12

My dear Rebellious Wolf,

Some friendships end up in flames.

Some friendships last all through high school, never to be spoken of again.

Some friendships go on for a lifetime.

I hope ours is the last one.

I love you. How could I not when we have known each other for ages now? With you I am that eternal tomboy who chases after poor little cats in the school canteen. With you, I am eternally that girl obsessing with Scary Spice.

With you, I am eternally 12.

Things happen in life. Everyone that we encounter in life is there to teach us a lesson. No matter how fucked up it is, but it is there. It’s just whether we realise it at that time or not. The lesson could be learned within one day or maybe 10 years from now but there is a lesson there. It’s just difficult for you to see now.

I’m sorry that this is happening to you now. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more then writing a crappy blog post. I’m sorry that I’m not down in Malaysia now cause if I am, I would have whooped them bitches up for you. But then again, you probably wouldn’t want me to.

But I would. Cause confrontations are my forte……just like forgiveness is yours.

Take the classy way out. Keep your head held up high. Be strong. Remember the good times of the last 5 years and let go of the people they’ve become. They don’t deserve you in their lives. They don’t deserve you cause they do not want to see what a lovely, talented, sweet, dependable, awesome person you are. They do not want to see because they’re too consumed with envy. Envy clouds the mind and heart. And lose them a friend.

So yes, take the classy way out. Cut your loses and walk away. They don’t deserve you. Perhaps they did a long time ago….but not anymore.

And remember next year I’ll see you here. We’ll be 12 again. We’ll be back at the age that is void of troubles and envy and perpetual jealousy. When life was much simpler and everything was straight forward. We’ll be 12 again, you and I.

Only this time around we’ll do it in Australia.

Hanya untuk mu Nixa. Kekasih lama dari zaman muda-muda kita dulu. First love dowh! Tak der lah jantan lain sebelum jantan-jantan ni. Hahaha! Here's to childhood memories that could never be replaced. And of friendship that could last a lifetime if we both work at it. And for motorboats that will never run out of fuel. Ahem.

Paranoia...or justified?

I finally have the time to blog now seeing that my sis and bro-in-law (hereby will be known as BIL cause I’m too damn lazy to type the thing all the time okay. Let me be.) are already asleep. I am doing this all on her laptop cause I left mine at home.


Not that I wanted to but because my sis practically yelled down the phone telling me not to bring mine. Her reason being is that when I come back to Malaysia, I will be bringing a lot of stuff so what’s the point of lugging around the laptop. Just additional burden. I could of course yelled back at her saying that I will bring it cause my laptop is my lifeline, an extension of my being, the very reason of my sanity and where I store half naked pictures of firemen I’ve accumulated over the years…but I didn’t. Cause as much as I love my sister and I do; the woman is fucking fierce okay. I get shit scared when she’s angry with me. I still have memories of her yelling at me when I broke her hairclip when I was 7 and she was 12 and that still send shivers down my spine.


I still have an uncontrollable urge to scream out “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to sit on your hairclip with my giant (yet sexy) ass! I’ll buy you a new one!!” whenever we get into an argument. Actually I did that once a couple years ago and she stopped yelling at me, stared and then just walked away mumbling something about weirdos, sister and “just my luck.”


But….I digress.


This post is not about Finland yet. It’s about my journey coming here.


Before I left Malaysia for here, my parents reminded me again and again and again not to leave my bag alone unattended at the airport, not to speak to people, just sit quietly and mind my own business. Not that I am a 9 year old kid that needs reminding but because well they are parents and these days you are always reading about how Malaysian women ended up being drug mules for something or other. I am in fact a single, young woman traveling on my own- prime candidate for a whooole lot of fuckery.


My parents were telling me the same exact thing in the car on the way to the airport. When we were parking the car at the airport carpark. While I was checking in my luggage at the airport. While I was searching for a place to sit at the airport. When I was sipping my hot chocolate at the airport’s café.


Same damn thing. Don’t leave your bags alone. Don’t talk to strangers. Do not become a drug mule and end up in a Turkish prison. Basically the same thing every parent tells their children when they are traveling alone ya know.


So I got on the plane and ended up sitting in an isle sit. There were 2 empty seats between me and some middle aged dude. For a while there it seems like the 2 seats were going to stay empty when at the last minute this dude came in. Blond hair, blue eyes, about 6 feet tall, beer gut hanging out, tattoos all over his arm and uummm…….braided beard. No I’m serious. His beard…..was braided. It was one long…thing hanging off his chin and I knew he was going to be trouble before he parked his ass right beside me. It wasn’t comfortable, I can assure you that. About 5 mins before take off he asked the airhostess for vodka. I thought he was a nervous flyer, probably needs a small amount of liquid courage. So yeah we all have issues. But apparently his issue became my issue when he downed the vodka with 2 white pills. Dude, you don’t mix liquor and medications. Look at what happened to Heath Ledger. Let’s all take something out of that little episode shall we?


About 10 mins into the flight, he started mumbling incoherently. Then he fidgeted about. The hell, these are coach seats and fucker you’re 6 feet tall. Stop fidgeting. After that he begun leaning on me, by this time I believe that he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. Liquor, pills and being that high in the air can do shit to you so I managed to squeeze out of the seat and asked an air hostess to relocate me. I honestly believe that he wasn’t a bad dude…just you know he enjoys taking pills with Vodka.


All to his own.


