junkie house-views One day I found myself house-viewing with a real-estate agent.Now I'm not the kind of person that particularly enjoy house-viewing - I see it as a necessary activity to acquire a nice and comfortable home to kick back, relax, and build a nice nest. However, whenever I'm house-viewing, with the combination of having to take various modes of transport, navigating to unfamiliar places, and making dozens of calls to a score of either very persistent or very nonchalant people, I'm generally feeling a potent mixture of annoyance, sense of harassment, and general lack of personal hygiene. This is a state normally not conducive to selecting one's future home, however, one does the best one can.This particular episode, as I walked into the house with my real-estate agent, I was also feeling another nagging/irritating feeling. My feelings were kind of like a weird horse race, like the ones you see on TV with BBC commentators narrating. Wash Me Not and King Annoying were pretty much tied neck for neck, with HairAssment trailing behind. However, there was another eager dark horse, usually lagging behind, but today enjoying a winning streak - I Need to Pee was enthusiastically clopping along, leading the rest of the pack.So there I was, this babbling real-estate agent showing me around this rather sterile, white flat (which to it's credit was rather spacious), and I trying to be interested and telling myself I should be interested. Meanwhile, I Need to Pee put on an extra spurt of energy (BBC commentator: I do not believe where this beauty is getting his energy today!) and started extending his lead. I start really squirming and ask the real-estate agent if I could use the place's toilet.Why sure, says the real-estate agent, and proceeds to showcase the bathroom to me. It was really quite nice, with a white gleaming porcelain bath and a disconnected-style wash-basin. The agent was doing his routine of explaining the bathroom's design - however, at this time all my attention was only focused on the white, gleaming, virgin surface of the toilet bowl. I wait for him to finish his spiel then I am alone in the toilet. I take care of business with relief and then rejoin him.We walked about the flat some more, me marveling at the space of the apartment again. I was going to ask the real-estate agent how much was the apartment going to cost me when (the most amazing comeback, ladies and gentlemen!) I Need to Pee came bursting back to view, with new-found vigour and a thirst for revenge. I did a involuntary squirm on the spot and thought to myself 'WTF?' I asked the agent to show me the apartment's other toilet, and looking at me rather quizzically this time, he led me upstairs to the second bathroom.I forego the niceties. I knock over the agent and use the toilet straightaway. Flushing and striding out of the toilet, I realised I needed to pee again!!! WTF? I did an abrupt U-turn in front of the by-now thoroughly puzzled agent and went back in again.While peeing, these thoughts went through my mind:Once home I'd better see a doctor straightaway. That's always assuming I ever stop peeing long enough for me to get home in the first place.This would make a great post for my blog.This was when I started swimming back into consciousness in my bed. It's 5am, I've been dreaming and I REALLY need to pee. junkie flies 1st class You know the episode in Friends where Chandler and Monica try to get into the first class lounge en-route to their honeymoon, and Chandler tries to blag his way in by acting all cool and posh? The attendant asks to see his seat number and he goes "That's ok, I have it memorised - it's 1A."My flight today:Junkie bullies boss into getting not an economy class, not business class, but first class ticket. "1A" can.Wikked. Signs that you are dining in a Michelin-starred restaurant I had the pleasure and great fortune of being invited to a dinner recently. Not having heard of the restaurant, I checked out its website. It was there that I saw a list of awards, and along with various other accolades and rosettes and what not:Michelin starredOk, fine, it's not a big deal. It's a big deal to me ok? I've never eaten in one.Sadly and to my great regret, it was a business/work dinner and therefore I couldn't be snapping away like a maniac (although I wanted too so much!), so you guys'll have to settle for my vivid literary descriptive skills. The photos featured here are actual photos from the restaurant though.Here are the list of signs that would alert you that you are dining in a Michelin-starred restaurant:1. You have to travel a shit-long distance for that restaurant. It's like driving one hour and getting lost for 2 to get to that really great and cheap Klang seafood place that is near the river thing. Really good restaurants are always a way out for some reason. It's like they want to test your dedication to eat there.2. You don't notice there are waiters, but you love the maitre d'. The maitre d' is nice and jolly and explains the entire menu from top to bottom explaining how it is cooked, makes jokes, enquires about your health, never misses a thing you say, and always gets all your orders and food delivery right. The wine and water and various food items seem to magically appear because you never notice them bringing them to your table or refilling your glass. Seriously.3. You honestly want to order everything on the menu. I've heard the phrase 'I don't know what to order, they all seem so good' but never really took it seriously - for the first time, I really wanted to order everything. I settled on:StarterTrilogie if Salmon,Caviar and Fromage Blanc - three cuts of salmon prepared in three different ways, one with caviar, one wrapped and seasoned with herbs, one in a pickled salad, with a herbed white cheeseMainsSea Bass and Crab Croustillant,Surf Clams,Antiboise Sauce - Sea bass and crab meat baked into a one-layer filo pastry on a bed of steamed