festivities, and cold shivers down the spine

I never knew there was such a thing as blogosphere SWF. Single White Female. I'm sure some of you are going, 'what on earth is a Single White Female?' Well, the term comes from a psychological thriller of the same name, starring Bridget Fonda. Watch it, and you will never say 'imitation is the best form of flattery' again. Yeah, well back to my revelation. After being alerted about the possible existence of a blog mimic and being quite skeptical, I hooked onto the link and gasp! A carbon copy of the original blog (not mine), from the same layout to the exact tags/ categories to the near identical style of writing. A doppelganger, no less. Now that's something you don't just bump into on any given day. I would say freaky, but that'd be too flippant. What's even more disturbing is that I've met the acquaintance of this blogfax. All I can say is see no evil, read no evil.

It's Raya tomorrow, and I'm quite disappointed that no sturdy plans have presented themselves to me. Fraser's is now off, thanks to, get this, broken telephone lines. Somethings never cease to amaze me. Even more so considering it involves the Development Board of the former colonial hill station. Broken bloody telephone lines, hrrmmpphhh. Plan B hasn't been conceived; I'm hesitant to use 'yet'. I think it'll be a total waste of time spending five days in KL doing nothing. And there won't be much to do anyways. And it's plain silly for me to drive outstation alone. Really.

Speaking of travelling, there are certain 'comforting' sights and structures that soothes my nerves when driving around, lost and clueless with nightfall well into its zenith. Imagine you're driving along a poorly lit trunk road (they're always poorly lit, mind you), growing more and more doubtful by the minute that you took the correct turn. The hotel you're looking for is nowhere in sight; neither is the huge landmark that says you're on the correct path. I must reiterate, this isn't some Hitchcock thriller, all in black and white. These things really happen. How many of us have sufficient testosterone to just park the car by the side of the road, and see out the night, preferably while in Sandman land? What's that? I can't hear you. Thought as much.

So what brings comfort in these dark moments? What makes you feel at ease, knowing there is civilisation up ahead. Well, in no particular order:

7-Eleven: I believe any place without a 7E isn't up to modern civilisation standards. The 24 hour convenience shop offers more than Slurpees and Maggi Cup Noodles; it offers the chance to converse with another fellow human being. And to stock up on Red Bull Less Sugar.

24 hour Petrol Station: Safety. There's nothing more uplifting after driving clueless for hours than a brightly lit, well maintained Petronas or Shell station. The opportunity to relieve one's self, besides topping up the tank. And chances are, if they're operational around the clock, the volume of traffic is quite steady. Note that this occurrence is highly unlikely, considering most kiosks along trunk roads still use the ancient analog pumps.

Mamak/ restaurant: Hallelujah. Teh tarik kurang manis, and nasi goreng tambah pedas. A vibrant mamak or a well-populated restaurant brings hope that you won't end up pontianak or babalung fodder. A warm meal emanates a comforting glow from within your stomach, while allowing you to listen to incessant banter other than that of a radio DJ. Should be noted that a heavy meal at these sanctuaries might send you on a desperate search for a toilet some two hours later, or turn your eyelids to lead.

Mosque/ church/ temple: Divine help. I was once lost (literally, that is) up in Fraser's, along, get this, Jalan Ampang. After what seemed an eternity (that's 20 minutes, real time), a white dog appeared and led us stragglers (we started out as adventurers) to a temple, before promptly lifting his leg nonchalantly, all in a day's work. Now that's what I call 'help from above.' Of course, it could have just been the dog using the same route as us. But you had to have been there to fully appreciate this moment.

I'm pretty damn sure there are several other places that are equally as reassuring. Hospitals can go either way, as do police stations and creepy standalone hotels and resthouses. To be avoided at all costs - cemeteries, abandoned houses, kampungs, rivers, forests of any kind, plantations of any crop, junctions and sleepy hollows. And most definitely avoid post-midnight visits to washrooms in highway rest stops. Malam Boleh Jalan* will take on a whole new dimension.

Have a pleasant Raya and enjoy the holidays.

