Pembunuhan pada Malam Jumaat

Twilight Twi-bright,
A painful movie I saw tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

I am anything but an unsparing film pundit. Neither am I selective about the movies I watch. Action blockbusters, screen adaptations from novels, teenage/college saga, chick flicks, lengthy Bollywood dramas, romantic comedies, feel-good stories, horror series, must-watch epics, soft porn (forgive the lack of better category, since I must admit I have watched one too many American Pies, National Lampoon and whatnot), Malaysian and Indonesian production; you name it, I've watched it.

So when I say Twilight was painful to watch, I really mean it. It is not unusual that screen adaptations fail miserably (except perhaps PS I Love You), but Twilight was a big fat disappointment, like the big fat D on my first Additional Mathematics paper in 2004.

The script was lacking in sophistication, and the playwright, badly written. In the whole 2 and a 1/2 hours, I sat cringing at the exchanges between Edward Cullen, the pale charmer of a vampire and Bella, his equally pale counterpart. It wasn't so much cheesy lines like "Your scent is like a drug to me", "I just really want to suck your blood" (or something to that effect) that sent me reeling with laughter, but it was the whole awkwardness and lack of flair in the way the script was written.

Cullen, especially, talks like a social maladroit, and Bella utters lines that seem pulled out of thin air, suddenly cheesy, and always an awkward response to what her heartthrob had to say (which wasn't much, by the by). Then there is the whole awkward Daddy character, and the hilarious "Just keeping it real son" Native American man with his son. All were poor souls given dry lines like "Oh, so you caught that" when Bella asked the young Native American guy what they meant when they said "The Cullens never come [to the beach]".

Discounting the whole cheap hairdryer and drifting car tricks, I think the unjustified nervous fits the duo are thrown into wins the awkward element trophy, hands down. To my shortsighted eyes, the camera close-ups on the whole temple throbbing, throat-tightening and painful facial expressions could pass off very well as allergic reactions of some sort. I never caught on the reason they overplayed those adrenaline-rush moments.

Closely tailing that would be the "glassy-skin under the sunlight". Hollywood makeup/costumes/effects saw to its dearth this movie around. Can you really blame the UChicago audience for our exaggerated "oohs" and continuous laughter? I say not. Shoddy scenes, laughable dialogue, terrible makeup, somewhat wooden acting? Certainly our cue to laugh.

On a counterpoint, Edward Cullen was finally given a legibly sweet line near the end of the film, and this I'll never forget: "Is it not enough that you live happily with me for as long as you live?". Oh, and the innocent, "no sex, kiss only" teenage romance is a tantalizing change. We can now live with nightmares that a kiss may not just be a kiss, and a hicky may not just be a hicky. Necking brings a completely revolutionary meaning. Besides, you can't miss the AIDS metaphor in this.

Otherwise, I daresay a murder occurred tonight. Stephenie Meyer, my empathies to the murder of your trilogy. But surely this woman could not care less as long as the royalties keep coming, ain't it? Perhaps her babies were questionable in the first place, no?

Thanks for casting a hot vampire, but I'll play it safe with a normal mortal who's 20 only once. And really, thanks for the laughs lah.

Put The Hate Back On The Shelf

I am malay, a Malaysian and I have dark-brown hair and sawo matang skin.

I once spent many evenings playing shyly with Pearly, a Chinese friend who lives a few doors away from my grandmother's home.

I once shared a bubble bath with Nami, a Japanese-Indian friend.

I once shared my lunches with Shiori, a Japanese friend.

I once pretended that the playground at Fairfield was mine and all mine with Leanne, a Mat Salleh friend.

I once shared a laugh with Paul, when I got berated for going in the concrete wading pool with my diapers and him peeing on the floor. Paul is German.

I once learned how to cycle from my neighbor, Shazelyn, a Mamak (forgive the lack of a better term) friend.

I once shared a pillow and my dreams with Latha, an Indian friend.

I have been brought up in part by Bibik, my Indonesian second mother.

