Big chair, big eyes

Chubby cheeks...

My niece two years ago at age of 2++. She just woke up and was feeling fuzzy. Looks like raggedy Ann. It's been a while since I visited them up north. Time to make time.

Uhm... did I do that...?

Alright folks, have a sweet weekend. I know I will. I'll be at Mike's wedding, yes, the one with the box.

07.07.07 is such a nice date, a Saturday no less. It's surprising people can still get venues for their wedding receptions. Oh, let's not mention 08.08.08 next year! Try book your venue then, If you have, do make sure you are ready for it, i.e. hopelessly attached and ridiculously in love.

Get hitched quick! You only have till 12.12.12

Oh, wouldn't it be cool to have-and-hold the one come 11.11.11

I think

This happened a long time ago.

Mike: What are you doing?

Me: I’m thinking

Mike: That’s my line!

Me: What do you mean it’s your line?

Mike: I'm always the one who says ‘I’m thinking. Besides, you're just sitting there, staring blank, doing nothing.

Me: That’s what I do when I think.

Mike: No.

Me: Whatever.

This never happened but I’m making it my line, just in case Mike does it again.

Mike: What are you doing?

Me: See that box?

Mike: Yeah.

Me: See where I am, outside?

Mike: Yeah

Me: I’m thinking!


(I just hope there's a box lying around.)

Just you wait

After meeting several clients at Asian Supply Base in Labuan on Thursday morning, I rushed to the airport to catch my 1210 flight to Miri.

I had bought FlyAsianXpress (aka FAX) ticket since it was the only direct flight from Labuan to Miri. Malaysia Airlines do fly to Miri but there will be a transit in Kota Kinabalu, usually a four hour wait. I am not that patient, especially considering there is an alternative, even if it means my flight risk being delayed. You see, Fax is under AirAsia, notoriously known for their ‘now everyone is late’ reputation.
I thought I was a few minutes late for check in when I read a note at the check in counter saying the flight is delayed for one hour; a minor relief since I didn’t have to rush like mad anymore. I studied the departure schedule to double check.



One hour had passed, it was 1.10pm, and there was still no sign of the plane, let alone arrival announcement. As if cued, the ground staff came to the departure counter pushing a trolley.
The chime rang and her announcement went “Dear passengers of flight D7 2243 to Miri, the flight has been delayed due to a technical problem in Miri. As of now, the estimated time of arrival is still not known. We apologize for any inconvenience caused. Meanwhile, we invite you to the counter to receive your snack attack. Thank you.” As we collected our snack boxes, our cell phone numbers were recorded.






And so we waited.
Two aircrafts came and gone but our departure was still unknown

At 3pm I overheard a person at the other bench answering his phone. “Yes…. Yes…. Okay… So this six thirty, is it confirmed?... Ok then. Bye.”

“Huh, must be the call update. Ahh…So that’s what the phone number was all about. So they can face passengers individually instead of risking life and limbs with the whole mob” I thought.

15 minutes later the expected call came. I was not going to let go that easily.

“Hello, Mr. Agustus. This is Natasha from Fly Asian Express. I’m calling to inform you that your flight will be expected to depart at six thirty” she informed.

“Is that six thirty tomorrow morning or six thirty this evening?” I asked.

“Six thirty this evening sir.”

“Did they tell you what was wrong with the plane? What kind of technical problem are they fixing in Miri?” I asked.

“No sir, they only told us they have technical problem in Miri. And the flight is expected to arrive in Labuan by six pm. You can check back in around five thirty”

“Six thirty. That’s three hours from now. That’s a very long time to wait” I hinted desparation.

“Yes sir”

“Then I will have to wait. Thank you.” I ended the call.

So I grabbed my luggage and took a walk around the airport. Not that there is much to see but like the rest of the ‘waiters’, I needed some fresh air and bigger space than the departure lounge.

Around five pm, another announcement regarding my flight was aired. We were invited to collect our meal from the airline counter. It was the colonel himself.

Unpaid advertisement
Hey kids, wanna get free KFC? Buy AirAsia or FAX ticket and hope they screw you enough. You may have your fingers crossed but it will be licked.

So Misteragus, how does it feel being screwed by FAX? Why, IT’S FINGER LICKING GOOD!

By six, I paused typing this post and headed to the departure lounge. Metal detector and X-ray scan only; no one was feeling frisky. We waited patiently.

Six thirty in the evening, no sign of the aircraft. Not a gust of wind, not a hum of sound, not a freakin FAX. It was going to be another long wait. Some ‘waiters’ have inside information that the latest departure time will probably be nine thirty. People started talking. Some went down to the check in counter to get clarification. The ground staff should consider themselves lucky. People know they have done their best to cope with the situation, and there is really nothing they can do except keep pushing for current updates and get a firm result to report to the waiting customers.

Tired of just watching from the lounge, I went down to join the crowd.

