caught

she changes into her yoga outfit and gets ready to leave for class and, in a bid to appear nonchalant (as if actions can ever truly mirror and dictate feelings), picks up her bag and knapsack and leaves the room without looking back.

but old habits are hard to break, and obsessions even harder still.

and as she closes the door the 12 year old in her nevertheless decides to peek over the edge for one last glimpse.

only to find him looking straight back at her.

shite.

dwelling on (my) dwell(ing)

i love this magazine.

i even love the paper it’s printed on, especially the cover (matte paper is soo sexy).

so much so that i decided to subscribe to it.

that was way back in early june.

and my july/august dwell magazine subscription is not here yet.

i was going to write a stern email to them when this morning i noticed a nice chunky parcel in my inbox which was not the least bit work related.

yay!.

my delight however was cut short when, on closer inspection it turns out they have (already) sent me the september issue.

what happened to july/august??

stern email will be sent out after all, then.

grrrrr.

___________________


it’s probably not healthy looking at foreign magazines when you are doing up your house, because you end up hankering after things you can’t have.

right now i want this bed from room&board.














msj, you sure you don’t have space to bring it back for me??

___________________

am getting back into the mood for my house/kitchen (part 3966).

it is therefore a bit worrying that my favourite colour of the moment – for walls, kitchen cabinets, sofa, bed linen, etc. - is one that my sister and i term “SLUDGE”.

must take great care not to end up with a house looking like downtown kl after the recent flash floods.

___________________


in grave danger of getting the red kenwood pattisier after all (to brighten up the kitchen, you understand).

heaven help me.

paolo oh paolo

it doesn’t happen often that msj and i like the same songs/singers, apart from “special ones” our theme men-are-bastards-i-can-do-and-deserve-so-much-better-song from ozzie outfit “george” and also apart from the normal “pop” songs you can’t really avoid on the radio.

and despite forking out RM 104.95 each month to astro i don’t really watch tv/mtv that much (which makes my 3 hour CSI marathon on sundays cost me on average of RM 8.75 per episode) and would only know what singers/groups look like months or even years later.

but i find myself listening to paolo nutini’s song new shoes yesterday about 20 times as linked from msj’s blog.

and googled the lad to find out that not only is he 20 (and cute), he is scottish of italian descent and can actually sing live (and looks damn good doing it).

a cross between james blunt and david gray, if you like.

so here’s some choice acoustic songs from paolo:

autumn

rewind
these streets

did i mention he is cute?

enjoy!

up where we belong

i was born in east malaysia.

in kota kinabalu sabah, in fact.

a few months after that we moved back to kuala lumpur (or was it pj?), a short stint in alor star, back to kl, then to quetta, pakistan for a year, melaka, seremban, and then to kl again.

by the time i was 11, we had moved about 9 times and i had been to 3 different schools, 4 if you count my nursery in quetta, where, at 3 ½ years old, i didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak any english and would cry if my mom didn’t sneak away fast enough undetected.

the last move from kl to the present house was the worst.

i had by then made good friends – our stay in kl just prior to the move was the longest we had stayed anywhere since i was born.

and what was to be my senior year at primary school ruling the roost with friends, never happened.

once again, i was the new kid on the block.

uprooted without consultation.

each time, i would suffer from what i now refer to as the “first day of school” syndrome, that feeling of deepening sickening anxiety coupled with a sensation like a growing lump in my throat and an absurd feeling of wanting to burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

i have been having the very same feeling recently since i sent that inquiring text to my boss and got his reply that i could move down, and had put it down to the impending loss of my perfect view of mrsexy.

but the truth is its not (all) about him.

i have moved before in this office, from the middle room to a different spot in the middle room, to the back room, and to this front one, without any qualms whatsoever.

each time however, the move had been to a better place, and i didn’t feel the slightest bit sick.

but this time it’s different.

i really like my room now.

it’s a proper room with a door that i can leave open and embrace all the goings-ons and banter outside, or keep closed and cut out all sounds from the rest of the office if need be, and play my songs on the pc speakers without disturbing anyone.

from my chair i can see the blue sky outside in the mornings, and the threat of rain in the afternoons.

i can open the blinds and let sunshine in through my two little windows without effecting everyone else; i can open the windows and feel the breeze on my face or smell the rain and when i need a break, roll my chair to the windows or just chill and watch the world go by (and sneak a peak at mrsexy).

i control what i hear who i see, who hears and sees me.

the boss’ room downstairs is bigger, yes, and it has newer and nicer furniture.

but for all that it’s also (only) a glorified cubicle: the “walls” don’t reach the ceiling, and it shares one partition wall with the big boss’ room (hence the request that he not smoke).

