All A Girl Wants Is...

The 6 Million Dollar Babies

2008-02-21T17:21:00.007+08:00

I just heard on E! news that Jennifer Lopez and Mark Anthony's unborn babies stand to earn their parents a cool USD6 million. This is just so some publication ( I didn't quite catch which one but that's not the point) can get to feature the Anthony/Lopez twins' pictures before anyone else does.

I think there's something horribly wrong with the world when celebrities are offered money just because they have managed to procreate successfully.

Perhaps it's the fact that I'm feeling tired and irritable right now(I didn't manage to sleep well last night) or it could be that I'm in the mood to perch on my moral high horse but I was honestly disturbed and rather annoyed to hear about this latest, ridiculous, celebrity deal.

I know the photos will help sell more mags/tabloids or whatever but give me a break! That money could help save the harimau from extinction or perhaps it could help save starving children. Heck - USD 6 mil can pretty much help save anything.

It hasn't been made clear if Lopez/Anthony are planning to pocket the cash but something tells me they probably will.

I don't envy these celebrity kids. When they sit down and think about it (which they inevitably will do one day) they'll be forced grapple with the fact that their parents used them to add to already overflowing bank accounts.

To be fair though, not everyone is just plain greedy and/or devoid of principles. Angelina and Brad's baby Shiloh earned her parents USD4mil but the money was reportedly donated to African children's charities.

I hope J.Lo does something similar (although I think the best scenario would be for these filthy rich celebrities to refuse payment and just donate their own money to charity like the rest of us!)

Children deserve to be loved and protected by their parents; not exposed to the whole world for a fee. If J. Lo and Mark Anthony end up being paid for their babies' pictures and then keep the money for themselves - I'll think of them as nothing more than people who 'sell' their babies and that's nothing less than disgusting!

I'm disappointed in you, J.Lo. You lied when you told us "My Love Don't Cost a Thing" Looks like your motherly love costs about USD6million.

image from javno.com

The Lazy Bearded Lady

2008-02-11T17:38:00.000+08:00

I admit that I wasn't always open to people whose sexuality was other than the 'norm'.

This was probably because, when I was growing up in the 80s the word gay just meant happy. I didn't know then that my preference for boys put me in the 'heterosexual female' category because I had no idea that there even was a category!

We never dreamed that George Michael liked boys and wouldn't have believed it even if he had turned up at our school and told us himself (besides, we were all in love with him and the truth would have ruined countless adolescent fantasies).

In my mid-teens, I became vaguely aware, of course, that girls who liked girls and boys who liked boys did exist but any discussion about this always took place in hushed tones around class. It had a certain air of mystery and foreboding which meant that my friends and I spent a substantial amount of time speculating exactly what homosexuality, the male or female kind, entailed. I mean, how did they do it? Wasn't it, well, weird?

Fortunately, my small-town thinking has expanded over the years and these days I don't bat an eyelash about people and their sexuality - much less judge them. It IS a free world; people must be allowed to be who they are and everyone has the right to be happy about themselves. Besides, the world would be a far less colourful place if people like the Queer Eye Guys or Ellen Degeneres were forced to remain behind closed (closet) doors.

I've been rather proud of how far I'd come in terms of my outlook on homo, bi and whatever other types of sexuality there exists out there - that is, until today.

It seems that my mind isn't that open after all! I happened to catch a clip of the 2008 Ford Supermodel of the World competition. I really don't know what to say about the host.

I'd never heard of Andre J before today and frankly, I wish I had remained blissfully in the dark! Presenting the (hopefully!) one and only Andre J:

I have no idea what Mr/Miss J is trying to do. I don't even know if this look is related to his sexuality or just appalling taste! Could he be one of those straight guys who like wearing women's clothes - a cross-dresser? Honestly, though, his appearance more than raised my eyebrows. I'm a little ashamed to say that I found it rather a challenge to look right at him and what-is-with-the-beard??!!! I think he's aiming for memorable but he's missed that and gone straight (no pun intended!) into frightful. It was all really weird and uncomfortable.

Despite my misgivings, I think Andre must be doing something right because he was featured on the cover of French Vogue (no less!) - beard and all (you can't see it clearly but trust me, it's there - I zoomed in!)

This either means that I'm hopelessly close-minded or French Vogue is running out of ideas. I rather hope it's the latter! After all, one has to draw the line somewhere.

If you're going to do something different, you gotta do it right! Look at Ru Paul, (s)he was the face of MAC for a while there and with good reason:

I'm all for men who take the trouble with the hair, makeup, boobs and countless other details to get the look right. If you want to be a woman that badly then more power to you, girlfriend!

In comparison, Andre J just comes across as a man, who wants to be a woman - a woman who's just too lazy to shave, that is!

Once upon a time, the only 'Bearded Ladies' were the ones who had facial hair and used to (cruelly) be cast as a "freak" attraction in those awful Freakshow circus/fairs of yesteryear along with the poor Elephant man, the people who had hunched backs and anyone else who was unfortunate enough to have any kind of physical abnormality/deformity about them.

I think we've all come a long way since then but Andre J is successfully bringing back bad thoughts of Freakshows that are best left buried. There's a big difference between being different and having no taste. So, for goodness sake, someone do us all a big favour and hand Andre a Gillette!

image from viewimage.com, theimagist.com, seacoastconnects.com

The addiction

2008-01-27T14:13:00.001+08:00

Everyone loves it - from grandmothers to hip young things, from schoolteachers to fashion designers. Anyone is in danger of falling prey to its perilous lure and addicts will tell you that once begun, its hold on you is nearly impossible to shake off.

It's not alcohol, drugs or gambling that I'm talking about but the often overlooked but highly addictive pastime we all love to indulge in - gossip. One of the irresistible attractions of gossip is that it’s forbidden - which only makes us love it more!

At some level, we all know gossiping is a bad idea. The information that gets passed around is usually only half true - at best. Often, it's not true at all.

What’s worse is that gossip, the really juicy kind, is NEVER positive. Let’s face it nobody wants to know how Ali overcame incredible odds to own his own business or how Rani put herself through law school while holding down three jobs. We’re all far more interested in discussing why so and so is such an insufferable snob or how someone else drinks cocktails before noon. People seem to have an instinctive need to ferret out 'dirt' about their friends and neighbours.

I think it’s because, even though we know it’s dangerous, gossiping is SUCH a delightful mode of passing the time! I admit that I often let my mouth run off before my mind can catch up and this appalling habit has led to broken friendships and broken hearts.

Everyone knows what goes around comes around and when it comes to talking about someone behind his/her back, what you said has a nasty way of getting back to the person you're talking about. It's instant karma - you don't have to wait for your next life before you face the consequences of your actions but this never used to stop me! I tried to assuage the guilt I felt by telling myself that others were just as guilty gossiping about me as I was of them - which was true.

I hardly ever heard someone say something like "hey we were all talking about how much you deserved the promotion you got, good for you!" I've been around for more than 3 decades now and that has never happened to me. I usually got wind of something down the lines of "eh, do you know Rani thinks you have thunder thighs?" or "Su Chin told me you're really childish"

Which means that Rani, Su Chin and all the rest had taken precious time out of their lives to discuss my shortcomings. How typical!

But deep down I knew that just because other people talked about me, it didn’t give me a ticket to talk about them. As my mother used to say “are you going to jump off a bridge just because other people decide to do it ?” If I’m honest, I have to admit that I was just scrambling for an excuse because I loved discussing other people's lives and analyzing their actions.

Despite my checkered past, I must say that I've been pretty good recently and resisted the gossip trap for a good, long while. The people I hang out with these days are - no joke- astonishingly impervious to the evil lure of gossip!

However, a couple of weeks ago, I was in a situation that put my newfound gossip-free self to the test. A friend was busy discussing the flaws of another person whom I happen to like and the more she talked, the more I felt the familiar pull to 'unearth' more information and join in with my own negative input. I think I must be getting old (and wise!) because for the first time, I managed to catch myself before I opened my big mouth. I remained silent and let my friend get her grievances off her chest.

Like an alcoholic fresh from an Alcoholics Anonymous stint, I felt like I had personally tussled with the devil and won! I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the little gossip-monger inside me has been silenced...so far, so good!

During my gossip-mongering days, I used to wonder what people talked about if they weren't talking about other people. It turns out that you can talk about plenty of stuff like the US Presidential Race, how to bake a chocolate cake or even the way the wind blows.

I’m here to say that it's definitely not as appealing as discussing someone's scandalous behaviour at the pub last Friday or speculating if so and so's husband is having an affair but resisting gossip will give you a great reputation as a trusted friend.

Like a healthy diet, a get-together without gossip can seem bland and boring but like a healthy diet a life free of gossip is good for you and will eventually make you feel good about yourself. Trust me.

The short end of the (ugly) stick

2008-01-21T14:26:00.000+08:00

Everybody knows that in a man's world, a woman's place is, at best, a close second. This is why we have the feminist movement and various other movements advocating equal rights for women. Have you ever heard of a 'masculinist movement' advocating equal rights for the male of the species? They don't exist for a reason!

My point is, glass ceilings and lower pay for the same work are not the only glaring points in the battle for equality. I think the most obvious injustice is something that stares us right in the face and that is - the face. By this, I mean beauty - the superficial kind.

Have you ever wondered why there are far more couples made up of an ugly (for want of a better word) man with a beer gut and a beautiful woman with a rocking bod rather than the other way around? If you haven't noticed, pay attention the next time you walk down the street and you'll see what I mean.

There are, of course, couples who are equally good looking or ugly depending on how you perceive it but I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the ones who are vastly separated by the Great Divide in the Looks Department and I believe if that is the case, the woman is almost always better looking than the man.

In the early 90s when Roseanne was a hit show, her co-star, John Goodman, was reportedly featured in Playgirl because he was considered sexy. J-o-h-n G-o-o-d-m-a-n. If you don't know who I'm talking about here he is:

If everything were equal then Roseanne should have had a spread in Playboy but I think Hugh Hefner would sooner date just one woman at a time than allow Roseanne anywhere near Playboy!

Calling people ugly sounds cruel so I feel compelled to explain. I'm not referring to what an individual was blessed with when they were born…I'm talking about the effort that's put into appearing attractive. It's not what you have it's what you DO with what you have.

After all, - we women live in a world that not only values but rewards beauty so I don't see why men aren't subjected to the same rules. Women tweeze, pluck, wax, shave, botox, manicure, file, perm, straighten, mask, remove, glue on, polish, trim, diet, exercise and scrub ourselves into oblivion just to look presentable. Men tend to wake up in the morning, s**t, shower, shave and they're ready to go. What's worse is that the world in general finds this cosmic discrepancy between the sexes acceptable.

So, the pretty, primped girls end up getting the short end of the (ugly) stick because they're trailing around a man who looks like he's been hit with one.

Why is this so? Is it because of that popular theory (no doubt spread by a man) that men are superficial creatures and are therefore helpless souls who are slaves to their genetic attraction to outer beauty?

Anyone who is familiar with the Indian matchmaking process would tell you that a man who is darker than the bottom of a charcoal bin will inevitably demand that his family find him a bride who is whiter than bleached snow (hence the immense popularity of Fair and Lovely among Indian girls).

Let me make it abundantly clear that I do NOT in any way think that a dark complexion is ugly and a pale one beautiful but the truth of the matter is that many other people in the world do. This means that, once again, men insist on and get what they believe to be the better-looking option.

Women are said to be compassionate and deep-thinking creatures which means that we take the time and the trouble to get to know the man hidden beneath the pimply face and big belly. Well, all that is well and good but I've never understood why the pretty women don't just hold out for a man who is nice and also fairly easy on the eye. I'm not talking about someone who like Johnny Depp with a heart likeMother Theresa's but I'm talking about a nice guy who doesn't look like John Goodman's obese cousin.

Another prevailing argument is that women are basically gold-diggers and settle for someone who looks like a hyena's rear end because his pockets are deep and overflowing with the all powerful $$.

I don't buy this as a generic truth. Not all women are gold-diggers and not all gold-diggers are women. I think the ladies are just selling themselves short by tolerating unattractive men who are too lazy to lose their beer guts and apply pimple cream. Men almost never sell themselves short and the ones who do are exceptions that prove the rule.

Since we're always going on about equality between the sexes, let's take it all the way. Let's not put up with dirty fingernails, beer bellies and unkempt hair. Men certainly don't tolerate oily hair, pimply faces and big guts - well, not in women anyway!

All this might sound superficial but it's more significant than it seems. It would do us good to emulate what men seem to do effortlessly - hold ourselves in high esteem. Then we'll find that we're surrounded by what we truly want and deserve in our lives!

images courtesy of wikimedia.org and funnyphotos.net.au

Fighting the Flu

2008-01-11T18:03:00.000+08:00

I cannot believe how annoying this stupid flu is! I've been fighting off this weird strain of what must only be an especially stubborn African flu virus (I dare not think of it being any other kind of virus *shudder*!)

I remember feeling slightly ill just before new year and it's the 11th today and I'm still feeling slightly ill.

The good news is, I get to lie around and feel sorry for myself with little to no guilt. The bad news is, I was all set to start the New Year with a fabulous diet so that I could unveil my fabulous new self the next time I was back in KL. Well...that's gone to pot now!

I have no appetite but have been forcing myself to eat just so I can get the medicine down. I tried sticking to low calorie foods ( drinking just fruit juices and that sort of thing) but soon discovered that it didn't seem to perk me up at all and only made me feel weak.

So, yesterday, I forced down this burger which I really didn't want to eat. It was some chicken thing with some kind of avocado sauce (I tried to take a stab at being healthy there) but it was AWFUL.

Quick question: what's worse than a zero nutrition/high calorie food?
Answer: A zero nutrition/high calorie food that you don't really want to eat!

In other words, I'm eating all this stuff and not even enjoying it! Sigh...I think I'm going to crawl under the blanket now....

The Eternal Struggle

2008-01-04T19:31:00.000+08:00

The Eternal Struggle for me is not the struggle for liberation or truth and it doesn't have anything to do with finding myself and freeing my soul. Don't get me wrong.... I, like most thinking human beings, struggle with all these questions.

But my personal Eternal Struggle has been plaguing me for far longer. I didn't seriously contemplate questions like "who am I" and "the meaning of life" until I was in my 20s but my Eternal Struggle is something I've been grappling with since I was 12!

It is my war against my sweet tooth!

Ever since I was aware of myself as a girl (which happened when I was about 12), I've been conscious of my weight (sadly!) and I've always known that the one thing that truly stood between ordinary me and spectacularly svelte me is my darned sweet tooth!

I just can't seem to get rid of my sugar craving. Who needs drugs when there are perfectly legal sugar highs all around in the form of chocolate cakes, doughnuts, eclairs and other evil goodies?

I thought I finally wrestled the beast into submission last November when I became DETERMINED to lose 5kg and actually managed to get rid of 2.5kg. Through pure abstinence and power of will, I avoided the sweets for 4 whole weeks. A new record!

Unfortunately, I made the huge mistake of believing that since it was Christmas time and New Year, why not indulge in a few chocolates and a couple of brownies? The Engineer didn't help at all. One of his Christmas gifts to me was a large, beautiful tin of McVitie's chocolate covered biscuits, fittingly called Temptations...notice the tail and horns above the "O", I swear its the devil in the form of biscuits!

I took one look at the tin and thought, "what the heck, after all, 'tis the season to be jolly and all that." I'd forgotten the vital unwritten rule that the word jolly is usually preceded by the words "fat and...."

Just think about Santa! At lease being fat and jolly is part of his job description. What's my excuse? Whoever heard of a fat and jolly writer?

I just checked the scale on New Year's Day and discovered, to my horror, that I was back where I started. Holiday Hottie has transformed intoNew Year Fatty!

I need to lose 5kg all over again....I suppose I should just accept that it never ends!

Happy New Year!

2007-12-29T15:13:00.000+08:00

I cannot believe that it's resolution time again! I just calculated how old I'm going to be in 2008 and I've decided that I've finally reached the age that I'm going to be for the rest of my life. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not getting any older - ever - no siree!

It just seems overwhelming and a little frightening how quickly time moves. I remember back when I was a child when an evening out in the sun seemed to last for hours when it was really only between four and six o'clock.

Now... I look at the clock and it's ten in the morning. I blink and it's 3pm! Years are screeching by at top speed!

I've often felt that New Year's resolutions are a waste of time and an activity in futility since you're only setting yourself up for failure. Everyone knows that gyms are always SO FULL in January and gradually dwindle down to the hardcore fitness freaks by March. So why make resolutions?

This time, I've had a slight change of heart and decided that there's going to be one major resolution for 2008. Since I'm older (sob!) and wiser (yay!) I think I'll keep it short and meaningful.

The following is part of a message that was sent to me by a dear friend. It's called Let It Go by T.D Jakes. I don't know who T.D Jakes is but he certainly captured my wish and resolution for 2008.

There are people who can walk away from you.
And hear me when I tell you this!
When people can walk away from you: let them walk.

I don't want you to try to talk another person into staying with you,
loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you,
staying attached to you.
I mean hang up the phone.

When people can walk away from you let them walk.
Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.

People leave you because they are not joined to you.
And if they are not joined to you,
you can't make them stay.
Let them go.

And it doesn't mean that they are a bad person,
it just means that their part in the story is over.
And you've got to know when people's
part in your story is over so that you
don't keep trying to raise the dead.

You've got to know when it's dead.
You've got to know when it's over.
Let me tell you something.
I've got the gift of good-bye.
It's the tenth spiritual gift,
I believe in good-bye.

It's not that I'm hateful, it's that I'm faithful,
and I know whatever God means for me to have
He'll give it to me.
And if it takes too much sweat I don't need it.
Stop begging people to stay.
Let them go!!

If you are holding on to something
that doesn't belong to you and was never intended for your life,
then you need to ..LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to past hurts and pains ...
LET IT GO!!!

If someone can't treat you right, love you back, and see your worth...
LET IT GO!!!

If someone has angered you .....
LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to some thoughts of evil and revenge ..
LET IT GO!!!

If you are involved in a wrong relationship or addiction ..
LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to a job that no longer meets your needs or
talents ..
LET IT GO!!!

If you have a bad attitude...
LET IT GO!!!

If you keep judging others to make yourself feel better...
LET IT GO!!!

If you're stuck in the past and God is trying to take you to a new
level in Him...
LET IT GO!!!

If you are struggling with the healing of a broken relationship.....
LET IT GO!!!

If you keep trying to help someone who won't even try to help
themselves..
LET IT GO!!!

If you're feeling depressed and stressed ....
LET IT GO!!!

If there is a particular situation that you are so used to handling
yourself and God is saying "take your hands off of it," then you need to...
LET IT GO!!!

Let the past be the past.
Forget the former things.
GOD is doing a new thing for 2008 !!!
LET IT GO!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! Here's wishing all of you the Brightest, Most Beautiful year and all things shiny and hopeful.

Love,
Trisha

Eye of cicak and Leg of kodok

2007-12-19T16:26:00.000+08:00

It's almost Christmas but a Dear Friend of mine seems to have missed Santa's Little Helper and run into Satan's Little Helper instead...

Dear Friend recently moved into a rented house with two friends. She's known these two for quite some time. The 3 got along famously so there shouldn't be any problems living under the same roof, right? Wrong! It took just a few weeks for Dear Friend to realize that she'd made the mistake of signing a deal ( in this case the lease to a house) with Satan's Little Helper!

One of the housemates (i.e Satan's Little Helper) has two dogs (the itty-bitty Paris Hilton-ey kind from what I gather) and keeps them locked up in his room all day, every day! He's hardly ever at home (his job keeps him out of the house for hours at a time and sometimes into the wee hours of the morning)

This is just plain cruelty toward animals. The dogs whine and cry in SLH's room whenever Dear Friend is at home and her heart breaks everytime she hears them. Because of their strange living conditions neither one of the dogs use the potty properly and wee all over the place whenever they're allowed out of their prison cell aka SLH's bedroom.

So, not only has Dear Friend got to listen to the poor dogs crying, she's got to put up with dog wee inside the house as well - phew! SLH, meanwhile, seems to have no problems with the whole situation and was very flippant (and annoyed) when Dear Friend talked to him about the sorry scenario.

She's really at her wit's end and my heart goes out to her. She thought about alerting the SPCA but we all know what happens to dogs/cats who aren't adopted within a short period - they're put down. I don't know which is worse - giving the two dogs a slim chance at the SPCA or keeping them alive but unhappy with SLH?

Some choices just aren't easy.

This made me think about how little we really know the people we think we know. SLH seemed like a decent sort to Dear Friend until she shared living space with him. Now she just wants to strangle him.

If a friendship can so easily go to the dogs (no pun intended) what chance do marriages have? At least Dear Friend has an option of moving out of the house. No messy divorce, no division of assets, no lawyer's fees. Marriages aren't that easy to escape from.

I used to think that people who advocated living together before tying the knot were spewing rubbish but now I'm beginning to wonder...maybe they had it right all along?

Who knows? Your partner may seem so together and wonderful out in public or when they're alone with you for relatively short periods of time. Meanwhile, unbeknown to you, a cauldron with eye of cicak (lizard) and leg of kodok(toad) could be smoldering in their bedroom, ready to dish out to unsuspecting victims. If you're really unlucky - you could be unknowingly ingesting some yourself!

Pyschos, black-magic practitioner's and assorted other wackos have an inexplicable talent for appearing perfectly normal in public. You'll only find out that they might be Satan's Little Helper when it's too late. Unfortunately, there are times when tying the knot really is akin to tying a noose around your neck!

If you really can't bring yourself to live together with your intended before you make it legal (personally, I couldn't!), may I suggest that you take a long (at least a week) holiday alone with this person? After all, even Satan's Little Helper would find it difficult to hide their evil ways for an extended period of time!

So beware boys and girls... your chunk of hunk or delicious doll may not be all that they seem...don't say I didn't warn you!

satan courtesy of buyhorrormovies.com

The Vaguely Vulgar Girls

2007-12-06T14:07:00.000+08:00

If there's anything I dislike it's women who are unnecessarily 'touchy-feely' with your boyfriend/husband.

There are two important categories when it comes to social interactions and platonic relationships between the sexes : Nice and Decent or Vaguely Vulgar. Vaguely Vulgar Girls are just over the invisible line that separates the two.

VVGs play their cards just right. They slip a hand around a man's waist for no apparent reason and leave it there for just a moment too long. They make a perfectly innocent comment but lean really close to his ear to say it. They lay a hand on his shoulder as they throw their heads back and laugh hysterically at his (probably bad) jokes. Some of the more brazen hussies will make like a Roman toga and drape themselves all over the man ....

The trickiest part of all this is that these annoying little performances take place right in front of the man's partner. The wife/girlfriend is left with little choice but to watch and fume inwardly. What's a woman to do? If she kicked up a fuss to her man, she'd come across as a pathetic, insecure, jealous female. Worse still if she confronted the VVG. With practiced fluidity the VVG would inform her that it's all innocent and in the name of friendship.

In all this the man in question will - predictably - do little if anything to throw the VVG off his personal space. Let's face it, which man is going distance himself from a woman who seems to be 'harmlessly' flirting? After all, any chance he gets to inflate that overly sensitive and quick-to-deflate ego of his is a chance he's not going to pass up.

