Out Is Through

I never did like college. Leaving hometown for a few years to discover the advantage of group study and not having the slightest idea of what I was doing was not my idea of tertiary education. Neither was getting ragged by seniors who mysteriously had Winter, Spring, Summer & Fall in their calendar.

Not to say I regret either. I did learn a thing or two about life. Some, the hard way. But somehow, I made it through. Either by grade point average or otherwise, I made it through. It’s over. I don’t have to put up with New Kids On the Block or Debbie Gibson anymore.

The thing is, whatever heartbreaks we are going through right now will pass. We can try to find a way out. But all the time, there is no way out. Because the only way out is through.

So I’m going to take it easy and cheerfully accept divine decree. This heartbreak will pass. It will. I bet you.

Happy Tip #1

It just occured to me that sometimes, in order to be happy, all it takes is to make other people happy, even though we are not happy doing it.

Why I don't want to start a business

Starting a business…now THAT’s an attractive proposal. No boss. No official work time. No stress.

It crossed your mind too at one time. No? Don’t lie. I know. Because you see, when it comes to waging war, we all think the same. Business is like our armpits. Doesn’t matter what gender or race we are, the time when they smell bad, we all stink EXACTLY the same. Nobody produces a different smell.

You can give many reasons to start a business – more time with family, more flexible hours, more money etc. When I want to start a business, it’s always about passion. The thrill of living comes from passion. For example, I have passion for cars. And so it occurred to me to open up a shop/showroom to sell cars or car accessories or die-cast cars or anything and everything car. I also have passion for good books written by great writers. And so it occurred to me to set up a bookstore.

But what stopped me from pursuing my business? Money. Not for capital. But how much I would make. I might enjoy having my own business. I just don’t want money-managing gets in the way. It would spoil my enjoyment. So I’d rather work and earn my wage, and only care about how I’d spend it.

So starting a business isn’t always about the money. Not starting a business is.

I moustache you a question

I finally came to the decision that today was the day I should shave. Most parts of my body, and not just the face. But especially the face.

So there I was standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror. Naked. And extremely muscular in all the wrong places. I am ugly. But that’s ok ‘cos so are you.

What I don’t understand is, why on earth and for heaven’s sake does my moustache grow upwards? If I pout my lips, my moustache will meet my nose hair and will stick like Velcro.

So with vengeful strokes of the sharpest shaving blade, I cropped them sonovabitches off my face and face the truth – I can never grow a moustache.

Toyota Vios is a ladies' car, confirmed

Whichever way you look at it, the Vios is a car made for women.

You must have seen the TV commercial where a guy bangs into a glass door, has himself accidentally splashed with water and experiences other unfortunate events and when he finally reaches his car (a Toyota Vios), a group of girls enviously comment, “Ooh, he is so lucky” (referring to him owning the car). Now, what can we say about the commercial?

1. Evidently displayed by a series of unfortunate events, the guy is portrayed as being unlucky. Unlucky. Period. And that would include owning the Vios. Lucky for a girl to own, but unlucky for a man!

2. The people who think that the guy owning the Vios is a lucky man are girls. So only female drivers should find the Vios appealing.

Like the Honda City and Hyundai Accent, the Vios is targeted to women drivers. Doesn’t matter if the City receives the Mugen treatment, or the Accent is the RS version, or the Vios fitted with TRD kit that includes lowered suspension, loud exhaust and high rise spoilers. If you are a real man, stay away from these models.

Need more proof that the Vios is not a man’s car? Try to locate where the vanity mirror is. No, you won’t find it at the back of the sunvisor on the passenger’s side. You’ll find it on the driver’s side! Bingo!

My car...'till death do us part

Mullet haircut, oversized clothes, synthesizer-rich music…what was there to like about the ‘80s? Almost everything about the 80’s was wrong, except of course, the automotive industry.