A lot were exchanged. The ground staff kept repeating their incomplete and uncertain reports, like a broken record of a horrible song they go. The aircraft under repair remains just that. Another aircraft from Kota Kinabalu had to be deployed to the rescue. But not before picking up passengers from Miri bound for Labuan; our stranded counterpart. The first group of waiters of the day. We were all part of and an ugly chain of events. And the evening flight scheduled at 8.30pm, the one using the same ill fated aircraft was simply cancelled. Passengers had the option to fill in the remaining seats in the replacement. First come first served of course. Otherwise, a reschedule or a refund is in order. Some of the morning passengers opted for a refund, only to find out that their money will only be returned after 30 days. Now that’s classy. Must I tell you they were fuming mad?

I hung around the check in counter for quite some time, watching people scanning their luggage and proceeding to the check in counter only to be told their flight was cancelled.

Facing the entrance, I saw two familiar faces pushing a trolley each. They were the ground support staff.

Well, well, well, look what the wind rolled in; more dead chicken, to appease the frustrated gods. Could we take another chicky meal?

As I was typing this, it was already 9.20pm. The ground staff were getting nervous. Another promise undelivered, it would seem.

“But wait! I hear a buzz. Zee plane! Zee Plane!” I got mildly excited.

The chime rang and she went “Announcing the arrival of Malaysia Airlines flight from Kuala Lumpur.”

Ah, false alarm. Not the FAX we were waiting for.

Soon came another announcement “Passengers for Malaysia Airlines flight MH2624 to Kota Kinabalu, please proceed to the departure hall, thank you”

“This is not going to end so soon is it…” I thought.

At 9.40pm, there was another hum. The chime rang yet again and she announced “Announcing the arrival of Fly Asian Express from Kota Kinabalu”

And,
“Passengers for Fly Asian Express flight D7 2243 are invited to the departure lounge for immediate departure”

And I started singing Daughtry’s ‘I’m going home’. I feel like an American Idol ready to be faxed home.
At 9.45pm we were ushered out of the terminal building into the waiting aircraft.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. On behalf of Fly Asian Express, I would like to apologize for the very, very, verrry long delay. Your high patience means a lot to us... blah blah...."

The apologies were again repeated by the flight attendant.

Upon landing, the flight attendant went "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment we have been waiting for. We have landed at Miri Airport. ...blah.blah..."

After this delay of epic proportion, you can only ask, could they screw even deeper?

Just you wait.

Misteragus

“Mr Agus, why are you so quiet?” asked a university intern as she parked in front of my cubicle.

“I guess I have nothing to say” I told her.

She’s now in her three weeks of her three months internship and gradually bonding with the rest of the crew at work. The fact that she’s attached to the second company (billboard advertising) owned by Boss gave us nothing much to exchange, apart from setting up her laptop’s networking and computer system optimization.

“But it makes you invisible…” she added.

That quickly pulled a smile on my face and I replied “That’s good. Really good!”

“That’s not good. You’re invisible. It’s like you’re not here.” She begged to differ.

“Oh it’s good” I assured her. And she went on to chat with the receptionist.

.
.
.
Well how about that! Now there’s one person who’s not afraid to ask, and she’s only been here three weeks! Very thoughtful indeed.

As usual, I didn’t give it a rest. I continued to ponder the reason that justifies my silent behavior.

The office is a place where work dominates the conversation. When work scopes don’t collide, silence is golden. When my time is not occupied with work, the internet satisfies me with good education; whatever I need to learn, it’s bound to be there. From curing a lethally infected PC to the best nasi lemak recipe, everything is there if you know how and where to look. If I have loads of spare time, I blog.

Sometimes you’ll see me walk around the office rearranging stuff, improvising the way things work; be it the jammed toilet door, the cluttered store in the pantry or the choked toner vessel in the copy machine. When that doesn’t work, I’ll snake out to the nearest mall, mostly having lunch with a friend or two.

Unlike friends, workmates and their life stories are a daily encounter. All I need to do is ask, and if I don’t, it means I’m not interested. But if you really want to share, by all means, start the discussion thread. You’ll be surprised with what I have to share about the things I deem worthwhile. And it’s quite different when we have functions out of the office.

Yes, we do have our own in-house chatterboxes. Make that the one-and-only chatterbox. Throw anything at him and he will chat you silly. Have a napkin ready for your melted earwax. Even when you start to hint boredom and time out, he would go on and on, until you finally walk away. It’s a good thing he’s not always in the office. Working for sales in billboard advertising warrants him to go places and meet people. Come to think of it, he is in the right business. But don’t get me wrong, he does deliver.

And deliver I do as well. The only difference is I often do it quietly. It’s really not too much if I claim to be the unseen force quietly making things happen in the background, things that are expected of me. But that doesn’t make me a lonesome cowboy either. I fiercely believe in teamwork.

Seriously, nothing pisses people off like a huge empty can tumbling down fleets of bare concrete stairs. It’s noisy and achieves absolutely nothing, well, except for destructive relocation.

“So Mr. Agus, what do you do during weekends?” she continued asking, obviously trying to start a conversation, from one cubicle away no less.

“Oh, not much. If no one calls me to hang out and I’ve not planned anything with friends, I’ll be at home watching Astro”

“What channel? Vaan?” she chuckled.

Huh? What was that about? She’s Indian; was that meant to be a joke? Society and television taught me that racist jokes are only acceptable internally, or when it is told by a person of the race in reference, i.e. only blacks can tell black jokes. Or maybe I misunderstood.

