Tuesday and Wednesday

Yesterday was a very hectic day for me.

My colleagues wanted to come for a visit and me being me couldn’t let people in my house before I cook for at least 20 people.

Since Chris, Sam, Farah and Prema were coming straight from work, I started my preparation the night before. Which was murder because we were out late celebrating my dad’s birthday.

Anyway, when I got home, I cooked the ratatouille for vegetable lasagna. Layered the lasagna and bunk it in the freezer. In between making the lasagna, I made the chicken pie. And bake cakes. Chicken pie also went into the freezer and the cakes were left in the oven.

Went to bed wondering why I just can’t ask Neti to make her super duper delicious nasi goreng and ayam berempah.

Morning, instructed Neti to take out the frozen goodies out of the freezer by 4 and start baking them by 5. Oh, please take out the cakes first before you do that.

Came home to a delicious smelling home.

Chicken pie.

Vegetable lasagna

Took out the ingredients for carbonara out and boiled water for the pasta.

While waiting for my friends to come, cut the cakes into halves. 1 became strawberry jam sandwich and the other chocolate sandwich.

Started the carbonara sauce 5 minutes before they arrived.

Spaghetti carbonara. Dah nak habih baru Christina ingat nak ambik gambar..he he

The girls came to have a look at Uncle Lee’s work actually and they were very impressed. They toured the house and took pictures. Then makan time. Bless.

Then, group pictures.

Since I know I could never cook just enough for everybody, I made sure Babah invited Ian to join us. He is essential to ensure no food go to waste. Sadly my friends had to leave before Babah or Ian came. Next time then, yeah ?

When with Ian, great conversation is ensured so we talked and talked and talked until midnight.

The kids mengaji, mak bapak melepak. Abang Kamal joined in the fun time when he came to pick up his son.

So it was nice. Tiring sure, but when you are surrounded with friends, who cares ?

Complain, complain, complain...

Hullo friends.

Those who knew we went to Langkawi, tunggu sat no…. Gambaq belum download. Camera dah bawak mai office dah tapi battery dah kong. Satgi re-charge esok aku tulih na….

I was reading an entry on a friend’s blog about her impending move to a new house. Well… yesterday I was just cursing my inability to get my way when renovating the house and her topic refreshed my anger anew.

So here is a list of the things that I hate and positively want to change about my 8 month old house (well we moved 8 months ago but the house is my age. Built in 1976..)

1. The patio. I had wanted a full wooden patio. Got the wooden tiang (what the hell is tiang in English ?), the nice wooden bumbung (Dear God, what is bumbung in English ? Oh… roof ? Doesn’t sound right, though….) but alas the flooring is tiled. Dunno why when I went to choose the tiles, I voted for gray. It looks horrible. Should have chosen brown tiles or orangey hues.

So now I am just buying my time to either deck it, which costs like RM 6,000 or re-tile it which would cost about RM 2,000. The question is, which would make me happy ?

2. The grill. I totally hate it. I chose the colour (which is again a wrong one) and the design (which I really like, so pheww !) but the workmanship was horrible. Babah's father wanted us to use his errmm…. griller (?) but they had close shop. We went around Kota Damansara one day and found an advertisement of a griller/roofer. Went to talk to them and they quoted. We were thinking of having another leisure look but it turned out the very next day, the price of steel would be up and if we don’t pay the deposit that day itself, the price would go up RM 5-6 k more.

Called my contractor and he confirmed the stroy. The price of steel would indeed go up the very next day. We have no choice really. Made of money we are definitely not and there are plenty we could do with the RM 5-6 k.

So we agreed and it turned out bad. The workmanship is sooooo terrible, I wept. I will definitely change them. Wished I had waited. To save RM 5-6 k, I now need to spend a further RM 15 k to change the grills. Damn !

3. The window. First, wrong colour. Should have chosen silver. Actually I had wanted red, to match my door but contractor said there are no red ones. So fine. But 2-3 months ago went around Sek 7, looking at the new houses and guess what ? They were all kitted out with gloriously red window frames. Damn !