vegtables, surrounded with surf clamsDessertHot Chocolate Fondant with Pistachio Ice Cream - this thing is damn good. A chocolate sponge pillow with melted chocolate inside, with pistachio ice cream on a thin wavy waffle thingamajiggie4. Everything is perfect. The maitre d' knows exactly what to do whatever questions you have. There is not a single brown spot, tear or any imperfection (I checked) on any of your greens, no matter how small nor insignificant. The filo pastry is perfectly baked, with no black spots and absolutely no flaking at all. None. The starter came with two triangles of 'toast', except 'toast' is too lowly a title for that heavenly concoction. It was bread, perfectly white (instead of browned, don't ask me how they do it) and evenly sliced, and when I pushed my dinner knife into it, instead of 'squishing' slightly like normal toast, it sliced cleanly through with a orgasmic krrrrrk. With my blunt dinner knife!5. Everything is delicious. Anything and everything that is presented to you as edible will be great-tasting. Some olives were on the table before we ordered, and while I don't like olives, I thought I'd try one, what the heck. I ended up gobbling about 4-5 of those.The level of attention to detail is bordering on ridiculous. It is definitely a unique dining experience, and certainly not just about enjoying the taste of the food, but the presentation, the attention to detail and the quality of the service and dining atmosphere. These people make all the restaurants I've ever dined in look like amateurs. Love among the ruins [Mini update 1: Murder weapon of the year.][Mini update 2: A sign that oil is a really really attractive commodity.]Below is a surprisingly heart-warming and touching love story....in a nursing home. Just goes to show that human emotions and love transcends everything. Also it's kind of hilarious.********************************************************************She was 82. He was 95. They had dementia. The fell in love. Then they started having sex.By Melinda Henneberger for The SlateBob's family was horrified at the idea that his relationship with Dorothy might have become sexual. At his age, they wouldn't have thought it possible. But when Bob's son walked in and saw his 95-year-old father in bed with his 82-year-old girlfriend last December, incredulity turned into full-blown panic. "I didn't know where this was going to end," said the manager of the assisted-living facility where Bob and Dorothy lived. "It was pretty volatile."Because both Bob and Dorothy suffer from dementia, the son assumed that his father didn't fully understand what was going on. And his sputtering cell phone call reporting the scene he'd happened upon would have been funny, the manager said, if the consequences hadn't been so serious. "He was going, 'She had her mouth on my dad's penis! And it's not even clean!' " Bob's son became determined to keep the two apart and asked the facility's staff to ensure that they were never left alone together.After that, Dorothy stopped eating. She lost 21 pounds, was treated for depression, and was hospitalized for dehydration. When Bob was finally moved out of the facility in January, she sat in the window for weeks waiting for him. She doesn't do that anymore, though: "Her Alzheimer's is protecting her at this point," says her doctor, who thinks the loss might have killed her if its memory hadn't faded so mercifully fast.But should someone have protected the couple's right to privacy—their right to have a sex life?"We were in uncharted territory," the facility manager said—and there's a reason for that. Even the More magazine-reading demographic that thinks midlife is forever (and is deeply sorry to see James Naughton doing Cialis ads) seems to believe that while sex isn't only for the young, exceptions are only for the exfoliated. We're squeamish about the sex lives of the elderly—and even more so when those elderly are senile and are our parents. But as the baby boom generation ages, there are going to be many more Dorothys and Bobs—who may no longer quite recall the Summer of Love but are unlikely to accept parietal rules in the nursing home. Gerontologists highly recommend sex for the elderly because it improves mood and even overall physical function, but the legal issues are enormously complicated, as Daniel Engber explored in his 2007 article "Naughty Nursing Homes": Can someone with dementia give informed consent? How do caregivers balance safety and privacy concerns? When families object to a demented person being sexually active, are nursing homes responsible for chaperoning? This one botched love affair shows the incredible intensity and human cost of an issue that, as Dorothy's doctor says, we can't afford to go on ignoring.Dorothy's daughter, who contacted me, said that, in a lucid moment, her mother asked her to publicize her predicament. "We're all going to get old, if we're lucky," said the daughter, who is a lawyer. And if we get lucky when we're old, then we need to have drawn up a sexual power of attorney before it's too late. Who controls the intimate lives of people with dementia? Unless specific provision has been made, their families do. And for Dorothy, which is her middle name, and Bob, which isn't his real name at all, that quickly became a problem."Who do you love?" Dorothy asked me, right after her daughter introduced us. She'd married her first—and only other—sweetheart, a grade-school classmate she'd grown up with in Boston and waited for while he flew daylight bombing raids over Germany during World War II. Together they had four children, built a business, and traveled all over the world, right up until she lost him to a heart attack 16 years ago. But she never mentions him now and doesn't like it when anyone else does, either, because how could she not remember her own husband? Her daughter visits every evening, and because Dorothy loves kids, her daughter pays the