(*Night can go)

that's the way love went

I reckon PD is one of those places where you need good travelling company, much like Fraser's or Pangkor. There isn't much to do in what was formerly Malaysia's most visited beach. The sands have long turned a dirty brown, the water a murky grey. Swimming in the PD waters is really a lottery to some; I won't be surprised if prolonged exposure to the seawater there, heavily laced with toxins, causes genetic mutations or hormonal imbalances. I recall, painfully, many years back when I was sitting on what seemed like the cleanest patch of beach sand and enjoying the sights and sights. I remember gently scratching my back, and then really getting into it. It was the longest itch, lasting close to a month. Some of my amigos were worse off; one guy had what seemed like smallpox on his back for almost three months. Apparently the perpetrators were sand mites, something most of us have never heard off, let alone experienced.

But anyways, I spend too much time indulging in nostalgia. After K-Fat did a number on us, we decided to go regardless. We booked PD Marina Resort, and it was bloody cheap. RM 100 for a two-bedroom apartment. What a steal! Until we approached the resort. We felt robbed all of a sudden. Run down, dirty and unkempt; we kept hoping we were mistaken about the place and that the actual place was located along the road. No such luck. I drove past, and kept driving. We decided to check out other options; true to proceedings ten years ago. Enter Ancasa Suites. A decent enough place. Ok, decent is a bit unfair, it was pleasant. It had the expensive look to it, and the ambience was more than satisfactory. I let the two heroes do the talking; they managed to sweet talk the girl at the reception into giving us weekday, off peak rates. The unit was most impressive; the room-keeping less so. Slow and constrained within the box. But complain I shall not, for the view more than made up for the service. The Straits lay open, with it's deceptively emerald appearance dazzling in the sun. Nothing like taking in the view, with a cigarette and whiskey in hand. At 1 in the afternoon.

The rest of the day pretty much went according to plan. Food at the pasar malam was bloody cheap. We pigged out, unashamedly. I felt the cholesterol levels skyrocket as I dipped the yummy lemang into the rendang, before shoving it into my mouth. The satay was meaty, the putu piring sweet, while the kuey teow sucked big time. All washed down with Jim and ale. Supper, which occurred after the Merseyside derby, comprised ayam percik and more lemang. Stuffed piglets, that's how we felt like. The next day, we heroically tried to burn off all the calories by walking up to the Tanjung Tuan lighthouse. I personally died about 15 times before we crawled up to the cliff, drank the view and headed down. But the scenery was amazing, and I'm not one for ooh-ing and aah-ing over panoramic phenomena. Spending only 5 minutes at the lighthouse still makes me wonder if it was worth the 30 minute walk up, through the forest reserve. It was. Will I do it again? No, thank you.

I must say, it was quite an enjoyable trip. Slow and relaxing, without any concrete plans. We were next to the beach, we had a swimming pool in the apartment premises, yet the only time we got wet was when we sweated bucket loads trekking. We didn't come home hungover; which allowed us to ronda-ronda more, I guess. We definitely have to address the lack of female participants, something which hopefully will not repeat during the next 'adventure'.

Hopefully.

fuel pumps; petrol not included

Define irony.

Price of petrol drops, the fuel pump in my car does a number.

In hindsight, it's a good thing I didn't fill 'er up on Wednesday; the petrol tank will have to be drained completely in order to replace the fuel pump. I don't know which was more deflating, knowing I'd have to spend around RM 100++ to remedy the situation, or spending close to four bloody hours in the MidValley carpark, with its sauna-like atmospheric air, mixed with the sweet smells of exhaust fumes and burning rubber. I contemplated taking a mechanic's course, at least ten times last night. Things definitely didn't take a turn for the better, when the mechanic suggested the petrol tank was empty. I was indignant initially, I'd like to think of myself as above those hare-brained drivers who have no inkling of their car's petrol content. I knew the fuel needle was just about above the 'E'; I pointed that out rather defensively to the chap, though he did retort by saying that I could have been running on petrol fumes. Embarrassing moment, number 326. Half an hour later, I felt fully vindicated when the car still didn't start after being filled with RM 10 worth of government-subsidised petrol. To cut a long story relatively shorter, the car is being nursed in the workshop, I've been car-less for the past 6 hours or so, and bound to be less wealthy. Ah well, seven years of fine service, the occasional hiccup is understandable. Good thing this happened before PD and Raya. That would have been a major bummer.