Secondly, the size. I had wanted bay windows, like my mom’s. Contractor said no because he said the foundation of the wall would be too soft with too little concrete. Made sense but when I went to my friend’s Jida’s house in Bukit Jelutung, everybody there had lovely bay windows. Hers was only supported by I think, 5 inches wall. So why can’t I have bay windows and she can ? It doesn’t make sense !!

Thirdly, I need more windows. The house is dark. Don’t know why. Contractor was shock himself when he came for a visit because we have plenty of windows but the house is still dark. More windows then. Or maybe I need yellow tiles…. Hmmmm…. Naaah….

4. Kitchen. I have plenty of grief bout me kitchen, the most integral part of the house.

a) Floor. It is so hard to keep the tiles clean and shiny. Plus, I can’t see the ants because they blend very well with the colour (black tiles). Plus, I think it is one of the reasons why my kitchen is not cheerful. Should change it to white or made it black and white checked.

b) Table top. I had wanted a marble slab. But I got a black tiled one. Even a wooden one is better because again it is so hard to make it shine nicely. Berbelak-belak…. Hate it. I am forever cleaning it.

c) Island table top. It is white. Kayu some more so it stains. Am thinking of changing it to one of Ikea’s brown wooden slabs.

d) Glass door. Opens the wrong way. Plus it needs a door stopper to stay open. Why ? I don’t want that !!

5. Library. I fell in love with Catherine Zeta Jones’ shelves in her movie… err… the one with Aaron Eckhart…both of them are chefs…. Anyway, in that movie, her book shelves are lovely turquoise. Mine turned out to be light green at a certain angle and pink most of the time. Plus, it is not enough to hold all my books. I need more space… and shelves. No… I need to organise it better. Heh…

.

6. Bathrooms. Requested for glass wall to separate the bathing area from the rest of the bathroom. Requested for a brick high floor separator to ensure water wont spill to the rest of the bathroom. Very much wanted an isolated wet area. But no. The contractor gave loads of reasons and at the end, my bathroom is wet after every bath. Why ?

6. Driveway. First of all, it is tarmac. Yuck. Second of all, the guy who did it didn’t do it well. The black stones are not properly set in and therefore we have loads of black gravel all over. When it rains, it clogs the drain. So there. A nuisance. Plus the driveway is a bit bumpy and therefore needs a lot of work (and money) to make it nice and straight.

7. Flower trough. Requested for a nice window box but got a trough instead. Hated it. So now I will have to have it taken down a few inches because it is too high.

8. Semut. I hate them. There are plenty of them, destroying my plants. Hate them.


Ungrateful ? Probably. But these are my grievances and something that I have to resolve. When you renovate your house, have a long think. Do not choose under duress or when you are not motivated.

Trust me.

A lovely weekend again... I am soooo lucky

I had a lovely weekend.

Sayang… I was too busy to take any pictures of the that very lovely Saturday however it will be one of the days that I will remember forever.

It started when my best friend who was holed up in Bangkok and Singapore for 3 weeks suggested a meeting. Everybody jumped to the idea and funnily a cooking session was agreed upon. I was to teach puri and Sheik was to demonstrate the ways and the hows of making briyani.

Everybody else was to bring a dish. Yum…….

My day started with Adik’s school parent and teacher meeting. Went there for 20 minutes then rushed back home to prepare. Luckily Neti had already fried the chicken for the briyani and I did the shopping the day before so what to do but bake cookies.

Amelia came right on the dot. I was praying upstairs when she came but I heard her voice anyway. What a pleasure to see her again. She had beef curry and delicious coconut jelly with her. Took out the flours for the puri and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

They trickled in, these Malays… ha ha… with food in their hands. Min came with cendol, Bei came with Babah’s favourite sago gula melaka, Noreen her infamous chocolate cake, Kamalia the ingredients for briyani and our surprise guest, lovely, lovely Cho came bearing sandwiches. Good one.

