Sleepyhead In Surrey

tomorrow. Happy Birthday Chubby Chubs!

Posted in: on February 18, 2005 at at 12:30:00 AM 0 comments

I started very late my training in domestic skills. As the last child, mak never trusted me to do things in the kitchen, or anywhere in the house for that matter, pertaining to that of a domestic manner. During my childhood, mak would shoo me away from the kitchen whenever I asked to join the womenfolk (mak and my two older sisters) doing the cooking. Occasionally, I would be given the chance by my sisters to do the dishes (trust them to give me their dirty work!). Only when I was fast approaching adolescence did mak give me a few necessary pointers like how to cook rice, fry eggs, and cook a few basic dishes.

I do know a little more than I used to these days. Not wanting to subsist on bread and butter while I was studying abroad did help somewhat to my increased knowledge (however minimal it is) in this area. But nothing has prepared me for today. While waiting for my abah to finish his appointment at the doctor’s mak gave me an assignment. I was to buy fresh produce from the little wet market in Cenderawasih. Even from the get go, I was nervous.

I made a mental note: half a chicken, aubergines, potatoes, plus some additional vegetables up to my liking. That did not help much. I liked fresh button mushrooms, broccoli, cabbages and cauliflower. All the vegetables that have been listed as a no-no by abah’s doctor. Banyak angin, he said. How do I choose the chicken? The plump one? The one with lots of skin on it? The botak one?

Got to the market fine. But the owner looked at me funny. Must have been the wild-eyed look I had on. There were no helpers. Everyone went on their jolly way and proceeded to the counter to pay. Guess that’s what I’ll do. Aubergines, ahh there you are. Poke, poke, poke. All of them looked dead. They don’t look this limp at the Student Union back in Guildford. I managed to grab a couple of them that looked half decent; plump and no bumps on. Next, potatoes. This one’s easy. Grab a bag, choose the ones that didn’t look like aliens were growing on them and put into bag. Now the “additional vegetables” part. The only mushrooms available were shitake. Scratch that one. Remembered mak mentioning sawi minyak once and proceeded to look for anything that looked half like sawi. There were all sorts of them. Small, short ones. Long and leafy with golden flowers. Which one was with minyak? I just grabbed the ones with the flowers because they look the most fresh. Proceeded to grab a few packets of baby corns and a couple of carrots and pronounced to myself that I was done.

Now on to the poultry section. I half expected that since this is a wet market there would be cages lining the walls filled with live chickens. At least that’s what I remembered when I went to Pasar Besar Kuantan. No chicken in sight. There was no frozen section either. I was roaming around aimlessly hoping to hear chicken sounds that would clue me in on its whereabouts. Luckily, a pakcik stopped me.

With hands and legs akimbo he said, “Ha kelam kabut macam ni. Mau apa?”. Eheh. “Ayam ada ka pakcik?”. I followed him to a counter and hey presto! He pulled out one whole chicken from a container filled with ice. So that’s where they’ve been hiding. From my conversation, or at least his questioning and me nodding, I managed to decide how much I wanted the chicken (half, whole, quarter), whether I wanted it cut into 8, 12, or 24 pieces and whether I wanted the skin off or not. Previously, I only knew to order to the guy at Atiff’s store in Woking : “10 pounds money (that means 5 pounds in weight) chicken, cut into small pieces, skin off”. Even earlier than that, I knew how to grab the plumpest chicken breast from the frozen food section at Tesco Puchong.

Waiting for the pakcik to pack the chicken, I grabbed the newspaper at the nearby stand and proceeded to the counter. One lady asked what I was buying. I must have had the wild-eyed look a second time today because I didn’t know who she was. My mind went blank and I was speechless. Lifted the paper and pointed it to her. I was about to get into the car when I saw the lady again. Next to her Atos. Now I know who she is. One of my mak’s students. That’s great. I could not recognize her face but I could recognize her car. Next time I see a person I’ll ask "Ho hum I’m Sleepyhead. And what do you drive?". Come to think of it, I could have said to her, "Oh makcik so-and-so, I'm shopping for vegetables and chicken for my mak. So rajin a daughter that I am. Next thing I know my mak would probably let me skin the chicken when I get home and later on maybe even cook a decent finger licking dish out of all that I bought today!"