housekeeper to bring hers over every afternoon, "and she thinks they're her grandchildren, and it makes her happy."But even showing me around her well-appointed, little apartment in the nice-smelling assisted-living facility was an exercise in frustration for Dorothy: She joked and covered, but she might as well have been guiding me through Isabella Stewart Gardner's house, because all around were tokens from her past that have lost their meaning for her. There were tiny busts of Bach and Brahms, a collection of miniature porcelain pianos, Japanese woodcuts, and some Thomas Hart Benton lithographs she picked up for a few dollars in the '40s. "These are all my favorites," she said, pointing to shelves of novels by the Brontes and books about Leonardo da Vinci and Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. But her expression said that she couldn't recall why she liked these volumes best, and what I think she wanted me to know is that she once was a person who could have told me. When her daughter mentioned Bob's name—Bob, who was led away in January, shouting, "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" right in front of her—it wasn't clear how much she remembered: "He came and he went, and there's nothing more to say."So it was left to her daughter, her doctor, and the woman who runs the assisted-living facility to explain how this grown woman, who lived through the Depression and survived breast cancer, managed a home and mourned a mate, wound up being treated like a child. "Come back anytime," Dorothy told me sweetly.Downstairs, in her bright, tidy office, I met the woman who runs the facility—one of the nicest I've seen, with tea service in the lobby and white tablecloths in a dining room that's dressed up like a restaurant. In 30 years of taking care of the elderly, she's seen plenty of couples, but none as "inspiring" or heartbreaking as Dorothy and Bob. Which is why she keeps a photo of the two of them on her desk. In the picture, Dorothy is sitting at the piano in the lobby, where she used to play and he used to sing along—with gusto, usually warbling, "I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair," no matter what tune she was playing. She is all dolled up, wearing a jangly red bracelet and gold lamé shoes, and they are holding hands and beaming in a way that makes it impossible not to see the 18-year-olds inside them.Before Dorothy came along, the manager said, Bob was really kind of a player and had all the women vying to sit with him on the porch. But with Dorothy, she said, "it was love." One day, the staff noticed that they were sitting together, then before long they were taking all their meals together, and over a matter of weeks, it became constant. Whenever Bob caught sight of Dorothy, he lit up "like a young stud seeing his lady for the first time." Even at 95, he'd pop out of his chair and straighten his clothes when she walked into the room. She would sit, and then he would sit. And both of them began taking far greater pride in their appearance; Dorothy went from wearing the same ratty yellow dress all the time to appearing for breakfast every morning in a different outfit, accessorized with pearls and hair combs.Soon the relationship became sexual. At first, Dorothy's daughter and the facility manager doubted Dorothy's vivid accounts of having intercourse with Bob. But aides noticed that Bob became visibly aroused when he kissed Dorothy good night—and saw that he didn't want to leave her at her door anymore, either. (Note to James Naughton: Bob did not need what you are selling.) His overnight nurse was an obstacle to sleepovers, but the couple started spending time alone in their apartments during the day. When Bob's son became aware of these trysts, he tried to put a stop to them—in the manager's view because the son felt that old people "should be old and rock in the chair." When I called Bob's son and told him I was writing about the situation without using any names, he passed on the opportunity to explain his perspective. "I don't choose to discuss anything that involves my father," he said, and he put the phone down.But according to the facility manager, the son was convinced that Dorothy was the aggressor in the relationship, and he worried that her advances might be hard on his father's weak heart. He wasn't the only one troubled by the physical relationship. The private-duty nurse who had been tending Bob also had strong feelings about the matter, said the manager: "At first, she thought it was cute they were together, but when it became sexual, she lost her senses" for religious reasons and asked staff members to help keep the two of them apart.Employees wound up choosing sides—as did other residents, including some women who were apparently jealous of Dorothy's romance. And because the couple now had to sneak around to be together—for instance, cutting out when they were supposed to be in church—their intimacy became more and more open and problematic. At one point, the manager had to make Bob stop "pleasuring her" right in the lobby, where Dorothy sat with a pillow placed strategically over her lap. In all of her years of working with elderly people, the manager said, this was not only her worst professional experience but was the only one that left her feeling she had failed her patients. She had a particularly hard time staying neutral and detached, she said, because she kept thinking that "if that was my mom or dad, I'd be grateful they'd found somebody to spend the rest of their lives with."One day when Dorothy's daughter arrived to visit, she found Bob sitting in the lobby, surrounded by a wheelchair brigade of dozing people who had been posted around him by the private-duty nurse to block Dorothy from approaching him. That's when Dorothy's daughter got the state involved and started throwing around the word lawsuit, which only made things worse, the manager said. "Once she started talking