While-ing the hours away

Well, not really. I have two deadlines tomorrow but I can't think of anything property-related, which really doesn't augur well for me since I've been told that ALL my bosses have read this blog. Wise men would probably advise me to stop putting incriminating actions down in ink, and they'll be 100% right.

I mean, the day I get fired, my boss'll ask me into his room, and I'll find myself facing a mountain of blog posts detailing my flagrant abuse of office resources, all printed out from our super-cool Minolta printer. No words will be needed. I will quietly slink away with my stuff and a potted plant (not that I have one now) in those brown cardboard boxes like they do in HK serial dramas.

Why does this post exist then? It's widely known I'm not terribly bright, so blehh.

Anyway, instead of working like a productive little citizen, I came up with a brand spanking new slogan for MCA.

MCA
MOAR Backbone!!11!
Sheesh.

PS: Because I am lazy, I have not inserted any links to the MCA's General Assembly 2007, or Ong Ka Ting, or Wee Meng Chee, or Nazri, or Badawi. Google is your friend.

Don't tell your kids to "Shut up and eat your food!"

Via Bernama, Zainuddin Proposes Classification Of Web Bloggers
"We have to control this. It is feared that these (blog sites) will be misused by those who have an agenda to spread slander. By right, there should be a mechanism to control this phenomenon, including by classifying web bloggers as professionals and non-professionals," he said.

Via The Star, Zam: Few people read blogs
Political web blogs have a very small following of about 20,000 people, Information Minister Datuk Seri Zainuddin Maidin said.

“Only that number out of the 11 million Internet users in the country are actively involved in political blogs. The political bloggers just write for each other to read; they are not a threat,” he added.

Via Malaysia-Today, (cos mainstream media links have expired QQ) Bloggers see red over tourism chief's 'insults'
Tourism Mnister Tengku Adnan allegedly quoted saying,

'All bloggers are liars. They cheat people using all kinds of methods. From my understanding, out of 10,000 unemployed bloggers, 8,000 are women.'

He apparently also said: 'Bloggers like to spread rumours; they do not like national unity. 'Today, our country has achievements because we are tolerant and compromising. Otherwise, we will have civil war.

'Malays will kill Chinese, Chinese will kill Malays, Indians will kill everybody else.'

Via Bernama, Bloggers Who Slander Must Be Brought To Book, Says Khairy
"There are no laws in the cyberworld except for the law of the jungle. As such, action must be taken so that the "monkeys" behave,"

Via The Star, Zam: Ignore ‘goblok’ bloggers
The public should be wise in identifying the websites of goblok (Indonesian slang for “stupid”) bloggers, who are willing to be tools of others to destroy the nation.

There are many more, but I got tired of googling after I hit the fifth.

"So Saffy," you say, "I see tons of exposition, but what's the connection?"

The way I see it, if nothing else convinces you to train your kids to think before they speak, the above five examples should lure you to the dark side. In fact, if I ever have kids, I'ma gonna go to the national library, look through the archive of old newspapers (which I have already done twice, for assignment purposes) and photocopy EVERY ridiculous quote I find over, say, a period of six months. At the rate our highly-esteemed YBs are going, I should have my pickup truck filled in no time.

After that, I'ma gonna wallpaper my kid's room with those quotes. Every time *he doesn't give me a good reason why I should buy him an iPod or whatever it is kids these days hanker after, I'm going to push his face an inch from the closest quote and say, "You don't wanna turn out like that, do you? DO YOU?!"

Then he'll give me a dazzlingly good reason why I should spend my hard-earned money on him, and I'll be convinced, and everyone will be happy.

This works when you're exchanging frank and honest opinions about thermonuclear armament, the viability electro-magnetic pulses in a real war, Mahathir vs Badawi (c'mon, that's not even an argument anymore), Communism vs Capitalism, abortion, gay rights, whatever floats your boat. Cos, you know, my kids won't grow up to be idiots whose mouths are perennially stuck in their asses. Or, at least, they'll remove their heads from their sphincters before they open their mouths. That's good enough for me, really.

PS*: Before you scream sexism, I like boy kids. That's not sexist, that's a preference.