After a decade of arguments and ulcers, I've recently realized that VVGs come and go like the breeze. There's ALWAYS going to be a woman somewhere who is so full of self-doubt that she'll flirt with every man within a 5km radius. She's not going to bother her insecure self with little details like whether the man is attached or not.

This type of blase attitude among VVGs used to throw me in a fit but it has dawned upon me that while VVGs can make you want to scream with aggravation, they're rarely vindictive or vicious. Their annoying little performances generally don't go any further.

The women to really watch out for are the ones who seem to have wings sprouting out of their backs and a halo over their heads. These types know what they are capable of behind the scenes and take extra precaution to appear holier-than-thou in public.

That's why I've concluded that VVGs are the lesser of two evils. So, everytime you're confronted with a one in your vicinity (I do this too) just calmly repeat to yourself: "VVGs aren't vicious, VVGs aren't vicious" Then, as the night ends, make sure you catch her eye, give her a (smug) smile, hold hands with the man she's been flirting with all night and casually stroll away.

pics courtesy of askmen.com and hadrians.com

I Don't Love Small Cities!

2007-12-04T18:29:00.000+08:00

I can't believe I'm back in The Land Of No Aldo. I had SUCH a fantastic time in South Africa - Cape Town and Johannesburg.

Cape Town is unbelievably beautiful. It was all mountains and ocean and came complete with all those snooty types lounging about on the 'better' beaches. Many looked like they had been plastic surgeon-ed to within an inch of their lives but it made great people-watching material (you could spend your time sipping your wine and playing 'spot the person with the most plastic' all evening)

Johannesburg was a different affair. It's an enormous, impersonal city but I'm a city girl and I can handle it. Even the traffic jams didn't seem so terrible because all the roads were fully tar-ed! Imagine that!

Like icing on a cake the weather was cool, cool, cool! In fact, Jo'berg was rather cold and it rained a lot of the time but I didn't care. I was 10 minutes away from a mall - it any direction. Woo hoo!

Yes, it was glorious to be back in civilization for a while. It was so good that I had to hold back tears when I left (plus The Engineer and I met up with two of our really, really good South African friends and I have no idea when we'll see them again).I wished really hard (eyes tightly shut) that we would somehow, magically, be able to extend the trip for another week.

Wishing isn't going to make it happen so here I am again back in Tanzania. Hot, shimmering sun, dusty roads and no malls to speak of.... and I'll have to go back to brainwashing myself that The Land of no Aldo is something that I can live with....sigh!

I Love Big Cities!

2007-11-21T22:57:00.000+08:00

I'm off to South Africa for a holiday - woo hoo! I can't wait to get back to civilization after the , mall-free, fluctuating-electricity zone that is Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.

Frankly, I can stomach all of that but what REALLY gets me is that this country does not feature Aldo shoes! Horrors!

I can't wait to drive down a real highway, walk around aimlessly in a real mall and take 24-hour electricity for granted!

What can I say? I Love Big Cities (this is why I'm obsessed with New York)

Ciao dahlings...c ya later *blows kisses*

To be (a housewife) or not to be...

2007-11-18T13:34:00.000+08:00

I've started working part-time, recently (this is why I've been a bit silent on this blog for a while). I'd forgotten how stressful it can be to coordinate with someone else's schedule and deal with the aggravating, ever-present office politics.

I found myself wistfully thinking of my days spent taking care of the home and then it suddenly dawned upon me.....I was essentially a housewife for the past year. A housewife... me! I was the type of woman who used to cringe at the very word!

Sure, I kind of worked from home, doing some writing but I had no job to go to everyday. This made me a woman who stayed at home while her husband went to work which made me a housewife.

This might seem like an obvious truth but it never really registered on my psyche. When it finally did, I had an epiphany: I enjoy staying at home... I actually liked being a housewife and I think more women should try it on for size!

My suggestion might raise a feminist eyebrow or two but what can I say? I stand by it.

I'm not trying to persuade anybody to stay at home and shun work just because they're born female, I'm only saying that women shouldn't automatically spurn a life spent at home (especially if you can financially afford to) and those who enjoy being housewives should be allowed to proudly stand by their preference.

As a rule, feminist types proclaim that they're all about choices which means they support a woman's choice to do anything she wishes i.e stay at home, work, work from home or whatever.

But I've often felt that this is just talk. Even the word housewife sounds frumpy; conjuring up images of a woman in an apron, her hair disheveled and her nails chipped. In reality, women who work tend to feel an eensy, weensy bit superior over women who stay at home. I know because I was like that when I went to work. I often thought: does a housewife really work?

I mean, how hard can it be to take care of a couple of kids, cook some fried rice for dinner and do the laundry, right? Goodness knows, you don't require a degree for that kind of thing whilst if you worked as an engineer, as I once did, you'd certainly not be allowed into the office without valid qualification.

So, I'm ashamed to say this but I often thought the stay-at-home women had it easy and were making a big deal out of their 'work' when they claimed that they had it tough as housewives.

Boy, was I wrong. I've since discovered that it actually IS easy to stay at home.....but only if you're lying on your back all day, eating out and allowing the laundry and 30 layers of dust to collect all over the house.

Like all other jobs, if you're serious about doing good, there is a lot of work involved in keeping a sparkling, beautiful home, your family well-fed and clothed on clean, nutritious meals and well-pressed clothes You'll also have to come up with menus for the week, do the grocery shopping, ensure that nothing runs out (like detergent or toilet paper). If you have kids, you've got to make sure that their school work is done and that school projects and supplies are taken care of and readily available.

Don't get me wrong, if you're working, you'll be saddled with all this as well as your job but the difference is that the woman who doesn't work can spend a good deal of time and effort on each task. It's not about rushing around just to get things done.

The housewife's job becomes a hundred times more difficult when she's trying to achieve it on a tight budget (which is often the case because the family is running on one income) I'm now referring to the average family and not the Datin-types who have nothing but time and money on their hands. To be honest, even the Datins probably face challenges running their large homes. When you have housekeepers and other staff around the house, you'd have to manage your staff to make sure that everything is done up to your standards.

The best thing about staying at home is that you're working all day to enhance the lives of people you love. You're not slogging away in some insipid cubicle under unflattering fluorescent lights for some multi-national company that, frankly, couldn't care less and probably wouldn't notice, if you lived or died.

At work, you get paid but at home you're rewarded: a happy, healthy family and you'll have TIME to spend with them......and really is there anything better than spending time with the ones you love?

You'll never have to miss your baby's first step and you're always on hand when your teenager needs to talk. You'll have a better chance of keeping the marital/relationship flames fired up because you're not working all hours, trying to get that promotion.

So to all those housewives out there who maintain lovely homes and take good care of their families I say stand up and own it, girlfriends..you should be proud! Besides, these days, housewives get to look like this...!

images courtesy of: momadvice.com and buddytv.com

The Other Woman

2007-11-05T15:20:00.000+08:00

My good friend recently discovered that her brother has been cheating on his wife for the past 2 months. The first thing that came to my mind was "not again!"

This made me think but not about the brother.In my opinion men are not from Mars they're from another galaxy altogether so why even bother trying to decipher their alien thoughts? The affair made me think about The Other Woman. She is a woman after all so maybe I'd have better luck trying to figure her out but I eventually gave up. It's really difficult for me to understand why women wish to throw their lives away waiting for someone who is already committed to someone else.

I just don't get why these women never seem to grasp that men NEVER leave their wives for The Other Woman. I have never seen (or even heard of) this happen in my life and neither have I ever heard or seen this happen in the combined life experiences of all the people I know.

Does this mean that I have accurate, detailed, statistical proof that the Other Woman never EVER gets the man? No, of course not. It only means that the chances of turning another woman's hubby into your honey is slim..minuscule.....next to none. It also means that any intelligent, self-respecting woman would never allow herself to become The Other Woman and even if she happens to find herself in that God-forsaken situation, she's smart enough to realize that she'd better not expect a wedding ring on her finger - ever.

The girl who allows herself to be the fall-back for any man is not just eluding herself...she's pretty darn pathetic. I'm not being harsh - I'm being realistic.

We women only need to look at men to learn how not waste time waiting for 'the love of your life'. After all, how often does a man sit around twiddling his thumbs while his woman squeezes in a few hours with him before she goes home to her husband? In my mind, there are only two instances when this scenario might occur:

1. The man is being paid by the hour (i.e he's some sort of escort)
2. The woman is Heidi Klum

On second thought, I take back no. 2. I can't imagine, any man (not even the balding, beer-gut types) wasting their life away knowingly sharing their woman with another man - even if she is Heidi Klum.

This is where I get REALLY confused - don't these Other Women feel a little "eeeek" when they think of their men going home and sharing a bed with their lawfully wedded wives? Isn't that just a little bit, well, gross? It has certainly stopped me from even entertaining the idea of turning into The Other Woman.

I bet the cheating husbands assure their mistresses that they no longer find their wives attractive or that they haven't done it in years and that's why they're so unhappy with their wives or that they only do it as a physical act with no feelings involved and blah, blah, blah and blah. Hellow! Wake up and then get out of bed with the adulterer, ladies!

Everything out of a cheating husband's mouth is a lie and The Other Woman has more proof than any other because she knows that he's lying to his wife - about her! If he lies to his wife, a woman he has made so many promises to, what is to stop him from lying the lowly lady-in-waiting?

There are many reasons that a woman might find herself falling for a another woman's husband (which is forgivable) but the problem is that they act on those feelings (which is not). How is this man going to ever respect a woman who is willing to stand on the sidelines and watch him while he's off frolicking with his family, telling her that he needs time to get rid of his wife because of the children, the shared assets the sheer complication of it all and all the other weary excuses that may as well be coming out of his a*se.

Once, a friend of mine, who had recently discovered her husband's despicable, adulterous ways told me that she felt even more betrayed by The Other Woman than her husband. "Why would one sister do this to another?" she asked me. I had no answer.

Men tend to stand together and back each other up even when they don't really like their "brother" but we women, far from doing the same, often tend to play "each gal for herself" when it comes to careers, friendships and most often - men. If you ask around, you'll notice that men generally avoid fooling around with their buddies' girls at all costs. Friendships come first. It should be the same for us but sadly isn't. If you really look in your heart, how many of your girlfriends do you truly trust to spend time alone with your husband/boyfriend. Not, many right? How sad.

The truth is, after all our equal rights sisters have done for us, we are yet to reach equal standing with men who often say my "brother" comes first. You'll notice the 'cheating rate' in serious relationships sharply decline the moment we girls tell ourselves that we would never put another woman through what we ourselves know to be the worst kind of heartache - finding out that the one you love has betrayed you in every possible way.

....unfortunately,we're all still waiting for this to happen....

Facebook: Friend or Foe?

2007-10-30T14:47:00.000+08:00

I have never been able to look at this and resist:

For the most part, I think Facebook is fabulous. I see it as a lazy man’s/woman’s device for keeping in touch. It’s a wonderfully welcome alternative to that other old-fashioned mode of communication - the one that’s So-Last-Century – the dull, one-dimensional email (despite being a writer, I abhor writing emails).

I can never find the time to send regular emails to everyone mainly because I can never bring myself to send out those awful “group emails” that some people seem to think is an acceptable form of communication. It’s SO impersonal (especially if it’s from someone you consider as a close friend). One step lower are forwarded jokes and at the very bottom of the bin are ‘chain’ mails. Imagine not hearing from someone for a while and then receiving one of those ridiculous mails that insist you’re going to grow a third nipple if you don’t forward the mail this-very-second to 5 more people! I’ve refrained from indulging in any of these but unfortunately, this also means that I hardly ever email anybody.

In fact, I’m one of the worst correspondents I know and if they were handing out grades for Keeping in Touch, I’d get an E or gagal altogether! Only Trixie has miraculously been spared my notorious habit of not sending regular email. This is only because of her inexorable and tireless efforts of sending me email after email after email until I finally caved and began to reply regularly!

Most of my other friends, whom I love and miss, have to tolerate my long and complete silences between my visits to Malaysia. Thankfully, these are my true friends – that’s why they still stick around (there have been others who have completely dropped of my radar and I can’t say I blame them).

This is where Facebook is a lifesaver. The best thing about it is that you don’t have to write a thesis every time you think of someone or miss them. Instead, you can just ‘poke’ them, add flowers and gnomes in their garden and try to get them virtually drunk by sending them dangerous sounding booze like El Chupacabra and Screaming Viking. This is a very welcome change from those long emails people used to expect from friends who live far away (let’s face it, the Jane Austen days are long gone – who has the time to write long mails, ‘e’ or otherwise, to everyone they know, anyway?)

Another plus point is that you get to ferret out long-lost friends (or vice versa) and ‘trout slap’ them or ask them burning questions like “boy shorts or thongs?” without coming across as a total loser.

Unfortunately, like all great inventions, there are some drawbacks to Facebook. Firstly, it has got to be the most addictive thing invented since alcohol. I wouldn’t be surprised if Facebook Fanatic Rehab Centres don’t start sprouting up soon. I’ve spent hours and hours sitting at my computer, looking at friends’ profiles (it has a delicious voyeur feel to it) or answering stupid trivia questions like what speed did the DeLorean, that Michael J Fox drove, have to reach before it took him “Back to the Future”. Absolutely ridiculous! Still, it’s harder to pry my fingers off the keyboard than it is to pry me away from the latest Aldos .I sit down at 9am and then get the shock of my life when I notice my computer clock : 2pm!!! Horrors!

I also wish someone would come up with Facetiquette – an accepted set of rules on dealing with the unwanted side effects of being a Face-bookie

For instance – what the hell do you do when someone you don’t really like attempts to add you as a friend? Do you do the hypocritical thing which is to accept and then proceed to ignore them or do you just ignore them from the start and wait for the invitation to expire ( I think it does in 30 days) hoping they’ll get the hint once and for all. That might seem a tad childish and petty plus you might keep coming across them again and again in other people’s profiles. How awkward!

I’m also very curious to know what to do about some people’s profile pictures. There’s this one guy – he’s a friend of a friend – whose profile picture looks like an image of Early Man in National Geographic – absolutely hideous. It does him no justice and the worst thing of all is, he asks the question: what do you think of my profile picture? Do I tell or do I not tell?

Finally, there are those strange people who suddenly send out a message like Hi! I wan be ur friend. Next to this message will be a picture of someone you’ve never seen in your life and don’t really want to see either!

All in all I think Facebook has kind of complicated my life but like all junkies – I just can’t-say-no!!!

image courtesy of www.dailymail.co.uk

The "Pig" and the "Comb-Over"

2007-10-22T17:17:00.000+08:00

I know I watch too much E! and not enough CNN/BBC so I tuned in to CNN this morning hoping to absorb some knowledge about Seriously Important World Events (it would be nice to think about the state of world economics or finance for a change and not the state of Britney Spears underwear situation - panties-no panties,panties-no panties)

Unfortunately, my attempt at avoiding entertainment news totally failed when I happened to be just in time to catch Larry King Live. It would have been fine if Larry had Barrack Obama or Hilary Clinton as a guest but guess who Larry was interviewing today? None other than the very outspoken and in-your-face Donald (as in Trump) sporting, as always, his even more in-your-face hairdo(n't).

I stayed tuned hoping that The Donald might still assuage my sudden and inexplicable thirst for Seriously Important World Events by spewing worthy information about - say- the rise and fall of the real estate market and how it affects the American economy ( I seem to be obsessed today with economy or some reason).

I presume he'd been invited to appear on Larry's show to promote his new book Think Big and Kick Ass in Business and Life but there seemed to be very little talk about the book. Instead he sat there, with his unfortunate hairdo, going on about...celebrities! Despite myself, I was intrigued. The Donald isn't known for being shy and today, he outdid himself.

He proceeded to describe Angelina Jolie as not very beautiful, George Clooney as not very tall and Rosie O'Donnell as a pig (its harsh but Rosie isn't exactly svelte).

I looked it up and apparently there was a huge feud with Rosie last year and the two have been verbally sparring ever since.... much like how kids in a kindergarten argue over who should get the larger biscuit at break time.

They degenerated into calling each other names with Rosie calling Donald a pimp and a 'comb-over' and Donald calling Rosie a slob and a mental-midget ( I must say if this were a contest on meanness, Donald's insults are much better than Rosie's - not to mention more entertaining!)

I can't imagine why grown men and women would stoop to this level. Maybe its just publicity or maybe they're really crass people who happen to have fame and money. Either way, its all highly amusing!

I immediately turned to the E! channel after Donald's interview with Larry ended. Who gives a @#$$ about world economics when you can entertain yourself with a battle between a pig and a comb-over!

pic courtesy of www.golfblogger.co.uk and poxline.buzznet.com

Stupid Rapper Names

2007-10-16T21:33:00.001+08:00

Ooops! I just realized that I'd accidentally published this post without the pics so here it is again, with pics and paragraph indentations included this time : )

Has no one else noticed that rappers have the most stupid names - ever? How are we, the general public, supposed to take people like Ludacris seriously when his name can be instantly linked to the word ludicrous which is what he must be to have a name like that! (he certainly looks the part in this pic)

Next on my hit list is 50 cent (it just occurred to me that Rappers, of all people, know all about making hits and getting hit!).

The man must have no sense of self-worth. He could have, at the very least, called himself 500cent or 5000cent but nooooo… he had to go cheap. Now, according to the E! channel, he's known only as Fiddy which is just as well.

While we're on the subject of stupid rapper names, I can't possibly leave out Nelly. For one thing, Nelly is, as far as I know, a woman's name. For another thing, this particular Nelly looks more like a Felly (that's my original rapper-slang for felon). I don't care how good his music is, he really shouldn't be allowed to get away with making people call him that.

But if Nelly is bad, Snoop Dogg is even worse! Previously known as Snoop Doggy Dogg, he apparently changed his name to Snoop Dogg when he left Death Row Records (there's another absurd name for you!) to No Limit Records*. His mum used to call him Snoopy when he was little because of his love for the comic, Peanuts. This is all very sweet until you take a look at the adult Snoop Dogg...Doggy or whatever.

This tall, emaciated rake of a man, doesn't look anything like Charlie's Brown's Snoopy. Instead, he looks like he's just smoked something that you can't buy at 7-11. Here's proof (only someone high on something is going to go out in public looking like this!):

There's really no end to the Stupid Rapper Name List. Snoop Dogg not only forced us to accept his own silly name but he's responsible for spawning Lil' Bow Wow who has now renamed himself Bow Wow (does he think that he's going to gain any more respect for dropping the Lil' when his name is essentially the sound dogs make when they bark?).

There are others who deserve special mention. There's Diddy who was previously Puff Daddy, Puffy, P.Diddy and countless other equally absurd variations of a basically stupid name. I think Ice Cube wants himself to be associated with ice because it's cool. Listen, man - Vanilla Ice tried it years before….it didn't work then, it's not going to work now. The lesser-known Coolio also probably thinks he's linking himself to the word 'cool' in people's minds but sadly, you hear Coolio you think coolie - laborers hired for minimum wage.

Besides having asinine names, not many of these rapper types have much in the looks department. More than half of the really famous ones look like they're either stoned, drunk or both (see above). The rest look like they've escaped from a nearby penitentiary and I always expect to see the police come and grab them by the collar in the middle of one of their concerts (this might actually happen - a large number of these gangstas have police records or seen the inside of a prison).

I suppose everyone forgives their lousy names and even lousier looks because of their talent but I personally think the music industry is in need of a serious revamp when people like Da Brat and Yukmouth (l didn't make these up) are allowed to flourish.

Fascinating fact: I was looking up rapper names on Google when I came across www.rapstarname.com . It generates a rapper name for you. Apparently, I'm supposed to be Kandle Valentine if I ever went down the rap route (not too bad - at least it wasn't Da Gangsta Gurl or Talant-lass!).

*info gleaned from Wikipedia

image of nelly courtesy of www.nndb.com, snoop - pursepage.com, 50 - nymag.com, ludacris - daveyd.com

Stupid Rapper Names

2007-10-16T21:33:00.000+08:00

Has no one else noticed that rappers have the most stupid names - ever? How are we, the general public, supposed to take people like Ludacris seriously when his name can be instantly linked to the word ludicrous which is what he must be to have a name like that! (he certainly looks the part in this pic)
Next on my hit list is 50 cent (it just occurred to me that Rappers, of all people, are familiar with more than one kind of hit !). The man must have no sense of self-worth. He could have, at the very least, called himself 500cent or 5000cent but nooooo… he had to go cheap. Now, according to the E! channel, he's known only as Fiddy which is just as well.
While we're on the subject of stupid rapper names, I can't possibly leave out Nelly. For one thing, Nelly is, as far as I know, a woman's name. For another thing, this particular Nelly looks more like a Felly (that's my original rapper-slang for felon). I don't care how good his music is, he really shouldn't be allowed to get away with making people call him that.
But if Nelly is bad, Snoop Dogg is even worse! Previously known as Snoop Doggy Dogg, he apparently changed his name to Snoop Dogg when he left Death Row Records (there's another absurd name for you!) to No Limit Records*. His mum used to call him Snoopy when he was little because of his love for the comic, Peanuts. This is all very sweet until you take a look at the adult Snoop Dogg...Doggy or whatever.
This tall, emaciated rake of a man, doesn't look anything like Charlie's Brown's Snoopy. Instead, he looks like he's just smoked something that you can't buy at 7-11.Only the real Snoopy can get away with a name like that and that's because he's a cartoon dog!
There's really no end to the Stupid Rapper Name List. Snoop Dogg not only forced us to accept his own silly name but he's responsible for spawning Lil' Bow Wow who has now renamed himself Bow Wow (does he think that he's going to gain any more respect for dropping the Lil' when his name is essentially the sound dogs make when they bark?).
There are others who deserve special mention. There's Diddy who was previously Puff Daddy, Puffy, P.Diddy and countless other equally absurd variations of a basically stupid name. I think Ice Cube wants himself to be associated with ice because it's cool. Listen, man - Vanilla Ice tried it years before….it didn't work then, it's not going to work now. The lesser-known Coolio also probably thinks he's linking himself to the word 'cool' in people's minds but sadly, you hear Coolio you think coolie - laborers hired for minimum wage.
Besides having asinine names, not many of these rapper types have much in the looks department. More than half of the really famous ones look like they're either stoned, drunk or both. The rest look like they've escaped from a nearby penitentiary and I always expect to see the police come and grab them by the collar in the middle of one of their concerts (this might actually happen - a large number of these gangstas have police records or seen the inside of a prison)
I suppose everyone forgives their lousy names and even lousier looks because of their talent but I personally think the music industry is in need of a serious revamp when people like Da Brat and Yukmouth (l didn't make these up) are allowed to flourish.
Fascinating fact: I was looking up rapper names on Google when I came across www.rapstarname.com . It generates a rapper name for you. Apparently, I'm supposed to be Kandle Valentine if I ever became a rap star (not too bad - at least it wasn't Da Gangsta Gurl/Talant-lass)

Malaysian Star

2007-10-11T13:47:00.000+08:00

One Malaysian Muslim will be completing his Ramadhan and celebrating Raya in outer space! Right this minute, our very own astronaut, Sheikh Muszaphar Shukor, is floating above us - out in the deep black among the stars. The whole idea of it is mind-blowing...literally out of this world!The news is so big that it has even filtered out to me here in Tanzania and penetrated my news-free existence.

