Merepek

Was flipping through and old copy of the YellowPost when I chanced upon a news brief. I am quoting it verbatim:-

“A 65 year-old German woman will be charged with mutilation after she was caught mutilating her dead husband’s penis so she could ‘pickle it as a souvenir of their marriage.’ Uta Schneider reportedly used a butcher’s knife to chop off the private parts at a local hospital. Schneider then wrapped the penis in foil and put it inside her lunchbox. A nurse saw what she had done and called the guards to arrest her. Schneider was married for 35 years and said she wanted to keep her husband’s best asset. ‘It was his best asset and gave me so much pleasure. I wanted to pickle it for eternity. He would have wanted it. We called it his joystick. I wanted to remember him by’ she said”


Can you beat that? What do you think she’s gonna do with the pickle? Lay in on the dining table during meals? Blerrggg……

And, I repeat, she said, “He would have wanted it”. So, you men out there, perhaps you would want to consider to include an additional clause in your will specifically to say “That under no circumstances, should my pecker be pickled.”




Blerrrgghh.....this is such a lame post.

Didn’t sleep well last night – it was fitful as the sore throat, coupled with the dry and irritating cough kept me from going into deep slumber. Instead, I was tossing and turning on the bed, getting up numerous times to have a drink of water and to do some gargling with salt water before jumping back to bed, willing for sleep to come.

Sunlight was already peeking through the curtains when I was about to doze off and damn it, the gasman with his incessant “peeet, peeee…t, peee….t , peee…..tt” of the horns alternating with the Sau Kau Pohchi man’s loudspeakers blaring “Paper lamaaa…, olddd newspapeeerrr…” put paid my trip to snoozeland.

Might as well, I have quite a fair bit to cover today. Arrrghhh…. the throat is killing me. Had a quick shower, downed a mug of Milo and went straight to the GP’s clinic. Diagnosis – Pharyngitis. Errmmm…. never had it before. Anyway, I swallowed those prescribed antibiotics and cough mixture and went about my chores for the day. In the morning, the voice was still there but by late afternoon it was almost gone – could only managed a ‘coarse whisper’; more like a hiss actually. Later, when my phone rang, OMG, all I could muster was a barely audible ‘Hellllluuuuu….”. I quickly hung up and send an SMS to explain my curt and ‘abnormal’ phone etiquette.

For someone who can bla, bla, bla and blaa……, whose bread and butter depends very much on her ability to bla, bla and bla somemore and who pervertly enjoys her own voice, to be in this predicament is really horrible. To add salt to the wound, one idiotic colleague opened his gap, “Nyonya ah, kita puasa pun tak sakit kerongkong. You pulak yang kena teruk macam ni. Issshh…” And not being able to fire a salvo only makes me madder. Grrrrr……Just felt like stuffing my shoe into his trap but then, gua ini orang bersopan kan?

Nevermind la. I cannot talk, but I can blog. Happy already, like that.

Was reading Bernard's and Anonymous’ comments about being a Sinnin (another dialect group) but not being able to speak it. It brought back memories of my growing-up years in Penang. I had many Sinnin friends in my neighbourhood and I spoke their dialect and Cantonese fluently then. I can still speak Cantonese now, but I think I have lost Sinnin since leaving Penang more than 2 decades ago. Was trying to press the ‘recall button’ in my brain and hey, I can still manage a few lines:-

ni too muat? (what are you doing?)
nguai hong kai. oi pai sin (I’m slaughtering a chicken. Wanna do some prayers)

xxxxxxxx

ni yew ki kor toi, ki kor nooi? (you have how many sons and how many daughters?)
loke kor toi, sam kor nooi (6 sons, 3 daughters)

xxxxxxxxx

but I remember the cuss words very well wor!
Hehehe……

When I first went to Sabah to work years ago, I felt very lost then. I got a job in a spare-parts shop in Keningau and the people there speak only Mandarin, Hakka and the local Bahasa Melayu and I could not make head or tail of what they were talking about. The only words I heard throughout the day in the shop would be these few Hakka words “Kiam…..Chim…..and Teow….and Teow and more Teow.” Wuuahh, really leh, space is premium in a motor spare-parts shop – many items also hung (teow in hokkien) from the ceiling. So, one fine day when new stocks arrived and I helped them to sort out, I proudly tried out my convoluted mix of Mandarin and Hakka, “Wei, cher ker teow nar li ter?” All the storehands looked dumbstruck before one of them roared out in laughter. Aisehman….. Cukup malu, aitelyu!