Audi gave us the Quattro setting the benchmark for 4WD systems on passenger cars. Peugeot gave us the 205, a hatch so hot, the latest incarnation, the 206 fails to uplive the original. Lancia gave us the Delta Intergrale and became one of world’s rally icons. Ferrari gave us their most beautiful creation, the 288 GTO and their Testarossa took the world by storm.

Here in Malaysia, nobody drives the Quattro. The 205 is extremely rare. The Delta was never introduced to the Malaysian public. And the prancing horses were too astronomous in maintenance cost even by the standards of the Malaysian rich and famous.

But thanks to the Almighty, BMW created the E30. When it first came out in Malaysia, only lawyers and doctors could afford it. Now, almost everybody can own this adorable baby bimmer. This is my fourth E30, and it's a 325i, meaning it's got 2.5 litre of manhood proppelled by 6 smooth cylinders churning out 170 horses. And I am blogging it because the last time I checked, there’s no brand new car out there that is worth buying!

Polygamy from another perspective

I am against polygamy. Not that it’s not permissible, because it is. Not because I can’t afford it, although I admit I can’t. But because I believe men (bar the prophet) can never be just. That’s from a man’s point of view. Now that I’ve set the record straight, let me talk about polygamy from a woman’s perspective.

Before I do that, let me put on my thinking bra and panties so that I’ll think like a woman. Wow, now THAT feels weird! I just realised that the distance between the belly button and the crotch is further in women.

Now let’s say I am either a single career woman or a 30 year old career mom of one kid whose husband passed away long enough for me to get it over. Destiny has it that I meet a 60 year old man who is stinking rich, married to a 55 year old woman and has “adult” kids. This man is healthy, looks good for his age and haven’t had sex since the wife menopaused about 8 years ago. I am not saying he’s hitting on me, because he’s not. He’s just being a good friend. But me, a mid-age widow who doesn’t feel attractive, obviously enjoy the attention I get.

Like any woman, I am against polygamy.

I don’t know how this friendship will end. Should we remain as friends, then all is well. Should I end up being his 2nd wife…not to say all is hell, but I‘d like to emphasise that his wealth is not the reason why I am with him because I have a career which I can survive on. But his wealth is the reason why I approve polygamy in his case because he can afford it, unlike some men who marry more than one and end up being broke and bring depression to the entire marriage institution.

So should we end up together as husband and wife, does that make me a husband-snatcher? Bear in mind that this is no Jolie-between-Aniston-&-Pitt scenario. This is 30-year-old-between-60-and-55-year-olds scenario.

I never thought being a woman can be this confusing. The bra and panties don’t help. I’m taking them off now.

Comments anyone? And please don’t give me that “No woman would be happy to see her husband taking another wife” notion. I am aware of that and in total agreement.

4 years more to being 40...

...14 years more to reach the big five O, and 24 years to go before I should consider myself dead. I know this sounds morbid, but the average age a man dies is 60 years.

To realise you don't have much time is one thing. To do something about it is another. And I don't mean increasing the lifespan, but how can you make every minute a worthwhile life?

Today I take the opportunity to wish myself and those born on the same date Happy Birthday!

Did you also know that today is International Women's Day?

Coincidence...or Missing Link?

This is about me, my sons Hud and Adam; and one of my favourite artists John Mellencamp (JM).

JM put together his first band at the age of 17, covering songs, one of which was James Brown's "I'm Your Puppet". Coincidentally, one of my previous jobs was actually as a puppeteer. Remember TV shows Along and Jojo & Friends?

At the age of 17, I was heavily involved in automobiles, with Porsche being the second biggest subject matter. That was when I learned that the Porsche Speedster, in which late actor James Dean crashed, was dubbed Little Bastard. Coincidentally, JM, being a fan of James Dean, nicknamed himself Little Bastard as a producer for his albums. The name James Dean also appeared in his song Jack & Diane.

Thanks to my dad (abah) who was a hi-fi freak, I grew up listening to Rickie Lee Jones (RLJ). When I formed a band, I called it Know One Nose, the name of RLJ's music publishing house. We played nothing but JM's songs. Coincidentally, around the same time, JM cut a duet with RLJ.