I looked it up on the net and discovered that our astronaut is not only an astronaut but an orthopaedic surgeon and as a HUGE bonus, he's a hot, hot, hottie!

I didn't manage to unearth any news on his personal life so I have no idea if he's attached but if he is, I feel sorry for his girlfriend!This guy has got to be Malaysia's most eligible bachelor right now and I suspect plenty of prowling women aren't going to allow a little matter like a girlfriend get in their way!

Forget about dangers like radiation bombarding, nausea and all the other zero-gravity related problems Shukor will have to grapple with. The most astronomical (*grins*) predicament he'll have on his hands is fending off all the ladies who're going to be bearing down upon him when he gets home.

I bet our national heart-throb will inspire plenty of astronaughty thoughts among them!

Okay, I think I'm nauseating everyone with my astronaut wordplay so I'll stop here (I tried it with Angkasawan but couldn't come up with anything punny!)

pic of hottie courtesy of codewolf.com

Boys's Night Out

2007-10-10T21:36:00.000+08:00

Boys' Night Out. Three little words that I have never really understood . I've always believed that Boys Behaving Badly would be a more appropriate term to describe the antics that these boys (and sometimes elderly men) get up to when they all go out together to drink themselves into a coma.

I've happened to be at pubs when some of these Boys' Night Out gangs appear. They usually start off thumping each other on the back and looking pleased with themselves. After a while and a substantial amount of alcohol things start getting a little out of hand. That's when the whooping and whistling at everything that looks vaguely like a woman begins (this activity is often mighty dangerous in bars in Asia and especially Thailand where there are many lovely ladies who are lads).

As the night wears on, the thumping and whooping carries on, albeit, louder and in a more rowdy fashion. Eventually, someone decides that he wants to 'get some action' and cheered on by the others, makes his drunken way toward an unsuspecting woman somewhere in the bar.

Normally some kind of bet (the prize usually being more alcohol) will be involved. If the would-be Romeo is lucky, the woman is as drunk as he is and might actually allow herself to be pursued. If the Romeo is really lucky, this woman won't turn out to be a man.

I've had the wicked pleasure of witnessing one such drunken idiot approach and begin to chat up a man pretending to be a woman. Supported enthusiastically by his pals, the rather geriatric fellow proceeded to buy the "woman" a drink. I have no idea if his friends knew the truth and just wanted to watch the fun or if they were too smashed to know or care.

I'm pretty sure that the old geezer who was doing the chatting up was by no means gay. I'm also pretty sure that he didn't notice the "woman's" Adam's apple because he was by no means sober. I suppose I can't blame an inebriated geriatric if he attempts to pick up someone who looks like the one on the left without knowing that she's actually the one on the right:

I saw them leave the bar together a little later that night. Something tells me that, if the old dude had not had a fatal cardiac arrest after discovering the truth, that little escapade wouldn't stop him from making a fool of himself all over again in the following Boys' Night Out. That's the thing about men, they're not quitters. If they make a fool of themselves the first time, it never stops them from trying again!

picture of RuPaul courtesy of crossdresing.pl

My hero, my friend.

2007-10-03T15:15:00.000+08:00

Today, I found myself suddenly drawing a blank about the difference between its and it's. I can't believe this has happened to me especially since I belong to the group "If You Can't Tell the Difference Between It's and Its, You Deserve to Die!" on Facebook.

However, as I have often done during my darkest hours, I turned to my loyal, dependable friend, my rock and my secret weapon - Google. I typed "its and it's" and within seconds, the answer I was looking for appeared like magic before me and my world is right once again.

Its = possessive
It's = it is

I think people struggle with the two because, usually, a possessive includes the apostrophe as in Trisha's Johnny Depp or Johnny Depp's Trisha. So people tend to think that it's is the version that indicates possessives of nouns and pronouns.

Mixing up the two is an unforgivable sin - especially for a writer. I blame Lynn Truss, the author of Eats Shoots and Leaves, which I'm reading right now. According to the front jacket, it is a book with "the zero tolerance approach to punctuation".

I'm sorry to report that all it seems to have achieved is to confuse me about "it's and its" because of the numerous (hilarious) examples Lynn has included on the wrong way to use the two in a sentence.

Thankfully, Google was there to save me once again. My hero, my friend!
images courtesy of booksamillion.com

Junk Mail

2007-09-24T17:10:00.001+08:00

I was looking through my junk mail on Yahoo! trying to sort out between permanent trash and genuine mail (which mysteriously winds up with my junk mail despite my constant fiddling with the spam filter). This is a daily chore that I put up with and I usually don't mind because it takes about 30 seconds to get it done.

Today, however, I paused to take a closer look at all that spam and I found myself wondering who ARE the people behind them?? I know it's automated but they've got to come from somewhere..someone must be writing them?

Out of the 5 junks I received, 3 were about football and 2 had sexual connotations.

I decided that whatever spyware these junk mail people were using to identify their unsuspecting recipients/victims, can't be good. There are very few people in this world who have less interest in football than I do. All I know about football is that a bunch of guys kick the ball around and a couple of them are good looking. I wouldn't be able to tell you how many players are in each team if you pointed a gun at my eyeball. They'd have been better off trying to get my attention with shoes.

The football-related mails had these subjects: Football Fan Essentials, FOOTBALL!Are you ready? and Are you ready for some football?

The senders were rsjn, douglaswyatt and raymonddonner respectively. Douglas and Raymond didn't even have the gumption to come up with individual subject lines (although Douglas has tried to infuse some enthusiasm by using capitol letters and an exclamation mark).

The other 2 mails were even worse. One had nothing in the subject line but the recipient would have little cause to wonder what the mail would be about since the sender is called Cure Impotence. Now, that's a dead giveaway if I ever saw one!

The last one was the 'best' one of all. The sender's name is Carly and in the subject line was this intriguing question: Do you want to enlarge your penis at home?. No I don't Carly, not even if I actually had one and if I happened to have one AND I was stupid enough to think I could enlarge it, I certainly wouldn't do it at home, thank you very much!

I didn't open any of the mails, of course (goodness knows what viruses lurk within). I'm just curious as to who comes up with these mails and how. Do they sit around at a conference table discussing, over coffee, new and improved ways of infuriating the recipients of their junk mail? Possibly.

Personally, I picture a lonely computer geek, sitting in his room somewhere in Arizona, getting paid something like 5 cents a week to send out insignificant and sometimes offensive junk to millions of people around the world. Sad.

I used to think that the worst jobs in the world had to be septic tank workers and toll booth collectors but now I realize that Junk Mail sender can't be much better!

Cartoon from http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/horsey

Wasting my life away....

2007-09-20T16:28:00.000+08:00

I am officially a Facebook Fanatic!!! I've been sitting at the computer since 8:30am and now it's 11:33 am in Tanzania and I'm still unable to tear myself away!

I've got articles to write and breakfast to eat.....

Now I know what it feels like to be a druggie....somebody help!!!

Celebrities? Not so much!

2007-09-17T17:09:00.000+08:00

I've decided to come clean. In the name of honesty, I'm going to reveal a list of celebrities whom I think don't belong in Hollywood because they just-aren't-good-looking-enough (even though tabloids and the general public insist they are!)

Let's face it people, Hollywood and the movies are largely about looks (there are some exceptions like Meryl Streep but you've really got to be a HUGE talent to offset lack of looks!).

Taking this into consideration, I've carefully compiled this list of people who should be in an office somewhere hidden behind a cubicle and not up on the big screen or in the limelight where the rest of us are forced to pay money to look at them. We'll begin with:

1. Renee Zellweger

Let me tell you she did NOT have me at hello. She looked her best in her first movie, Jerry Maguire but even then she wasn't that great looking. She was good as Bridget Jones only because Bridget isn't supposed to be the Miss World type. Sorry to say this but I have a soft toy pig that is a dead ringer for Renee. I think Miss Piggy (the muppet) is marginally cuter and certainly more glamorous.

2. Justin Timberlake

Many a die-hard fan will disagree with me on this but I urge you to look deep into your hearts where the truth resides. Justin started off in the Mickey Mouse Club (already a HUGE turn off) and moved on to 'N Sync with, think about this, tight curly hair and a loony smile. We should all thank the stylist who finally convinced him to lop off those ridiculous curls. At least now with only a thin film of hair clinging to his head we (including Timbers) can try to forget his hair-raising past. Unfortunately, he still sports that loony, decidedly un-sexy grin. He insists he's Bringing Sexy Back - I'm still waiting.

3. Cameron Diaz

Another victim of the Loony Grin Syndrome (she seems to have a Loony Grin perpetually frozen on her face). She was SO hot in The Mask (her debut, I think) but has had nowhere to go but down since then.
Someone must have told her, at some point, that she's got a really wonderful, happy smile and infectious laugh. She's been playing up these 'assets' ever since and I think she's gone overboard because now, she's laughing all-the-time. That girl would laugh if you fell down the stairs and broke both your legs. It may have been infectious once but these days she sounds like she's drowning in a pool somewhere every time she lets out a guffaw (which is often). Meanwhile the years have not been very kind to Cameron and perhaps because she laughs as often as an insane person does, she's got the lines to show for it. Everybody say Botox.

4. Kirsten Duntz

I remember her when she was a little girl in Interview with a Vampire opposite Hollywood Hotties Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. The casting was brilliant and I thought that it was the creativity and genius of the makeup crew that made Miss Duntz look all Dracula-like. Years have passed, she's all grown up and I notice she still looks like a vampire (so it wasn't the makeup after all). She needs a trip to the orthodontist. Those razor-sharp, angular, pointy teeth of hers are doing her no favours in the looks department.
The last person who should be Mary Jane Watson in the Spiderman series, if you ask me. Someone less vampire-like would have been a lot easier on the eye.

5. Daniel Craig

Has no one else noticed that he'd fill the shoes of a thug much better than he could ever fill James Bond's? I thought Bond was supposed to be sexy and suave. I read somewhere that Craig was too short, too blond and too crass to play the role and I couldn't agree more. The man tries hard to get a sultry look going on (refer to pic) but just can't seem to get past his brutish features. Perhaps his acting prowess makes up for his lack of looks but unfortunately for Daniel this is a list about looks not talent.

Alright, that was pretty harsh but I stand by my list and to be honest I didn't do this in the name of honesty. I did it because I felt like being catty. My advice is, when you're in a foul mood, take it out on celebrities. They're rich, they're famous and they don't give an arse coz any publicity is good publicity (or at least that's what I'm telling myself!)

pics courtesy of askmen.com, smh.com.au and mi6.co.uk

Yet another new look

2007-09-16T22:35:00.000+08:00

I've changed my template again. I think it looks kind of funky now. The only problem with it is when I try to bold something it comes out in this color and can't be seen!

I'm really getting obsessed with this aren't I?

On top of this, the Internet is behaving badly once again and I'm trying to do everything quickly before it decides to die on me.

I think I'd better stop doing this before I become a complete nerd!

PS: Ooooh...I just realized that I can choose my font colour in my post - like this. I really, really better stop fiddling around with templates....totally losing it!

Panic!

2007-09-15T23:37:00.000+08:00

Oh no! *screams*!

I nearly died when I logged on to this blog a few hours ago and found that my entire template had disappeared! I was deeply thankful that the entire blog hadn't gone Bermuda Triangle on me as well.

That's why there's this new image all of a sudden. I've been meaning to update the look for sometime now and it looks like the Universe has decided that it's going to be today.

Overall, I'm still not too pleased with what I've got but it's going to have to do for the moment. I've been sitting in at the computer for ages and just looked up to realize that it's dark and The Engineer is hungry so I've gotta go!

I've lost all of the links that we had (Trixie put them up) and have had to deal with a WHOLE LOT of HTML which really, really, really sucks big time!

On the upside, I've edited my Profile which I've been meaning to do and I'm planning to add new page elements soon.

Told you I've been at this for so hours... I sound like a proper Obsessed Blogger now!

World Wide Web-oholic

2007-09-15T15:30:00.000+08:00

I had no idea how much my life depended upon the smooth, uninterrupted running of the Internet until I had it suddenly snatched away from me last week.

The people who were supposed to renew my subscription took an age and a day to get the job done. I'm here to say that the Malaysian 'lepak' attitude seems positively industrious compared to the Tanzanian 'pole pole' (meaning slowly, slowly in Swahili).

While the Tanzanian Internet people took their pole pole time, I found myself feeling perplexed and groundless...constantly, mournfully glancing at my blank computer screen. This is what druggies and alcoholics must feel like!

Like all junkies, I was all irritable and nasty, getting a little desperate, looking for my next fix. I was just thinking of driving out to the atrociously priced Dar Es Salaam Holiday Inn to log on, when the net was reconnected!

I wonder what the hell we all did with ourselves before the Internet took over our lives? The harsh realities of life are so much more bearable when I'm comfortable ensconced within the World Wide Web.

There's no ugly like Crocs Ugly

2007-09-03T16:48:00.001+08:00

I'm going to come right out and say it: Crocs are U-G-L-Y.

They're so horrible that they border on offensive. C'mon, be honest with yourself and take a good, long look:

The first time I saw a pair, I actually held my breath for a few moments because I'd never laid eyes upon such ugly shoes (and I've seen some hideous footwear in my lifetime, trust me - I grew up in the 80s).

The people who released these revolting shoes upon the world have tried their darndest to pretty-them-up with cute colours but ugly, they stubbornly remain.

A friend recently wore them and I couldn't take my eyes off them - it's like the scene of a car crash, you don't want to look but you just have to! My friend's pair was black which made them all the uglier (if that's even possible!).

To her credit, she admitted that they're quite awful and that she would never have bought them for herself ( which is a good thing because I find it hard to remain friends with people who knowingly subject their friends to Crocs). They were a gift and she'd contemplated ignoring them completely but the moment she put them on, she said just couldn't take them off again - they were SO comfortable!

For the longest time, the Crocs craze was a mystery to me. All was revealed when I tried on a pair and they were possibly the most comfortable things I'd ever had on my feet. I almost gave in to the sudden urge to ignore what my eyes were telling me and run out and buy a pair for myself. I managed to fling them off my feet just in time. It was like being under some kind of spell - their comfort makes you forget how revolting they look!

Comfort or no comfort, that's no excuse to prance around with what looks like the footwear of choice for the trolls and goblins in Enid Blyton's books. I've never seen any human being look good in Crocs. That's probably because they belong on something that looks like this:

I believe the only people who can give Crocs a run for their ugly money are the Dutch and their hideous wooden shoes (try not to look directly at them)

Hopefully the good people at Crocs will eventually come up with something that's just as comfortable but with a severely diminished level of Ugly.If they don't, I propose that the English language expands to include a new phrase - "Croc Ugly".This will be used to describe something that looks particularly horrendous when all other words fail to hit the mark.

Meanwhile, in protest, I shall endeavor to remain resistant to these revolting things. Promise to shoot me if you see me in them.

pics courtesy of: www.kickmaster.com,www.theorthoticgroup.com,www.hegemonyrules.net

I like documentaries - yikes!

2007-08-27T14:27:00.000+08:00

The good news is, I've survived the Weird African Flu thingee! Boy, it's good to be alive!

The bad news is, I'm behind on some writing and have to drag myself out of my lazy stupor.

I've gotten used to feeling vaguely ill and lying around in front of the TV. Now that I'm all better and therefore have no excuse to do that anymore, I find myself faced with the unattractive prospect of getting up off my arse and getting to work.

Who knew illness could be so much fun?

Despite my general delight with the squandered time in front of the TV, I'm glad to report that it wasn't a complete waste. While frittering away the hours, I chanced upon a very sudden and rather bothersome insight about myself.

I've discovered that I just LOVE documentaries.

I suppose that doesn't really sound bothersome and might actually be a good thing but in my mind that's a definite sign of..... Old Age!! Argggghhh!

Think about it - kids, teenagers and young adults either have no interest in documentaries or have no time to watch them (because they're out living their lives and having fun)

So, while The History Channel, Animal Planet, Discovery and National Geographic might be highly intelligent and informative choices for the TV viewer (especially if you give Girls of the Playboy Mansion on E! a miss), it doesn't say much about your social life and even less about your age.

Let's face it - no one below 30 voluntarily tunes in to documentaries. Goodness knows, I certainly didn't. In fact, the very word 'documentary' used to make me feel bored. No kidding!

I think this is a sign that I should get out and live a little. Unless, of course, Discovery comes up with something like How To Stay Young After 30.....

The Flu

2007-08-24T16:25:00.000+08:00

I've been out of commission of late due to, a what must only be, a Weird African Flu Virus.

The darn thing has had its grip on me for more than a week and I've been unable to do much in the writing department.

It seems to be on it's way out but for some reason (probably coz I'm feeling ill) I'm also terribly homesick.

Flu + homesickenss = Misery

So I shall resort to my time-tested remedy:

Chocolate + Sex and the City reruns = Comfort

TV is good for you

2007-08-13T15:13:00.000+08:00

To the people who say that watching TV is a bad habit - I say to you (as Mr. Burns would) bosh, flimshaw!!!

TV, like chocolate, has had a bad reputation for far too long and I predict that, like chocolate, some scientist somewhere is going to prove that watching TV is actually good for you.

To prove my point, below, is the impressive list of the things I learned from watching TV yesterday:

1. Cardamoms are one of the most expensive spices because they are difficult to grow and must be hand-picked
2. Saffron is actually the stigma of these gorgeous flowers:

They're also one of the most expensive spices because it takes hundreds of these flowers to produce just 100gms of saffron

3. The world is coming to an end sometime in 2012. This is according to the ancient Mayans, the book of Revelations, the medieval predictions of Merlin and something called the Web-bot project which makes massive scans of the internet (just Google 2012 and you'll see what I'm talking about)

4. The ancient Aztecs of Mexico made human sacrifices every, single day and actually reached into the chest cavity of their hapless victims and tore out their hearts. Plus they apparently had some of them for dinner after.

5. According to renowned diver Jacques Cousteau, two-foot long frogs were to be found in Lake Titicaca.

Of course, I had to watch a Whole Lot of TV to get these bits of information
Of course most of this information isn't going to help me much unless I enter a gameshow based on meaningless trivia or wish to impress the unsuspecting public on my vast knowledge about nothing in particular.
Of course most of that information had flown out of my head this morning and I had to look up the details on the net
Of course all that TV watching made my eyes feel tired and made me feel lazy all day.

But I stand by what I said - TV is good for you. Besides, as Joey from Friends said - where would all your living room furniture be pointed at if you didn't have a TV?

TV, bad for you? Bosh, flimshaw!

pics courtesy of www.moranjan.com and op-for.com

Row, row, row your boat....

2007-08-06T15:44:00.001+08:00

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream

I haven't thought of this rhyme in about 10 years but it suddenly sprang into my mind this morning. It was triggered by a most unlikely source - Buddhism.

I was reading a book by Pema Chodron called Start Where You Are. Pema is an ordained Tibetan Buddhist nun and although I'm not a Buddhist, I've always found her books offer me a sense of comfort and peace especially during difficult times in my life. If you're curious you can find out more about Pema and her books

Anyway, I was reading about a concept where you should 'regard all dharmas as dreams'. This sounds deep and confusing but it's actually quite straightforward.

Tibetan Buddhists believe that whatever you experience in your life is like something in a dream.

Pema explains in her book (it's a bit long but I think really worth a read):

We went for a walk this morning but now it is a memory. Every situation is a passing memory. Just a few moments ago, you were standing in the hall and now it is a memory. But then it was so real.

Although you might think things are solid, they are like passing memory. All that arises in your mind - hate, love and all the rest - is not solid. The key is, it's no big deal. We could all just lighten up. Regard all dharmas as dreams. With our minds, we make a big deal out of ourselves, out of our pain, and out of our problems.

If someone instructed you to catch the beginning, the middle, and the end of every thought, you'd find that they don't seem to have a beginning, middle, and end. It's like trying to see when water turns into steam. You can never find the precise moment. Everything is like that.

Have you ever been caught up in the heavy-duty scenario of feeling defeated and hurt and then somehow for no particular reason, you just drop it? We all know this feeling of how we make things a big deal and then realize that we're making a lot out of nothing.

Quite profound, I think. It made me look at my problems from a completely new perspective. It was when I was thinking about this that it came upon me that life itself is like a dream and that's when the rhyme came to mind.

Who would have thought that all these years, one of the great teachings of Tibetan Buddhism was also to be found within the simplicity of a child's rhyme?

pic of lotus courtesy of whitelotusaromatics.com
pic of dhow courtesy of yours truly *grins*

Are you sure you don't have kids?

2007-08-01T17:47:00.000+08:00

I was talking to a new friend today and we happened to get to the topic of having children. I thought I'd had it bad when people asked why I haven't had kids yet (they're usually quite interrogatory and pushy about the whole thing)

This friend of mine has definitely faced worse. Apparently when someone she just met asked her if she had kids and she said no, this person asked her, "are you sure?"

What kind of a remark is that? It's almost like it simply cannot be true that a married woman of a certain age does not have kids. There must be something WRONG with her, right?

After all, which woman on this earth could resist this:

I suppose it's easier for people to accept that such women have, in fact, had children and this has simply escaped their notice rather than to face that these women knowingly don't have children.

So weird!

pic courtesy of absolutepleasuregifts.com

Self Praise is No Praise

2007-07-25T23:02:00.000+08:00

I know I justified my long silences between posts by insisting that well-thought out blogging is better than fly-by-night kind of blogging but I've decided that I was talking a fair amount of crap.

Let's face it, blogging, at its core, is about recording thoughts and thoughts can range from the deeply profound to just plain stupid.

So, here I am getting off my high horse with a meaningless thought I had today.It's about cooking or to be more accurate, cooking programmes.

How in the world do chefs who appear on TV (and I include the greats like Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson) manage to praise their own cooking without flinching? They all savour their food in front of the camera and proclaim with much enthusiasm, that it tastes "delicious" or "gorgeous" or "simply divine." They do this in almost every episode and without fail I think how silly and slightly bizarre they sound!

I know, they can't very well put the food they've just prepared into their mouths, spit it out and scream "that was absolutely ghastly!", even if it tastes like rotting garbage. After all, they are trying to get people to try their recipes, watch their shows and buy their cookbooks.

Still, I can't help but feel that they're a little too quick to applaud themselves when they do it. Why don't they get someone else to taste the stuff and congratulate them fabulous cooking instead? It might still seem fake but at least it wouldn't be self-praise.

If I were to do what they do, I'd have to get in front of a camera, read aloud from this blog and proclaim at the end that my writing is "simply divine!" How absurd!

image courtesy of galleries.lycos.co.uk

The Woes of Keeping in Touch

2007-07-23T14:51:00.000+08:00

Hellow again after my looooongggg hiatus.

I'm telling you, my lack of fluidity when it comes to emailing, blogging and generally keeping in touch is really going to lose me some friends!

I just had a look at my email (after about 3 weeks of not even glancing at it back in KL) and realized that some people who had been emailing me sweetly and regularly have now totally disappeared from the radar of my inbox. Even after I replied their mails!

That's the problem with people like me. I hardly ever reply emails or leave comments on other people's blogs (although I read them regularly) and yet I have the cheek to expect everyone else to pounce on their computers and hammer out comments and emails to me the instant I send out a measly email or write a post in my blog.

