L.a.M.E.

Efteling Theme Park

2011-11-07T21:43:00.003Z

The thing about theme parks is, I love them. A whole darn lot. I suppose them rides make me feel alive, because when you fear you might fall from the rusty rails of a roller coaster, you feel alive. In the split second of fearing you might die when it does the three-sixty loop, you smile because the exhilaration reminds you that your heart is still beating. Then, the ride is over and you want to do it once more but the queue to feel alive again is too long. On to the fairytale section to take yourself down memory lane and expose the inner child in you. Can't complain.

All in all, a superbly amazing weekend with the best company I could ask for, and great park food besides hot dogs – Mexican wrap.

By the way, a quick shout-out: Selamat Hari Raya Aidiladha to all my Muslim friends.

Happy Birthday

2011-09-28T22:14:00.000+01:00

It is my sister's birthday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LAZY BUM!

Alles Goed

2011-09-28T21:51:00.000+01:00

After months of being on indefinite hiatus and suffering from severe writer’s block, I have finally decided to reopen my blog to public. Yes, it is scary, especially when you have no idea who would end up reading the posts. Why do I do it? So I can finally ask my mom to just read my blog instead of calling me 8 times a day just to ask what I am doing. And, it’s about time I update the few friends I have in Malaysia.

Here’s an update. I am in Den Haag, trying to help make the world a better place – for free – at the immediate office of the prosecutor at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY). I am indeed still bumped the tribunal does not have an uber cool name like the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia. Like, seriously, EXTRAORDINARY. I travel to Amsterdam often and no, I have not tried smoking weed, nor have I tried space cakes.

Life in Amsterdam and Den Haag is extremely different from life in London. I barely speak Dutch but I am in the process of perfecting ‘thank you’. That is amazing progress. People here are generally friendly and approachable. Generally.

That is all for now. Tra-la-laaaaaaaaa.

You

2011-02-24T05:39:00.000Z

You believe, at times, you cannot help but feel sorry for yourself. You stare at the glass, having the choice to look at it both ways but it always turns out to be so empty you can never see it to be filled, even remotely. You wake up and think the day is going to be over in twelve hours and you feel it is pointless to waste the remaining hours doing things you barely want to, but you do it anyway. You try your best to grasp that slightest thread of hope but it seems to slip right through no matter how hard you try to hold on to it. Yet, the reluctance to let go is so strong you had to go on, thinking things could only get better at some point. You go on, thinking you might someday wake up and carve a smile on the face of the man in the mirror. You fight to save that piece of hope from falling into complete sombreness. Sometimes, when it hurts, you console yourself. You wish someone would finally pull you from the black hole, but you drown yourself in self-pity. You refuse to pick yourself up because you know you have the right to be saved. You wait, yet hope for rescue seems so dim you couldn’t help but question the purpose of your being.

You believe, at times, you smile to protect the pain you yearn to hide so badly it just seems like an open wound every time you try to conceal how much harm you could cause yourself. You wish your pain goes away, but you also wish it doesn’t heal unnoticed. You want them to see you in pain, and you secretly want them to sympathise with your unfortunate circumstances. You beat yourself up when you think of telling someone else about the ache you’ve been burdened with, yet you worry they might not care enough to carry some of the weight, because after all, it is your load to bear. You end the day thinking you’d want to end the next day now, so you could skip just a day of worry and agony, but you know it will all come back again. You desperately try to sleep because merely shutting your eyes would not rest yourself from the chaos. You pray to an unknown force, because you feel you need help but you have nowhere to go but the unverified divine existence. You wake up but fail to measure a smile for that man in the mirror, the man who so clearly wants to love you back.

You believe, at times, the gloomy and dark figure that stems from your feet at night seems to be the only one who listens to your sigh. You try to find a source of light to bring that friend out from darkness but your thoughts are so clouded with fear and desperation you forget that the dark figure is the reflection of someone you’ve known all along, but failed to trust. He is the man in the mirror who begs you to give him a hug before you go to bed. He is the man whose hollow face awaits the touch of the paintbrush in your palm.