legal, that pushed things over the edge." The state did send someone in to try to mediate the situation—but then the mediator was diagnosed with cancer and died just five weeks later. Though the mediator's replacement tried to pick up where he had left off, she was never able to establish a rapport with Bob's son.Finally, Bob's family decided to move him and insisted that neither he nor Dorothy be told in advance. No one in either family was there the morning Bob's nurse hustled him out the door. Later, the manager called his son and asked if there was any way Dorothy might come and visit just briefly, to say goodbye. The son thought about it for a few days and then said no, his father was already settled into his new home and was not thinking about her at all anymore. The lawyers told Dorothy's family that there was no way they could make the legal case that Bob's rights were being violated by his family, because you couldn't put people with dementia on the witness stand.Dorothy's son-in-law, who is a doctor, suspects Bob's son of fearing for his inheritance. Bob had repeatedly proposed for all to hear and called Dorothy his wife, but his son called her something else—a "gold digger"—and refused to even discuss her family's offer to sign a prenup. According to Dorothy's daughter, Bob's son told her, "My father has outlived three wives, including the one he married in his 80s, and your mother is just one of many." But surely Bob's safety was a true concern, too, and maybe his son had religious or moral qualms? "I don't think so," the manager said. "I don't think he meant his dad any harm, but he couldn't see what his dad needed. … He wanted his dad to have a relationship but on his terms: You can sit together at meals, but you can't have what really makes a relationship, and be careful how much you kiss and don't retire to a private place to do what all of us do."Though Dorothy might or might not remember what happened, "there's a sadness in her" that wasn't there before, the manager said. Bob "gave her back something she had long lost—to think she's pretty, to care about her step and her stride." She eats in her room now rather than in the dining room where she shared meals with Bob. And she no longer plays the piano. A new couple in the facility has gotten together in the last few weeks. The manager called their families in right away and was relieved to see that they were happy for their parents, and the families have been taking them on outings together. As a result of the whole experience, the manager, who is 50, recently had a different version of "the talk" with her 25-year-old daughter, instructing her never, ever to let such a thing happen to her or her husband: "I hope I get another shot at it when I'm 90 years old."Dorothy's doctor also took their experience personally. "Can you imagine as a clinician, treating a woman who's finally found happiness and then suddenly she's not eating because she couldn't see her loved one? This was a 21st-century Romeo and Juliet. And let's be honest, because this man was very elderly, I got intrigued; my respects to the gentleman." His patient was happier than he could ever remember; she was playing the piano again, and even her memory had improved.And though the doctor never laid eyes on Bob, in general, he said, the fear of sex causing heart attacks is wildly overblown: "If you've made it to age 95, I'm sorry, but having sex is not going to kill you—it's going to prolong your life. It was as if someone had removed the sheath that was covering [Dorothy], and she got to live for a while." But after the trauma of losing Bob, Dorothy's doctor came close to losing his patient, he said, adding that most people her age would not have survived the simultaneous resulting insults of depression, malnutrition, and dehydration. "We can't afford the luxury of treating people like this. … But we don't want to know what our parents do in bed."Then the daughter interjected that Bob's son certainly didn't want to see them having oral sex, and the doctor proved his own point. Holding a hand up to stop her from saying any more, he told her, "I didn't need to know that." But maybe the rest of us do. Running junkie ragged I've been uber busy with work last week, and the last weekend consisted ofcatching up with sleepworking some morestudying for a qualification I was stupid enough to keenly sign myself up forSo yeah. Not particularly happy with the state of life, wanting a convenient door to escape my busy-ness.Door to relieve all your troubles - spotted one day on the way home from work (about 3 storeys up)Anyways, I know I promised you my Greece pictures, but there's been a bit of a hiccup transferring the pictures from camera to computer, so pictures have been delayed. Meanwhile I thought I'd dump pictures from my mobile phone instead.Very politically incorrect toilet door signsWhen dining in London recently, I went to the toilet, and looking for the right one, I was pleasantly amused.As you all know, toilet door signs only serve two purposes:It lets you know a toilet is behind this doorIt lets you know men or women or both can use this toiletAnd while these toilet door signs accomplish both objectives, I must say they do it in quite an unorthodox manner.'Gentlemen' is a term used loosely hereThe sign for the 'Gentlemen' toilet. An astute illustration of the 'gentleman' at work. Note the proud thrust forward of his hips to emphasise his activity, and the subtle tilt of his head downwards, pensively regarding his area of interest. This clearly took inspiration from classical sculptures.I could never understand why ancient artisans wanted to sculpt this. Anyone can tell me?Of course, this raises the next immediate question - so how did they illustrate the 'Ladies'?Not in a dignified manner, that's for sure.Not all that ladylike, as presently picturedWah, a bit obscene can? An accurate if particularly undignified illustration of who