Confessions of a City Slicker

This post is dedicated to the one love of my live, my precious Baby Darling.

31 August is the nation’s Merdeka but to me, it’s Baby’s birthday.  I celebrate my Independence Day on the 4th of July anyway :p

This year would have been Baby’s 10th birthday if she were still alive.

I can’t believe how much I still miss her after all this time.  Life was so much more beautiful when she was around.  I had a good reason to wake up in the mornings and home was so much more welcoming.

I still leave her side of the bed empty.  Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night and see the empty spot, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss that she’s not going to be sleeping there any more.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DARLING!!!!!

Well, it’s that time of the year again.  Actually I didn’t realize it’s here again until I saw the leftover joss sticks and candles on the roadside and my mom folding those prayer papers.

Yes people, it’s Hungry Ghost Festival again.  A time when the gates of Hell open to let out the many, well, hungry ghosts, to feed.  Virgins are adviced to stay indoors after the sun sets while Chinese Opera and live concerts pop up in every district.

People will be well adviced to be extra careful in the things they say and do during this time at the risk of annoying the "Good Brothers".  Unspeakable things have been known to befall those who pay no heed to this advice, so beware…..

The festival will last for about a month (1 think) but prayer sessions last for 3 days at different times of the month for different districts.  Again, I am only guessing :p

During my childhood days the efigy of "Phor Thor Kong", a rather formidable and scary figure is erected at each district, but because it scares the kids (and because it’s cheaper), some districts replace the efigy with just the name of the deity written on a red background.

Well, it’s only fitting during this time that people share spooky tales, be it their own personal close encounters or some story they heard from a friend of a friend of a friend.

Well, this I heard from an ex colleague.

Auntie K lives in Kulim.  There is a cemetery up the road from her house.  At the stroke of midnight during the start of every Hungry Ghost Festival you can feel an eerie wind blow from the direction of the cemetery followed by loud cheering and sounds of a big crowd rushing down the road.

If you have worked with me in the factory before, the sound is not unlike the ruckus during lunch break.  You know what it’s like.  With limited time and food, all of us want to make sure that we reach  the cafeteria as early as possible.

Looks like hungry ghosts, whether dead or living are everywhere

Anyone else has any spooky stories to share?

This afternoon I finally got my discharge letter from the bank for my daughter (that’s my cute little car, for those not in the know).  At last, 1 less financial obligation every month.

Has it really been 5 years?  I think my daughter looks older than that (blush).  Granted I’m not really good at taking care of her.  How many wax and polish sessions has she had so far?  I believe that can be counted with the fingers of one hand.  Washes per month?  Ummm…… only when I can remember, which is usually when the car wash has closed for the day.  Most of the time when I pass one that is operating, I’m in a hurry to get somewhere.

It wasn’t an easy process, this last leg of paying off my loan.  Can’t believe they made me go all the way downtown to settle my last payment over the counter.  WTF is the convenience of your internet banking for then, pray tell.  Fighting traffic, problems finding parking, then I had to go through it all over again the next day because they can’t give me the discharge letter on the same day. Grrrrr…..

Hey, wait a minute…….is this the same girl talking from a few months back?  I used to insist on finding work downtown because for some insane reason, I love fighting traffic on the way to work.  It never fails to get my blood pumping.  I’ve only been working here for like a month and already I’m complaining.

I still go to the gym in the evenings, but the jam is much considerably less compared to the mornings.  Sheesh, I’m losing my edge.  Too pampered working so close to home

Well, now that my daughter is fully mine, I can concentrate on paying off my credit card.  Hopefully it won’t be long, if I stick to the plan.

I have been using Pelikan stationery since I started schooling, but never realized that the word is "Pelican" loosely translated into Malay until I saw its trademark - that of a Pelican - on TV recently. Ha ha!

Big Boy - named literally because of his size - he’s HUGE!!!!!  About the size of a St Bernard, I think.

Big Boy was a stray who hangs around my mom’s office.  One day he was taken away by the pound.  Mom bailed him out and took him to our home.  Her plan was to keep him in our apartment during the weekends because that’s when the pound people make their rounds then take him back to his old neighborhood during the week days.