Happy New Year

2010-12-31T14:10:00.002Z

On this last day of the year, lets not fret over what we could have had. be grateful for what and who we have, be thankful for the people who come into our lives in so many wonderful ways, and when the first day of the New Year dawns, lets strive to achieve the goals of our lives.

Happy New Year, my dear family and friends.

Happy Wedding Anniversary!

2010-12-27T15:12:00.001Z

I am the product of two very supportive parents who have never doubted my existence and purpose in life.

To my dearest Mummy and Daddy,

Happy 30th Wedding Anniversary!!!

OCD

2010-12-19T05:04:00.003Z

I think I may have OCD. I really do. ~~I do I do I do I do I do.~~ I will spare you the details and evidence but I am fairly sure – after a pretty accurate self-diagnosis based on Wikipedia – that I suffer from such disorder, albeit mild. Even as I write this post, there are certain things I tend to avoid, and it sometimes thwarts me from expressing my exact thoughts. Worry not, it is nothing serious, but who knows what it could become in the future. I used to be particularly anal about my sleeping posture not for a healthy back, but for the safety of the people I love. Yeah, I used to think their lives were at risk if I didn’t sleep ‘properly’. Thankfully, I got over such thoughts as I grew older. Unfortunately, new fears gradually outgrew logic and drowned my mental capacity to neglect such mild paranoia. This bothers me deeply but I cannot help but tend to it as I care too much about the people I love. It seems ridiculous, and I know this compulsive behaviour would not be the root of any bad luck, but it does not stop me from doing the things I do, since saying ‘I LOVE MY FAMILY’ six times in my head before I go to bed does no harm, and skipping page four of all Youtube comments does not make me a freak. It makes me extraordinarily special and special is what I was born and expected to be.

Whore

2010-12-10T02:09:00.003Z

When did I become a CV whore? I cannot recall the event that made me crave a magnificent CV that could wow every single potential employer. Perhaps it was a gradual effect that started since I landed in London and met a bunch of super smart people from around the globe. The competitiveness eventually kicked in and everyone was telling everyone about their working experience. I worked as well. For three months. It might be called an attachment course, but hey, if you were enslaved, you worked.

So yeah, I need to have more working experience, but everyone has to start somewhere, no? I volunteered to teach a bunch of kids what human rights were, and they came up with a rap song thing to express their feelings. That’s an achievement. I am attached as an unpaid intern to an organisation that seeks to aid activists who fight for Muslim women's rights. That’s commitment.

So why am I still unemployed? I did damn well in my exams. DAMN well. So well I was surprised I was able to achieve such greatness. I did my parents proud, and I was more confident I could find a job soon enough. Wrong. Still jobless and blogging about unemployment.

I shall wait for the day I receive that phone call that requires me to meet up with some big shot of a company or firm. I shall wait for them to tell me “You’re hired”. And they shall consider themselves warned because I am so gonna give them a huge ass hug. I shall wait.

Christmas is coming. And it is COLD here in London. Can’t complain. It’s better than the weather back in Malaysia. Can’t wait to dig in that lifeless-but-yummy turkey. I shall eat with passion. Not that I’ve ever eaten dispassionately. Food is good. Treat it well.

hunger

2010-11-21T18:28:00.000Z

i want hotpot with grill :-(

Vengeance

2010-06-21T04:33:00.002+01:00

He withdrew a paper clip from his right pocket with two fingers and held it inches from her eye, as though trying to make sure she knew what it was. She winced as she tried to push herself away from the deplorable sight, but such attempt was fruitless as she was seated, hands bound and pressed against her back, right above the cleavage of her supple buttocks. Her glittered stick-on eyelashes were soaked with tears that smudged her mascara. His face lacked expression, yet his mind was filled with excruciatingly brutal imagination and hidden rage.

