making me come to the conclusion that I am in fact a midget and making high heels my next best friend.
I have discovered, that I am in fact not pregnant. They let me take the test twice. I could have told them that with absolute certainty. But no, waste those test sticks. Also, I am STD free. (Also could have told them that). Yippee.
I have discovered that I have fat arms. Yes, you heard me. Fat arms. My body fat is a little below average, but the fat content in my arms are 25%, making my arms the fattest part of my body. Even my boobs and butt put together couldn't even beat the fat content of my arms. I either have really fat arms, or really small boobs/booty. Or both. Hmmm. How in the world do you get fat arms? More importantly, how do you get rid of fat arms?
But, oh, did I mention, I am $500 (before tax) richer?
Well, the check has yet to arrive.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
The Gods Must Be Laughing
Isn't it funny, in a twisted way, that I decided to re-take a class that I had passed, but did not do too well, thinking I could do better, only to discover, to my dismay, that I will do worse, than I ever did before, and that the latter grade, will be the one to account for that particular course?
We're out of the Dean's List this semester, and just hoping to graduate cum laude. magna? summa? nada.
We're out of the Dean's List this semester, and just hoping to graduate cum laude. magna? summa? nada.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Homeless
I had an interview scheduled for Thursday which I showed up fifteen minutes earlier only to find out forty five minutes later that THE BIG GUY had not shown up. Only to find out two business days later that I didn't get the job that I applied for, which I got an interview for, which did not happen.
Somehow, I feel like the rug has been yanked from under my feet.
I'm homeless for the summer.
Somehow, I feel like the rug has been yanked from under my feet.
I'm homeless for the summer.
Malaysia, Oh Tanah Airku
PDA Ban
Sometimes you wonder if the government has gone crazy. Aren't there better things to do than to catch couples kissing on park benches? Every Malaysian couple should pick a Saturday, say at about 11am, take a train down to KLCC park, and make out like crazy. Thousands of couples, in a big kissing orgy.
Let's see how many tickets you can write.
Sometimes you wonder if the government has gone crazy. Aren't there better things to do than to catch couples kissing on park benches? Every Malaysian couple should pick a Saturday, say at about 11am, take a train down to KLCC park, and make out like crazy. Thousands of couples, in a big kissing orgy.
Let's see how many tickets you can write.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
1-800-SEX-TALK
Melissa: Parking and Transportation Services, how can I help you?
Guy: Hi, I'm at the mall, and the mall shuttle isn't here yet. Could you tell me when it will arrive?
Melissa: The lights on Maple Road are down, which are slowing down the shuttles, but they are currently still running.
Guy: When will it be here?
Melissa: *Checks It should be pulling in front of Friday's right now.
Guy: Oh, right. I see it. Thanks.
Melissa: You're welcome.
Guy: What's your name?
Melissa: Melissa.
Guy: Can I lick your pussy, Melissa?
Melissa: What?
Guy: Can I lick your pussy, Melissa?
*CLICK*
or perhaps it was
*SLAM*
Guy: Hi, I'm at the mall, and the mall shuttle isn't here yet. Could you tell me when it will arrive?
Melissa: The lights on Maple Road are down, which are slowing down the shuttles, but they are currently still running.
Guy: When will it be here?
Melissa: *Checks It should be pulling in front of Friday's right now.
Guy: Oh, right. I see it. Thanks.
Melissa: You're welcome.
Guy: What's your name?
Melissa: Melissa.
Guy: Can I lick your pussy, Melissa?
Melissa: What?
Guy: Can I lick your pussy, Melissa?
*CLICK*
or perhaps it was
*SLAM*
Wednesday, March 8, 2006
Mata Sepet Hidung Penyet
Mata Sepet Hidung Penyet. Slitty eyes, Pancake nose.
I have a pancake nose. I invested some dough in purchasing new lab goggles a few days back. Come Monday, my shiny new blue plastic border goggles was placed on my nose for my Instrumental Analysis lab. Not even 10 seconds later, the goggles slid down my nose, almost resting on my lips. Unfazed, I put them back on, only for that to happen again.
I stuck the pair of goggles on an ang moh friend's face only to have it rest perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Lab goggles no likey Asian people with pancake noses. Boohoo.
I didn't save the receipt to the goggles. Perhaps I should invest in a new nose eh?
I have a pancake nose. I invested some dough in purchasing new lab goggles a few days back. Come Monday, my shiny new blue plastic border goggles was placed on my nose for my Instrumental Analysis lab. Not even 10 seconds later, the goggles slid down my nose, almost resting on my lips. Unfazed, I put them back on, only for that to happen again.
I stuck the pair of goggles on an ang moh friend's face only to have it rest perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Lab goggles no likey Asian people with pancake noses. Boohoo.
I didn't save the receipt to the goggles. Perhaps I should invest in a new nose eh?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
The Easiest Button to Button
I like pushing buttons.