Before I even got married, I had an inspiration to call my son Hud, should I have a son in the future. When I got engaged, JM cut an album called Mr Happy Go Lucky. It featured his son on the album cover. That was when I learned that his son was also named Hud. Coincidence?

I was having another inspiration that should I get another daughter, I would call her Adila (Arabic, meaning "just" or "fair") when I discovered afterwards that JM's second daughter is also named Justice. Coincidence again?

Before I got into playing music, my interest has always been art and paintings. I wanted to attend art school and learn automotive design. When dad couldn't afford to send me to an art school, I secretly learned to play the guitar, and quietly erased my passion for "painting". Coincidentally, around the same time, JM wrote a song called Play Guitar!

After the albums Lonesome Jubilee and Big Daddy, JM had a nervous breakdown. He stopped playing music for a year and got into paintings! Ironically, I quit painting totally and got into music. Then, apart writing songs, JM began to run an Art Center in Seymour Jackson County, while I ran a music studio in Subang Jaya.

The initial JM also stands for Joni Mitchell, another one of my favorite songwriters and painters. Joni became popular in the ‘70s around the same time as James Taylor, Janis Joplin, Jackson Brown and Cat Stevens. Joni is considered the most artistic because she is a painter, a poet and a songwriter. She has always been an inspiration to people like JM, rock group Counting Crows and me. JM and me derive inspiration from the same source? Coincidence?

When Cat Stevens embraced Islam, he changed his name to Yusuf. Coincidence? When I got my second son, I named him Adam. Coincidentally, Adam Duritz is the singer-songwriter of Counting Crows!

The same year I got Adam, Sheryl Crow recorded "The First Cut is the Deepest", a classic song written by Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam)! What a coincidence!

You are not going to believe this...last weekend I played back some of Joni Mitchell's albums which I haven't played for a long time. I was looking at the sleeve notes when I discovered that her music publisher is Crazy Crow Music BMI!

Coincidentally, Sheryl Crow's music publishing house is Old Crow BMI!

And here are more coincidences -

My son Adam (who shares the same name as the Counting Crows band leader) was born in 2003, the same year Counting Crows recorded a cover version of Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi". Coincidentally, Joni recorded Big Yellow Taxi in 1971, which was the year I was born!

A year after Adam was born, which is also a year after Counting Crows remade Big Yellow Taxi, which is 2004, Sheryl Crow did a remake of The First Cut is the Deepest - a song originally written by Cats Stevens a.k.a Yusuf Islam!

This thing is getting freakier and freakier!

My first two children, Hud and Hannah, were born in Seremban. Adam was the only one who was born in Klang, a town full of crows.

Coincidence?

Or perhaps...a missing link? :)

My Rear End is Nicer by Year End

While I may not exactly be God’s gift to women, cycling will be the beginning of my very own long term personal contribution to society. As I put forth my priority as a caring citizen, and embark on my very own flagship PSR (Personal Social Responsibility), I will focus on 7 core areas (apart from improving the shape of my buttock by end of the year) namely:

Environmental Protection: With bicycle, I manage to preserve the environment by minimising the consumption of resources (petrol especially) and pollution (such as noise and air). The light-weightiness of the bicycle is also non-damaging to the tarmac and natural contours of the earth, which I appreciatively relate to the curves of a woman’s body.

Community Involvement: Cycling to work is sociable because I am part of the environment; rather than seeing the environment through a windscreen. As I pass through neigbourhoods, I am able to flash a smile and even greet people especially the elderly, and even children waiting for the bus. I don’t just look at trees. I smell them. I don’t just watch the sunrise and sunset. I feel them. I become more romantic naturally.

Employer Welfare: Cycling to work is a great way to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I arrive at work alert and feeling energized, ready to make the most of the day. A company would really benefit from one fit (and romantic) employee. The office parking lot will have one extra space. I do not give out greenhouse emissions and therefore I contribute to the success of ISO 14001 certification audits.