I am an ‘ang-moh sai’, so I can’t read and write Chinese, save for my own name and my boys’ names. But I can pick up dialects and languages quite easily though, and by the time I left Sabah after 2 years, I was able to speak like a local. This, I believe is due to the fact that I am never afraid of someone laughing at me for my mis-pronounciation or mis-application of the words. If they laugh, nevermind, I also laugh together with them. That’s the fun way to learn, right?

But if you don’t use it, you just lose it.

**sighhhh….**

Read in The Star today that a businessman with the surname TAN has offered RM80,000 for the yet-to-be issued vehicle registration number TAN 1 and many offers are also pouring in for these numbers TAN 1 to TAN 9 from the state of Terengganu.

I guess the offers come from rich towkays with surname same as mine. To these towkays, maybe the special numbers give special meanings and identity. If I am this filthy rich to be able to afford it, perhaps I'll interpret it like this:-

TAN 1 - the numero uno
TAN 2 - a pair
TAN 3 - properity
TAN 4 - aikksss...'wait to die' ah? i dowan ler
TAN 5 - maybe for anak towkay no. 5
TAN 6 - aikssss.. sounds like 'wait to eat'
TAN 7 - hmmmm....'tang chat'?????
TAN 8 - 'fatt, fatt......' very good!
TAN 9 - means longevity .....very good!

This sets me thinking. So when the Penang registration plate gets to 'PUK 1", how much do you think it will command?

Anyways, I no money. I don't bother too much about my car registration number as long as it does not read '967', I'm okay already.

It was an impromptu trip. Threw a few pieces of clothing into the bag, went to the bus terminal and got a ticket and 4 hours later, I found myself climbing the stairs and walking to board the ferry from Butterworth to the island.

A nephew picked me up from the Penang ferry terminal to the house and we waited for another nephew from Gua Musang who arrived shortly. Famished by then, my brother's family and I proceeded for some food at this seaside restaurant along Northam Road(didn't look out for the name because was busy 8-pohing & looking at one young chap walloping a girl in the carpark). Horrible food, they have there. Just imagine 'muar chee' (steamed glutinous rice flour balls rolled in ground peanuts & sugar) drizzled with peanut butter. Blerrgh....

Next morning, had Hokkien Mee (Penang Prawn Mee) at at coffeeshop along Rangoon Road. Gotta wait like 30 minutes to be served. Stomach filled, went to the flea market at Lorong Kulit. Got this pair of reading glasses for RM7.


At about lunch time, gave a call to my cousin and told him that I would be bringing his Pop & Mom (my Ah Koo & Ah Kim) to his apartment at Farlim. Cousin said he's at work but the wife will be at home. Cousin and family stayed with Uncle & Aunt for more than 20 years but had since shifted out to their own place about 2 years ago and can you believe it - the 2 old folks have not been to their son's new home. Neither cousin nor wife or their kids have offered to take Uncle & Aunt!

After the visit, Uncle and Aunt were in high spirits and offered to buy afternoon tea and we ended up in a coffeeshop along the Penang Hill Road. Uncle & Aunt had curry mee and lorbak, teh-o and kopi-o. Sent them home and spent the rest of the afternoon with them.




Later, I had a piece of piping-hot 'barn charn koay' (pancake with brown sugar, peanut and drizzled with melted margarine). Then went to Gurney Drive hawker centre for dinner. Not that the food is good there but I wanted to have a good look at this.


It's chicken-skin/chicken carcass(kai hok)/chicken neck/chicken backside(bishop's nose)and all the other chicken spare-parts(innards & gizzards) rolled in seasoned flour and deep fried. Mind you, you gotta queue quite a while to be served. Don't ask me how it taste like - sorry, I don't do skins and bones.

