Guess what.
Nokia is top handphone brand.
Twisties is top junk food brand.
And heckuva lot of people love Mentos.
Oh, oh. And 8% of our young wear Giorgio Armani!
You dont' agree, do you? You want to tell me off, don't you??
Go to http://youthsays.com/go/brands and find out what other brands have made the top, and go on.
I DARE you to give me your opinion.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
No really. I need your opinion on whether you agree/disagree, and WHY these brands are top among the young. Hur Hur Hur. BUZZ ME ANYTIME ON MSN!
Life is like waiting for the train to depart: the longer you wait, the worse it gets. The only way to beat it is to join it.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Wear my name out, wouldja?
Its utterly mind-boggling when an old friend starts to wear your name out -as if he couldn't type out your name enough and he has to do it with every sentence. Add to that the oddest tone I've ever heard (technically, typing on MSN has no tone, but trust me when I say I know a weird tone when I see it) him use.
My name was clearly, and undeniably, going to go out of style and so he felt fit to use it with shameless glee.
I may just go and change my name soon. Henceforth, I shall be known as 'The Journalist Formerly Known as Pauline'.
The conversation was brief, and truth be told, I ain't never seen my name in type so often before.
But back to him.
He was acting weird, no doubt about that. His usually chatty manner was diminished somewhat. I feel one part suspicious (maybe it wasn't him, but some creep pretending to be him to hack into my life) and two parts worried. He had always been a strange one, but never this strange.
Perhaps, if you care to, we can take a trip down my memory lane of when I first knew him.
I met him in National Service. Different camps, but we are both Catholics (one of the very few in camp, I doubt there were more than 5 of us rosary-wielding Roman Catholics there, many were Protestant or Methodist) and we were sitting under a tent, waiting for tea after activities. A mutual friend intro-ed him, and we struck up a conversation which, for the rest of my life, I will remember.
The very first few things he told me was his dreams of Jesus.
It was not until much later I discovered the extent of his religious fervor. He is a staunch (I hope that now I need not use 'was') Catholic, very religious, and possessing an odd charm and an even odder sense of humour.
Tall, too. Dark-ish (not K-dark, but more like a tanned, tennis-playing dark), with a great smile and a small freckle just above his lip. Generally all-round pleasant-looking. Rich as heck with designer clothes and a friggin' mansion in Kuantan. God, I had a huge crush on him, and I never told him. Though honestly I suspected he knew anyway. He liked me, that much I knew, though maybe never as much as I liked him. Liked me enough to help me walk through the mud to the infirmary when I twisted my ankle. Liked me enough to talk to me and spend time with me, and stick up for me.
We would walk to the small leech-infested lake and sit on the fallen tree logs on the sandy area and talk, for hours. Just talk. About him, about me, about everything. I regret now to say I have forgotten what the place looked like, in my head I bear only the vaguest memories of what the whole camp looked like.
But I remember him. He came back from overseas a few times, to his hometown of Kuantan, and would go to KL everytime he came back to Malaysia. The last time he did (2 years ago!), he brought along his girlfriend, a Hong Kong girl.
Not overly devastated by that, really. Some things just go away in time, after it has hurt enough. Some feelings fade, and they remain a hidden ache somewhere deep inside. This ache flares up every so often (such as now) but on general, as with everything in my life, I have hidden it somewhere in a dark corner.
Like a childhood toy, sometimes I take it out, look at it, and put it back neatly. Sometimes, just sometimes -rarely- I take out the old toys and throw them away.
But thinking about the conversation last night with him, I don't think the time has come for me to throw that memory away. I guess he left a huge impression on me, a huger impression than even he himself realises, me thinks.
Its strange. I don't even know why I typed all this old stuff out. Maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to see that some things just happen and seriously, only God will ever know why.
As with so many things as well, I think I have learnt that I have to let go sometimes. I think, maybe-perhaps-kinda-sorta, I have.
Even now.