I started my class… he he….Fried a few rounds then Sheik started his lesson. We ate and learnt and talked and cooked… It was such fun. I totally love it.

At 5.30 the main course was ready and we set up the table. It was groaning with food. Marvellous.

Ian, Babah’s colleague came at 5.30 then Shazad and Fadzli appeared 10 mins after . Super !

People were all over the house. The countless kids were upstairs, in the library and running amok in the garden. People were eating in the garden, in the dining room, the living room and in the kitchen. I was so happy to see my house filled with friends.

Babah, Amelia and Ian left with Noreen to test drive her car and came back with more ice and drinks.

Ice-cream was taken out, food was disappearing fast and at last, plastic bags and containers were filled with food to be taken home. My friends helped to clean up. What a thoughtful bunch.

Everybody left when Maghrib came a calling except for Ian. He stayed on until midnight where we had a really good time talking and chatting and slowly putting the house back together again.

I went to bed deliriously tired with super aching feet (Amelia, reflexology session in order, please…) but I was so happy, who cares, yeah ?

Thank you, friends.

Next one in the agenda, husbands only cooking session, at Min’s and Farid’s. Yeah !!

Kelakar...

I like this. Even though this is a joke, but it is so very true...

Catatan Harian Isteri dan Suami

Rumitnya seorang isteri, dan simplenya seorang suami...jadinya kena selalu berfikiran positif...barulah tercipta rumahku shurgaku!

BUKU HARIAN ISTERI

Malam Minggu - Dia berkelakuan aneh. Sebelumnya kami berjanji bertemu di Cafe. Aku shopping seharian dengan kawan-kawan, sehingga mungkin dia kesal karena aku agak lewat sampai di Cafe, tapi dia tak bercakap.

Dia tak bercakap langsung, jadi aku ajak dia pergi ke tempat yang agak sunyi supaya kami dapat berbincang,dia setuju tapi tetap diam membisu. Aku tanya apa yang salah - dia jawab, "Tak ada".Aku tanyakan apakah kesalahan ku yang membuatnya kesal. Dia kata hal ini tak ada kaitannya dengan ku dan minta aku tak usah sibuk.

Dalam perjalanan pulang, ku katakan aku mencintainya, dia cuma tersenyum tipis dan tetap membisu. Aku tak dapat menjelaskan perangainya petang itu. Aku tak habis-habis berfikir kenapa dia tak menjawab, "Aku cinta kamu juga".

Sesampainya dirumah, aku merasa kehilangan dia, dan seolah-olah dia tak menghendaki ku lagi. Dia hanya duduk dan nonton depan TV; dia terlihat jauh dan menghilang.....Akhirnya aku putuskan untuk tidur.

Lebih kurang 10 minit kemudian, dia masuk ke kamar. Aku tak tahan lagi, ku putuskan untuk menghadapinya dan menanyakan soal sebenarnya, tapi dia langsung tertidur. Aku mulai menangis sampai tertidur.

Aku tak tahu apa yang harus ku lakukan. Hidupku terasa bergoncang.....

BUKU HARIAN SUAMI

Hari ini REAL MADRID kalah. SIALLLLL!!!

Happy 16th Anniversary, Babah

Yesterday was our 16th anniversary, Babah and I. When I said anniversary, it is not our wedding but our… errm… together-gether ? He he….

We somehow value 13th April more than we do 4th September, so this anniversary is much waited for. Leading up to yesterday, Babah and I talked about us a lot, you know our feelings being together this long, what we have accomplished in the relationship (2 angels/little terrors) and our predictions for the future.

We agreed that presents will be given during birthdays this year (can’t exchange presents for all the important dates, can we….kapak oiii….) and so I was surprised when he said he had something for me, something small… nothing expensive.

We were having dinner at Strawberry Fields café at that time. It was our favourite hangout during our courting days. Of course at that time it was a much more elegant restaurant in Subang Parade. Babah happened to mention that he wished we could still go to Strawberry Fields for ol’ time’s sake and I thought why not, we can still go… only the location is different, and it is café this time around.