Next morning, had curry mee at this unique stall in Air Itam. I was told these 2 charming old ladies have been at this place for more than 20 years. Look at them, they serve sitting down on small wooden stools.



Had another piece of the 'barn chan koay'. Then went to Swatow Lane for some yummy ice kacang and another bowl of curry mee before heading to Sg Nibong to catch the bus back to KL.

Now, I'm having sore throat and running a slight fever. Had been pigging too much over the past 2 days. Padan muka gua.

I was having some tongsui with 2 colleagues when one of them accidentally stepped on my little toe. “Adooiiii, suuuuhhh…suuhhh.”, I yelped.

The culprit who was sitting next to me quickly looked down at my foot and exclaimed, “Aiyoh, so soft only I step and the skin all peeling and red already. Sorrryyyy. Go get you a plaster.”

Actually, the little toe was already peeling and red even before my colleague stepped on it. You see, I have this bad habit. Each time, whenever I’m doing some reading, whether sitting on a chair or lying on the bed, with left hand holding the book, my ‘free’ right hand will automatically seek out my right little toe. Ahhhh…... Let the peeling begin. Peel and peel and peel and there’s so much to peel. The more engaging the book is, the harder I peel and I almost feel no pain while I’m at it. Sick or not, lidat?

I’ve actually rid myself of this disgusting habit once before by covering the toe with a strip of plaster. So each time before I sat down with something to read, I’ll first reach out for the box of plasters. After umpteenth strips of handyplast, I’m cured. And lately, I think it’s coming back.

Where is that box of plaster, damn it!


P.S.
According to another friend, she said that all this is very normal wor. When a person is buzy and occupied with other work, the hands cannot stray. Thus when the person is relaxed, they need to find some use for the hands lor.
Examples:-.
-picking their noses and closely studying their ‘loot’
-a male with a tweezer trying to pluck out every stick of hair from his chin
-a male putting his hand under his shirt and giving his protruding tummy a good rub
-holding and pressing all the buttons on the TV remote

Make any sense to you?

I was at a friend’s place the other afternoon when her daughter came to her with a message that “Auntie Ruth called earlier to say that she’ll send over the curry chicken later in the evening.”

Me : New caterer ah?.

Fren : Noooo. My SIL lah. She just tried out new recipe lor.

Me : SIL? Which one?

Fren : Nehhh… hubby’s 4th brother’s wife.

Me : Oooh…I see, I see. Everybody also call Uncle Dis & Auntie Dat only ah?

Fren : Eazy la, lidat. Bla….bla….bla….


Well, it’s not impolite or improper to address your relatives as Uncle/Auntie So-and-So but I’m a stickler for some old-fashioned salutation. We Chinese have clearly allocated addresses/salutations for our relatives and therefore can tell from which side of the family that particular relative belong and also which hierarchy/level he or she is at.

Some Hokkien examples:

Jee Koo (M) & Jee Kim(F) = Mom’s 2nd brother & wife

Gor Kor (F) & Gor Tneow(M) = Dad’s 5th sister & husband

Sar Pek (M) & Sar Mm (F) = Dad’s 3rd elder brother & wife

See Ee Poh (M) & See Tneow Kong (M) = 4th Grand aunt & husband (maternal grandma’s 4th sister & husband)
.
.
.
.
And so on and so forth.

When I was growing up, I too found it a chore and hassle to remember how to address my relatives correctly and moreover, it sounded so ‘uncool’ at that time. But Mom would not have it any other way. Thankfully, she was so patient and slowly taught and explained the significance of it all. I may not know all but am still learning. Now, I too insist that my boys learn and follow and get it right.

I am sure other communities have their own special address for their relatives. Care to enlighten me, anyone?

My friend calls me a grumpy old woman because, according to her, I complain too much. Small little things also bother me, she says. Take for example, I get annoyed whenever I’m addressed as Mrs Tan.

My surname is Tan. And each time when I am required to present my identification card for whatever purposes, the moron, after doing the necessary, will return my ID card with a “Thank you, Mrs Tan.” . And many times too, I have received calls from banks and other companies asking to speak to Mrs Tan. I would normally correct them and tell them I prefer to be addressed as Ms Tan. But before you could even count to three, the fella would be ending his every statement with a “Yes, Mrs Tan/No, Mrs Tan/bla, bla, bla….Mrs Tan/tatadidadaa…….Mrs Tan”. What ‘s wrong with them, huh?