Speaking of which, I'm hoping and praying (and hoping again) that the roads down south will be clear tomorrow. There's nothing more pissing off than a two hour crawl in what's usually a one hour leisure drive. Stupid Malaysian Drivers is an oft-repeated verbal documentary in most social circles; rumour has it that the sequel, Brainless Malaysian Drivers, is making its way to the nearest mamak near you. One can almost taste the desperation in Priscilla Patrick's hoarse voice as she implores (to the point of begging) drivers to continue on their way instead of closely observing two stalled cars on the emergency lane...on the opposite side of the road. Personally I can attest to this irritating Malaysian trait. I pulled up to the side of Federal Highway to take something from my booth. As it happened, an acquaintance passed me by and stopped in front of my car. We got to chatting; the location left a bit to be desired. Lo and behold, a crawl developed after less than five minutes into our conversation. We were both amazed at this blatant display of stupidity. Amazing, I tell you. So we acted out a charade of arguing with one another and inspecting each other's car. We received propositions from no less than four tow-truckers, all of whom weren't too pleased that our cars were in perfect running condition. But yeah, Malaysian drivers.

Here's a slight rib tickler: How many Malaysian politicians can you trust? Just one, but that's because he's dead.

Well, I thought it's funny. So there.

Pinhole-glasses

A couple of days back, I was doing my usual tour of 'duty' in one of the local eateries, more commonly known as mamak, when someone brought up the topic of pinhole glasses. Now for those of you in the dark, pinhole glasses work on the same principle as pinhole cameras. The opaque plastic lens contains pinhole-sized perforations that allow only the narrowest rays of light to enter the eye. I did some further research on the matter, and stumbled upon a website that provides all the information one requires when contemplating pinhole-glasses.

What I like about www.pinhole-glasses-direct.com is its easy-to-understand description of pinhole glasses and their capabilities. It doesn't exactly gloss over the benefits and unique selling points of the product, unlike certain other 'informative' websites I've come across. It has a science textbook feel to it, with pages dedicated to the science underlying pinhole glasses and how they work. The pages on common eye defects make for some pretty good reading, with several important facts given prominence throughout the text. I was especially interested in the 'pinhole-glasses vs eye-glasses' page.

While the site does espouse a pretty strong case for pinhole-glasses, I'm not to convinced that pinhole-eyeglasses are sound alternatives to conventional eyeglasses. In fact, while this revolutionary product is said to improve vision and rectify defects, I haven't read any medical reports or findings that suggest pinhole-eyeglasses as remedies for patients with eye problems. However, on saying that, personally I'm convinced that the glasses do aid in preventing effects caused by constant exposure to monitors and screens. The 'testimonials' page is bountiful with satisfied customers, though I'd be more persuaded by recommendations by ophthalmologists and opticians.

And for those interested in purchasing a pair or two, the site offers attractive promotional prices and discounts to make it worth your while. So if you feel the urge to check out pinhole-glasses, look no further, and head on down to www.pinhole-glasses-direct.com

run, Forrest, run

There's something so rotten about how this country is being governed that it isn't funny anymore. Get this, a noted bigot posts accusatory remarks about a certain individual on a blog reeking of racism. The innocent individual is detained unlawfully, then released after a week when the esteemed crime busters in this country deem that there isn't any evidence to charge the individual. Meanwhile, the bigot is totally absolved of any wrongdoing. Yep, he's neither questioned by the cops, nor officially condemned for his seditious declarations. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Malaysia today. A politician proudly spews out racist remarks and is celebrated by some quarters for speaking the 'truth'. The reporter who exposes his malicious remarks is thrown into detention for, drum roll please, 'reporting racist remarks made by so-and-so'.

Okay, stop hitting your head against the wall. No amount of scalp scratching, head banging or Wikipedia-ing will reveal the slightest bit of logic within the course of events. Yep, brought to you by the same people who 'produced' an interesting play called The Race Relations Act. Go watch it; the acting is wooden, the plot shallow, but it has its moments of comedy. In fact, all it has is its comical nature. A definite shoe-in for the Raspberries.

Alrighty, enough of scum bashing. Had a somewhat refreshing conversation with some jokers a couple of days back on the best destinations for migration. Yes, I know any topic starting with 'Best Destinations' does sound straight out of Forbes or NYT, but it was more than just idle chatter about which place we'd like chill at, definitely. Based on current trends, Australia seems the most plausible of destinations. Geographically near, it has a huge Asian immigrant population, especially in the bigger cities. Was reading an article some time back about how S'poreans are buying property in Perth greedily; many are expected to head there in droves in the near future. New Zealand would be a more sedate option, though peace and quiet are valuable commodities.