I played it safe and said “Nah, now I fancy channel 78, Discovery Real Time. Loads of stuff about cars”

After a long pause and clicks on her pc, she was at it again.

“Guess what Mr. Agus. I saw your picture from our accounts exec’s wedding pictures.”

“Yeah, that was two years ago I think.”

“You look so cute, with that chubby face. You look so different now” she remarked.

“What do you mean cute? Chubby is not cute on me.”

“It is. You look so cute and chubby. Why so different now?” she asked.

“I lost a lot of weight, that’s why”

“But why?” she just had to ask.

“Because I thought I needed to” I said and she dropped it. We continued whatever we were doing till lunch. I seriously wanted to point her to my earlier blog entry, my detailed weight loss adventure but that would bring her here. Not that this entry trashes her up or anything. It’s just not the time yet, or ever. And I don’t think she blogs, yet.

This little piggy...

“It’s hard to keep a pig pink in the cage”

That's the quote from a friend when I told him about a certain friend who still manages to arrange rendezvous with the ladies despite being heavily guarded by his fiancé.

It’s hardly self explanatory.

“How does that phrase relate? Why pink? And where did you get that?” I demanded.

“I don’t know. Somebody told me that proverb. Evidently, it has something to do with the pig’s health and appearance being restricted to a confined space” he explained.

The pig in cage relates to the person in chains. It describes his mental state and fidelity under tight scrutiny.

Let’s see, a pig caged, in a barn or a sty without proper cleaning will live in its own filth, i.e. piss and shit. In time, the typical pink skin will stain and its mental and physical health becomes questionable. (I wonder if a pig really cares.)

Maybe that’s where the expression ‘in the pink of health’ originated from.

Relatively, a man heavily guarded and monitored by his significant other could turn rebellious; in search for fresh air and personal space. How can anyone expect him to stay clean and faithful?

But do picture this; if a pig is let loose it will run happily in the fields, make new friends and soak in the mud. And then there's sun tan. How then will it ever stay pink?



Which reminds me, I gotta catch Wild Hogs soon.

It's you

This morning I had a curious dream. Just before I woke up a little late for work, I was at the church entrance in Miri, calling a friend to drive me back to my house to get my wedding suit. Yeah, I was getting married!

Several minutes passed and Terrence arrived. Soon we were at my house in Miri. I rushed to grab all the wedding accessories prepared earlier and to my horror, I left my jacket in KL!

“Can I just wear my business attire without the jacket?” I asked someone over the phone.

“No. You have to be in a suit!” came the reply.

“Oh crap. What am I gonna do! It’s already 11.30 and I gotta be there at noon!” I said as I flipped through my dad’s jacket collection.

“But these are too big, and old school! Oh, what if I wear a traditional Bidayuh vest. But who has one? I only know someone who has an Iban vest. It’s not the same!...Arghh! Dad’ friends maybe, but it’s too late to ask around!” I thought.

A pair of Bidayuh newlyweds, in traditional bidayuh suits.

A pair of Iban newlyweds, in traditional Iban suits.


“Can we postpone the wedding?” I asked my best man.

“Nope. The guests are already there. It’ll be a disaster if we do”, said the best man, whoever he was.

“It already is!” I exclaimed in despair and woke up.

“What the hell was that all about? Me getting married? I’m not even engaged.” I thought.

I crawled out of bed and made a bee line to the shower, puzzled but unconcerned.

In the car the radio DJ kept telling listeners that it is Friday the 13th and how some people have that taboo belief rigged deep in them. The DJs gave examples of every known places where the number 13 is never used; in buildings, airport terminal gates and the aircraft seat number, to name a few. Over the years and many bizarre experiences people become attached to it.

Yeah, more like it got attached to them. They never relate to me, these bad luck numbers.

At work, Michael buzzed me on Yahoo messenger. He told me he’s getting married and I’m invited as a VVIP friend. We go a long way back.

Mike: I want to invite you to my wedding

Agus: Whoa!

Mike: What’s with the whoa?

Agus: You wanna know something bizarre?

Mike: What?

Agus: Oh, the ‘whoa’ was for someone getting married. The bizarre part is just this morning I dreamt that I was late for my own wedding and I have no suit.

Mike: That’s a weird but really funny dream.

Agus: I sort of seen this coming. Only now I know it’s you.

Just older

Thanks for the birthday wishes guys. Bloggers, Friendsters, mailers, texters, 'in-person'ers, you're all precious!

Contrary to popular belief, there was nothing spectacularly worrisome about turning 30 for me. All the birthday greetings drifted in like whiffs of great coffee and settled like a premium cheese cake; heart warming and satisfying.

A week past 30 now, I feel exactly like I did a month ago. Haha, I can almost hear some snigger ‘wait till you hit 40’. Oh it's forty now? Whatever. My point is, people cope with aging differently and at different stages. There is no point arguing about that.

I can’t deny having questions about getting to the big 'three oh' myself. Curious actually. What’s the big fuss?

A few minutes on the internet gave the picture of a person’s “achievements” at thirty;the things to be expected and the next course of action. I know, a little too late to go through the list. “You should’ve done that five years ago” I hear you say. Oh well, I love my time and I take mine sweet. Sail on, steer on.