My name was clearly, and undeniably, going to go out of style and so he felt fit to use it with shameless glee.
Hi Pauline. How are you doing, Pauline.
I am fine, Pauline. Me too, Pauline.
Bye Pauline, I have to go now. Take care, Pauline. We had great memories, Pauline.
I may just go and change my name soon. Henceforth, I shall be known as 'The Journalist Formerly Known as Pauline'.
The conversation was brief, and truth be told, I ain't never seen my name in type so often before.
But back to him.
He was acting weird, no doubt about that. His usually chatty manner was diminished somewhat. I feel one part suspicious (maybe it wasn't him, but some creep pretending to be him to hack into my life) and two parts worried. He had always been a strange one, but never this strange.
Perhaps, if you care to, we can take a trip down my memory lane of when I first knew him.
I met him in National Service. Different camps, but we are both Catholics (one of the very few in camp, I doubt there were more than 5 of us rosary-wielding Roman Catholics there, many were Protestant or Methodist) and we were sitting under a tent, waiting for tea after activities. A mutual friend intro-ed him, and we struck up a conversation which, for the rest of my life, I will remember.
The very first few things he told me was his dreams of Jesus.
It was not until much later I discovered the extent of his religious fervor. He is a staunch (I hope that now I need not use 'was') Catholic, very religious, and possessing an odd charm and an even odder sense of humour.
Tall, too. Dark-ish (not K-dark, but more like a tanned, tennis-playing dark), with a great smile and a small freckle just above his lip. Generally all-round pleasant-looking. Rich as heck with designer clothes and a friggin' mansion in Kuantan. God, I had a huge crush on him, and I never told him. Though honestly I suspected he knew anyway. He liked me, that much I knew, though maybe never as much as I liked him. Liked me enough to help me walk through the mud to the infirmary when I twisted my ankle. Liked me enough to talk to me and spend time with me, and stick up for me.
We would walk to the small leech-infested lake and sit on the fallen tree logs on the sandy area and talk, for hours. Just talk. About him, about me, about everything. I regret now to say I have forgotten what the place looked like, in my head I bear only the vaguest memories of what the whole camp looked like.
But I remember him. He came back from overseas a few times, to his hometown of Kuantan, and would go to KL everytime he came back to Malaysia. The last time he did (2 years ago!), he brought along his girlfriend, a Hong Kong girl.
Not overly devastated by that, really. Some things just go away in time, after it has hurt enough. Some feelings fade, and they remain a hidden ache somewhere deep inside. This ache flares up every so often (such as now) but on general, as with everything in my life, I have hidden it somewhere in a dark corner.
Like a childhood toy, sometimes I take it out, look at it, and put it back neatly. Sometimes, just sometimes -rarely- I take out the old toys and throw them away.
But thinking about the conversation last night with him, I don't think the time has come for me to throw that memory away. I guess he left a huge impression on me, a huger impression than even he himself realises, me thinks.
Its strange. I don't even know why I typed all this old stuff out. Maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to see that some things just happen and seriously, only God will ever know why.
As with so many things as well, I think I have learnt that I have to let go sometimes. I think, maybe-perhaps-kinda-sorta, I have.
Even now.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Back to Makeshift Kitchen; A Quickie Update
*hides in corner, munching stale cookies and cursing the smell of plaster*
Its back to construction again, and the kitchen is once again unavailable (albeit the 'wet' one remains intact) and once again,
*ahek*
dust. dustdustdust.
DAAAAAAAAAAAA-st.
*retreats into corner even further, and consoles self with chants of twomoreweeks, twomoreweeks.*
Moving on.
So life has been busy busy, which explains my long (its long for me) absence in my blog. I am taking time off reading gofugyourself (which I am currently addicted to) to blog a bit. Hur hur hur.
There are too many assignments piled up, both Uni and work, and while the cheques at the end of it are satisfying, the workpile is crazy and hence I feel a little moderation and nay-saying will be in place.