I did not encounter another pill popper at my next seat but there was this old lady and all through the flight she tried to make conversation with me. At first I pretended not to speak English but that was stupid cause I ended up taking out an English novel to read so then I had to speak to her. She was about 75, Irish by her accent and claimed to be a nun. She wore this huge cross at her neck and told me about her missionary work. I listened to her with feigned interest but really you know….I really do not care. All I wanna do is sleep or check out the steward with the tight ass. He wasn’t hot per’se but tight ass yo…tight ass. Priorities people, priorities.


I dunno if it was the exhaustion of sitting on my ass for 9 hours or my parent’s inflicted paranoia or the fact that I’m obsess with CSI, but it occurred to me that the lady was mentioning the fact that she is nun in every other sentence.


“Me, being a nun told him…..
“Because I’m a nun….
“We nuns know better…..


Like yes, I get that you are a nun. You don’t have to tell me 3 thousand time. God. Yours and mine…but yeah. It was like she was selling it too hard. So I just kept quite. She kept on asking me about me as well. “Was I flying alone? Is anyone meeting me there? Is this my first time traveling alone?” Kinda…weird. Or maybe not but I’ve decided its no big cause I wont be seeing her after the plane landed anyways. After the plane landed in Amsterdam she asked me if I have a transit and that if I would like to have coffee with her, I told her no cause I much rather not waste time and get to the next plane immediately. I thought that was the end of that.


I was browsing through some of the duty free stuff in Schipol when I bumped into her again and again, she asked me for coffee. Clearly I wasn’t rushing anywhere and I can’t refuse her. That would be plain rude so I said yes. I wasn’t happy bout it but there was nothing else I could do.



So we were having coffee and again she was telling me about her missionary work. I didn’t ask really. I mean, maybe she’s proud of what she does. Maybe she was trying to convert me. Maybe I am the perpetual drama queen creating drama in my head when there is none. Whatever it is, I was on edge with her. I felt that we did not “bumped” into each other; she singled me out. This is of course pure speculation.


So we had coffee and then I offered to clear the table and put away the try. I was just in the process of picking my bag from the floor and putting it over my shoulder when she tugged at it. She had her hand on my bag, tugging it towards her and she said


“Why don’t you leave your bag here while you put away the tray?’


What the fuck? Bitch, I am not gonna leave my bag to virtually a stranger whom I just met not even 10 hours ago, okay. And the hell, who the hell are you? I don’t even know you. The hell should I leave my bag with you. Maybe it was a combination of paranoia and exhaustion but alarm bells went off in my head. So I tugged my bag towards me, smiled politely and told her no thanks and this was the weird part….and maybe a bit creepy. She tugged it again. She was like “Oh no, I insist.”


The hell motherfucker?


I tugged again, stronger this time and told her no. Then I put away the tray and told her that I need to use the bathroom. In truth I was ditching her. I mean the fuck. That was creepy okay. You don’t go tugging people’s bag for no reason. I did however went to the bathroom and literally cleared out the entire contents of my bag on the floor of the stall. I went through one by one, I figured if I found anything suspicious and wasn’t mind to begin with; I would have flush it down the toilet. But there was nothing.


I did not went back to the café. I went straight to my Gate, sat through my 3 hours transit and made no eye contact with anyone. Too tired to deal with another fuckery.


Could have been paranoia but really….what’s the deal with the bag tugging bit? What do you guys think?

It's.....complicated

I have so much to write about. So much. But I dunno where to begin or where to end or how much details I wanna give. But seeing that I have been gone for a while now, it’s only fair that I begin with the juiciest bit in my life right now:

 

I am dating.

 

Two guys.

 

At the same time.

 

It’s not like what you think. It’s more complicated then that okay. It’s complicated. Don’t judge! It’s not like I want it to happen, it just did. It’s like I woke up one day I realise “Oh wow….I’m dating two guys….When did that happened?” And no, they don’t know bout each other. Oh dear God in Heaven and Ceiling Cat…I hope they don’t. Ever. Never ever. You guys have no fucking idea how fucked I will be if they find out about each other.

 

Even blogging bout this is risking it.

 

Anyways it’s not like I’m exclusive with either. It’s just dating. Since when did dating become an exclusive club? Never, that’s right. Wait, is it? Fuck I dunno. I am physically and emotionally exhausted these days. Juggling two guys is not easy. I dunno how those Muslim men who have like 2 wives or more does it. I mean….wow. Impressive man. More power. You bastard.

 

So right, so one of the guys.....he’s Number One. I know him from uni. He’s geeky and sweet and adorable. He has curly hair and dimples whenever he smiles. I like him a lot. In fact he was the guy that I mentioned in my previous post, the one that I have been waiting to go out with. The thing about is that….him and me. We have been doing the whole….dance since February. That fucking long, okay. Flirting and teasing and “Oh lets meet up for coffee” thingies but not actual…..official dates.

 

I mean, he is fucking dense okay. I know he’s geeky but holy fuck…..dense! My friends told me to drop hints that I like him. And I have! Bitches, I have been dropping hints like Japanese fighter pilots drop bombs during World War 2 okay….and still Nothing!! He gives me all these indications that he does like me but….. nothing.

 

Pussy okay. Pussy.

 

 

Pissed me off. So I begun liking him round Feb, became a full grown crush sometime in late March and then when I finally could no longer drop anymore hints without coming off as fucking desperate…I gave up on him. This was like early May. I can only wait for you for so long till you realise that you like me back and grow a set.

So I was like “Fuck this shit, fuck it all.” I was tired of waiting and I am a hot blooded woman. I have needs! I cannot sit around waiting for him to like fertilize his balls and grow a pair okay.

 

 

Your loss, Geek Boy.