PS2: I'm hankering after an iPod too!

Contradiction much?

The Star headline.
"No crackdown on bloggers", sez Najib.

BBC headline, appearing one day after the joker above.
"Malaysia cracks down on bloggers"

WINNAR?

What am I doing with my life?

I think there comes a time where everyone questions the direction their lives are taking. I'm currently selling my soul at an advertising agency, peddling unnecessary stuff to people with money to burn. Before I graduated I wanted to
a) join Off the Edge
b) join Malaysiakini
c) be a social activist

180 degrees, I know. c) is still on, but right now, I need to know what I want before I can make a decision on what to do. Whatever course I choose to take, I must be good at what I do.

So who am I?
I advocate freedom of information, especially pertaining to elections. It's called an "informed decision" for a reason.
I am pro gay rights.
I am pro choice.
I advocate action instead of yapping, including sometimes-unorthodox methods to get the point across.

Who do I join?

Guess the occupation

Wednesday, 25 July
At an undisclosed location in Section 14...ok lah it's Secret Recipe.

Me: Can we have the Frozen Orange Cheesecake?
Secret Recipe Girl: Sorry, frozen line has been discontinued.
Me: Apasal didn't take it down from your website? -_-
Secret Recipe Girl: You can try Marble Cheesecake.
Me: Hazelnut Cheesecake got?
Secret Recipe Girl: Don't have, sorry.
Me: Raspberry?
Secret Recipe Girl: Don't have also. You want to try Lemon Cheesecake?
MYSTERY MAN: No!

I concur with his vehemence. I mean, sour cheesecake? SRSLY?

Finally we settle on Classic Cheesecake, or maybe it was New York, I forgot. I'm not a huge fan of cheesecake, the way I'm not a huge fan of cockroaches. When we were waiting for the birthday message to be written on the cake, MYSTERY MAN said,

"Can we have it in Helvetica font? Bold the "Gratz" please, and make it bigger than the rest of the sentence, thanks."

To her credit, Secret Recipe Girl didn't sock him over the head with her rolling pin, so all was well. Now guess what MYSTERY MAN does for a living.

PS: Birthday message was "Gratz! 1 year older!" Lame, I know. I wanted it to say "You're 1 year closer to death!" but seeing that the cake was for my boss, it would be career suicide.

Misc bathroom observations

In the vein of talking about toilets, the toilet in my office (meant for two, but only if you're really dirty, or married) is so freaking humongous it’s bigger than my room (meant for one, I'm so lonely QQ). Life is so unfair.

Let’s go over the features, shall we? It has marble counter tops, huge hotel-like mirror, two sinks, a bathtub wider and longer than my bed, a spacious shower stall, a toilet and a bidet thingy that I assume does not work cos it’s kinda cobwebby where bidets should never be cobwebby.

It’s so big that every time I go to the toilet I join the rombongan melawat tandas. Uber man, just uber. When I’m in there, I also get the insane urge to lounge in the comfy-looking bathtub, except it’s rendered not-so-comfy because it’s strewn with old newspapers.

Hmmm, perhaps strewn is not the right word to use. I suspect the management had someone cover up the tub to prevent workers from longing in the bathtub, so they’re instead forced to lounge in the extremely comfortable chairs at their workstations while Sam Hui’s Japanese Girl blares loudly from the speakers.

Working life is so tough man.

WTB RL aimbots for men

You know the one thing I don’t like about sharing toilets with guys? Imagine a bladder about to burst. Imagine your smug know-it-all friend (or mom) saying, “Here’s an idea. Next time, try to pee before your bladder fills to bursting?”

Now imagine running into the toilet in a cold sweat, fuelled by horrible images of a literal burst bladder and a mixture of pee and blood and whatever else is in your bladder running down your leg in rivulets. Imagine surviving the rest of your life with no bladder, and imagine living down the notoriety of being forever known as The Girl Whose Bladder Burst.

You think that’s the worst thing? God no. No no no no. The worst thing is making it to the toilet and just as you’re about to take your pants off, you feel something wet and slightly sticky on your feet.