Of course, for many, the big daddy of migratory destinations (does such a term even exist?) is UK. I can name a dozen things that make migration there virtually impossible (emphasis is on 'virtually'); though this is tempered by the fact that the UK government seems eager-like to shower PRs and British passports on Nigerians and Somalis. It doesn't help that Malaysians have somewhat of a poor standing in the eyes of UK Immigration, what with the selfish pricks who overstay and work illegally in take-away restaurants or as cockle gatherers. The US, till today, remains the Land of Opportunity. Getting in is more difficult than getting a bus ticket to Penang on the eve of Raya; I'm rather pleased with the analogy, if I may say so myself.

Personally, I've always been more inclined towards continental Europe and Indochina. Germany is a given; I'd also settle for Spain or Denmark or Switzerland. I wouldn't mind Croatia or the Czech Republic either. In my myopic view, Indochina comprises Thailand, Bangkok and Phuket. A good place to migrate to, providing one has a healthy bank balance; make that a very healthy one in order to fully enjoy life with peace of mind i.e. no hassle from authorities. Ideal scenario would be to have a wad of cash, and a job which centres around a laptop and internet connection. Peachy, just peachy.

On another note, I came across an uplifting article in today's Star. Something that makes you want to believe in the good in all of us. Despite the widespread discrimination against dogs here, there exists a group of canine Samaritans who are doing their very best to help man's best friend. I have nothing but respect and admiration for these people; individuals who go beyond the call of duty to help those who can't speak and fend for themselves. If I recall correctly, Gandhi was quoted as saying "the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."

I guess that pinpoints exactly how great and morally progressive this nation is, doesn't it?

delectatio morosa

Money can't buy you love, but it improves your bargaining position - C. Marlowe

That cracked me up. Witty and cynical. And true to a certain extent. Having a nice Merc or Jag won't exactly jeopardise one's chances of getting hooked. Or fancy dinners in chi-chi places. And whatever money can't buy, Visa or Mastercard can. So yeah, money is more or less everything. At this moment, nothing can be much sweeter than seeing five figures in my banking account. See, I'm not greedy, I'm not asking for six digits. Not every month, at least. Just something in the region of 20k and I'll be doing a jig every day. Seriously.

On another page, I must admit I'm not very good at writing. When writing cock (as in talking cock), the words and sentences flow like a merry country stream, gentle and smooth. The moment someone tells me to write something in particular, or even commends me on my piece, I get all askew. The weight of expectation leads to the burden of pressure. Ok, enough of showboating. But yeah, I'm always caught between two minds when it comes to writing. Praise is good, but with praise comes expectations. Somehow I feel I'll never be able to produce a subsequent piece worthy of the original. Oh, the imbroglio...

I can see a wee tiny bit of improvement in my mass of flesh after hitting the gym thus far. I don't think it noticeable physically, but I can feel the slight looseness around my waist when I don my pants. Or it could be that my pants have expanded. The glass is half full, the glass is half full. I reckon, three times a week for the next three months and there definitely will be tangible results. Just have to break the bi-weekly cycle I'm currently on. Next week, next week, definitely. Right.

A seed has been planted in my head - writing a memoir of my misadventures during my heydays (i.e ages 17 to 30). I'm giving it serious thought, though I reckon I'll wait till I'm 37. I've already contrived a title for it: Life, 17 going on 37. I'd like to think it sounds catchy. The whole idea came about when I was busy regalling an appreciative audience with my misdemeanours during my hedonistic era. Yes, it was an era, an epoch of sorts. A coming out ball which lasted nearly five years. Food for thought, as I munch on a cardboard-tasting hi fibre low salt Jacob's cracker. Yes, definitely worth several cells from my grey matter.

I'll end this post with another satirical quote from a well known author. Up to today, I haven't an inkling why his noteworthy literature piece, The Long Day Wanes, is banned here. I do know I have it, and it's quite a read.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Snore, and you sleep alone - A. Burgess

Here's to the nadir of the working week.

the fall of empires

Amid all the hoo-hah about September 16 (or 916 as it now seems to be popularly known as), a tsunami of a different kind was crashing through the world of economics. First up, the price of crude oil dropped to US$92 per barrel. Great news for the little people; not so great for speculators and investors.