The term tak lepas laku suddenly comes to mind. I remember mak always mentions this to me if she deemed my behaviour unsuitable for a lady or for a girl-lady-person. Unladylike-lah! Tak semenggah, if you will. Unmarketable and unsellable to potential future in-laws and future besans. Come to think of it, my whole behaviour this morning was tak lepas laku. If I wasn’t already attached, I would have blown my chances of impressing a potential mother-in-law. (Yes, later on mak told me that the lady has a cute looking son). With my lack of wet-market skills and my speechlessness, I was simply unmarketable in all sense of the word.

On another unrelated note, Dina Zaman's Gongkapas Times in no more. How will I survive my mornings?

Posted in: on February 16, 2005 at at 12:39:00 PM 0 comments

I had dinner with my sweetie
At his home the other night
I knew he’d make a special treat
At least I hoped he might

He set out all the crockery fine
With his best linen pressed
Silver knives and forks and spoons
I really was impressed

I said “What’s for dinner honey?”
He flashed a cheeky smile
And replied “I know you’ll love it
It’ll be ready in just a while”

Well I got a little suspicious
For I noticed that no smell
Was coming from his kitchen
And no food was there as well

Nothing cooking on the stove
No sign of chicken nor fish
And he knew fettucine marinara
Was my favourite dish

The stereo played slow love songs
The candles were aglow
He certainly was cooking something up
But what? I did not know

As he led me away from the kitchen
My hopes began to crumble
When he took me to the main bedroom
I heard my tummy rumble

He set me down upon the bed
And then to my surprise
He grabbed a blood red silken tie
And wrapped it round my eyes

I started feeling worried
This was not his normal behaviour
What could be for dinner here
And what could I find to savour?

I could hear him rustling round a bit
What was taking him so long
I’d known him over five years now
But could I have judged him wrong?

Did he have a darker side?
Was he into kinky stuff?
Well everything here seemed OK
I knew I just had to trust

Then I felt his hand so gentle
As he slowly released my blindfold
I opened my eyes and before me
Was such a sight to behold

He had totally turned his body
From his crown to his toenail tip
Into a savoury sensation
And in his hand... a packet of chips

Well, I could not hold back the laughter
I was rolling about in a fit
Then he held out the packet and said,
So solemn...”Would you like a dip?”

After removing the hair from the pate
To my delight it tasted divine
And he kept a supply of japanese crackers
Propped up ‘tween his toes in a line

Well I tried the cream cheese on his fingers
His belly button mushrooms were yum
But I kept coming back for my favourite
The salsa smeared on his buns

He’d gone to a lot of trouble
To find all my favourite things
I especially liked the arrangement
Of the cheezles and onion rings

I shared all the treats with my baby
Towards the end I was starting to slow
He gave me a wink and suggested
I finish off with a big oreo

Needless to say...
There were no further courses
We sent out for pizza instead
After sweetie had showered we ate it
Propped up in our crumb filled bed

Now our relationship’s taken on new meaning
As we share in our new found delight
In fact I’ve invited my honey
For dessert round at my place tonight!

By Arcadia Flynn

Posted in: on February 14, 2005 at at 6:52:00 PM 0 comments

• I got me a new hobby.
• My strategy is to start out with a spin on the 10, and finish off with a straight-up with an 8.
• 103 is not such a bad number for a beginner, is it Joe?
• No, muttering "That #$%^ is sial" is not gonna rattle my confidence and concentration. You have such a pretty face and a nice form. Do not spoil it by opening your mouth.

Posted in: on February 11, 2005 at at 10:45:00 AM 0 comments

When I was just a teenager, when any of my friends or teachers asked me where I live or asked me to write my address I would do so reluctantly. I felt shameful; like an outcast. Why, u ask? Because of where I live. I consider my address a private matter simply because I consider its name indecent. So what is the repulsive name? Bukit Setongkol. Whenever I mention it I’m sure to get the obligatory sneer or two. The bold ones would ask "Eh, setongkol je bukit tu? Bukan dua tongkol?" coupled with an evil and/or sleazy laugh. And I would shudder and make myself nonexistent.