 

 

So this whole inner turmoil happened sometimes in May. However the moment I gave up on him romantically, my life became easier. It was like a weight has been lifted. I no longer feel nervous to call him out just to hang out or chill. When you gave up on the romantic part and decided to just become friends…..it’s easier you know.

 

So that was that. I wasn’t meant to be. Que sera sera.

 

It was about two weeks ago that I was at a house party. The music was blaring, the booze was flowing, people were getting drunk all over and I decided that it was all too much for me. So I stepped out for some fresh air. He was there. No, not Geek Boy. Number Two. He was standing alone. I smiled at him and just stood there. We kinda stood there in silence till he offered me a ciggie and I told him no thanks cause I don’t smoke. Somehow we started talking, it was good. I can hear music in the background but where we were it was relatively quiet. Well quieter.

 

Then I mentioned that I was hungry and as it happens there was this 24hours pizza place across the street…so we went there. It was about 1 in the morning. It was good conversation, good pizza and I had a good time till my friend called me completely freaking out cause I was missing from the party. I told her where I was and then as it turns out we need to leave cause someone called the cops and we need to leave before the cops get there. Some shit like that. It was about 3 in the morning. So I told him that I had to go…before I left he reached across the table, held my hand and asked me if he can see me again. On Monday. It was Saturday morning.

 

 

I said yes. Duh.

 

 

Then we had that date on Monday. It was good. I also found out that he is….as in turns out……is in the Army. I was like “Wait, I’m sorry what?” He was like “Oh yeah. I’m an officer too. But a low ranking one. Just a lieutenant, nothing big.”

 

 

……………………………………………

 

Hoooollly fuck!!!!!!!!! You guys remember my fascination with men in uniform right? Wow bitches….dreams do come true. But I was all cool and blasé outside. I was like

 

“Oh wow….the army. What an interesting line of work. What made you chose it?”

 

What I really meant was:

 

“OMG!!! PUT ON YOUR FUCKING UNIFORM NOW SO I COULD JUMP YOUR BONES RIGHT NOW IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING RESTAURANT! YEAH BABY YEAH!!!!!”

 

I didn’t. But I wanted to. Oooohh how I wanted to….

 

Anyways….he was a bit of a badass. The night I met him, he had scuffles on his knuckles. When I asked him what happened, he was like “Me and my boys got into a fight with these idiots the other night. But its cool now.”

 

Hot.

 

The Lieutenant……he’s exciting you know. He’s a badass. Like he has this rough, quiet, rugged…..thing goin on. And every time we go out, he always held my hand and when he’s talking and I’m not looking at him he would tilt my chin up so that I would be looking up at him.

 

Hot sial.

 

 

It’s soooooo difficult to act unfazed and cool around him. But I have to you know. It’s too early in the game to let my guard down. Dating is a game anyways. But wah….he’s hot. Not the way he looks. He’s average looking, but the things he does…..exciting and……dangerous. In a way. I feel threatened by him. But threatened in a very......fascinating way.

 

 

If you get what I’m sayin…..

 

 

So that’s him. We had 2 dates, not including the pizza place.

 

Then last week I was having a problem with my assignment, so I called Geek Boy. I mean he is dense but he’s smart with studies. He is a geek. I was on the phone with him and I was like “Hey, how do I do question number 3. It’s rather vague and it’s such a bitch. I dunno how to go about it,” He explained it to me but I don’t get it so he was like

 

“You know what, I’ll get out of class and go to the library okay. So that I could get online and help you better with it.”

 

“Oh shit. You’re in class?! I’m so sorry. It’s cool. I’m so sorry for disturbing. You don’t have to leave class.”

 

“It’s allright. I don’t mind. For you I don’t mind.”

 

I was like….okay. What the fuck? But hey, maybe’s he being a good friend. You know…..Good. Friend. So I played it cool. Like nothing happened. Then a while later he buzzes me over MSN and helped me with the question. Like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

 

Then I asked him if our Tuesday movie thing still on. Usually on Tuesdays, Geek Boy, MiniSkirts and I go for movies together. Just hanging out. Nothing out of the ordinary. As it happens, my friends and I was also going out clubbing that night. So I asked him to join me. He can bring friends. No biggie. Then he said, and this is verbatim:

 

“No, not tonight. I’m too tired from all the assignments to go out and savour every moment with you.”

 

 

WHOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!!!!!

 

 

I sat in front of the computer screen completely dumbfounded. I didn’t know how to react to that….like exactly. So I played dumb.

 

 

“Oh that sucks. Would have been nice to have you there.”

 

 

All the while, in the inside I was going “WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF?!!!!!”

 

 

And then we chatted some more, bla la bla and I mentioned how stress I am cause of the assignments and the coming exams and he said “Let’s meet up on Tuesday for that movie. And I’ll give you a hug to make it all feel better.”

 

 

Waaaaah, it was like he grew balls overnight. It was amazing.

 

 

So Tuesday came and I went to see the movie. I wasn’t sure that it was date. Cause it was rather vague, wasn’t it? And besides he wanted to watch an action movie. Who watches an action movie on the first date? Seriously. Anyways, any doubt I had disappeared when I saw him waiting for me at the cinema. Holding a single sunflower.

 

I might have mentioned to him months ago that my favourite flower is the sunflower. And that a single sunflower is so much sweeter then a whole bouquet. But I said that….like in fucking March.

 

Duuudeeeee…..He remembered dude. He remembered.

 

So we went to watch the movie and he didn’t even try to put his arm around me but we were leaning into each other. The cutest part was that, there was this one sweet moment when the hero dude kissed like this chick in the movie and since I was practically leaning against him…..I could feel his heart beating like crazy. It was sooo cute. He was nervous as fuck. And then after a while…..he moved his hand and held mine and he wouldn’t let go all throughout.