Social Service: With cycling, I am the voice of the population who cries in desperation for lower petrol price, car price (but higher quality), toll rates, roadtax, and for better and safer roads and public transportation. I do not annoy my neighbours with the sound of an engine, I minimise traffic congestion, and at the same time, I inspire others to be more creative in economic planning.

Human Rights: With cycling, I am exercising my right to rest and leisure, right to an adequate standard of living, and right to simply exercise! Because without cycling to work, I have no chance of vigorous physical activity since I’ll be stuck in traffic jam for one hour in the morning and another hour after work. Plus 8 hours in the office, that’s 10 hours sitting in air-cond room! Moreover, cycling enables me to dictate my own commute and traffic rules; and therefore helps me exercise my right to freedom!

Family Bonding: Cycling not only makes me a healthy (and romantic, don’t you forget that!) member in the family, it also takes away all work-related stress from every turn of the pedal, so I come home stress-free. As cycling is a cheap way to travel, my family budget improves. And with the petrol money I save, I can take my family on a weekend outing for a sumptuous seafood or something.

Healthcare: Cycling is a simple low-impact way to improve health that doesn’t feel like exercise, as opposed to jogging (which can develop arthritis) or aerobic (which is boring, especially if you are doing it all by yourself in front of instructional video). Cycling has potential to protect one from cancer, heart disease, diabetes, obesity, anxiety, depression and a host of other common health problems. By cycling 25km to work, and another 25km home, I overshoot the 30min-a-day physical exercise recommended by health experts.

For once in our lives, let’s do the ride thing – cycle!

Why should YOU cycle?

Because it is....
Good For You:
Regular cyclists enjoy a fitness level equal to that of a person ten years younger. (Source: National Forum for Coronary Heart Disease Foundation, Sharp)
Cycling at least twenty miles a week reduces the risk of heart disease to less than half that for non-cyclists who take no other exercise (Source: British Heart Foundation, Morris)
If one third of all short car journeys were made by bike, national heart disease rates would fall by between 5 and 10 percent (Bikes not Fumes, CTC, 1992). Info from BikeBiz, with thanks.
During rush-hour, a bicycle is about twice as fast as a car - good if you hate traffic jams!

Good For Your Wallet:
Bicycles require no road tax, no PUSPAKOM tests, no insurance, no licensing, no breakdown recovery services, and above all no fuel bills (unless you count confectionery bars!).
A good bicycle needs at most about RM300-worth of maintenance a year - less if you do a bit yourself. How much does your car need?
A good bicycle will last for years, if not decades. How long did your previous car last?
A bicycle can be parked just about anywhere, so no more expensive car park bills.

Good For Your World:
Twenty bicycles can be parked in the same space taken up by one car.
To make a bicycle requires only a fraction of the materials and energy needed to make a car.
Bicycles produce absolutely no pollution - they are a lot quieter too. When was the last time you saw a rusting, burnt-out bicycle?
Cars kill and maim thousands of people every year - bicycles don’t.

Goodbye stress!

It's been a long day at work. Frustrations, irritations and vexations have been the predominant themes. And now you have to wait for a bus, squash onto a train or sit in a traffic jam. A bad day just got worse. Alternatively, imagine at the end of the same stressful shift, unlocking your bike and riding away. You're in charge of your own commute. The exercise burns off any negative emotions and it counts towards the 30 minutes a day activity target recommended by health experts. You even save money. You're free.

Well, that's exactly what I did on 6 February 2007. I cycled to work!

No one thought it was possible considering the distance and the wild Malaysian weather. But I did it!

What I found amusing about it was that it usually takes me 1 hour to drive to work due to traffic, but it takes me 1 hour 10 minutes to cycle! I might as well cycle!

Goodbye traffic jams & high petrol price!

Somebody reward me!

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

I have finally quit smoking. For good!

