G for glory

Things were looking great. You had a good date, a good romantic dinner, and as you drive your date home, you asked her if she would like to stop by your place for a cup of coffee, or tea, depending on her preference.

She said yes.

Thank God you had the place cleaned up this morning (mental note: thank mum later for dropping by and tidying up your mess). Mum even probably changed the bedsheet. Nothing beats a newly-washed fresh bedsheet.

Let's skip the coffee (or tea) and the small talk.

She's in your bedroom now, admiring your stuffed toys collection (okay, maybe that's a bit too much, but hey, it's a good way to get a girl into your bedroom. Read: "Want to check out my Pokemons and Barneys?").

You excused yourself to the bathroom, hastily and quietly flossed, brushed your teeth and rinsed your mouth with Oral B mouth-rinse. All in 3 minutes. You got out and see your date getting comfortable on your bed among the purple Barney and the big fuzzy teddy bear. This is it, you thought. It's showtime.

So you joined her in bed, talked a bit, get her into the mood, then kissed her. She responded, and you got into business. After what seemed like an eternity of exchanging saliva and tongue wrestling, your hands slowly and carefully crept in between her legs. You rubbed her panties gently, feeling the tinge of roughness (mental note: she shaved a few days ago) and letting your fingers wander at ease.

Let's skip the foreplay (What! No details! What a rip-off!) and fast-forward to 20 minutes later.

She's naked now. You're naked too. You're on top of her. It feels right. She's wet enough, you're as horny as ever. Her slow moaning is driving you crazy (mental note: this is my lucky night!).

You start off slowly, then it gets faster. She's moaning louder now, and she's telling you to go faster. You push as hard as you can, and you can feel it being over soon, so you slowed down a bit, bidding your time. But she tells you don't stop, go faster, so you blank your mind with more mental notes (mental note: keep her panties as souvenir).

Then it was over. It was good; no, it was great for you, that's for sure. Your best sex ever (mental note: it's only my third score). As you lie on your back watching the ceiling, and counting your blessings, she climbed on top of you, ready for the next round.

The next round? But you just shot off everything you got. There's nothing left, only a limp purple Barney on the floor. And she's hungry for more. Claimed that you didn't hit her G-spot. Said she hasn't had orgasm yet.

But you're not in the mood anymore. Your Barney is not responding; it has packed it's balls and left for the night. You're practically ball-less for the night.

Obviously, she was disappointed. You wished you has last longer like that man you saw on TV the other night. You wished you had bought a yellow Barney instead of the purple one. You wished that women can reach orgasm as fast as men can.

Well, if your have £800, you can get your girl to do a G-shot, then maybe, sex won't be one-sided anymore.

Any takers?

Up, up and away

It was such a depressing day.

It started with the heavy downpour late in the evening. The skies were so dark that it might as well be midnight. It was like the rain came down with a vengeance, pelting everything in its path with such malice that the only reasonable thing to do is to stay indoors.

Then, the news came. Oil price will be up by 40% come midnight, and suddenly, there was pandemonium everywhere. People seemed to be rushing out to fill up their vehicles, paying the last RM1.92 per litre one more time before it is no more.

For come midnight, the new price will be RM2.70 per litre. Which is still, as the Prime Minister repeated for the hundredth times, the cheapest in the region. It must be a decision that he dreaded making, because as of now, he must be the most hated man in the country. Not that it was entirely his fault, but then again, there are bulls-eye marks all over his body. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the membership of his hate-group balloons overnight due to the announcement.

Cheapest in the region. Yes, our fuel price might be of that, but that is not a good reason to justify the big hike. Over and over again, everytime when there was a hike, the same reasons have been used. We are lucky to have a government kind enough to be subsidising some part of the fuel, hence the cheapest in the region tag.

But what’s in everybody’s mind is this, how long can this go on? With the price of crude oil in the international market rising each day, it is inevitable that fuel price everywhere starts to increase. There is nothing much that we can do, as we let the fate of the matters in the hands of speculators and oil barons.

Can we find an alternative to fuel? In this country, driving is a necessity because we don’t have a comprehensive public transportation system. Taking the buses might be a cheaper alternative, but it’s so time consuming that you ended up weighing which is better, to waste your time or your money. The LRTs and trains are better, but at times they are so packed that it's such a hassle just to get into one.

But what we fear most is the chain reaction of the price hike. With fuel playing a big part in almost everything, prices of goods and services will surely go up. The government can assure the people about controlling this and that, and giving the best to the people, but how many times have we seen this method failed miserably. It's the same with the empty promises made during the election, they were just empty.

On another note, it was ironic how cars were queuing up at petrol pumps for hours just to fuel up. Don't you think that letting the car idle for such a long time doesn't burn fuel? There were even fights when some cars were spotted cutting queue. But the worst of the lot is the petrol pumps which put up sign "out of petrol" just so that they can make a bigger profit the next day.

