My countrymen are not courteous at all

Dear governments of the world,

I suggest not wasting anymore money on printing "reserved for the disabled, elderly, and pregnant" anymore, because from what I've observed, my fellow countrymen cannot observe, or choose to ignore such signs.

I apologize for their lack of courtesy, and reassure you that some educated ones (myself included) feel horrible that such travesties occur and are embarrassed by them.

Working class men fill up all the seats on the LRT and pretend to sleep, while the elderly and heavily pregnant have to hold on to the bars for dear life when taking public transportation.

The priority seats at the airports are filled with youngsters plugged into their gadgets, while women with wailing babies are forced to sit far from the gate.

I don't know why this is, but from my humble experience, this doesn't happen in other Asian countries. A highly sarcastic and angry post today, fuelled by my experiences traveling with elderly parents.

Oxen have bad tempers

I'm an ox. I'm born in the year of the Ox, AND I'm a Taurus (almost wrote Tauren, I have obviously been reading to many World of Warcraft books. Just for the record, I have the whole collection). So those traits unique to the oxen, probably means times two for me.

I have a double dose of stubbornness. But one supposedly oxen trait that I DON'T have - I am NOT patient. I have low tolerance towards practically everything I encounter on a daily basis. I cannot for the life of me, tolerate incompetence, laziness, inefficiency, stupidity, and KIDS.

In fact, I think my impatience actually fuels my temper. I don't usually lose it, but when I do IT'S BAD!!! No joke. I hate myself when I crack and all Hell breaks loose.

One such loss of temper occurred today, I'm still seething like mad from the cause of my anger, but as I'm sitting he typing, and feeling zen from blasting music from my phone, I'm starting to regret how I handled the whole situation. In fact, I'm almost embarrassed. ALMOST.

You know how some people say never to send emails when you're angry, and just let it sit for a day before re-reading through to judge whether it's effective? Yeah, well I don't do that, I just don't have the patience. You piss me off, you WILL have an earful from me. And I will nag and nag and nag and go on and on and on about the issue and you will never hear the end of it. What's worse, I will always bring in highly irrelevant issues into the whole argument, and at the end of the day, no one really knows what I was pissed off about in the first place.

Yup, that's me. I'm a bit psychotic, but at least I admit it. I'm not afraid to admit it, so I guess I'm not a total lost cause as of yet.

At the end of the day, I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry we argued about dog t-shirts, of all things. It sounds super ridiculous now, but I swear I was so mad. And to some extent still am. But I'll be ok, and look on the bright side, the best people in the world were always a bit quirky :p

Armholes, armholes, everywhere!

This short, and seemingly rather nonsensical post, is dedicated to armholes. Yes ARMHOLES - as of today, the bane of my already -very-pathetic existence!

Today, just because I'm a very nice, and obliging person, I heeded the requests of one seemingly potential big fish buyer. Now I've come across some customers who have their weird and wonderful quirks about them, but spend LOADS AND LOADS OF MONEY (!!) with me, and so I willingly put up with their very strange requests. Like they want their clothes rolled and not folded, or they want every piece individually gift wrapped.

Anyway, the big difference between those big fish, and this potential one I came across, is they actually paid me for their purchases before such strange requests were even dished out.

This one is small in size, and where people usually ask for the sizing of an item based on let's say, a UK4-6 or maybe the pit to pit measurement, I got asked to measure armholes, for quite a few items. Now many of my friends would have told me off and asked me to ignore the request like a normal human being, but hey, times are desperate. Potential sales is better than having none at all.

So I obliged. Grudgingly, but the conclusion is I obliged, and will regret having done so for the rest of my life!! Dramatic, I know!!

The end result: I got no sales. The armholes of my items were too big for her tiny armholes. Boohoo, lesson learnt :(

Post Holiday Blues

It's the beginning of a new year, and everyone I know is excited for the year ahead. They've made brand, spanking new resolutions, and have huge goals and plans for the next 12 months.

Usually I'd be equally excited, a new year, new start, many things to look forward to. Not this year.

I'm horribly blue. I don't know whether it's because I feel that I'm still young at heart, and yet will be turning 27 this year, and just can't accept that fact. Sure, you can say that age is just a number, but in reality it DOES matter. For example, my ballet classes. I tire more easily than the younger ones, creak everywhere, and it takes a lot longer for me to recover. All that is due to the physically aging, and sadly, can't be slowed down just by "thinking" young.

Or maybe it's because for the past 4 years (has it been that long since I stopped working? It's been so long that I've honestly lost track) I've not given myself a break. No holidays, no MCs, no nothing. The good thing about it is that it shows that I actually enjoy and love what I do, but on the other hand it probably means that I'm tired, and worn out. I gave myself a small break at the end of the year. I let myself do nothing but play computer games, read, and watch shows without bothering with emails, and it's exactly THAT kind of break that I'm having so much difficulty recovering from.

Whatever it is, I honestly hope I snap out of it soon. Life is WAY too short to be spent being depressed.

Ballet Leotards - The New Age Chastity Belt

I love ballet to bits, it's my new passion! Well, my only passion. It was just one of those things that you think only happens in the movies.

I was stuck in a rut, experiencing a quarter life crisis, with my ego shattered to pieces by my boss who described me as "souless" and "passion-less". Thinking back on those days, honestly speaking, could anyone EVER be passionate about men's razors?!