Anyway, that got me going “yeah, been there”, “done that” and “eh?!”. There were also many “hmm, now that’s new…”, “ah, let’s try that…” and “nah, not for me”.

~Long story cut short here~

“Welcome to the club” they said as we chinked our glasses and played Blackjack that night.

Being the birthday boy, I got wasted *mandatory* and ended up in the passenger seat as my friend drove my car back, on a really early Tuesday morning! I felt horrible about that, and the only lame excuse I can think of was 'it's my birthday, look at me go...'
Sorry Sam, I messed up.

But hey, that’s another story.

~Long story cut short here~again

As brief as it was, turning 30 was definitely an education, the reason for the fuss in the first place.

Looking at the list of suggested achievements, I chose the ones best suited for my path. This I will continue doing because the list will always add on; so it’s never too late. Plus there’s no pressure that way. And it’s no fun having limited purposes in life.

Voila! I’m thirty. Bring it!

Heroes

Heroes Episode 8 on Star World last night was mind blowing and revealing. But the character that caught my attention was Ted, the radioactive man. Actually, I was gripped since last week when Star World showed preview clips of this week’s show. It wasn’t so much of his ability but the thing he did in the interrogation room.

He boiled a glass of water with his bare hands; sort of like a dream I had and posted in X-Dream, October 20th, 2006.

And I quote; “…The conversation was strangely about heating a glass of water with bare hands. The demonstration was done by the wiser elder. Both his palms were holding the side of the glass and I could see the water starting to bubble. Vapors were appearing and finally the water boiled. I was so impressed that I took the glass and tried my hands at it. I clasped the now warm glass tightly. Nothing happened at first. I began to intensify my concentration and regulate my breathing. I remember someone said that breathing helps in meditation.

Or was it child labor?

Anyway, I soon saw small bubbles appear but the action was disrupted by my breathing cycles. The water seemed to be heating and bubbling when I inhaled deeply and stopped when I exhale. But I was pretty ecstatic with the result. I could actually heat water with my bare hands!”

Well, not exactly similar but close. And the interrogation room looked like the class I attended for the workshop.

When I saw clips of the scene last week, I thought "Hey, that looks really familiar. Wow! I sort'a dreamt that scene some time ago. Haha..." And that got me excited the whole week. After watching the show, I still am.

I'm easily amused like that. Plus it's a damn cool show!

Maybe it's time I pay a visit to the pirates, get the whole season pack of DVD. Or look for friends who's done it already.

'Save the cheerleader, save the world'

Egg'cellent

Okay, so you’ve got tons of cool wishes for the Lunar New Year. I got three! Yay!

My maternal grandfather is Chinese and that’s about all the oriental heritage that runs in my family. During the Japanese occupation, his family was forced to integrate into the Bidayuh community and embrace the tribal way of life deep in the rural villages. Being one with the tribe, his family and many others escaped bleak future, torture and even death by the Japanese. Inevitably, their cultural heritage dissolved into a thin layer of memory which occasionally makes its way through the generations during small talks and as a pick up line at the bar, or as a sideline issue in a blog entry such as this.

It does make an interesting article, that is, once I gather all the data from the man himself and his children; my uncles and aunts. Yup, another item to add to my to-do-list-soon, real soon. For now though, like I said, the only connection I have with this culture is a hint (a quarter to be exact) of Chinese facial features and a handful of good friends.

Friends I’m proud to have. Friends who wishes me a prosperous Chinese New Year when they know I won’t be tossing any shreds of fish and vegetables to welcome the auspicious year. Oh but the fire boar is always good to greet. Good to eat. Pit roasted and all.

All kinds of wishes came my way too, including this one;

“My wish for you is to be continuously reincarnated as an egg. This way, you’ll get laid every morning, get sucked every day and get hard in 3 minutes. Happy Chinese New Year!”

Okay, I get most of it, the meaning, except for the second reason that sucked. Hey, don’t ask me. I haven’t a clue. Besides, it’s just for fun. Something to crack you up on New Year’s Eve, or during breakfast in bed, or whatever. Spouse’ presence highly recommended.

And by the way, it kinda’ gives you the assurance to that age old question of which came first. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I believe the egg always comes first.

I might be totally wrong. After all, I’m just an egg.

Happy New Year everyone!

Yellow

I woke up on Wednesday morning with a few groans, some huffs and several sighs.

“Huh… what were those about?” I asked myself.

My body felt unusually warm.

My limbs were not their usual steady selves in the shower and there were traces of aches in my muscles and joints. Driving to work required more focus and effort than usual.

I started to feel very cold in the office. My body temperature felt otherwise; especially my head.

That was it. I knew I was down with high fever. And the thought that I might get another dose of yellow fever sent chills down my spine, in every sense of the word.

I immediately started the remedial procedure. Based on my previous yellow fever experience two years ago (or denggi as we fondly call it in this part of the world), the only known remedy is to keep yourself sufficiently hydrated. Drink like there’s no tomorrow. For there will be none if you fail.

I quickly looked up facts about yellow fever from multiple web sites to get confirmation - The signs, diagnosis, remedies and also prevention (yeah, a little late for that) made my fever stink very much like denggi. A bloody denggi deja vous!