Have you checked your glove compartment lately?

I have, and found everything but gloves.

Let me see…a diaper, dried wet-tissue, 2 inkless pens, business card of someone I have forgotten, expired road tax discs of 2002 and 2003, a couple of McD’s ketchup sachets, a useless lighter and a Lenny Kravitz cassette box without the cassette tape.

Evidently, I have never kept a misfolded roadmap or toll tickets in my glove compartment!

So what’s in YOUR glove compartment?

3 Hottest Topics this week

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

One is the World Cup, which is not my cup (pun not intended) of tea. So I won’t talk about it. It hurts my knee just by mentioning football. What more kicking it.

Another is the production of Proton Satria Neo, which I think is a great looking car with a well-thought-out features (yes, it has a glovebox this time) and probably, just probably, a well-thought-out price tag that should (shouldn’t it?) lurch public from dumping their money on new foreign cars. At least that’s the oracle in the automotive matrix. Proton’s new trinity (Gen2/Savvy/Neo) has potential in abundance and it’s only a matter of “reality check” before you realise what a rip-off foreign cars have been. To this day, the Gen2 in white remains my “morpheus” for I can only dream about it due to financial constraints (All puns relating to the Matrix movie intended).

The other hot topic is the Yusry KRU – Erra Fazira split. So hot that even TV3 ran a SMS poll to see how many people thought they were not meant for each other. What the…? First thing came out from every body upon hearing the news was, “What a waste!”. Of course it’s nobody’s business (or money) how much Yusry had spent on his wedding. Telecommunication companies thought otherwise, though. But a waste is a waste nonetheless.

I have never been comfortable with big weddings. Mostly because they always end up with a divorce. It’s sad. Are big weddings really the expression of love? Is togetherness in organizing a wedding a reflection of sharing? I don’t mind attending a big wedding. I do mind having one. Wedding photo albums just make it worse. Photos are like screensavers. They get ditched. Don’t have the slightest idea that they strengthen ties. They are just illusions. Women may have different views about photos, but they are the ones who usually ask for big weddings. And divorce is making official what is in reality a love lost. So some married people are divorced. They just don’t know that they are. How scary.

Moons and Junes and ferris wheels,
the dizzy dancing way that you feel
as every fairy tale comes real;
I've looked at love that way.
But now it's just another show.
And you leave 'em laughing when you go
and if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away.
I've looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take, and still somehow
it's love's illusions that I recall.
I really don't know love at all.
- Joni Mitchell, 1968 –

When it comes to matters of the heart, it’s the heart that matters more.
How many rooms do we have in our hearts?
Can we lock their doors and open only one?
Shutting the heart from fellow creatures would be selfish.
Breaking it would be selfless, and probably the best thing to do.
Works all the time.
May Allah keep us all in His blessings! Ameen!

For your eyes only

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Sorry I haven’t been blogging. I contracted conjunctivitis.

I was on medical leave for the whole of last week. Conjunctivitis is contagious. I got it from my nephew. I passed it on back to her mom, who passed it on to her sister, who passed it on to her husband, who passed it on to his daughter, and God knows to whom it will go from there.

It started on Friday night (2 June) when all my children were recovering from eye infection, courtesy of breast milk (the recovering, NOT the infection). I felt an itch in my left eye, but never suspected anything. So it was business as usual as I scratched to find a loose eyelash, except this time, I could not find any. Nevertheless, scratching was irresistible, and the sensation I felt after getting rid of the itch was orgasmic. What a quickie relief!

First lesson learned – Don’t go for a quickie relief every time you feel an itch!

The real aftermath, of course, was when I woke up on Saturday to find my left eye swollen with vengeful virus. Oh well, if breast milk worked on my children, it should work on me. Or so I thought! I woke up on Sunday with both eyes bloody, and with one bigger than the other. My right eye looked like I just swapped with Garfied’s infamous half-open, and my left eye looked like Kermit the Frog’s. For once, I really believed that I look like Keanu Reeves with a plastic surgery gone horribly wrong!