She tried to mutter and beg as he straightened the paper clip and carved a subtle – yet definitely sinful – crooked grin. She shook her head vigorously, obviously discouraging him to perform the execution of his task that would have consequentially provided some sick satisfaction and twisted pleasure. Kneeling between her thighs, he held the end of the straightened clip and pointed it upward as he slowly, but ever so gruesomely, placed it below her left nostril. With a sudden thrust, her heavy breathing was thwarted by the shot of pain rushing to her head as the slim yet firm object stabbed her nasal bone. She tried to scream the sting away, only to choke on her own saliva as fluid red, warm blood swam across her upper lip, sipped into the fabric of her own panties that gagged and prevented her from calling for help, help she desperately needed before it was too late. He gave another forceful upward shove, ensuring the clip would not drop from her soaked nostril, as though his entire plan would have been a failure if it really did fall off. He was a perfectionist, and this was clearly to her disadvantage. He thought of himself as an artist, expressing his thoughts just to avoid drowning in his own bottled up emotions. Today, however, his muse happened to be his work, his masterpiece, his own wife who cheated on him.

He watched her eyes as they gleamed with welled-up tears. With a pair of scissors he grabbed from the table in their dimly-lit bedroom, he razed her dress, revealing her breasts cupped perfectly in a pair of pink bras she bought to impress her secret lover. He stood up as sweat dripped from his chin onto her lap. With three simple snips, she was left naked, though clothed with pain, fear and a dash of curiosity as to what he would do next. Wait here, he said, before he planted a gentle yet creepy kiss on her neck, now soaked with sweat. I’ll be back.

He went downstairs and gathered a few materials for his work of art. Aluminium foil. A bowl of ice. Two candles and a twin-armed candlestick. Two packets of condoms. Cellophane tape. A box of matches. She heard his footsteps drawing themselves closer to her as he headed back to their bedroom to complete his work in progress. With all the materials he gathered placed in a plastic bag, he landed it on the bed and sat by the edge, facing his wife of ten years. He rested his right palm on his lap while his left dove into the bag.

The whiff of lavender from the candles sliced the still air in the room as he slid three cubes of ice in the condoms and tied them up before placing them on two pieces of unrolled foils. He rooted his knees on the ground and wrapped her breasts with the foils before taping them firmly. She shivered as the cold shot through her nipples and struggled to inhale with fear at the thought of what he would do next, though clueless. He reached for the candlestick and planted it on the chair, between her thighs. With a firm spiral thrust, he fixed the candles on the arms, both now stood an inch below her breasts, oozing scented heat that will soon boil the melted ice wrapped in the foils.

They waited.

She winced and tried to wriggle her breasts to loosen the grip of the tape that bound the foils tightly to the part of body she took most pride in. He stared at her remorseful eyes and left the room as she trembled and felt dinner rising to her throat before throwing up all over the floor with the pair of panties now soaked in beef stew, saliva and blood. He turned around and sighed a puff of disgust, as though sick of the gory sight of vomit. Tiptoed, he fished the panties up with a pen and stuffed them back where they belonged before leaving the room to harvest more ingredients for his recipe of vengeance.

He went to the storeroom. A fish hook and string. To the fridge. A plastic bottle of Pepsi, chilled to perfection, unopened.

She was still struggling, either to release the foils or to put out the candles when she heard his leather shoes thumping toward the room, now reeking of puke on the carpeted floor, with a tinge of burnt rubber. She moaned, not with pleasure, but with a defeated pitch in her plea to have her life spared, despite the pair of scalded, albeit succulent breasts she now carried. With the door left wide open, he entered, pressed his crotch against her back and gazed downward as he held her chin from behind and tilted her head, fixing her sight on his hazel eyes. He carefully reached into his pocket and held on to the shank of the hook with the string now firmly tied to the loop of its eye. With an elbow rested on her shoulder, he leaned her cheek on his biceps and wrapped his arm around her face, palm pressed firmly against her ear on the other cheek, as though ready to twist her head and break her neck. His fingers then strayed to her left eye before he pulled the lid and – with a sudden appearance of his left arm from behind, – pierced it with the hook. She trembled and tried to shake the sting away, only to feel more pain as her roasted breasts jiggled. Hush, he whispered.