should be using the toilet. Just in case some were confused as to what should ladies do in there.After that particular horror...Sneak preview to GreeceI found two Greece pictures in my mobile, which were panoramas which turned out quite well. Voila:A view from more or less my front door of my hotel roomGreece accommodation is so expensive, more so Santorini, but the views are amazing. And serene.Perissa Beach, my favourite beach in SantoriniAfternoons in Greece are as hot as Malaysia, i.e. you better find a place to hide about 2-5pm every day. Ang mohs don't seem to understand this, they flock to the beach everyday to plop their asses under the beach umbrellas and proceed to lobster-ise themselves. I don't know how they stand the pain from the heat.And with that, I'm sorry to say that I've run out of Greece pics for the moment. Stay tuned for more, I promise loads of cool pix! :)Off to more kerja,junkie Why Google Adsense will never work for me [Mini update1: Now it keeps insisting readers check into drug rehab!][Mini update2: More craziness added.]Google AdSense is an awesome idea.The basic idea is simple: a bot (probably similar to the one that helps Google users search online) trawls a AdSense advertiser's website, and thinks what would viewers to the website would most probably want to buy/see adverts of.Thus, if you were in a gadget review site, you'd get links to buy the latest gadgets. Similarly, if you were in a fashion blog, you'd get links to Prada, Gucci, Vogue, etc.But I found out today that AdSense may not suit me. Here's what my friendly neighbourhood Google Bot suggests to be featured by the ad in my sidebar as of the moment (it's probably still there):JunkieMunkie.com - too sophisticated for Google to comprehendDamien Hirst - I have no clue why I would be related to him.Amsterdam Coffee Shop - That one's from my Amsterdam trip post, probably.Dogs Diarrhea - Lol. That's probably from the Dogs post.Dog Tired - I dunno. What randomity is this.Feel Tired - Roflage!!!Somehow I don't think readers would want to buy liquid dog crap.[Update:] The Google AdSense bot has now reached new levels of insane advertising, taking a rather violent twist. Regardez vous:Dogs vomiting blood? Puppy diarrhea lol.This is probably a vicious circle. Great Scot! [Mini Update: Proof that once you're under the influence, you'd think anything is a good idea.]One side effect of flying all over the place is that you have a crapload of things to write about that just seem to keep piling up higher and higher.Scotland was one of the things I meant to write about and publish using Blogger's nifty delayed-publishing thingamajiggie, which I would theoretically set up to publish when I was in Greece. Which would leave you guys thinking I'm being extra keen and updating from Greece and you'd be none the wiser, while I'd be left feeling slightly clever.In theory. Obviously in all the crazy last-minute hullabaloo approaching flight to Greece I had absolutely no time to do anything of the sort, save for a one sentence thing literally typed with one hand while I shoved clothes into bags with my passport between my............teeth.So yeah. On Scotland - the great part about Scotland, or specifically Edinburgh, is that it's really like London for the variety of pubs, eateries, facilities, culture etc. Except it doesn't have the random dodgy/nasty/weird people you seem to bump into in the Tube.Digressing, today I saw a Oriental-looking tourist in Athens out with his family in what could only be described as a flamboyant clown suit (missing the makeup), and coming out of the Tube in London I saw a family with luggage and children sleeping in sleeping-bags just outside the Tube station (wtf?) and to round off the day's madness, a random dude passed me with what I thought was a ferret in his arms. Hilarity never ends. One day I should post about the randomness I've encountered in the Tube.Anyways.... so Edinburgh is really good as it has all the good bits of London without the nasty dodgy aspects of it. In fact, Edinburgh is pretty devoid of people altogether compared to sardine-can London. Which is nice for me who likes a quiet weekend enjoying the good weather.And the weather was very good indeed.The awesome weather made all the difference in a walk to Hollyrood (I know) Park. Clean and carefully tended flora everywhere, gulls and pigeons in flocks, and most importantly, there's no one to jostle for space and pollute the air with cigarettes, stereos, bawling kids, farts, burps, etc. Just a huge green space to chill out.Edinburgh Castle was also clearly visible from the park.There was also this rather curious-looking thing smack in the middle of the park which I'm still not sure is for.It strongly reminds me of a popular toy featured in Toy Story.Mr Potato Head!Walking around the streets of Edinburgh, I also stumbled upon a charming little street market, selling the kind of oddities you can only find in British street stalls.Chocolate fountain al fresco, with sweets to dip into the chocolate. With this kind of saccharine luk-luk, no wonder most British women are flabbulous.The market consisted mostly of cottage-industry arts and craft wares. This lady was very flattered by me snapping a picture of her and her prickly-spiky ornament type things.There was also a very funky store selling hand-made fashion items. Really pricey though, going for like £40-60 apiece.I then wandered into a shopping mall and got distracted by this t-shirt shop selling hilaroius T-shirts (e.g. 