OK, sounds good to me, except that mom had him tied up at the fire escape all the time because he sheds too much fur in the apartment.  Come on, you can’t have a dog in the house and not have fur.  It’s part and package of having a dog.  So she rescued him from being put down but then keep him tied up all the time.  What kind of life is that?

If you’re having images of a big dog tearing up an apartment ala Beethoven (the St Bernard movie), you’d be surprised at what a good dog Big Boy is.  I have never seen a dog his size with such a sweet temperament.  Sure he wanted to explore every nook and cranny of his new environment, but did he go tearing into the place?  Nope, I would say he more or less "ambled" about the place sniffing here and there.  Other than that, he mostly went about his business.

He ignored me most of the time, at first, but once he got to know me, he was so playful.  His biggest charm was shaking hands.  Oh yeah, those soft brown eyes that looks contentedly back at you when you stroke and pat him will melt any heart ^_^

I snuck him into my room to sleep on Saturday night, or should I say, Sunday morning because I couldn’t bear to see him being tied up like that.  Of course I did not let him get on the bed.  That is still pretty much Baby’s territory as far as I’m concerned.  Well, he did try to jump up the bed but I was sort of in the way.  He landed on my chest and man, I could’ve sworn my ribs broke.  Ouch!

Big Boy spent the whole weekend with us.  Come Monday, he got his lucky break.  A customer of my mom’s company saw Big Boy and was taken to him immediately.  Big Boy’s "shake hands" trick did it I guess.

Now Big Boy lives in a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a big compound to run about.

Goodbye, Big Boy!  I barely knew you, but I’m glad you got your happy ending.

It had to happen sometime, right?  We don’t expect to go clubbing and not experience it at least once.  Last weekend was my first in my decade plus clubbing experience.

We were enjoying ourselves dancing, drinking and just having a blast hanging out with friends when the lights came on, the music stopped and the DJ asked us to calm down.  Then this mata-mata introduced himself and asked for the girls to go to one side of the room and the guys the other side.  There was a long wait as the club management and the mata-mata stepped outside for a little negotiation.

To make a long story short, they finally let us out.  At least, they started to let the guys out first after making a “show” of verifying their IDs.  Obviously the term “women and children first” was not the order of the day.  It was only later that they let the girls out.  Later I learnt that the first batch that were let out went straight up the big car to be transported to the big house to spend the night.

Saw Awie there.  Sheesh, the guy sure has deteriorated since his divorce with his long bleached hair tied up in a pony tail ala……what’s the name of that VJ guy on TV?  The one with the dreadlocks?  Hehehe can’t remember lah.  I believe his name starts with a "D" or an "R".  While we were waiting outside for the rest of our friends to come out, a second big car came along to transport more “lucky” souls to the big house.  Since Awie’s entourage was part of that group, I believe he had to fork out some moolah to secure their release.

A friend of mine had a far less pleasant experience.  That time, they didn’t even bother to check for ID on the spot.  Just rounded everyone up to the big house where they spent the night.  We were lucky the let us walk out the door without much trouble.  Sure am glad I didn’t have to start my Sunday peeing in front of 50 other women or get my parents to come bail me out of jail.  Still, the whole fiasco felt like a total waste of my time.  The stern mata-mata standing guard at the door didn’t even bother to glance at my ID when I waved it in front of him.  Come on, why bother conducting a raid when you don’t even do a proper job at it?

So my mom finally bought one of those steam irons said to be more user friendly. 

With a conventional iron

• I spend a little under an hour to iron 1 work shirt
• I burn my hand occassionally when I don’t look before I pick it up
• I burn my shirts occassionally (no holes yet, just unsightly brown spots)
• I get aching calves from standing too long over my ironing load (note to self: schedule weekly ironing sessions, even if it’s just 1 shirt)

With a steam iron

• I spend nearly an hour just to "kau tim" 1 shirt which I eventually had to "kau tim" with a conventional iron because the steam iron just doesn’t measure up
• I burned my hand and feet too due to the hot water droplets that leaked out from the iron occassionally
• I didn’t burn my shirt with the steam iron but heck, please refer to the first point above to see why I ditched it before I even finished ironing 1 shirt
• I get an aching arm from holding the iron up to my shirt to clear up a wrinkle that never goes away

No prizes for guessing which iron I will be using from now on.