 

I was like “CD, what the fuck are you doing? What about the other dude?” But another voice is saying you know, it’s only dating. And it’s not like its exclusive. And you did like him since Feb….and then you gave up….and this shit happened.

 

So. Much. Drama.

 

Then before the date ended, he asked me when he can see me again. And he just stared at me with these eyes…..and it was like a little puppy. It was so cute. I told him Friday. Let’s meet up again on Friday. This was on Tuesday. He smiled and he said “Good, cause I wasted too much time already.”

 

Geek Boy has got all the lines bitches. All the lines.

 

 

Then when I got home, The Lieutenant called.

 

 

“I want to see you again. Are you free on Friday?”….and I said. “No, I made plans. Let’s make it on Thursday instead.”

 

 

I honestly do not know what I’m playing at.

This is an anticlimax. My bad.

There’s a possibility that my asshole housemate is an evil genius.

 

So picking up from where I left last, I was all gearing up for an argument with Le Fucktard- I was just waiting for Tanya to leave the house. I gave it an hour so round 10pm I left my room to go knock on Le Fucktard’s door so that we can have our “talk” and guess what, fucker wasn’t home. No dude, seriously. His bedroom’s door was open and so was Tanya’s. I wasn’t satisfied so I went downstairs to check the laundry room just in case he was cowering behind the washing machine or something….but nothing. I was home alone.

 

 

Fucker ditched me.

 

 

Dude, I was even more pissed at that point. The fuck. You do not leave the house when I wanna yell at you. You just don’t. Period. I was so pissed I took out the frozen chocolate cake from the freezer and started eating. Emotional eating yo. Do you know how frustrating it is to look forward to yelling at someone and finding out the fucker wasn’t home? Wah, damn frustrating okay. I went to bed angry that night.

 

 

But I didn’t get a real good sleep cause my throat have been sore for the last few days. I think the frozen chocolate cake was the last straw cause I was pretty much coughing and clearing my throat all night long. Then at about 2am there was a knock on my bedroom’s door. I know it was 2am cause I go to sleep with my mobile phone okay. At first I thought I was hallucinating and then I heard it again. The knock.

 

 

On my bedroom’s door.

 

At 2 in the morning.

 

 

At first I thought “Oh, NOW he wanna have the talk? Fucker.” Then it occurred to me that people don’t talk at 2 in the morning. Which bring me to the next logical explanation in my still drugged with sleep mind- he’s outside my door. With a knife. And the moment I open the door he gonna stab me cause he is a psycho and he is pissed with me. Dude, I totally woke up at that point. I was like “Shit! Shit! I have no exit strategy! Ohmygod ohmygod! The window has bars on it…..maybe if I kick it really hard I can still get away.” And then he knocked again.

 

 

There’s nothing else I could do but to open the door. I opened it slowly and he was standing there, but instead of holding a knife to stab me with….he was holding a bottle of cough medicine. I stared at him.

 

 

“Hey, I was downstairs watching the TV. I can hear you from down there. You sound pretty bad.”

 

I just stared at him.

 

“I got this cough syrup. It could make you feel better.”

 

Even in my paranoia induced mind I realize something: "This fucker is goooood." Oh man, he gonna be one smooth ass lawyer.

 

So I was like “No, I’m okay. My mom gave me like a whole bag of medicine before she left. So yeah, I got it covered.”

 

“You sure? Do you need Strepsils or something? Cause I think 7/11 is still open. I can go get it for you.”

 

Oh yeah….he is goooooood.

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

So we just stood there, staring at each other. Me still dry coughing, he in all his evil mastermind glory. And I did the only thing I could. I gave him his chocolate bunny. You see, it’s Easter now and there are chocolate bunnies all over the place. About a week ago I bought 2 chocolate bunnies for him and Tanya, as a gesture of goodwill. This was before the whole not-cleaning-after-himself-fuckery. I already gave Tanya hers but because I was pissed with Chris, I decided that I am not gonna give him his bunny. I’m gonna eat it myself. Fucker won’t be getting any bunny from me. But the hell, he was standing there at 2am with cough medicine okay.

So I gave him his bunny.

 

“Oh thanks CD. Do you celebrate Easter though?”

 

“No, but you do. Enjoy your bunny. I’m gonna try go to sleep now. Nites.”

 

So I went to sleep again, not knowing whether I should be happy that I am still alive and not stabbed to death….or be wary cause my asshole housemate is an evil mastermind.

 

 

Fuck you Biawak

Australia is fucking with me. Seriously. It is fucking with me.

Remember when I wrote in passing that a fucking giant lizard appeared at my feet? Well, it happened. Again. That son of a bitch was about 3 inches away from my right foot!! And if you’re thinking “Chill, it’s just a small lizard.” No you mofos, it ain’t a small lizard. Malaysians would know this as a “biawak”. Let me just translate that for you non-Malay reading/speaking readers. “Biawak” means motherfucking hugeass lizards. Okay it does not mean that. I made that up. You’re online. Google it.

So anyways, let me re-enact that faithful day in which I almost had a near brush death experience (ie: being bitten by a biawak). I was walking to class with the Malaysian girl I’ve mentioned before hereby will be known as Mini Skirts. Cause that’s what she wears all the time. Mini skirts, then she bitches about how cold the lecture hall is- much to my amusement. Anyways I was walking to the lecture hall with her. We’re not taking the same subjects but somehow both of our classes are in the same building so we just went there together.