It's still too early to see the impact on the fuel hike. The shock might stay for a week, or even a month. But life has to go on, and adjustments must be make. Maybe public transport doesn't seem that bad after a while.

Or maybe an investment on a bicycle might be good in the long run.

Anger management

I'm an angry man. I have never dealt with anger properly before. Most of the time, it will just get suppressed deep down my bowels, with the hope that it will exited my system with the rest of my waste products every morning when I go to the toilet.

I just did (went to the toilet), yet the anger still remains. So I guess that did not work anymore.

Come to think of it, it never worked before.

So I did what I normally do when I'm angry. I watch porn. Lots of porns. At least, instead of boiling mad with anger, I'll be boiling mad with desires. And it helped, in a way.

Albeit only temporary.

So I blasted my stereo and listened to songs from TV/Movie themes. Knight Rider, Airwolf, Superman, Charmed, Indiana Jones, Mission Impossible and many more. That helped a bit, keeping my mind occupied for a while. And the mad dancing, in front of the mirror. Naked.

But then I remembered, that was what started it all. No, not the dancing or being naked. The TV. The cold and curt reply. The hurt and anger.

This is not helping at all.

Four hours to my yoga class. If that doesn't work, I don't know what will.

I'm pathetic

I'm pathetic, because I bought the perfume that she uses, and when I miss her terribly, I'll smell the perfume and think of her.

I'm pathetic, because I'll type a text message for her, but never sends it out to her.

I'm pathetic, because every night before I go to sleep, I'll think of her and let myself cry sometimes.

I'm pathetic, because I'll dial her number on my phone, but I never press the dial button.

I'm pathetic, because I'll drive to her place sometimes, so that I could catch a glimpse of her car.

I'm pathetic, because everytime when I see her (which is very seldom), I can feel my heartbeat racing to get to her before I do.

I'm pathetic, because everytime I kiss, I feel her lips.

I'm pathetic, because everytime when I'm with another woman, I close myself up because I'm afraid I might cheat on her.

I'm pathetic, because I'm still in love with her.

I'm pathetic, because I watched Lord of The Rings: The Return of The King last night, and I cried at the ending.

Okay, that is irrelevant, but don't mind me. I'm just feeling worthless, and pathetic.

The oranges strike back

The problem with February is it's oranges season. Everywhere you go, you see oranges. Everywhere you turn to, there are those round orange fruit lying on the shelves, on the car seat, in the fridges, and in boxes on the floor.

So you grabbed one, peel off the skin, and start eating those sweet little thing. And spit out the seeds all over the place.

Yes, that's the way I do it anyway.

For over a week now, I've been eating oranges. And plenty of oranges. It's like 3 oranges after lunch, another 3 in the evenings, and then another 5 after dinner. Then of course there's the one before bed. Come to think of it, there was one night where my dinner consisted of oranges and oranges only. Suddenly, from a fruit, it has turned into an obsession. I just can't get enough of them. To me, they no more look round and orange. They are anything I wanted them to be. They can be a a double cheeseburger, or a hot chicken soup. And they definitely taste better than oatmeal.

That's the problem. There is an abundance of oranges in my life. I keep getting them for free. I went to the mechanic the other day and he gave me a handful of oranges. I went to the friendly neighbourhood Mamak for a late supper and they gave me an orange. But the source of my endless supply of oranges is my office. There are boxes and boxes of them, lying around just to be taken and eaten. And since I can't see free food lying around waiting to be taken and eaten, I found it as my duty to do justice to the oranges. And so the feasting begins.

Of course, another problem of an overdose of oranges is you keep on going to the toilet. It's like ethnic cleansing for my bowels, they are getting sick of the oranges and they just wanted them out of the system. So, it's orange comes in, orange goes out. The weird part is, now my waste product smells like oranges. It looks like oranges too. And all I know, it might even taste like one too. But of course I wouldn't go that far to proof that!

And people keep telling me that I should stop eating them since they are making my cough gets even worse. Even my mechanic is now acting as my doctor, telling me about how oranges are cold based food, and how they irritate the throat. I guess I should listen to him, since he did a good job fixing my car. Maybe he knows what he was talking about.

So I won't be touching, or eating any oranges from now on.

Late again

It was a weird dream. I woke up startled, with images of a hippogriff and a topless three-headed girl still clear in my mind. The girl was sexy, but the three heads kept whispering different things to me, confusing me with secrets and lies. I shrugged the images off my mind, and glanced at the time.

It's 9am! I'm so late for work.

I jumped into the shower for a quick wash, and after putting on some clothes, rushed out and got into the car. Luckily I only live 5 minutes away from work, so a few minutes late won't do me any harm.

