You know you are getting old when...

1. You start having more white hairs. I found 2 white hairs this morning!! Help. My melanocytes are dying.

2. You eat less. A lot less. This is either due to a decreased metabolism rate or because you have become allergic to exercises. Any form of exercise.

3. You need less sleep. I used to love sleeping. And now suddenly I can do with 6 hours of sleep. At times, even 4 hours. This can't be good.

4. Your student tells you that you were her mother's lecturer.

5. You start having really bad eyesight. Small prints become ridiculously tiny and in dim lights, there's no way I can even make out the words.

6. You start getting pins and needles every so often. This is when you sit cross-legged and when you attempt to get up, you find your legs have gone to sleep. And they take quite awhile to wake up.

7. You start getting wrinkles. And even your wrists have wrinkles.

8. You go around the house searching for your car keys and yell at your kids to find them. Then you realised you were holding them in your hand all the while.

9. You start blogging like Dr. M.

Guilty No More

OK. So I have never liked healthy foods. I can't understand why people like salads or wholemeal bread or worse, multigrain high fibre cereals. Uggghhh. I love meats and seafood. I adore white bread and I take nasi lemak or laksa for breakfast.

But every once in a while I get sucked into the whole health fad thing. Especially when my mum comes to stay. She would cook healthy food, hide all my fizzy drinks and make me take vitamins and supplements. And I'd humour her, in part because being mollycoddled like this is so rare, and in part because I feel a little guilty that I don't quite do the healthy lifestyle thing.

But now, hah! I was right all along. 

Dear Job Interviewee

Dear Job Interviewee,

Please do not offer to shake hands if you have a sweaty, clammy palm. I know you are nervous, but I don't like to get that intimate with you. You can keep your bodily excretions to yourself, okay. And speaking of sweat, if you do tend to smell, please do try and get your hands on some deodorant. Please.

But if I do offer to shake hands, please try not to crunch my bones, can? And don't make out like a limp fish either. Why can't people just do a normal firm but gentle handshake? Surely it's not rocket science.

Do try to be punctual, and please try to leave your mother at home. And that goes for boyfriends and girlfriends too. I really just want to interview you. It's not like it's going to be Buy 1, Get 1 free, right?

When I speak with you, please look back at me, and you know where my eyes are. They are not at my chest. 

That chair you are sitting on, well, it's not a rocking chair. So please, do not try to rock it. I have motion sickness just looking at you. Oh and if you have a leg that simply must shake, please try to control that too. I am sure it takes considerable talent to make your leg do 500 shakes a minute, but please, not with me.

And when your handphone rings, can you just ignore the call or keep it short? You are 4 feet away from me. Guess what. I can still hear you whispering sweet nothings. Geli. So hang up. Now.

Try to talk with some enthusiasm. You don't have to be super hyper, but can you at least try not to put me to sleep? Keep it simple and sound interesting. Can?

And you know, if you got mostly C's in your academic transcripts, please don't tell me how hard you studied and how brilliantly you did. I can't keep a straight face that long.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,
A Job Interviewer

Shock Advertisements

I get it. Advertisements are meant to create an emotional connection. We want to evoke emotions to a level where there is a lot of buzz, and hope it might even go viral.

I used to like Benetton's ad campaigns. Their slogan - United Colors of Benetton had this underlying message of love across bounderies, love is colour blind.

Nice, cute, pretty.

Then they gradually got controversial and finally came out with a series of Unhate ads last week.

Really, Benetton ??

Ugghh. I must confess. I find them disturbing. I know these are photoshopped pictures but still. Can't get these images out of my head. So I guess, in that, Benetton has succeeded. My utterly conservative heart is shocked to the core.

But shock advertisements like these are nothing new. In fact, they even have a term for it. Shockvertisement.

Wikipedia has this to say :

"Shock advertising or Shockvertising is a type of advertising generally regarded as one that “deliberately, rather than inadvertently, startles and offends its audience by violating norms for social values and personal ideals.” ^[1] .. Shock advertising is designed principally to break through the advertising “clutter” to capture attention and create buzz, and also to attract an audience to a certain brand or bring awareness to a certain public service issue, health issue, or cause "

Yes of course. There are just too many ads. There is a need to stand out from the clutter.