I wonder if retailers in Malaysia are keeping abreast of this latest development, especially the eateries and the mamaks. They were quick to raise prices when petrol prices went up; I wonder if those sods will reverse the trend. Highly unlikely, though. I'm sure they'll be concocting some barely-plausible excuse on why prices are being maintained. "Apa nak buat, saya punya lori guna petrol special punya." Bloody cutthroats. Which makes one smile with glee at the fate of the nasi kandar operators, who are often boycotted for the slightest unsavoury issue (politics, Hindraf, etc). They deserve it, each and every day gone by with barely a handful customers.

Then there was this shocker of an announcement: Lehman Brothers had filed for bankruptcy. And Merrill Lynch had been bought over by Bank of America. Okay, I will not profess to being an expert in economics. I'm not one of those no-lifers who switch to Bloomberg or CNBC first thing in the morning; it's Eurosport for me. When I first heard the news on CNN, I was wondering who the hell Jens Lehmann's sibling was. I had never known of his prominent 'sibling', renowned enough to receive the moniker 'Brothers'. Wikipedia put an end to my ignorance, and I was soon swallowed by this cavern of information available at the end of every blue-coloured word or phrase.

It seems the economic earthquake that was the US subprime mortgage crisis has continued to send wave after wave of destruction across major stock markets and indices. Many economists and investors had anticipated the demise of the crisis, and it's now come back with a vengeance. Well, I wouldn't say now now. It started, in my humble reckoning, with the Bear Stearns buy-out by JP Morgan Chase in May this year. The next victims were the aptly-named Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, bailed out by the US Government.

And it just got worse when Lehman Brothers and Merrill Lynch announced their capitulation under the combined onslaught of bad debts and dried up capital. AIG is at this very moment scrambling to find a White Knight to aid them in what is surely their 'darkest moment'. Analysts are predicting more standalone banks, such as Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley, to be next in the path of this tsunami of apocalyptic proportions. Wonder what all those Italian-suited, glib talking, capitalistic conniving executives are going to do, since almost 80% of them would be unemployed, if they aren't already. A spot on The Apprentice, perhaps?

I think Noel Gallagher nailed it when he said "Americans buy on credit" [sic] (when the Abu Dhabi sheikhs bought over Man City). Everything there seems to be linked to credit, mortgage, loans or borrowings. Houses, cars, college educations, health care - everything. Heck, they even bought Man Utd and Liverpool using money that wasn't theirs. It's not such a 'land of opportunity' if one is mired, shoulder-high, in credit crap, is it?

We're all plastic addicts, admittedly. But I reckon, the sooner we recognise that plastic cash and virtual money chain us to the cubicle, the better. Best bet, keep just one credit card, and only use it for emergencies (like hospitals and such). Other than that, get a nice, soft sheath for it, and keep it locked in a box. Never delude yourself into thinking, "oh, I use it to collect points for petrol, ya-dee-da." Calculate the value of your redeemed gift, compare it against the amount spent to accumulate the points, and do the math, genius.

You'll be mildly surprised.

so it's like this

I was quite surprised when I checked my blog, and realised my previous post was on the 11th. That's four days ago. Rather unusual, considering I leave posts every other day, on the average, weekends discounted. Well, it was some sort of a busy week, the week that was, and I didn't really have the time to cook up something interesting.

On saying that, the weekend was spent watching plenty of TV (again), and not much of anything else. Well, there was a freeflow I attended, which didn't really impress me. If there's one thing I dislike about beer (other than it being bitter) it's drinking beer in a plastic container. Yucks. Beer has to be with a chilled mug, no arguments. There's nothing more tummy-upsetting than watered down, warm beer in an environmentally-harming plastic cup. Couldn't really complain much though, it was somewhat of a neighbourhood cafe, not exactly located in a posh area.

Football swallowed a huge chunk of my Saturday night, while Sunday was spent lazily on the couch, soaking up as many movies as humanly possible. The Astronaut's Wife was gripping, The Untouchables was awesome, while Syaitan was plain stupefying. Why do local directors insist on using flashbacks and time distortment? More often than not, they end up confusing themselves, and more so the audience. If the opportunity arises, do watch Syaitan, and drop two cents here.