See, the thing bout my campus is…is that it’s in a forest. Now imagine a preserved forest if you could. Think of the beauty of Mother Nature and the importance of preserving it. Now imagine, again if you could that they cleared a huge chunk of land in the middle of it and built a university. Like a little town of its own, in the middle of the fucking forest. That’s how my campus is now. It is all sort of creepy at night. My only consolation is that they don’t have pontianaks in Australia. I’m very sure of this cause I had an in depth discussion with a friend over MSN and by the end of it we came to the conclusion that Pontianaks cannot fly that far over the sea and find me in Aussie.

God, I hope that’s true.

Anyways back to the story, right so there are trees everywhere. Bushes, low hanging branches and little pathways in between buildings. FYI, there are exactly 81 buildings on campus. Having a lecture in Building 32 and then a tutorial in Building 68 right afterwards with only 10mins gap is a wwwwhole lot of fun. I’m still in the process of perfecting my speed walking skills. In the middle of walking towards the lecture, Mini Skirts suggested that we should take a shortcut. We could walk on the fully pavement way or we could cut across the little paths with the bushes. Cause I was too lazy to walk that much I decided that yeah, this was a good idea. And then the nightmare begun.

I was walking along the path, chatting about something or other, feeling the lovely autumn breeze on my skin and the rustle of my skirt against my knees and thinking to myself “Oh my, what a lovely weather. We never get it this lovely in Malaysia” when I sensed movement at my feet. I looked down and there it was. A fucking biawak by my feet. It was like 3 inches away and I was wearing these open toes gladiator sandals. Sonofabitch!!!! It was about 3 feet long, black skin with green stripes. Green stripes!!!!!!!!!! And it was by my feet!! Dude, I didn’t think long. I screamed and I fucking ran out of there. I remember pulling up my skirt and running cause I was wearing on of those knee lengths, 50s style skirt. Mini Skirts didn’t know what was happening. She heard me screamed so she screamed too and started running. Fuck man, we covered what was supposed to be a 15mins walk in under 5 mins. By the time got to a somewhat “safe” place we were huffing and puffing and at the same time, a security guard was around. He hurried to us and he was like

“Are you girls okay? Did someone attack you? Was it the flasher?”

FYI, apparently there was a flasher round campus area. Hiding in the bushes and jumping out at random intervals to flash girls. No dude, seriously. They sent out an email to everyone’s student email. Campus Security thingie. So I was like

“No no, biawak. Big fucking biawak. By my feet.”

He stared at me. Mini Skirts eyes were bulging out “A biawak attacked us?”

“Miss, what’s a biawak?”

“Ohhhh a lizard. Big fucking lizard. Black, with green stripes. Sharp teeth. OMG, so scary.”

“Ooohhh a Goanna. That’s allright. I thought it was the flasher. Oh lizards are fairly common round these parts. They’re allright. Won’t harm you one bit. Unless you have meat on you.”

“Why was it by my feet?”

“He probably wanted to get to class too.” Then he laughed at his stupid little joke, pats me on the back and told me that it’s all allright.

Sonofabitch.

It was safe to say that I was traumatized by it all. Had nightmares that the biawak was eating my feet for 2 nights afterwards. Then over the weekend, Mini Skirts and I went to the museum. Yeah, the museum. Hey man, I have only been here for 2 weeks. I’m doing the whole tourist thing. And then there it was on the wall, a display of the same damn lizard that attacked me. Okay...maybe "attacked" is a strong word. Let's go with "ambushed". A display of a lizard that ambushed me. Much better. I found a person who works there and she actually went through some books to find some information for us. And here it is, it’s a Lace Monitor. And for your viewing pleasure this is how a lace monitor looks like:

Now tell me if you wouldn’t run screaming into the night if you saw that thing by your feet too. I mean fucking A Scott, I already have lizard issues as it is. And this mofo….according to the wiki page is venomous.

I am scarred for life now.

Babies, me and patriarchy

The chances of me having a kid are very unlikely. First of, there’s that whole tricky business of needing a partner to conceive a kid with. This part is tricky for me is cause, well....I don’t actually have a partner to conceive with now, do I? The one man I want to ahem….conceive with is happily living in the UK. With his wife. And two children. He also answers to "Clive Owen". And even though I wrote to him and made numerous prepositions in regards with me wanting to be his Kept Woman…he still won’t cheat on that damn wife of his.

So we’re back to square one. But really, it’s not like I want a baby you know. This whole baby business comes about when I receive a phone call last night from my aunt saying that my cousin have given birth to a baby girl. My parents were of course, overjoyed. They have a fascination with children that I do not share. They then made a phone call to Finland asking my sister when they should expect their own grandchild instead of “needing to share someone else’s grandchild”. My sister then says “Mom, Dad it’s 2 in the morning here. We’re trying to sleep.” Then my Dad says “Well then, now that you’re up, you should get down to business and give us that grandchild eh?” In which I found to be ridiculously disgusting that I actually puked in my mouth and then proceed to bang my head on the wall repeatedly while muttering “Make it stop God, please, make it stop.”

Seriously. Serious-fucking-ly, my parents have to stop asking my sister to….do it more often. It’s fucking disturbing okay. I cannot stress how fucking disturbing it is for me and for all parties involved, except for my parents that is, that they keep on bringing this up. I mean for God’s sake, they haven’t even been married for a year. Relax. Breathe. Go watch more ninja movies. Stop asking your firstborn to have sex okay, cause in doing so you’re giving your lastborn a coronary and possibly a psychiatrist bill that amount to the millions in the future. I am so fucking traumatized by that whole phone call episode. Why Dad, why must you do this to me?