I was four, five, six, seven, twelve, sixteen.

Perhaps we should all rewind to that age when race, color, nationality, religion are meaningless; but friendships everything.

Perhaps we should all try to embrace diversity, respect differences and understand reality.

Perhaps we should forget about who triumphs and who founders, because in the end everybody loses.

Perhaps we should lift our veils and use EyeMo Moist for the eyes, and Clorox for the mouth while we're at it.

Perhaps we should bear in mind that we should identify with things, just because we are human.

Perhaps we should not stay in the shadows because we are not this color or that, this nationality or that, this religion or that.

Perhaps then can we put the hate back on the shelf.

p/s: Slander and preposterous.  We really have cause for worry if the human race can stoop as low as this. Enough said. 

The Forgotten -lah

Lah. It's an integral component of my life as a Malaysian. It is my identity as a Malaysian. I say it, I hear it, I overhear it, I write it. To make a long story short, my language and experiences are rich with lah, lah.

Okaylah. Shit lah. Tahilah. Fucklah. "Rajinlah you". "Cutelah you". Adoilah. Sweetlah. Cannot stand it lah. "Whatlah you!". "Why lah?". Alah. Besoklah. Tak mau lah. Busuklah. Bodohlah. Good lah. Baiklah. Takutlah. Love you lah. "Can lah?". Pak Lah. Masalah.

These are uttered effortlessly, every passing day. By the by, you know what I forget?

Alhamdulillah.

Sometimes I need reminders like this.

p/s: With a very sheepish face (imagine shyness to the power of 10), I formally welcome the Ahmats to this blog. Sister tells me she found this through an interested friend who googled her name, and showed her. Brother insists that the senior googled himself and asked "You dah baca blog adik?". Adoilah. Malu lah like this. Please read sparingly. Segan-segan datang sebulan sekali only, okay? Haha. Muahs!

Show Nima Some Love

Requited love: When it comes knocking on my door, I will carry the sunshine in my pocket. All through life, 28, 47, 60 and all. Or till the day I am six feet under.

Requited love: They should come in droves like my unsuspecting bundle of joy. A child's unconditional love, you see. Why can't we love like that?

It's high time you both blow your aunt some kisses, loves.

p/s: From way up there, you and I, you and I.



p/p/s: This song belongs in my "overplayed" playlist. Think it'll make into yours? Yes, I'm sleep-ingrid Michaelson for a week now=)

Tips Rumahtangga Bahagia

Setelah membaca karya ini, saya amat terpanggil untuk berkongsi beberapa tips bagi menumpaskan musuh utama semua rumahtangga. Oh, bukannya orang ketiga seperti anak dara seksi di rumah seberang atau bujang lapuk yang suka separuh bogel membasuh kereta di hadapan isteri anda. Racun perosak, makhluk perosak dan yang seangkatan dengan mereka lah!

Bagi mereka yang perlukan pertolongan yang lebih grafik: ya, lipas, tikus, nyamuk, dan segala macam binatang kecil yang busuk, suka curi makanan atau merosakkan barangan di rumah kediaman tergolong dalam golongan yang membinasakan dan perlu dibinasakan. Jangan biarkan mereka berleluasa, itu yang pasti. Anda harus proaktif sebelum mereka mengawal rumahtangga anda.

Saya menyaksikan sendiri kerakusan Cik Ti menggigit talian telefon, baju-baju serta meninggalkan roti yang berlubang. Jangan sesekali anda cuba tunjuk pandai dan makan sisa Cik Ti, kerana anda boleh dijangkiti penyakit berjangkit dan betul-betul menjadi kurang celik.

Sepanjang (hampir) 20 tahun membesar dalam iklim khatulistiwa, saya telah menderma-paksa darah melebihi ukuran liter yang disyorkan oleh Tabung Derma Darah Malaysia (atau apa entah nama betulnya) yang mempunyai ibu pejabat di Jalan Tun Abdul Razak. Semuanya tanpa belas kasihan telah diambil oleh Cik Muk. Saya pasti anda semua yang juga membesar di tanah tropikal seperti Malaysia pernah merasa benci terhadap Cik Muk yang tidak jemu menganggu.

