Rina: (during lunch today) Oi, blog lar something today!

Me: Why? I can’t think of anything to blog leh. It’s the weekend mah. Brains need to chill.

Rina: Aiya, just blog about something lar. Wanna push down that yoga thing out of your main page mar.

Me: Oh ya hor. That sound bit is quite irritating and horrifying. Ok, ok. Will post something up today. Need at least two more entries to push that darn thing to the archives.

Aiyo, what to blog about lar? Errr… any suggestions?

We’ve got this baby for our office use about two years ago. It’s a nice enough projector. Excellent quality (great for movies!). Small and sexy. Never gave any problems, nosirree.

Then a few months ago, something went wrong with the aircondition unit directly above it and it dripped water onto our cute little projector. It got soaked in water for a few hours. We were horrified when we discovered our poor baby soaking wet. We dried as best we could and I brought my hair dryer the very next day to complete the dry-out job. We plugged it in and turned the switch on.

It worked!

We danced a jig around the conference room like a bunch of rainmakers that day. Heh.

Lightning never strikes twice, right?

Wrong.

Two days ago, the aircond malfunctioned again and our hardy baby got twice as soaked. We blinked our eyes in sadness and shock. Surely, it can’t survive this terrible ordeal. Not after being soaked once before. This time, we waited TWO days before we gave the hair dryer treatment to it. And then we plugged it in. And turned it on.

It worked.

Pretty, hardy, honey baby. You are simply amazing.

I honestly do not know why it took us so long to finally dine at Cherokee Steak House, Taman Rashna, Klang. Rina and I have been eyeing the place many, many times all these years. Promising each other that yes, one day we shall go and have dinner there. I heard controversial things about the owner while Rina heard that the posters and stuff decorating the place are very interesting. And so we decided that we should go there at least once in our lifetime.

Finally, finally, we managed to do just that. Recently. And boy, what an experience it was. Reading each and every handwritten poster. Talking to the owner – critical thinker and brilliant communicator that he is. He asked us to call him Uncle Jambu (short for Jambunathan – the father of Stephen and Paul). Uncle J said that each and every paraphanelia in the restaurant has a rich history behind it. Including the two kitties up there.

We were quite dismayed though, at seeing so few patrons there. The whole time we were there, three tables were occupied, including ours. According to Uncle J, there has been stiff competition with many a steak house sprouting up recently like mushrooms after the rain.

After dinner (the Mexican Chicken was very tender and delicious, whereas the grilled lamb was just normal), we were good to go. But Uncle J who can spot chatterboxes (kindred spirits!) a mile away chatted with us and we had a long discourse about the paraphernalia, God, history, organised religion, politics and a whole lot of eye-opening stuff. However, it was getting late and reluctant as we were to end the night, we had to take our leave. Uncle J is certainly something. And we are darn sure of paying another visit there again.

Highlights of Cherokee Steak House: They do not just serve food, but provide counseling services to patrons as well. For the price of a meal(s), marriages have been saved and depressed people found hope for living. This helps normally psychiatrist-shy Malaysians find help for their marital, emotional and mental problems in a less-than-formal setting. What an amazing concept which reflects the heart of a caring and giving soul.

Rina & Uncle J

Uncle J & I

The restaurant is full of such interesting knick-knacks

Sounds familiar?

SP, Lisa and me. Lisa and I conspired to wear pink today. SP was just psychic

What is it about certain people that you meet and know for a short time but feel like kindred spirits? 14 working days as an intern and already we feel like we’ve known Lisa forever. And now, it’s time for her to leave to continue her studies. Garn. Hate saying goodbyes.

Lisa, we will miss you, girl!

Enjoy this video clip of A mirroring R in doing some fake yoga stunts. And please, pretty pretty please, disable the sound. Trust me, it’s horrific. Haven’t figured out how to mute it yet!

Met up with an old friend’s brother and he was rattling off some names of other old pals.

“Remember that small guy who liked to tease you wan?” he asked.

“Where got? I don’t recall any such person,” I racked my brains and honestly, couldn’t think of anyone who even dared to do that back then. Back then for some reason, I was a very, very serious and melancholy person.

“Got! There… that day at someone’s birthday party. He tried to sabo you with charcoal mah but you screamed at him to stop and freaked him out,” he said with a big grin. “I remembered every single detail of how you both looked. You so fierce and he so scared. Hahahah!”

Omigosh. Now that he mentioned it, I am starting to remember who that small dude was.

He wasn’t finished, “Wah, you know how come I remember so much even though it was years ago ah? We have it all on video tape! Man, it’s so fun replaying that scene over and over again. Our family love watching it every so often. Hahahahahah!!”

Wah lau eh… Now I know why some members of the family always treated me with fear and reverence.