The problem with keeping in touch is the keeping in touch part. Emails and phone calls often make me miss people even more, not less. People don't realize that the lack of emails etc are by no means an indication that they're not thought of fondly or missed terribly by me. Okay, that sounds like an excuse but it's true!

Same goes with blogging. I love reading the comments (often just 'comment' without the s but I cherish it nonetheless) at the end of my posts but my lack of consistency must come across as a 'couldn't care less' attitude which I suppose is highly off-putting.

In my defense, I don't really believe in staying in touch solely through forwarded email jokes and one-liner blog posts. Jokes interspresed with proper emails are fine but some people seem to believe that sending silly jokes all the time constitutes a proper way to stay in touch with someone whom they clearly couldn't be arsed to sit down and write to properly!

One line blog posts are okay but isn't it better to read irregular meaningful posts that have been thought through than regular posts that are, frankly, just nonsense?

Right, sounds like I'm defending my irregular, inconsistent blogging behaviour again so I think I'll just shut up now!

Honestly, I really envy people who consistently and persistently stay glued to their computers and through rain, sleet, snow and storm stay in touch, stay online and stay connected to everyone they know and love.

I wish I was that good but meanwhile, I'll just have to bumble along and hope people will still love me despite my no-good inconsistent ways!

Good Little/Bad Little Blogger

2007-06-25T17:15:00.000+08:00

I think whoever's been reading this blog (all four of you and one of the four of you is me!) would have realized that, of late, I've been a Good Little Blogger and posting quite regularly.

I told myself that if I was going to maintain this blog, I shouldn't do a half past six job of it (hey I haven't heard the 'half past six' phrase since my music teacher used it on me when I was 9!).

In line with my new goal, I've been leaving my computer on and writing whenever inspiration hit me ala Carrie in Sex and the City.

I must say that Carrie was onto something coz it has really helped me blog regularly but there's soon to be a monkey wrench in the works (I'm just full of stupid phrases today, aren't I?!)

I'm leaving for KL again tomorrow! While I'm all "woo hoo" about it, I know from experience that my blogging almost comes to a complete halt when I get back home.

What with all the shopping for essential supplies (let me tell you Body Shop is closer to me in my dreams than it is to me in Dar so I practically have to buy the whole place up when I'm home!) and meeting friends and family, I hardly have time to breathe let alone blog. Plus it's a mission to get online at home when I don't have my computer with me.

So, there goes my nice, regular blogging pattern. This means that despite my best efforts, I'm once again a Bad Little Blogger.

What can I say, the universe is conspiring against me!

picture courtesy of istockphoto.com

Totally Gross Behaviour

2007-06-22T15:03:00.000+08:00

I was out with some friends a few weeks back when one of them did something that TOTALLY grossed me out!

No, he didn't pick his nose in public or throw up coz he'd ingested too much alcohol (although these also rank very highly on my Totally Gross Behaviour list). He did something that I'd never do in a million years - he picked a piece of chicken off the floor, where it had fallen and ate it!!!! Eeeeewwww!!!!

How absolutely appalling! Why do some people think that they're immune to all the ghastly bacteria, worms, insects, bugs and other unmentionables that lurk in the dark regions of the ground beneath their feet?

It doesn't mean that if you can't see it, it isn't there!

I suppose it's the same "nothing bad will ever happen to me" thinking shared by chain-smokers and people who practise unsafe sex.

Still, who am I to judge? People who know me think I practically have an obsessive compulsive disorder when it comes to cleanliness (but these are the people who haven't met my mother!)
Besides, my friend seemed none the worse for the wear so maybe I'm being too much of a pain in the arse!

Besides, I think my bad habit of pointing out the negatives of not living a super clean life isn't going to win me any friends.

I remember when Trixie and I used to work in the same office and she'd walk around without her shoes on, sometimes. She wore impossibly high and fabulously wonderful heels that rendered her paralysed from the ankles down if she didn't take them off every few hours.

She was perfectly comfortable prancing around on the office carpet, all happy and barefooted until I pointed out that that was the very same carpet that other people trod on after going to the office toilet and stepping on pee or worse! Yuckity yuck!

She never took off her shoes again, let me tell you but I think she secretly wanted to choke me for ruining her blissful ignorance!

Owen and Mzee

2007-06-18T17:47:00.000+08:00

I was watching Oprah recently when this picture came up on screen.

Isn't that one of the cutest photographs you've ever seen in your entire life? The story behind it is even cuter.

Apparently the baby hippo, Owen, was left homeless and orphaned after floods hit Kenya in 2005. Rescuers picked him up and housed him in a nearby wildlife sanctuary. The enclosure Owen ended up in already had another inhabitant - a 130 year-old-tortoise called Mzee (which means old man in Swahili).

The two became fast friends within days and are together all the time.

What really struck me about the story is that two animals, who don't have anything in common, can get along so well.

This might sound ridiculously naive but I've decided that if Owen and Mzee can be friends then anyone can.

From now on, everytime I'm ready to strike someone off as 'not friend material' or just plain annoying, I'm going to think of Owen and Mzee.

...and the rest shall remain nameless!

2007-06-13T15:40:00.000+08:00

I was at a party recently when, out of nowhere, one of the ladies there rushed over and said "Hello Trisha, how are you doing?!"

Instantly, I felt the familiar rush of panic accompanied by the feeling of wanting to run away quickly and never return. This was not because the lady looked grotesquely inhuman and had obscenely bad breath but simply because I just could not remember her name!

I have the world's worst memory when it comes to names. For some unfathomable reason I just cannot remember people's names! Faces are fine. I can always recognize a face but if you were to ask me to attach a name to it, I'd sooner be able to win American Idol while yodelling a Bollywood number and dancing around a tree.

The lady at the party looked really friendly and I was sure that we had been properly introduced but I had no idea what her name was - not a an idea, not a clue, not an inkling.

Unfortunately, most people who encounter my hesitation in speaking to them mistakenly believe that I'm something of a snob and eventually leave me alone. I'm left feeling even worse because, often, I'd really love to talk to them if I could just remember their darned names!

I have no idea how to ask them politely because they usually use my name in the conversation which means that they took the trouble to remember it! Instead, I stand there sweating, wondering how in the world I'm going to keep the conversation short enough so I don't have to address them in any way.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) there are loads of other people who have the same problem.

After the lady at the party left, I turned to my friend to ask her the woman's name. She'd just had a ten minute conversation with the mystery woman herself and judging from the witty repartee and laughter, I thought they knew each other pretty well.

My friend looked at me and said: "I was going to ask you. I just can't remember!"

Poor, nameless soul!

Chocolate and bananas

2007-06-08T20:14:00.000+08:00

Just a passing thought....

Why do people love the chocolate and banana combination? I find cooked banana (with the exception of pisang goreng) way too gooey and even if it's not gooey, the chocolate makes the whole concoction taste weird.

I was fooled into eating a chocolate banana cake once coz it looked really yum but I lived to regret.

Chocolate and banana - weird!

The award for Best Mug Shot goes to...

2007-06-06T15:47:00.000+08:00

I've been extremely lax with my posts and it's totally unforgivable but I do have an explanation for my bad blogging behaviour.

One of my best girlfriends here in Tanzania has left for South Africa - for good!!! *Sob* Girlfriend was the one who hauled me out of my miserable homesick gloom when I first got here and was missing my best girlfriend from back home - Trixie.

Life isn't going to be the same for me here but perhaps I should take it as a way to grow and when you have fewer friends and more time what do you do? Blog, of course!

Which brings me to today's subject. Since I feel kind of low and can't think of anything new to write, I'll be lazy and continue on my previous topic - Prison Paris! I'm sure you've figured out by now that Paris is a subject I just love to hate.

I glanced at my Yahoo! homepage this morning and discovered that the Ditzy Diva is now safely in prison but that doesn't seem to be the main point of focus. Apparently there are far more important things to consider than why Paris is in prison or even how (and what) she's doing behind bars.

The crucial issue at this point centres around how Paris, even as a jailbird, has managed to top a celebrity list. No, it's not the best-dressed, sexiest or even party-girl list. Naaawwww.... she's moved on to a far more fascinating list - the Celebrity Mug Shot List.Even while being photographed by the police, the air-head heiress just couldn're resist looking her best for the camera.

Now, this where I'd normally be spewing out sarcastic comments a mile a minute but for once I must say that I that she really does look good in her police pics!

You wouldn't even know that was her mug shot if someone didn't tell you.

Sadly, the same can't be said for some other celebrities who've been caught in less than classy circumstances.

Let's start with Nick Nolte. I don't know what crime he committed to have his mug shot taken but I do know that he's definitely committed a crime of fashion. Even among all the other ugly, flowered shirts I've seen, this one stands out as the ugliest of all!

And his 'before' pic:

Alright, he wasn't that much to look at in the first place but anything's an improvement when it's compared to his mug shot - horrible!
Next we have Yasmeen Bleeth a former Baywatch Babe (goodness gracious!)

It's especially sad when you compare it to her 'before' pic:

While we're on the topic of mug shots and police, let's not forget Robert Downey Jr (oops!) :

Terribly sad downgrade from his before pic:

So Ms. Hilton really is kind of smart to make sure she looks good in her mug shots coz, forevermore, when the world Googles Downey, Nolte and Bleeth everyone'll see them looking like what the cat threw up yesterday. Meanwhile, Paris is going to be all smug coz her mug's the best one of all!

*pics courtesy of Yahoo! and Google images

The Simplest Life

2007-05-21T15:08:00.001+08:00

Warning to all Paris Hilton fans (and this includes you, Trixie!) : This post is going to be a Paris Hilton Bashing Session.

Now that I've got that off my chest, I can say what I'm really thinking. I feel slightly awful about this but a part of me (the non-dharma, Aldo-loving, green-eyed monster part) is really pleased to hear that Ms. Hilton is going to jail. This is what I call The Simplest Life. What could be a simpler life than that of a jailbird? This could possibly be the first time ever that I've seen her without her plastered-on plastic surgery perfect expression:

Personally, I think she's getting what she deserves. I say this with not a small amount of glee but before all you Paris Hilton devotees hunt me down and torture my Paris-hating ass for talking this way about your Ditzy Deity, let me urge you to do one thing.

If you peel back and look beyond my despicable happiness at someone else's suffering, you will realize that it might probably be a good thing that Paris is going to jail. Think about it. If she's driving around drunk or high or whatever, she's going to end up in some sort of awful accident sooner or later. Jail time might actually discourage her from repeating these little feats of stupidity and may indirectly be a life-saving experience.

Besides, she's Paris Hilton. It's more than likely she's just going to shrug it off as yet another scandal in her overly scandalous existence and decide to turn it all into a profit-churning venture like a book or video or song or all three. Maybe she'll come up with a perfume. She'll name it something like Prison - the Fragrance of the Flagrant by Paris Hilton and it'll go on to sell millions of bottles.

I may dislike her but even I have to grudgingly admit that Ms. Hilton is nothing if not a wily witch when it comes to business and she has the most amazing ability to bounce back from the worst setbacks. So if you're worried about Paris, don't be. All will be well in Paris Hilton World sooner rather than later.

Disoriented

2007-05-15T22:54:00.000+08:00

I am SO confused right now. We had to fly back to Tanzania at very short notice because The Engineer got called back to work.

Within the 3 weeks I was away, my best girlfriend here and another lady I'm really fond of have discovered that they will be leaving Tanzania for good!

I'm so disoriented coz I'm spending half the time wanting to weep and the other half trying to figure out which country I'm in. We arrived here last Saturday and I still can't remember if I'm in KL or Dar when I wake up in the mornings. Help!!!

Back Home!

2007-04-29T21:24:00.000+08:00

Goodness! I have been SO bad with posting anything. I wonder if anyone out there is even reading this anymore : (

So sorry but I've actually came home to Kayel last weekend and like a true Malaysian, I've been enveloping myself in culinary delights (read: nasi kandar, char kway teow, yong tau foo and homemade curries) to have much time to do anything else!

The only time I've been out properly was last Friday night. Trixie, The Engineer, me and Trixie's very cute, very young-looking (although he's in his mid-thirties) friend went out to this place called Palate Palette (or is it Palette Palate?). Super cool murals on the wall and most importantly super potent lychee martinis! I am SO going to make them when I get back to Dar!

Bit of a mission to get on the net when I'm back home hence my long silence. Will try to post again as soon as I get myself organised. Meanwhile, am loving it back here in good 'ol Kuala Lumpur!

Totally Random Thoughts

2007-04-19T04:40:00.000+08:00

First Random Thought:
As a kid, I used to be really confused by the saying "when the going gets tough, the tough get going." I actually thought it meant that when things got hard, the tough get up and leave but I never managed to figure out where they actually went. I know, I wasn't the brightest bulb on the shelf!

Eventually I learned the real meaning of the phrase but it's never been one of my favourites. I prefer my own version : "when the going gets tough, the smart start leaving". Sounds cowardly but at least you keep yourself out of trouble!

Second Random Thought:
I have no idea why short versions of some names have nothing to do with the full version.

The whole point of shortening someone's name is to do just that - shorten it. Logic would dictate that short versions should be literally a shorter form of the full name likeTrisha/Trish and Trixie/Trix.

But did you know that the short version of William is Bill (Clinton's full name is William Jefferson Clinton)? How stupid is that? Why can't it just be Will? Even worse - the short version of Richard is Dick! Who in their right mind would give up Richard (which is quite a nice name) and start answering to Dick? Everyone knows it's another word for a part of a man's anatomy that usually does most of the thinking for the man.

Guess what? I just realized that Monica Lewinsky had her way with Will Clinton's Richard! Okay, I'm totally getting too random! Time to get some sleep!

The Edge of Heaven

2007-04-16T19:13:00.000+08:00

This probably means that I'm old but I remember a time when the word gay meant just that - gay. It didn't describe a lifestyle choice or sexual orientation. It just meant happy.

That was the time when gay people where described as queer and the guys from Queer Eye would have met the same fate as the Jake Gyllenhaal's character on Brokeback Mountain.

The other day a bunch of us who grew up in the 80s were discussing how silly we were not to have picked up that something was different about George Michael. I'm talking about George Michael as he originally appeared on the world stage - as one half of Wham!

I had such a HUGE crush on those guys! I couldn't decide whom I loved more - George Michael or Andrew Ridgeley (the talentless half of the duo whom I suspect played 'air' guitar most of the time). I actually cried when they released their final album, Edge of Heaven. I was such a geek!

How could we have collectively missed that George Michael was gay, gay, gay?! Just look at him during his Wham! days:

Even if we were all totally ignorant in the 80s, I still didn't catch on in the 90s:

You could use the guy's beard in geometry class coz it's so straight! Little did I know that that was the only straight thing about him. In fact, I was totally caught off guard when it finally came out that he'd come out of the closet. I felt almost like he'd cheated me out of all my girlhood dreams.... I was such a big fan.

But no matter how stupid and ignorant we all were back in the 80s, the youth of the previous generation must feel even more stupid and ignorant. I'm refering to the Village People. Just look at what they missed:

Even if everyone else in the group seemed okay, the guy in the blue shirt, the cowboy and the policeman should have given people some sort of indication that these weren't just ordinary guys!
The innocence of youth - sometimes that's a good thing and at other times it just means that George Michael and the Village People are able to pull wool over your eyes for decades!

Happy Easter!

2007-04-08T13:58:00.000+08:00

Happy Easter everybody! Happy easter egg huntin' and chocolate egg eatin'!

The E! Channel, which I watch rather religously, is celebrating Easter by having a Girls of the Playboy Mansion marathon. Playboy bunny - get it? *Grins*

In my book this bunny....

is hardly a replacement for this one....

but hey, maybe I'm just being old-fashioned!

Bad Vibes and Vegetarians

2007-04-05T16:51:00.000+08:00

I'm going to reveal a well-kept secret. It's well-kept because anyone who reveals it is going to offend quite a good portion of the general population. Here goes:

It's hard to be friends with vegetarians.

There, I said it. I mean, what's vegetarianism all about anyway? Granted, going green is good for you and in some cases, people do it for religous reasons but it sure ain't gonna help your social life! Things get really complicated when you have vegetarians as friends.

To be fair, I've never really known a catty vegetarian or a bitchy vegetarian or even a very gossipy vegetarian. In fact, they all seem to have really calm, peaceful personalities (probably because they're vegetarian!) They're great as friends... that is until you have to have a meal with them. It's just hard work eating with vegetarians because you've always got to remember that they can't eat this, that or the other!

In uni, we had a couple of these vegetarians hanging around the rest of us meat-eaters. Our campus was 20 km away from the nearest big town and it was always a big treat to go there for lunch on weekends.

Then these vegetarians would somehow find out about our plans (despite our best efforts at keeping it a secret) and invite themselves. For some reason everyone was always dying for Kentucky Fried Chicken but the vegetarians would ruin everything. We usually ended up eating chinese vegetarian food which isn't all that bad but it isn't KFC either!

I remembered that particular episode because Girlfriend recently put together a seafood dinner for a bunch of us at her place. There is this one Indian guy who is nice in every other respect except for the fact that he's a dratted vegetarian.

I had to cook a special dish for him which, I think, didn't turn out very well. This was not because I had added to much salt or anything but because it was filled with bad vibes - I complained and grumbled the entire time the pot was on the stove. Then I felt so guilty about it because he seemed so sincerely grateful that I had put in the extra effort. Poor guy!

To be fair most vegetarians don't really expect special attention and will gladly eat whatever they get their hands on but it's a bit cruel if you're chomping on your Big Mac while your vegetarian friend picks on a potato salad, isn't it?

Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing here but anyone who has had to plan a barbeque for 20 normal people and one vegetarian is definitely going to sympathise with me!

Haute Couture

2007-03-30T16:04:00.000+08:00

Haute couture: French for "high sewing" or "high dressmaking"; refers to the creation of exclusive custom-fitted fashions - definition by Wikipedia

I have always dreamed of owning haute couture - perhaps a Dolce and Gabbana or better yet, an Oscar de la Renta

I never dreamed that I actually would end up owning what is technically considered haute couture although it's neither a D&G or a de la Renta original. The outfit is straight out of Africa and designed by Asia - that's the designer's name by the way, Asia Idarous.

My sudden leap into the world of 'high dressmaking' happened a few weeks ago when I attended a luncheon that was enticingly called "A Taste of Tanzania". It was organised by a group of expats who belong to an international charity organisation and a fashion show by a local designer was one of the highlights.

Alright, a Dar runway is by no means a New York, Paris or Milan runway. Hey, it's not even a KL runway but what the heck - it's a runway. After one year in Tanzania, trust me, any runway is a good runway!

I didn't know what to expect so I tried not to expect anything. The bad news was that it was hotter than hell under the tents in the garden where the event was held. The good news was that the garden was gorgeous and the food and fashion part of the event was beyond marvelous.

If you don't believe me, here's the proof:
Fab food....

and high fashion Tanzanian-style...

This was my purchase (for the record, that's not me in the picture. Trixie panicked thinking that I had inexplicably begun looking like the local people). I literally got it straight off the runway.

I haven't worn it yet. Trixie, who's passion for fashion is widely known, has given me her seal of approval and is already thinking up places for me to wear it in KL.

You can take the girl out of the small town....

2007-03-17T23:19:00.000+08:00

Girlfriend and I had, what I thought, was a highly fascinating conversation recently.

No, it wasn't about global warming, poverty or world peace. We discussed something far more critical than that - Britney Spears.

Let me admit, straight up , that neither one of us is a Britney fan but we were curious to know why she started off looking like this

moved on to this

and now looks like this

I mean, fan or not, anyone is going to wonder what in the world is bothering this girl. It's sad, actually.

As I often do, I offered up my unsolicited opinion on the deterioration of Ms.Spears. I believe that she made a HUGE mistake when she married Kevin Federline and has since gone down Trailer Trash lane. This is very much the story of Whitney Houston and Bobbi Brown, another doomed union (incidentally, Britney's last big hit was My Prerogative, a Bobbi Brown 80s hit - mere coincidence or weird karmic link? Cue Twilight Zone theme music!!!)

Then Girlfriend came up with a far better explanation. She is of the belief that Britney suffers from 'smalltowngirl' syndrome. Anyone who grew up in a small town (Girlfriend and I both did) will instantly recognise this deadly disease. Britney is originally from Kentwood, Louisiana which makes her a small town, down south kinda gal. Kentwood is described as a rural town (I looked it up) so Girlfriend's theory fits.

The big city girls might ask: "what's smalltowngirl syndrome?" Well, a smalltowngirl grows up in a community where everyone, and I mean everyone, knows who she is. The entire population of the town will know her father, mother, brothers and sisters, her favourite flavour of ice-cream and what her pet goldfish is called. In other words, you can't step one toe out of line without the whole town finding out about it and whispering awful things about you and your family. It's all about reputation, reputation and reputation in a small town.

What is the effect of all this on a teenage girl? Well, you learn to smile and call everyone above 30 Aunty and Uncle until you're blue in the face. You also learn to please e-v-e-r-y-b-o-d-y! You're expected to be all pure and virginal until you get married. Then you're immediately supposed to have kids.

So Girlfriend's theory goes that Britney Spears is a smalltowngirl at heart. Despite being an international superstar who wears outfits that leave little to the imagination (and little doubt that Ms. Spears has no fashion sense) Britney failed to shake off that smalltowngirl syndrome. If you really think about it, Girlfriend's theory is right.

In order to portray a goodie-goodie image, Britney kept insisting she was still a virgin even though Justin Timberlake had 'been there, done that!' When the truth came out she tried to repair her reputation, in true smalltowngirl style. She turned to a backup guy- her backup dancer Kevin Federline - and married him. Then, she took the smalltowngirl syndrome even further by immediately having two kids.

If you're wondering why she's now turned into a totally psycho party girl, there's an explanation. According to Girlfriend, Britney has finally realized that it's no point trying to do the smalltowngirl thing anymore coz she is now a divorced mother with two kids.

Her reputation back in Kentwood, Louisiana is in shreds and the Uncles and Aunties tongues and fingers would be wagging by now. So she's just given up and gone crazy - a smalltowngirl gone bad.

There's still hope for Britney though. Maybe if she finds a 'nice boy' and 'settles down' she might redeem herself in the eyes of the Kentwood-ians. You'd think she wouldn't care about what people think but I suspect she does because the truth is, you can take the girl out of the small town but you can't take the small town out of the girl!

Slipping over the hill

2007-03-14T13:02:00.000+08:00

I am freaking out right now!!! I'm very nearly Over The Hill!!!! It's alright when someone else is that sweet old lady, above, but it's not so funny when you realize that it's you!

I never knew this but a quick way to discover if you're officially an old person(other than pay attention to any grey hair on your head and if there are wrinkles appearing between your toes) is to fill up one of those online forms.

I'm sure you know which kind of form I'm talking about. They've got all these little 'drop down menus' which you can click 'n choose. For instance, if you're ordering something from Amazon, you have to click on the drop down menu to choose which country you want the books shipped to so Malaysia will be listed somewhere below Malawi but above Mozambique.

It's fine if all you have to do is to choose a country but what about the forms that require your birth date?

I am in the midst of filling one now. It's for Emirates and I normally cringe when it comes to forms but I heard that frequent flier miles gets you bumped up to first class. It was then a case of Lazy Trisha vs Diva Trisha and Diva Trisha won out. Lazy Trisha may not be willing to brave annoying online forms for a first class flight back to Kay-el but Diva Trisha sure is!