Dan Cik Li? Ya, Cik Li sering menyebabkan ramai yang hilang suara apabila kehadiran Cik Li menyebabkan anak tekak terpekik dan melolong. Saya kurang faham mengapa kehadiran Cik Li boleh menyebabkan tindakan sistem Sympathetic (degupan jantung laju, otot rangka bersedia untuk panjat kerusi) sebegitu sekali tapi saya bersetuju bau Cik Li memang kurang menyenangkan, kadang kala mengalahkan bau badan budak hanyir yang tidak mandi ketika perhimpunan sekolah. Okay, mungkin tidak. Perkara kedua terlampau menggerunkan.

Ah, marilah kita berbalik kepada tips-tips cemerlang yang saya janjikan. Bagaimana untuk mencapai kepuasan maksima menghapuskan kaum bangsat ini? Senang sahaja. Ikuti pembongkaran berikutan. Oh, sebelum itu, biarlah saya umumkan disini bahawa kesemua metodologi benar-benar berkaitan dengan orang yang masih lagi hidup, dan orang yang ada kaitan dengan saya. Jadi, sebarang rujukan sila lakukan kepada mereka yang berkenaan.

*****

Anda vs Cik Ti
Malam-malam sebelum tidur, sediakan perangkap tikus yang boleh dibeli dari kedai apek Apeng atau kedai runcit koman. Hendak-hendaknya yang flimsy (maaf, tidak tahu perkataan Melayu yang sesuai) dan nampak kurang memberangsangkan agar dapat menipu Cik Ti yang semakin hari semakin pandai kerana evolusi (saya tidak percaya kesemua tahi Darwin ini, nanti kita boleh bincang, tapi ayat ini bunyinya lebih sedap dengan perkataan saintifik seperti evolusi).

Jangan letakkan keju, itu hanya penipuan media barat yang mahu mempromosi produk tenusu mereka. Sebaliknya, letakkan sebarang makanan yang anda paling suka. Jika nasi lemak yang dibeli di hadapan sekolah berdekatan, itulah yang sebaik-baiknya. Ini kerana Cik Ti sangat pandai memilih makanan yang dia tahu digemari oleh penghuni rumah. Namun, saya paling mengesyorkan ikan masin. Seterusnya, tunggu.

Cik Ti sudah terperangkap! Apa langkah seterusnya? Ikutilah gelagat nenek kesayangan saya: Jerang air dalam cerek yang bersiul-siul. Apabila sudah masak, jangan segan untuk menuangkannya di atas Cik Ti! Perasaan melihat Cik Ti yang diburu lama itu menggelupur pasti boleh membawa kepuasan. Mungkin ia tindakan sadis, tetapi anda akan berterima kasih kepada penulis apabila hidung kembang merasa kepuasan yang tidak terhingga itu nanti.

Anda vs Cik Muk
Ambil apa-apa aerosol yang ada di rumah anda, tidak kiralah Shieldtox atau Ridsect. Jikalau anda pencinta alam sekitar, cubalah yang mengandungi kurang Chloroflorocarbon atau CFC, walaupun saya kurang pasti jika sebarang kemungkinan wujud. Lagipun, pensyarah Kimia Dalam Atmosfera saya mengatakan bahawa "ozon adalah masalah lapuk sekarang"(sumpah, saya tidak meletakkan kata-kata dalam mulutnya).

Apa-apa pun, jangan semburkan ke udara. Sebaliknya, semburlah pada badan anda sendiri. Abang saya sendiri pernah melakukan perkara ini, dan beliau mengesahkan sukses langkah ini. Walau bagaimanapun, pastikan anda tidak mengalami sebarang kelukaan atau masalah kulit seperti kusta. Selamat cuba, dan selamat mandi!