I will go with deliberately startle, yes, if that might provoke a buzz. But to deliberately offend? 

One university in Belgium tried shockvertising.

The Hilary Obama ad by the Hogeschool-Universiteit (HUB) in Brussels Belgium - why choose between a college and a university when you can combine?

Hahaha. I won't say it shocked me much. Tickled yes. Hilarious.

So. Does shock advertising actually work? I think the jury is still out on this one. But I think, as far as provoking a response, yes, of course. But is it the right response? Maybe not.

Yummy Dayak food

Tried out this really nice place. Authentic mouthwatering scrumptious Dayak food. So yums.

It's in Kuching, at the junction of Jalan Mendu and Jalan Simpang Tiga, just next to Guardian. Lunch is a buffet spread, only RM10 per person and dinner is ala carte.

I'm too lazy to write much. So fullandlazy.

Go try. Especially the tuak.

Nineteen all over again

While in Penang, I met up with my old mates from Burnside High School.

I thought it was just going to be just the girls. But they got in touch with the boys too. And they came later, looking pretty much the same. But yeah, no more boys. Men now okay.



The boys and girls from Burnside High

Lay Hooi. We've been friends for so long. We were in the same class in kindergarten, then went on the same primary school, same secondary school and you would you believe it, same high school in NZ. From Alor Setar to Christchurch.That's 35 years of friendship. 35 years of knowing. I knew every guy she had a crush on.

Lay Hooi and I

See Wai. Bubbly, outgoing and happiest soul on earth. One of the first friends I made in Christchurch. I think she's probably friends with everyone there. You could always hear her laughter a mile away. Whilst the other three went to other universities, See Wai and I both stayed on in Christchurch and went to the University of Canterbury. But she hopped over to the dark side. Engineering! I didn't see her much then. Uggh. The engineering block stinked. Too alpha male.

See Wai and I

Cheng Woi. The brainiest of us all. I used to tease him a lot. Thank goodness he's still talking to me. He still looks the same, walks the same. We lost contact after high school. And now I know why. After high school, he was quickly offered a full scholarship to read law at Leeds. Then another full scholarship for his masters in Belgium. Jealous.

Cheng Woi and I



It was a blast. Over food and drinks at this quaint Nyonya restaurant in the Straits Quay, we giggled like school kids and gossiped about our teachers. Talk about an estrogen rush. Hah. We totally forgot that we're now middle-aged professionals.

Nope, in those giddy moments, we were nineteen all over again. We recalled every silly teenage thing we did. We giggled over our teen crushes, our teen problems and just general silliness. See, we were in this foreign land where the kiwis spoke funny and smelled funny. I mean, it took me about 3 months to decipher the accent. And most did smell of lamb, except not in a good way. (they probably thought we smelled of garlic)

We remembered  how we cycled everywhere. (In Christchurch, everyone knew how to ride the bicycle. By the end of the first year, I could manouveur my racing bike so well, I could do it hands-free!)  And we remembered how we were hopelessly addicted to fresh milk, full cream please. And giggly recall the teachers in high school and even the body measurements of a particular male economics teacher. Scandalous! As each memory resurfaced, we collapsed in hoots of laughter.

So much fun. Childhood friends are still the best friends we'll ever have. And I've always wondered why that's the case. But Lay Hooi said it right. We're friends because we clicked and for no other ulterior motive. This is life. Simple, no layers, no pretense. Cheers!

Penang trip

Penang trip 4-6 November 2011

So finally it did happen. 34 of us descended on Penang, and had a nice 3D2N. I used to live and work in Penang once. That was 1993. Straight out of university, and lived quite a different life back then.

I was shocked. Penang is actually clean. Almost as clean as Kuching. Since when? Well, according to the tour guide, since the new chenghu took over. Hats off to you then, Mr Lim Guan Eng. Because when I lived there, it was scary filthy.