I was at work yesterday, putting in a little OT in the evening while some hearings were going on at the PaTS (Parking and Transportation Services), traffic was slow, homework was done, all nice and easy you know?
Then I saw the button.
It looked so unassuming, it was white, looked like a doorbell button. Just so pushable. I never noticed it before. I reached over and pushed it, expecting a light to flicker, room service to come, something. Nothing happened. So I pushed it summore. And summore. Push Push Push. Push Push Push summore. It was so pushable. You know how some buttons are.
Five minutes later, a police officer comes running into the office all tensed up. "Good evening officer, how can I help you?". "What's wrong?!" he asks! "Nothing...nothing is wrong," I reply.
"Well, someone just pushed the panic button in here."
Oh My God.
I blubbered my apologies, a million times over.
Never again.
The easiest button to button.
I was at work yesterday, putting in a little OT in the evening while some hearings were going on at the PaTS (Parking and Transportation Services), traffic was slow, homework was done, all nice and easy you know?
Then I saw the button.
It looked so unassuming, it was white, looked like a doorbell button. Just so pushable. I never noticed it before. I reached over and pushed it, expecting a light to flicker, room service to come, something. Nothing happened. So I pushed it summore. And summore. Push Push Push. Push Push Push summore. It was so pushable. You know how some buttons are.
Five minutes later, a police officer comes running into the office all tensed up. "Good evening officer, how can I help you?". "What's wrong?!" he asks! "Nothing...nothing is wrong," I reply.
"Well, someone just pushed the panic button in here."
Oh My God.
I blubbered my apologies, a million times over.
Never again.
The easiest button to button.
Thursday, February 2, 2006
Happy (?) Chinese New Year
Chinese New Year.
I guess it's true when people say that you don't know how something is such a part of you until it's taken away from you. Please give me my Chinese New Year back.
No more kuih kapit. No more school holidays. No sitting in the back seat of the car visiting relatives. No more aunts commenting on how fat you've grown and about that pimple on your forehead and how they want to pop it. No more gambling, mahjong addicted chor dai di addicted uncles. No more pouring cups of tea (or coca-cola if you prefer) for visitors. No more waiting for my little ang pow of money after the tea business is done.
Instead, I sit in the lobby of the building I live in handing out toilet paper (two rolls only!) to residents. It's Chinese New Year! I yell at them. It's Chinese New Year! Oi! Gong xi, Gong xi!! It's Chinese New Year! Xin nian kuai le! It's Chinese New Year! Oi!
But you know what? It's not Chinese New Year here. It's just another day.
I guess it's true when people say that you don't know how something is such a part of you until it's taken away from you. Please give me my Chinese New Year back.
No more kuih kapit. No more school holidays. No sitting in the back seat of the car visiting relatives. No more aunts commenting on how fat you've grown and about that pimple on your forehead and how they want to pop it. No more gambling, mahjong addicted chor dai di addicted uncles. No more pouring cups of tea (or coca-cola if you prefer) for visitors. No more waiting for my little ang pow of money after the tea business is done.
Instead, I sit in the lobby of the building I live in handing out toilet paper (two rolls only!) to residents. It's Chinese New Year! I yell at them. It's Chinese New Year! Oi! Gong xi, Gong xi!! It's Chinese New Year! Xin nian kuai le! It's Chinese New Year! Oi!
But you know what? It's not Chinese New Year here. It's just another day.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Extra Pocket Money
I am the epitome of a broke college student.
I am employed in a job which compensates me for free board.
And most recently, I am considering being one of those medical test bunnies! Yup! I called one of those ambiguous phone numbers about a research project regarding bio-cycles of women.
Are you a woman? Check.
Not on medication or oral contraceptives? Check.
Any history of STDs? No S, how to TD? Check.
Any questions? No.
I called back an hour later though.
"You're not going to inject me with hormones, are you? Or err...do weird stuff to me?"
"No."
Pause. "Oh, cool, OK."
If it pays me X dollars, why not? We'll see how it goes. I might still freak out. Hey, looks like I'm two steps away from selling my eggs to barren couples. If you're interested in helping out with the pilot program, call (716)MEL-EGGS.
I am employed in a job which compensates me for free board.
And most recently, I am considering being one of those medical test bunnies! Yup! I called one of those ambiguous phone numbers about a research project regarding bio-cycles of women.
Are you a woman? Check.
Not on medication or oral contraceptives? Check.
Any history of STDs? No S, how to TD? Check.
Any questions? No.
I called back an hour later though.
"You're not going to inject me with hormones, are you? Or err...do weird stuff to me?"
"No."
Pause. "Oh, cool, OK."
If it pays me X dollars, why not? We'll see how it goes. I might still freak out. Hey, looks like I'm two steps away from selling my eggs to barren couples. If you're interested in helping out with the pilot program, call (716)MEL-EGGS.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Cooking Lessons
I made soup with my nifty crockpot yesterday. A traditional family recipe, ABC tong, literally translated to ABC soup. I don't know why it's named that, there aren't any alphabets floating in it. The only thing in the ingredients I can think of that associates with the name is carrot.