Anda vs Cik Li
"Aaaaaaaah", pekik rakan anda. Uh-oh, Cik Li alert! Tahan keinginan anda untuk roll your eyes dan sebaliknya bantulah golongan yang memerlukan dengan cara ini: Lari dengan pantas untuk kejar Cik Li. Simpulan bahasa "lipas kudung" itu tidak akan membawa erti jika Cik Li tidak pantas berlari. Jadi, larilah, apa tunggu lagi?

Perangkap Cik Li dengan tangan, atau jika anda golongan yang mudah geli, gunakan khidmat tisu atau plastik. Pegang dengan erat, tetapi jangan sehingga memicit Cik Li sehingga ia mati. Kita idamkan sukses yang lebih manis, bukan? Apabila anda bersedia, cabutlah 2 sesungut Cik Li. Cik Li akan kelihatan sedikit hilang orientasi. Pada peringkat ini, anda boleh meminta rakan untuk mengambil gambar dengan SLR yang tergantung pada leher anda, atau dengan camera kodi Point & Shoot seperti yang dimiliki penulis dan paparkan ekspresi seceria mungkin.

Tapi, itu belum pengakhirnya lagi, saya ada langkah ultimate yang boleh membereskan semuanya. Takungkan air dalam singki, dan kemudian campak Cik Li dengan gaya bersahaja. Anda boleh tampak Cik Li berusaha tekun untuk lari ke atas, dan gagal. Tunggu sehingga Cik Li terapung dengan terbalik, dan anda akan tahu dengan pasti bahawa misi anda berjaya!

*****

Sekian sahaja tips-tips yang tidak seberapa daripada saya. Eh, tidak mungkin lah saya kejam sebegini. Jangan tuduh sebarangan. Saya bakal mengambil minor dalam Pembelajaran Alam Sekitar, tau! Saranan ini hanyalah hiburan dan acahan semata-mata, walaupun keadah-kaedah ini tidak dirangka dengan spontan (bermakna mereka benar dan sahih). Ah, tapi kadangkala adalah bagus untuk melepaskan segala inhibisi, tidak begitu? (",)

A Memo to Men Out There

Dear men out there,

I am calling your attention to some disturbing actions taken by a fraction of your clan. It may not be personal or pertaining to you, so forgive me for singling you, out of the billions out there. But really, this has been wanting of my time for a long time coming now. I am rendered sleepless nights, worried to the spine with what the eyes see and dislike.

Disturbing, in my books, dear men, is the sight of some of you in flesh-gripping, ultra-tight skinny jeans, crotches bulging. It may be what you dig as fashionable, you kaf-wau-raw-ya-alif-nun people, but to my eyes at least, it's very perturbing. One does not have to be a pervert to have his/her eyes led to that focal point with that kind of jeans. And one does not want to, mind you. Not when we're talking about a 2-hour long stage performance, when, truly, your virility is the last thing on my mind.

If you think you are empowered with that skin-tight designer skinny jeans just because it magnifies and fortifies your symbol of manhood down there, I beg you to think again. The world would be a calmer place without such eyesore.

Oh, while we're at it, let it be known here that flare and boot-leg cut does not flatter your manly curves (or lack thereof). I'm sorry to rain on your parade, I truly am. Here, to illuminate some of you who may be utterly clueless about my ranting thus far, I have provided with you with some images thanks to Google Image search.




Those styles are a no-no, okay? I have faith that you can be salvaged. Heck, I pray that your soul is spared from such fashion-murder thoughts. Stick to the conventional, straight-cut, loose-cut, slim fit, and we ladies would swoon over those any time.

Your friendly "I don't want you to look ceria" friend,
njahmat

Disclaimer: Note that the author has a qualifier for her argument on skinny jeans: ultra-tight, skin-tight, and thereabouts. She does not find fault with skinny jeans in general, just those obscenely crotch-centralizing ones. Run and be free with your normal skinny jeans, if you want. . . run and be free, I have no problem with that!