My productivity declined as anxiety attacked but I decided to stay a while for some pressing matters. I drank gallons of water and convinced myself the cool office temperature would help keep mine down, thus avoiding any possible brain cell damage, despite instant chills and shiver every few minutes. Needless to say I went to the rest room to pee every 20 minutes or so.

I left work at half past five and continued drinking (good ol’ plain water this time) and resting through the night. I struggled to finish my dinner which fortunately didn’t taste like bitter medicine. Then I drank some more.

Laying my head on the pillow (with a wet towel) didn’t help with the high cranial temperature. In fact, it worked like a heat insulator for my head. Horror! So I slept in a reading-in-bed position, with the fan blowing in my face, my head leaning against the wooden headrest.

The night went by ever so slowly, as I drank every last drop of water I can possibly swallow. Peeing several times in an hour caused a slight burning sensation, a piercing feeling.

My effort may have all gone down the toilet but it was never flushed in vain.

“I better be well when I go for a check up tomorrow. This rear-right-side headache is bugging me like a cancer! And I’ll be damned if it’s denggi again.”

The next morning, feeling considerably better, no more body aching, except for a ‘lumpy’ residual headache at the back of my head, I went to University Malaya Medical Center as planned. I reached the reception counter at 8.30am, took a number and waited as told.

And boy did I wait...

After three hours I finally saw the doctor.

“How long since you had this fever?” she asked.

“Yesterday afternoon” I said, half hoping that her next question would be 'and how long did you have to wait outside?'

Tough luck.

“Any coughs?”, “Body aches”, “Vomitting?”

My response were all “No”

“Any denggi cases in the area you’re staying? This could be denggi.”

“Oh my place is denggi prone. I’m concerned this might be denggi as well. I was hospitalized here two years ago because of denggi. I spent three nights at the denggi ward upstairs.” I explained.

“Ok. Your blood pressure is quite good. Let’s test your total blood count. Once the nurse has taken your blood sample, get it to the lab and as soon as the result is displayed online, we’ll call you in. Hang around nearby.”

I was expecting a kind of enthusiasm from her considering this is my second time here for a somewhat similar reason, although it wasn't her the first time I came. But she was indifferent about it. No extra notes for repeat patients either.

On second thought, maybe there was nothing good to say.
Definitely not 'Oh is that right? Wellcome back then. It's a pleasure to have you here. Although I'd prefer not seeing you here, being sick and all. I'm not saying I don't want to see you but... well, you know what I mean'

25 minutes later,

“Your blood test came out negative for denggi. It's not denggi. Just regular high fever” said the doctor.

“Oh that’s good news” I said.

“I’ll just give you panadol ya. Drink a lot of water and get some rest.” She concluded.

That’s exactly what I did, my good doctor. I couldn’t agree more. Thank you very much.

After wating for a good 20 minutes for the common aspirin at the perscription counter, I took the rest of the Thursday off and recovered just in time for a good night’s sleep.

Today I’m as good as new.

Random Sunday

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Outside St. John’s Cathedral Bukit Nanas were droves of people catching up after the first early morning mass, mostly Pilipino, some African and the rest Malaysian. The church bells rang for the next service session, and I looked at my watch, 10.30am. “That’s my cue” I thought, rushing through the crowd as I try to locate my friend, Diego, waiting for me at the entrance.

“Right on time” he said, and we walked into the church with many others. We made our way to one of the pews at the balcony upstairs.

“It’s good to have a friend at church. It feels a bit weird sitting through the Sunday service alone” he said.

“Uhuh” I agreed.

“At least there’s someone to talk to, exchange notes and stuff. Usually, when I’m alone at church and the pastor slips in funny remarks during his sermon, I just keep it all in while everybody savors it with their friends and families; quite frustrating you know” he explained.

“Well, when you’re alone, you talk to God. That is what you do when you go to church”. I said, flashing a cynical smile.

Blimey! If we were anywhere else, we’d burst into a hysterical laughter.

Fortunately, both of us realized that we were in the house of God and kept it all in. There was plenty of time to laugh our heads off (which we did) after church; no heresy intended.

After church, on our way for lunch we chatted, updating each other on the latest happenings, about life, friends and families.

“You know, James’ been going to church every week with his new girlfriend” said Diego.

“Yeah? Haha, very much unlike the two of us” I added.

“He’s becoming more warak (Malay word for pious) it seems” Diego noted.

“If he’s warak, we must be rawak (Malay word for random)” I concluded.
And we were in stitches again.

Touched

I’ve got mails.

All 65 of them were manually deleted. They’re junk. All the anti spam wares, rules and alerts settings in the world couldn’t possibly keep them out. Not that they ruin my morning or anything. In fact, my morning routine is to manually delete every spam that manages to creep into my inbox, and I’m sure many do the same.

Once in a while however a certain subject caption screams for attention. Like so,



At a glance I would just happily press the delete button and get on with life. I would then go to the deleted item folder to scan for accidentally deleted genuine mails before they’re gone permanently. Most of the times I do it just to amuse myself, why waste eh? Seriously, check out the tagline.