So we went, with our kids. As we ate (the food is not the same. Too extensive menu, we struggled to locate our past favourites. Not only that, the quality had gone down drastically), and watched the kids bickered and demanded for our attention, I sighed, asking my husband what kind of anniversary outing is this ? He he….

Anyway, after dinner I was gagging for chocolates (it is near to the time of the month) and was frantically looking for some at the shops. Babah however insisted that he got some in his car. I know his taste and I do not fancy plain milky ones at the moment, but boy was he insistent.

So okay, went inside the car very much dejected. He entered with a plastic bag in hand, took out a Ferrero Rocher and said, “All the chocolates that I have plied you with during our 16 years….” with a sweet smile on his face. Dipped his hand in the plastic bag again and took out a Twix, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, Strawberry Caprisonne, Toblerone (alas it was chocolate milk as I only eat dark chocolate ones… however they are non-existant anymore so I said nothing… he he) and lastly, a bottle of Orangina.

I love Orangina, a love affair started when small… something that always reminded me of my childhood. So sweet.

Sighh…. Babah. You know, he did that once, years ago… 15 years to be exact. Ha ha… It was our 7 month anniversary (gatal…) and we were at Kelab Shah Alam for our school farewell party. We were in Anu’s Estima with Amelia and Shazleen at the back seat.

Babah was due to do his Umrah the very next day and I was maudlin. We were already on the way to find food when suddenly he pulled out a bag from underneath the seat. One by one he took 6 stuffed toys to represent the 7 months (again, gatal…) we have been together. There were various dinasours, a cat and a troll with pink hair and the seventh, he announced is him.

I was touched but also rather embarrassed cause I heard Amelia went err… and aahhh….looking pointedly at the scenery, telling Shazleen to avert her gaze. Ha ha…. It was the funniest most adorable night ever.

He is sweet, that boy of mine. I couldn’t help but enveloped him in a tight hug and kissed his cheeks when he pulled the same stunt 15 years later.

Then... “Why are you guys kissing sama-sama ?” Came a voice from behind, putting her head in between us.

Killjoy !!

Happy Anniversary, Babah.

My weekends... ermm... 3 weeks ago...

I think it is very unfair that I only ever write about my busy weekends and never on my more staid ones. Well probably because there was nothing to tell… ha ha…

Two of my current successive weekends were very relaxed but it was a happy one. I am truly blessed because I am surrounded with friends. That was what I like bout my last 2 weekends as it showed me that I have friends, loads of them.

Tasren came 2 Saturdays ago. He arrived at 12 and went home at 6. We had so much fun talking and eating that I wished he could stay over. While I was cooking and talking to Tasren, Amelia called to say she is at the dentist next to my kids’ Art Class and therefore offered to send my kids home.

What a lovely gesture. Thanks a million, Amelia.

Went swimming the next day and had our lunch at the bowling alley. Abang of course pestered us for a game, but Babah and Mummy were tired beyond belief and used the convenient excuse of none of using wearing socks at that very moment.

Last Saturday was Jida’s invitation for morning coffee at her house. While waiting for my kiddies’ piano lessons, Noreen called. So after sending my kids to their art class, fetched Noreen and off we went to Jida’s house.

Luckily I had a navigator next to me because I wouldn’t be able to find her house alone. Kamalia was already there, Fiza who I see around Shah Alam from time to time was there too. But the crème de le crème were of course the host Jida whom I saw last when I was 12 and Louisa. Gosh I haven’t seen Louisa since we were 15, I think !! I had always been very fond of Louisa, a person with the sweetest nature. We used to be neighbours but we lost contact when she went to another school after SRP.

Jida said morning coffee but we were greeted with more than just coffee and cakes. Sure there were coffee (and tea and kiwi juice), 2 whole cakes (one chocolate and jam), loads of cupcakes and scones. There were also nasi lemak plus all its condiments with fried chicken plus there was a steaming lasagna to boot !!