What I didn't bargain for is the fact that I have to now brave my imminent crossover into being well and truly old!

I clicked on the menu that listed birth years. When you click once, there are about 30 years listed beginning with 1991 going backward to the 60s. If you're born before the 60s you'll have to scroll down the menu. Otherwise you only have to click once and your year will appear straightaway (coz you'd be born within 30 years of 1991).

While I didn't have to scroll down the menu (thank goodness!) I noticed that I'm getting closer and closer to the bottom of that list! I tried to avoid it by not filling up that portion of the form but then an accusatory, horrible appeared "Enter the year of your birth!". Awful!

I don't smoke and and I'm not about to start now to ease this stress. After all there's only one thing worse than an old hag and that's an old hag with a fag in her mouth! So I'm going to chew on something sweet till I feel better.

Note to self: Never fill up online forms first thing in the morning because it's most probably going to ruin the rest of the day.

Culture and Cooking Rice

2007-03-11T13:53:00.000+08:00

I have never fully appreciated how truly wonderful a bowl of perfectly cooked rice is until I attempted to cook some myself - without a rice cooker. Arrgggh!

Ahh! The humble rice cooker. Who would've thought that an apparatus that can turn raw grains into fluffy rice would be one of the things I would miss most from Malaysia?
I've been struggling mightily ever since I arrived in Dar last May, to cook rice properly in a pot. The results have been vastly varied. I've produced:

1) Seriously burned rice.
This happened when I gave myself too much credit with being able to handle things in the kitchen. Instead of anxiously watching over the rice and boiling water as all novice cooks should, I would prance out of the kitchen, get caught up in yet another piece of scandalous celebrity gossip on E! and completely forget about the boiling rice. Eventually all the water would completely disappear and there'd be a hard black piece of charcoal-like object stuck to the bottom of the pot where the rice used to be. I'd only realize what I'd done when I smelled something burning and rushed through the smoky fog in the kitchen to turn the stove off. The rest of the afternoon would be spent trying, in vain, to scrub off burnt bits from the bottom of the now charcoal-black pot.

2) Undercooked rice.
This happened when I used to get overly anxious about the rice to the point of being paranoid. The rice would be barely cooked before I rushed to take it off the fire. Not a good idea because the rice grains wouldn't be cooked in the centre and have retained that awful chalky taste of uncooked rice. Unfortunately, it took me a while to tell that the rice was uncooked just by looking at it. I'd usually only realize when I started eating it and noticed The Engineer bravely trying not to spit out his mouthful. I'd then have to start all over again with the rice and pot rigmarole - tiresome!

3)Almost-right rice
I eventually got to the point where the rice was almost cooked perfect. After tons of trial, error and timing the whole process with a stopwatch (when all else fails, rely on science), I got it to a point where only the grains at the sides of the pot were not really cooked properly. This problem was minor enough for me to say like all bad workmen and their tools: "It's the pot- that's why the rice doesn't cook evenly!"

After a year of going through 1, 2 and 3, I decided on a whim that I should just call it quits and buy a cooker. So here is my beauuutifooool new rice cooker. Ta-dah!

The interesting thing is, my South African lady friends who sometimes eat rice at home, think I'm daft to be complaining about cooking rice in a pot. They'd been doing the rice- with- a -pot thing since they were little and are experts at getting it exactly right - I know cause I've sampled some. One of them even asked:"What's a rice cooker?" when I mentioned my recent purchase. I was shocked and so were they but for different reasons.

They couldn't believe that someone who has grown up eating rice at almost every meal would not know how to cook it without a cooker and I couldn't believe that some of them hadn't even heard of a rice cooker! The differences among cultures can be so so very fascinating - even if it's only about rice cookers!

Food Extremist

2007-03-05T18:12:00.000+08:00

It seems to me that I might be developing a really unhealthy relationship with food.

Immediately following my detox, I managed to maintain a semblance of healthy eating with lots of fruits and more vegetables than usual in my daily diet. Unfortunately, I have since fallen off the bandwagon and am now craving sweet, unhealthy desserts, sugar and fried stuff. Yikes!

I'm in the midst of trying to fight off this sudden onslaught and I must say I have not succeeded thus far.

It all started to go downhill when The Engineer and I dined at Dar Es Salaam's poshest restaurant on Saturday night. It was a long overdue wedding anniversary celebration. I would have survived if not for that dratted dessert.

It was this heavenly melted chilly chocolate with white chocolate balls dipped in coconut cream. Anyone who thinks chilly and chocolate don't go together have obviously not tasted the combination.

Since there were three large chocolate balls I couldn't eat all of it. Any dieter who knows what's good for them would have thought "to hell with world hunger, I'm not going to get fat just so as not to waste the food on my plate," and left well enough alone.

I, of course, did no such thing. I made the waiter pack up the two enormous white chocolate balls that were left on my plate and ate them the next day.

I've been regretting that decision ever since. I now feel like running out and buying tons of chocolate and eating it all till I'm sick.

I scrounged around my refrigerator and found a couple of bars of white chocolate just a moment ago. After hesitating for a full minute I ended up eating half a bar but hated myself the moment I put it into my mouth.

I really think I'm turning into some sort of food extremist. I'm either totally depriving myself or I'm stuffing my face. Looks like I'm either going to be a fat cow or shrink into oblivion.

Post Detox

2007-02-27T16:42:00.000+08:00

The Detox is finally over and I lost a grand total of....drrrrumrrroooolll.....2 kg! Alright, that's not much but it is nice to see that the scale moved after all that trouble.

I can't begin to describe how tired I am of eating raw fruits and vegetables. As Girlfriend pointed out, we're all close to 'carrot poisoning.'

However, post detox, a strange phenomenon has come to my attention. All of us who went on the diet now find it a little hard to eat stuff that's oily, buttery or sweet. How awful is that?!

The Engineer and I went for a big breakfast to celebrate after the last day of detox and found we could hardly eat any of our bacon, eggs and toast. It looked lovely, tasted absolutely delicious but we couldn't get it down our throats.

It is only then that we realized (with horror) that the detox had kind of changed our taste. Oily stuff just felt too 'heavy' and normally sweet coffee tasted like someone had dumped a factory of sugar into the cup.

It's been a few days now since we've been eating normal food so we're slowly regaining our taste for all those lovely, wonderful, absolutely unhealthy stuff (like triple chocolate brownies and spaghetti bolognaise).

Unfortunately, I tend to feel strangely guilty everytime I eat a little more than I should. I'm terrified that I'm going to turn into a vegan freak who's super thin but drives everyone crazy because she can't eat this or that.

I want to lose weight, not my social life! Besides, who wants to just eat this

and say no to this

for the rest of their lives?

So I've decided to take Buddha's advice and walk down the middle path - enjoy the food but not stuff my face.

Maybe if I had thought of doing this from the start, I wouldn't have had to endure the detox in the first place!

Single serves

2007-02-22T00:31:00.000+08:00

It has been a horrendously long time and if not for the fact that Trisha is my best friend, she might have written me very many nasty emails for abandong AAGW for so many months.

I have good excuses though! First was an incredibly massive work project.

Then my relationship came to a end *kaput* and I became - tada! - single again.

And so the last two months have been spent in the hedonistic fancies of running around and rediscovering what it means to be single. It has been fantastic enjoying that heady rush of Chasing Boys once again without that expectation of Relationships or Commitment or anything scary like that. Just pure, unadulterated fun fun fun.

Oddly enough though, there seems to be a sort of simultaneous a relationship avalanche around me and friends are dropping out of their relationships as quickly as flies. Friends are finding themselves newly single too, or seriously reconsidering the possibility of going separate ways. What did surprise me though, amidst my new found contentment and freeeeeee-ness, was the corresponding fear that everyone other one of my friends seemed to be going through at their sudden (or possible) singleness.

Girls and boys alike seemed terrified at the prospect of being alone again. For many, the weight of a tiresome and disconnected relationship is found to be preferable over being alone again. I asked everyone of them what was so bad about being alone (and then say, "Hey! Look at me! I'm doing alright, aren't I?") and almost always, they answer that they've been in a relationship for so long that they couldn't quite imagine functioning alone again.

I feel desperately sad that people allow themselves to be so consumed by the fear. I have to admit that a large of me was scared of the aloneness again, the not-being-able-to-find-someone-like-him again, but taking the plunge proved that it was much easier than I had anticipated.

Trisha once said to me, "You know, we always have these huge fears about things, but you'll always be alright! You'll SURVIVE! It's not like it's something that will kill you!" and though I wanted to wring her neck at the time, it is entirely true - we often forget how great life was before we even got into a relationship and how we were completely alright without anyone in our lives at the time. Sure, break ups take a bit of getting used to, but to be scared of them is only to underestimate our own strength and potential for living as best and as fun and as hedonistic as we can.

So I say, move on, move out, throw out his toothbrush and put on those new dancing shoes. The renewed lease of life is a startling change but it throws up many an unexpected surprise too. Henceforth, Trixie knows she's got the world at her feet and she's all ready to dance around them all! Stories of singledom to come soon.... that is if I have time admist all the new parties! Whhhheeeeee!

The Big Detox

2007-02-19T16:08:00.000+08:00

Why the heck do people put themselves through torture in the name of good health?

I'm asking myself this question coz right now I'm on this annoying detox diet which, no doubt, I shall regret being on in about a couple of hours. It consists of eating mostly raw vegetables, fruits and water. I feel a headache coming on just thinking about it!

Who wants to eat this:

When you can eat this:
I can't even look at that chocolate picture directly in case I cave and run out for some!!!

I'm pretty sure that it's all going to go downhill coz I suffer (read that Suffer!!!!) from low blood sugar and have to keep eating sweets to keep everything balanced. A good friend pointed out the other day that carbohydrates (such as crackers) will do a much better job than sweets in keeping my blood sugar levels up but who the heck wants a couple of crackers when you can have Lindt chocolate in the name of health?

Anyway, all that is out the window now that I've decided to go on this 7 day Detox which consists of living mainly on fruits (not bad), raw veges (worse) and parsley water (kill me - kill me now!!!)

I would consider quitting but there are others who are also on the same darn diet namely The Engineer, Boss and Girlfriend.

I wouldn’t know "where to put my face" if I failed while everyone else succeeded. I'm just praying that I'll notice some weight loss so I'll be inspired to keep going on this insane plan.

This thing better be worth it!

Valentine Sshmelentine

2007-02-13T16:13:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I don't know if it's because I'm old and bitter or just a realist (although I secretly think realist is just another word to describe those who are old and bitter) but Valentine's day has totally no meaning for me. This is a bit strange since I'm quite a girly girl and really love all things girly - except for that flowers, chocolate and candlelight dinner nonsense on Valentine's Day

I mean cupid, my ass! Someone should stick an arrow in his behind before taking it away from him altogether! That cherub has no idea how to pair people off when you think about the number of badly matched, unhappy and divorced couples running around!

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't always an unbeliever. When I was in school I used to wait in anticipation, from Jan 1, for February 14 hoping to receive a card or single red rose or something. This never happened.

It could be no one approached because I was considered to be one of the goody-goody ones who studied hard so everyone thought I wouldn't have time for Valentine's Day. It also could be that I went to a Convent school and there were no boys there.

Oh wait! A suppressed memory has resurfaced - I did receive a single red rose - once- when I was 14 and it scared the crap out of me because the card said that it was from my secret admirer and the person who gave it to me was - a girl!

I cried my eyes out when I got home because even though I wasn't too sure exactly what being gay entailed(we were rather backward back then), I was damn sure I didn't subscribe to it.

As it turned out, the girl claimed she just admired my ability to do well at school! I didn't get it. A simple - "Hey Trisha, congrats on being 2nd in class " would have sufficed. Instead she had to go buy me a rose? I tried to brush her off for the rest of the school year but she never did get the message ( I was kinda selfish and cruel in the old days). Thankfully, she found a new victim to hover over, after a while.

I eventually stopped waiting for cards and flowers and when they did finally arrive for me (when I was dating in uni), it seemed really childish and unnecessary. I wouldn't call myself unromantic but forking out hundreds of ringgit for a dinner and a bunch of roses which are going to be dead in a couple of days seems really foolish to me.

When I got married to another Valentine's Day realist it all kinda fit. There was that one time when we tried doing the candlelight dinner thing but since we'reValentine's Day novices, we didn't plan it in advance. Big mistake!

We ended up running all over town looking for a 'romantic' place that wasn't chock full of 'romantic couples' all squished shoulder to shoulder in the restaurant. I don't see how anyone can feel romantic when you and your partner are trying your best to ignore the 50 other couples in the restaurant who are eating (these places always offer a Valentine's set menu) exactly what you are!

Anyways, we finally gave up, took out some Happy Meals and ended up lighting a couple of candles and eating it at home. To date, I think it was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had!

Pole Pole Central

2007-02-07T17:15:00.000+08:00

Pole pole is swahili for slowly slowly and I've discovered that much like 'lepak' in Malaysia, pole pole is very much a part of the local Tanzanian culture. It should be on their flag.

Here's an example of pole pole in action:

I don't really employ a full-time maid over here but since I'm terrible at mopping and sweeping (am better at laundry and dishes), I got a local lady to help.

Now, I don't like people looking over my shoulder when I'm working so I hardly ever watch what Rose is doing when she's cleaning the house. I'm usually at the computer doing some writing or replying mail.

Yesterday, however, I wasn't feeling well and was relegated to the couch in front of the TV. I couldn't help but notice when she appeared in the living room armed with the mop. Previously, I had thought that I was the one who was the Queen of Slow Mopping

Henceforth, I shall step down from my reign and pass over that crown to Rose. I swear, I counted 1 to 5 between the time she pushed the mop left to when she pushed it right - all over the very same area on the floor! In other words, she took a full 10 seconds on just one small spot on the floor. This might not seem that bad but it is - trust me!Now I know why she never manages to finish the entire house in one morning...

I must admit she does a good job (anyone who takes that damn long on just one spot on the floor is at least doing a thorough job) but I think Rose is taking pole-pole a bit too far!

Needless to say, I shall be replacing Rose with someone who is not pole-pole but perhaps just pole. Hey, slowly has got to be better than slowly slowly, right?

You're So Cool!

2007-01-25T14:08:00.000+08:00

I've just discovered a solution for dealing with the male ego. Its what all of womankind has been seeking since the beginning of, well, time.

You need just three little words and you will forever be able to deal with your man and perhaps more importantly, his ego (for those of you who guessed those words to be "I love you" you really to read on since this shows that you have no clue how the male mind works!)

The three magical words are - drumroll please - "You're so cool". Before you scoff at my discovery, please hear me out.

Firstly, I learned about this from a very reliable source of information on the male psyche - a Quentin Tarantino movie. Tarantino, being a man himself (although this fact is up for debate since he looks like a cross between a man and a chimp to me) has written many a script which has been made into many a movie that seems to appeal to men on some kind of primal level and has them whooping and grunting with glee.

If you don't believe me, carry out this experiment:

1. Place a group of men in front of TV set (preferably men aged between 20 and 50, the ones below 20 aren't men yet and the ones above 50 have presumably gained some wisdom over the years and learned what we girls have known all along - Tarantino is an advocate of meaningless violence and should therefore be ignored)

2. Provide beers to each man making sure that the beer to man ration is at least 4:1 (this is to ensure that everyone is relaxed enough to display their feelings since we all know men need alcohol to help them along in this department!)

3.Play a Tarantino DVD (it doesn't matter which one but Reservoir Dogs and Natural Born Killers are good choices coz they're two of the most violent, I checked with The Engineer)

4. Sit back and watch them relish every moment of said movie. They'll inhale every word the foul-mouthed hero/anti hero has to say and savour every second as they watch a head literally roll while they nod their own heads in approval.

I can confidently comment on the above scenario because I have observed, more than once, that a Tarantino movie 'speaks' to a man the way no woman can!

Anyway, I was sort of dragged into watching yet another Tarantino blood fest the other day with The Engineer, The Boss and Girlfriend (who is Boss' wife). It was inappropriately called True Romance . I think True Violence or True Idiocy would have been more apt but hey - that's just me!

Anyway the words "You're so cool" were spoken by the movie's hapless heroine, Patricia Arquette a former prostitute who gets married to one of her clients, Christian Slater.

From what I could tell, Slater was running around the whole time doing really stupid things. He'd go ahead and try to beat up Arquette's pimp even though she's warned him that the pimp is dangerous and quite insane. Then he proceeds to take a large amount of dope that does not belong to him and manages to leave his driver's license at the scene of the crime. That is amazingly stupid but what does Arquette's character say? "That's so romantic" and "You're so cool"

Mind you, Slater's character falls in love with her a little more every single time she says it. Nevermind that his head is thrashed in and that they're running all over the country with some really dangerous criminals on their heels, thanks to Slater's stupidity.

Nevermind that Arquette's face gets all banged up in the process and that Slater's innocent father gets killed. All she says is "You're so cool" and he laps it up! It was absolutely incredible!

Perhaps the part that surprised me the most was when the movie ended and I said, in jest, "I think 'you're so cool' seems to be the answer to every relationship problem." Both the boys present heartily agreed and a discussion ensued as to how pointing out flaws in a man is never going to get a woman anywhere.

So, that's my legacy to all womankind. Whatever dim-witted decision or ridiculous mistake your man makes, ignore your immediate reaction and the first words that come to your mouth which is likely to be "I can't believe you did that, you nincompoop!" Say instead, "you're so cool" and watch the love grow in his eyes! Try it girlfriends. It works!

Death and Email

2007-01-19T15:45:00.000+08:00

I've been cleaning out my Yahoo email and here's my advice: It is NOT a good idea let your email accumalate from 2003 to 2007!

I was sitting at the same spot for nearly 5 hours trying to sift through over 1000 emails and now I can't feel my arms. Some emails had pictures and stuff so I had to go through all of them in case I trashed something important.

Frankly, I really don't see how I can possibly trash anything of importance since I obviously haven't missed it all this time. . I should have just trashed everything. What can I say? I was channelling Ms.Paranoia again!

During my exercise in futility, I had a rather morbid thought. What happens to someone's email when they die? I mean no one else can get into the account assuming that nobody knows the password. In other words if you have any important information or contacts on your email, it will be lost once you're dead. Unless Yahoo, Gmail and Hotmail provide special hacking services for the next of kin of the dearly departed.

Either that, or there are thousands of dead emails belonging to dead people floating around cyberspace. How eerie is that?

Okay, its official. I clearly have too much time on my hands!

Life Ain't Fair

2007-01-17T20:36:00.001+08:00

Although I've known this for my entire adult life (and about half of my teenage years), it's still a bitter pill to swallow - life isn't fair!

If you think I'm going to cite as an example, a promotion for which I was in line for but undeservedly went to some lazy punk who didn't know her arse from her elbow, you would be wrong (that really did happen by the way but that's not what I'm talking about here). I'm talking about something far more important - the Golden Globe Awards.

I am outraged! No - really!!!

Hellooowww people! Did anyone notice the Enormous Error that occured in the category for Best Performance for an Actor in a Musical/Comedy?

The winner was - Sacha Baron Cohen formerly known as Ali.G and currently known as the funniest man on the silver screen. I say pshawwww!!!!

Don't get me wrong. Borat is funny in a "I like to wash my face with water from the toilet bowl and pick my nose in public" kind of way. In other words, when it comes to comedy, Borat is to crass the way Frasier is to classy.

For those who know me, you know why this is especially a sting because Sacha won when he was up against my favourite actor of all time and one whom I believe takes the art of being a thespian to a whole other level, Johnny Depp (it also doesn't hurt that he's insanely good looking).

Johnny's not only brilliant in Pirates of the Carribean (and almost every other movie he's been in) he has the added advantage of having a face that inspires the audience to want to continue watching the movie as opposed to inspiring the audience to find the nearest loo to throw up in. Alright - maybe Sacha is more disgusting than ugly but you get my drift.

Sigh - what is the world coming to when Sacha Baron Cohen wins a Golden Globe for Borat, no less? Maybe I don't get some hidden artistic value to Borat but if I don't instantly see the artistic value of kissing your sister like she's your lover (his character did this in the movie), I probably never will.

If we can't win on the big issues (environment, animal extinction, world hunger) I would have thought that we could at least get it right on the frivolous ones.

It really is hard living in a world where this

is recognized and rewarded over this

Go figure!

Water and dust are not good bedfellows

2007-01-15T21:06:00.000+08:00

It really looks like rebuilding my Zen Bubble isn't going to be as easy as I thought!

Today some of the workers in the apartment building came over to fix a water heater for the kitchen tap. Before I carry on any further, let me tell you that:

1. I never asked for a water heater in the kitchen

2. I don't need a water heater in the kitchen and in fact

3. I actively don't want a water heater in the kitchen

Apparently, a demanding former tenant had insisted that the kitchen tap should provide hot water. The weird thing is that his demands are being met even though he has long since been asked to leave the building - go figure!

Anyways, the workers turn up and start working in the kitchen. Predictably, water splashed everywhere and since they had to use a drill under the sink tons of dust particles and bits of cement were strewn all over the floor. The water and dust mixture formed a ghastly paste which was further spread over the kitchen floor as the workers stepped on it and moved about...

I had stayed out of their way during their time in the kitchen and was blissfully unaware of the chaos until after they left. Grrrrrr!!!!

Since the maid is scheduled to arrive tomorrow, I've spent the better part of my afternoon in close personal contact with my broom and mop.

I suddenly long for the days when my editor used to breathe down my neck wanting to know if my article would be ready before the deadline.

Come to think of it as I hold this mop in my hand, his habit of interrupting my work by sending inter office messages ,every five minutes, actually seems quite charming now!

So much for expat living!

Rebuilding my Zen Bubble

2007-01-11T14:42:00.000+08:00

So sorry for the long silence guys - that is if anyone out there is still checking this blog!

The thing is I was away in KL for the whole of Dec and first week of Jan. Just got back to Dar and am dealing with a bitch of a jet lag. I'm also trying to get a handle of this disorienting feeling of coming home and homesickness at the same time!

The flight over was a looooooong one with a 7-hour transit in Dubai. That's right 7 hours!!!

The Engineer and I ended up sleeping on our bags like bums and I finally have empathy for all those poor souls who are caught in the 'purgatory' of Eternal Transit.

Right now, I'm feeling the effects of a month-long holiday that turned out to be about 100 times more hectic than my normal routine here.

I'm in the process of rebuilding my Zen Bubble (i.e cool, calm, inner peace invisible zone) and shall be back writing regularly again once I've 'gotten a grip" , so to speak

Hope you guys had a good holiday season and are not too miserable at having to go back to the same old same old. C u soon...

Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T13:28:00.000+08:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! Woo hoo!!!! Hope 2007 brings all things you wish for!

Trixie is off in Bangkok and I really got a scare last night when I heard about the bombs going off around the city. The worst part was when I tried to call herand couldn't get through. As the reigning Miss Paranoia I started to totally panic and then realized that the more I thought something bad had happened the more negativity I'd be lending to the situation.

At the end Trixie was her usual happy self and all was well.

It made me realize, all the more, that New Year is not about resolutions and parties (although those are really fun) but its about the people you love.

Its been said many times before but my New Year wish for all is Happiness, Health, Love and Laughter to all of you in 2007!