When we first moved here my mak said that Bukit Setongkol used to be all jungles and no civilization. "Tempat jin bertendang ni dulu", she would say (kenapa bertendang? bukan tidur ke dating ke). On the way to our house, there is one plot of land that houses a chinese cemetery. That was the only piece of highland I could see. Memang macam setongkol jer bukit tu. Jirat cina, they call it. I guess that is the culprit that has warranted this place its name. The cemetery has long been the center of a few dozen ghost stories enhancing Bukit Setongkol's bad repute.

Near the cemetery is a small pottery factory churning out plant pots of all shapes and sizes. A few minutes' car ride would take us to a grocery shop that turns into a kueh stall by late afternoon. The shop is connected to an adjoining house, the owner’s obviously. Especially during ramadhan, dozens of cars would stop by and buy the kueh as well as some grocery. Across the shop is a small surau. Every Thursday, a Quran recital class is held for the local womenfolk. My mak has been the guest teacher a few times. Beside the surau is the Tok Penghulu's house, Pak Cik Yem's his name short for Karim. He used to own the Teruntum Bakery in town. Just ahead, there is a stall selling kuih bahulu. The bahulu are cooked at the stall itself and if you’re early you could watch it being cooked and then immediately buy the freshly cooked bahulu. The owner's name is Mak Cik Kiah and every afternoon Mak Cik Kiah's mother would sit in one corner, regaling stories of times passed. I don’t know her name but Mak Cik Kiah said that her mother is partially blind. Yet, she manages to recognize the voices of regular customers. If my mother visits she would yell my mother's name from afar and jovially ask about my grandmother, an old friend of hers.

In the 90's a chain of supermarkets called Tunas Manja was slowly creeping up into every neighborhood, Bukit Setongkol included. Our local Tunas Manja was situated in a row of shop houses next to the Shell petrol station. In the beginning, that was the second shophouses available in Bukit Setongkol, after the one in Cenderawasih. Next to Tunas Manja is a photo processing shop, a cyber café and a clinic. There is also a restaurant aptly named Restoran Nasi Lemak. I’m sure u know its specialty by now. Across from Tunas Manja, a new row of shophouses has been built housing a car tyre servicing shop, a furniture shop, another clinic and a few others which I fail to remember just now. The residence area near Tunas Manja is called Taman LKNP. This is where our old house is and it is now occupied by my soon-to-be-married brother. My abah's best friend, Haji Mat also lives here. He used to be in the army as a cook and now visits us everyday to give us different dishes like soto ayam, lontong, mi kari or mi bandung.

Now, you could call Cenderawasih a small town. It is situated right at the edge of Bukit Setongkol near the border of Indera Mahkota and Tanah Putih. Rows after rows of residences have been built which contributed to the rising number of its population. A large mosque with gold domes and turrets has also been recently built. This is where the local residents usually perform the solat aidilfitri or aiduladha. The field adjacent to the mosque is where you could watch teenage boys spend their evening chasing around a ball. In one of the houses in front of the field, there is a local bridal shop. Abang Mie runs the shop. You could only visit the shop by appointment as all of its staff are usually busy. "Kitorang semua ada operasi hari ni." Abang Mie would say sometimes. By operasi he means out about town making up a particular bride’s face so that she looks immaculate on the day of her wedding. The bridal collection is pretty decent. Plus, you could pic n mix the bridal packages that are offered.

Just at the entrance to Cenderawasih there is a tomyam stall and an ayam golek stall. These stalls operate from late afternoon till midnight. They are rarely empty. Around there somewhere is also the large house of the local businessman. He owns a few logging companies and a few petrol stations. He is married to the sister of the Sultan of Pahang. I had the opportunity to visit the house a few times as his daughter was a good friend of mine. Nadia is now married and working as an Interior Designer in KL.

Now, when I talk to a couple of friends and tell them I live in Bukit Setongkol there is no more jeers or sneers. They seem to be familiar with Bukit Setongkol. One still remembers the yummy roti canai shop (pakai marjerin bukan butter) at the edge of Bukit Setongkol, at the junction of Jalan Haji Joned and Jalan Wong Ah Jang. The other used to organize a student union election here and remembers the government quarters lining the main road. It is not so bad, living here. I don’t get embarrassed anymore. I could live at home without ever going out to the town for about two weeks. Why should I? Everything I need is here. The good company like my friends and family. The local grocery shops that cater to all my needs. The petrol for my car to shuttle between home and Cenderawasih. It’s all good.