However, when I reached the office, the gate was locked, and it seemed that nobody is at work. Wait a minute, what day is today? Damn it! It's a Saturday!

And to think that I rushed out for nothing. That's what happened when there was a public holiday in the middle of the week, and all I think about before I go to sleep is work.

Time to go home and hit the snooze button.

Addicted

I hate to admit it, but I am hooked to Facebook. Now, I have read previously about other people's addiction and scoffed at them as having nothing else better to do, but I guess my words are coming back to haunt me.

That explains why I haven't written anything in here for days now.

It's not that I don't have anything else better to do, in fact, anything else has now been postponed to an indefinite time. My clothes are lying all over the place, the kitchen is now a war zone, my lawn is now a jungle to my cats, and my stack of newspapers lay stationary under the bed unread. But the most incredible part is, the TV has been silence for almost a week now.

Me, not watching TV? Now that is totally unheard off!

Come to think of it, I can still remember once upon a time ago when I got hooked to something else. Years ago, when I was way younger and foolish, I used to be hooked to MUDS. It's actually an online text-based multiplayer role-playing game. It's something like Ragnorak Online, but instead with graphics, it is all text-based. That means you have to read the description and type in the command instead of clicking the mouse. In a way, it improved my typing speed, since you really need to type fast in order to be good at it.

But that was a really long addiction. I think I spent most of my waking hours playing the game. The computer lab was open 24 hours at that time, and I would be there, diligently working on my character, levelling up each night and interacting with the other players. Don't ask me when I found the time to eat, and attend classes. I probably did that when I was sleeping.

The MUDS I was playing was called LordMud, and it was based on Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Yes, I've read the books long before the movies were out, and the world and characters in the MUDS were based on the books. I was even appointed as a builder, and help to improve the place with new areas.

Too bad LordMud has ceased to exist.

So what is there to gain from this kind of addiction? Probably nothing. Wasting away in front of the computer is not how I envision myself doing nowadays. Maybe this time it is only temporary. Maybe I'm just doing this to keep myself distracted. Maybe I'm just bored.

Damn you, Facebook!

A bladderful of burden

It was unbearable. Sitting at the back of the bus, I squirmed and tapped my foot impatiently. The bus had only been on the road for 5 minutes, and I was already fidgeting. I crossed my legs every now and then, trying to keep myself distracted long enough to forget about the problem at hand.

Looking at the scenery outside didn't help either. There were traces of flooding everywhere, and at certain places, there was still water on the ground. Yellow muddy water. The ones that you wouldn't want to step into. Who knows what lies underneath?

The next exit was still 30km away. I wasn't sure if I could hold that long. I suddenly thought of my water bottle in the bag. Sure, there was still some water inside, but I could empty the bottle and slowly refill it. But to do it inside a bottle, now that would be a challenge. At least I was at the back of the bus, sitting on a single seat. The man next to me across the aisle was sleeping, and the pretty lady in front of me won't notice at all. All I need was to be discreet, and quiet. But I have never done this before, and what if it overflows?

The roadside. I can always ask the driver to stop temporarily and run down and do it by the roadside. But it was daylight, and the highway was packed with motorists. But at this moment, does it matter? I was on the verge of exploding, and now my fists were clenched tightly as I tried to keep my bladder in check.

15km away to the next stop. I can do this. I can wait another 15km. But I need to distract myself. I know, I should think of something sexy. Something stimulating. Like a naked Beyonce or Rihanna. But I just can't concentrate. Beyonce suddenly turned watery, and Rihanna was holding an umbrella walking under the rain. That didn't help at all.

10km. Calm down. Close your eyes, you can do this. Just a little bit more. I was now sitting very still, for any single movement might just triggered it out. Maybe a little pain might distract me enough, so I started to bite my fingers. Okay, that didn't help at all.

5km more. So close, yet so far away. The bus is now travelling at a constant speed. It shouldn't take long now. My legs were now shivering. And as another signboard flashed by, stating the next rest stop is a further 2km away, I jumped up and walked to the front. I begged the bus driver to stop at the next incoming stop. The driver just grunted, and I sat there next to him. Almost there, almost there. And as the bus swerved to the left, I said a silent prayer. The door was only halfway open when I jumped down and walked as fast as I could to the toilet.

And I have to say, it was the best 5 minutes ever. I stood there at the urinal, sighing and enjoying myself tremendously, glad that I finally managed to empty my full bladder. For a moment, I felt like a huge burden was lifted of my shoulder. The ecstasy was too much.

That ought to teach me not to drink too much before a long journey.

What women want

I can live up to the ripe age of a hundred, which sounds ridiculous, and still not understand women. I can date 100 women, which sounds more ridiculous, and still not understand them. I can devote my whole lifetime to study them, and at the end of the day, I will still be back at square one. And I can love one woman, and one woman only, and may die a happy man, yet I may still not understand her completely.