The end to one year, the beginning of another

2006-12-26T20:31:00.000+08:00

Oh my goodness. Here we (or rather, I) go again with forgetting and lapsing and neglecting. Have had an immense amount of work which dictated 15 hours by the computer everyday for what seemed like a very, very long time. I barely had time to scratch my bum, least of all think of something intelligent to say. But hey, the good news is that at least I'm learning to be a bit more productive to society.

And so anyway I celebrated the end of work with a wonderful, fabulous, totally blissful Christmas weekend doing absolutely NOTHING! Really, there is nothing more exciting than knowing that there is are two whole blank days ahead of you. And then to add the icing to the already amazing 10-tiered cake, you turn off your phone and lie in blissful, estactic quiet. zing!

So I am a very happy bunny and looking forward to the end of a very long, crazy, exhausting year.... and bring in the new! (Will be in Bangkok, dancing, and running around the markets hooray)

Hope you're all having as fab a festive season as we are (Trisha is having a good time despite her angst and frustration at the whole country) and have a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR! *blows party whistle*

Loving you is a dirty job....

2006-12-21T17:49:00.000+08:00

Call me simple but I have realized (since my last post and promises of writing more often) that 24-hour electricity is of no use when you do not have easy access to the internet!

Anyways, I am now at the Toyota Service Centre and spied an Internet Corner so I rushed over.

Since I arrived home two weeks ago I have realized that:

1. Citibank SUCKS! The people in there are RUDE and patronizing. Yes I know some people never pay their bills but Citibank should get a grip and learn the difference between the people who are avoiding payment and the ones who are simply overdue because of valid reasons (namely me!)

2. Maxis also sucks. There are about 3 people who actually know their job while the rest languish about giving you this line "that is our procedure". This is in answer to ANY question you may have. Plus they terminate your phone line when they promised to SUSPEND it!!!

3. Driving sucks. People are even worse than I remember six months ago. We were nearly run over twice in ten minutes because some idiots do not remember how to use indicators.

4. Working out sucks. If you haven't been going to the gym regularly you'll really suffer at the Fitness First step class. I can't feel my legs at this point!

I know, I know, I'm bitchin' and whinin' but despite everything, I'm STILL glad I'm back home.

KL - sometimes loving you is a dirty job but someone's got to do it!!!

Too Big For My Boobs

2006-12-16T19:56:00.000+08:00

I told you I'm going to write more regularly.... : )

Interestingly enough, despite the passage of time, some things have remained exactly the same in KL - for instance inept sales assistants are still alive and well! It seems that they're still adept at inadvertently insulting the ladies who dare to venture into the women's departments at the malls.

As proof, here's an account of my recent run-in with a typical sales girl at a Wacoal counter in Metrojaya

Me (holding up chosen brassiere): Can I have this one please?

Assistant Girl: You sure that one your size, ah?

Trisha: Yes, I just tried it on just now

AG (whipping out a tape measure): Wait, wait, lemme measure first…. I think that wan too big lah!

Trisha: No, its okay, I know my size…

AG (with a doubtful expression): Okay loh. You wan matching panty or not?

Me: Yes please. Can I have a medium, please?

AG (casting an all encompassing glance at me): I think you better take large lah!

Me: No, I want a medium

AG: No, large

This went on for a what felt like two hours but eventually the 'helpful' sales assistant decided that I wasn't going to give in and went prowling around for her next victim.

I would normally be ready to scream but I was so happy to be in the land of 24-hour electricity that even annoying sales girls cease to be annoying.

Some things never change… but despite the traffic jams and thuderstorms, annoying sales girls and lack of parking, KL is still home and there's no place like it!

Home

2006-12-16T19:42:00.000+08:00

The best thing about going away is coming home again. Yes, I'm baaaaccck in K-to-da-L! Woo hoo!

It was wonderful when we touched down after nearly 16 hours and heard the announcement "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have now landed in Kuala Lumpur." After 6 months in a foreign land, that was the best thing I'd heard in a long time!

Sorry about not writing for such a long time but I've been caught up in a frenzy of reconnecting phone lines etc.

Since I'm now in a land of 24-hour electricity, I suppose I have no excuse not to write : )

Confessions of a Virgin Camper

2006-12-05T22:02:00.000+08:00

Now I know I can survive anything and I mean a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g!!!!

Drumroll please….. I actually went camping. Yes, Diva Trisha went on a camping trip and did all that back to nature crap! It was proper camping , as in tents, as in insects, as in scorching, skin cancer-inducing sun and most importantly, as in no flushing loo. Plus, it was my birthday. Horror of horrors!!!

I had to pee in the sea and since it was just an overnight trip, I thought it'd be best to hold out (and hold in!) and not even think about the other reason we all visit toilets. It didn't bear contemplating!!!!

Don't ask me how I got talked into it by some of The Engineer's and my new, very outdoorsy South African friends. Trust me on this, the orang putih South Africans take outdoor activities Very Seriously just like every other orang putih. Think about it, have you ever seen anyone other than the mad Mat Sallehs cycling uphill around Bukit Damansara in the Dead Heat at 3 o'clock in the afternoon in KL?

Anyway, I'm getting diverted here….to make a long story short, I found myself on a small albeit absolutely gorgeous jewel of an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean last weekend.

Here are some of the pics:

This is sunrise on the island...
and this is sunset...

the blue tent in the background was home for a night...

Despite all that beauty surrounding me, I felt anything but beautiful myself. I was truly astonished when I managed to survive virtually unscathed although I'm now quite a few shades darker (my mum's gonna kill me - sorry Mumsie I used as much sunblock as humanly possible!).

The fascinating thing was, once I stopped worrying if my Revlon powder/base was going to melt in the heat (hey, I know you think I'm insane but a true Diva never leaves home without her trusty makeup case) and whether my face was dripping oil like pisang goreng straight out the tea lady's kuali, I actually found myself having loads of fun.

So, now that I've earned my stripes, I feel qualified to impart my knowledge to other unsuspecting/terrified Divas who are thinking about (or perhaps more accurately forced to go) camping.

So here are Trisha's Guidelines for a Diva's First Seaside Camping Trip:

1. Always tell everyone that its your first time camping. That way, they will be far more patient if you scare the daylights out of them when a jungle insect crawls up your arm/ leg and you scream bloody murder in the dead of night.

2. I can't stress this enough - sunblock, sunblock, sunblock and use it, use it, use it like its going out of style. It wouldn't do if you came back from the trip not tanned and sexy but red and with patches of painful, peeling skin. Make sure you use the water proof kind if you're going to frolic in the sea but be warned - it leaves an ugly, white paste when applied on wet skin. People were petrified and kids started crying when I suddenly turned up with what looked like white war paint on my sun-darkened face.

3. Take your mirror with you and quickly nip to the tent now and again to check your reflection. You will, therefore avoid my mistake (see rule no.2 ) and you will feel comfort from performing this familiar ritual although you may not be too happy with what you see in the mirror.

4. Take as much time as you want before the trip to select a couple of perfect bathing suits. These should show off your assets and hide the unsightly, wobbly bits. If you are booby-challenged, look for a top with tons of padding, if you suffer from the dreaded Tummy Wobble, look for a dark-coloured one piece that hides it. If you have neither of these worries, stop reading coz you have a perfect bod and I don't want to help you anymore.

5. Take a pack of scented wet wipes with you and make sure it is always within your reach. If you feel like you are beginning to smell unpleasant (and this is guaranteed to happen) grab a couple and wipe underarms and other unmentionable areas, liberally. Have an extra pack handy to share with other campers. They will forget your diva-like conduct and remember you as the generous sweetheart that you are.

6. Choose your camping companions very carefully. My Girlfriend who's gone camping many times before was an absolute dahling and gave up her very comfortable blow up mattress for me (thank you, sweetie!). You need to surround yourself with understanding, kind people like these. Above all, never, ever go camping with other first timers. It will be like the blind leading the blind with all of you Virgin Campers attempting to set up camp. It will not be a pretty sight (pun intended). I went along with experienced campers who set up camp, turned on the Ipod, set up the bar AND cooked all the food before I could say Coco Chanel!

Those are my words of wisdom. If all else fails, wear a wide-brimmed sun hat, get huge Nicole Richie type sun glasses and proceed to drink yourself into oblivion. That way, you'll be too drunk and happy to notice most of what's going on and the time will pass quickly.

All in all, I must say I had a good time on the trip. I was lucky that the people I went with were really fun-loving and non-judgmental. They didn't care how I looked or what I did as long as I was a good sport about it. They were also extremely good-natured when I stood around in the shade whining about the heat while they sweated buckets getting everything organised (thanks, guys!).

Would I do it again? Surprisingly, the answer is yes…now if only Ralph Lauren would come up with an air-conditioned, designer tent…..

Expat Wives

2006-11-28T19:40:00.000+08:00

People have often envied my position as the so-called expat wife. Even The Engineer has joked that he'd like to exchange places with me sometimes but being an expat wife is by no means as simple as it looks.

I've resigned from work in Malaysia twice in 6 years to join The Engineer overseas. The first time, especially, I was only too glad to do it. I was an engineer then and work was a total draaaagggg. So the moment I had the opportunity to compose the resignation letter, I was only too glad to throw it at my boss and make a run for the door. Besides, it seemed so romantic to give everything up for love.

However, the life of the expat wife, much like that of the air stewardess ( let's face it, they're glorified waitresses who also double as toilet cleaners) is not as glamorous or as easy as everyone presumes.

Firstly, an expat wife has to battle loneliness from the very beginning. There is that constant feeling that something doesn't quite fit - imagine Lindsay Lohan in a Teh Tarik competition and you'll get the idea.

The farther you are from home, the more likely you're going to feel cut off from everything and everyone that you know. This might have been challenging or even fun when you're away in college but does not hold true later in life.

The only person to cling to is your husband/boyfriend. However, he probably has other pressing things on his mind like how he's going to keep his job and get over the language barrier and/or alien work culture. So, he has neither the time nor the inclination to be very sympathetic when you ramble on about power cuts or bad plumbing.

Meanwhile, you're also struggling to get around the idea that you're not working and therefore have no money that belongs exclusively to you. Of course, most couples work out finances and share everything but there is nothing like seeing your own name on your own pay slip at the end of the month.

Then you have to start changing the way you think and start doing things that you would have previously labeled as unimportant or irrelevant. So, instead of meeting deadlines or balancing company accounts, you will find yourself thinking up ways to survive power cuts in the middle of sweltering afternoons, haggling with local grocery store owners despite the language barrier and trying to fend of malaria and other life-threatening/exotic diseases.

Then there is the issue of having to deal with the stigma that is attached to being an expat wife. This is much like the one that's attached to being a housewife (despite the women's movement claiming that its all about having choices, people still view the housewife as a lowly creature barely hanging on to the bottom rung on the Ladder of Liberated Women).

The only difference is that the expat wife is considered to be a housewife - with money. Therefore people see them as vacuous creatures who fill their vacuous lives gossiping over gourmet coffee and going for spa manicures.

I admit it. I was formerly one of those people. I felt a mixture of annoyance and envy when I contemplated the expat wives in Malaysia - a feeling that arose when I was barely making ends meet while they seemed to spend their time languishing beside their pools in their lavish Mont Kiara apartment buildings.

I have since revised my opinion. The recurrent theme in the life of an expat wife seems to be loneliness, homesickness or just sickness in general. There's always some malady or other that strangely afflicts only those with foreign blood eg unexplained stomach trouble or a stubborn strain of flu that never goes away entirely.

Besides, for me at least, having a large swimming pool and endless spa manicures do not replace meeting friends at the local mamak at 11pm or driving over to my mum's house for some home made curry or crying on my best girlfriend's shoulder when I need to.

Still, expat living isn't all bad. Nothing bonds total strangers the way living in a foreign country can. So you end up making some really good friends, really fast if you can manage to drag yourself out of your cloud of homesickness long enough to meet them.

So, now that I can empathise with the foreign ladies courageously living in foreign lands, here's a prayer I found for them and all those who brave life in an alien land for love...

Heavenly Father, look down on us your humble obedient expat wives who are doomed to travel this earth following our loved ones through their working lives to lands unknown. We beseech you, oh Lord, to see that our plane is not hijacked or doesn't crash, our luggage is not lost or pillaged and our overweight baggage goes unnoticed.

Give us this day divine guidance in our selection of houses, maids and drivers. We pray that the telephone works, the roof does not leak, the power cuts are few and the rats and cockroaches even fewer.

Lord, please lead us to good, inexpensive restaurants where wine is included in the meal and the food does not cause dysentery. Have mercy upon us Lord if it be the latter, make us fleet of foot, to make the loo in time, and strong of knee in case we have to squat. Also give us the wisdom to tip correctly in currencies we do not understand.

Make the locals love us Lord for who we are and not for what we can contribute to their worldly goods. Grant us the strength to smile at our maids, even though our most treasured dress resembles a rag or they take bleach to clean our well-admired Persian rug.

Give us divine patience when we explain for the hundredth time the way we want things done and Lord if we ever lose our patience and thump them, have mercy on us for our flesh is weak.

Dear God, protect us from so-called "bargains" we don't need and can't afford. Lead us not into temptation for we know not what we do.

Almighty Father, keep our husbands from looking at foreign women and comparing them to us. Save them from making fools of themselves in nightclubs. Above all, please do not forgive their trespasses for they know exactly what they do.

And when our expat years are over Lord, grant us the favor of finding someone who will look at our photographs and listen to our stories, so our lives as expat wives will not have been in vain.

Amen

Source: Unknown

Gold Diggers

2006-11-27T00:57:00.000+08:00

Remember Trisha’s posting/column about gold diggers? Well I got to thinking about it some more so I'm goin to vent my spleen about them.

The Boyfriend was talking recently about a friend’s sister he met. Within an hour of drinking at Luna Bar, he’d concluded that she was that “kind of girl who was in her early 40s, still single, but really only looking to marry someone with money.” I don’t know if the boy was just being perceptive (or jumping to conclusions) or if she really was that obviously frank about her chosen goals in life. In any case, it wouldn’t be that surprising if she was, now, would it? We all know the sort.

Granted, money is important – no matter how much you think money won’t make any difference because “love conquers all” blah blah blah, it can, and does in the long run. But I did start thinking about how sorry and sad it must be for girls whose primary criterion for a husband/partner/boyfriend was money. I wonder if this really makes them happy, this continuous, ardent, illusive, search for constant, unchanging abundance of money.

I have an Uncle who, when he was 39 married a girl (I call her Aunty M) who was 19. He was very rich then, and the whole family knew he made profuse promises to her that once they were married, she would spend the rest of her life in luxury and have everything she wanted. The smell of money must have been too overwhelming, so Aunty M left everything behind, ditched her family, left her job, moved country and set up shop here.

A few years later, stupid Uncle lost all his money in the stock market (stupid bugger) so now he couldn’t fulfil all those monetary promises to Aunty M. She got very upset and very depressed and whined and whined to my mother about how she wished she could have overseas holidays, and expensive meals, and a nice car, and branded handbags and international school options for her kids. She also told my mother how she has decided she must get close to another of the rich aunties because, “she has the money.” She was obviously also too dim witted to understand just how unsubtle she was being in her show of greed and obsession.

14 years on, she’s got 3 kids under the age of 12 and she’s no less miserable about the sorry state of financial affairs she’s gotten herself into. Not to mention the fat, stingey toad of my Uncle that she has to put up with, three monster children, no qualifications and having to live in Klang.

So perhaps you think me a heartless bitch for making such a mockery of her, but really now, I have little sympathy for people who are so obviously marrying for money. Sure, I understand people come from difficult backgrounds and they are looking only for security… but security (living extravagantly, even!) can be got individually, through a girl’s own hard work, intelligence and guts.

To me, gold digging stands for a life that centres itself entirely and only around the lazy securing of luxury and comfort for oneself, and signals nothing less than just how small-minded and unimaginative the girl really is. It isn’t just about the money – it’s the whole complacent, boring, unmotivated, self-absorbed attitude and utterly useless indulgence that drives my entire disdain for these sorts.

And see, what they forget to tell these girls in money school is this single, key fact: you can’t your money with you when you die (and let’s face it, every day you’re getting closer to it!). In the case of Aunty M, all the money disappeared even before she’d hit her mid-twenties so she also got the bonus life (and spiritual) lesson of impermanence. So isn’t it just that little bit sad then, that their whole life strives towards
a
big
fat
nothing?

It doesn’t work to say that surrounding yourself with money is a way of making the most of this life and really living it up – if you’re doing it on someone else’s money then you can’t really say you’ve really achieved anything for yourself. Totting up the total spent on jewels and clothes and overseas holidays doesn’t count because nobody cares, because you’ve made absolutely no difference to anyone in the world! (And so does this mean you yourself end up being a
big
fat
nothing
also?

I certainly couldn’t do it - no amount of cash could possibly make up for the painful blah of having to put up with an gargoyle for the rest of my days. And in any case, I’d like to think I could make my own way in the world, without resorting to marriage as a convenient solution!

PS I do know girls who’ve married into money in a HUGE WAY but the dosh is incidental, and they’ve used the money for hugely beneficial works in charity and giving back to the community. They live with the attitude, “Well, if I’ve got all this cash, might as well share it!” and they splash it around on the rest of the world as if money were free. They are totally admirable for what they are able to accomplish from the money they land into… which makes the gold diggers look all the more ridiculous with the way they’re living.

FUCK

2006-11-24T23:53:00.000+08:00

I just wrote a massive blog entry (after a terrible absence) and the whole thing got deleted.

ARG.

THIS is why you must save your work.

See, it's all just so Thomas Hardy, isn't it - how the world is sometimes just a big fat laugh-in-your-face joke on us. Like, when I want to write a blog entry, it won't let me. And when I actually want to work, my laptop totally dies (all my files are inside) and my Internet modem got fried by lightning. And when I want to go swimming, it starts thunderstorming (and swimming while raining is gross. And the day I decide to finally go on my diet, an enormous cheesecake spontaneously appears in the fridge.

The world's irony has got my by the ovaries.

Too damn fed up to re-write the post now. pfft.

Back to the Gym

2006-11-21T22:26:00.000+08:00

I just got back from the gym and feel so rejuvenated that I feel I have to write about it while its all still fresh in my mind.

To begin with, I never realized how much I missed going for classes but I should set the record straight. I'm not one of those who is out to bench press a Kelisa. I have no intention of achieving this look....

I mean, yikes!!!!. I'm more into this look….

Its the reason why I force my butt off the couch and into the gym, even though the one I attend here, in Dar, is not exactly what you would call 'a state of the art establishment'

Admittedly, the place is a little shabbier than Fitness First (alright, a lot shabbier). The wall to wall glass is cracked in some places and the steppers look like they have seen better days.

I thought I would hyperventilate when I noticed there was no air conditioning. A 3pm class in Dar es Salaam without air conditioning would be like working out on inside a sauna, in the middle of the Gobi Desert. Fortunately, they did have fans which turned out to be suprisingly effective.

The thing that really grabbed my attention was how small and personalised the class was and there was none of that strutting about and posing that you get in most fitness centers in KL. Remember I wrote about this before?

(Before you gym bunnies get all hot and bothered around your bunny ears, let me just say that strutting and posing is all well and good for some people but its just not for me. So let's just make peace that we have a difference of opinion and leave it at that, okay?)

I just didn't realize what bad shape I'm in right now. Today's class was -horror of horrors - Step. Now, don't get me wrong, Step is just great mainly because it really, really buuurrrnsss the fat away but boy is it tough when you're out of shape.

If Step classes were comparable to a school system, today's class would be kindergarten (as opposed to the ones in KL which are generally somewhere near Ph.D level).

But I still huffed and puffed through the class and had to drink copious amounts of water every now and again just so that I would have an excuse to stop for a few minutes! That's one of the problems of a small class, everyone notices if you're a weakling and unable to keep up with the rest!

I'm going back for more torture later this week, despite my weak state. If you don't see any entries for some time, I probably collapsed in the kindergarten-level Step class and am recuperating somewhere. Hope that doesn't happen though…think of the shame!

I think I killed Botha!

2006-11-16T23:13:00.000+08:00

I forgot to tell you guys about this one. Remember my trip to South Africa? Well, I was walking along inside the apartheid museum when I happened upon a picture of former President of South Africa, P.W Botha.

You can click on this if you want to know the role he played during the apartheid years in SA

I asked Girlfriend, who is Africkaner, what happened to Botha and she replied that he's alive and living somewhere in South Africa. Without thinking, I blurted out " After all that he's done, I can't believe he's still alive and living here!"

Well the very next day, we're walking merrily along in a shopping mall when we chanced upon this headline….(btw Groot Krokodil was his nickname and it means Great Crocodile in the Afrikaans language)

The instant we saw it, Girlfriend and I remembered what I had said the day before. For some reason, we just couldn't stop laughing (although my laughter was tinged with a bit of horror).

It was almost as if the old man keeled over and died just because I said so (despite my personal opinion of him, which was not good, I didn't want to KILL the guy!). He had lived through riots and hundreds of other life or death situations but it looks like he didn't bargain for Trisha and her big mouth!

Deciding to put my newly discovered powers to good use, I kept chanting "we're going to win the lottery" the rest of the day but I'm sorry to report that we had no luck. It could have been that I had used up my powers on poor Botha but I rather think it was because we didn't buy a lottery ticket.

Either way, I haven't given up yet. Now I've taken to chanting "I'm going to be a published author" and "I can eat as much chocolate as I want and never gain a kilogram."

I'll keep you posted on the former coz it hasn't worked on the latter!

Listen...can you keep a secret?

2006-11-15T05:41:00.000+08:00

I think one of the most ridiculous questions to ask someone is: "Can you keep a secret?" Other just-as-ridiculous questions/statements related to secrets include, "Don't tell ANYONE, okay? and of course the ever popular but totally ineffective, "Okay, I'm going to tell you something but you've got to promise not to tell anyone. Promise!"

Isn't that stupid? Has anyone EVER said "uh, no, I can't keep a secret so please don't tell me?" Either you take the risk, tell your secret and get on with it or you just keep your mouth shut.

To be honest, though, I have been on the receiving AND giving end of the question.

Each time I ever asked that question, it was to assuage my guilt that at the very least, I had asked the person if they could actually keep the secret a secret. Besides, if the thing ever got out, I could always go back to the one I had spilled to and say accusingly, "Hellow….I thought you said you could keep a secret! Pshh!!!" Evil - I know!

Then there's the occasion when I've had someone ask me and inevitably replied, "Of course, what do you take me for?" without meaning a word of it. This has landed me in a world of trouble.

Like that time in uni, when a friend of mine asked me that exact question and in typical Trisha fashion, I blabbered yes…eager to hear what she had to say only to realize that the secret was about me.

Apparently, this guy, who we all thought was super cute, had confided to her that he'd never go out with me coz, "She's too immature." "What?!!" I screamed at my friend, how can you tell me to keep this a secret, I'm going to confront him RIGHT NOW!"

The poor girl pleaded with me not to as he had told her in strictest confidence. I suppose she didn't want to "lose her standing" with this guy ( I bet he started telling her with the standard stupid line "Promise you're not going to tell ANYONE, especially not Trisha!).

Anyway, I thought about it for, like 5 minutes, then decided that her standing with Cute Guy was not a good enough reason for me to not confront him about it.