Second lesson learned – What’s good for children may not necessarily be good for adults, shampoo included!

The doc gave me no oral antibiotics for my infection. Only eyedrops. Which apparently not only drops into my eyes, but internally into my nostril and eventually into my throat. If you think bitter gourd was God of all bitterness, then the eyedrop must be one bitchy bitter goddess.

Hope you guys had a better week!

Remembering my first vehicle - the Dating-mobile

I call it vehicle, as a Perodua Kancil is not what I’d usually call a car. Like you know…when you watch Baywatch and not consider it soft porn.

(Pause)

Well ok, bad metaphor. Anyway, my first ride was a Kancil, and as any man in his right mind will tell you, it’s far from being as charming as the Mini.

My ownership was more a case of “I didn’t have a choice” rather than “It was my choice”. Then again, it could’ve been worse. Yet then again, what could be worse than the snail of automobiles?

If you think speed is not one of Kancil’s virtues, you haven’t confirmed your opinion with a 660cc engine and automatic gearbox yet. The only other car I ever managed to overtake was either a non-moving one, or another 660 Auto Kancil driven by an old lady. To those who think that speed kills, think again. I almost got hit head on by oncoming traffic for failing to get back in line during an overtaking maneuver.

I don’t want to slam the Kancil so much, though. It did serve its purpose. It did transport me from point A to point B. Eventually.

But I’d like to reminisce the rolling good times I had with it.

Interior space was cramped. Surprise, surprise. It was more like having a bucket cockpit rather than a bucket seat. And “cock-pit” had never been so aptly termed. The steering wheel was so big, I could literally steer it with my knees.

And the seat, it was so flat and slippery that, if I took a sharp right hand bend at high speed (relatively speaking), I would end up sitting on the handbrake. And if I took an even sharper right hand bend at even higher speed (speed relative to first example above), I would end up on my passenger’s lap. Which would be OK if it was Carmen Electra. Not so if it was my mom-in-law!

Grip was never in the Kancil’s book of handling, interior or exterior. Never had I taken a corner without the front tyres squealing for mercy. I finally changed the 12” wheels to 13” and put on wider rubber to improve grip. Cornering was then much better, but I wasn’t sure whether the bigger, wider and heavier wheels actually enhanced grip or simply slowed me down to a non-screeching level.

But, it was a joy. A perfect dating mobile. The tailgate opened upwards in a 90 degree position to make a great “moon-roof” tent. This will sound like a cliché, but parking was a breeze, side or reverse.

YOU can’t write about your car with so much passion, can you? Oh well, drive safe guys. Remember, speed doesn’t kill. Lack of it does!

Sometimes I think I look like George Clooney...

...sometimes I don't.

Sad but true.

BMW Blunder

Despite my dire passion for the BMW marque, there are some BMW models, which I loathe and wished they didn’t see the light of day.

They are:

X3

Z3 roadster

3-series compact

1-series

The X5 is a handsome on-&-off-roader. You know that as well as I do. BMW also called it SAV (Sports Activity Vehicle) instead of SUV. And THAT is an innovation in itself, so much so that Porsche bought the idea and created the Cayenne, its own SAV, which is a great performer, butt ugly. However, the X3 is plain ugly and with poor off-road capabilities, it’s utterly pointless. The X5 is THE 4X4 of the century, but the X3 just spoiled the show. Just look at that ugly thing. I’d run away if I were you!

The Z3 looks great in coupe form, but the roadster looks like plastic surgery gone wrong. It looks front-heavy, which is very imbalance for a manufacturer of 50:50 weight distributed cars, and when it first came out, it came in stupid colors – like sea-foam/ pistachio green car James Bond drove.

The Compact spoiled the beautiful lines of the 3-series. It was first introduced via the E36 model, where BMW chopped off its boot. BMW thought people liked it and therefore continued the Compact version with the E46 model. And to make things worse, it copied the tail-light design of the Toyota Altezza. THAT’s very unbecoming of BMW, who claimed to be innovative in design, not copycat. I'm so ashamed of this model, I don't even want to post its photo here.