If you’re a general in a battle, one of the ways to defeat your enemy is to think like the enemy. Anticipate your enemy’s every moves, and you might just win the battle. It’s like a game of chess; the one who can see his opponent next moves is as close to winning the game.

But women are not the enemy. So we do not think like them. And dating women is not like playing a game of chess, so we do not plan our next move and anticipate their next move. Although I got a feeling that is what we do most of the time anyway. There are times when we even tried to hard that it repels them away.

You put little effort, you put too much effort, you put just the right amount of effort, and nothing seems to work. Better not to do anything then, you might think. But you do not want to live alone and lonely for the rest of your life. You might not need them now, but further down the line, you’ll be wondering, and pondering, what would have happened if you had made that extra move, taken that extra step. Maybe life would be a little better. But then again, maybe not.

Come to think of it, it’s a huge gamble. You can live without them, you can’t live without them. I’ve known friends who are happily married, and I’ve known friends who were married for a short time, and got divorced. But that doesn’t stop them from dating other women, and for some, remarrying. And I known a friend who divorced his wife, and 5 years later, ended up remarrying his ex-wife. Now, how weird is that?

And there are also some who are single, and they look happy. But I have no idea what goes on in their mind, especially late at night. (I’m not in that category, since I’m single and miserable)

Somehow, I believe women secretly do not know what they themselves want in the first place. Maybe that’s the reason why men can never understand them. Everytime we thought we had everything figured out, they throw a curve ball instead, and there goes strike one. In the end, we’ll end up hitting air instead of the ball.

Strike three, you’re out! Back to the dug out, buster!

The big L

"Hi, my name is Ardy and I am a loser, with a capital L."

"Hello Ardy," everyone is the room would greet me.

Welcome to Loser's Anonymous, where you find comfort with the people with the same predicament as you are.

The L word.

No, not love. Not even lust.

But loser.

Now, what constitute a loser? How do you know that you belong in this group? You have to achieve certain life experiences to qualify yourself as a loser.

1. You're 30 and still single, not by choice, and not because of the lack of trying, but just because you just can't get the opposite sex to stay interested in you long enough to initiate a relationship.




2. You have more than one cat at home, and you talk to them most of the time, not because you wanted to, but because you don't have anyone to talk to and it's better to talk to another living creature than to talk to yourself or have a conversation in your head.




3. You only have 7 real friends and more than 30 cyber friends.




4. You work your butt off but still earning the same amount of money as you did 5 years ago.




5. You can't remember the last time you had a relationship, if you ever had one and didn't imagine it. And you can't remember the last time you had sex (pleasuring yourself with fantasies of real women does not count as having sex).




6. Your mum is hinting about matching you up with her friend's daughter.




7. You eat oatmeal alone while watching TV for dinner, and that is actually the high point of your day and you can't wait to do it again tomorrow.




8. The opposite sex doesn't give you a second glance. Heck! They don't even glance at you. At all.




9. You watch Martha Stewart's Show and text/call your friend during the show expressing your profound love for Martha and commenting about the show.




10. You love to dance, but the only place you do so is in front of the mirror, naked, while drooling over your own body.

If you have more than 4 of the above, then you can join me in our next meeting.

Don't have a cow, man

I miss being a cow. Yes, once upon a time, I was a cow. I started to notice that I was a cow when I was able to eat anything all the time, thus reaffirming that my stomach has 4 compartments, just like a cow, the rumen, reticulum, omasum and obamasum. Nowadays, I'm stuck with just one chamber, thus limited my capability to eat non-stop.

You know how in school kids like to give you nicknames (most of the time bad nicknames) based on your bad traits, or just simply to mock your father's name, or because of a physical defect? I have a friend who was called Mamut, because his father's name was Mohamad. Mamut is the name of Mumm-Ra's (the ever-living) dog is Thundercats. How silly is that? Another friend was called toyol, not because he likes to steal things, but because there was one time, he was coming out from the toilet with just a towel wrapped around his waist, when another friend came along from behind and pull his towel, leaving him completely naked. But instead of running for cover, he started to chase the prankster around the block, for about 10 minutes, completely naked. Of course almost everyone witnessed the incident, and thus the nickname.

Another friend was called Tom, not because he looked like Tom Cruise, but because his teeth was like A.R. Tompel's teeth, a bit potruding. While another one was called Bad, because he suffered the same fate, but since Tompel was already taken, he was called Bad based on A.R. Badul. How funny is that?

When I was in form 1, I liked to be at the front of the queue in front of the dining hall. Dinner was after Maghrib, and normally, after prayers you walked up to your dorms and changed before heading to the dining hall. But me being me (greedy and wanting to grab the biggest piece of chicken or fish), I wore my pants underneath my sarong, and as the prayers ended, just grabbed my bag at the back, took off my sarong and ran to the dining hall. Needless to say I was always at the front of the queue, and always ended up with the biggest portion (sometimes even double portion) of everything.