So we did all the touristy stuff. Visited Fort Conwallis, walked along Gurney Drive, shopped at Gurney Plaza, Komtar, Prangin Mall, 1st Avenue Mall, went to Chong Fatt Sze mansion, Kek Lok Si temple, Penang Hill, etc etc. It was a bit of a rush though. I would have preferred my holidays to be lazy with nothing much to do except eat, play on the beach and watch the sunset. Maybe next time.

Team SEGi

We didn't stop eating either. In between meals, we stuffed ourselves with char kueh tiaw, assam laksa, rojak, mua chee, aiskacang, chee cheong fun.. yums.

This was taken at a Thai restaurant. The tomyam was really good. So was the kerabu mango. The rest I can't remember. Cos by then the chili padi had my lips and tongue swollen twice their original size.

And when we thought we could walk no more, we went back to the hotel, showered, changed and came out again.

Upper Penang Road. We didn't get there till quite late but the place was a party paradise. Young crowd, great looking cars, and really loud music. Smoking hot. Thanks to Rach for bringing us there.

But first, got to take photos with the Ferraris. 'Bout 5 in a row.

That's me trying to learn the art of sipping beer from Angie. She's such a cutie. Unlike me who just gulped it down.

We had fun that night. It was good to go out with colleagues and have some downtime together. I loved every moment laughing and eating and drinking.

Must do it again. Where to next, eh?



Anjua

A friend sent me some hilarious pictures. And it's all about Tan Sri Dr. Koh Tsu Koon and his magical capabilities. Who would have thought.

Spot the difference.



Apparently these two pictures came out in the Kwong Wah Yit Poh. Except that some idiots forgot that when they photoshop one picture, they should do the same to both. So we have the first picture that clearly has a missing Koh Tsu Koon (because he fell off his bicycle and got left behind). But the oh so kind editors felt that he deserved a place just next to the Prime Minister. So voilà!

And our netizens, ever so quick to appreciate the guy's teleporting abilities, went a tad further.

See here for more pictures.

Anjua?

The new 2012 Camry

The thing with Camry cars is that they are so easy to drive and so quiet. I like. It's like driving perfection.

I just saw some photos of the new Camry, which has been released in the U.S. and will probably make its way here by mid 2012. It almost looks the old Camry. Same lines, same curvy doors. Except that from the front, it looks a little masculine. Kind of aggressive. I'm not so sure I'm into that. If only it's as sexy as a Jaguar.

Booty looks the same. Which is a plus point with me, because I like the booty.

But the interior is something else. Look at the dashboard! Does that look like the BMW iDrive system to you?



Anyhoo, I read somewhere that the new Camry has the Entune system, which can be connected to your smartphone and the web via the phone's bluetooth. And which means what? A ride that's more connected? More entertaining? Sorry, I got a little lost in all the geeky talk of navigation, streaming and connectivity.  

But what's clear is that as far as infotainment is concerned, the Camry has finally evolved.

Oh and I love love love the red metallic. It will go so well with my Prada.

Mighty Mighty All Blacks

Rugby World Cup 2011 Finals. Awesomeness.

It was so tense at times. I fluctuated between intense pleasure and severe depression. One moment I was punching the air and doing the poco-poco, the next I was almost zombied out muttering incoherently. I wish that Weepu could kick as well as he did the hakka. Missed once, okay, I can forgive. By the time he missed the third kick, I could just kick him!

But The Mighty All Blacks won. That's all that matters. Congratulations, New Zealand!

Look. Only real men cry.

 And the victory parade. Wish I was there all right.

Wish I was there, well because the hunky chunky All Blacks won. And also because it was against France! Dear god, the level of attractiveness on that field!



Trinh Duc



Dimitri Szarzewski


Did I tell you how much I love this game?

My weird palm

The other day I went to a new place for my mani-pedi. And the manicurist turned out to be a wannabe palm reader too. Groan.

As she was giving my hand a good massage, all of a sudden she gasped and shrieked OH MY GOD. And gripped my hand.

I freaked a little. What? I said. What's wrong?

And I tried to pull my hand away. I didn't like her nails digging into the soft flesh of my hand.

You have a perfect simian line. She whispered. Then still gripping my hand, she stared at me with narrowed eyes.