The 1-series was created to compete in the hatchback car category, which is championed by the legendary VW Golf GTi. BMW even admitted that they took the Golf as a benchmark in designing the 1-series. What the…? All this while BMW cars have been the benchmark by which all other manufacturers measure their cars. Why on earth did BMW let themselves benchmarking upon another manufacturer? BMW should be more innovative than they were before, if not as they were before. I'm sure the 1-series is a blast to drive, but I wouldn't want to be seen driving it. And look at that stupid oversize headlights! Gawd!

My Father-in-Law, the Lord of the Rings!

Last night was a scary night. My father-in-law took out a small dusty ancient chest and revealed some rings, most of which have stones the size of my thumb! He asked me to choose. Naturally, after failing to find one without any stone, I chose the one with the smallest and least glaring gem. Of course, all without a chance to get away from trying all of them. All 27 of them. Thank God the giant-stoned rings couldn’t fit my fretboard-scratching fingers. Or so I thought. He said he’d take some of them to town tomorrow and get them downsized to fit my fingers.

My father-in-law is trying to accessorize me! Help!

Why men shouldn't taste fresh breast milk

There’s no view quite like the cleavage. You could spend a fortune just to be on the Swiss Alps, but you always go back to the cleavage. If you don’t, you are, by any rational definition, not a man. And if you are a woman reading this, I’m sorry, but that’s just the way things are. Women might get offended by what I’m going to write next, so listen to me, take my advice, click here http://pittcenter.com/ and improve your cleavage. Men, read on.

I am by no means a marriage counselor, but sharing with you how I tasted breast milk might show you what marriage is all about from a different perspective. You can only read this here. This kind of thing is never published in women’s magazines (which actually contain more adverts than articles). So read attentively. Intimacy doesn’t necessarily mean sex, and never guarantees the non-existence of flirtatious fling (I call it mid-life crisis, which is forgiven) or extra-marital affairs (which I call stupidity).

Yes, breast milk! You’ve tasted it too when you were small, but obviously don’t remember it. By baby’s standards, I guarantee you this – it’s very delicious! And no, I didn’t find that out through sexual exploration.

Let me explain my golden discovery by telling you about new mothers. By that, I mean mothers with newborns. So even if the newborn is her third child, she is still a “new” mother. Or “renewed” if you want to call her. Every time a mother gives birth, her breasts become an ISO-certified manufacturer of lactose. The production never ceases, and because of that, delivery has to be done even if the demand ceases. Otherwise, the breasts become full-bodied (looking very sexy actually) and painful to the mother.

Some breasts can be pumped using a specifically designed apparatus. Some just need that un-plastic feeling of another human being. So now comes mighty daddy with all the suckling power of a GT-race car’s 500 horsepower air-suction valve (I don’t understand this either, but it feels good when you associate men with cars). What I did was what babies would do, except that I spat it out. What a waste of milk, obviously. But what upsets me most in exercises like these is that what almost burst out of the bra, now fit just nice.

And NO, I did not derive any sexual pleasure out of this. If anything, I felt more like I was doing CPR. As a result, I couldn’t “get it on” for the next 2 weeks. If you’re a man reading this, take my advice, avoid something like this if you want to get your mojo working all year round. And especially if your will is not strong enough to avoid the “stupidity” I mentioned before. And if you are a woman reading this, shame on you! This goes to show that women never listen!

And to think that my writing surpassed Brad Pitt’s website!