This eventually earned me the nickname Sprinter Dewan Makan (SDM). One thing about me, I really love to eat, even boarding school meals, which has the reputation of being yucky and disgusting at times. I eat everything, from the ikan jacket, to the wormy vegetables and the rotten potatoes. I guess I pretty much damaged my tastebuds, that's why until now, I can never tell whether the food is really good, because to me, most food tasted good (to a certain extend).

Anyway, my friends called me sprinter for a few years. Then one day, it all stopped, because I turned out to be a long distanced sprinter, and started winning races and represent the school in athletics competitions. That was when the nickname was retired, I guess being a real sprinter defeated the purpose of calling me sprinter (and I stopped running to the dining hall by then, because I've made friends with the makcik dewan makan, and it was a whole lot easier to get more portions for my meals that way).

Luckily enough, I remained slim and fit even after all these years of gorging myself away. I guess I have my high metabolism to thank to, and my active lifestyle also helps. But lately, I've noticed that I don't eat that much anymore. I guess age is catching up with me, and I'm more concern about what I put inside of me now. It can be frustrating at times, because I know I still want to eat, but I can feel my bloated stomach weaving away painfully, and I know it is time to stop.

Space: Above and beyond

Did you watch the launch last night? The rocket launch to take the first ever Malaysian into space? Yes, it was a defining moment. A history in the making.

For over a week now, Astro has dedicated a channel to publicise the event. And it was on for 24 hours a day. Not being hooked to cable, I was not privileged to watch the show, which is a blessing in disguise, because to me, the whole thing is being blown out of proportion. But then again, we are talking about sending our own man into space, the final frontier.

So the guy is an eye candy. Elton John looks better on his bad hair day. So the guy is a doctor. McSteamy can beat him anytime, anyday. So the guy beat thousands of applicants for the title of angkasawan. That was only because I didn't apply for the job.

Okay, I might not be a doctor. I might also not be a pilot. In fact, I'm a nobody. I'm not even an eye candy. People don't give me second glances.

So, why do I think I can beat him?

I don't. I'm just bitter that I was not in the rocket blasting into space, and creating history. I'm jealous because I'm just a lollipop, while he is a cotton candy.

It's just a matter of time. Sooner or later, we'll have our first astronaut. Sooner or later, we'll have our own space shuttle (maybe we'll have to buy from the Russians), our first space station, out first nuclear weapon. Of course there is a price to pay for everything, but in the name of development, and putting our nation in the world's map, it is all worth it.

And I wouldn't be surprised, that upon his return, he will be conferred awards upon awards, starting with a Datukship.

The lucky bastard!

Bad hair day

There was a time when I was obsessed with my hair. I was getting bored of seeing myself in the mirror with the same hairstyle I've been wearing for the past 15 years. Not that I spend much time on my hair anyway. A quick comb will just set it in place, and I'm all ready to go. I don't use hair cream and gels, because I never liked the smell and the greasy feel they left on my hair.

When I was a teenager, I used to keep my hair long. It got so long that it annoyed my dad so much until I had to cut it short. Anyway, I guess it was about time I cut it, since the hot weather was really driving me nuts, and it was getting hard to play basketball with my hair flying all over my face.

After a very long deliberation, I finally decided that I should change my hairstyle.Get a makeover. Change how I look. Easier said than done, that's for sure.

I set on a quest with a friend of mine, and we asked around for a reputable hair salon. Now, I have never been in one, truth to be told. All this while, whenever I need a haircut, I will just frequent the friendly neighbourhood barber who charged me only RM10 for a haircut (used to be RM8 back in the old days), and still have time to do a quick head massage and a nice neck twist. Cheap, and convenient.

To cut a long story short (because I've listed down a few salons and did some research on them), we finally settled for a local salon (something within my budget). It came highly recommended from another friend of ours. So we made the appointment, and went there to get our hair done.

Of course, me being me, I still haven't decided on my new hairstyle, so the stylist had to endure my indecisiveness for quite a spell. Magazines upon magazines were flicked, and I finally chose one, out of desperation. Worse come to worse, I can always change it again in a few months time.

And so, I walked out that day with a new look. Not much of a difference, but at least it was something new. I was happy with it, until after a few days later, I noticed that my hair was turning back to its usual self.

I guess, the next time I'm thinking of another makeover, I need to do something drastic, like cutting my hair really short, or shave it clean.

Come to think of it, I wasn't really looking for a new hairstyle. What I wanted was a new life.

Dial *100#

Did you hear about the Hotlink Super Savers? You pay RM2 and you get unlimited talktime from 12am to 12pm for that particular day. Or you can even choose unlimited SMS for the same period of time. Of course this only applies for Maxis to Maxis numbers. Sounds like a good deal, right?