Face looks down. Face reflects confuzzledment. Realisation dawns. Face contorts in disgust and anger. Face screws up in pain.

Congratulations, your bladder has now burst because instead of peeing, you stopped to investigate why your feet were steeped in a puddle of pee, fresh from the urethra of some testosterone-filled jock who cannot aim.

Nice one, guys.

It’s not like the toilet bowl is two inches in diameter, thus making it insanely hard for even Stojakovic to hit the target all the time. The freaking thing is like 3 feet wide, you could drive a truck there and not miss, which is the whole bloody point.

And please don’t plead inconsistent pee volume, cos
1) If your pee velocity fluctuates that much, I think you need to seek help, and fast.
2) If you aim properly, even as the velocity wanes its not gonna fall that short.
3) If it does, you should know better and freaking stand closer to the bowl already!

I’ll avoid voicing the insinuation that you’re perhaps not as well endowed as you thought you were. Oops…

Hmmm, first time I’ve actually written a post with helpful suggestions. Milestone or what? ;)

DND @ work

Saffron is officially a productive member of society, and no longer one of the 80,000-strong army of unemployed graduates Malaysia proudly boasts of.

I’m employed, and paid real money not beer, with EPF deductions and all, so I'm officially grown up HUZZAH!

In addition to blogging and spamming chatboxes, I also thought of "inspiring names" for phallic buildings that are the physical equivalent of e-peens, and came up with Hallmark-like sayings for an annual dinner invitation card, so there will be absolutely NO questioning of my productivity thanks.

FYI for noobs, those comment-on-current-event-posts are just fillers made to look pseudo-intellectual, kthx.

The difference between boys and men

A boy can't help but touch something that he finds fascinating, which is why there is always breakage of glass and other delicate ornaments when my male cousins are about the house. A man, on the other hand, understands what it means to "look, don't touch".

Which breed of males do we have running the country?

Quoted for posterity
"Two Penang reps make an issue of women’s dressing", May 23, 2007
Permatang Berangan assemblyman Shabudin Yahaya and Sungai Dua assemblyman Datuk Jasmin Mohamed blamed women's provocative dressing for sexual crimes, raising the hackles of Tan Cheng Liang (BN – Jawi).

“The women’s dressing menggoda (lures) and mencabar (challenges) men,” said Shabudin, who interjected during Tan’s speech when debating the motion of thanks on the Yang di-Pertua Negri Tun Abdul Rahman Abas’s opening address.

(paragraph removed)

Shabudin then interjected that men were sure to look when sexily attired women pass in front of them.

“This is because there is a daya tarikan (attraction),” he said.

Jasmin said that women who dressed provocatively also forgot their family responsibilities.

Sheeple, sheeple everywhere

Everyone is in a hoopla over this.

It's about time you politicians stopped talking to your constituents like we're idiots, mmkay? In case you didn't notice, huge afros and bell bottoms went out of fashion a whopping 30 years ago, and your puny talk-down-to-them-cos-they-don't-know-any-better tactics ain't gonna work now.

The sooner you wise up the better, cos you know what? People don't like people who insult their intelligence. You may be a dumbass who goes "Baaaaaaa" when someone says something, but kindly do not lump me together with them.

If I wanted "responsible" and "professional" reporting as defined by you, dear sir, I would hop out and buy a copy of the Star.

Quoted for posterity.
"Zam: Classify bloggers", Sunday, May 6 2007.
He said he believed that professional bloggers were those who were more responsible in ensuring that their web content was based on truth and not mere rumours.

“By right, there should be a mechanism to control this phenomenon, including classifying bloggers as professionals and non-professionals,” he added.

Zainuddin said this was important in enabling the people to determine whether they could trust a certain matter and whether the blog content was the truth or a rumour that could cause discomfort or undermine unity.

This was originally meant to be a WoW piece, but I lost it when I accidentally closed my window. Damn I have to remember to compose in notepad before posting it here.

Just a little note

In case anyone apart from the Oaf is reading this, I screwed up my layout. Bear with the funky text for a while hehe.