My mind went blank. What's a simian whatever? Am I going to die?

Then she asked me, Are you Down's Syndrome ah?

Huh?

Okay, I've been diagnosed as many things, but never Down's Syndrome. I laughed so much my tears rolled down my legs.

And the funnies didn't end there. She tried to teach me about palm lines and how they tell the future.  

Normal people ah, they have a curved Heart Line and another Head Line. See yours? You don't have. You have one line, because your heart line and your head line are joined. So your hand is very rare. 

And then she said - You are either very clever or very stupid. 

Excuse??

Normal people's hand




My hand


I went back home and googled this simian line thing.

Aiyo. The simian line name stems from the word primates because monkeys and apes were believed to have this line. Sigh. I guess I have not completely evolved then?

But then the more I read, the more conflicting the opinions become. And the more nonsensical this whole thing is about reading lines and creases. So mumbo jumbo. Lines are just lines. Period.

Now I need to find a new manicurist.

Bringing up a real man

It's never easy to bring up children. It's horrendously difficult to bring up a boy and hope one day he'll be a real man.

It's tough training. What's it they say? Boys are made of frogs and snails. And puppy dogs tails. Absolutely true. Boys are boys. They get dirty, noisy and in general wreak havoc everywhere they go. The stuff migranes are made of.

But now, Alex opens doors for me, carries my bags, and his sister's bags. When I come home , he meets me at the door. And when I'm tired and grouchy, he brings be a Coca Cola.

Lest I brag, (okay I am bragging), I think I'm doing a darn fine job.

My only small complaint is now that he's a teen, he doesn't want to kiss or hug much anymore. Whenever I attempted to cuddle him, he'd give me that look that said ewww.

And when I told him I love him, he'd grunt and say he too. But if I said it too many times, he'd say in his gruff man voice- Okay mum, okay.

I love him.

Forgive and Forget?

My CEO, he posted this on his BBM status about a month ago - "The weak can never forgive".

It's still there. And how I hated him for it. Yes I know he didn't invent it. It was Ghandi, wasn't it. But still, I agonized over it.

So I rehashed it with my team of brains, over generous portions of Kenny Rogers Roasters and all-you-can-drink Coca Cola.

We volleyed it back and forth. We talked about people and stuff that made us angry, that hurt so bad. We talked about why words have such power to cut deep and make you wanna die (OK this wasn't from me). We talked about people we wish could just drop dead and die. (wasn't me either).

We talked about why we should forgive. And there's no argument there. We forgive, because God says so. And also because it's such an ugly thing to nurse an old wound and bear grudges. I don't want to live in hate and neither would I wish my three darlings to.

We argued about what it really, really means to forgive. And this is the clincher. What if. What if we CANNOT forget? Does that count? Can you say you've forgiven if you have not forgotten?

I know a lot of people would say that as long as you forgive, but can't forget, that's okay. As long as you forgive lah. As long as you say those words - "I forgive you, man".

Bull.

Let me break this down.

Let's say you lent a friend some money and she promised to pay it back But then she doesn't. And along the way, you told yourself, I forgive her. But one fine day, she asks you for money again. And you remembered what happened! And you say no.

So. Is that forgiveness?

Of course not lah kan.

What forgiveness really is, it involves forgetting. Just like how God forgives us. (Heb. 8:12). I think my prayer from now on is, God, please give me amnesia. Please.

I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive.  Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note - torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.  ~Henry Ward Beecher

Of National and Vernacular schools

So much has been said about our state of education. Of national and vernacular schools. Of the teaching of maths and science in English or in Bahasa Malaysia. Of Article 152. Of the decline of the English language. Of the quality of our graduates, or lack thereof.

Everyone seems to have something to say, no matter how really off tangent. And particularly when we talk about vernacular schools.

Early in the year, I thought with the Prime Minister's assurance that vernacular schools are here to stay, this would no no longer be an issue. We would stop talking about closing vernacular schools. We would accept that in this country, we would always have diversity. And one day, maybe even learn to truly celebrate this diversity. And we would always have a dual school system and the way forward would be to discuss on improving school management. Education reforms would centre on delivering quality and producing a thinking generation.