The promotion is in full blast. The advertisement is on TV every 10 minutes or so - start saving with Hotlink. Just a few days ago, they had a roadshow near my place, with beautiful sexy girls in red walking around selling the product. And from the looks of it, there were a lot of suckers that day, especially men (I would be one too if I haven't used Hotlink yet). How can you say no to beautiful sexy girls in red talking so close to your face that you can smell their breath? So I bought those RM10 top-up cards, since saying no is just inappropriate in this kind of situation. Yeah, I know. I'm a sucker.

Anyway, the thing that pisses me is the fact that I have been trying for the past week to get the unlimited talktime offer, to no avail. The network is always busy, the server is always down, and tonight, the whole thing was sold out. I mean, why bother with the promotions and all, if in the end, all you going to do is pissed people like me? I can't watch my favourite TV shows in peace because of the stupid add. It's in every single break of commercial. How annoying is that?

And nevermind who I'm going to call in the middle of the night if I did get through. All I want is the choice to make the call, but now, I don't have the choice, because I didn't get the supersavers deal.

That's the thing about commercials. They promise you a lot of things. The food always looks good on TV. The perfume seems to smell nicer on TV (especially if there's Scarlett Johansson in it). And then there's the Proton I-care commercial. I'm sure a lot of you out there drives a Proton, and has been to a Proton Service Centre. Somehow, what you get is not like what you see on TV.

Especially when you drive a Tiara. Most of the time, it would be excuses, no more parts or very hard to get parts, expensive because it's complicated and all the other bullshits. And the labour charge is almost triple from the other workshops. I don't mind if I'm getting a good service, but with all that crap, I'd rather send my car to the workshop near my place.

If there's a law that allow me to sure these advertisers, I would definitely do. I did consider about it a few years back, when a particular detergent didn't give the effect as promised. But upon consulting my lawyer friend, he advised me that it would just be a waste of time. And money.

Yes, I know. I really had nothing better to do at that time.

Broom freak

I am obsessed with cleaning products. Be it brooms, mops, floor cleaners, all-purpose magic cleaners, and a lot more. I have 5 different brooms at home - a lidi broom, one of those paddy broom, 2 all terrain hard brooms (one for indoors and one for outdoors) and one of those normal broom that you can find in a classroom 20 years ago (I bought it just because it reminded me of my sweeping-days when I was in school).

And recently, I just added another broom in my collection. This particular broom is unique, as its head is sponge-like, and it was made in Japan. Well, that was what the salesgirl in my local pasar malam told me. For RM20, I get the broom, and an extra head (the head is detachable). Being a sucker to brooms, and being told by the salesgirl that there were only two brooms left, I immediately purchased the broom.

Nothing wrong with having too many brooms, right?

I also have an assorted of mops, all in different sizes and colours. I especially like the magic mop, because it is very easy to use, and I don't even have to get my hands wet. Very convenient for a quick clean-up, especially after my kitten misbehaved around the house.

As for floor cleaners, I am currently using Ajax Fabuloso, because I got suckered by the advertisement. The woman in the commercial looked so happy and blissful after mopping her floor, and she seemed to be the envy of her neighbours. So I thought, maybe I can be happy if I use the same product as she did. Of course, I didn't get the same effect that I wanted, but at least my floor smells nice.

And there is also Mr. Muscle, the all-purpose cleaner (again, I got it because of the commercial). Previously, I was using Easy-Off Bang, but I found that the liquid irritates my skin. Upon checking the instruction at the back of the bottle, I was supposed to wear gloves when using the thing, and I found that inconvenient. I also have an assortment of window cleaners, leather polishers and dishwashers. Some of these are still unused. Maybe I should open my own cleaning company, with the amount of cleaning products that I have.

Of course, having all these does not mean that I use them all the time. Buying, and using, are two different things. I love to clean, but sometimes, my laziness gets the better of me. But it's good to know that anytime that I feel like cleaning the house, I have all the tools and cleaners at my disposal.

And looking at the rate I'm buying them, pretty soon I'll need a whole store room just to keep them.

Ardyana

Once upon a time, I was in a long distance relationship. Actually, that was my first real relationship.

My first real love.

It lasted for a year.

Then she dumped me for another man, a friend of mine, who was always there by her side, while I was across the globe, thousands of miles away, thinking and dreaming about her.

And missing her all the same.

I still keep all her letters. Two boxes full of them. Hidden safely in my wardrobe at home. The letters are a reminder to me of my first sweet love, innocent and carefree, true and loyal (on my part).

I can still remember the morning she called, and asked for a break. And all I thought at that time was she was asking me out for breakfast! How wrong I was!