OK, let’s do some exercises :-

Ms Tan married Mr Wong – That will be Mrs Wong or Ms/Mdm/Puan Tan

Ms Tan married Encik Ali bin Abu - That will be Mrs Ali or Ms/Mdm/Puan Tan

Ms Tan married Mr Mutu A/L Samy – That will be Mrs Mutu or Ms/Mdm/Puan Tan

Ms Tan married Mr Joe White – That will be Mrs White or Ms/Mdm/Puan Tan

Is that all so confusing that they just cannot figure it out what is the correct salutation? In fact, how they came to the assumption that I’m married and therefore I qualify for the title ‘Mrs’ is beyond me. And this afternoon, I heard some quick footsteps from behind and a shrill voice calling out for a Mrs Tan. Of course, I just continued walking la. How would I know it was someone from the travel agency chasing after me to pass me the passport cover? I’m not Mrs Tan., right?

Sheeessh…. And I’m not even going into those titles like ‘Dato’/Tan Sri/Tun, etc…..’. – this I’ll rant only when I am ‘awarded’ someday, and bless that sod who dare to run after me calling out, “Hello, Hello, Eskew me, Mrs Tan ah”

As I was window-shopping a couple of weeks ago, I saw a man carrying a small child sitting in one of the benches and probably waiting for the dear wife as she indulged herself in one of the stores. Placed next to him was a bulging bag which I assume contained the baby’s ‘essentials and supplies’ and a baby stroller was parked nearby. Another toddler aged about 3 years or so was playing with his robot toy on the cold floor a few feet away. This papa was bottle-feeding his young baby, probably not more than 2 months old and he was such a ‘natural’ with the way he held the child in his arm and the way he ‘positioned’ the bottle. After a while or so, he put the bottle down and burped the child before he proceeded to continue feeding. Ahh… such a heartwarming scene.

It’s not that I have not seen this type of new-age papas before, but that man looked familiar. Where have I seen him before. Hmmmm…Errrmmm….Try as I might, I just could not place him. Anyway, I walked into another store and something else caught my eyes and I just erased this image.

Then 2 days ago, I saw this man again at a funeral wake of a colleague. A quick referral with another colleague confirmed that this man is the Director of XXX Co. Oooohhh…..I see, I see. Now I remember. This is the same man I saw in action at his office many, many months ago. I was at XXX Co. to collect some documents. As the person in charge was in the midst of a short discussion, I was told to wait at the reception area. I was thumping through some of the old magazines when suddenly a very well-dressed man stormed out and yelled at the receptionist for putting through a call to his office. OMG, the look on his face would be good enough to frighten away a pit-bull. Then I guessed he realized that there was someone in the reception area and he just as quickly retreated to his office. That was rude. Didn’t know whether he felt embarrassed or not but the receptionist and I sure did.

Ya, this is the same man – the docile and loving father looking after the kids while his wife shopped. This is the same man who wore power suits and call all the shots at the office but is very ‘domesticated’ at the home front. This is the same man who was crass and rude at work but gentle and loving at home.

Men wear many masks too.

You know those letters sent out by Customer Service Depts to the Company's clients that end with this standard line - 'This is a computer-generated document. No signature is required.' ?

A relative of mind received one such letter addressed to his deceased wife a couple of days back. The Company sent that letter to update the customer (the deceased) on the status of her account and the customer was told to 'feel free to contact us at our hotline no. 03-xxxxxxxx'.

Of course, my relative felt terribly upset. I helped him give a call to that Company and gave to them properly lah.

Me : Harlo?

Co. : **please press 1 for ...., 2 for...., 3 for...**

Me : (press and press and press summore)

Co : (finally a human voice came on) Good afternoon, bla....bla....

Me : Customer Service Manager, please.

Co : Please hold on.

(after 30 seconds or so)

CS Mgr : Hello, ZZ speaking.

Me : This is Nyonya. I'm calling with regards to that letter addressed to Mdm G. She passed away quite a while ledi.

