Not exactly multi-tasking…but I have this strange habit of jumping from one webpage to another when surfing the virtual space.
Example: I open up several pages at once, usually about 6 or 7, the must-reads being the Friendster page, daily news, e-mail, some random blogs, the Google page, and Wikipedia, and jump.
The result is I could be in the middle of reading something as serious as Bush’s prodding of China’s democracy system (that guy just never fails to amuse…and irritate) and suddenly jump to googling about the gorgeous geek in the new Sugababes video (haha), from laughing over the fact that I can never be a maid in Singapore to suddenly finding out a friend is going through a bad point in her life through her blog…the sudden shift in emotions within the span of a few seconds is turmoil, but I do it. Even now, I’m reading up Wikipedia and some online jokes simultaneously. Idiot I am.
So anyways, numbers have played a significant part in my life lately.
The number of days I’ve been stuck in a massive jam in the past week:
7.
(That’s a ratio of 1 per day, people!)
The number of Harleys I’ve seen on the road in the last couple of days:
5.
(It’s a sign. They want me, I know it. I’m talking about the Harleys.)
The number of times I’ve thought of ripping off the heads of fellow KL drivers:
Countless.
(Basically, if you can survive the roads of KL, you can drive anywhere in the world.)
This entry really isn’t going anywhere specific. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind…a lot of trivial things, mostly. But before I go on, does anyone know any good Malaysian blawgs? Yes, I just learned the term from Wiki. And from ahajokes.com, you wouldn’t believe some of the laws they have in NY.
"Citizens may not greet each other by "putting one’s thumb to the nose and wiggling the fingers".
In all-good Chandler Bing fashion: Ohh-kay.
Monday was fun. I cooked.
Here, I would like to think I’m pausing for effect, but would only be kidding myself if I tried to convince myself you’re not choking in disbelief right now.
But yes, I cooked. With help. Lots of it.
This is how the story goes:
Monday morning I woke up late to Mum’s angry shouts. Understandable too, it was 11.30am. I was still sitting dishevelled on my bed when my sister suddenly bounds in and announces that my brother will be coming over with some of his friends for lunch and a quick Raya celebration. Then comes the juicy bit. From the look of glee on her face, I knew she had saved the best for last.
"Ummi says you have to cook lunch for them. They’ll be here any minute."
Oh, utter chaos afterwards would not be an understatement. I gave Lutfi a quick call for a quick estimation of how much I was supposed to hentam on the stove. He casually responded: "Oh, we’re coming in 3 cars. There’s about 15 of us."
My brother is a sadist.
So there I was, staring at the stove after a quick shower, and whipped up some maccaroni. In fact, I wouldn’t say "whipped up." Sounds too simple. More like stumbled and slipped and goreng-ed (literally) and bantai-ed. The whole time I was wondering where I would bury 15 bodies if the need arose.
The battalion of guys came and went, and suffice to say, they all left alive and kicking. Yayness. A major accomplishment for me. I have decided to forgive my brother, but the next time he decides to spring up that an entire kampung is coming over and we got nothing in the kitchen, he’s dead. Period. It was funny seeing them all clog up our living room though.
After all that was over, Khairie called from approximately 3272m above sea level. He was in Laban Rata, about two thirds up Mt. Kinabalu. Perfect ending to a morning.
Before signing off, I stumbled across this the other day and wondered:
Could there still be hope for peace after all?
Check it out:
Enough said here.