To make a long, story short, I marched right up to Cute Guy and practically yelled in his ear, "I am SO not immature. How could you say that!"

In one quick move, I managed to ruin my friend's trust in me and prove Cute Guy right with respect to my maturity - that was NOT a mature move at all!!!

Anyways, I have (hopefully) matured since then but I have to admit that my ability to keep a secret still remains 50-50. It all depends on whose telling me and what its about.

So here's my unasked-for-advice, people - The next time you ask "can you keep a secret?" remember, its DEFINITELY a rhetorical question!

Civilisation - woo hoo!

2006-11-09T16:32:00.000+08:00

Looks like Trixie and Trisha have been traipsing round a couple of continents. As you know, Trixie just got back from Gay Paree. I myself have just got back from South Africa and it may as well have been Jupiter as far as similarities go between Tanzania and SA.

I've been trying to convince myself that its always good for a city girl like me to get away from "bright lights, big city" and get in touch with the more natural things the world has to offer (fyi - for a diva like me, anyplace without shops and/or proper nail salons, qualifies as a natural environment)

Anyways, since Dar es Salaam in Tanzania not only lacks shops but basic amenities like 24-hour electricity, I thought it would be a good time as any to practice getting back to 'nature'. I even convinced myself, while I've been here in the backwater, that I was actually not missing the city - until I landed in Johannesburg, South Africa.

I almost got down on my knees and kissed the smooth, shiny, black, tar that covered the roads. That was how glad I was to sit in a vehicle that could run smoothly and where I wouldn't run the risk of having my teeth rattled out of my skull. One never misses tar-ed roads till they're gone, let me tell you guys!

Anyways, a good South African girlfriend of mine (who's also currently based in Tanzania coz her husband works with The Engineer) was with me for the entire week so I had a true-blue South African to show me the sights and we sure had a good time!

During the trip, I experienced a couple of firsts - first time I ever saw a jacaranda tree…they line the streets of Pretoria (suburb of Jo'berg) and are absolutely gorgeous:

First time I ever rode on a big roller coaster (aptly named the Anaconda coz it snakes in every direction)…..

Girlfriend and I decided that we're getting a bit old for these rides coz we had wobbly legs and wobbly tummies after the ride. I nearly chickened out from getting on in the first place but decided that I'll regret it forever if I didn't give it a shot.

Let me give you a piece of advice though - NEVER ride on a roller coaster after watching Final Destination 4! I could imagine a screw going loose somewhere and all of us plummeting to our deaths the entire time I was on it (as if hanging upside down and screaming my lungs out till I lost my voice wasn't bad enough)!!!! Despite everything, I'd do it again though!

It was also the first time I ever touched lion cubs - yep, actually touched them! They're SUPER CUTE. Just like normal kitties except they're the size of a child's tricycle at only 5 months. Here are a couple of them lolling about in the sun….

We dropped by at the Apartheid museum which was a somber experience. They actually hand out tickets at the gate marked "Whites Only" or "Non Whites" so Girlfriend and I had to enter separately although we eventually ended up in the same place. That'll really give you a taste of what it was like before 1994 in SA. The museum was built like a dark, dingy prison…

Other than that, we just went from one shopping mall to another which was FABULOUS for little 'ol me who has endured months and months living in a Land of No Shopping. Everyone in SA seemed really well dressed after the sloppiness of Tanzania and I felt like a cavewoman, acutely aware that I hadn't been to a facial or hair salon for close to 6 months - yech!

But cavewoman or no cavewoman, I sure am glad that I got a peek at civilisation after nearly 6 months in the cave!

Bambi

2006-11-06T23:32:00.000+08:00

Okay, so here's something that totally threw me today.

I was chatting away to a friend online about The Desirable Colleague and he starts telling me that he's seen the way we interact.

Apparently an expert on body language he started outlining how I would stand slightly leant backwards and away, and The Colleague would stand all straight with his chest puffed up like Superman.

I was all, "Eeeww so mars and venus."

THEN he starts telling me all about my flirt technique. "You're like Bambi."

So I said, "Yuck. The only thing I think of when I think of Bambi is this dumb, clumsy deer who's all legs and falling everywhere."

He said, "Yah, but consider how clumsy you get when you're flirting."

I was thinking, gee, is that supposed to be a compliment, an insult, an objective observation? What? Good think this was all online, or I may have smacked him. I said, "errrrr okay, that's not very nice."

"Yah, but it's endearing, mah! You're like a banshee in bambi's clothing."

Fabulous. Not only am I a clumsy, dopey adolescent deer, but also a type of screeching, scary monster.

But anyway the insults are not what threw me. With this friend, you kind of get used to it - you learn to accept it as some kind of twisted truth. What did throw me was the fact that somebody actually saw me as being Bambi in the first place.

The whole endearing, shy girly-girl thing is so not me and I can't bear girls who do the giggling, and hair curling and gentle shoving. blek. And then, it seems, I am not far off. Not as bad but still, carrying some or any of those traits is frightening enough. Scary, that even the most independent of Independent Girls can, apparently turn all doe-eyed and ridiculous.

I was turning into one of them. Arg.

Ah but then, what's a girl to do when she has a silly infatuation? Surely, half the fun is in the theatrics and grand gestures and acting up? I just didn't quite think it'd be as bad as being Bambi.

Being pretty

2006-11-03T18:28:00.000+08:00

Sorry for not writing in ages but this time I actually have an excuse that doesn’t have anything to do with me being disorganised and lazy.

I’ve been in Paris!!!!

(With the desirable colleague, hurray)

We were there on work which meant stress and worry a lot of the time, but we did end up having a free day to romp about the streets of Paris (with the desirable colleague, hurray). Here are fabulous, lovely, gorgeous photos of a city that far outdoes any in the world.

Les Deux Maggots, a pretty little cafe on the left bank where the likes of Satre hung out back in the day!

La Tour Eiffel! Comme c'est belle!

Pretty Parisien streets along the left bank. (bad dreary weather though)

Le Louvre! (And no, it isn't just famous because of a certain book)

It was a total hoot running around with four other Chinese people, eating until food came out of our ears. I dug up what French I remembered from A levels – enough apparently to impress the diners at the next table so that they kept staring at me, a strange looking Chinese girl ordering lunch for four. Hurray, all those French lessons avec Mme Mazeyrac in school were well worth it.

Funny though, how so much of the city runs like you’re in Malaysia. Time is very elastic there (as it is here), and road signs are a nightmare. You know how it is when you’re following a sign here, and then when you get to a crucial fork in the road, the bloody sign disappears? Just the same in Paris. The only advantage they have is that the streets are so very pretty you don’t mind getting lost.

Even Carrefour is exciting there. Our crappy version here isn’t a patch on the wonder that is Carrefour in France (well it better be good, considering it’s from there). You don’t think a supermarket could be that exciting until you go to Carrefour in France. Their chocolate aisle is like you’d died, gone to heaven, and booked yourself the most fabulous place next to the most fabulous angels with the most fabulous access to God (and I’m not even Christian). I think I must have spent about half an hour just staring at the chocolates. It was the biggest quandary I’ve ever been in – WHICH BARS OF CHOCOLATE TO BUY? I ended up with about 20 bars so half my luggage weight was from bars of cocoa and milk.

And because Paris is the way it is, even the desirable colleague loosened up and stopped talking about work for about two seconds. How very exciting for a dizzy romantic like me.

Then, as if through some weird psychic connection with Trisha’s last post, he started up some conversation about how he likes girls that are soft spoken and gentle. Independent, but not too independent so that, “they know when to be obedient.” I was like WHAT? And then, eeeeeeeewwwwwww! Obviously a far cry from loud-mouthed, gobby girls like me who never really know when to behave. Really, now, do men actually still use words like “obedient” to describe their partner of choice? Geez Louise. No matter how far exposed they are, how educated they are, how forward thinking they think they are, it seems men really do still prefer their girls to resemble pretty mantelpieces (i.e. to look at and which don’t say much). Bah.

I gave the colleague a great deal of shit for that the rest of the evening which probably just reiterated the point that I’m not ever going to be soft, gentle and ladylike. But I like it that way!

In any case, I was in France, and things were happy. Simple pleasures can, for a moment quell even the angst of my agitated feminist ragings!

I've got the brains, you've got the looks.....

2006-10-26T17:23:00.000+08:00

"Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses (and who are smart)" - at some level, we women believe that most men don't dig chicks with big brains.

Big boobs, definitely, big brains - big question as to whether he'll stay or go.

It has to be true. Let's face it, why else would there be all that hoopla surrounding the size of a set of mammary glands? I sincerely doubt that women want a pair of 'perfect' breasts just so they can stand in front of the mirror admiring their own bustline. Surgery and silicone is ultimately for the attention gained from the opposite sex.

Big brains on the other hand can spell big trouble in the romance department of life. Something about smart, powerful women tends to put the average man off. They seem to prefer their women with a double D cup size but brains powered by a triple A battery - and if the battery ever dies, well, no harm done!

Men who appreciate women with brains do exist, though. After all, the fact that I know Barrack Obama is not a rare kind of coffee bean you can purchase at Starbucks but an African American senator whispered to be in the next US presidential race inspires rather than intimidates The Engineer.

But from what I know from my girlfriends and from my own unfortunate past, men like these are few and far between.
I know girlfriends who experienced a decline in dates, directly in proportion with their climb up the corporate ladder.

An ex of mine told me that he was dating me 'for my looks' and 'leave the thinking' to him. In fact, he used to sing that line from the 80s Pet Shop Boys song all the time "I've got the brains, you've got the looks, let's make lots of money."

It took me a while (I was like 20 then) but I eventually realized that "I've got the brains, I've got the looks and I'll make lots of money myself, thank you very much". Needless to say, I dumped him, grew up, adopted Destiny's Child "Independent Women" as my theme song and haven't looked back since. No regrets.

But to those girls who've adopted the 'blonde' act to get and keep their men - far from condemning you I say, more power to you. I think letting a man think you're stupid when you're actually smart involves a lot more brain power than most people realize.

So to all the women who're Independent or Not, Big Boobs, Big Brains or both - as Destiny's Child says it -throw your hands up at me!

Ugly boys

2006-10-22T13:59:00.000+08:00

I have this fairly shaming confession: I find the Chinese boys from Imbi Plaza really cute.

I had my fair share of SPG days at uni when I fell in lust with all manner of blond-haired, blue-eyed boys. What to do? I was in a university where there were only about two Asian people, of which I was one. Naturally, you'd start to find even the whitetest of white boys pretty hot after awhile.

So I came back to KL and hurray, suddenly found it totally exciting to see Chinese boys again.

I’m not really the sort to like the tall, dark, handsome sort. I prefer my boys to be about my height (“too short” as all my friends like to point out). And there’s something just so endearing about the way the Imbi Plaza boys are so damn nice. Okay, so I know they just want to sell me stuff, but it’s amazing enough that they put up with my crap Cantonese and answer alllllll my questions (there are many, as I’m a techno moron) and give me these big toothy grins all the way, and reassure me that I can come back if there's ever any problem, and tell me that my Cantonese isn't actually that bad. It's so nice! (and I'm a sucker for flattery).

I rang Trisha one day and said, “Hey, I’ve just been to Imbi and you know what? I think the guys there are cute!”

She sighed very loudly and then, “Aiyoooooo, it’s because they’re all short and ugly and demented lah, right?”

The sick thing is that she’s right.

I used to really fancy this guy from work, who Trisha also knew. She said he looked like a goblin and would get totally disgusted and fed up when I talked about him. In fact, all my friends find my taste in my pretty terrible (which is good, as I’ll never, ever have that problem of fighting with friends over a guy).

When I started going out with my current boyfriend, I was shocked that everyone around me approved and actually found him hot too. (They were totally shocked too – they never thought it possible that I’d like somebody who was actually good looking).

In defence of my terrible taste, I must explain this strange obsession: you see, it’s not just a matter of my falling in lust with any old Ah Beng (the ugly peroxide streaks, gold rings and long fingernails are a total no-no).

The Imbi boys are perhaps more of a passing fancy, something just for fun. The (supposedly ugly) guys I seem to find really attractive usually come with the added package of some particularly fascinating talent. See, they’re ugly, but they’re talented, or incredibly intelligent. And we all know that the brain can be one of the most erotic body parts.

There’s this guy I know that I used to think was all “Ewwwww” and when I found out that some friends were trying to matchmake us, I panicked and screamed.

Then I discovered that he was a photographer (but a very low profile one, as he seems the quiet sort to just get on and do his own thing). And then I saw his photographs and they are JUST.SO.SEXY. So, suddenly, he became sexy too. And now everytime I see him, I see his fabulous photos and get totally turned on.

The goblin that Trisha can't stand writes SO.DAMN.SEXILY. Even though he does look like he could give Quasimodo a run for his money, he's just so clever, he edits all my work so it sounds more fabulous that I could ever make it, and he writes these totally fantastic pieces that make me salivate.

It’s just so perverse, isn’t it?

Trisha (and most other people) thinks I need help… or that at the very least I should just concentrate on looking at my boyfriend, instead of perving on ugly boys. Hah.

Million Dollar Mistake

2006-10-19T19:03:00.000+08:00

I've been feeling kind of ill for the past few days hence the lack of entries on my part. At first I thought it was malaria but I don't think it is - otherwise I'd be dead by now!

I was all set to curl up on the sofa and feel sorry for myself when I saw this piece of news and I was inspired to spread the word: no matter how silly you think you are, there's always someone sillier than you.

Right now this guy must feel like the biggest buffoon on Earth:

That's American casino mogul, Steve Wynn, who was all set to sell his original Picasso, the famous Dream, to an art collector for USD139million.

That was before he poked a hole in it - with his elbow! If I'd done that, I'd have broken my arm just so I could hit myself with it!

The guy was gesturing with his hands while showing it to some friends and accidentally elbowed it. Now there's a hole in it and the deal is off. Steve apparently suffers from some kind of eye problem that affects his peripheral vision.

He's being philosophical about it though. He's taking it as a sign that he's supposed to keep the painting.

You're fooling no one, Steve. We all know you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who'll pay RM5 for it now!

I think this is the best feel-good story I've heard in a long time.

I remember all those times when I've bought a top or something at Dorothy Perkins, paid full price for it and gone back the next day only to find it on sale.

It generally takes a while for me to get over losing RM50 or whatever but now my bargain blunders don't seem so bad anymore.

At least I didn't poke a hole in my priceless Picasso!

Chaos

2006-10-16T00:24:00.000+08:00

This is the first day in absolutely bloody ages that I've actually had time to sit down, eat chips at my own leisure and blog. What luxury! It's been a totally chaotic week - sleep whenever, wake up whenever, run here, run there, sit at my computer all doing work while waiting further instruction for more running here, running there, more work, more exhaustion.

But it' s been the most fun I've had in ages!

Which got me thinking about how everything's more fun when it's a mess and when nothing is ever in order.

Like sex is always more fun when it's messy, isn't it?
Parties are more fun when they're chaotic.
Gorgeously messed up looking rooms reveal so much more character than staid, tidy, anal, stainless-steel everything rooms.

I knew people who totally despised the girls on Sex and the City because they claimed real people wouldn't look so ridiculously immaculate and perfect all the time. I was appalled at the time - how dare they say anything against my favourite four TV people.

But then it does kind of make sense. I started to realise that some of the most beautiful people I knew looked like they'd just stepped out of a gypsy ring - enviably dishevelled hair (the real kind, not the sort that salons deliberately try to achieve with lashings of hair product), scuffed shoes, absolutely no makeup, and a wardrobe that was so outdated it was back in fashion again (without even trying to be so).

They were messy people, but they were also the sort of people who were really passionate about eating big, happy, full meals (none of that tiny-portion and zone diet nonsense). You know they'd also be messy- but-fantastic sex people, and the sort that would be far more likely to take a risk than the prim, immaculate, proper girls.

My friends organised a garage sale for charity recently so I made cupcakes for sale. I was up to my ears in icing all day long and still couldn't make them perfect. It was a sorry little attempt to be a baking genuis but the cakes ended up looking a little wonky, some were dropping out of their paper cases and the most creative thing I could get was chuck on some sprinkles and stick a cherry on the top.

Then I turned up at the garage sale and someone else had bought over these magnificent looking, perfect, gorgeously decorated, tidy, not-falling-out-of-their-cases cupcakes. It made my poor clumsy cupcakes look very awkward and second class.

But hot damn, MINE KICKED ARSE in the taste department and everybody said so, so neh neh neh neh to the tidy Heidis. The chaos was all worth it.

[There's a distinction to be made between this sort of messy-chic and plain old slobbiness. The latter is never attractive - it usually also signals some sort grave personal hygiene problem/deficiency, and a total lack of responsibility to themselves, their work and people around them.]

Being "messy" or living life chaotically cannot be learned. It's something that just sort of "is." The beautiful messy people I know with their beautifully chaotic lives can never be emulated. It would never work to try to be them. The point about these people, the way they do things, their lives, and the things they produce is the spontaneity that comes with it, their refusal to waste precious time perfecting false eyelashes and rebonding their hair.

It is the carefreeness that appeals, and the surprises that are thrown up by living this way that makes it so exciting...

... which is exactly what has made crazy, chaotic, exhausting week such mad fun!

Pluto....you're fired!

2006-10-12T17:02:00.000+08:00

Did you know that Pluto is no longer a planet? More importantly, do you really care?

Well, just in case you do you can click on this link. Pluto is now known as a dwarf planet. In other words, our solar system is currently home to only 8 planets.

I'm not that into astronomy myself, so from a personal standpoint, this nugget of information is only mildly fascinating to me. On the other hand, I find the absurdity of the entire debacle is far more captivating.

Thousands of scientists/researchers/ astronomers got together a couple of months back to engage in a lengthy debate on the status of Pluto - a planet that is so far away that it might as well be a figment of the imagination. These scientists heads are, literally, in the clouds.

Meanwhile, back in our own backyard, troubles never cease and are, in fact, multiplying. Hundreds of animals are on the endangered list and the global warming issue is at boiling point. Nuclear threat is alive and well and there is still no cure for Aids or cancer.

Air travel is now so complicated that its almost comical. It has come to the point where we girls can't carry lipsticks on board an aircraft. I suppose this is just in case we use Estee Lauder's Danger (it might signify our intentions) or Lancome's Invincible Platinum (perhaps they think it might actually be Invincible Plutonium) to blow up the plane.

All this is going on and our scientists are sitting around squabbling about whether Pluto should be a dwarf planet or not.

Time and money well spent? Not!

I say, let's mind the business of our own planet before sticking our collective noses into Pluto's.

I believe more people are going to care about this Pluto

as opposed to this one anyway!

The kids are the only Earthlings who're going to benefit from this fiasco. From now on, they'll only have to remember 8 names instead of 9 when they learn about the solar system

Hmmm... if they were going to demote Pluto, why didn't they do it when I was still in school?

Happiness Is..

2006-10-10T16:51:00.000+08:00

I was feeling philosophical the other day and this thought popped into my head: happiness, what is it?

Is it...

Waking up on the first morning of a holiday and catching a glimpse of a perfect ocean through your bedroom window?

Gazing at a loved one over the flicker of a single candle?
Cuddling a kitten you just saved from an awful life on the street?
Watching your mother smile as she opens her Mother's Day gift from you and finds exactly what she wants?

Or is it....

Spending an all expenses week at the Burg Al Arab in Dubai (ensconced in their most opulent suite, sipping champagne and eating nasi lemak on silverware)

"The Burg is reportedly the most luxurious hotel in the world"

Having money that rivals the trust funds of Paris and Nikki Hilton combined?
24-hour electricity, plasma TV and 200 24-hour channels to watch?
Driving a Ferrari/Lamborghini/Porshe (fill in the blank) on the section of the Autobahn in Germany where the speed limit doesn't exist?

Or is it that we want every single one of those things on those lists and that's why we're never really happy for long?

Happiness is...someone to love, work to do and a clear conscience - I read that when I was a kid (It was engraved on plaque I received as a souvenir for performing the James Bond Theme on the organ. It was for a Christmas concert at my Yamaha music school- but that's a whole other story!)

While I've never forgotten those words, I find it really hard to remember them when I really, really need to!

Maybe happiness is elusive because we make it so. Maybe I should remember the time when performing the James Bond theme and receiving a souvenir for it was enough to make me happy - no matter how uncool it was!

Poor old Trisha

2006-10-09T10:46:00.000+08:00

I know this is totally evil of me and she is going to really hit me with her giant heavy handbag when she gets back, but I actually find poor old Trisha’s lack of electricity thing quite funny (so many of you dear readers are gonna hate me for this too aren’t you?)

I mean, I feel really shitty for her too because I couldn’t last half an hour without electricity, but just thinking of gorgeous, darling, diva Trisha stuck in a place that schedules power outages is so ironic and tragic, it’s almost quite funny. (Also it's slightly irritating knowing that she can breathe in fresh air, so she won't need the air conditioning anyway - haze is just too awful over here at the moment and she sure dunno how lucky she is being far away by nice seasidey air!)

I suppose it would make more sense if you knew what Trisha was like – she is a Vogue front cover, all the time (and I mean that in a good way). And imagining Vogue in a place with no working ventilators, air conditioner, TV, computers or even coffee machine is so ironic and tragic, it’s almost quite funny, right?

Also, partly because a selfish part of me is like, “HAHA see, now you have to come back to KL and hang out with meeeee and 24-hour electricity instead of the lions!!!!” (I miss my best pal! *sob*)

Poor Trisha.

Come home lah. Tenaga Nasional loves you (and isn’t even that expensive to have).

Love,
Trixie xxx

The rather attractive colleague

2006-10-06T02:11:00.000+08:00

It helps when colleagues are somewhat attractive - it gives you that much more incentive to actually do some work and look brilliant for a change.

Of late, I've been harvesting a silly infatuation with one of my bosses (well, okay, he's only 4 years older than me so the term "boss" doesn't quite work even though he is higher up than me on the work hierachy).

Of course, just me luck that he' s incredibly businesness-like and no-nonsense (which probably just makes the whole crush thing more fun lah). I bounce up to him at the office or whenever I see him and bellow out his name before cracking some silly joke or commenting on his hair (apparently, men like comments about their hair?!). He laughs a bit and then goes straight into talking about the last book, next edit, that brochure, this text.

Sometimes I come home from wherever and there's this blinky orange MSN chat window from him and I'm all, "Oh yay!!! I wonder what he has to say?" I think that everytime, and everytime, it's just an order to do more work or a diplomatic reminder to do something I haven't done yet. Like, what else could it be? Then I'm like, "Oh. Work. Pooey."

Then I start having weird dreams about him and in the dreams he's REALLY nice and REALLY fun and we're just hanging out, chilling talking and stuff. When I wake up I think to myself, "Oh my god, he's sooooo nice. I can't wait to go talk to him." And of course, when I do go talk to him, he's nothing like he is in those dreams and is looking distracted and stressed and totally not "just hanging out, chilling talking and stuff." Cheh.

But it seems to be working. It gets me working, I'm damnbloodyrajin and meet all my deadlines. Boss has to deal with lots and lots of shitty people, so I like to think that me meeting my deadlines and getting things done ahead of time (totally amazing for me) makes a difference. And it does cos the other day he was bitching to me about having to work with these shitty people and told me how much he appreciates working with me and the other writers. I was all *blush blush* and hurray.