I'm getting the urge to see someone.

On another page, I've been inundated with queries on what I think will happen tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is apparently THE day. What gets to me is people who keep jabbering about 16 September without even knowing jack about politics. People who have never even registered to vote. People who chant the date like some mantra, hoping their wishes will be granted after the 1000th chant. Get a life, peoples. Seriously.

I suck at picking up girls in pubs. Like, wow. Honestly. I reckon it's time to change tactics. No, I feel compelled. On to plan B. What's plan B? Well, it's something that's not Plan A, which will make me feel better for having, since Plan A hasn't worked. I haven't worked out the finer details of Plan B, as in what it'll entail, but I've named it Plan B, so that's a great start.

Like, totally.

faces and goo

The new Facebook is really beginning to irritate the life out of me. It's bloody slow to load up, not user friendly and complicated. And what the hell is with the compartmentalisation of boxes and applications on different tabs? I liked it when it displayed all the relevant stuff on one single page. Now it's too damn messy, I feel.

Now I can't even log in. Great!

I must say, I'm thoroughly disappointed with the recent offerings by Facebook and Google. Enough said about the lousy 'new' FB. Google Chrome is nothing short of being a spartan-esque version of IE. I don't think it's gonna be as popular as Firefox, let alone compete with IE. I could be proven wrong in the near future, but I have my doubts. Whatever happened to 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'?

Either the connection for FB is really fucked up today, or it's been blocked by the administrators at office. Speaking of which, the government has ordered, ordered I tell you, the Multimedia Commission to unblock access to all sites with immediate effect. Bemusing, considering it would have been the government itself who instructed the MC to block websites deemed critical of the government. Or rather, websites spreading the truth about certain politicians. Either way, it'll be interesting to see how things pan out.

Something is definitely wrong with FB this evening. Damn!

and still they will not listen

Once again, the ugly infestation that is Malaysian Media rears its despicable head.

Once again, self-proclaimed 'journalists' and 'reporters' flock to the aid of scumbags and lowlifes, oblivious to truth, integrity and ethics.

You can only shake your head and wonder, why haven't they learnt? Why haven't they realised their mistakes and shortcomings? Why are they still willing henchmen, eternally loyal to an increasingly desperate regime?

The results of the most recent GE weren't just a slap to the ruling party's face, it was mud in the faces of the invertebrates collectively known as 'the media'. My, how they twisted tales, and spun wondrous stories, and belittled the opposition. Oh, what joy they had concocting lies and glorifying corrupt individuals and criminal parties. Yet, it was all in vain. People were, and still are, fed up of mainstream media. Untrustworthy, lack of integrity, unethical, submissive, truth benders, tale spinners - pick your choice. Within the space of several months, the internet and blogosphere comprehensively trumped the newspapers and TV channels, consigning these ever willing government stooges to 'yesterday's news'. Politics? Go online. Local news? Go online. I reckon we can safely assume, Malaysian Mainstream Media is dead and buried. RIP.

On a related note, observe the rats as they desperately try to cling on to power. Some shout, some gesture, others whimper. Funny how they're so afraid of crossovers, they're taking study trips abroad. If you can't control them, take them for a holiday. How come the media has not brought up the wastage of funds involved? How is it they (the same media) has not questioned the necessity of such action? The crude answer would be - lack of balls. I prefer to be more refined - the non-existence of testicles. Plain and simple.

And what's with this short term memory syndrome sweeping across the nation? What's with all this talk of how it'll be detrimental to the country if the opposition forms the next government through party hopping? How come suddenly, cross overs are viewed with contempt? How come not a single individual in the government or media has brought up Sabah 1994? Why is an old crone croaking hypocritically about issues he used to suppress harshly and illegally? Why are certain individuals from a particular supremacist party allowed to mouth off racist remarks without fear of punishment or repercussions?

The only way things are going to progress here is by eliminating racism and religious fundamentalism, and all related entities. Forming a government through cross overs won't have such an adverse effect on the country's prosperity; having a government run by a supremacist party will.

It already has.

i had a catchy title, but i forgot what is was

What an utterly catatonic Sunday. I spent a total of 10 and a half hours being comatose in front of the idiot box. Quite an accomplishment, I must say; considering that I even declined invitations to Sunday tea (a weekly routine that hasn't been broken for ages). The fact that I started my TV marathon at 10 in the morning really puts things in perspective, with a two hour break for a nap. Sometimes I just amaze myself, I tell you. I reckon something must be scratching at the back of my mind, hence the need for an activity-free Sunday. I just wasn't in the mood to go out, or converse or even smoke. Suprising would be a mild description.