How the hell do you know it’s so small, my dear Britten? Am I supposed to be moved by your query?

Pas de touché.

On second thought, maybe just a little bit, for amusement purposes of course.

Go ahead. Read the content.

Well, you don’t say…

Only 85 percent? Ladies, surely more of you care. What’s wrong with 100 percent?

Oh, yea, I forgot, it’s just junk.

Hanky tanky

About a week ago I went to a petrol station to fill my car’s empty fuel tank. I filled it to the brim. I reset the meter to zero like I usually do but the fuel gauge pointed to half.

“Heh, it must need a few moments while the engine runs to fully erect” I thought.

Several kilometers went by but the gauge was still halfway. So I went at variable speeds, did a few sudden brakes, jerked my ride and drove uphill and down. Nothing happened.

“Damn! It’s stuck!” and I even tried knocking on it.

“Damn! It’s still stuck!”

It stayed that way for days and days. “Oh geez! Just what I need! My car’s first faulty instrument. Should I be expecting this? It’s not even three years old yet. I wonder how much it would cost to get fixed, or worse, replaced! Looks like I have to rely on the meter to estimate how much fuel I have left, for now.”

For diagnostic reasons, I planned to let the fuel run low, very low. Maybe, just maybe, thirst would bring it back to its senses.

Then yesterday morning as I was halfway to work, I glanced at the meter which indicated that I have about 50 kilometers to go before my next pit stop.

“How I wish the fuel gauge’s working” I sighed and checked the fuel level. I took another good look because the needle seemed to be pointing to ‘E’! Good Lord! I have never been so glad to see my fuel indicator show empty before.

“Hey! You’re back!” I exclaimed in joy and smiled all the way to work.

On my way home that evening I refueled my tank to one third and the gauge responded nicely. Maybe it choked when I last refueled; maybe it’s just playing with me.

Damp no more

Is it raining outside? Do you sometimes end up with damp and smelly clothes from the indoor air dryer? Do you wish you have a cheaper way to get fresh and dry clothes without spending a fortune on a dryer or paying for the electricity cost of running one everyday?

Guys (and handy girls), here’s one rainy day project that’s perfect for, well, rainy days!

I just made one last week since my apartment’s drying section never gets any sunlight and it used to take days to dry my clothes during this rainy season. I've been wanting to make one for a while. I call it my 'active clothes aerator'.

The frame is best made of wood. It can be used wood lying around the house or a premium item from your favorite hardware store or wood mall. If you have welding tools and a metal fetish, by all means, erect a metal frame. It pays to build a sturdy frame, including braces if necessary. Wouldn’t want your clothes to tumble dry-NOT.

It would be wise to first buy a ventilation/exhaust fan from your favorite store or have the measurement ready before you build the frame. It’s nice to have it sit nicely on top so that replacement or an upgrade will be a breeze. The cheapest go for less than RM60. But size does matter; it has to suck (air) real good. If your clothes could talk, they’d say ‘suck me dry baby’.

Sorry, I’ve slipped off course again.

Anyway, don’t forget to fit the hanger rail and castors for portability. Your neighbor might want to borrow your portable dryer. Of course it doesn’t hurt to charge rental. And you don’t want to operate it in your room while you’re sleeping, unless pneumonia is okay by you.

Finally, cover every sides of the frame with plastic, leaving the bottom open for air intake. This includes the top section, where it’s not covered by the exhaust fan. Choose either transparent, print decorated or solid colored plastic for plain or artsy finish. I use a transparent plastic shower curtain. This way, I could see my clothes dance themselves dry. It’s entertaining but don’t throw away your TV or fish tank. They are there for a reason- to keep you sane.

That’s it!

Say what? Step by step guide? Measurements?

Well, you’ll just have to figure it out yourself. This is not a sponsored site. Plus I hate to insult your intelligence and creativity.

If you find the concept a tad difficult to follow, just picture the much adored Marylyn Monroe. That'll help your creativity juice flow, and may your clothes get the much needed blow.

Ooooozaah.....

Hello...

I received a text from Francis while going about my routine at work.

I was just about to make a business call then. Upon reading the message, I put down the office phone and started to digest the intention and draft a response

It read (and I hope you don’t mind me disclosing) “You must be having a LIFE as you hardly blog these days! Cheers.”

How delightful! I wrote back “Hello! Great to hear from you. Yeah, I sort of forgot about blogging. Not so much of a happening life, just relatively occupied and not much to blog about. But I’ll post one later today, attributed to your greeting. Cheers!”

It has been a long while since anyone seen an update here. Things keep on happening everyday but none found its way into this sphere. Maybe I’m just lazy. Or maybe they’re not profound enough. Blogging about life was fun and interesting and all but over the months (and years) they start to build a monotonous structure and the big picture that one gets is the routine I go through, no mater how interesting it got started.

After a while you start to think ‘Hey, didn’t the same thing happen last month? Only different time and place?’

Let’s talk about life. Wouldn’t this space be filled with days and days of activities. Stories that tell people the things I do, the places I go to and the people I meet? Yeah, I do stuff, go places and meet loads of wonderful people. I wonder if telling would classify me as a show off…

How would it feel like for someone to read all the nice things another goes through when he or she is not getting any? Boy, that would be depressing indeed.