.

Oohhh.... where to start. The hostess was very generous and the food was excellent.

Jida was my childhood playmate, together with Noreen and Kamalia. We used to ride the bus to Kamalia’s house where will play at the very red, hilly area which we fondly called Bukit Bontot Merah. Or most often then not, we would play at a land near Jida’s home which we predictably called ‘Bukit Bontot Hitam’. It was a bit hilly, so I understand the bukit. It was covered with black soil, so yeah to the hitam but I don’t remember the bontot on both venues. Maybe we just like butts at that point in life.

I also remember going to Kamalia’s house and put up a fashion show, using all her clothes, her mom’s and her sister’s in the process, having oodles and oodles of fun.

Sometimes I wish both of the butty hills are still here, all of us are still 11, having a good laugh pretending to be grown ups.

Heh….

Anyway, Sunday Jubei came with her family. Had a good 30 minutes visit. It was short, but they came and it was fun.

I like having my own home. People come and go. It is truly a blessing.

Hmmmm........

I read an interesting reporting in a British newspaper yesterday. A mom was put under police interrogation because she hit her son twice, on the shoulder with a hairbrush. The alleged ‘victim’ was taken by the social services and Mummy was only allowed to see her son for 2 hours a day.

Hmmm….. No wonder there are sooo many hooligans in the UK. No wonder the children are rude and have no respect for the elders or even fear for authority. Not all British children for sure, but quite a large number of them.

The ones that kill their peers and murder adults. Read the papers and you can see that a lot of these things happened. A father was brutally beaten to death because he dared to tell off a group of teenagers to pipe down. Another father was again kicked to death because he dared to rescue his car from being vandalised. Too many stories to tell, too many sad incidents to bear.

Why can’t parents smack their own children to evoke some discipline ? She wasn’t abusing him, she was just disciplining.

If parents virtually have no rights, can you imagine what right do the teachers there have ? You can’t scold , you can’t punish. And the government there have the audacity to wonder why so many children played truant and eventually drop out altogether.

I remember once while in school, something terrifying and sad happened. It was Mr Pala’s class, and good ol’ Mr Pala was the disciplinary teacher at that time. We were having a wonderful lesson (Mr Pala is a wonderful teacher) when another teacher interrupted the class with 3 to 4 boys in tow.

Mr Pala asked them to go to the back of the class and all eyes followed them there. I didn’t realise he was holding a cane in his hand until he was waving it about. Truth dawned and I felt sick. I could literally feel bile creeping through my throat.

He said a few things, asked a few questions and lectured a bit but I didn’t hear anything because I was praying very hard that he won’t do it. Unfortunately, he asked them to stick their butts out and I looked away in horror. I think most of us did.

The sound was bloodcurdling but their silence even more so. I didn’t want to look at them because I just don’t want to remember but I did anyway. I only saw one boy but I will remember that face forever. The pain, the embarrassment, the shame and whatever feelings that I can or cannot identify with were evident.

.

However, what disturbed me the most was Mr Pala himself. He returned to his place in front of the blackboard, not quite the same. His shoulders slumped, his face contorted in what I know now as regret.

“I don’t like doing this, you know…” He said, rubbing his face.

“I never like doing this…” His voice was so quiet, I almost cried.

“I am sorry I have to do this in front of all of you…” He said again. “But it needed to be done…”

I was sad for him and for the boys. You see, nobody wanted to be the punisher. Mr Pala caned those boys not because he wanted to for some power trip, but because these boys did something wrong. It must be a hell lot of wrong to warrant caning. Mr Pala said it needed to be done because he hoped that the caning could act as a deterrent to those boys, a message loud and clear that there is a price to pay for breaking the law and it ain’t pleasant. He derived no pleasure from it and it was so patently clear, I can attest to it.