142 to say 143

One special day in 365 (and a 1/4 to be precise), maybe.
But I spend every waking second, minute, hour and day
knowing that when I determinately find that happy ending,
every day will be a 142, when I get to say 143.

AIA for My Rainy Days

There are a thousand and one things I have to say about you. Alas, it's disparaging how my every attempt at trying to document our lives together just fails miserably. The time line blurs and the recollections come outpouring on top of one another, impairing my ability to write as coherently as I can. But there is so much this Kid has to say, for her own sake, for her own peace of mind. I'll now pen as my heart speaks, and as my brain reminisces.

Five; that's when my life began revolving around you. I picked up after your stuff, searched for Archie comics for you to read upon our meals, and answered your phone calls. Not too long after, Kaklong embarked to the US, and it was just you and me, always. Do you remember how I would run to the door once I heard the sound of your motorcycle turning at the corner of Pesiaran Bruas? I would be there, with the door wide open, before you could shout for Bibik or break the glass like you once did.

Yes, you were a monster then--giving Wan, Bibik, Mama a hard time--but nonetheless a monster I loved and feared at the same time. I still don't comprehend why that one day you left home as Abang Boy and returned as Abang; but the latter is a term that rolls comfortably on my tongue now. Yes, Abang, Abang. Just saying it makes my heart skip a beat; out of warmth, out of reverence, out of fear.

I would sometimes get the door and hide behind it, pretending to surprise you, but you would always know. After my sekolah agama, or whenever you came back home from your lepak sessions at Plaza, you'd pick me up, twirl me in the air, and hang me upside down. When you put me on your shoulders, I would scream, shout and implore that you let me down; pretending to be disgusted that you act so childishly for your age. Then we would go about with our little game of me stepping on your feet, and walking around Wan's living room.

Which brother creates silly rhymes like "Aaadik kecik, adik hidung besar, jaaangan jadi abang kurang ajar"? Nobody, nobody but you. And tell me, whose brother sportingly dances to the "Handal Yakin Shieldtox" jig with his baby sister like you? Wacky, loony times indeed, but those are what I will hold on to for eternity. You promised to dukung me until I turned 14, remember? I do; because every time I came back home from KYS my first year, I would claim them and you'd grimace and comment that I had grown heavier and you tak larat anymore.

When it comes to being a first class tyrant of a brother, you win uncontested. For years, I have been applying calamine lotion, Clean & Clear pimple gel, Clearasil (whatever ointment of the month/year it was) onto your face and your back. For years, I have helped you on our mutual fight with blackheads by popping them for you. For years, I have walked on your back. For years, I have ironed your clothes and searched for your missing items (because I do them faster than Bibik, anyways). For years, I have let you share and not to mention lose/break my favorite hairbrushes (like the Sailormoon one we both agreed was the best hairbrush ever created, grrr!).

As adulthood pounces on me, I graduated to the position of your full-fledged PA. I run errands for you as I go out on my dates. I write the addresses on the Raya greeting cards you send to people. In fact, I pick those cards for you, don't I? I manage your duit raya give-outs for you. I drive WNC5414 and buy food for you. I call Perodua Servis and get the car serviced too. I relieve you off the task of driving Mama and Wan around. I am your official personal shopper. I make your dentist appointments for you. I accompany you on your speedy, "I-come-here-for-only-one-thing" shopping trips. What would you do without me, kan?

Alongside these years came the heartache, though. For years, I have cried liters of tears as you throw your temper tantrums. For years, I battled with your ke-panas-baran-an and lived in constant paranoia that you would play Brother Extraordinaire one moment and Incredible Hulk the other. For years, I have gotten very frustrated and angry at you at separate occasions and times. For years, I thought I would hate you forever after an episode with you; but I never do.