'W.I.F.E. - Washing Ironing Fucking Etc', 'H.U.B.B.Y - Helpless Useless Balding Babbling Yob'). I decided to buy two (two for £20!)Captions I chose:Wine is made to be drunk I am drunk Am I wine? Stick and stones may break my bones But whips and chains excite me!Yes they do. Oo yeah.One thing about pub names. British pub names are as easily predictable as Chinese restaurant names. With the Chinese restaurants, you have names like Golden China, Imperial Dragon, Heavenly Palace, Forbidden Gate of the Four Winged Albatross, etc etc. With British pubs, mostly you can just combine any one or two nouns to form a name, or an adverb with a verb. It doesn't have to make sense - in fact, extra points if it doesn't make sense at all. Hence you get The Cowering Toad, The Fiddle and the Chicken, The Scholar and the Drake, The Bold and Beautiful, etc etc.However, you do get the occasional deviant or two, or in this case, three of them in the same street. I stumbled across a street with pubs with the coolest names ever.Is that like a naughty Chicken McNugget?Lol. Just pure lol.Presumably the pub owners being particularly proud of the filth cultivation of their lower appendages. Seriously, who the hell names their pub Dirty Dicks????Scotland is awesome. Gone to Greece Will be back next week. Toodles. Who let the dogs out? Scotland has many dogs. Which is nice.I've seen so many new types of dogs when in Scotland. Lots of cute ones too. Dachshunds, Chih-Tzus, etc etc. However, I saw a really unique-looking breed last week, and OMG it was the cutest thing too. I stopped the lady walking it and asked what breed was it.I don't get Scottish accents sometimes.Lady: "It's Anerdel."Me: "What?"Lady: "Anerdeeeel."Me: ......How do you spell it?Lady: "It's an A-I-R-E-D-A-L-E."Oh.So how does an Airedale look like? Meet Dharma (left) and Kramer (right) OMG cuteness overload. They're also quite large as well (perhaps about the size of a Dalmatian), so it's rather unusual I find them so adorable. Airedale puppies! Unfortunately that also means there's dog poo everywhere on the street. When I walk to work and back, I always have to make sure that I stay right in the centre of the street. Not because I think I'm the grandest person there is, but because dogs poo all over the sides.If you're not careful, you might end up being very unpopular at work on that day.The French pay a lot of attention to how they behave, smell, and look. In fact, they pay so much attention to themselves that they don't bother how their dogs behave and poop all over the street, nor how the street looks or smells - as long as the dog doesn't poop at their expensively coiffed homes. Parisian streets permanently have wonderful waftage of cigarette smoke and dog poo. What would you call that scent? L'eau tabac et merde du chien? Sexy. Unlike their Parisian counterpartrs, Scottish dog-owners (and my are there a lot of them) are generally very clean and clear up after their dogs. But obviously not all do, hence the land-mines keeping my mind alert on the way to work early in the morning.Although they clean up after their dogs, 'clean' might be a confused word here. They usually bring a plastic bag with them when they bring their dog walking. And if their dog does its thing, they use the plastic bag like an odd glove and pick the offending object up.BUT IF THEY CAN'T FIND A PLACE TO THROW IT AWAY THEY KEEP HOLDING ON TO IT AND CONTINUE AS USUAL!!!It's not a problem usually. But I saw a lady, after acquiring a steaming lump of organic matter from her pooch, proceeded to continue into a supermarket and do her shopping while still holding on to that thingy!I didn't dare watch - but how the hell do you do your shopping while holding dog poo? You use one hand to hold your basket, and one to take things from shelves. So how do you hold your poo? Do you put it in your shopping basket too?Ewww. Don't confuse it with your Cumberland sausages or black pudding ok. Junkie reveals self.... ...not in a disgusting way, of course.I've been busier than a one-armed hanger recently.It's just the holidays coming up, I think there is an institutionalised conspiracy to squeeze every last bit of productivity before grudgingly allowing me to jet off (flying again! bah) to Greece. On holiday.For one week.Awesome.I'm jetting off to Athens for a bit, then flying from there to Atlantis. There I plan to live the life of a bum. For a week anyway - lazing in the sun, riding scooters around, etc etc. A well-deserved break, after God-knows how long. I used to have nearly 6 months of holiday when I was at university, and now it's been reduced to a measly 20+ days a year. No wonder we look forward to whatever meager bank holidays we have with the eagerness and glee of a 40-year-old virgin scheduling his first time. Note that I say 'he'. Somehow 40-year-old virgins are always hes. Like Solomon Whatzisface as told by Sheylara.But anyway I digress. I'll talk about Greece, Athens and Atlantis in due time, first, credit where credit is due, the amazing ivn has appropriately put his Mind's Eye to the task, et voila, c'est moi avant papier:At last, I reveal myself. Kind of.ivn, unabashed applause from my side. It's awesome - this shall be me profile pic!Next up, posts from my adventures in Edinburgh. Promise. If my boss doesn't make me promise other things. My long lost tag From Sue: If you were the ruler of the world and you could have anything you wanted as well as have people do anything you wanted, do you think you would get greedy and mean or would you be a good and fair ruler?First result in Google Images for 'ruler of the world'I'm going to go out on a limb here. I'm going to say that not only me, but I don't think anyone would be a 'greedy and mean' ruler, if put in that enviable hypothetical position.GREEDGreed and glut is a result of deprivation. If one obtains limited access to a luxury (as much money as you can grab in 10 seconds, for example), one is liable to be consumed with greed. But what is the underpinning of this greed?The need to stockpile, no? The urge to 'save for a rainy day'. You want to take as much as you can right now because you don't know when you're ever going to get this lucky again.Which is why the question in the beginning, by definition itself, cannot result in a greedy ruler. You can't be greedy if you have everything you want, ever. Still not convinced? Let's