She managed to keep still as he let her free of his grip. He held on to the string gently and let it slide between his fingers as he paced backward before tying the other end to the doorknob. Her eye was wide open, forced to see what he was about to do. He picked the bottle of Pepsi up and shook it vigorously above her head like a Formula 1 winner with a Moet. She stared at him helplessly, though a little relieved as she thought he was done with his work. He pointed the bottle downward before he opened the cap and thrust the fizzy liquid into her bloody hooked eye. As the cola drowned her sight with constant flow of sweet, excruciating throbs, she yelped and plunged forward, only to add the displeasure in him as the hook stretched her lid and tore it apart. Disgruntled, he picked the hook up and punctured her right eyelid. Stay still.

He blew her a kiss before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

Downstairs, at one a.m., her phone was vibrating as he donned a suit with a briefcase. He picked it up and sent the caller a text.

See you @ the motel.

Room 251.

Promise to take your breath away.

XOXO

Musicals and Plays

2010-06-19T02:48:00.001+01:00

I think I’m overdosed on musicals and plays. I’ve watched too many I cannot sleep at night, because I ended up thinking how they could better the shows, or how some were just plain crap they should’ve made laws to prohibit these shows from landing a spot anywhere in the world. Mamma Mia was crap. The songs were awesome, obviously, but the rest was mediocre. And to think that I had to queue up for almost an hour just to get in the theatre, even with a bloody ticket, made me even more furious. Phuck.

Les Miserables was devastatingly saddening, yet beautiful. THE BEST!

Quick update:

Exams: Done.

Dissertation: Procrastination is awesome when you have time.

Job: Looking for one.

Ideal job: Advertising (I’m creative!)

Current best friends: Gin and Tonic.

Weight: Still trying to lose some, despite the fact that I think I did lose some already.

One by one, friends are leaving London for good. I hope I don’t have to do the same!

Manual Watermark. Gosh I'm weird.

2010-06-18T01:08:00.000+01:00

Post-it

2010-04-04T03:14:00.003+01:00

He pinched my left cheek.

‘Spit it out!’

I pulled back as I winced.

‘Come get it then!’ I uttered, with the piece of note still in my mouth.

I ran.

He obviously would not give up trying to get that piece of note back.

Why did I put it in my mouth again?

See, I took it from his wallet. It was a cute little piece of yellow Post-it.

I was curious.

The paper looked old and wrinkled.

Looked important and precious! I took it.

‘What’s this?’

‘NOTHING!’

In my mouth it went, and I ran.

I tripped and fell. Fuck. Bloody branch!

Now his fingers are penetrating my pursed lips.

‘Get off me!’

God knows what he held last before his fingers started to graze my tongue!

Eww! – I thought. I persistently kept my lips tightly zipped.

I really wanted to find out what that note was all about!

Now I’m pinned to the ground.

Argh, my crotch! – I thought, as he sat forcefully on my buttocks.

He got it.

Damn, he got the Post-it!

‘What is it anyway!’ I said, as I swept the grass off my favourite shirt.

He is crying now.

Crap. Why is he crying?

‘You really wanna know?’

Uhh, yeah, duh. – I thought.

‘Obviously!’ I said.

He chucked the paper in my palm and walked away.

‘I can’t read it.’ It was too wet. My saliva, damn.

He turned around. Stared at me.

‘What?’

‘You wanna know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I love you.’

I blinked.

Rolled my eyes to the right.

I blinked.

Rolled my eyes to the left.

Fuck, he just sat on my butt.

Fries

2010-03-20T03:33:00.000Z

So, some stranger offered me fries on the street in Camden, London. Gosh, Camden is crazy – well, it lives up to its reputation.

Stranger: (Chucking a handful of fries in his mouth) Want some fries, mate?

Me: No, thanks.

Stranger: Really? You’re gonna be reaaaaaaaly hungry, you know, mate?

Me: Nah, I’ll be fine.

He didn’t look drunk. He wore nice clothes – well, presentable clothes that didn’t give the impression that he was homeless.

London is awesome :-)

CNY

2010-02-03T04:07:00.001Z

Spending my first Chinese New Year without my family and close friends from Malaysia would most definitely sadden me to levels I do not want to imagine. It pains me to know that I have not celebrated the last CNY to the fullest.

I wanted to wear new clothes on every single day of the celebration.