You know, I still don’t get this babies thing. Like why? First of babies…well to put it mildly, they suck. They poop and they cry and they’re so damn high maintenance. And they also have the ability to pee in your eye. You know this one time I was with one of my other cousin who had a baby and she was like “Ohhhh isn’t my baby beautiful? Isn’t he just beautiful?” And she was lying in bed, cooing and holding her baby. She just like gave birth like 2 days ago or something. So I looked at this beautiful baby and all I could think of was, “Dude…why is he so wrinkly? That’s not beautiful. That kid look like a wrinkly old man. A wrinkly midget old man.” But my cousin was looking at me expectantly so I went “Yes yes, soooooooo beautiful. Most beautiful child I have ever seen.”

Blatant, outright lie.


You know what else I don’t get? People seem to think its funny and endearing when babies fart. Like this kid would be lying there and rip out a big one and everybody would laugh and cheer. Dude, wtf? Seriously. That fucking fart smells like it comes from the depths of hell in which Satan is roasting sinners on a fucking barbeque and y’all are cheering and laughing? Am I the only one smelling this? Am I the only one overcome by the pungent, putrid odour as you people laugh and cheer? I bet if I was the one that rip out that fart y’all be calling me names and telling me how disgusting I am. Fucking double standard I tell you.


Then there’s that whole nasty business of pooping. Poops are not funny. In no way whatsoever should poop should ever be viewed as funny. I dunno if you baby lovers out there notice, but babies’ poo are like the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. They really, literally come out of nowhere. Like you be holding a kid, and suddenly you feel this warm, gooey sensation. “Oh pray tell what is that? Oh wow looks like I have some nasty baby shit on my new silk skirt. Oh happy happy joy joy.” Not.

Also, new parents have a thing of making people hold their kid. I dunno why, but somehow they just do. If there is an addition to the family, sooner or later I know somehow I am gonna end up holding that kid whether or not I like it or want too.


“Here CD, hold my kid.”
“No thank you, I rather not.”

*insert insulted face of said parent*

“Well…..it’s not that I don’t want too. God knows I want too. Your child is just sooooo adorable but the thing is, I am terribly clumsy. What if I drop…it?”
“Oh I bet you won’t.”
“What if I do?”
“I know you won’t. Plus the baby would want you to hold him. You have big boobs you know. Babies like that. Makes them feel safe.”


Seriously, was that boobs part really fucking necessary? Really? But I think that’s why most parents want me to hold their kids. I think babies do uuh…..really like boobs you know. Mine particularly. I hold this kid once and that kid was all comfortable holding on to me. He had one tiny hand on my left boob and his head in between, when I tried to give him back to his dad he started crying and then I had to hold him back for an hour. In that one hour time he managed to squeeze my boob and made the valley in between his own special place. True story.





Also on a completely unrelated note, I have a question: Why do the children take after their father’s name? Why is my last name following my father’s name? Why? Fathers have sex with mothers, contributed one sperm and then that’s it. But for 9 months mothers are the ones who carry the child in her womb, she is the one who goes through sickness, she is the one getting irritating baby kicks from within her, she is the one that has to deal with radical hormonal and physical changes, she is the one that might lose her life giving birth to a child and yet…and yet that child would take after the father’s name…In any culture, the child’s last name is always from the father’s. Why? Does this seem fair to you? Also a child would always belong to the mothers, you always know your mothers but you dad…well depends on whom your mom had sex with around the time you were conceived right? How would one know if she didn’t messed around during that time?

I know that came out of nowhere. I realise that we live in a world ruled by patriarchy but really….I think that’s one of the reasons why I don’t like babies nor have any inclinations to have one. If I were the one to carry around a child in my womb, if I were the one that have to suffer through the pain, if I was the one who had to risk my life to give birth to child and in turn have a saggy vagina after that…why should I give all the credit to my husband when all he did was that he donated one sperm to me? How is this fair to me? How is this fair to all womankind?

Babies; beautiful, magical, the symbol of love and all that jazz but to me…they are just these little people who grabbed my boobs, poop on me and the ultimate evidence of everlasting patriarchy in the world. Women get all the pain but yet men take all the glory.



Now...think about that for a while the next time you look at a baby, whether you are a man or a woman.

That car was a ninja and it totally did ambushed me.....

I was involved in an accident last week. A vehicular accident. Actually "accident" is such a big word. It was more like....there was this car. And I uhhhh..kinda.....hit it. The worst part of it was that the car was stationary. How fucking sad is that? I drove into a stationary car and calling it a vehicular accident? Really, honestly. It is not my fucking fault okay. That car was a bitch.





It was around 8ish in the morning and I was leaving for class. I parked my car round the corner from my house on this abandon piece of land. That land can fit up to 3 cars and since we live near that spot, it is very convenient for me to park my car there. There was this other car that always park behind my car. Not exactly behind my car but damn near that whenever he parked his car behind mine, it is damn difficult to just reverse out. In fact I have to do that annoying go forward, reverse a bit, turn a bit, and then repeat 3 times before I can get out of the spot. Bastard.





So that morning I was more than a little bit preoccupied. I have Spanish quiz at 10am and basically my head was filled with Spanish verbs and future/past tenses. I barely acknowledged that car as I walked past it. I got in my car, put the gear into reverse, looked into the rear view mirror, smiled smugly at my perfectly groomed eyebrows, backed the car out and BANG!! All my smugness and my Spanish verbs went out of the window.





I remember screaming "Where the fuck did that car come from?!!" I got out of my car and there was this huge motherfucking dent at the backdoor of the car. Thankfully mine was all okay except for some paint transfer.