draw another example. Say you are studying for the most challenging exam in the world. One of the most valuable things to you would be time. Time to play. Time to talk on MSN. Time to stare at the wall. In fact there was a time when I was studying for exams that I decided that after my exams I would take 30 minutes to stare at a wall because it was so enjoyable when I was mugging away.However, after the exam everything changes. After the inital euphoria, boredom sets in and suddenly you have too much time. After a while you even begin to (the horror!) wish for something to study/do again.Once you can have as much of it as you want, you really only take what you need. Excess loses all value because there is no worth in stockpiling.MEANNESSI have no theory here. I'm gonna say I won't be mean because I don't believe people naturally derive joy from causing pain and suffering to others. Idealist? I don't really think so.Cheers. Sex & drugs & rock n roll - in Amsterdam [Mini update]: An Italian couple was caught having sex in a church confessional box while morning Mass...This is an anecdote about a trip to Amsterdam...******************************************I was in Amsterdam for a few days with two others some years back, two others that I'll call NorthKoreanTerrorist (NKT) and OldCat. Now many of my peers go to Amsterdam, they go to the Anne Frank Huis, other museums, have a canal ride, etc. Not my group.Me, NKT and OldCat pretty much scoured the city for the vices - we'd alreadyblasted through the Heineken beer factory (a tour, 3 half pints and a Heineken half pint glass souvenir for 10 EUR, very good deal)gone for a strip peepshow (1 EUR to see a bored lady waggle her ass half-heartedly, not a very good deal)and checked out the red light district (many girls and guys in flourescent underwear promising us a very good deal)It was really surreal to see prostitution treated like any other random trade - people queuing for good deals or for quality, some really fugly ones getting none and a terrible spot, a huge bald guy coming out of a room and the girl going 'Thank you, please come again!'... list goes on and on.So anyways, NKT then announced that it's time to go for the only vice that's left:NKT: Let's get high.Me: No. Drugs are bad for you.NKT: Come on, we've seen the whores, we've done the peepshows, that crazy dude even tried to sell us heroin! It's time to do the natural.Me: Drugs diminish your braincells.NKT: You don't need that many anyway. Brains are overrated.Me: Drugs are overrated.NKT: Wimp.Me: Alright, you're on.OldCat: Not me, I heard that that stuff stays in your system for months and I may have a dope check before I start my new job.Me: Come on, let's get high, you too ancient? Your wrinkled aortic system too fragile?OldCat: F**k you, you're on.Now, being the anal asses we are, we were insistent on getting the best bong for our buck. We went around the city centre asking for the finest and most potent stuff, and eventually ended up in a place which I forget the name, but featured an Eye, very much like the Eye you see in dollar bills (the Eye in the triangle thingamajiggie). So I'll call it the Eye.Everything in this place was topsy-turvy, very Alice in Wonderland ish. I supposed these all make sense when you're high, I don't know.There are actually a myriad of choices of methods when you wanna get stoned, apparently. The multiple-pierced dude behind the counter (with a knowing smile I didn't really care for much, at least at the nervous state I was anyway) rattled off the ways and effects in a very scientific manner, and here's what I remember:1. The method most Americans like is smoking, which is the least effective and most harmful, but apparently looks the coolest. Smoking is 3 times less effective than ingesting it. EUR 2 or something like that.2. You can eat it in a 'space cake' (also called 'funnie brownie', 'special biscuits' or some other cute phrase), of which 14 grams of marijuana have been baked into a fruit-cake, and 14 slices cut from it, giving an approximate 1 gram per slice. A proper 'dose' per person is approximately half a gram when ingested, so you'd expect people to share a slice. This was going for somehting like EUR 3.3. There is also a variant to ingestion in the form of a 'chocolate bon-bon', which looks somewhat like the kind of plastic-foil cookies I used to get from mum's friends as a child. Like above. This particular happy morsel contains half a gram, which is as you remember, one dose. This was going for EUR 2 ish.The dude also told us, quite clearly, that it's a very bad idea to try and take this with alcohol. We (or rather I) duly noted this as only weed-virgins can. I still can't say from personal experience if this is a bad idea or not, I'll let others find out.Now NKT, OldCat and I are many things, but 'moderate' may never be one of them, especially when we're together. We decided that, being the superior beings we are, we would need more than the recommended doses, especially when they weren't all that expensive to begin with. 2 space cakes and 1 choc bon-bon between all of us, which is 5 doses. We took our cakes and bon-bon and sat down in the coffeeshop and regarded them - I felt a wave of unreality pass me: My-my, here we are in Amsterdam, looking at 2 slices of cake and one chocolate snack like they might sprout an arm. And a leg.OldCat took the bon-bon whereas NKT and I started on the cakes, eventually eating half a slice each. They were actually quite alright cakes, nothing really remarkable except for a distinct bitter taste, like they put some herb into it. Which effectively was what they did.15 minutes passed and we felt nothing, except a slight worrying feeling that we've been had, and all these Dutch guys were sniggering at us. NKT and I finished up the cakes, tallying our doses as such:1. NKT: 2 doses2. Me: 2 doses3. OldCat: 1 doseWe decided to leave, mainly because we were feeling more and more