I wanted to bake more cookies and prove to my friends I’m awesome in the kitchen.

I wanted to visit the friends I miss so much.

I wanted to spend more time with my beloved family, the one I wouldn’t mind having arguments with, knowing the fact that we will always be together at the end of the day.

Distance not only makes the heart grow fonder, but it fucking makes the mind ponder and wonder about the things you have in life, and that makes the heart grow immensely fucking fonder, so much it hurts! Distance sucks big time.

It’s so heartbreakingly sad when you don’t know something wonderful you are about to do would be the last time you would be doing it, until who knows when. Well, I’m sure I would spend some future CNYs with proper family reunion and gatherings with friends, but you get the idea – I’m just being an emotional wreck, moaning about my unfortunate geographical location during CNY. Not that I don’t love London, because I do, but what is CNY in London compared to CNY with family and friends who gamble!

And O.M.G. The food. O.M.G. O.M.G. O.M.G. I want. I need!

Fine.

Gong Xi Fa Cai.

Whatever.

Hope for Haiti

2010-01-24T16:33:00.001Z

Think of the shoes you have.

The water you drink.

The clothes you own.

The blankets that keep you warm.

The dinner you swallow.

The parents who love you.

Think of not having anything you already have.

Please do donate to the Haitians who have nothing but hope in the hours of darkness.

Koo

2010-01-19T11:20:00.000Z

On a morning like this,

when you feel you need more sleep,

you can't help but to feel the urge to kick a pigeon

on the way to class.

London is not Lontong

2010-01-07T17:22:00.000Z

Classes are starting soon. *Insert freaking sad face*

Chinese New Year is coming and I’m not in Malaysia. The foooooood!

Somehow all the nice clothes I see during the sales are the ones that will suit my mom and sister. Ugh.

But, wait.

I’m in London! Rawrrr!!!

Still, what good is being in London when Malaysian food is, to me, the best in the world?

Sigh.

Happy New Year

2010-01-01T05:40:00.002Z

Right. It’s the new year and here I am in London, trying to digest all the place has to offer but somehow I still miss the food in Malaysia. Sales are still going on and I most definitely need to stop shopping for my mom and sister or people are gonna think I’m into cross-dressing. Thanks to Miss Rileen a.k.a. Miss Papayabanana, now I’d have to shop for heels. Awesome.

Anyway, off to bed now. Tra-la-laaaaaaaaa!

Oh, Happy New Year, babeh!

Cow and Bacon

2009-12-04T04:44:00.001Z

I’m still alive!

Yes, I’ve been to most landmarks in London, and no, I will not spend time blogging about how wondrous or overrated they are. You have Wikipedia and Google for that. Hence, I have nothing much to write about these days, as I am constantly slapped with light papers weighted with extensive reading lists that could make a cow puke bacon. Yes, it is that crazy. Thankfully, I am still sane enough to know that my social life should not be neglected just because I have to strive extremely hard to look at least a little smarter in class.

Enough of sad and emotional rant. I made new friends! And I’m proud to say they’re all great in their own ways, just like the friends back in Malaysia that I miss oh-so-much. It’s nice to see intelligent people in class who are so nice to others without the slightest annoying attitude of superiority, unlike the situation in my class in Malaysia. Good to have something for a change!

My mom hasn’t called me for quite some time now. I miss bitching and gossiping with her about every single thing and person we can think of. I’m pretty sure we’ll talk for hours if she called one of these days.

And no, I have no idea if I have lost or gained weight. Somehow I dare not set foot on the weighing machine as it might tear my heart apart, which would mean that my friends have won. Bloody hooligans who can’t wait for me to get fat so they can laugh at my flabby tummy and triple chins. Hence, I started jogging again. I managed to get a really awesome and professional looking pair of shoes and decided to show them off right after I got them.

Warmed up.

Went out.

Started jogging.

Started to drizzle.

Came back home after 6.8 minutes because I didn’t want to wet my shoes on their first day out.

Awesome start, don’t you think?