CS Mgr : Oh! Let me check our records.

Me : No need to check la. Already informed your Company after she passed away and account already closed and you still send letters. Yau moh kau chor. How can you all be so insensitive? bla...bla...bla....

CS Mgr : Sorry, sorry Madam. We will sent apology letter immediately.

Me : Please address the letter to Mr P, the husband, OK?

CS Mgr : OK, OK.


Two days later, my relative got this letter and the contents read something like "We would like to to apologize for sending the letter to your late beloved mother, Mdm G."

(slaps forehead)

Aiyooh, these @#%&*!# screwed-up executive morons! Can't they just get things done right?

When I used the colloquial word ‘kang kang’ in my post yesterday, I was reminded of a gossip session years ago.

I used to fetch the boys home from school and would go much earlier before the bell to secure a parking space near the school gates. There would be the usual faces of a few full-time homemakers and a couple or so of working mothers sitting on the benches underneath the shady trees waiting for their kids. But there is this one guy always in singlet and bermuda-pants who would be there daily waiting for his son and daughter. Occasionally this guy would be at the benches chatting with a few of the ladies but most of the time, he would be having a smoke with the other male school bus drivers. I was curious actually about what he does for a living because he doesn’t seemed dressed for work and he fetched the kids all the time and I don’t remember seeing the kids’ mom before. The 8-pohism got the better of me and I just have ask one of the mothers, HH, whom he usually talked to.

Me : That guy so young ‘pencen’ ledi hor?

HH : Ehhh.., he doesn’t go to work wan. His wife works and he looks after the kids and all things in the house.

Me : Good oso hor? At least when she’s at work, she doesn’t have to worry about leaving the kids with the maid for the whole day.

HH : He said wife works nights, so day time, she’s sleeping at home.

Me : Ah, I see, I see.

HH : **pssst..** They say hor, he makan nasi kangkang wan.

Me : Errrrmm..….Oooooh….


We hear ‘nasi selipar’ all the time. But, but… ‘nasi kangkang’?????

Yesterday, I was worried about what to post in this blog. Think, think, think , look, look, look and search, search, search and then I got it! Ahhh… Seek and you shall find!

Had lunch with the elder boy as he finished his class early. As it was scorching hot, we decided on a small air-conditioned outlet not too far from home. While waiting for the food to be served we chatted and he filled me in on his day. Then I noticed his eyes darting about all over and I quickly tried to follow his line of vision but I don’t seem to see anything out of ordinary. Then in a low voice he said, “Ma, don’t look ler.”

Meself, the suakoo went,, “What?? Where?? Where??....”

Son : shhhh…. Aiyer…. that woman ler. Sitting the next table wan la…

Me : **tried to turn around and take a peek but the boy gave a soft kick on my foot**

Son : Don’t laaa… (he hissed)

Me : **sat up ramrod-straight and looked at him in the eyes**

Me : psssst…. Why?

Son : No manners wan that girl. Sit oso kenot sit properly. Summore skirt so short.

Me : **stood up, walked to the counter to take some tissues & walked back**

Me : Choi, Choi, Choi, Cilaka betul, sit kang kang lidat. Aiyooh, thighs like hippo legs and got so many 5sen 10sen marks. Don’t look, don’t look, afturds lost appetite. Wanna change table or not?

Son : Sheeesshh…..!!!!!

Read an article yesterday in The Star Two about the Perils of Blogging whereby they interviewed a few bloggers (one of them, Michael Ooi) and made references to some others. If you don’t wanna to be fried or land in hot soup, don’t blog about your boss, your work and workmates, your MIL, your neighbour’s wife, religion, race, all the politikus, bla, bla, bla.. and the list can only get longer.

What can I blog about then? Nyonya and nyonya and more nyonya? Nah! Can’t just bore to death those who pop by with some absurd rants day-in and day-out, right? So I consulted my younger boy who incidentally was engrossed in his on-line game, on what he thought is safe for me to blog about. The conversation went like this :-

Me : Aiyoh, you saw this article ah? Sei ler, dis kenot, that kenot. What to blog then?

Son : **whistling a tune and nodding/bobbing his head to the beat of some music**

Me : Eh... saw this or not?

