Dear Tiger

It's good to have friends who are concerned about your well being. I find comfort in most of these friends and especially if they're women. Some will go at lengths to ensure that you leave the pub sober and calls you half an hour later to make sure you're at home and safe. They are yet some, who ensure that you're up before 8:00am on Sundays just so you get to church on time. These ones I'm not very fond of. For reasons unknown, some even pretend to be you and write interesting letters like this one here and send it to you to get attention.

I got this in my mail today from a concerned friend of mine. She was with me at the pub few nights ago and having heard of my relationship with Tiger, she wanted to see if all the hype was true.

She found out. And she tells me she's traumatize now. I think she wants to help. She sent me this letter.

Dear Tiger,

Before I go on, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. My friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work beer and you're even around when I'm stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.

However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences. Consider the followings :-

1. Phone calls : While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those girlfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating : Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you always suggest that I eat a bowl of kueh chap, along with extra pork innards on the side and washed down with three layer teh c peng? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far the other night. The chicken feet and curried cuttle fish was not necessary. The mix didn't look nice in the toilet bowl.

3. Clumsiness : Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to take up yoga to improve my balance, I see no need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down every time I reach for the door. It's completely unnecessary, and the bruises that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 15 seconds to decide on which hotel floor to stop and another 25 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Furthermore : The hangovers have got to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3:00pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, panadol) prior to going to passing out face down on sofa, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Tiger, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Friday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions and hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,

Demented, your biggest fan yet.

Thanks Janice for this letter. This touched me where it mattered moist. I mean, most.

Work Activities

I was at a clients office yesterday afternoon when I saw a group of hopeful looking young men and women sitting at the lounge area. "Interviews", said the receptionist. I remember handling a few potential job applicants last year and almost always just after the formalities, they look around the office and this question is asked "Are the people here nice to work with?"

I tell them, the people I work with are absolutely nuts.

I've worked in enough offices to know that every office place in my state believes that it has the most interesting /colorful /wacky mix of people you've ever met. I remember within the first week of a job, someone inevitably says to me - "As you can see - we have a really interesting group of folks" or "This might be the craziest group of people you've ever worked with" - or some other words to that affect.

I will often retort - "Please, you should meet my kin." (Picture it as I throw my head back and chuckle softly, most likely with coffee cup in hand, to really get a grasp on the sincerity of the sentiment.)

Whoever I'm talking to usually gives a laugh back, because ooooh, lordy... don't we all know the wackiness of family? Of course, I actually mean - "Please - you really should meet my family" sans laugh.

Because your silly office antics aren't going to faze me.

Don't even fucking try.

On other front, I was at a watering hole last night as usual. I swear, I might be the only person on earth who can do the following:-

1) Determine an activity is really lame and a waste of time

2) Proceed to do said activity for six straight hours

This is what happened. I was tired and after hanging my tools down at the salt mine, I decided an activity would do me good. Of the fermented malted barley, yeast and hop kind. But for a moment I thought against this option because beer had been an active part of my life for the past few nights. That I had nine beers too many and that I needed to rest and detox.

Needless to say, I left the watering hole at 1:05am...this morning.

Oh, you have a good trip home, babe. That was nice. And thanks.

Have Wind?

I have this condition. That every time I think of a song, regardless of which, this song starts to play in my head. It just happens. Its annoying. It makes me think that I could have a condition. The mental kind. Its been years now. When it starts, I start humming it. And it stays. For the whole day. I have something like that Ikea advert you hear on the radio.

Try this with the flute.

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man?

And how many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand?

And how many times must the cannon balls fly

Before they're forever banned?

How many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

And how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry?

And how many deaths will it take till he knows

That too many people have died?

How many years can a mountain exist

Before its washed to the sea?

And how many years can some people exist

Before they're allowed to be free?

And how many times can a man turn his head,

Pretending he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind,

The answer is blowing in the wind.

Thanks Bob. For putting this song in my head.

Baked and Feeling Gay

The past week has been busy. I went to two wedding dinners which reminds me that there is another one to go to this Wednesday. At this rate, I'll be flat broke before the end of the month. What with the monetory obligations that comes with the invitations and all that. Thats like a hundred bucks per sitting. But thats okay, wedding dinners are...nice. Also quite pleasing was something I did on the weekend besides the banana cake I baked last Sunday which turned out to be my best yet. I know, I know. This is sissy and gay and shit but there is this feminine side of me that seems to manifest itself once in a while. So, if you're into baking, here's the ingredients (secretly guarded until now) :-

1. 150gm brown sugar

2. 5 eggs

3. Butter

4. 230gm plain flour

5. 1 table spoon cinnamon powder

6. A bit of salt

7. 1 tble/spoon baking soda

8. 1 cup plain yogurt

9. Walnuts / mixed nuts / oats

10. 5 bananas - mashed

11. 1 capfull of Vanilla essence

12. 2 packs Label 5 - must

Mix 1, 2 and 3 in an electric mixer. Be sure to add in the eggs one at a time for consistency. In a bowl, mix 4, 5, 6, and 7. Fold in to mixer. Add 8, 9 and 10. Wait. Add 11 and 12. Bake at 180 degrees centigrade for 45mins. Enjoy.

I went to hang with some friends at their house and ended up jamming the whole night. Right now, the fingers on my left hand are killing me. I've haven't played guitar that long for a long, long time.