Of Red Buses

2009-10-04T02:26:00.001+01:00

Right. So, this is the anticipated post, I suppose, for it is the first one since I legally invade London. Perhaps it was the exhaustingly hectic week I had that made me completely neglect posting anything on my blog, despite a few pictures on my Flickr of places I have been to. Even so, I was too lazy – besides the fact that I hate being tagged as a tourist who has never seen a city like London – to snap pictures of all the places that I visited. Instead of printing pictures I took for my travel journal, I decided to buy cheap postcards of the places I have been to and stick them on the journal.

Despite the attempt to be frugal, I had to spend on bagels because they are just too awesome. Nonetheless, doubt not that I will shed off some bad pounds besides gaining a balanced and healthy blood pressure because without a car, even an obese grumpy middle-aged man can get skinny, what more if I walk to every single place in London. I’ve walked to greet Mr. Big Ben, I dragged my feet to lay eyes on the Eye, I painfully strode all the way to nowhere, only to realise I was lost even with all sorts of maps in my bag. Sympathize not, though. I have had the privilege to taste Thai food from restaurants that are voted best in UK, and the food was scrumptiously flawless, to me.

The weather is awesome, period. Being an abnormal person who sweats more than a pig, I absolutely love the weather here. It simply makes me feel normal, and I don’t sweat as much anymore! Ah, the wonder of weather! Last night, I challenged the weather in a pair of knee-length pants, only to realize I will never beat the rain. It drizzled without warning and I had to hoodie-up myself like an Eminem wannabe.

That’s all for now. Tra-la-laaaaaaaaaaa!

What If

2009-08-04T06:51:00.003+01:00

I woke up and wished today were three years ago when life was much simpler with the occasional bumps on the road that were easily shrugged off. Nothing complicated. Well, I am, by no means, complaining that my current lifestyle is a torture filled with spiky paths, but don’t you, for once, if not at times, think and hope that life were more straightforward like it used to be? Decisions came naturally with the idea that for some reason, whatever we chose would be fine and correct. We barely thought about the draconian ‘What Ifs’ and life miraculously, somehow, turned out sunny anyway, didn’t it? No matter how light and easy your life may be now, it used to be more uncomplicated than the present. Blame it on responsibilities and the aging society who choked us with the threat that we must do better than the past in order to survive. We are all fed with the thought that we must strive our asses off to be able to be deemed fit in the job market. We are expected to expect bumps on the road every day.

My orgasmic wishful thinking was cut short by a strange phone call from a boy who claimed I was his father. Crying like a perfectly normal sissified little girl, he begged for help and all I could utter was, “Who are you?” and it was too early to be hit by such news, I tell you. Girls, if you want to shock the father of your child, at least wait till it’s after office hours! The call went on for about one minute but it certainly felt like the world fell right on my ass, crushing my inside into pulp.

“Huh? Who is this?”

“I’m your child. It’s me. Help me!”

As much as I loved to hang up on such a ludicrous claim, I could not ignore the innocent cry of a future transvestite. What if he was locked up somewhere, kidnapped? What if he was a victim of sodomy and tortured by his evil stepfather? What if I was drunk one day in the past and he was, indeed, the product of such mortifying crime of ethics? Well then again, I returned to reality and reminded myself I have never been drunk, not even close to being in a tipsy state of mind. So, who was that poor child who needed help but nervously keyed in the wrong number on the public phone with his last sepuluh sen coin? As time ran out and attempts to retrieve his problems and whereabouts failed, I stood by the phone and thought to myself, “What if that was a wake-up call meant for me to take on responsibilities and understand that life would somehow come around the corner and hit you right on your face? What if it was a call to prepare me for my future, three years from now?”

Perhaps it was. A wake-up call, that is. A call for me to realise that there was no point worrying about the future if nothing was done now, nor was it useful to dream of the past when we cannot bend time. All we could do now is to dig a hole and plant a seed and do our best to grow it into a fruitful tree. That, we can control.

Lend a Hand

2009-07-20T12:09:00.002+01:00

What matters is the hand that helps, not the lips that pray.

Goal

2009-07-18T12:43:00.001+01:00

Life isn't football

and it definitely isn't about

another person's match.

Play your game, your way.