It's so perverse isn't it? It's like a grown up version of wanting to be teacher's pet, except a whole lot more complicated and involving hormones. The thrill is just the same though - acknowledgement or those few rare moments of gentle flirting (if you can even call it that!) are soooo like the gold star sticker at the end of a spelling test!

So you see, crushes are good for the workforce, productivity and improving one's motivation to work - I recommend everyone find themselves someone to fall in love with from behind their desks.

Chest Hair aka Meaningless Poll 2

2006-10-05T19:41:00.000+08:00

Okay guys - after all that bitchin' and whinin' bout the power, I thought its time to live on the lighter side for a while. Besides, Drama Queens are SO unattractive ; )

So, its time for (dddddrrrrrrr - drum roll) another Meaningless Poll!!!

Feel free to vote. It didn't take long to come up with a pointless topic for today's poll. After all, what could be more meaningless than chest hair?

PS: Okay, I'll admit it. The real reason I posted this poll is so I could have an excuse to post those gorgeous chests....

Power Woes - Again!

2006-10-03T16:31:00.000+08:00

I'm SO angry right now, I could scream!!!

I know nobody in Malaysia is going to care but I just have to announce this: The management of the new apartment I'm in, which is supposed to have a generator switched on when there is no power, has decided to start rationing power.

This means that the generator will be switched off for 4-5 hours during the day which means that I can't use much of the kitchen, which means I can't watch TV , which means I can't listen to music and which means that I can only use the computer and the wireless modem as long as the battery lasts.

This-is-not-good-news.

I'm highly tempted to come back to Malaysia just so I can have 24 hour, uninterrupted glorious electricity!

I'm sure there's a rational explanation for the power rationing but to borrow Margaret Mitchell's words from Gone With The Wind, "Frankly my dear Tanzania, I don't give a DAMN!"

In fact, I'm the one who's going to be "Gone with the Wind" if this high-blood-pressure inducing rationing thing keeps up.

Girls like me, SO need to be NOT in a third world country!!!!

All you people at home, enjoying the fruit of Tenaga Nasional's labour, please spare a thought for poor little 'ol me...

Too fat?

2006-10-01T17:07:00.000+08:00

And while we're on the subject, what is it that constitutes being too fat?

It seems ironic that while it is such a part of Chinese custom and old tradition that fat equates to wealth, prosperity and beauty, some of KL's skinniest people around are Chinese! And darling, I'm quite sure not all of these skinny Winnies are "born like that." I've heard enough stories about girls surviving on latters and see enough obsessive thin-thin girls exercising themselves to death at the gym to pooh-pooh away that theory.

But anyway, this isn't just another bashing session of thin people. It's a bashing of people who love to monitor your weight and can't wait to point out how very fat you are.

We were properly, hugely clubbed down a few months ago when Trisha wrote this column and I posted this follow up blog entry was published. Remember?

Of course, in typical *ahem* plebian Malaysian style, the only way to get back at us was to hurl insults about just how fat we must be, how we will never be like the gym bunnies etc etc To the ignoramuses, calling someone fat is apparently just the most awful thing you could say to someone.

*Oh, we were so distraught we cried blood*

HAH.

Let's set things straight. I'm a US size6/Australian size 8/UK size 10 and in most local stores, I fit into a medium.

But in the eyes of most M'sians I'm grossly overweight.

Now logically, if I'm a "medium," this means I'm neither "large," nor "small" - it means I'm in the middle somewhere, average. But the logic doesn't work. I'm still fat and sales assistants tell me I should try a medium as if it were prescribing something very wrong.

Funny, because when I was in England, people would be genuinely amazed when I told them I felt fat and needed to lose some weight. Their big eyes (because you know how big Westener's eyes can get) widen big big in surprise and they go, "But why? You're already so small!"

I guffawed into their faces because at first I thought they were being sarcastic, but no, they really meant it. Took me bloody ages to figure that out, what with being brainwashed in this part of the world that I'm such a fatty.

Back for holidays one year, I sat bemoaning to my cousin and her husband about how it was shitty being considered fat back in here in Asia.

I wailed, “I’m so huge here. You know, in countries like Australia and the UK, when I go shopping, I fit into a small.”

There was a spasm of bewilderment from my cousin’s husband as he laughed so hard he choked into his pasta. He was appalled and totally disbelieving.

And then, WHY the incessant need of people here to point out that you've put on weight? Surely, any girl knows when she's put on weight - the fact that your clothes feel tight is indication enough. But just to make sure you really know, the kaypohchees must inform you, in different variations:

"Wah! You're fat already lah."
Or
"Eh, you put on weight issit?" (they ask gravely, like discussing death)
Or
"Waaah... you must be eating very well, huh?"

I even had a shop assistant from a store I visit quite often tell me that: "Eh... sudah gemuk ah?"

In any case, there are "bigger girls" who are absolutely stunning - like fabulous Sophie Dahl and gorgeous Kate Winslet:

Imagine if these girls came to M'sia - would everyone laugh them down for being " too fat?!"

All a matter of perception, of course, but the point is, why can't people just get over the whole damn hang up in the first place.

Who cares if you're too fat/too thin - what does matter is whether you're healthy. You could look gorgeous but be a wreck on the inside and feel like shit - and what's the point in that?

Recently, I got to thinking about which period in my life I was the happiest and most blissed out. I surprised myself by realising that it was during high school, when I was 20 kilos heavier than I am now, and couldn't fit into anything. But life was hearty, I'd eat a pizza whenever I wanted to eat a pizza and I was having the time of my life.

Fast forward 5 years when I was at my thinniest at university, had great hair, had my pick of the lot with the boys....and it actually all felt a bit ordinary.

So heck, down with the kaypohs, the boring (thin) stuff shirts who naysay cheesecake. I'm a size 10 and I'm going to learn to love it.

Chastised

2006-09-29T15:32:00.000+08:00

I have been duly chastised. An annonymous reader has implied that I have sent out a rather mixed/negative message in my previous post.

My critic highlighted that some people are naturally thin or they might be ill and that could be the real reason behind their 'bag-of-bones' appearance, so who are we to judge?

Its true that we can't tell the real reason someone is extremely thin (or large for that matter) by just looking at them.

In a perfect world we would all be accepted just the way we are. There would be no judgment based on appearances and we would all wait to get to know someone before we decide what we think of them.

In a perfect world, a High Maintenance Babe with a bitchy attitude would remain date-less while a Plain Jane with a brilliant sense of humour would never find herself alone.

"Do Plain Janes with personalities get more dates than hotties with bad attitudes?"

But c'mon - this is not a perfect world and everyone passes judgment based on appearances (although some try harder than others, not to). Who are we kidding?

So, on this point I'm going to say that we are all entitled to our opinions (and judgment) and that includes Anonymous Critic - and me.
My critic's other issue is that I'm suggesting "thin-is-best" but only in the right places. In other words, its okay to be thin as long as you're not too thin.

This got me thinking. There is no universal definition of what 'too thin' is. Everyone's idea of what is thin and what is too thin is bound to differ.

As my critic mentioned, this confuses people who are only trying to keep up with society's definition of beauty. I concede - on this point Anonymous Critic is right.

So, hats off to my nameless challenger. Your comments are certainly insightful. Keep 'em coming!

Writerly Angst

2006-09-28T03:43:00.000+08:00

The shame! I lost hope in blogging ( cf. Trisha's clever entry ). After a spell of staying well away from the keyboard, I logged in and became totally (re)inspired by Trisha and her writing.

In fact, we had a long discussion recently about why it is that some blogs which (in our perhaps over-inflated snobby opinions) are nothing but drivel pull in hundreds of comments a day…. Which begs the question: is our blog that many levels lower than the drivel? Or too *ahem* clever/boring/intellectual/dry for the average reader?

Why is it that a blog entry on what some girl had for lunch/what she did at college/the conversation she had with a friend gets obscene numbers of comments? Are we that fascinated by the minute details of others' lives? Are we that voyeuristic?

Okay, so this thing about what makes art good bugs the hell out of writers like me who have big, fat, glorious ideals of wanting to win the next Booker, change people’s lives and rein in a cheque weighty enough to live unemployed for the rest of my life. Worth a mini rant, at least.

John Grisham, Dan Brown and Danielle Steele top bestseller lists and are probably so rich, they’re wiping their arses with 100 dollar bills. Sure, they tell a good story, they’re entertaining but aren’t also a little formulaic? Don’t they all get a bit predictable? And could you pinpoint even one beautifully written sentence in the whole 500 pages that really inspires?

Then there is really gorgeous writing – Jeanette Winterson, Alan Hollinghurst, Jamie O'Neill, Ben Okri… and I’d be quite surprised if you’d heard of any of them because as far as the bestseller lists and amazon.com ratings are concerned, it’s unlikely any of them will ever get right to the top.

Then:
There’s Mariah Carey with her plastic pop that has sold the most albums, gotten the most number 1’s etc etc etc and there are amazing indie singers that sweat poetry and reinvent music whose albums you can’t even find in this country.

There are mindless Wayan brothers movies and Jennifer Aniston romcoms selling out at box offices, while movies pushing artistic boundaries and reflecting bright, varied cultures and the real exuberance of humanity never see more than about 20 people dispersed around a cinema theatre.

Should it be something to be worried about that the world at large seems to prefer reading/watching/listening to what merely entertains but which barely challenges? Looks like we really are dumbing down, eh?

In any case, I better stop here. I’m guessing that this mere musing about the status of art will incite far less response than xiaxue blogging about her fake eyelashes so best save my lofty ideals for some other like-minded, angst ridden writer.

PS from what I’ve read, a deeply ingrained sense of cynicism and/or depression and/or despondent angst is what has fueled some of the best artists of our time (Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Tennessee Williams etc). If that’s the case, perhaps I’m not that far off the track, eh?

Thin is not in

2006-09-27T16:16:00.001+08:00

The saying "you can never be too rich or too thin" is being refuted. Well, the 'too thin' part anyway! Thin models are being banned from runways in Madrid where models who have an unhealthy BMI will be given their (cat)walking papers.

I'm all for it. I think the obsession with wanting to be thin (not svelte, not slender but thin) is at a dangerous level.

This is not to say that I haven't spent, what must be years of my life, being totally fixated on the numbers that come up on the weighing scale. In fact, I'm in the midst of a diet right now!

I just think that the obsession with looking emaciated has gone way too far.

When I was in my teens (gosh, I sound old!), I wanted to start a modeling agency with 'real people' as models. In other words, people who were not 7 feet tall, weighing 25kg and who had waists smaller than the circumference of my left ankle.

I mean who, in real life, looks like those models anyway? I don't know one single person who does.

My modeling agency idea never came to fruition of course but looks like the principle behind it is finally seeing the light of day.

I'm not saying that catwalk models should start stuffing their faces with jaffa cakes and kuih lapis until they balloon to hippo-like proportions. I'm just saying that there's slim (which looks healthy and attractive) and then there's skeletal (which looks like death warmed over and highly disgusting).

Nicole Richie is a good example of someone who didn't know when to quit while she was ahead. I admit, she did need to lose a few kilos in the first season of A Simple Life (at the risk of sounding bitchy, I'm going to say that she looked like a Friesian Cow next to Paris - hello!)

In fact, I think this image was digitally morphed so Nicole looked smaller than she really was at that time

I can understand her eagerness to shed the weight but I think she went one too far. She looks pretty ghastly now which puts her right back in the unattractive category. See what I mean?

Having a svelte figure is one thing but when your collar bone sticks out so far that it turns the corner before you do, its probably a sign that you should start re-thinking your diet and exercise routine. Besides, all this mania with being thin enough to fit through a straw has given rise to eating disorders.

So here's a shout out to Spain I sincerely hope the 'thin is not in' phenomenon catches on everywhere else.

This just in: I spoke too soon! Just as I was about to publish this post, an article on the Yahoo homepage caught my eye - apparently Madrid is the only place that stands firm on the thin ban. Thin is, sadly still in, in Milan

Who the heck are 'they'?

2006-09-25T22:21:00.000+08:00

I feel rather serious today, hence this rather serious subject….

Whenever you've wanted to do or say something unconventional in your life, have you ever had someone tell you (or told yourself) : "You'd better not - what would 'they' think?'

Who the heck are 'they' and perhaps, more importantly, why the heck should you care what 'they' think? The illusive group, otherwise known as 'they', have featured prominently in my life.

I've made many decisions based on what 'they' would think. I contemplated dancing on a table once just because I felt like it (not because of the amount of alcohol that was imbibed, promise!). I didn't because of what 'they' would think.

When I wanted to wear a dangerously short, tight, skirt to an event (Ally McBeal was all the rage then), I didn't because I was afraid that 'they' would disapprove.

The skirt, like Ally, is SO not the new millenium so I can't possibly wear it now which means I just wasted good money on it.

In my mind's eye 'they' vaguely resemble a bunch of infuriating relatives. Its like having a group of old-fashioned, annoying aunties sitting on your shoulder everywhere you go, admonishing you - a truly terrifying thought! They look something like this except they're all Indian:

What is it about being human that makes all of us SO very susceptible to other people's opinion of everything we say and everything we do? We worry about other people's idea of us even if they happen to be nameless and faceless. It is a constant struggle not to take any notice of everyone else and follow our chosen path in life - even if it means that it’s a route nobody else has taken or will approve of.

This means that if your goal in life is to be a tattoo artist than a tattoo artist you should be. How horrible if you spent an entire lifetime trapped in the life of, say, an accountant when all you want to do is to use people's skin as canvas (okay, that sounds a pretty gross but you get the idea).

I think its doubly hard in Asia where pleasing your parents and fitting into the community are considered virtues of the highest order. How do you tell your parents, who want only the best for their darling son/daughter, that their child's sole aspiration in life is to be an RTM background dancer? (alright, bad example but there could be people out there who want that, couldn't there?)

Despite my best efforts not to, I still catch myself thinking about 'them' and their opinion . I suspect that the only way I'll finally stop is when I cease to worry about what others think of me. This will probably happen only when I myself am an annoying old aunty telling young people what to do.....sigh!

Blogging and Balding

2006-09-22T19:32:00.000+08:00

I just saw someone wearing a T-shirt which proclaimed "Nobody Cares About Your Blog". I thought it was fantastic (the T-shirt not the fact that nobody cares!) but it did make me giggle a bit nervously.

I think blogging is therapeutic but it can often feel like an exercise in futility. Trixie and I have come really close to pulling our hair out in large clumps out of sheer frustration. We (like almost every blogger in blogosphere) are constantly worried that nobody really reads our blog and that we're just rambling to ourselves like a couple of loonies.

People who regularly read your blog are like real friends. The only difference is that they're unseen, unheard and generally completely invisible unless they leave some sort of comment. Either way, its always nice to know someone out there is 'listening'.

So, here's a thanks to all who have left a comment. You have no idea but some of you have totally saved us from becoming a couple of bald women - trust me!

Never annoy waiters!

2006-09-20T19:39:00.000+08:00

Gosh! I'm finally able to logon properly. To be totally honest, I haven't felt like doing anything at all for ages and ages. You know how it is....you just get into a slump and then find it so damned hard to crawl your way out again. But I decided enough was enough when the idea of washing my coffee cup after breakfast felt like a huge task looming over my head. That was terrible. So here I am, blogging again.

Something funny happened yesterday (well, it wasn't funny at the time but it seems quite hilarious now). I called a takeaway place for the first time.
This is how the conversations went:

Me: Hi. Can I place an order please?
Confused Takeaway Guy: Is this first order?
Me: Yes
CTG: Can you tell name?
Me: My name is Trisha.
CTG: Tissue?
Me: Trisha.
CTG: Tissue?
Me (at a slightly higher decibel): No,Trisha
CTG: Spell, please.
Me: T-R-I-S-H-A
CTG: Wait, wait. Is it T-I?
Me (even higher decibel): No! T-R
CTG (sounding agitated): T-I ?
Me: No, its R not I!
CTG: U?
Me (at a eardrum shattering volume): No, R!!!!!
CTG (sounding annoyed):Huh?

On the verge of a losing my voice, I told him as calmly as I could that he could not speak English and would have to get someone who can. What I really wanted to say was that he is stupid and needs to get someone who is not but I thought the better of it at the last minute.

CTG didn't say another word but a far more cheerful guy who spoke much better English suddenly came on the line and took my order. Bonus: he got my name right the first time!

Lunch duly arrived and I was pretty pleased until, halfway through the burger, I wondered if the CTG had had a hand in preparing it. I'm given to sudden bouts of paranoia so I promptly lost my appetite coz I was CERTAIN that he would have added 'extra indgredients'. He might have licked the burger - or worse...horrors!

Binned the rest of the burger and decided that no matter how slow waiter/waitress-types are, its always a good idea to be extra polite. You wouldn't want to end up with a booger burger!! Yucccckkkk!!!

Where are we?

2006-09-15T17:50:00.000+08:00

For some darn reason, I can't view this blog!!! Is it lost? Has it been stolen? Or worse - has it been attacked by some sort of evil virus?

I shall try to log on again later....

Back

2006-09-14T20:39:00.000+08:00

I'm Baccckkk!!! Hello all!

The word 'all' probably doesn't apply anymore coz its either going to be only two people (namely Trixie and me) or three at most who are reading this blog since we've taken such a long hiatus.
So, to the third person who's still checking in - thanks for sticking around!

I've finally moved into my new place and more importantly, I now have internet access. Woo hoo!

Its apparently a broadband connection but the operative word here is apparently. Still, its better than nothing. I shall endevaour to post more often now that I'm finally online again.

The bad thing about the new apartment is that we now have satellite TV (its called DSTV and is an Astro equivalent). They have this channel called E! which we don't receive in KL.

I'm totally transfixed by the completely useless, utterly frivolous but absolutely delicious programmes they have on. Shows like "Girls of the Playboy Mansion" and "10 Ways to be Hollywood's next Starlet" are such a fabulous waste of time!

Two days of watching E! turns one's mind into mush so I quickly ran out and bought myself Time magazine. So far, E! is still winning when it comes to keeping my attention!

Ciao for now

2006-09-04T22:48:00.000+08:00

I am Utterly Exhausted!!!

(Okay, I'm sure you've noticed that that lioness is not me. I'll confess - I'm looking for excuses to post a few more pictures of the Serengeti lions in this blog. Don't you thinks she's SO darn cute, though?!)

I've been carrying bagfuls of stuff up and down stairs the whole day today. We're moving to a new apartment in Dar. This one has a generator switched on ALL the time. Woo hoo!!!! Plus a nice view of the sea...lovely.

It looks like I'm going to be out of touch with the net for a while, though, coz they haven't installed the internet connection yet...sigh!

So I might be quiet for a while on this blog (good news if you're tired of me rambling on and on!) but I'm going to go to an Interent cafe if my net-less state drags on too long.

Anyways, here's saying a quick bye for now. I'm passing the baton to Trixie who has been hit by a bout of the blues (as you might have noticed in her last entry). Hope she cheers up soon - *hugs*

The only thing that's keeping me going is the fact that all that stair climbing and weight lifting is going to help me lose weight. The only problem is, it works up an appetitie as well and its so darn hard not to stuff my face! Wish me luck....!

The Endless Plains

2006-09-01T15:30:00.000+08:00

I thought there'd be a power cut today so I sent out one-liner emails to everyone at top speed this morning but it turns out that the power is still on. Anyway, it might go at any moment so I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

If you're interested to know - there are power problems in Tanzania coz the country runs on hydroelectric power and there was a terrible draught for two years. So now Tanesco rations power. Being the HMG (High Maintenance Girl) that I am, all this translates to not being able to use the hairdryer when I want to! Okay - that sounds terribly selfish but its still true! Sigh!

As I mentioned, I've just come back from a safari. We visited the Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater (which is essentially a collapsed volcano and a world heritage site) and Lake Manyara (which is a gigantic lake with tons of birds).

The HMG in me was appalled at the thought of all that driving around we'd have to do (albeit with an experienced guide) in a 4WD with no air-conditioning (horrors!). Plus the roads are SO bad that I thought my boobs would be jolted of my chest and I had to check to make sure they were still intact! But all that faded away the instant I saw the plains.

The Serengeti (which means endless plains in Masai language) isn't called that for nothing. The savannah seems to stretch to the end of the world.

Husband and I were lucky and managed to see the Big Five namely the elephant, lion, leopard, rhino and African buffalo. Unfortunately the leopard is an elusive cat and refused to get anywhere near us. Ditto the rhino and the cheetah so we had to use binoculars to see them from afar ( our zoom lens is crap so we have no pictures of the leopard or the rhino and only one of the cheetah).

Fortunately the lions have no such inhibitions and were frolicking right beside the tires of our car. We got quite close to elephants, giraffes, zebras, hippos and of course wildebeest.

I watched jealously as a Mat Salleh in a neighboring car pulled out a zoom lens so long that it practically reached the other end of the Serengeti. Husband and I had a chuckle together when we thought of what he was compensating for!

Still, we did manage to get some good pics with our teeny tiny camera so here's a few:

Pak toh Zebra-style!

Wildebeest: The biggest buffet ever

Big or small, a kitty cat is still a kitty cat

If you're worried about having a big arse - wait till you see this!

At the risk of sounding nauseatingly soppy I have to admit that the beauty of the animals and the land were so breathtaking that I felt tears in my eyes at times.

I'm now inspired to go for other 'adventure' holidays despite being a HMG. My mum always says that the lions look like their manes have had a wash and blow dry at a nearby salon.

So, I'll make like a lion and go for the windswept look. Who needs a blow dryer when the wind whipping through your hair in the open plains is just as attractive?

Power Woes

2006-08-30T19:02:00.000+08:00

Sorry for the long silence guys. One - I've just come back from a safari holiday and two the power cuts here in Dar are terrible and there are only 3 hours of power during the day every single day -damnit!!!

Promise to write again as soon as Tanesco (that's Tanzania's answer to Tenaga Nasional) permits. I swear Tanesco is the devil incarnate!!!

Misery loves company (so leave a message)

2006-08-27T18:32:00.000+08:00

Sorry for the absence. I was away in Cambodia for awhile (hanging out, being holy at the temples of Angkor Wat, eating posh gelato in boutique hotels – as you do!) and since being back have been in one of those crappy moods. Was afraid that if I wrote anything, it’d come out sounding bitching and petulant so I’ve gone hiding under my duvet until better days.

All I’ve wanted to do is eat mooncakes (indulge that slightly Chinese part of my heritage), and watch cartoons. The unfortunate demands of work have required I actually get up and make a few phone calls to difficult people (which only serves to irritate further), but time has otherwise been spent trying to find order in the world through the rounded, happy storylines of cartoons.

Trisha has been sending worried emails from across continents. “Where are you? Are you alive? Did you get off that plane from Cambodia?!?!?!” That only reminded also of just how totally irresponsible I am, and self-absorbed.

Then I’ve been pondering injustices of the world – how people mistreat their maids, how my uncaring, slightly wicked aunt abuses her dogs, how unsuspecting teenage girls get tricked into prostitution etc etc Which all makes me get my knickers in a twist and want to cry.

Then again, being overly sensitive is a girl’s prerogative, no?

Woe.

*feels like a pink ostrich, and wants to just stick her head in the sand for a few weeks*