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