And what about stories of dissatisfaction and complaints? All the bad luck one gets make it seem like the world hates the blogger. Did I hear someone yell ‘oh stop whining!’ ? True, everyone has problems.

And then there’s self censorship. With all the things happening today, it’s hard to ignore and not speak up - sensitive issues blazing the front pages of local and international media. Two words, ‘Bloggers Beware’. And let’s not even start about self preservation; the need to refrain from overexposure.

Finally, there’s the stale factor. Like I said, many things happened; the good, the bad and the f’ugly. They stirred like el-nino while they lasted but by the time you start typing, everything fizzes down. Nothing beats reporting ‘Live’, but it’s not practical unless you’re paid to do so.

Where is this rant going? Well, I guess it just serves to remind myself that what ever I put down here boils down to responsible behavior. That it’s totally my choice and everything comes with consequences. Always be prepared.

And one more thing, the blogosphere might be virtual but the community is real. Bloggers care when neighbors go missing. I got texts messages, instant messages and e-mail just to say “Hi, how you doin’? ”.

Ain’t life sweet…

X-Dream

Last night gave me the weirdest but most delightful dream ever. Somehow I was sitting in a common area with two elders, it was approaching dusk. We were each sitting on an armchair, a round coffee table in the middle. The conversation was strangely about heating a glass of water with bare hands. The demonstration was done by the wiser elder. Both his palms were holding the side of the glass and I could see the water starting to bubble. Vapors were appearing and finally the water boiled. I was so impressed that I took the glass and tried my hands at it. I clasped the now warm glass tightly. Nothing happened at first. I began to intensify my concentration and regulate my breathing. I remember someone said that breathing helps in meditation.

Or was it child labor?

Anyway, I soon saw small bubbles appear but the action was disrupted by my breathing cycles. The water seemed to be heating and bubbling when I inhaled deeply and stopped when I exhale. But I was pretty ecstatic with the result. I could actually heat water with my bare hands!

Not long after that I found myself in a special talent workshop. More like special powers workshop. (You know how dreams are, we get removed seamlessly from one place to another with no apparent reason) There were many other teenagers, (yeah, it didn’t feel awkward, I felt like one of them) all excited to start the session. The group was divided into two.

My group was taught to turn on light bulbs with just a touch. After most of us managed to do that, we were taught to control metals. By just pointing toward the metal object, the instructor orchestrated the movements of the white square metal plates forming the ceiling and the walls of the room; they seemed to twist, turn and wriggle. I don’t know how we managed to do it but one by one, each of us successfully attained the skill. One kid even rearranged the ceiling, opening it up before replacing it with fancy decorations.

“Hey, this is almost like having Magneto’s powers” I exclaimed in delight as my left index finger did its magic.

The two groups were then combined and I heard the other instructor said “Ok guys, show them what you’ve learned”

To our amazement, one kid started to float after another. They performed the skills that we were taught. Light up bulbs and bend metals, all this while floating.
“Ah, these could be the advanced kids” I assumed, all green with envy.

Everything seemed real and possible, it didn't occur to me that this might be a dream.

The workshop session ended and we mingled. Not long after that, we were dismissed and I found myself in a small group walking in the fields. Some of us were floating delightfully, happy with what they have learned.

Suddenly I heard someone yelled “Duck! Quick, into the bush!”

We scrambled toward a thick bush of high grass and thick vines. I looked up and saw a green dinosaur. It looked like T-Rex but uglier, and scarier. We were pissing terrified and the inconsistent bush didn’t help. Some of us were occasionally exposed as we cautiously maneuvered our way through.

“Geez, I hope it doesn’t see us before we get to safety” I thought as I rustled my way through the thick grass and choking vines.

And then I woke up.

How come so weird?

It could be the “Goblet of Fire” DVD rerun session last week. The floating and light bulb touches could be the effect of watching Justin Timberlake's 'Rock Your Body' during my daliy dose of MTV before bed. Add to that the holiday season just around the corner and life feels like a summer blockbuster.

Happy Deepavali to Hindu friends.
Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri to Muslim friends.
And to everyone, Happy Holidays.
Let's all be safe.

Don't be heisty

Sunday 12.30 pm. I was getting ready to fetch my sister in law at the airport when the phone rings.

Lady: Hello, is this Mr. Agustus?
Agus: Speaking.
Lady: Uh, this is your office neighbor, our office is below yours. You’re a staff of *edited* right?
Agus: Yes, that’s right.
Lady: Yeah, there’s been a break in at our block. All three levels were burglarized. The police are here investigating. You should call a representative to handle the situation at your place.
Agus: Oh, ok.

I hung up. My heart plunged in disbelief. I wished it was just a dream. The conversation sounded faint. It was a good minute before I called my boss and relayed the bad news. He lives nearby and was the most logical person to be expected at the scene. Imagine that… I told my boss to get his ass to the office asap!

He called back asking “Agus, where are you now?”

“I’m going to the airport to fetch my sister in law. I plan to get there after that, in three hours time” I told him.

“Oh, ok then. I guess I’ll get there now.” Said the boss.