The trip to La-La Land

The other day, there was massive glass-breakage in my house. Mom, host of the family klutzy gene, (and of which I am the sole beneficiary QQ more), retrieved a bowl from the dish rack, lifted it too high, and shattered the glass door of the cabinet sitting above the dish rack.

The tempered glass door, according to her, cracked and then sent a shower of glittering crystal all over her, the dish rack, the sink, and the floor. Except for the fact that it could kill you, it's almost poetic.

As a result, the entire family was tasked with a noble quest: to brave a perilous journey and hordes of unwashed* to find a replacement for the glass door, cos seriously, no matter how slobby and unhygienic you are, you can't have lizards sleeping next to the corn flakes, can you?

The answer to that question, by the way, is no. Don't make the same mistake I did and say, "What's wrong with that?" Mom also happens to be the host of the fire-breathing dragon gene.

At the home of all things undead and woodsy** we trekked to the massive warehouse in an attempt to find doors that fit our 57 by 80 wall cabinet. Wrong move, seriously. They don't bandy around words like "massive" just for fun at the home of our Swedish friends, lemme tell you that.

Anyway, after a nice man told us we're shit outta luck (we didn't know the model of our cabinet, you see) we retraced our steps past the mirror section, back to the kitchenware segment, back up the escalators, over a winding hill and three rivers, and made it to the kitchen cabinet display area.

After looking at each and every cabinet door in that section (and the shelving section, and the office section), we began to be resolved with the sad fact that our kitchen cabinet is probably gonna be drafty for quite some time.

At that point, I was wondering who the hell builds cabinets that measure 57 by 80 anyway? Can't you just round up 57 to 60? I mean, it's only three cm geez, how much wood is that?

Defeated, the family trudged over to The Curve to have dinner (food review coming up next!). Now for those of you unfamiliar with the geography, there's a pedestrian crossing in front of IKEA, and the way it works is, you come to the pavement, glance left, right, and left again, then cross when it's safe.

Note: instructions do not apply to those who're Built Tough™.

Now I'd like to point out something so totally mind-boggling I found it hard to believe I was still in Malaysia. While we were standing on the divider in the middle of the road, cars actually ground to a stop to let us pass!

OMFGWTFBBQ!!!11!one!

I was so totally befuddled I completely forgot my manners and did not raise my hand in a thank you gesture to the nice and sweet drivers. The Oaf and myself talked about this amazing phenomenon all the way to the restaurant (about 10 minutes walk, I guess). What was wrong with them? What's wrong with this place? Are they Malaysian? Maybe they were foreigners (none of us had the presence of mind to look at the car plates, so dumbfounded we were).  Maybe they were newbies to driving. Maybe we've been staying too long in Cheras, where the people are crude and the drivers just plain suicidal. Maybe we need to go out more. Maybe, just maybe, Damansara drivers are batshit crazy.

It just boggles the mind.

On the way back, as we were making our way back to the IKEA carpark, I'm glad to report that cars did NOT stop for pedestrians, and we had to go through the same old routine of self-pity and helpless rage of cursing cars and Fords.

Balance is restored, equilibrium is achieved. The world makes sense again, hurray!


* When I say perilous journey I mean the 3 hour drive from Cheras to Damanasara, and when I say unwashed hordes I mean the masses of people who, for some reason, like to hang out at IKEA.

** Again, I'm referring to IKEA.

Observations on the Road, Part One

Malaysia is a land rich in cultures and traditions, especially when it comes to traffic customs and navigationary norms. All these, when done right, will most definitely kill you.

Part One*: If you’re not on wheels, you don’t use the roads
Might is right, people like to say. These same people also like to complain that Malaysian drivers don’t respect pedestrian crossings and cast baleful glances at big bad off-road vehicles like Ford “Built Tough™” Storms for terrorising the poor two-legged squishies who face mortal danger every time they decide to cross a road.

This is patently not true, that is to say, the meek pedestrians don’t really need your sympathy. You see, the constant bullying by wheeled vehicles has caused the Malaysian pedestrian form a common bond of brothers, to unite and develop a swarm mentality.