Son : **continued with his whistling….. ****

Me : Wei, you listening to what I’m saying or not?

Son : Ya. **continued with the annoying whisssstle…**

Me : Say something la. Tell me ler, gimme a topic to blog la.

Son : Aiyaaah…., no topic then don’t blog la.

Me : Kenot, that wan my favourite past-time. Don’t blog then do what?

Son : Play DOTA. (on-line game)

Me : !!!!!!!!!.....

The 2 boys will sleep in on weekends, public holidays and during their breaks and the earliest that they will lift their sleepy heads off the pillows will be way past noon. When they do get up early as like at 7.30am or so on a Saturday, it's usually that they have arranged to shoot some hoops with their buddies at some nearby courts or at a clubhouse.

So if and when they do wake up unusually early or they wake up in the middle of the night, more often than not, something ails them. The younger one had a slight fever a few days back and some paracetamol took care of that. Then an irritating cough came on. The next day, as we were walking past a stall selling Chinese herbal drinks, he asked for a bowl of 'wong lou kat' with extra ground-herbs which managed to give relief to the throat. Two nights later, I bought home another packet of 'wong lou kat' and poured out half a cupful for the elder boy. Then on Friday morning, it was the elder boy's turn with a slight temperature; took 2 paracetamol before he went for classes. The next morning, he was up at 10.00am and that's not normal. I looked at him and he croaked, "Arrgghhhh...Got verrryy ...baaddd... thrroooat. Got anymore Dequadin lozenges ah?"

Any sympathy from me? Nah! In fact I went ballastic, "Everytime eat all the heaty foods - banana leaf rice la, nasi kandar la, nasi lemak la, roti banana la, nasi goreng....and summore lazy to drink plain water. Tehpeng, pak kopipeng, nescafepeng and what-have-you pengs. Padan muka la now, bla...bla...bla..."

Then he answered, "It's not that la, Mama. It must be the 'wong lou kat'. I only got the fever after drinking that poison."

I countered, "Don't blame that drink. Look at your lips; red like cherry only. Your body very heaty now la. Wanna go see doctor or not?"

"No need lah. No fever liao. I'll just gargle with salt water and drink some warm honey can ledi." he shot back and he quickly scooted back to his den before I can start my Rappin' & Naggin'.

Talking about driving a car, I just can count only 2 of my friends, both ladies who can’t drive and all the males that I know can drive, except for one.

This chap is one lucky sod. Never needed to learn to drive at all. When he was dating a girl, he applied for a motorcycle L licence. Rode his kapchai to the girl’s place, parked the bike there and the girl will then drive him in her Mom’s car. Got married, and the wife will drive him to and from school (he was a teacher). If the wife could not send or pick him up for the day, his mom-in-law would be the alternate driver for the day. Fast forward 3 decades later, and now he has his two sons, a daughter and a daughter-in-law who occasionally drive him around; most times he prefers his 2 other relatives. Don’t even suggest taking a cab – he is so paranoid of being mugged.

I always thought that driving is something you just gotta learn when you fulfill the age requirement; health reasons and physical limitations aside. So when one of my lady friends told me that she choose not to learn and insists that hubby fetches her around everywhere, I seriously thought she came from a different planet. This is the way to keep hubby in tow, she said. Alamak, lidat oso got ah? **roll eyes**

As for the other friend, she has a valid driving licence which I used to tease her about framing it up and hanging it next to her many certificates that adorn her office wall. This funny woman has not driven since the day she passed the driving test more than 10 years ago but she faithfully renews the licence She has this irrational fear of driving to her death in a nasty road accident. When she told me the reason, I thought it funny and laughed my head off but she was not amused. I dunno, perhaps a shrink or a hypnotist may be of help to her.

I am one impatient nyonya. I just cannot wait and be dependent on another person to fetch me around. Big or small, old or new, it does not matter. As long as I have my own wheels, I can just zoom anywhere, anytime I like.