Life was never the same again after that. I never had proper closure, I never met her again. I never laid my eyes on her again eversince our first encounter. I never had the chance to tell her how broken and wrecked I was.

And I lived with that regret in my life. And the burden of an unrequited love, casting a dark shadow upon my life.

She is married now, of that I knew. And I have let her go, the grains of love in my hourglass has dried. Yet, I could not stop myself thinking about her sometimes, thinking about what might have been, and what might have happened, if we were never apart.

Probably nothing. If it was not meant to be, it was not meant to be.

The house of idiots

Tomorrow, we'll be celebrating our nation's 50th Independence Day. There'll be plenty of events being lined up for the celebration. Folks from every corner of the nation will be going out in full force to the nation's capital for the celebration.

That means, the roads will be busy, traffic will be a standstill, and public transportation will be packed like sardines.

While all these are going on, I'll be far away in the middle of the jungle, enjoying the calm and beauty of nature. Far from the noises, far from the parades, far from the fireworks. The only thing I expected to see are the monitor lizards ransacking my campsite and the occasional leeches on my breeches. While the only noise I expected to hear are the rhythmic sound of the cascading rivers and the birds greeting me early in the morning.

But that's beside the point.

50 years of independence. Some people have lived that long, and more, and you can ask them about their achievements throughout their life. And I think, as a nation, we have gone a long way since that eventful day in 1957. So much has been achieved, so many developments have taken place.

And as new breeds of generations are welcomed to the nation, old ones faded away, ravaged by the passing of time. The generation gaps expand, and so does the meaning of independence. Younger generations are being lulled into complacency, cocooned by the luxuries and safety provided by their parents, and the generations before them.

They will fly the flag; they will sing the national anthem. And they will flood the celebration grounds and attend the concerts. Not because the feel patriotic when they do so, but because that's what everyone else is doing.

Follow the crowd, right?

We can do a lot of things to instill the spirit of patriotism in their young hearts. The government runs plenty of campaigns for this purpose. In school, kids are taught the history of the nation. However, all these will come to no avail, if the people we elected as our leaders, fail to set a good example.

How can you teach someone the right thing, when you yourself are doing the wrong thing?

Yesterday, the news highlighted the proceeding in the house of idiots. One MP stood up, and urged his fellow idiots to raise their arms and shouted Merdeka! for 7 times. And so they all did, except for a few, who thought they were better off not doing so, and stayed seated. After the farce, a heated argument followed, with one MP accusing the ones who didn't join the show of patriotism as unpatriotic and selfish. An exchange of words followed, more idiots started to join in the bickering, and a few cursed words were exchange.

Bickering. Yes, that was what they did.

The bickered with each other. At least, no chairs or punches were thrown. But fine example they are setting to the watching eyes of the nation. And they called themselves leaders!

This was just a mere example, there were plenty more of bickering that happened throughout the years.

Read more about the farce in this one sided entry.

Happy Independence Day!

Morning has broken

There are two things that I really hate but I'm still doing them. I hate waking up early in the morning. And I hate the cold shower that follows after that. The problem is, I have to wake up early in the morning. Of course the shower part is optional, but I need the jolt of jet cold water on my body and face to fully bring me to the world of the living.

Still, if I have the money, I would install one of those hot showers gizmo, so that at least I could take hot shower instead of a cold one.

For the longest time ever, I've been waking up early in the morning. And here's the thing, I was never a morning person, and I will never be one. During my school years, it was 6am. Then there was college years (which was considerably better) and now working years. I can't wait for the day that I am my own boss, and I can start work whenever I want. Of course, my business would fold in no time. The early bird gets the worm, remember?

I think it would help tremendously if I'd go to bed early instead of 2-3am like I normally do. I guess that's the thing, I never seem to get enough sleep. I always stay up late. I'm like the night guy. Night guy wants to stay up late. What about getting up after 4-5 hours of sleep? Well, that's morning guy's problem. I'm night guy. I stay up as late as I want.

Of course, the funny thing about sleeping is the moment you're in your bed, trying to go to sleep, a thousand thoughts pass through your mind, like trains going in circles. I once saw this toy train in Toys'R'us where the train went up and around a mountain. The tracks swirled around and around, and at the top there was this cute little station, with cute little people waiting for the train to arrive. And wouldn't you know it? Once the train reached the station, it didn't stop at all. Those poor little cute people! Still, I would love to own that train set.

Anyway, that is my stumbling block. I can toss and turn in bed for hours before my mind goes wandering off to a distant planet where I find it hard to catch up - that's when I started to drift away. Therefore, to avoid all the unnecessary wild imaginations, I prefer to hit the bed around 2am, when I know I am really tired, and I have to keep telling myself that I need to fall asleep so that I won't be sleepy the next day at work.