No longer do pedestrians wait for the lights to change before venturing onto the asphalt, nor do they huddle in oppressed groups looking for black and white paint to signify that yes, two legged squishies may walk here. Heck, they don’t even wait for a break in traffic before waltzing across without even a glance at the Fords and buses that are forced to screech to a halt to avoid crashing into exoskeleton-clad meatbags.

In fact, if you go to the Bukit Bintang area, you can actually witness poetry in motion, cos that area breeds a strain of especially hardy pedestrians that no one dares trifle with. Bukit Bintang pedestrians are like the X-Men of pedestrians, they don’t even bother to wait for a crowd to form before launching their attack.

A Bukit Bintang pedestrian (especially in front of Sungai Wang Plaza) will simply breeze onto the road regardless of traffic condition, and if a taxi so much as dares to lean on the horn the pedestrian will immediately unleash a series of Secret Super-Duper Karate Moves and completely decimate the offending vehicle.

Ok I totally made that up. I’ve been watching too much Heroes.

What the pedestrian would actually do is bang on the bonnet of the taxi, point at the driver and make threatening “Mau lawan ka?” motions with her arms while saying “KNNBCCB!” She would then stand immobile in front of the taxi while the line of cars behind the cab stretches back to Jalan Loke Yew, glaring as she waits for the taxi driver to take her up on her offer.

Finally, as her finishing combo move, the pedestrian will cast Level 5 Evil Eye at the driver for his utter ball-lessness, sniff disdainfully, brush imaginary dust off her sleeves and proceed to repeat the performance on the road in front of Lot 10.

I think this is what they mean when they mention “evolution” in Heroes. And they say the meek shall inherit the earth. Pah! In Malaysia, it’s pedestrians who are Built Tough™.


* Of many, or at least until my inspiration dries up.

Shrooms!

I am currently summarising a 6-page paper into a 5 minute presentation because my lecturer said it is "important". When a lecturer tells you something is important it means 1 of 2 things: it is either worth a bloody lot of marks, or it will come out in the final exams.

So here I am happily going through para by para, until I realise that I've seriously never came across more ridiculously puerile PC bullshit before. In fact, it's not PC. It's delusional.

Paper presented at the Workshop on Conflict Management and Conflict Resolution held in Kuala Lumpur, August 7 & 8, 1993.
Conflict Resolution: The Malaysian Experience
By Ghazalie Shafie

Malaysia's political parties are not based on racial lines.
The NEP is for the benefit of all races in Malaysia.
It's all the fault of Colonialist Pigs.
BN is all for equitable balance, that is why the party symbol is a cheng (forgot what it's called in English)

This is a bad time for me to be doing this paper. I've just about had it up to here with the racist finagling that's been going on, and I can't take any more of this bullshit.

Whatever this Ghazalie dude's smoking, I want some of it. I also want to sleep, damnit.

Hello blog

Poor old blog, you're so neglected it's not even funny anymore. If it's any consolation, I haven't actually touched my PS2 in more than a year now. :/

I never thought I'd live to say this, but Taste was right. I should never have gotten sucked into the unrelenting whirlpool that is WoW.

Okay, on tp the blog topic now. On Friday, I had an opportunity to chat with my J2 lecturer after class ended.

While we were waiting for the lift, I spoke about how my mom would hate it if I were to be a 'serious' journalist, and not a fluffy one working for The Star (though I heard the benefits are cushy hmmmmmm...). I don't remember exactly what it was that lead to this topic of conversation, but my lecturer said to me, "You have your life to live," which was strangely reminiscent of what another famous blogger once said to me, only he was less gentle.

I had intended to intern with Malaysiakini, but my mom was vehemently against it after she found out that the site was blocked from her office. "ANTI GOVERNMENT OMG! ISA OMG!" Okay, so she didn't exactly say those words, but that was what her shocked expression conveyed to my WoW-addled brain.

My lecturer then said something along the lines of, "If everyone thought like you who'd be the ones to make a change?"

I've always been an introverted bookworm. I have more books than shelves, which explains the perpetually-messy vibe I have going on in my room. It makes me look intellectual :p Anyway, I guess it was a natural progression to move from reading to writing, and I do love it, especially when I don't have deadlines and can write at my leisure hohoho.