Afterwards I kept seeing that boy’s face. Every single time his face appeared, I wished and wished that he had learnt his lesson. I hoped and hoped the caning acted as what it was meant to do, a warning that you shouldn’t do this again. I prayed and prayed that that was the last act of disobedience he did. It surely did that for me. I wasn’t the one who got thrashed but I had more respect for rules and regulations after that. Although I was a good girl (still am, mind you), it made me became more of a good girl. It was a lesson taught for everybody that law-breaking, and eventually crime doesn’t pay

Teachers, parents when they punish, they are trying to give a message. Sure you are encouraged to talk nicely first but if all else failed what else can you do ? It is mighty too late you know when jail sentence is given. And no parents or teachers do it like every single day, for minor offences. If they do then that is abuse. If the child is all purple and blue, that is abuse. But a smack on the hand or in this case the shoulder, come on….

Is it better for the boy now that he is separated from his mom ? From his siblings ? In fact when asked, he said he feels sorry for his mom because she needed all the help she can get. What I worry is, if ever there comes a time when he or his sibling were abused, they will not have the will to report to the authority because they have seen the consequences and it ain’t pretty. Or worse next time when mom set some ground rules, he intimidates her with 999.

I agree there is a fine line between teaching and abusing, but I have seen that talking and discussing is not enough, not for everybody though. It will just make them have no respect for their parents. I think you know well how hard it is to deal with teenagers. It doesn’t help when every time you set down a rule, they threatened the police on you.

They became infallible.

Luckily our country is still sensible.

PS : Do I sound like an advocate for child abuse ? Hope not. This is a difficult water to thread.

Explaining my IBS - Irritable Bowel Syndrome

Yesterday, my colleagues forced me to follow them for lunch. I refused as usual because I have to watch what I eat. My condition meant that I can only eat carbs sparingly and being Asian, carbs is the main feature in most dishes. And therfore food on sale is laden with them.

I always tapau. Something that I bring from home or bought early in the morning. I either have a light breakfast and heavy lunch or the other way around. Since moving to this new office where food is hard to find, I usually eat something heavy in the morning and for lunch light stuffs like fruits, biscuits or even cereal.

I have been here 4 months and they are still horrified of my eating habits. “Biscuits only, ah ?” Or “Fruits again ?”

I succumbed to their well meaning pressure yesterday so off I went with them, toting my cereal. As they enjoyed their nasi and mee goreng, the 3 of them kept looking at my food.

“I can’t believe that is all you are eating…” Said one.

“Do you want to order something ? Kenyang ke ?” Said another.

I know, I know… It doesn’t look appetising but this is all I could take. Anyway since I have a big breakfast, I am usually still full by lunch. You see if I have lunch, I couldn’t take dinner and dinner is important to me because it is a family affair. I cannot miss dinner. In order to have dinner, my lunch has to be sparse.

Anyway, dinner is something that I can control. Let’ see. Monday we went to Kuting Besar where I only take the lauks and I was fasting that day, so no breakfast or lunch.

Tuesday bought mee hoon goreng for breakfast, then fruit salad for lunch. Dinner I made chicken sandwiches and minestrone soup, which again I controlled the ingredients. Loads of veg and very little macaroni in the soup.

Yesterday, I heated up the yong tau foo I bought from Monday’s pasar malam. That is breakfast. Cereal for lunch. I made chicken pie for dinner. I am okay eating short crust pastry. I think… well so far I am okay with it.

This morning, chicken soup for breakfast and nothing for lunch because the soup was very filling. Tonight I am making crema e spinachi, which is fettucini with chicken and spinach in cream sauce.

Tomorrow morning I think leftover minestrone, maybe cereal again for lunch and maybe night time I can have some rice, if tonight’s fettucine agrees with my tummy. Or else, a sandwich ? Probably.

Anyway, there you go. That is usually the nature of my menu. I love rice like any normal Asians, but I just can’t. I do not want to bloat. Actually I am sooo bloated right now, I am racking my brain for the cause of it. Surely not milk ?

Hmmm……….

I ask again, "Why ?"

I don’t really understand men. My husband being one is included. Of course. Hah !