But no. Still an issue. Still very much a thorn. There are many who would still bemoan that vernacular schools promote racial segregation and obstuct national unity. Do they really? And they argue that if we really are Malaysians and if we want to see a truly 1Malaysia, we should send our children only to national schools. For country and unity.

Why do people think that if we are all educated the same way, speak the same language and suffer the same system, we will then be united.

17 years ago, I made the decision to send my child to a national school, rather than to a chinese vernacular school. It wasn't because I wanted her to mix with other races. It wasn't because I was turning my back on Mandarin. It wasn't because I was more malaysian.

Being the dreamer that I was, I wanted my kids to enjoy their growing up years. I wanted them to have time to play, watch TV, laze about, dream and go beyond textbooks. I wanted them to lose themselves in fairy tales and have a tad more imagination.

Yes, I knew in Chung Hwa school, she would most probably have far better teachers, master the mother tongue and be a mathematics genius. And she would learn discipline and be a very well mannered child. And would not have messy hair. A brighter future surely.

But I also know she would have endless pages of written homework. And not to mention the endless memorizing and reciting of multiplication tables. The regimented style, the rote learning - those weren't quite the turn on. Not for me.

So national schools or vernacular schools? There is no one right system of education. There is no moral high ground.

My beef is with those who refused to see it for what it is. What education must be, it must be relevant. Whether national or vernacular school, we should teach our children not only the rudiments of reading and writing, not only science and maths, but also allow them to think critically, and give them space to discover their talents and interests.

We tell our children what they can be. Do we also teach them who they are and who they can be?

Pantang. The Chinese way.

I am a first generation Malaysian Chinese. For the most part, I'm happy to be identified as such. Really. It's cool.

But. For the life of me, I can never understand why we have so many pantangs. (superstitions and taboos) A lot are downright crazy and ridiculous. No wonder they call us the kiasu, kiasi. and kiabo.

You see, for the Chinese, events are either auspicious (red) or not (white). The red kind of events are happy occassions like weddings, births, birthdays and festivals. The white kind are the bad stuff. Like deaths. Red and white can never mix. If you're getting married, you can't attend a funeral. Pantang!

Oh ya. Red and red also cannot mix. So if you're getting married, you cannot attend another wedding. Not even if she's your best friend. Pantang!

I am convinced that some of these pantangs are so designed to put women in our place and make us miserable.

Do you know that men are not allowed to do "female stuff" such as sweeping the floor or do the laundry or feed the baby? Bad luck. Pantang!

Women must let the men folk walk first. You girls, trail a few steps behind okay. What? Walk side-by-side? Bad luck. Pantang!

Girls, if you change seats at a meal, it probably means you're going to change husbands too. Oh and if you don't finish up your rice, count the number of grains you leave there. And that will be the number of pimples your hubby will have. And don't shake your legs. You're shaking the good luck away. Pantang!

When eating, never point your chopstick, knife or fork directly at someone, unless you want that someone to have an accident. And never talk when you are eating. Yap Fung. Pantang!

When using a broom, always sweep from behind the front door and progressively work your way to the back door. Do not sweep anything out of the front door. Never! Otherwise, no more good luck for you. Pantang!

And never let that broom sweep over your leg. Pantang!

Weddings are happy occassions and the rituals and taboos surrounding these are legendary.

First of all, you cannot marry anyone with the same surname. But if you're from a filthy rich family, and you want to keep the wealth within your family, ok-lah, you can marry that cute cousin. No kidding.

The wedding dinner should be a nine-course meal and fish must be served. The wedding flowers should never be yellow or white because these are the colours of death and poverty. Choose only red flowers. Square or rectangle cakes look like coffins. Get only round cakes and your marriage will last forever. No 4 tier cake. In fact no 4 anything or anywhere. "Four" is a seriously BAD word. Major Pantang!

Pregnancy and Giving Birth are also major happy events. And again a slew of taboos.