I never do because for all those years I bawled, you were ready to wipe my tears at different times. When I was at wits end about my college applications, it was you who noticed, and you I cried to. You encouraged me to do things I wanted, and told me not to please others. It secretly pleases me when you pull that frivolous protective brother act if I tell you about the stupid people who gets to me (like that dimwit "No Pok No Pok" Vietnamese salesperson at Times Square). You curse and bellow, and threaten to seek my vendetta for me, but we all know you're just acting poyo. But it truly boosts my morale, knowing I've got you behind my back.

You are popular and cool (yikes, although it hurts me to admit this out in the open, haha) and I feel belittled that I am your complete opposite. But you never cared. You're never ashamed of who I am, of the fact that I am your little sister. And this is why I see how your heart is pure despite all the pain you sometimes bring to all of us. You don't pretend. You are just the way you are (except maybe hiding your smoking, which bewilders me since we are well aware of that since you were in high school, anyways, haha).

If we talk about the materialistic joys in life, there is no dispute that you have indeed been my generous benefactor. My services never go unrewarded as I reap interests and riba' on top of my hard-earned gaji (haha)! All that aside, just the time you put in to drive me places, the places you take us for dinners, the countless times you picked me up from KL Sentral/INTEC/OU/Midvalley/LRT stations here and there, are enough to tell me that you care. Now, what would I do without you, kan?

As I write this, I am missing your antics at home; especially the way you bring Wan's house to laughter as you exit with your infamous "Death to Pak Lah!" salutation. Your entertaining speeches on why and how the goverment is a joke, why I shouldn't vote for BN, and your cunning imitations of Pak Lah dozing off to lala-land are sorely missed and appreciated. All the little patches of things I know about the world is because of you. Thank you.

Although I roll my eyes and incessantly tell you to grow up, how can I not laugh at your crazy ideas like eloping to Golok so that you can escape from the big, hoo haa wedding because you say you can't afford it? How can I not be tickled by your preposterous dream of serving steak and tapai on your wedding day? Or that eating good food to you is "nikmat gila, Adik, like kahwin empat"?

I freak out when you taunt slow waiters with your "Oh, terima kasih. Susah-susaaaah aja, ingatkan dah taknak datang dah" or when you pick up fights with irritating security guards like that one in front of Wendy's at PJ One with your "Aku bagi kau tangan kang, macha"; but these are things that make you Abang. I would give anything to make you less impatient, but nothing to trade you for a completely different brother. Can anyone ever top you, an uncle who trains his precious anak-buahs to call him "Sir" and tabik to his attention? Priceless lah. You spoil us all, you really do.


I can stay this way forever, just being that Kid in your eyes. But one day, I know I would have to let go. And until that dreaded day comes, I am contented with just freezing those moments when you tossed me up in the air; when I never doubted, not even for a second, that you would catch me before I fall. Just like AIA the insurance, you are my Amirul Imran Ahmat for my rainy days.

Happy birthday, Abongs!

Acute Impulsive Compulsive Shoppingitis (AICS)

Disclaimer: The author classifies this as a very girly post. If you're one gungho male who just can't deal with too much girliness, be my guest and click on that red button with a cross at the far end of your screen. Be warned that there are some painful pictures of the ugly author, captured with a kodi camera. If you are not ready for such an eyesore, leave once you spot the pictures coming. If you think this is boring, mampus lah, I'm trying to procrastinate here.

Ahoy, so read on at your own risk.

Today is a sad sad day, my friends. Damage is done. Damage so severe that it may warrant a change in lifestyle until next month, at least. Well, to justify myself, I was abducted earlier today. Sumpah tak tipu. Like X-Files alien-type abduction. Sumpah tak tipu lagi.

Okay, okay, there's no point in lying. I lied to you Pops, when I wrote on your FB wall that "I'm just going window shopping, don't fret, don't worry". I will always be that girl who goes out and must carry a plastic bag home. Hands down, I am an impulsive, compulsive, notorious spender. No, not spender like men's underwear, I'm talking about $$$.