What I've gotta do is not follow a routine. I realised on Friday that weekends are slowly but surely beginning to have a noticeable pattern to them, starting with Fun Friday and culminating in Sleep-in Sunday. Saturdays are either spent recuperating from the previous day, or pondering on where 'da party at'. And considering that drinking/ clubbing is more or less confined to Backyard and Cavell's, the need to shatter any semblance of a regiment has now become a priority, a top one at that.

On saying that, my bank account is now beginning to show symptoms of substance abuse. Or should I say, ATM abuse. I can't really pinpoint where the ringgit went, though the extensive car service over the weekend would account for a sizeable chunk of cash. Roughly, I've spent close to RM 1300 on my car alone, from engine oil to motor insurance. A necessity, by any stretch, but an incredibly costly one as well. Guess the fuel rebate should go someway in resuscitating my bank balance.

The next page: I watched Perfect Stranger last night. It wasn't too bad, to be honest. An intriguing plot, and several twists and turns were sufficient to keep me hooked. But throughout the movie, I could feel a compounding sense of irritation whenever Halle Berry appeared on screen. She just irritates me, I tell you. I can't tell, however, if it's from her mediocre acting or mere appearance. A combination of both, at the expense of being uncertain. One can't help but root for the villain to dispose of her. Well, it didn't happen in Gothika, definitely not in X-Men and disappointingly enough, not last night.

Sigh. One can hope, right?

NB: I've decided to use Arial for the month of September, keeping in line with the need to be more spontaneous.

Matthew Bartholomew Chronicles: To Kill or Cure

Satisfying.

After waiting for almost a year, picking up Susanna Gregory's 13th edition of the Matthew Bartholomew series was not disappointing. Some series have a tendency to be repetitive and utterly predictable after the third or fourth edition. Not this one. Yes, it is a whodunit, so the process and story flow is more or less similar througout, and to be expected. But the plots are devilishly ingenious whilst the characters are slowly developed over the course of the adventures.

For a while, I thought I'd be a tad bit bored of Bartholomew and co, having lain off the series since The Tarnished Chalice. But I was pleasantly mistaken; the scholars of Cambridge got a grip on me once again the moment I turned to page one. And by the end of the book, I was glad to have spent an entire evening reading and uncovering the villain. To be honest, there are several scenes that seem to drag on for no particular reason, but when the chase starts, the hunt is on. And it remains a hunt right to the end, when the heroic physician and 'big-boned' monk face their adversary in a do-or-die standoff.

So yeah, a well-spent RM 30, and a restless anticipation for book 14.

a weekender wallowing

So Merdeka has come and gone.
Unsurprisingly enough, it was neither spectacular nor grand. Quite a damper actually, the celebrations, that is. Fireworks and parades (yawn) in Dataran Merdeka (formerly known as Victory Avenue) on Saturday and Sunday, but that was it. Besides, would anyone really want to spend a humid evening, rubbing shoulders with country bumpkins, Mat Rempits and snatch thieves? Most likely not.

I was suprised, however, that celebrations were quite loud in Cavell's. A birthday party, both for the country and man. The crowd was pleasingly boisterous, which livened up a potentially boring event (the countdown). And this place seemingly gets more packed as the hours roll by. Strange one, that.

Sunday was more subdued, but interesting. A match in PJ Hilton, followed by a drink in Backyard. It was good to spend some time with a certain sibling who's flying off (yes, three of four reached the hallowed soil of Britannia). Maybe age is catching up, maybe I'm more sentimental. Sometimes I'm plagued with regret for not having fraternised more with my siblings; time is a cruel reminder of moments lost. There isn't a week that goes by when I'm not filled with sadness for not having played more with Snoop's; yet another drop in this ocean of regret. Such is life, eh?

Oh no, just when I thought I'd haul myself to gym, a pressing matter has come up. Tea at the bloody-overpriced Lotus. Why do I always do this, get sidetracked from the thrill of pumping muscles and sweating profusely? Dammit! (No, that wasn't a smirk, I tell you).