Old house, memories, flour, end of the world

My mom and I were just talking about making lanterns for the Chinese New Year when I suddenly remembered the atmosphere in my old house. I can even smell the altar right now. Hmm…brings back memories.

I would always rummage through the altar closet to look at the lamps, vases, lanterns, and especially the red cloth you’d hang on your door when new year is around the corner. For some reason I always do that at night. (Actually I rummage through a lot of stuff in the house just about anytime of the year because I was always too free). We had a few of those red cloths, embroidered ones and plain ones. I like the embroidered ones but my mom was always rooting for the plain one. We would argue on which to use and of course, every time, she won.

And then there’s that morning feeling in the living room. I wake up, go down the stairs to the sofa in the living room and continue my sleep. Then I’d start to sweat because I forgot to turn the fan on. But sometimes the cool breeze would blow in through the window and you’d hear people coming back from the market. I would only get up to turn on the fan when the heat was getting unbearable or if the postman just dropped by. There’s also the smell of the joss stick burning. Once my mom bought the wrong ones and they made tears well in my eyes.

And when mom returns from the market I would grab her bags to see what food she bought me :P Food in Pulau Tikus is always good. I haven’t had a decent breakfast since I stayed here up on the hill surrounded by uh, hills. And there’s also the famous pork satay sold by the uncle who parks his cart on our street. Now I’m starting to wonder, why our street?

Oh there’s also our back door. Our favourite back door. When you have nothing to do, you open the back door and stare out at the alley. When your dog needs to pee, you open the back door. When you wanna throw food out, you open the back door and the cats would come. When you need to fag, you open the back door. Of course I don’t fag. I still remember how it feels like sitting with your butt on the brick outside the back door. My back door!

And then there’s the balcony. And the door that opens to the compound. And the cool floor of the washing area. And the time when I was 5 when I shit in the potty in the living room. Okay we don’t need to go there do we? Sigh, all the memories are there. I wonder if these feelings and memories would soon fade away with time.

On the side note, the country is now short of flour. Next week onwards, no more roti canai for everyone. The mamaks can finally register a loss in their account. Yay! I’m so excited that the world is ending.

P.S. I hate having 2 blogs. I had to crack my head just to think of where this entry should go. Sheesh. This one? That one? Finally this one. I should put another entry full of pics in the other blog. Yes I think I will. Yay! Problem solved.

Crying out loud in the middle of the dark place down there

Just in case you didn’t know, I went for a talk today, one which includes dinner in it. It was in g Hotel, a new hotel and I’ve never been there before. I have to say, the lobby was impressive. Since I couldn’t find any signs which could show me to the room where the talk will be held (the lobby was impressive but dark) I went up to the front desk and asked the man, “Do you know how I can get to the dinner talk by XXX?” He disappears into the back and I saw the automatic wall close behind him. Cool. Just like some secret passage. A moment later he came back and he asked me, “Are you sure it’s held in g Hotel and not Gurney Hotel? We do not have any dinner talks tonight.” Ok, right now I’m not so sure. If the front desk says they don’t have one, surely they can’t be wrong. I mean, they’re the front desk! I called my friend to confirm and to hell with the front desk, I found my own way to the room.

While the talk was going on, I was thinking about the food. No, no, I’m not saying the talk was boring. I was just hungry. And one of the three things I learned in the second half of 2007 besides being able to belch whether I like it or not and to sleep sitting up in class, was that my stomach could not resist not making noises when I was hungry. Surely I don’t want my stomach to greet everyone in the room right? So I had to think of when I can have the food. The talk? It wasn’t bad at all actually. However, what was bad was the food. It was still tolerable but I’m not going to talk about it. The broccoli was nice though.

Now, one thing that I can be sure is bad is the service. It’s by far the worse by a hotel. Not like I’ve been to that many hotels. The worse that I know of, at least. Sometimes the waiter didn’t even ask if you still wanted the food and would just grab your plate away and replace it with a new one. It didn’t happen to me, because I was only busy eating and I finished my food relatively quick, but it happened to my friend who was talking away. And they would refill your drink after every sip you take. It’s like the level of the water must not be 95.978% or less. It’s annoying! You’re like talking and he’ll come up and say, “Excuse me” and start pouring away, with his fat hands blocking you from the person you were talking to. You get the idea.

I won’t say how his sleeves were brushing against my glass when he was pouring water for the person next to me. Okay so I just said it. It’s just that I’ve been rather particular about customer services after reading the book Secret Service by John R. DiJulius. It’s an interesting read. Now I know I’ve NEVER experienced excellent customer service. Nor have I seen it. Maybe I would if I pay a thousand bucks for a dinner. But customer service shouldn’t just extend to the super rich.

Anyway have you been experiencing déjà vu lately? I don’t know why but it happened like a dozen times this week. When the waiter took the plate off the table, boom! Déjà vu. When I was driving home and I saw a man in blue riding a bike in front of my car, boom! Déjà vu. Oh and you know, the drive home was freaking long. Those dumb people decided it would be a great idea to tar the road on a Friday night and made the weekend traffic pile 4 km long. And with a bladder full of urine exceeding its limit didn’t help. To add salt to the injury, the engine vibration created resonance and the whole car was vibrating, at least I think it did, with the focal point just right below my bladder. Hallelujah.