The first thought that came to my mind was "Oh fuck."


The second was "Oh fuck."


The third was "Run bitch! Run while you can!"








But alas by the time I could do anything my mom was already out the house. She looked at the car then she looked me standing there between my car and the victimized car then she looked at me straight in the eyes...... I mean fuck this happened near my house okay. If it happened like I dunno somewhere else, like 3897 meters away from my house I can just tell my mom "OMG Mom, it is soooo totally not my fault. Like I was driving according to the speed limit -being the law abiding citizen I am- then all of a sudden this raccoon jumped out of nowhere. I swear to God, a raccoon! On Federal Highway. I think it was nesting on one of the billboard...and I think it was rabid too....but it jumped on my car. It landed on my windshield and I screamed. I was so shocked that I lost control of my car but at the same time there was this parked car by the roadside...yes Mom a parked car on Federal Highway, I'm not making this up and I hit into that car. But don't worry that car is only dented. And I managed to deliver that raccoon to the nearest vet for psychiatrist evaluation. Poor baby. So you see Mom, it is totally not my fault. It's the raccoon's but we shouldn't blame it seeing that it's insane....." But of course I can't say that. Shit son...she saw the whole thing.





"And you expect me to let you drive my car?"


Wow, sarcasm is not appreciated at moments of life and death like this, okay Mom?





"How did you managed to drive into this car? It wasn't moving."


"It wasn't my fault! I did not see it there!"


"Constant Drama* (insert full name), it is a car. A car. A huge car. It is not a toy car....Do we need to get new prescription for your glasses?"


"The sarcasm is really not appreciated at times like this. This stupid car should not be parking so near to me. It's not my fault........."


*dirty looks* "Constant Drama, you backed your car into a parked car. As in the car is not moving. Nooooottt moooooooving. How is that not your fault?"





I learned at a young age that upon fucking up big time, one must keep one's mouth shut so that's what I did.





"You have a quiz today? Go to class. I'll deal with this. And your father will know about this too."





Fuck.





I'm telling you, I was on the verge of dying of a heart attack that whole day in college. All I could think was how my Dad was gonna kick my ass. Figuratively speaking of course. Wah, it was damn scary. It was like being an inmate on death row. Then I decided that instead of running away from my problems, I should confront it....so I called my Dad. I was all matured and shit.








"Dad.... I wanna talk to you about what happened this morning."


"I'm busy. We talk about it when I come home."


Then he hung up. On me. His last born!! I'm telling you...the inmates on death row got it easy compared to me. When he got home, we did have a talk about it. Actually....it was more of him yelling and me keeping quite and trying to shrink into a corner. However this is impossible seeing that my fat ass cannot fit into any corners.



"Ayah...Adik serious tak nampak kereta tu kat situ."

*Dad, I seriously did not saw that car there.



"Oh kau kena ambush lah ni? Apa keter tu macam ninja? Ambush ko dari belakang?"

*Oh so you were ambushed? Was that car a ninja? Did it ambush you from the back?


No, seriously. He said "ninja". I swear, one day when my parents are not at home I am gonna fake a burglary in my house. Disarm the alarm system, brake the windows, thrashed the whole place to make it look like a burglary and the only thing be missing is his damn ninja movies collection. Especially the Akira Kurosawa samurai movies. And if the cops asked how come the burglars didn't steal the plasma TV or the laptop or whatever I'm gonna say...."Well perhaps the burglars were ninjas and they don't want mere mortals, such as my father, to learn their secret ways." In any event, his ninja movies collection have got to go.


And then there were more yelling, numerous versions of his monologue of "money don't grow on trees" and then "you been driving for 3 years now, you should know better"- maybe 4 versions of that ending with my Dad taking away my car keys. That's right. He took my car keys.






Oh my heart! My heart cannot take it!


With that I conclude this story on a sad note. Friends, comrades, bitches: I will not be able to hang out with you guys cause my Dad is PMSing and took away my car keys therefore I ain't got no wheels. I can hang out with you if the place in which you want to hang out is within walking distance from my house. Like the mamak round the corner. Or if you are able to drop me off at the train station so I can get home. If this is not possible then you have to deal with the fact that I cannot grace your life with my presence. I know....I know what a bleak and sad existence your life would be, to be without me....I know it is going to be difficult for you. But you have to be strong okay? Be strong.



Ahem.



I ain't got no wheels and it sucks donkey balls.

This is not over you filthy Pizza Hut bastards!!!

Dude, I totally threw a bitch fit at Pizza Hut just now. Well not really a bitch fit....more like a righteous tirade. A really pissed off and loud righteous tirade. Which by the way……. totally scared the crap out of Farid.








Okay let me run this scene by you and see if you don't get pissed off too. You are with your good friend having a late lunch at Pizza Hut, which by the way you have indignantly championed from all your friends saying that Pizza Hut's pizza totally taste much better then Domino's. Okay so you are sitting there, munching on your second piece of personal pan pizza, discussing current events, resident college bitches and the perpetual never ending topic: the size of your ass when all of a sudden - a fucking cockroach appeared from the underside of the table, crawled all over the table near your plate that contained your damn food and then disappeared to the underside of the table again. Here's a multi choice answer:





a) Scream, push your chair back and then fall on your ass.


b) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief but do nothing.


c) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief, make your guy friend capture it by using a tissue, and then make a waiter call the manager so that you can give the manager a piece of your mind.








I picked option C.