As per usual with our impromptu acoustic jams, a lot of the songs come from school days. Stuff like Deep Purple, Eagles, Smokie, Scorpion and a whole lot of other rock bands from that time. Lots of mid nineties music too, like Gin Blossoms. And of course, some old school Malay rock ballads. They don't write stuff like that anymore.

I would like to do this a lot more often, if I can. Music is such a relief.

Another interesting thing happened that night. I received a call from someone whom I used to fancy quite a bit in my hey days. Apparently she's bored and unemployed and wants to hang out.

I've decided not to. I didn't tell her that though. It would be awkward and quite possibly end up dredging up very, very, very painful memories. Of the sexual kind. I guess it's my turn to do something other women have done with me. I'm going to play the drifting away game. I feel bad about it, really. In the past, I used to believe that I was "better" than that and above rejecting others. I guess I'm not that high up.

Idealism is so annoying in it's naivete isn't it?

A Pair Of Old Sneakers

She is a pair of old sneakers
A holey pair of jeans
She looks good in cheap sunglasses
She looks beautiful in anything
She is I want a piece of chocolate
Take me to a movie
She is I can't find a thing to wear
Now and then she's moody
She is a four wheeler with a sunroof
With her long hair a-blowing
She is a soft place to settle
And a good feeling knowing
She is a warm audition
That I would not miss for nothing
She is a fighter when she's angry
And she is a lover when she's loving
She is a Saturday out on the town
And a church girl on Sunday
She is a cross around her neck
And a swear word because its Monday
She is a one glass of beer
And she is feeling a little tipsy
....And nothing else matters because she's everything.

Tagged???

I received a call from a mutual friend last weekend to ask if I knew that I had been 'tagged'. That I was 'it' and so forth. I didn't immediately answer her and was waiting for her to do the 'Borat' thing and say 'Nhhhaaaat!' but that didn't happen so I asked her what she meant. It was after eleven minutes of her explaining and 7 minutes of laughing on my part that I got a grasp on the meaning of this 'tagging' thing.

I'm suppose to write 6 weird things about myself because I was 'tagged'. And because this game (I was informed that it is in fact a kind of game) is so daunting, it took me two full days just to examine myself to find if there are any flaws on this being. To check if God made a mistake. I only found one. Unless you think my addiction to Japanese porn is but I know some people would fiercely beg to differ. Here is a weird thing...

1. I drink lots of beer. Tiger beer.

I am also suppose to tag some other people so I tag you, you and you.

I like.

Stella, Eric, Bajik Sundal And Lachau

Subject : The spoils from yesterday's road trip

Location : Balairingin

Beer Count : 6 cans per pax...because of Stella

I ventured away from the office environment yesterday to embark on a long road trip - Gedong, Simanggang, Betong, Nanga Geraji and Balairingin. Mostly work related. I took my kanid Kelvin with me and on trips such as these, there is always something new to discover. For instance, we now know where Eric and Bajik Sundal lives. Eric lives in a village not far from Simanggang while Bajik Sundal hails from the district of Betong. And both persons had their names proudly spray painted on bus stop sheds for all and sundry to see. Their names has been there for the longest time that I can remember. I have on a few occasions drove the Kuching - Betong stretch since four years ago and the names are still at these two bus stop sheds to this day. Eric and Bajik must really want people to know where they live. We did not stop to unravel this mystery and find out if these two actually exist but I hope they live good lives and have many children if they do.

And who doesn't know this quaint little bazaar just before Bukit Bangunan if one travels the Kuching - Simanggang road. I'm talking about Lachau bazaar. Lacahu serves as the best place to do a pit stop before continuing the long journey towards Simanggang and beyond. Lachau, if you didn't know yet, is a predominantly Iban area. Kelvin informed me that the word Lachau is in fact derived from the name of a lizard common to the place. You won't miss the concrete carving of the same as you enter the junction into the bazaar.

But consider this :-

1. One Iban boy to another on their lizards catch. "Apuuuuu....amat besai lanchau nuan tu. Panjai agik nyak".

2. Heard at the dinner table in Lachau not so very long ago. "Hmmmm, nyamai endar lanchau tuk neh".

3. Kid daughter to his dad as they drive into Lachau bazaar- "Daddy. Look. LANCHAU!!!".

But really, please be courteous and ensure that when in Lachau you pronounce the name correctly. And if not for its famous lizards, Lachau bazaar is probably best known for its 'mee basah'. Arguably the best on this side of the island.

On our journey back, we stopped at a roadhouse cum petrol kiosk cum injin padi operator in Balairingin still pondering on Eric and Bajik Sundal existence while accompanied by a few Stella's. A few Iban boys, shirtless and tattooed smiled and left us to our own. They revved their old motorcycles after filling up at the makeshift petrol kiosk, ocassionally stealing glances at our direction perhaps wondering what we were doing in their backyard. The roadhouse Chinese lady boss was busy. She was noisily cooking in the kitchen and the fragrance of strong sweet smell of belachan made me hungry. While drinking to the sound of tut-tutting of the injin padi in the back ground, a man driving an old beat up Landrover crashed into a concrete telephone pole near us, breaking it and no one made much of a fuss. The driver was fine.

We continued our drinking.

Is very nice.