The Moo is Mine

2009-06-29T22:58:00.000+01:00

My mom shoves – though not literally – so many kinds of fruits down my throat daily for the past week I now pee tropical fruit punch. Ever since she found out about my awfully high blood pressure, she has been forcing me to take all sorts of exotic and creepy organic foodstuff. Now, apart from peeing 100% natural fruit juice, I have turned from lover of meat to a suicidal rabbit who craves nothing but red meat.

Bring me the cow!!!

Curry Chicken in Bun

2009-06-14T21:32:00.005+01:00

This is a bun. Not just any bun. It's a bun with curry chicken wrapped in plastic and aluminium foil inside. It is a bun from Restoran Siong Hai Kee. I think that's the correct spelling.

The bun.

The bun, compared to a McD's cup.

The bun, measured.

The bun, sliced open.

Aluminium foil in sight.

Tah Daaaaaah.

And I repeat, Tah Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...

Meet Miss Pretty

2009-06-13T19:46:00.003+01:00

Remember this?

Introducing the latest work of art by the one and only me.

Step 1: Grab your sister's Teddy.
Step 2: Ask for her makeup material.
Step 3: Be creative.
Step 4: Surprise your sister.
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Ladies and gentlemen, meet Karmelolita De Sanchez.

Happy Birthday

2009-06-11T08:35:00.001+01:00

To the woman in my life whom I never fail to love more than anyone,

the one whose imperfections perfect my life in every way,

whose faultless intention often misunderstood,

the glorious heroine of my life,

Happy Birthday, Mom.

The Unfortunate Event of Another Failed Birthday Surprise

2009-06-08T14:30:00.002+01:00

Standing beside Miss Papayabanana as she found out about her failed attempt to surprise me on my birthday – again – was not a good experience, at all. It was an awesome plan, I’d say. I was supposed to stop by her place in Malacca to get something from her before she rushed to K.L. to the mall I planned to meet DC at just to pop out from nowhere and watch me puzzled with surprise and shock. But it failed, thanks to DC’s inability to keep a secret and the lack of determination to surprise me, probably due to the fact that he hadn’t gotten any surprise from us on his birthday, hence the probable hasrat dengki.

Knowing I was about to be surprised, I planned to surprise Miss Papayabanana instead. We hid behind the emergency exit at the mall and waited for about fifteen minutes before spotting the girl who tried her best to look normal in heels and lipstick and mascara for my birthday surprise. We sneaked up on her and stood behind her as she whispered to the waitress at Italiannies, “Do you have a lighter? I want to light up –” Then, we tapped on her shoulders as I paced myself beside her and smiled. SURPRISE RIGHT BACK AT YOU!!!

And she hit me like there was no tomorrow while the family of ten at the adjacent table stared with amusement. Thanks to DC’s plan to sneak up on her at the restaurant, she failed to surprise me with the cupcakes from Delectable as well, since we overheard her conversation with the waitress despite her attempt to whisper to the waitress as though she knew we were near. Yeah, we were. Very.

That was another unsuccessful attempt to surprise me but it never failed to make me feel thankful to have people who cared enough to make me smile on my birthday despite my bitchiness throughout the year.

*Delectable Website: http://www.delectable.com.my/

Growth

2009-06-05T19:52:00.000+01:00

I have aged but I am young!

Happy Birthday

2009-06-03T18:58:00.004+01:00

To that one person I want to spend my entire life with, and I know I would,

the one I constantly fight with yet fail to love less,

the one I sleep with and kiss goodnight before I close my eyes,

the reason I wake up every morning,

the love of my life,

Happy Birthday, my dear.

The Emancipation of Constant Constipation

2009-05-28T10:30:00.003+01:00

Liberation is bliss!

Hold On

2009-05-27T15:35:00.000+01:00

If patience is a virtue, then I don't want any cos' waiting for you aches my heart.

Flashback

2009-05-25T18:51:00.005+01:00

Time heals hearts...

...but memory leaves scars.

Chant!

2009-05-21T21:13:00.002+01:00

Be not the man you hate!
Be not the man you hate!
Be not the man you hate!