But, if you know me at all you will know I say this all the time, and still take on crazy 24-hour deadline stories anyway.
And you know me so well, do you not? *wink*
By the way, I need stories of unusual Valentines' Day celebrations -unusual, unconventional ways of celebrating V-day with your loved ones.
So no flowers-chocolates-dinner-movie stuff. Give me death-defying-bungee-jump-race-car-rally-paintball-playing-serenading-in-canteen-spreading-roses-at-your-feet kind of unusual.
Any stories to share, anyone? ^^,
Its back to construction again, and the kitchen is once again unavailable (albeit the 'wet' one remains intact) and once again,
*ahek*
dust. dustdustdust.
DAAAAAAAAAAAA-st.
*retreats into corner even further, and consoles self with chants of twomoreweeks, twomoreweeks.*
Moving on.
So life has been busy busy, which explains my long (its long for me) absence in my blog. I am taking time off reading gofugyourself (which I am currently addicted to) to blog a bit. Hur hur hur.
There are too many assignments piled up, both Uni and work, and while the cheques at the end of it are satisfying, the workpile is crazy and hence I feel a little moderation and nay-saying will be in place.
But, if you know me at all you will know I say this all the time, and still take on crazy 24-hour deadline stories anyway.
And you know me so well, do you not? *wink*
By the way, I need stories of unusual Valentines' Day celebrations -unusual, unconventional ways of celebrating V-day with your loved ones.
So no flowers-chocolates-dinner-movie stuff. Give me death-defying-bungee-jump-race-car-rally-paintball-playing-serenading-in-canteen-spreading-roses-at-your-feet kind of unusual.
Any stories to share, anyone? ^^,
Friday, January 23, 2009
No More Makeshift Kitchen


After all my whining and moaning, the new 'wet' kitchen is finally done up. Its gorgeous. Its sparkling. Its spiffy. My dad is planning to turn the actual kitchen area into a dry kitchen/lounge area so I can entertain my friends and cook at the same time. Muahaha.
So here is an official invitation to you guys (and by you guys, you guys know who you are!): HOUSE WARMING, in February. On the menu: Beef stew with potatoes! Fried chicken! Cabbage with corned beef! My special omelletes and rice. If I got time I make soup. For dessert -chocolate mousse, what else??? Lol.
For entertainment, we have cards and Monopoly. Don't cringe! Monopoly with friends (more than 5) is uber-fun.
Sunrise over Sin Chew

Thought the sky looked so pretty, like a painted picture. Sorry my camera phone ain't the greatest, nor are my photography skills. Heh.
And here is something I have never seen (which I think is rather stupid, really), but J said its common....
What the -
Sunday, January 11, 2009
and because my friends are absolutely hilarious, awesome people

There is a grimace on K's face coz' I snapped the camera when he was still talking. Har de har. Photo taken on 22nd December (yeah I know, so belated, but there is something screwy with my phone... transfering pics is a hassle) during a special Xmas dinner at K's place.
J is on the left, V in the middle and K on the right. They are doing that Dragonball thingy, with V framed in the middle. *snigger* Too bad I took it on VGA. Should have done it on 3MP.
But this pic is for the amusement of all. Har har har.
Friday, January 9, 2009
*ahek, ahek*
There is dust everywhere, gardarnit.
Dust on my lappy. *whoosh*
Dust on my carpet (among other things) *har-chew*
Dust on my bed. *ahek*
Dust, dust, dust everywhere.
Not Stardust. Not GoldenDust. Not any kind of mysteriously magical dust which will magically transport me to a magical dust-free land.
CONCRETE DUST. Thats what it is.
Its everywhere. It permeates my clothes, skin, hair, feet, arms, legs (and certain areas not polite for mentioning in blogs.......)
*awkward silence*
I meant my dog's underbelly, what did you think???????
Since construction/renovation began two weeks or so ago, I have been denied the use of my kitchen (except for boiling water) and have not had a proper decent coffee+egg sandwhich breakfast of which I am so utterly fond of. Its horrible.