My parents know that when I have a strong opinion about something I'm stubborn as hell and I won't budge, and I won't sugarcoat, and if I were to be a serious journalist this trait would most certainly land me in hot soup, and only hot soup if I'm lucky. I suspect this is what makes them worried about my choice of career.

I once said to my bro that I sometimes resented my parents for not allowing me to fall down and pick myself up. My brother said, "Jie, imagine if I were the one who wanted to do something dangerous. Wouldn't you stop me?"

Bugger him, he should've been the elder sibling and not me.

At the end of the day I do want to have my own life to live, but on the other hand I don't want my parents to worry about me for the rest of my career. A compromise would be working out a timeframe for me to work as a serious journalist that's acceptable to us both, but then again I might like it so much that I don't want to quit. It'll be better to not start at all, cos you can't miss what you never had.

This is the first time my imagine-if-you'll-regret-it-when-you're-80 rule of thumb has failed me. And I thought I'd discovered a fool-proof method of making up my mind. Blehhhh.

Oh well, it was never meant to be easy. One thing at a time, I guess. Right now, the immediate bane of my life is not being able to take notes as fast as a person speaks without relying on shorthand. It's harder than it sounds QQ.

Americans are nubs

A few days ago I was chatting with Mr Yankee Doodle (hehe) when he mentioned that Americans are the most maligned people in the world. It's perfectly okay to insult Americans but when you do it to another nationality it's racist and politically-incorrect.

For instance, imagine someone saying one of the below:

Example 1: Americans are stupid idiots
Example 2: Singaporeans are stupid idiots
Example 3: Lebanese are stupid idiots

Example 1 is totally acceptable and even encouraged, example 2 is somewhat acceptable* (cos I'm Malaysian hey!), but example 3 is a definite no-no. If you do it you risk raining fire and brimstone on you and yours.

I blinked, then said that example 1 is acceptable because it's true. Americans display the most appaling lack of knowledge about other countries.

For example, Malaysians regularly flout international trade standards by exceeding the North American Rubber Export Quota, but Mr Yankee Doodle didn't know that.

See? Americans are stupid. Of course, the fact that I completely made that up at the spur of the moment has nothing to do with anything, obviously.

Hoho.

*for those who are particularly dense and humourless, that was a joke. Besides, I spent the better part of a year raiding with Singaporeans, and am therefore a superb judge of their idiocy. Ahem.

Goodbye

Three months ago if anyone told me I would leave I'd have laughed in their faces.

But it was a lot easier than I thought it would be...and somehow that just makes it so much sadder.

Neither here nor there

Blizzforums has always had an unfortunate history with database trouble. One time, the database was deleted because the owner wanted more space for his porn, and deleted the BF database. How amazingly smart. Okay, so he didn’t exactly delete it for porn, but still…

On the upside, we got to make fun of E-Man and his twitchy finger forever.

The last time it crashed, something corrupted the database and we had horrible temp forums that were churning cesspools of bile, whichy explains why I avoided them.

Recently I logged back into BF and found that I had been fired. Me, the uber Works-In-Progress moderator who single-handedly educated the entire populace of BF that clicking on your avatar leads you to your profile. Be nice and don’t ask what avatar I was using at that time.

Anyway, I passed my modelling pics to the Hogster and he posted them in Staff, and a short little note which basically had me say “Fuck you for firing me twerps!”. And now I’m an Elder, which means, in addition to having my name in a nice blinding neon green colour, I have access to Staff Forum as well yay.

What’s the point to this? Why, no point at all. This blog’s due for another name change, I reckon. There Is No Point.

Now to figure out how to incorporate His Royal Oafness into the name as well…

Hmmmm

Playing WoW for a year+ must've killed off more brain cells that I expected. So far everything I've managed to compose has been really boring.

Perhaps I need to change my profile QQ

PS res, I've reactivated my hotmail account. Terribly sorry about that. :p

Spring Cleaning

dusting cobwebs, opening windows, and surreptiously dumping dead rats into the drain.

Tentatively, I'm back.