Came across a news article in The Star yesterday about this British chap named Omed Aziz, 31, formerly from Iraq, who was pulled over by the Police when they saw him driving and veering dangerouly. The Police was astonished to find Mr Omed has no eyes (lost them in a bomb blast), is deaf and also suffers from leg tremors. How did he do it? Well, Mr Omed had a friend on the front passenger seat guiding him along with instructions to steer, brake and the suitable speed limits. When he was charged, Mr Omed said he is perfectly safe on the road. Nonetheless, he was found guilty of dangerous driving.

OMG! Like that also can ah? Missing so many faculties and still insists on driving. But then, I must commend his friend for being such a very brave fellow. Either that, or he is a utter moron.

This brings to mind the first time I sat in the car as my son, the newbie driver took to the wheel. Even before I stepped into the car, I was like saying my prayers a thousand times. Then with beads of sweat trickling down the face and dirtying my make-up, I took a deep breath and lowered my bum onto the front passenger seat and buckled up. ***cherrh, cherrrh, cherrrh…** He coolly turned on the ignition. I shot him another reminder to drive sloowwwwllly as I grabbed a big clump of tissues to try soak up the uncontrollable torrent of sweat. He let go the parking brake and the car glided (more like lunged, actually) forward. Another 50 metres or so to the T-junction, I was already yelling at him to ‘SLOW DOWN, SLOW DOWN’ and at the same time stepping on the imaginary brake pedal on my side. On to the main road, I went “DON’T FOLLOW SO CLOSE! KEEP YOUR DISTANCE! LOOK OUT! USE THE HORNS!, TURN ON THE SIGNAL! TAKE THE CORNER SLOWLY! WATCH THE LIGHTS!...BLA.. BLA....BLA..”

My heart felt like it was going to jump out of the chest. And I felt faint. And I felt cold. And I felt pain on my left palm because I held so tightly to the handbar (is this what you call it?) on the upper car cabin, that the nails almost dug into the soft flesh.

After somewhat like an eternity, we finally reached the destination – my hair salon which is only about 3 km from our house. Took another deep breath and as I was trying to pull myself together, the sweet fella cheerfully offered, “Gimme a buzz when you’re done and I’ll pick you up. See you later, Mama.”

I stumbled out of the car and limped (aitelyu, the right leg hurts because I stepped too hard on the imaginary brakes, LOL) towards the salon to get my hair fixed.

Whenever I am in Penang, I hardly eat at home and I don’t do rice I’d rather binge on the yummy hawker food and New Lane is one of my favourite place to pig-out because of variety, convenient location and easy parking.

Talking about parking, the local council officially collects parking charges up to about 10.00pm or so but unofficially you have those jaga-kereta fellas who collect 24 hours. These jaga-keretas are everywhere and come in all shapes and colours and I’ve seen some young kids looking no more than 10 years old to other old, grey and hunched species. They are normally friendly and polite when they approach you to collect their fees upfront but should you ignore or shoo them away, they can turn pretty nasty. So, the car owners usually will put some coins into their grubby hands and they’ll be on their way. So much for their jaga services! And during the couple of days I was in the island, I observed that these fellas now demand to be paid something like RM1 to RM2. I commented that it’s expensive and they just coolly told me off that everything also increase price already, so if they were to just chance upon our generosity with the loose coins, it would be untenable. Hmmmmp..**roll eyes**

Ya, going back to the New Lane story la. I'm not going blog about the food but about the hazards of eating at this place which is infested with beggars especially on weekends and public holidays. Spend an hour or so there and there’ll be no less than 4 approaches. They will be standing with a filthy outstretched hand next to your cramped table and also using the same line, “Ah Chek/Ah Ee, hor chit nor khor lai” (Uncle/Auntie, pass over 1 or 2 ringgit) Aisehman, this is outright demand. Real brazen. And aitelyu, most of these beggars are youngish-looking, able-bodied with all limbs still intact.. Tsk, tsk, useless bums all, so lazy to find proper work. Once, my brother was there with me. He put on his most fearsome-looking face and blasted out the most original and colourful Penang @#*&^%?$@&* and that bugger immediately back-off. No pitying them la – most of them beg to feed their drug-addiction.

Wuuaah...Beggars also demand for payrise. Who said beggars' can't be choosers?

