Well I just had to say it here. I popped my Brazilian cherry yesterday.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
You know you are besties when you can fart and can share your ailing bowel movements. Like how it is with Juju and I.
I knew him when I was put into that hell they called a boarding school, where I was laughed at because I was larger than most (of course) and I mocked because I spoke English (campur-campur also! And not even with American MTV slang OK!) to my mother on the phone and that I do not bother with the kain dalams and chemise because it's too bloody hot.
But that gripe is for another day for another time ye?
Anyway, both Juju and I were in the same English classes - and later, we worked together for the school's English newsletter and we share the same hatred for this other guy in our debate team.
Twenty-one years on, we are still good friends. I don't think we even fought. We argued, sure but never fought.
Anyway, it was during one of our dinners when Juju, looking as if he is in pain and suffering from a bout of really horrible disease, announced that he needs to Fart.
Not just fart. But Fart. The walloping, HUGE, possibly even wet, gross kind.
Alarmed, I shoo-ed him off to the toilets where he can Fart in peace.
He came back, looking pained as ever. He said all he could let go was a measly, tiny "pssstt" type of fart. How disappointing. And frustrating, I imagined.
He shared an anecdote where once he needed to go and rushed to a public toilet at a shopping all to do his deeds and lo and behold, there was a HUGE line waiting for their turn. He said he wasn't sure he needed to apologise for the time he took and the awful lingering smell he left behind. I pity the guy after him.
Anyway, so we were done with dinner and desserts and I told him I needed to go before the long drive home so could he please hold on to the drinks I packed (because I couldn't finish it).
He said OK, but still needs to Fart.
ALAH. OK then hold it high against your head (thankfully, he is a 6 footer) so that your Fart doesn't travel up and contaminate my drink!
(I know, that was sooo clever kan? Teehee).
He gave me the look and shooed me and goes to a quiet corner to Fart.
"REMEMBER! PUT THE DRINK ABOVE YOUR HEAD TINGGI-TINGGI!"
I dont know what the other people thought of us. I didn't care.
I mean, I love him to bits and he's a great friend and all but I'm not about to drink a Fart-infested drink.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
If you were to ask me what am I? A Malay/Malaysian first, I'll say, I'm a Johorean first (second only to being a Muslim, but that's not what I'm trying to get at). But I have just realised, in my 38 years, I've only stayed in Johor for the first 17 years of my life. The rest of the 21 years, I had been largely in KL and some years in the UK.
But I've never considered myself anything other than a Johorean. There's no patriotic angle to this blog post. I don't think I know the roads or the new townships (and there's been a million of them sprouting up after the rain that is the Iskandar Malaysia development). My old school resplendent tree in front of the school has been torn down many years ago. My usual hang outs - the ABC place, the mee rebus place, the nasi goreng cendawan place, the mee hailam and beef steak place ...they've either moved or changed cooks so it doesn't taste the same anymore. I hardly recognise the buildings, the roads, the people and sometimes, even the air seems different.
But deep down, I am a Johorean. Ini tanah tumpah darahku. It was a mere 17 years, but it was the best years of my life. I grew up, lived, cried, fell sick, got heartbroken in Johor first. Would I go back and settle in JB? I don't know. It'll take some coaxing. Because the Johor I know, isn't there anymore.
It's all up here in my head.
Monday, October 01, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Hard Rock Hotel, Penang 2010.
My mother, the Dragon Mother, went off for her cataracts operations. And you know what's worse than a Dragon Mother? A temporarily partially-blind Dragon Mother.
She claims that the house is messy and that it has not been mopped/sweeped enough. She sounded surprised when I cooked the first meal today - Ayam masak kicap berempah and some long beans stir-fry. Surprised that it's edible, I mean.
And let's not start on the "System nak sidai Baju" which includes, amongst others: colour-coordinated, ikut tone i.e. you don't place greens with reds because they clash. You've got to go from red to browns to yellows to...you get the idea. Then they must be in the same categories - underthings with other underthings. Kain pelikats with other kain pelikats.
Oh, it shouldn't be dripping wet. Must wring and squeeze ALLLLLL the water out, then shake/flick/kibas it really heard and GOD FORBID if the ends of the kain or baju beropol-ropol. It has to be almost smooth so that when you fold them later, it'll be easy.
I must've missed some steps - like performing witch chants and check temperature or wind power and directions or summat.
But no no no don't get me wrong. I do love me mom. If only she doesn't check the floors too often. Hehe.
Posted by Leen AshBurn at 17:33
Monday, September 24, 2012
Angkor Wat at Sunrise. 2007.
I realised that I turned boring.
I had an excuse - for the past two years or so, I had been busy trying to not fail my MBA because I forked out my own money for it. But that was up to early this year since then, I have been pretty much...dormant. I justified it by claiming that I needed a rest after all that sleepless night.
But it is nearing to October. I am getting bored. When people ask me what I do nowadays, I mostly just shrug and have a hard time trying to recall that last time I watched a movie/gig/teathre production/just hang out. Apart from the occasional dinner with Nooners and Le Toots, I haven't been up to much.
Oh wow, I am seriously turning boring.
OK, time to change that. We start, by hiding all old, boring posts. Then we move on, kan?
Posted by Leen AshBurn at 18:01