i will not be able to shut out sound (or smell), or keep noise in.

i’ve tried opening the blinds but because the second floor has the same floor to ceiling glass concept as mrsexy’s office and the blinds cover the entire width of the glass (and by default most of the room), i either let in too much light, or too little.

a long cabinet blocks access to most of the windows.

i won’t be able to see the sky anymore.

it feels too exposed and strangely claustrophobic at the same time.

on a plus point, moving down would actually make *me* more visible to mrsexy if i have the nerve to open the blinds that much (as he would then effectively be looking down into *my* room whenever he is at the window on the phone).

so if all i wanted was to be more visible to mrsexy (and at least 5 feet closer), moving down would be the best thing to do.

i will still have a partial view of the conference room, but will be looking slightly *up* at it, rather than down (and all the way to mrsexy’s table at the end).

but it won’t make that lone figure huddled in front of his laptop at 11 pm visible to me anymore.

and the loss of that tiny residual shred of comfort, on top of everything else i will lose, is a little too much to bear.

it’s not (all) about mrsexy.

it’s about control.

i’ve made up my mind.

i’m not moving.

now i just need to tell the boss.


(then again for all my rationalisation i could just be a lovesick puppy and don’t want to leave my perfect view of mrsexy. har har).

the beat that my heart skipped

it’s no use.

try as i might i can’t get mrsexy out of my head.

the idea of the move was partly to cut down on my dependence on him.

but the thought of looking across and not being able to see if he is around – or worse, knowing that he is around and not be able to see him still - is making me feel physically ill.

it wouldn’t be so bad if he was just eye-candy (and i had an actual life).

it’s depressingly tragic when (sometimes it feels like) he has morphed to fill up my entire universe (how on earth did i let it get this far???).

one minute am excited about moving down; the next second i panic and can’t breathe.

what am i going to do?

i don’t know.

i don’t know.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.

eviction notice

it’s been niggling at me.

apart from the loss of view of mrsexy hard at work (a mini tragedy but surely the world won’t end? if he comes to the window i have an even clearer view), there was only one thing holding me back …

and so i had to find out …

text to boss:
if i move downstairs to xxx’s room any chance you will stop smoking? : )

reply from boss:
ok i will smoke elsewhere. you can move down.

and just like that, i am moving to the room vacated by my lady boss on level 2.

here’s to new beginnings, and better views.

yay!

(goodbye mrsexy, it’s been fun, am going to miss seeing you huddle over your laptop at 11pm..)

bra 3 arg 0

disgraceful.

i should have just gone back to bed.

(why do the powers that be employ shebby? he is even more annoying than hasbullah "ini-dia-bola" awang on badminton)

be prepared

i was a scout in school. not a girl scout, mind you, a scout. and one of the basic tenets, you guessed it, was “be prepared”.

in college (and quite frankly well into a few of my working years) i couldn’t really give a rat’s arse about wearing much makeup.

our friend s had, at one point given me pointers on grooming, including, as she put it, looking presentable even when you are just out filling petrol at your neighbourhood station.

so this morning, feeling like shit after a really late night at the office, hair still freshly twirled from my usual one-hand-on-steering-wheel drive to work, i almost left the car without “doing up” my face.

but something made me hold back.

and so on top of my rudimentary swipe of face powder i even put on my blusher and a dab of nude lipstick.

coming up the basement stairs i was a bit held up by the lady in front of me; the exit being slightly cramped due to a large car parked there.

distracted, i only looked at the car itself after a few seconds.

and there, right in front of me, sitting in the driver seat of his black x5, close enough to touch (the car that is) and looking straight at me, was mrsexy (who, 13 hours earlier was looking intently across the great divide at me flying my yellow paper planes of frustration).

dagnamit, if only i had time to put on my mascara as well …

(very) broke owner of:

wetsuit and booties.

fishies, here i come!!!

for des

therose's first, saturday nite

how to lose your waistline in 48 hours

alias grace (friday nite) – check
mide 2007 (sat morning) – check
archidex 2007 (sat afternoon) – check
balik kampong (sat - sun evening) – check

was 5 minutes late for alias grace due to 20 mins jam to get on the blasted elevated highway, but mercifully they started late anyway, so didn’t miss as much as could have. moi first ever monologue and even better than expected.

___________________

spent more than 3 hours at mide 2007, tried on countless masks numerous times (and breathless from the effort), and also *this* wetsuit from pinnacle. they unfortunately did not have my size, though will go visit their shop on wednesday and if it fits, push for that 20% discount still.

another 3 odd hours at archidex/lunch. was bigger than homedec but geared more towards the trade, and the ones that aroused interest were the same people seen at homedec anyway.

bone tired, therose and i finally left for kampong, had din by the river and opened up some durian me parents left for us, for dessert.

slept.