My thoughts were focused on the incident throughout the journey. My mind was multi tasking while driving and having a conversation with my sister in law. She must be exhausted from the flight and she must have loads to say so I kept the bad news to myself.

When we got to the Swiss Inn at Petaling Street, I told her that we would be going to the mall for some weekend shopping, if she wasn’t so tired that is.

“The mall is near my office. I’m gonna have to drop by the office for a while to check on stuff. There was a break in last night and I need to know what’s missing. After that we go to One Utama Shopping Mall.” I told her.

Here’s the good news. I’m so glad I bring my lap top home everyday. Some asked me why I need to carry the laptop around when I meet them after work. And why I must bring it back home everyday. I don’t really do my work at home. I just have personal stuff in my laptop and it’s sort of an extension of my brain. Plus there’s a huge entertainment value in there that I must have access to all the time.

“Do you have to watch it everyday?” Bert once asked me.
“Not really, but yeah.” I replied.

And now I have another solid reason. This laptop is my own and there’s nothing I can do about it if it gets stolen at the workplace.

Two CPUs were also taken, one each from accounts and marketing department. Some 500 bucks were taken from the petty cash box. And worst of all, my boss’s new Dell Laptop. Yikes! That’d make any man cry.

The rest of the CPUs were already disconnected and ready to go. It seemed to be a grand heist kind of plan. In the end however, they were left hanging. The burglars were interrupted somehow. They left in a hurry but not without making a mess. Drawers, cabinets, boxes and briefcases were ransacked. They must be searching for small valuables and stacks of cash.

Oh well, at least I still have my lap top. Oh, and I’m so glad I didn’t forget my digital camera in the drawers.

“What else is valuable on my table.
Oh sheet! My coffee grinder. My hand cranked grinder was on the table!
And sheet! My DeLonghi electric burr grinder was in the pantry!
Arghhhh! I sure hope they missed those…
Now I really need to get there. Otherwise I won’t be sleeping tonight. Sure they’re not that expensive. But they’re not cheap either!”

When I got there a few hours later, boy was I glad to see my coffee grinder still on my desk. And its electric cousin was still in the pantry. *Joy* The damage is minimal to me.

This morning I was rushed to set up two spare CPU for my colleagues and one old laptop for my boss. Now that everything is in order, I blog.

Mars spectacular hoax

Much have been said and circulated around the internet about mars travelling so close to earth it will look like we have two moons on August 27, 2006. I Googled about and learned that it is actually a hoax (I'm so stuck in Yesterday) Or is it? Check out these links, links and links. Well, you'll get the picture.

I mean, the interest and anticipation of this so called factual event happening makes some people unsure what to believe anymore. Could the multiple debunking of this spectacular event in the internet be a hoax as well? An elaborate one I might add.

On second thought, I'll just keep the reminder of the event at the little corner of my thoughts, in my 'just curious' basket. Meanwhile, I'll just go about my original plans, having fun over the weekend, occassionally watching the night sky, just in case I see two moons. I'll be outdoors barbequeing anyway. But it will be an absolut sober event, which means I'll just see one good old moon and some bright stars. Wheee

Meanwhile, here's a picture of mars from one of the links above, the Hoax Slayer, just so you won't end up with a stiff neck come Monday.

They say men are from Mars.

Hut

While at the rainforest music festival I took some shots of the traditional house samples of the natives of Sarawak. This is one of the nomad tribe's hut (can't recall the tribe, perhaps someone could). This is normally found deep in the jungle or in someone's orchard today though. Not much protection from wild beasts and falling coconuts and durians I suspect.

Mostly made of wood, bamboo and palm leaves. Note the tribal carving on the right, in case you thought you saw a troll or a gnome.

A nice setup. Reminds me of the song 'Mamula Moon'.

Have a great weekend. I'll be going for a picnic (and a float) in Kalumpang, if everything goes well. Right Dzu?

Gaban

Bert, this one's for you, sort of... (it's for your eyes only, non halal ma...)

Say the name Gaban and most of us in Malaysia will remember the hit children tv series Polis Angkasa Gaban or Space Cop Gaban.

While kids would take the gimmick ‘gaban can suit up in less than 0.05 second’ as ultra cool, this very statement rings as utter joke to adults. It’s not just silly, it's also mind blowing how we boys used to dig that heroic trait. But tell that to a kid and he’ll throw tantrums at you all day. Oh, and don't forget Naga Gaban, his trusty dragon companion. Hey, that even rings nice .

I recently had an unexpected encounter with gaban and needless to say it was hilarious! Imagine the number of jokes we came up with when we came across Gaban in a Japanese restaurant at The Curve.



Oh yeah, and the ice cream is specially brought to you by none other than Macha.

Highest quality eh? We totally hear ya...we'd expect nothing less from Gaban.

That's my ramen. Nice I tell you. Fit for... you guessed it, Gaban!

The Curve, a real cool place with extensive choice of eating places.

Ton Chan is located on the first floor. Cozy aint it?

The other side of the restaurant.

So, space troopers, if you take non-halal food, do drop by this Gaban of a place and bask in the memories of Gaban, our childhood hero. It should be splittin' fun(ny).

Now where did i put my Gaban suit...?

More Gaban Info Here.