Like a greedy kid in a toy store, only everything is free

What do I like about libraries? Simple. You get to read books you otherwise wouldn’t get to unless you pay for them. In the library I get to read for free.

I just went to the library again, nope it’s not the one with the strings. This is the other one in the uni, the one where the staircase smells like that of a newly built multi-storey car park, where the lighting is brighter and the shelves less crowded (i.e. the whole world can see what you’re doing) and where the pull-out book rest on the shelves don’t make high pitch creaks. And also the one where you can find a lot of business related books! I just found that out a while ago. Now I get to read about why McDonalds is where it is and how I can make huge profits on eBay. I’m excited!

There is a catch though. You can read for free, take it home and make hundreds of copies (though I don’t really see the need to) but you can only borrow four. And I’ve already reached that quota! I hate this. I think I have to finish one of the books tonight, return it tomorrow and get another one done as soon as possible too. Damn. I have no time! To hell with the Astro Max advertisement where that Indian man says “I’ve got time, I’ve got time, I’ve got time” repeatedly. Everyone has the same amount of time each day asshole. Just because Astro Max (it's freaking expensive too) lets you record the shows doesn’t mean you’ll have the time to watch it. Just like in my case, I have the books staring at me right now but that doesn’t mean I have the time to finish it. And what am I doing here telling you all this, wasting my time? Heck, time’s ticking!

Kthxbye. And that would be the influence of the folks in ChickenMafia have on me.

Note: Tried looking for the Astro Max advertisement online but to no avail. If anyone happens to know about it, let me know. By the way, Astro is a satellite TV service provider here.

To pull or not to pull

Teachers always say we students never like going to the library and they’ll try all sorts of attempts to make us go. Well, listen up. Not everyone hates the library. I for one, do not. That’s fact no. 1. But of course it depends on what you look for in the library. Whatever the teachers said has an indirect truth, at least in my case. I go to the library but I don’t look for books related to the subject I major in, i.e. the things the teachers teach. That’s fact no. 2. Still, to say we don’t like going is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Anyway, what I was going to say is, today, when I was in the library, in one of my favorite sections – that’d be CC, P, T, TR, yet to check out TT, the not so often QB and QC, though lately I frequent T – I saw a string hanging down from the ceiling. I don’t think I saw it before or maybe I was just too oblivious to notice it until today. I looked up and there its end was, attached to the ceiling by some cone shaped object, like some old fashioned bulb holder only there’s no space for one. Thank god it wasn’t this (watch the second video). My hands were itching to pull it but I hesitated. What’s gonna happen if I do? Will an alarm go off? Hah. No. Will the lights to the whole row of shelves turn off? That’s going to attract attention. I don’t want that. What’s gonna happen?

I looked back at the books and around me to see if anyone was looking at my awkward staring into the ceiling pose. I wanted to look at it, to scrutinize it, to know what its function was. But what if it’s a hidden camera to trap unsuspecting, dupable people like me? Well, of course I was full of suspicions, but who’s gonna know? I looked up again at it, pretending to be looking at the books high up on the shelves. What the hell is it for!?

In the end, I didn’t pull it. And I still don’t know what it is for. All the while I was too conscious of who or what might be looking at me. Idiot.

Tune Hotels

Look what’s new! It’s every traveler’s dream! Ok it’s my dream come true. Check out the new Tune Hotel, Asia’s first no frills hotel. You can get a room for as low as MYR 9.99! That’s cheaper than guest houses which I would usually opt for. Of course you'll have to pay for the air-con but that doesn't bother me because I don't need it :) The unfortunate thing is it’s now only available in KL. Well let’s hope it expands soon enough throughout Asia. Yay!

I shall say no more. Check out the website if you're all interested already.

Power Puff Boys

Today I went to the branch office of the country’s main telecommunications provider to make some enquiries. I sat there with my back facing the counters while waiting for my number. Mom was looking at the people behind the counters telling me how slow they are at their work. I sat with my ass facing them for a reason. I don’t want to know how slow they are. It will just make my blood boil. And I definitely didn’t need commentaries fed into my ears either. Tick tock tick tock. My number is still not called. Only one counter is open for enquiries and that 3032 two guys there are taking forever. (I was 3036) I can’t imagine how long they might take to chat up a girl. Maybe they’ll keep on going until she gets old and her breasts sag.

That’s it! I said. I’m gonna…I’m gonna…

Just sit down and wait patiently. Hah! Were you thinking I was going to explode? Did you think that I screamed at the top of my lungs, and took home the drama queen award? Dream on. I did nothing. I’d rather take home the composure award. Patience, my friend. Patience. Did you not learn that in school?