You know that feeling when you eat peanuts or kuaci and you just can't stop? Or once you start munching on that keropok, you just want to go on and on and you feel so dejected that at the end of the day, that keropok will have to run out? These symptoms apply to my shoppingitis.

One step into a danger zone like clearance zones at Macy's, Nordstrom Rack, and the forever-having-sales Forever 21 is enough to set the whole disaster into motion. A single purchase from one shop leads to another and another and another. It's a vicious game, this shopping game.

I see "Markdowns" and I go ape. I pass the handbag/purse section, I must stop, eyes glazed, hands itching to just touch, feel, caress them bags. I see "Take additional XX% off" and mutter to myself, "OMG. Murah gila. Must buy must buy". I pick up a designer dress and force myself to buy it because I never know when it's going to get that dirt cheap again. I receive an unexpected, further markdown at the cashier and that propels me to go ahead and buy more stuff since I "saved" on that item. At the end of the day, I deserve it all: Tired arms, aching legs, and a depleting account.

But pooh, it was a beautiful day today; 10C outside, the sun smiling, beautiful people galavanting happily, weaving in and out of buildings, snapping photos, shopping till they drop. Who could blame me? To make peace with myself, I am laying down my justifications:

1. Shoes here are all babi. Yes, they are babi. No, not that babi, but babi as in physically babi. It's hard to find pretty shoes without pig-skin lining. Alas, when you see a perfect one right under your nose, why not? I must think ahead, think of how hard it is to find shoes I really like, and CAN wear. Besides, a girl can never have too many black flats. For the record, I don't have pointed flats yet.
2. The pencil case was just $9, 50% cheaper than its original price of $18. I was patient enough to wait before (I already saw it the last time I went to Macy's), and this is the fruit of my waiting, okay?
3. I am petite, and did you not notice that it's a big/normal person's world like how it's a right-handed person's world, or a man's world (okay, this one can debate later)? Finding clothes that truly compliments my figure is as climactic as reaching climax. Affirmative. Okay, well, I don't know. But it's close, I think.
4. I can use my existing belts with the 2 dresses I bought. They fit like a T.
5. But wait, so I also bought a belt, right? Well, that belt is super awesome lah. Lawa gila, nicer than the ones I have.
6. The blue, light jumper is great for spring, and who can resist a $13.99 jacket?
7. FCUK dresses for $19.90? Hello?
8. I didn't buy a handbag/purse this time. And one handbag/purse usually accrues to maybe 5 of the items I bought today. So, it's a good trade-off.
9. 2 months, that's how long I've not painted the town red. That also means 2 months of being cooped up in my room thanks to the miserable weather and dealing with shitload of work the College tortures its students with. I deserve this.
10. I've got 2 paychecks and my TMobile money to back me up on this. Besides, I forgot I have money in PayPal. That changes things, by a whole lot.
11. I am now relieved of the burden of doing laundry. I'm pretty sure that I can now go on for 2 months without doing my laundry. Cun or not?

Salutations to you, kekasih(s)

Kekasih malam Rabu #3, thank you for appreciating the love we made, albeit just a tenth higher.

Kekasih 10.30am today, you can go die, I hatechew.

Kekasih negara jiran, I can't wait to caress your body. Once you arrive in my mailbox, I'm yours baby. I'm soooo yours, you are soooo mine, and the world is sooo ours.

Bekas kekasih, saya tidak boleh lagi. Harap paham.

Kekasih yang bukan kekasih, busy sign itu just an excuse. Okay, okay, to be honest, I cringe at your "arr"-s and your "larrr"-s. Tidak boleh *shakes head*. Really.

Kekasih yang angkat diri masuk bakul, endearment terms by people I don't know well just don't quite make it to Nj's A-List. Please.

But really, kekasih malam, whylah? Why is it so hard for you to come into my dreams again ah? Cannot just snap my fingers leyh? I try so hard you know. Come lah, come lah. I kacau you in your dreams also good, but I want also lah. Don't jual mahal sangat, can or not?