Posted in: on February 10, 2005 at at 7:17:00 PM 0 comments

It was late evening. We were fishing out the last remnants of the tauhu bakar special (RM 3.50 with dried sotong). Out of nowhere came this deep buzzing sound gaining the attention of all the patrons of the row of food stalls. Slowly but surely 3 big bikers passed by and stopped right smack behind where we were sitting. One was Honda CBR, the other Yamaha whose model I forgot and yet the other one (model unknown). The proud riders of these big bikes were trying to find parking space for their glamorous bikes and without giving it much thought announced that the best place to park his bike was right behind my fiancé. They proceeded to do just that, with one rider not forgetting to ram his engine sending off fumes and heat to my fiancé's head, lest no one in the vicinity of the whole neighbourhood notices his BIG and oh-so-gempak bike. Little did I know that while the rude rider did this, my fiancé, nursing his wounded soul and his teh tarik gelas besar silently cursed the rider under his breath.

The riders, after parking their bikes with glee, stood around waiting for an empty table to surface. It seemed suddenly that everyone was eating very slowly and politely and managed to find just one more crumb under the banana leaf to nibble on. No one was leaving their table. The riders, getting anxious by the minute, enhanced their presence by laughing loudly with each other. That's right, the oh-look-at-us-big-bikers laugh. It seems that their antics were in vain since not one table was left empty. Frustrated, the leader of the pack decided to find another place to show off their big guns.

First one, then the other started to leave. There was only one rider left - the one exactly behind my fiancé. Just as his friends passed by him and thereby leaving him, he started his engine. Click. No sound. Another click. Still no sound. His shoulders slumped a little and his neck was bowed down. Third click and it was certain. His batteries ran out. All this while I've watched his antics and the laughter is just bubbling inside my chest. This rider took off his helmet again and proceeded to disappear. After finally failing to find another bit of nutty chilly sauce, we decided to call it a night. As we were walking towards the car, we found a slightly amusing surprise. The rider was hunched up against a phone booth obviously trying to call his friends to come back and help him with his bike!

Moral of the story Versi Baik:
Baik beli battery handphone daripada beli motor besar. Kalau takder tempat nak makan pon boleh lagi pakai handphone untuk call delivery.

Moral of the story Versi Kurang Baik:
Padan muka hang!

Posted in: on at at 6:24:00 AM 0 comments

I panic a lot. And quickly. Ever since I was a kid I can't help feeling nervous when I encounter a new thing or anticipate a new event, good or bad. My hands feel all clammy and sweaty. My stomach feels like some lost butterfly is inside trying to get out and tickling me pink. It it gets too bad, I get cramps and sometimes feel like either peeing or pooping.

I'm afraid this will affect me. When I get nervous I forget what I was thinking or was trying to articulate. It's not always bad for me, though. When I was in the story telling competition, and later on the debate team this clammy nervousness has often helped me. I get so cranked up that I practice constantly to get the panic attacks out of my mind. The minute I stepped up to the stage everything inside my head just vanished. I get this fuzzy feeling of tranquility. I might not remember my speech, but no matter, cuz it has been transported to my mouth. It's like a motor reflex. I just managed to articulate whatever it is that I had practised. Then it ends, I just get all warm inside. Then it hit me - why did I go to all the trouble getting all nervous?

The panic attacks are coming to me now. But this time it's different. It comes with just slightest feeling of uncertainty. I am now unsure of myself. Will I come out of this alive or will it just eat me all up and leave me an empty skull. I wonder what tomorrow brings....

Posted in: on February 07, 2005 at at 2:22:00 PM 0 comments

to a much much later date. Possibly never at all. Maybe I should consider cohabitation and the hell that is guaranteed to come with it.

Posted in: on February 03, 2005 at at 4:26:00 PM 0 comments

Guess who finally has a Gmail account? *grins*
For 1GB email accounts go here and here.

Posted in: on February 02, 2005 at at 5:22:00 PM 0 comments

Posted in: on at at 5:57:00 AM 0 comments

What happens when your seemingly normal everyday life might be rendered askew with the thoughts of just a few months to live?
Damn, the mosquitoes are overly active this week.
Happy Holiday KL-ites.

Posted in: on February 01, 2005 at at 2:15:00 AM 0 comments