With my butt nicely rooted to the sofa (thank god it’s cushion!) I stared out the door. A woman walks in. The middle-aged guard opens the door. He asks her what she wants. A man walks in. The middle-aged guard opens the door and asks what he wants too. Middle-aged guard finishes his shift and young, bald guard takes over. A woman walks in. Young, bald guard pretends to be blind. And mute. For the rest of his shift, use your imagination.

I continue to observe. A tall man walks in and turns to his friend. He gives the “Hey, how’s it coming?” gesture with his head. His friend flashes him his queue number. Tall Man pats his friend on the back and gives him the “Since we’ll have to wait till the next lifetime, why don’t we go out?” look. They give each other an approving nod and leave. They didn’t exactly leave actually. They simply walked out and stood by the glass door. Both start to smoke a fag. With the cigarette in his mouth, Tall Man starts mumbling to his friend. His friend, who also has a cigarette in his mouth, mumbles back. They both laugh.

Ladies and gentlemen, that was the art of puffing. Do it like the pro. Man, I wanted to say faggots with their faggotry but the definition isn’t right. I might only confuse you up with my own language. But it’s just so fitting don’t you think? Faggots smoking fags doing their faggotry speaking faganese.

Hypermart Hypernews

I went to the hypermarket (the one I went to yesterday) a few days ago with some relatives and my mom. That second time I went there since its opening (it’s a new place) the lady at the counter made some mistakes scanning the stuffs we bought. First she mixed up the stuff my aunt bought with the stuff my mom bought. So she had to cancel those she accidentally scanned but she didn’t cancel all the stuff because later for some reason she scanned one of it again and put it back as if it was not scanned yet. (hope you’re not confused now) So there they are, five of them, my mom, my aunt, the cashier, her superior, and my uncle who was trying to chat them up. Heh. He can’t close his mouth. He’s the chatty, teasing, jocular type. Me? Well, I just stood there and watched the confusion, and taking this picture, of course.

Take a look at the counter. Funny isn’t it? I can’t figure out where the customer is supposed to queue up. The thing that shows the price is facing the right in the picture, so obviously the customer has to be standing on the right. But the proper place where you give your million dollar signature is on the left. So you’ll have to walk around the counter to do that? And why are people from the next counter queuing up in the same place you’re supposed to queue up? That would create a lot of butt grinding, feet crushing, stares zapping, elbows thrusting bunch of angry customers. Really, where’s the sense in this design?

Yesterday, I went there again – you know that already, I got my mouse there – this time only with my mom. We paid at the counter and after that she asked me to check if the cashier accidentally scanned on any of the items twice. I looked, said no, but she didn’t believe me and checked it herself over and over again. Moms. After she experienced the clumsiness of one of the cashiers it’ll forever be etched in her mind that cashiers from that place is inefficient. Or maybe it’s because I looked at the receipt like I don’t care. But I did check, okay!

Let’s rewind the time now, back to when we first got there. When we reached there, mom didn’t carry a handbag so she asked me to keep her handphone which she took out from her pocket. Why? Because she was afraid it’ll explode. Moms! They get paranoid after watching news on TV. Apparently this guy in the news had his phone in his pocket while driving and it exploded, burning his balls.

“Mama, what’s the point of you bringing a phone if I’m the one keeping it? If I want to call you, I’ll be like calling myself.”

She laughed and took the phone back.

And you know, she’ll give lectures – they’re not long because I’ll stop her halfway – when I overcharge my phone or anything.

She’s not going to like it if she reads this. But of course, she doesn’t read my blog. So I’m safe.

More pictures of the hypermarket below! But be patient, we’ll get there. I got bored waiting for my mom while she chose onions so I took pictures. It first started with this guy trying to sweep under our trolley. He sweeps everywhere, every time! He sweeps while people are walking by, he sweeps under the racks, he sweeps the same spot over and over, he sweeps… While I looked at his always moving broom, his mopping friend decided to join in. So there they were, sweeping and mopping frantically. Oh no! Dirt! Sweep! Mop! Get off! That’s my spot! Of course while they fight over the same tiny spot, their happy friend riding the I-don’t-know-what-you-call-it thing came, and he wins! With one sweep over the floor, the dirt was gone for good! He would win no matter what because that thing he’s riding on can spray water and sweep it off, faster than you can say “dirt!”. So it’s like a mop and a broom. Brilliant. He then went circling around small display racks celebrating his victory. I’m not joking. He really did go round and round that small area. Obviously, this was the time I took out my camera. I tried to snap a picture of the happy guy but he was too fast. He disappeared into the crowd, or rather the crowd decided to block my view. That was when I saw that there were suddenly two more additions to the mopping gang! Four of them in that small little area! Is this some kind of a mob mop meeting?

I couldn’t get all four of them in the picture. They’re hidden somewhere behind the annoying photo-hungry crowds.

I won’t rest till I get a picture of happy guy and his little car so I went after him. There! I finally got it!

And there’s another mopping guy here too. They’re like doing the cleaner tango in the picture.

That’s it on today’s hypermart hypernews! There will be no hypermart news anymore. You can thank me by kissing my feet.

Oh did I say that they have cool chairs in the food court? I’d like to steal one someday.