____________________

an early sunday, we were all kitted up – hard hats, gloves, mosquito repellent, parang, stick, wheelbarrow, plastic brushes, manggis stick, basket - and in the kebun before 7.30 a.m.

after rounding up the durians, this was what we had to work with:

i don’t know whose idea it was to use the plastic hairbrushes but they work a darned sight better than other implements we have used before (btw on wheelbarrow is the gandalf-rod for mangis thingiemgie).

after our efforts, the durians look like this:

the durian at the right-hand bottom corner of the wheelbarrow … was the creamiest richest one i have had, quite possibly in living memory. there’s still more on the same tree …

in between we managed to squeeze in roti canai brekkie, trip to pekansari (but the pakcik with chopping board was nowhere to be seen), bought packed lunch (including some satay), had lunch (and more durians), napped for about two hours, went on second trip of our rounding up duty, cleaned up them durians (and ate some more), started packing, cleaned up the chalet, showered, had din outside and only managed to leave a little after 10 pm, and reached home at midnite.

_____________________

am dead tired.

and after the durian fest i may just be able to fill out the medium sized wetsuit after all.

time, running out of

the weekend is still a couple of days away and am already thinking i don’t have enough time to do what needs to be done.

there’s alias grace at klpac to be watched (when??!), transformers still to be seen, archidex 2007 at klconvention centre, international dive exhibition at pwtc to possibly (finally?) get my mask and wetsuit, the trip balik kampong for durians (part 2) and manggis with therose, the pekansari for more chopping blocks, gathering cleaning packing durians etc etc.

……..……

went to kino today and bought this (amongst others):

i love this man absolutely to bits.

and then some.

when was the last time a cookbook made you laugh and salivate at the same time??

fruit o’ the looms

'tis the season to be jolly … and full.

my parents have been summoned balik kampong; the durian trees have launched their attack.

yes, after skipping a year, the trees have finally decided to bear fruit again, and it’s back to the orchard this weekend.

in the meantime, must wake up earlier tomorrow and get them mangoesteen fruits from the tree outside my bedroom window before they all just fall to the ground.

wonder where i put the gandalf staff-cum-manggis picker thingiemagie.

ps diaz – manggis kat kampong blom masak; maybe another 2 weeks. coming? same tree for you guys as before kalau nak : )

halva /mraccenture– i can’t believe you guys won’t be around for this!

mothers of the disappeared

i didn’t want to believe it.

surely not.

i made excuses; gave possible explanations, justifications.

anything but face the truth.

but after weeks of questioning and searching, i can’t deny it anymore.

i have to face the facts.

the powers that be have taken my nescafe alta rica off the market.

huwaaaahhhhhhh!!!

my morning and afternoon coffee breaks will never be the same again.

distractions

i think i work better when i am mildly distracted.

little pockets of diversions which make me appreciate (more) the little time i have to focus on the issue at hand.

today, being the third time in as many weeks that i have worn my favourite wench outfit, i feel kinda good.

maybe it was the call this afternoon with the extra yummy sounding spanish client.

whatever it is, today also was the first time mrsexy has seen me in the wench outfit; me in my brightly lit room, and him in his gorgeous office.

and he paused to look across the great divide straight at me (and me him).

twice.

heh.

fcukit la.

so what if other people can’t even understand why i find him sexy (and so what if he is probably married, so what if he is possibly a dad (which makes him sexier); i don’t know him and don’t plan on knowing him; some mysteries should remain just that).

it’s been a crappy week (month, year) and i am allowed - no, entitled - to take my small pleasures where i can find them.

so there.

and who are you, the proud lord said, that i must bow so low?

i was minding my own business mopping the front porch which was muddy from the day-long rain on saturday and noticed out of the corner of my eye that my neighbour’s son, his wife and their two kids were outside about to leave.

i heard a female voice say something and realised i had an audience.

in a coat of gold and in a coat of red, a lion still has claws

sorry, did you say something, i asked.

“boleh buat calun*”, the son’s wife said, with a stupid smirk of a smile on her face (*something that old ladies and smug marrieds would say to single girls, indicating their marriagability).

ahaha, i could just about manage a weak smile back.

what am i, bloody twelve years old??

and mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours …**

……………………………

i must have been on a different planet but apparently, hbo productions had, in january this year purchased the broadcast rights for george r r martin’s entire a song of ice and fire series, with plans for each book from the series to be filmed over an entire season's worth of episodes. martin will script one episode per season.

am giddy at the possibilities.

omg omg omg.