OK, the Mega Sales Carnival is officially over now and my credit card statements just arrived. Looking at it, I dunno whether to cry because of so much damage or to laugh it off and blame it on my occasional 'off-centredness' when I simply signed all those charge-slips. Gila or no gila, mad or no mad, reality bites when I saw those figures staring back at me.

Let me see properly. Hmmmm....
**puts on reading glasses**

Car Insurance Renewal RM1,163.75
Road Tax (Cash) 376.00
New Tyres 960.00
Camera (for sons & myself la) 699.00
Handphone(for myself, but now son using first) 1,099.00
Nichii Fashion 109.00
Adidas shoes (for son) 215.00
__________

Total RM4,621.75
===========

Harrrr....! Ai Si Si Boh! (Wanna die izzit!) Spend so much. Head not so big, wear so big hat! Earn RM1 but Spend RM3!

I think I have to moonlight la!

Flowsnow did the 6 Random Facts meme and she let out that her sense of direction sucks. Told her that she can't possibly be worse than me.

#Twice, I could not find my car in the mall's carpark. First time, many years ago at Subang Parade. Thought it was smart of me to note that the entrance I used was near a carwash. I did not know that there were 3 carwashes and to make it more difficult, the old banger I drove did not have those remote/alarm locks for me to click. So I just had to walk round and round to locate my car. The second time was at the dark and dingy carpark in Sg Wang when I could not remember/recognize which lift entrance I had used earlier.


#Many, many years ago after an appointment and trying to get out to the KL-Seremban Highway. Was told to follow a straight road and then to look for signboard for directions. As luck would have it, the signboard had been blown away during a storm. So, I followed my instincts, took the wrong turn and ended somewhere near Nilai.

#Wanted to send someone to KLIA. Was busy yakking away and without realising, I overshot and missed the turning. Managed to find another turning near Kajang.

#Had to visit someone at Selayang Hospital. Got directions before hitting the road but as usual, was lost as a lamb and as I was about to stop and ask for help, when an ambulance with wailing sirens shot pass. I accelerated and the ambulance led the way.

#Was in Chan Sow Lin area in KL and wanted to get back to PJ. There were roadworks and diversions and I found myself going round and round within the Salak South vicinity. Continued to drive blindly, got into a new highway and ended near Sunway Pyramid.


There are more but these are the few that I can clearly recall. Damn shy only to tell you that I am in the sales line and still so terribly blur where directions are concerned. That is why I will always top up the tank eventhough the gauge still show a quarter remaining. Just don't want to be caught standing helplessly at some God forsaken place.

So those who want to take a ride with me, ride at your own risk!

The queue at the ATM was quite long and of the 3 cash dispensing machines, only 1 was in working order. I was the third in the line and behind me were 6 more - all wore grouchy, impatient looks. Suddenly, one bored ‘lalachai’ thought of using his time more fruitfully and decided to make a call and it went something like this:-

Lalachai : Hallo, Lalamui ah?
Hallo, hallo, Lalamui,…. can hear or not?

**voice went up a couple of decibels**

Hallo, hallo, Lalamui…Can hear ledi?
I am Lalachai la. Still remember me or not?
Neh, that night leh, at Kowchai’s place got
Bar-b-q for Ah Far’s birthday

Lalamui : (said sumthing, sumthing)

Lalachai : Ya, ya, hailor. I wore the purple fishnet top wan.
Hehehe, you remember hor.
Wonder you got time for a movie this evening?

(everyone in the queue was already giving Lalachai dagger stares but he nonchalantly continued with his dating pitch. in fact, he pitched harder, perhaps motivated by his perception of fellow ATM users' support)

Lalamui : (said sumthing, sumthing)

Lalachai : Oh, in that case, we go countdown at Bintang Walk la.

Lalamui : (she probably said Bintang Walk got a lot of rapists;
or that her parents’ hobby is to castrate any lalachai
who tries to take her more than 5 km out of PJ)

Lalachai : Huh, yau moh? So garang wan meh?
Lidat, we go Curve only la. Got concert, got
nice, nice fireworks, bla, bla, bla….

As I walked out of the bank, I cannot help but reminisce those dating games we played long, loonnng time ago. But I just cannot recall the exact opening line though.

Care to share, anyone?