C for carrot. But anyhoos...
Other than that, there are potatoes, tomatoes, onions and meat in it, all boiled together into a delicious wholesome soup. I hate onions though. I wasn't in the mood for peeling and cutting onions either, so I came up with a brilliant solution of not putting onions in my ABC tong. I never eat them anyways.
Fast forward to a day later, me ladling out my soup in a bowl, I discovered to my dismay that the soup lacked a little ooomph. ONIONS.
So here folks, is a cooking lesson. There are things in life which you might not like, but they do add up to the ooomph in our life. Ain't that amazing?!?
So to all the onions in my life, thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I still hate you.
C for carrot. But anyhoos...
Other than that, there are potatoes, tomatoes, onions and meat in it, all boiled together into a delicious wholesome soup. I hate onions though. I wasn't in the mood for peeling and cutting onions either, so I came up with a brilliant solution of not putting onions in my ABC tong. I never eat them anyways.
Fast forward to a day later, me ladling out my soup in a bowl, I discovered to my dismay that the soup lacked a little ooomph. ONIONS.
So here folks, is a cooking lesson. There are things in life which you might not like, but they do add up to the ooomph in our life. Ain't that amazing?!?
So to all the onions in my life, thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I still hate you.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Ctrl+Z
Perhaps, this is how Pandora felt. And just like the proverbial fruit in the Garden of Eden, taking a bite of it, there is no turning back. My life needs to be piloted with a keyboard equipped with a Ctrl+Z button.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost is mocking me.
UNDO UNDO UNDO!
but cannot.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost is mocking me.
UNDO UNDO UNDO!
but cannot.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Empat Sekawan
Text messages. Phone calls. Plans are ready. 7.30pm.
It's just like Sex and the City. Minus the sex perhaps. And in a different city. No Sex and a Different City. Just like that. Coffee at the usual joint, four girls pondering over what suprises life has in store around the bend. More questions than answers. More laughter than questions.
From juvenile schoolgirls in turquoise pinafores to shoe-crazy not-girls-not-yet-women. Yes, we've evolved! Only to know that there's so much more to know. But there's always still time to spend an hour or two sitting in a circle with four mugs of coffee, the constant witness to Empat Sekawan.
It's just like Sex and the City. Minus the sex perhaps. And in a different city. No Sex and a Different City. Just like that. Coffee at the usual joint, four girls pondering over what suprises life has in store around the bend. More questions than answers. More laughter than questions.
From juvenile schoolgirls in turquoise pinafores to shoe-crazy not-girls-not-yet-women. Yes, we've evolved! Only to know that there's so much more to know. But there's always still time to spend an hour or two sitting in a circle with four mugs of coffee, the constant witness to Empat Sekawan.
Monday, January 2, 2006
Take That
Do you ever get those moments, when you have the wittiest cleverest retort, only perhaps just too late. Here is mine.
Miles up in the air, my airplane seat comfortably (as it can be) reclined as far down as it an airplane seat can recline, I was drifting slowly but surely into some semblance of sleep when. . . I felt the thud-thud-thud of tiny kiddy feet kicking my seat. Breathe, breathe. I turn back, muster a smile, and oh-so-nicely say,
"Your son..oops...daughter (guilty in the charge of gender stereotyping) is kicking my chair."
Apologies accepted. Okay. Cool. But this little spawn of the devil imp keeps on thud-thud-thud my chair. thud-thud-thud. Okay Cool. Tell the mum again, albeit a little more harshly. Thud-thud-thud continues. All the way from Tokyo to Kuala Lumpur.
OKAY. If that devil-imp ever reads my blog, or her mum, here's to wishing I threw my hot green tea on your lap, screamed and created a hullabaloo because NOBODY should ever have to put up with a kid going thud-thud-thud on an airplane. The next kid who does that to me, WOE ON YOU.
Miles up in the air, my airplane seat comfortably (as it can be) reclined as far down as it an airplane seat can recline, I was drifting slowly but surely into some semblance of sleep when. . . I felt the thud-thud-thud of tiny kiddy feet kicking my seat. Breathe, breathe. I turn back, muster a smile, and oh-so-nicely say,
"Your son..oops...daughter (guilty in the charge of gender stereotyping) is kicking my chair."
Apologies accepted. Okay. Cool. But this little spawn of the devil imp keeps on thud-thud-thud my chair. thud-thud-thud. Okay Cool. Tell the mum again, albeit a little more harshly. Thud-thud-thud continues. All the way from Tokyo to Kuala Lumpur.
OKAY. If that devil-imp ever reads my blog, or her mum, here's to wishing I threw my hot green tea on your lap, screamed and created a hullabaloo because NOBODY should ever have to put up with a kid going thud-thud-thud on an airplane. The next kid who does that to me, WOE ON YOU.
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