But I digress.

On a whim, I decided to join an adult ballet class, since I was newly self employed and ready to exploit my freedom. In the words of my former colleagues, it's called being fun-employed! I remembered loving ballet when I was younger, but only did it til I was 10. Anyway, joined my first class, and experienced this roller coaster of emotions! Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, rainbows were shooting out of my ears and bodily orifices! I knew I was in love. It became one of those things I looked forward to doing on a daily basis (ok, the only thing I looked forward to doing) and the time I spent dancing, took all troubles and worries away.

I ended up taking classes 4 times a week. I would take more, if 1) there were actually more classes to take, and 2) if the classes weren't so ridiculously expensive.

My point is, if you have a young daughter who loves ballet as much as I do, always encourage her to do as many classes as possible. Not only will it nurture her talent and passion, I guarantee that she won't be doing the nasty with some boys.

I mean, have you SEEN what ballerinas wear?!

To demonstrate my point, I will now narrate what happened during my class tonight:

Class just started, we're all warming up nicely at the barre. We're halfway through our plies, and thanks to all the bloody squatting (to all the ballerinas out there, yes, I know we're not really squatting, but it does feel like it ok!) I have this sudden urge to pee.

I rush to the washroom and I:-

1) Take off my hip aligner belt
2) Peel off my leotard. It's body fitting mind you, it's a pain in the arse to pull it up and down.
3) Pull down my tights and undies. Which are also bloody tight and a pain to pull up and down.

That's just to pee.

Yep, at least 3 layers of clothing to remove before everything's gone. 3 layers of tight clothing, I cannot stress that more! By the time everything's off, you won't have the energy to do anything else.

And whomever watched Black Swan, and got the idea that ballerinas are all sexed up and get high all the time, you have got to be joking. Play back the scene where Tomas is groping Nina. Key word, groping. Nothing more. It's just too much of a hassle to do anything else.

Anyway! I hope this strange message actually does help to encourage you guys to send your kids to ballet!

Typical Malaysian Drivers

I'm on the left lane, and signal to switch to the right lane.

Car on right lane, 3 car lengths away sees me signal, and accelerates.

Car on right lane signals left, and over takes me.


Yup, typical Malaysian drivers.

Change of Heart

It's been 2 years since my last blog post. My "passion" for writing whatever I wanted to just went "fssst" and "poof" into thin air. What happened? I got greedy and materialistic, sad to say.

I became too ambitious and wanted to keep one of those blogs that everyone reads. The ones which I could make a killing out of from my readership. I wanted to transform this blog into "one of those" blogs!

So out comes the checklist - at that point in time, what did it take to own a "successful" blog?

1. Pictures and loads of them. The most successful blogs I've seen are those that have practically more pictures than words. I know, reading crap isn't as much fun as oogling that hot girl's cleavage.

2. A pretty face and a hot body. I say this because my boyfriend personally ONLY stalks blogs which have pictures (first point!) of the pretty blogger fully decked in make up, false lashes, colour contacts - ok a nice rack is also definitely a plus point there. Someone who looks good, and relishes in their narcissism. I have tried being like that, but after many, many futile attempts, I have abandoned trying completely. I am just not that kind of person. I don't even like to take pictures!

On that point alone, I don't even like wearing make up. In fact, I DON'T wear makeup and can't be arsed to do so! I am a very low maintenance, live-in-tank-tops-and-loose-pants kind of girl.

In other words I'm very lazy.

I could say I'm finally now comfortable in my own skin, and will not attempt to be someone I'm not. I don't mind dressing up for occasions, like the odd wedding and gathering I attend like, 4 times a year, but NO WAY could I do it every single day! I shudder at the thought.

3. Beauty or Food Blogging. Now I ADMIRE beauty and food bloggers, because unlike MOST bloggers which fall into point 2 above, their posts are full of substance. It takes a good handling of the English language to actually come up with all the adjectives to describe products / food. It takes time and dedication to write the posts. Unlike pretty bloggers who can finish up the writing portion of their blog posts in just about 30 seconds*

* I am not trying to be a bloody bitch and dismiss all pretty bloggers. It just so happens I'm very sore about a certain incident. I spent a good amount of money on an advertorial by a famous blogger, just to have churned out a good sized piece of CRAP. To add further insult to the injury, she blogged another post just less than 24 hours later full of nonsense SHOPPING pictures, which totally diminishes the impact of my advertorial!


So I actually tried beauty blogging (see my previous posts) but have failed dramatically. Sorry, I don't actually use enough beauty products to justify turning my blog into a beauty review site [see: Am too lazy to wear make up].

Food blogging is totally out of the question. There's no way I could actually refrain myself long enough to take pictures of food before actually scoffing it down. I enjoy food, I don't ever want to relate food to work of any kind. Plus I don't take pictures, enough said.

After all is said and done, I found that making money from blogging isn't for me and so totally gave it up. Until today. After my horrible experience with the advertorial, which was just last night, I realized that I didn't want to make money from blogs the way some people do, just by being pretty. I wanted to write stuff with substance! I wanted to be myself! Who cares if 99.9% of the global population wont' give a rat's arse about what I write or even come close to reading this?

From now I'll be writing to amuse... even if it's just myself.