One of the things that irritate me to no end, about that husband of mine, is his need to lie about his lunch menus, or lack of. Usually around 3 to 4 pm either one of us would call each other and ask about dinner plans, hoping that the other one has something specific in mind.

What we have for dinner usually is based upon what we each have for lunch. Say if Babah had rice for lunch, we would either have western food or noodles for dinner. But Babah being Babah, 70% of the time would say that he didn’t have anything during the day.

“I tak makan lunch hari ni… kenyang from breakfast…” Or

“I busy giler hari ni tak sempat makan lunch….” Or

“I takde mood nak makan hari ni so I makan biskut/roti/minum air je…” Or

.

"I satu hari tak makan... Breakfast tak, lunch pun tak..."

These proclaimation would be done in a such pitiful way, I would react accordingly, in a very sympathetic manner. It is natural isn’t it ? Kesian Babah tak makan lunch/one whole day.

Sometimes the discussion of what to fill our bellies would linger until we got home whence we would enlist the help of our progenies.

So one day after answering with one of the above and taking the discussion home, I suggested nasi briyani. And do you know what my husband said, “Tak nak lah, I makan nasi tadi….”

I froze, but my eyes blinked and blinked and blinked at him. He had the audacity to ask “Whaaaattt ?” at my frozen, apart from my eyes, state.

“You told me that you had nothing for lunch…. Just now… JUUUUSSSTTT now you said you had nasi….” A sheepish smile formed on his face, which turned into a huge grin.

“What is going on ? Did you have lunch or not.. ?” Asked me, rather forcefully I have to admit, but that is all due to shock and my head was busy trying to decipher the situation.

“Ye ke ?” He had the gall to ask.

I folded my arms and waited …..

“Makan….” He finally admitted. “Tapi sikit je…..” Now wearing a wounded animal look.

I looked at him, eyes never wavered from his face.

“So tell me… berapa percent of the times you told me you had nothing to eat for lunch is true ?”

"UUhmm... Ahhh.... Hmmm..... Errr.......50 ?” And my incredulous face returned.

“Why ? Why ? Why ?” I went and he went, “Saja…..” and grinned.

Now that incident happened like 2 years ago and when I related that story to my trusted colleague Sue, she tried to enlighten me by saying, “Dia macam aku lah, Myra… nak cari simpati…” And I awarded her the same look I gave Babah the night before. Comprehension of it all never came.

Why did I tell this story now ? Well because it happened again last night. And I warned him, that husband of mine. I warned him by saying, “This is sooo going in my blog….”

I kept true to my words.

Why ? Why ? Why ? Help me…

An URRGHHHH story..

I got plenty of grief from my fellow bloggers for not writing. Sorry friends, but apart from being busy, I was … well still am actually, waiting for our photos of our impromptu holiday in Melaka. Everything was already written nicely, just waiting for the pics to accompany the sentences and paragraphs….

I can however write about an incident that I saw oh, 3-4 weeks ago. An incident so horrific, it re-newed my already merepek policy. I also do not have photos of it… well if I do… uwekkk…

So there I was yeah, 3-4 weeks ago, minding my own business. I like my new office because I have a view. The building is like a typical Malaysia’s school architecture. Box shaped from the outside, but there is a garden in the middle (in lieu of badminton/sepak takraw court in our schools). So the interior of the building is fenced by corridors all around.

Anyway, from my place I get to see the other side of the corridor, the other block, and the lift is literally next to me. That fateful day, while I was minding my own business, I saw somebody came out from HR department holding a bag, yeah ? I looked at him walking when suddenly, he lifted his arm, hover it near his face and …. sneakily inserted a finger inside his nose. He was booger scrounging.

The sight was revolting and nauseating but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was riveting. The real problem came when he got to the lift. Now his clean hand was holding a bag, remember ? So which hand did he use to press the button ?

Which hand ?

Which hand ?

Which finger ?

Hah ! I now jab the button with my keys or my tag. Never again.

Then, I started obsessing about door knobs and what nots.

Hmmm….