During pregnancy, the mum-to-be cannot sew. Cannot kill (not even mosquitoes). Cannot eat or drink anything that's dark-coloured, like coffee or soya sauce ( becos your baby will have dark skin and your mum-in-law will accuse you of having an affair with an Indian). Cannot eat or drink anything cold. Cannot paint (baby will have birthmarks). Cannot move your funiture around. Cannot get angry. Cannot attend weddings. Cannot attend funerals. Cannot have sex. Pantang!

Once the baby is born, the mother enters the Confinement period. But really, Confinement is just another name for Imprisonment. Thirty days of hell.

In confiinement, the mother cannot shower nor wash her hair for 30 days. In fact, she's not allowed to touch water. Pantang!

No fruits or vegetables generally. Cook everything with sesame oil and ginger. If possible, squeeze the juice out of those ginger and drink au naturel. I tell ya, it burns all the way down and I mean way way down. And no beef, lamb or mutton. Causes itchiness. Pantang!

Cannot go out. Cannot bring the baby out. Cannot switch on the fan. Must wear socks all the time, even in 34 degrees Celcius! Must drink only hot water. Pantang!

Cannot praise your baby. Not even if she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Cannot say good girl, or clever girl. Because the opposite will happen. And if someone else says that, quickly say Choi choi choi! Bad girl. Ugly girl.

Oh ya. CANNOT CRY.

These beliefs, taboos, superstitions, I used to laugh and brush them all off. Guess what. Still alive. But now, in my tender old age, I'm more sensitive to other people's sensitivities.

Still, I think it's true only if we believe it's true. I believe in God. Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world.  

A true friend

You know how, with some people, you find it so easy to be friends with. They are naturally friendly, naturally warm, and you feel an instant connection. Suddenly, WHAM! you feel you've known each other for years.

I am not one of those people. In fact, I've been labelled a Snob, more times than I care to count.

But I feel really lucky and blessed that I have met and formed real friendships with quite a few who are of the warm, fuzzy, caring, sort. The complete antithesis of me.

Like Jit Pang. A chance meeting at a christian youth camp in 1989 and we've been pals ever since. Lost touch for more than 15 years but then when we got back in touch, it's like hey, same same. Without skipping a beat, we could talk, scold and heap abuse at each other, like only the rarest of friends could.

This is an old picture, I was er.. 18, and thought big hair and looking like a lioness was cute. Arrggh. Yes, you can laugh.  

 This is him now, with his beautiful family. How he has grown ya.

Jit's been a youth pastor for a few years. He may be at a crossroad now, seeking direction, but I know he'll be OK. He will continue to touch many lives, cos his heart has always been for God. Never holier than thou, never judgemental. A true servant.

And a true friend.

Get Up. It's OK to fail.

Every once in a while, we stumble and fall. And we get overwhelmed by every crappy thing around us.

This, is for a friend, who feels she's not achieving anything. That everything seems to be leading to a dead end. But I know, she needs to get right back up and plod on.

So I've compiled a list of all these people who have had their share of failures, some seriously epic, but have all triumphed in the end. And what successes they were.

Harrison Ford - The Vice President of Columbia told this actor that he was never going to make it in the business. 

John Grisham - His first book was rejected by 12 publishing houses and sixteen agents.

The Beatles - Turned down by a recording company saying “We don’t like their sound and guitar music is on the way out”.

Beethoven - Told by a music teacher “as a composer he is hopeless”.

Walt Disney - Fired from a newspaper because he “lacked imagination and had no original ideas”.

Chicken Soup for the Soul.– Were told by Publishers that “anthologies didn’t sell” and the book was “too positive” Rejected a total of 140 times. It now has 65 different titles and has sold over 80 million copies all over the world.

Thomas Edison - Told by a teacher he was “too stupid to learn anything”.

Albert Einstein - Wasn’t able to speak until he was almost 4 years old and his teachers said he would “never amount to much” –

Michael Jordan - Was cut from the high school basketball team, went home, locked himself in his room and cried.

Marilyn Monroe – Producer told her she was “unattractive” and could not act.

Julia Roberts - Auditioned for All My Children and got rejected.

Stephen King- Received 30 rejections and the author threw it in the trash. Luckily his wife fished it out again and encouraged him to resubmit it. The book was Carrie.


