There’s some progress. Completion will be delayed till end August 2007.
I can safely say that I had a great childhood. This means that I was a major headache to my poor hapless and beleaguered parents, who, I am sure, were at their wits end, not knowing what to do with me.
I won’t tell you all my little secrets, there are some I intend to keep to myself. But here’s one tale I will share with you.
I was eight years old, a short and skinny lad. Even then I was nuts about football. I would play football before classes start. I would play football during recess. I would play during Pendidikan Jasmani. I would even play after classes whilst waiting for my parents to pick me up from school.
My parents complained constantly often about the godawful pong that followed me around. Apparently, sweat and ditch water does not smell remotely like Estee Lauder Pleasures. In fact, I smelled like a rotting carcass.
Due to poor drainage, my school padang was constantly flooded with sewage water. My classmates and I would happily (trans: stupidly) scamper around the pitch covered with six inches of noisome water. Attempting to kick the ball would create a spray that drenched everyone within a six foot radius. It was great fun. One word of advice though. Remember to keep your mouth closed should you wish to try longkang water football.
I remember getting kicked on my shin once. The resultant cut plus exposure to the sewage water gave me huge weeping sores that were so badly infected I had to get a penicillin shot.
Anyway, one fine day, Kim Yen (Darjah 3 Merah’s unofficial football captain) organised a friendly with another class during recess.
We were really excited about the game.
At the sound of the recess bell, we rushed onto the pitch. We stood in a line waiting expectantly for Kim Yen to choose his team. Kim Yen strutted onto the pitch. Predictably, he picked his close friends. And sadly, I was not one of them.
I shrugged. Supersub also can lah.
The rejects and I trudged sadly to the sidelines. We sat under the tree and watched the game.
We lost. And I did not get to play.
As we were walking back to classes at the end of recess, I tapped Kim Yen on the shoulder.
“Eh, why didn’t you let me play today?”
Kim Yen looked down at me (he was taller then) and sneered at me. “That’s because you suck. I will never pick you.”
Something in me snapped.
I hit him. Hard. On his head. With my blue plastic Transfomer tupperware. And it’s got a picture of Optimus Prime on it.
“Owww,” he yelped. He stared at me and turned to walk away.
I thought that was the end of the matter. Boy was I wrong.
I got the whoopass of my life as I got home from my dad. Kim Yen’s mother complained to my mum. Apparently, my assault on Kim Yen left him dizzy and nauseous, and in need of medical attention.
I nearly died man, that day.
The next morning, the headmaster summoned us into his room. He faked kau me and threatened to expel me. He asked me what I hit Kim Yen with.
“My tupperware,” I meekly muttered.
“Bring it to me.”
I hurried to my classroom and picked up the offending weapon. I ran back to my headmaster fearing the worst.
As soon as my headmaster laid eyes on the tupperware, he smiled. He picked it up and started squeezing it. To my amazement, he started bonking his head with my tupperware.
Bonk, bonk, bonk.
Bonk some more.
“Hmmm, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. My headmaster turned his head slowly around and stared at me with his serious deep eyes.
Suddenly, he jerked his head and faced Kim Yen.
“This doesn’t hurt at all! You are really lembik. Just don’t let this sort of thing happen again.”
He smiled and shooed us out of his room. After this incident, Kim Yen and I became much better friends.
PS: This is Din‘s fault. Go scold him. I will be MIA this entire weekend. Dontch kacau me, got important project to do.
I got really fed up today.
Every single time something important comes up, I have to do this. I have to plead, sometimes grovel on my knees. And still I may not get what I need.
Whenever something urgent pops up, I have to beg every single person in my department. Helpch me helpch me. To no avail.
I finally took matters into my own hands. Beh tahan.
I can’t get the things I need to do the things I need to do so that the firm can get me the things I need. Sigh. My working environment is like the Ethiopia of the stationery world, there’s flies all over the place and my colleagues wander aimlessly with vacant looks in their eyes whilst lugging huge bloated bellies. Kidding. But seriously though, there’s a constant supply shortage and it gets a little irritating sometimes.
I went out and bought myself a pair of scissors and a roll of cellophane tape.
I am so getting an Exceeds Expectations rating for Initiative during my annual performance review.
Sometimes, the things that go on in this country really saddens me. It’s getting really hard to not imagine that things are really going pear shaped.
KAMPUNG JIAS, Malaysia (Reuters) – Deep in the heart of a Malaysian jungle, a preacher holds a meeting under the scorching midday sun, urging followers not to lose faith after their church was demolished by the government.
The razing of their simple brick church, among a spate of demolitions of non-Muslim places of worship in Malaysia, has heightened fears that the rights of minority faiths are being eroded despite provisions in Malaysian law guaranteeing every person the freedom to profess his own religion.
Read the rest of the story here.
These people are already so poor, so impoverished. They are not causing harm to others. They just want to have a place where they can worship God.
I just want to ask the
dumb bastards authorities one question.
Why? What do you stand to gain in doing all this stupid fucking nonsense?
I have my moments, sometimes. Instances when my actions and utterances inspire awe and amazement from those around me. Moments when the fate of the universe changed for the better as a result of my actions. Trumpets blaring. Angels singing. Spotlights beaming. Brilliant fireworks light up the sky.
*boom boom keboom crackcrackcrack*
Thursday night two weeks ago definitely wasn’t one of these moments.
El Dee, Eh Lee, El Dee’s little brother and I went to watch this really strange, obscure movie that no one has ever heard of. Apparently, it’s about some robots from space. I couldn’t be bothered, unlike some people. :p
Back to my story.
We shuffled through the gates dejectedly as the movie was about to start.
Two hours of torture and suffering. I passed the tickets to the ticket-stub-tear-off-man. He took the tickets, stared at us for a while and proceeded to tear the tickets in half.
I took the stubs back. I was a little distracted that evening, as I had a lot of work pending. C. Lengus was going to kill me the next morning. I folded the stubs into little squares and started tossing them in the air absent-mindedly.
Cinema going ritual dictates that prior to entering a big screen cinema, one must visit the Loo Goddess to make a deposit. Failure to make this visit will result in discomfort and pressure throughout the duration of the movie.
Which we did.
As were standing near the entrance of the loo, waiting for Eh Lee, I suddenly realised that I had forgotten where we were supposed to be seated. I reached into my pockets for the ticket stubs.
They’re not here. Left pocket? Nope. Right? Nope. Back pocket? Nope. Shirt pocket? Nope as well.
Tried all pockets again frantically.
Ohsheet ohsheet ohsheet.
Dread overcame me. I recalled chucking something into the trash can as I entered the men’s loo moments ago.
I ran helter-skelter to the trash can and peered into it. It was filled with wet soggy tissue paper and some unidentified yellowish gooey stuff.
Desperation is a great motivator, and I found myself rummaging through the trash. Dig dig dig dig dig.
Oh sheet oh sheet where is it? It’s not here.
People were staring at me, but I didn’t care. I spent 5 minutes sifting through that disgusting
Finally, I gave up. The ticket stubs are not there. I washed my hands and slunk back to El Dee, Eh Lee and El Dee’s little brother. They were pissing themselves laughing.
It’s not funny.
I didn’t know what to do, I took my phone out from my pockets.
Sometimes, I feel like slapping myself.
To my utter amazement, I found the ticket stubs. Stuck to the back of my phone. In my pocket. Mocking me.