My Sister, the Shop-aholic

My sister, the shop-aholic is trying to save money. Isn’t it ironic? My sister lectures at INTI College in Nilai. She lives in Seremban. She spends a premium on petrol and toll fares, and says she has a bright idea on how to overcome the side-effects of the recent petrol price hike. She said she would take a bicycle on the Commuter train and cycle to work, like Londoners do. She would then shower and change at the office. Ahh…yes, bright, but not quite. Here’s how I’d picture things would be:

She needs to invest in a foldable bicycle. Then she needs to carry more than just the 15 kg iron-horse. She needs a bagpack to carry her toiletries and office attire. And knowing her, she may want to invest in a Louis Vuitton bagpack that would cost more than the bicycle itself. Of course, she can’t cycle with heels. So she needs a pair of Ladies’ Adidas, which is probably available only at KLCC. So she spends a day’s work’s fuel to go shopping in KL and found not only the perfect Adidas trainers, but also the sweatshirt and track bottoms to match. While in KL she happens to bump into a stylish looking steam iron.

And she thinks…”if I put my office attire in the bagpack, it will get crumpled, so I need to iron it at the office”. She might as well get the iron. Then, of course, she needs an iron board. The stylish iron doesn’t go with the “batik” ironboard you’d get at your usual Ban Hin Trading. So she decides to drive to IKEA to get the matching ironboard. Some matching wooden hangers. A matching wall clothes rail. And a matching little basket to store away her sweaty Adidas. While she’s there, might as well grab some meatballs, exclusively IKEA. On her way to the cashier, she spots a nice cute potted plant and…what the heck, it’s just 7 bux.

Well you get the idea.

5 more years to being 40, but I still have it! Happy Birthday to me!

Originally posted on Wednesday, March 08, 2006

5 more years to being 40, but I still have it! Happy Birthday to me!

What is worse than being stuck in traffic jam? Let me tell you. It’s being stuck in traffic on a hot day in a car with no air-con. When you think it cannot get any worse, the sun moves to the driver’s side and bitch-slap one side of your sweaty face with its barely bearable heat. And that’s when you have to decide whether to look elsewhere and let the sun hit your medulla oblongata, or look straight, control your composure and risk having your face half-treated with suntan.

Well, it was one of those days for me yesterday afternoon as I was driving back from a meeting. It was one of those times when you got drenched in perspiration so long you just had to secretly (and hope really hard no one saw you) lift one arm just high enough so you could check on your body odour. Your nose filtered no offensive smell. Thank God you thought. How about the other pit? Looking straight, composed, you lifted the other arm and…aw c’mon admit it. You’ve done it before!

Traffic started to crawl again. After confirming that my armpits did not exude anything toxic, I rubbed my face against my sleeve as if I was trying to wipe off facial sweat (yeah like you don’t know the trick) and drove. Slowly. And there she was. Simply beautiful. Face not marred by the slightest trace of skin-intruders. Hair unsplit and unspoilt by the cruel weather.

There she stood. By the roadside. Waiting to cross the street. Hands holding fries. By the reckoning of my own age, I’d say she was underage.Her eyes caught hold of mine. Between her and me and my non-toxic armpits, I’d say there was some chemical reaction going on.

I drove past. But glanced at my rear view mirror. To my disbelief, but I anticipated it, she was staring right back at me. Eyes contacted again. I smiled. I had no idea what made me do it, but I smiled. I wasn’t sure whether my smile was obligatory as I was beginning to feel awkward, or it was just a natural and manly thing to do. It was weird for me, given that she was probably sub-20 years old staring at a man twice her age, to actually experience a… smile return! Yep, she smiled back at me. I might’ve made you sick when I said that, but she smiled back. She did.

I am 35 today. Married. With 3 kids. And one more on the way. And still able to attract a smile from a strange beautiful girl barely 20 years old. Damn, I still have it. The charm. LOL!!!!!! JCan’t believe I’m 35. Career-wise, I don’t see myself progressing, but I guess that’s what keeps me sane. THAT and wanting a chopper.Did I write too much today? I don’t talk much. Only write a lot. Sorry for a quiet birthday lunch. But today reminds me that at least I still have a group of friends to write to, albeit a small group. Thanks again for the birthday wishes. Wish Afiza and Steven were here!