But don't you find it amazing how sometimes your brain can conjure up so many thoughts in a split second, giving you splitting headache? By the way, I think that's how the term splitting headache came by, don't you agree? Too many thoughts in a split second equal to splitting headache. Somehow, my mind seems to be on the utmost alert when I'm trying to shut it off. But then again, you don't really shut it off totally when you go to sleep. That's how you ended up with dreaming, your body is asleep but your mind is wandering.

But that is another tale to tell.

Bodyless kitten and the ear-scarred cat

My ever-so-pregnant cat finally gave birth to 4 little kittens a few weeks ago. Three of them are black, with streak of greys and white, while the other one is white with a black head. The mother cat chose the mailbox of my neighbour as her base. Luckily it's an empty house, else the inhabitants will get a shock of their life when they check their mailbox and instead of letters, discover that there are kittens inside.

However, the mailbox is not weatherproof, so I made her a small snugly place on my front porch to house her kittens. Using an old wardrobe, courtesy from my sister, the mother cat is now cosily housed. Of course I would prefer them to stay indoors, but she refuses to be confined, being used to her freedom.

The arrangement works nicely, until yesterday morning. Before leaving for work, I checked on them as usual, and to my horror, discovered that there were only 3 kittens left. Upon proper check, I noticed that there were 3 kittens and a bodiless head in the wardrobe! Apparently, the 2-weeks old kitten has been eaten, with only the head and the bones sticking out from the head remained.

Now, I've watched enough CSI to do my own investigations, but already being late for work, I had no choice but to leave the crime scene and investigate the massacre later. It was definitely puzzling. I heard of cats who eat their young's, but that normally happens during the birth, when the mother cat is so weak that it needs to eat in order to survive. But this? Definitely puzzling.

When I got back from work, I straight away removed the head (there was already a distinct smell). The head was still wet. And I got another shock, when I discovered that another kitten was lying in there motionless. Dead. And so the mystery thickens.

And I also noticed, that another of my cat, the orange one, has a very bad gash on his left ear, like something had bitten on it. Now, what the heck happened here?

I buried the head and the dead kitten in one grave. The mother cat looked distress, she was meowing and meowing, trying to tell me what happened. Of course, it would have helped if I had learnt cat language in college instead of all the useless programming subjects.

I think what happened was another cat from the neighbourhood, the big light-brown male which I always see stealing my food, had came along and ate the kitten. My orange cat, being the protector of the house, fought him off, but was bitten and scampered off hiding under the car. The victor, after swatting away the mother cat, proceeded to devour the white kitten.

Or, my orange cat suddenly had a craving for fresh meat, and decided to eat the kitten. The mother cat fought him off and bit his eat, but being bigger and stronger, he managed to subdue the mother cat and ate the kitten. But I don't think my orange cat is that cruel, because I had him since he was a wee kitten, and he is picky when it comes to food.

Of course, the mother cat herself could have eaten her kitten. If that is the case, then it's definitely a puzzling one.

Whatever it is, I have moved the other two kittens inside, where I can keep a closer eye on them.

The Big Lie

It's hard to remember the last time I had someone to share my meals with. Nowadays, meals are such a bother because I hate eating alone, that most of the time I just stick to oatmeal. At least I get to watch TV while eating it at home.

By the way, is there such thing as an overdose of oatmeal?

Because if there is, I think I'm having the symptoms.

My digestive system is so efficient that whatever goes into me get processed in less than an hour. That means, if I eat 3 meals a day, I'll be going to the toilet for the exact same number of times. And I also noticed that now, there is an after smell, not a very pleasant one, when I'm done. It was odourless before oatmeal came into my life.

A few mornings ago, I had a craving for the McD Big Breakfast. The advertisement has been on TV for quite some time, and being a couch potato (eventhough I don't really have a couch), I have seen it numerous times. You know, the one where the couple woke up early at 4am and then went to McD, saying good morning! with a big smile.

And so there I was, a few mornings ago, with bleary eyes and not a hint of a smile on my lips, in one of those 24-hours McD. I eagerly ordered the Big Breakfast and sat down to devour my meal. But somehow, after seeing the whole meal, I wonder why they called it the big breakfast. When all it consisted was some scrambled eggs, a thin piece of meat, a pocket of hash brown, two slices of bread and a cup of coffee (refillable). The one on TV looks much bigger than the one in front of me!

I could eat 2 sets and still not feeling full. Regrets started to creep inside my mind, seeing that for RM8.04(inclusive of tax), I could get a really good breakfast consisting of a plate of nasi lemak with chicken and tempeh, 2 roti canai and a cup of coffee.

My point is, I didn't go to the toilet that morning. Nope, apparently, the word big is just a misconception. Even my digestive system didn't recognise it as a meal (more like a snack!)

Needless to say, I went home still feeling hungry, and went straight to bed.