I do not care that now the back part of my kitchen (formerly known as storeroom/treadmill room) is turning out rather nice and spiffy, I don't care the tiles look great, I don't care about anything.
I WANT MY KITCHEN BACK! I want my egg sandwhich! I want my one-hour breakfast! I do NOT want to eat on my bed anymore!
(because the upstairs has been turned into a temporary kitchen, with the plates, cups and utensils all on the library/landing area)
I am being so whiny. It will be over in a week, actually (gotta stop for CNY) but I will still mumble and grumble.
Oh well. There IS one, just ONE good thing about this though.... Kitchen chores have been magically reduced to zero.
T-T Still no consolation.
On other matters though... Classes start again pretty soon, yes?? Congrats for all me buddies for our rather good results (seeing we all thought we would fail, I myself am pissed at myself for f-ing up my BC paper, but that is of no mater).
And that means you, K. See what a little studying can do?? Your results are so much better this round!
See you all in class on Monday!!!!
P/S: God I missed you guys. Truly.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
...and here's saying goodbye to 2008
2008 ended
with a good 3 days of alternately shivering violently (teeth chattering), vomiting and crying from the pain in my feet and hands. A nasty viral fever which left me completely confounded, frightened that I caught dengue and with so little appetite I forget what food tastes like. Worst 3 days of my life.
39.3 degrees. Thats how high it was for 3 whole days. I hit nearly 40 sometime on the first night, I think.
Frightened the heck out of my mom too. She rushed me to the hospital (went to the clinic twice before, both GPs pescribed antibiotics (dumbasses) and did nothing to cure me) when I told her my toes have gone blue and numb, and my hands went swollen and red. Took a blood test to rule out dengue. Blood counts a bit low, says doc, but nothing alarming. A very nasty viral fever is all it is.
And now it is day 5, I feel better, but am left with sore hands and feet, tender skin and a thirst that won't go away. A lethargy that pretty much confines me to my bed, and even now, as I type, I am appearing offline, and I don't actually want to type this at all but I know I have to do something or I'll go crazy.
Total casualty includes a few million brain cells and all my taste buds.
So sorry if I am not in the mood to talk, or do not reply messages. I am just not in the mood. Perhaps when I am not feeling lousy I will emerge again.
3 complete days in bed can do nasty things to a person, and constant, self-pitying brooding is the worst of it. So now I am in a less-than-cheery mood, and in a deep blue funk.
2009 began
with a nasty cement taste in my mouth (from the renovation going on). Everything seems tinged with it now. The noise is deafening.
My kitchen is going to be done up all spiffy, with a wet/dry kitchen like me mom always wanted. The tiles are going to be hacked up, replaced (and very nice tiles they are) and the toilet downstairs refurbished.
The upstairs isn't spared, and the parquet will be replaced with tiles, the toilet will be spiffied up too.
My dad is going the DIY way. He has hired, on recommendation from a neighbour, a very hardworking independent sub-contractor, who does all the work, and my dad bought the materials himself. Its saved my mom a bundle of cash, and in the end will cost much less than what we were first quoted.
There's cement dust and mud dust and wall dust and all manner of dust covering every inch of my house now.
Bleargh. I itch.
So its' 2009. Its yet another year of heartache, joy, happiness, misery, stress and trepidation.
2008 has been a more eventful year than I like, what with emotional, physical, and friendship stress. I hope I grew a little wiser, but overall I think I just got more cynical and far less trusting of people. There is a Lesson somewhere hidden in the folds of 2008, but I think I missed it. I got its' cousin, Bad Mistakes, instead.
I made Bad Mistakes, I made Good Choices and hopefully 2009 will see more of the latter. Maybe this time I'll keep my eye out for Lesson Learned too.
So now this post is ended. Not quite a happy end-of-year post, but then again.
How many New Years does one spend amidst dust, dirt, cement, cracked lips and sore feet?
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