(**partial lyrics of ‘the rains of castermere’ © george r r martin)

the more i try to erase you the more, the more …

change is (usually) good.

at least that’s what people say.

major changes are happening at the workplace, none of them however can actually be categorized as “good”.

i always thought that if anyone were to go, it would (eventually) be me.

so it was a shock when, over a ym conversation in april, my lady boss dropped the bomb that she was leaving.

am losing not just a boss but also a friend of sorts.

who introduced me to japanese food, yoga, tamarind hills/springs, ciao (and countless others); gave me a handphone, pda, various earrings and priceless advise and guidance over the past 11 years.

the only thing of significance i did was make her try on that pretty flouncy skirt at chatuchak which has been her staple style of skirts ever since.

have been in semi-denial the past 1.5 months since i found out, blocking out the inevitable.

it’s hard to believe that in 2 weeks she will be gone.

am scared.

i can’t breathe.

nip/tuck

my poor baby was rear-ended on tuesday and had to be warded for a couple of days.

after two misdiagnosis mid-treatment, and mini anxiety attacks about the revised costs, she was finally released today

she looks like new and smells of paint.

yay.

---------------

i got a text out of the blue last night from mr d&g asking how i was, generally being nice and saying we should grab a bite sometime, and asking when that could be.

what gives??

please do not feed the animals

featuring: the mr sexy tour

honestly, some days it feels like i am watching an aquarium or a reality tv show with the volume turned down.

a morbid fascination, a bit like the uglynakedguy in friends, except he is not ugly and definitely not naked (darn).

maybe i could make a little side business out of this, or at least get more free drinks - see mr sexy in his natural working habitat.

disclaimer - management will however not be responsible for non-performance of the show animals (mal, sorry you didn’t get to see mr sexy under normal circumstances (ie in near darkness, 100% concentration on his work in front of his laptop/poring over documents at his desk, with occasional trips to the window to take calls in the dark, with a lit ciggie (red dunhill), and back again to his desk. mr sexy with all the lights on and totally relaxed kinda takes the edge off his sexiness. and he looks better from the back illuminated by the glow from his laptop anyway. heh).

then there are also the mini side mysteries going on:

1) he comes in car A, and then leaves in car A, but then car B shows up in the parking lot but he is not around (and neither is the wife/mistress/older sister person).
2) occasionally there are mysterious characters in the conference room, even when he is not around which include various mat sallehs with laptops, and once even these 3 tudung labuh women with loads and loads of files.
3) we know part of the name of the company (which is verified by the same name in 2 inch blue letters on their white mugs – yes I have developed super powers, I can see the writing on the said mugs on the conference room table from 25- 30 metres away), but googling the name and address hasn’t given us anything at all.

and today, they seem to be setting up something in the area in front of the big tv/beside the conference table, which seems to be taking a whole lot of effort.

my colleague is also now hooked onto this new silent sitcom of ours, and has been caught looking a few times by mr sexy himself.

we’ll be lucky if we don’t get a restraining order.

but if we do, at least we will know his name : )

24 hour party people

my first ever film festival – at which i watched more than just one or two movies - was in melbourne in 2003.

we went all kiasu and got the 10 movie mini pass. 10 movies in about two weeks. nevermind that a movie cost me the equivalent of RM 22 each.

but because my then movie partner was french and trying to learn english, he flat out refused to watch any french movies. he also refused to watch a movie with a giant bunny rabbit in it, and thus i missed out on donnie darko, and have been regretting it ever since.

to this day i still don’t know why we didn’t just watch at least a couple of the movies on our own.

so now, i watch whatever movie i damn well please.

which was why i made reservations for the science of sleep at 9.45 pm on friday night, and la vie en rose at 12.00pm and priceless at 3.30pm the next day. 3 french movies in less than 24 hours.

and ended up watching with my colleague who just so happened to say over lunch that she really wanted to watch the gael garcia bernal movie. not entirely sure i appreciated the flash of his naked butt and err, dangly bits, but the movie was lovely. quirky, and nice. i now want my own forest in a boat, and cellophane water too. and gael garcia bernal as a neighbour, of course. fully clothed, thanks.

we also thoroughly enjoyed the harrowing and engaging movie on edith piaf (as played by lili from the taxi films) as well as the delightfully delightful priceless. it's always wonderful to see - in the course of one movie - how the characters go through a veritable grinder and your perception of them end up being completely different from when they started.

a quick stint at the massage chairs at osim in between the two movies (you need this after a 2.5 hour french movie i tell you) with mcd chocolate sundae for lunch, and we were all set.

also went shopping and got me pretty blue clogs, and a top which, in certain light, is reminiscent of a 17th century working girl outfit. the word 'wench' comes to mind. i love it.

one of the better ways to spend a saturday.

: )