I forced a bright fake smile upon my stiff lips, “TS ah… So funny hor? Can you like pass me that video tape someday soon so that I can snip it into itsy bitsy pieces and pretend that it never existed recall those funny, funny moments?”

“Sure, one day you come over and watch it with us lar,” he said unsuspectingly.

Scissors. Someone give me scissors.

On 2 Nov 2004, Theo Van Gogh (a Dutch filmmaker) was murdered. Senselessly. Brutally. All because he produced a movie of 9/11 that portrayed the ugly face of terrorism. Does that By a man who says that he’ll do it

Reading this beautiful tribute to him just wanna make me weep. Rest in peace, Theo.

What pissed me off is the son’s classmates who tormented him after his father’s death. As if it’s not enough that he had to lose his father, they have to subject him to further humiliation and pain.

Pigs, all of them.

Before The Countdown
Soundtrack: Only Time by Enya

Went for a very relaxing facial session on Sunday just before rehearsals. Gosh, it was such a wonderful treat – am not referring to the painful blackheads extraction process but to the awesome face and shoulder massages. But it took a little longer than expected and when I finally left that place, I had just about 10 minutes to eat lunch and make it to the rehearsal on time.

The Countdown Begins
Soundtrack: Mission Impossible Theme Song

1:20:00 pm – 1:20:30 pm: Debating on whether I should skip lunch altogether and just grab a Milo or something. My stomach growled ferociously at that and I decided to have something more substantial.

1:20:30 pm – 1.21:00 pm: Asked my tummy what it wanted as fuel. It insisted on rice and dishes.

1:21:00 pm – 1.21:15 pm: Dashed to the nearest nice makan place which serves yummy economy rice.

1:21:15 pm – 1:21:30 pm: Bumped into some friends from dumc having lunch in a cosy bunch. Was sorely tempted to join them but the 10-minute countdown thingy snuffed that thought out. So just managed a cheery hi to them before dashing for the foodies.

1:21:30 pm – 1:22:15 pm: Asked for a plate of rice. Heaped loads of food onto my plate. Food selection criteria: anything spicy red and leafy green.

1:22:15 pm – 1:23:00 pm: Waited for my turn to pay.

1:23:00 pm – 1:29:00 pm: Sat alone looking like a social outcast. Ordered teh peng (iced tea) and attacked my food. And then one by one I saw some friends from my old church coming into that eating place and they came by to say hi to me. They nodded understandingly when I gestured to them that I wasn’t good company then as I had to rush off very soon. My dear friend, Jenn spotted me as well and we smiled and waved cheerily at each other.

“Why are you sitting all alone?” she asked when she approached me, knowing full well that I’m no hermit. Ok, I am actually a closet hermit, but that’s another story altogether.

“I am rushing for rehearsals and I don’t have time to yak and shovel food into my mouth at the same time,” I said. “But do sit. I can eat and listen at the same time. You just need to do all the talking.” All this while paying for my teh peng and stuffing food into my mouth. A lot of hand and facial gestures were involved as well. Gross, I know. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

But Jenn was such a good friend that she didn’t see the uncouth, multitasking pig feeding in front of her. Instead she saw the old friend whom she missed sorely. And so she sat. And updated me with the exciting goings-on in her life and church. She talked about the revival happening in her family and how much her dour brother had changed to be an enthusiatic person for Christ.

As if on cue, her very dishy brother walked past our table and he waved and grinned at me. I was dazzled by his 1000-mega watt smile and bright eyes. Food chewing stopped for about 15 seconds.

“Wow, he really has changed. I’ve never seen him smile that way before,” I remarked in awe as I waved back weakly. After swallowing my food, of course.

I shovelled the last bit of food into my mouth. Said hi to another close friend of Jenn’s and made promises to meet up after rehearsals are done. Hugged and said our goodbyes. And then dashed off to church.

1:29:00 pm – 1:30:00 pm: Arrived at church on time. Phew, what a rush job!

Life’s like that sometimes. When you are absolutely pressed for time, it starts raining dear old friends (and one cute guy).

Having a wacky person like William in my cell group (non-terrorist in nature lar) reminds me of this favourite childhood poem. I liked it so much that I memorised it in a jiffy. And recite it whenever I need something silly to cheer me up. Still remember some parts of it today. I like it because it rhymes, catchy and is downright funny!

I feel for Father William and am tickled pink by his response to the constant bombardment of silly questions from his pesky son. I like poems that crack me up and there are not too many of those around.

Will, this is for you!

Father William

“You are old, father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head–
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door–
Pray what is the reason for that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling a box–
Allow me to sell you a couple?”

“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak–
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose–
What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father. “Don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs.

By Lewis Carroll

Nice poem… hope my kids won’t recite it to me at my old age..
~ Will