Unlike most of the female population, the Constantly Dramatic One is not afraid of cockroaches. I am however, is shit scared of cicak. Cicaks are fucking creepy okay. But I do know that cockroaches are filthy and they bring on diseases. And I just ate from a table that as it turns out, the oh-so-accommodating pit stop of a cockroach. Holy Mother of all that is Pure and True, if I could have open a can of whoop ass on someone right there and then, I totally would. The manager came to me with an attitude. She was all gangsta when she looked at me and asked "Yes?".......Bitch, you do not throw fuel to the fire. Bad move bitch, bad move.








"I just found a cockroach on the table here. Where I am eating. A cockroach! What kind of establishment are you running here when people come here to eat and you serve cockroaches along with the food?"





"Ohhh we just had pest control last Friday.............."








"It doesn’t matter whether or not you had pest control last Friday or yesterday or the month before this. That is a non-issue. What is an issue here is that while I am eating here I found a cockroach crawling around next to my plate. *Lipas tau tak? Lipas. Atas meja.* Do you expect me to sit here and eat your food still?"

*A cockroach you know? A cockroach. On the table.








"Oh we always have a cockroach problem. *But sekarang dah less dah.....*"
*But now it have lessen....*







"Oh is that supposed to make me feel better? Is the fact that last time you had more cockroaches attacking your customers and now you only have one is a victory? Am I supposed to rejoice at that? Seriously, what kind of show are you running here? *Ini kat depan dah ada lipas. Kalau I pergi to your kitchen, what will I find there? Perkampungan lipas dan tikus?* Is that the cleanliness level of your establishment? Eh when I come here I expect a certain level of professionalism and cleanliness. **Kalau I nak makan kat tempat kotor-kotor I pergi makan kat mamak tepi jalan tu. Kereta lalu-lalu, berhabuk sana sini tapi tak per.** Cause that's how much I pay for it. Here I come and I pay your service tax and all that and this is the bullshit I have to deal with?"

*If you have cockroaches at the front of your restaurant, then what do you have in your kitchen? A mini city for cockroaches and rats?*

**If I want to eat at a dirty place, I go to a mamak by the roadside. The food will be all dusty but it's okay because that is what expected of mamak and that is how much I pay for it.**

By this time she looked like she was on the verge of crying. I feel kinda bad but no matter how bad I felt it doesn’t change the fact there was a disease carrying cockroach near my food. Shit son, what if I have rabies now?








"What happens now if I get sick from eating your food? If my friend gets sick? Who is going to foot the bill for our medical fees? You? Your pest control people?"








She just kept quite. On hindsight, what else can she do? I wasn’t screaming but I spoke loudly. I made sure that the whole restaurant can hear the fact that there was a cockroach on my table. Near my fucking food. I am still so pissed off.








"So what are you going to do now?"








"Well what do you want?"








"I do not want to pay for any of these, I will not pay for my food and neither will my friend. When we came in we expected to eat pizza, not some cockroach infested tasty treat. Also do you have a business card? I want your business card if not you write out your name and give it to me. If you think you can serve people food in this kind of place where cockroaches live happily ever after then you are wrong. I am going to report about this. This is not over."








"Miss, building ni memang ada banyak lipas."
*Miss, this building is infested with cockroaches.*







"That's not an issue. *I pergi makan kat Subway like 3 doors away and takder pun lipas. I pergi minum kat Starbucks, takde pun lipas. I pergi makan kat Ali Maju, mamak tau mamak, takder pun I kena attack dengan lipas. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. Ni tempat makan, bukan printers suratkhabar.*"
*I didn't find any cockroaches when I go to eat at Subway which is 3 doors down from here. I don't see any cockroaches when I have a drink in Starbucks. When I go to Ali Maju, which is a mamak establishment, I don't get attacked by cockroaches. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. This is a restaurant, not a printers.*







I wanted to go on and on but Farid was staring at me from across the table looking on the verge of crapping his pants. (No dude, you did.) So I just stood up and left. I think if stayed longer I would have cut a bitch. Seriously. Fucker!!! What if I have rabies now? Do cockroaches carry rabies? Fuck. What do they carry? I should Google this up. What if Farid and I are infected with it? Whatever it is that they are carrying? What if the disease is spread by saliva? Like rabies? What if everyone we kiss and share a drink with is infected? And those people will infect other people and other people and other people...... In like a week or less there could be an outbreak of cockroach-something disease all over KL!! In a month- the world!








It'll be like the fucking Mad Cow disease all over again. But it'll be worst cause when this story hit the news, the news anchors are going to go "The original deadly disease carriers have been traced and that trail goes back to Malaysia. We have been notified that the original carriers were Farid.A and the Constantly Dramatic One, who ate at a cockroach infested Pizza Hut establishment. Sad to say however that these two individuals who were the original carriers of this deadly disease are already deceased."








WTF?!! I don’t want to be remembered as a plague-carrying-originator. This is not fair!! When I die, people should remember me as the object of Clive Owen's desire. They should remember me for my ass the size of galaxy. They should remember me for my superior bitching skillz. But most of all they should remember me for the ossumness that I am. Not as the cause of a plague bitches!








This is bullshit.








I will lodge a complaint at the Consumer Rights and Health Ministry or whatever. I need to find where exactly I can complain at. And when I do, I will cc. that to The Star, Utusan Melayu and all other newspapers. Take that you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! Take that. If I am going down as the original carrier of a plague-later-to-be-named then I am taking you down with me you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! I am not going down without a fight.








......Damn, I totally need to go to the family GP tomorrow. I need to check if I have rabies. Or whatever it is that will make me go down in medical books as the cause of a plague that wipe out a shitload of people.


Damn Pizza Hut bastards.