Don't ever quit trying. You are better than a failed attempt.

Let's finish strong.

Breakfast @ Kuching

Kuchingites are a quirky lot. They can't live without kolok mee. It's just dry noodles really, with mince meat, cha siew and some red cha siew sauce.

I don't get how this can be so addictive. In fact, when I first moved to Kuching, I didn't appreciate it much. But ask any true blue Kuchingite. In fact, just mention kolok mee, and watch them get weak in the knees.

Now, Sarawak Laksa, I like. I can eat this everyday. It's very different from Penang Laksa. This, I liked from the first slurrp. This, I would kill for. I particular like the one from Chong Choon Cafe at Abell Road. That bowl, I would scrape till the very last morsel and then lick it clean. Yums maximus.

This next one is another fave of mine. Comfort food. Foochow mee sua, with red wine. I hear Foochow women take this five times a day during confinement. Lucky them. It's light, but so super delicious. The chicken and mee sua, so infused with the red wine and ginger broth, is just simply yums. Even Nat, my picky little eater, digs this.

Simple fare. Simply yums.

Tough questions kids ask

Clarissa's my first born. And from the time she could talk, she never stopped asking questions. Her inquisitiveness drove me nuts. She would ask questions like :

Why is there a voice inside the telephone?
Are there people inside the TV?
Can I telephone Barney?
What is a boy?
Why can't our dog talk?
Why does daddy snore so loudly?
Why does daddy fart so loudly?
Are the clouds crying again?

Lucky me, I always got the questions. Because Daddy would simply say "Go ask your Mummy".

But it's OK. I could answer her questions. And most of the time, I would always try to give her the honest lowdown, in words that she could understand. Why does daddy snore? Oh. He has a frog in his throat, darling. All grown-up men do.

When she was 4 years old, Alex was born. And all those answers I gave her, she passed on to Alex.



Did you know Alex, that daddy has a trumpet in his backside? That's why he farts so loudly.

The toughest questions tho, were about the birds and bees.

It went something like this :

Clarissa : How was Alex born, Mummy?

Me        : Well, you see this belly button? He squeezed out from here.

Clarissa : Oh OK.

               But how did he get in there?

Me        : Err.. well, Ahh... God put him in there.

Clarissa : Oh OK

The next day, Clarissa was at it again.

Clarissa : Mummy, Daddy said babies are made from sex.

Me        : Err... yes, that's right darling.

Clarissa : What is sex, Mummy?

Me        : Ummm.. it's like when a man and a woman kiss each other. Like what you saw on TV that

               day.

Clarissa : Ewww.. Like kiss naked? On the bed?
Me        : Err... yes, that's right darling.

Clarissa (huge eyes now) : Mummy! Did you and Daddy have sex before?

Me        : Err... yes.

Clarissa : That is disgusting !

Me        : Well I did it because I wanted you and Alex.

Clarissa : Oh. But it's still disgusting. 

               Must I have sex when I'm bigger?

Me        : Oh look at Alex. What's he eating?

Parenting. And that's how it's done.

Men's vs Women's brains

Lifestyle changes needed

It's the Raya/ Merdeka holidays and I've been stuffing my face silly. Yes. I know. I'm a self-confessed food junkie with an insatiable craving and fondness for all things yummy.

You'd think given the stress I have at work, coupled with this indiscriminate eating (and drinking) fixation, my blood pressure would hover at dangerously high levels.

This was taken just an hour ago.

Should I be worried? Is that normal?

I've been to see a few doctors. And all said basically the same things. You lucky thing, you.

But normal is about 120/80. And please God, let me be normal. So my Merdeka resolution is to achieve that.

To increase my blood pressure, I have been told to do ALL of these :

1. Gain weight. Eat eat eat. Especially if it's red meats and high in fat.
2. Don't ever exercise. Just lie down.
3. Take more salty food.
4. Drink more alcohol.
5. Increase my caffeine intake. Think coffee and Coca Cola.
6. Smoke cigarettes or any tobacco product.

Except for the last bit there, I think maybe, just maybe, I can be normal.

Tears of joy.