stupid waiting for something that seemed less and less likely to happen, and we decided to visit (on my suggestion), a popular tourist spot, Singel 7, which is supposed to be the narrowest house in the world. Yes, boys and girls, when you're travelling and never want to go to tourists areas, you probably don't want me hanging around.Suggested example of NKT, me, and OldCat at Singel 7. Or maybe not.No, we didn't take any lame pic at the place. We did ring the doorbell and run away though.NKT then whispered conspiratorially to me "Hey, we're not feeling anything, wtf? Seriously I'm going to be really pissed off if I leave Amsterdam and we don't get high. WTF is this? We keep eating this crap and nothing happens!"NKT's solutions to life's problems aren't the usual ones employed by most people. Most people would consider one of these options:Go back to the Eye, and ask if this is supposed to happen, and whether we're supposed to feel anything after taking what we took.Wait it out for a while to completely make sure we've been swindled, go to another place and contemplate getting more bitter thingies to chew.Simply forgetting about the whole thing and spending our next Euros on peep-shows instead. Or nice girls/boys. Or whatever.NKT simply opted to 'lather, rinse, repeat' as needed. He promptly went back to the Eye and ordered up another slice of cake for himself and a bon-bon. OldCat grudgingly went for another bon-bon, and after rolling my eyes at NKT, I bought a bon-bon.Feeling ridiculous (at least I did), we ate our bon-bons together, yam seng style.1. NKT: 3 doses2. Me: 3 doses3. OldCat: 2 dosesWe started playing cards (for some reason the coffeeshop had them), and NKT slowly worked through his last slice of cake.Then it started happening. Final tally:1. NKT: 5 doses2. Me: 3 doses3. OldCat: 2 dosesThe first clear memory I have of it was when I was shuffling the cards. I was suddenly aware that it seemed like it was happening at a very faraway place, and I was somehow controlling my hands 'via remote control thought' (i.e. I consciously had to will my hands to shuffle the cards). I tried shuffling them some more, but it got very difficult. I semi-dropped them on the table, turned to NKT and said "Hey, I'm feeling something."NKT picked up the cards, fumbled and dropped them. It took him very long to push all the cards back to the box, and after that he got up and returned them to the counter. I wasn't noticing all this - I've been staring at the wall for the pstt 5 minutes without realising I was doing it. I suddenly snapped out of it, and tried to tell NKT. However, he seemed to know what I was gonna say because he started giggling. I found it gut-bustingly hilarious and giggled like crazy too.Between fits of giggles NKT choked out "Hey, shit, shit, let's go home. Fuck." I shared his sentiments - the idea was to try and rush back to our hotel where we could be stoned without causing damage to society/hurting ourselves/ending up in jail etc.The next 5 minutes were a blur of random streets - we were crossing quite a number of them and to this date I'm not quite sure how many near misses we had - I certainly can't remember. Also, who the hell led the way, I'll never know as well. We sure didn't have a map - NKT keeps losing em.Anyway we were on our merry way when OldCat has a brilliant thought. He remembers we haven't had dinner. He yells out "I want BEER for DINNAH!" and runs for the nearest supermarket. We run in right behind him.Picture this: a trio of giggling morons running top speed up and down the aisles, literally grabbing whatever catches their eye. We spent quite a long time in the supermarket - here's a collage of memories -Me spotting a cheese counter, looking at the many 'wheels' of cheese and proclaiming to the attendant "Man, those sure as fuck look like tyres!"Running past an aisle, I spot OldCat trying to grab a six-pack of beer of the shelf. I run up to him, grab his shirt and yelled in what must have been as loudly as I could "THERE IS NO MIXING OF MARIJUANA AND LIQUOR, STUPID". The horror.Grabbing about 3 tubes of Pringles and some ham - I had the newfound, irrefutable theory that they were brilliant together.At the counter, somehow we manage to pay and count our change. I remember that quite clearly, and being pretty proud of the fact that we could still count. I announce this to nobody in general.I'm pretty sure there were many people in that supermarket (I remember queuing for a significant amount of time), but for the life of me I could not recall what their reactions were. Were they shocked to see 3 retards who could only move and talk in top speed and top volume? Or were they simply just used to stoned people in the randomest of places? I dunno. If you were one of those people do tell me.The interesting part ends about here - because I can't remember most of it. I do remember:Munching my way through two Pringles tubes, ramming in ham slices in between mouthfuls, watching the news of some earthquake, and thinking idly I was going to give myself sandpaper for a throat the next morning. That was probably the so-called 'munchies'.Watching the wall-lamps in the room swim in the rippling ocean that was the wallpaper.NKT going into the bathroom "for a shower" and not emerging for what seemed like 4 hours. He has no recollection of what he did in there, I can only assumed he fell asleep in the bathtub or something. I don't wanna think anything else.OldCat trying to open a beer bottle (he did get some beer in the end, but wasn't smart enough to get a bottle opener) with some keys, he kept saying IT'S POSSIBLE, IT'S POSSIBLE I'VE FUCKING SEEN IT DONE BEFORE.We all slept until the next afternoon, so that means we slept about 18 hours. Lol.******************************************Findings and conclusions:Some people have the notion that being high is similar to being drunk. Now this was quite a few years ago, but I still remember this clearly: it's nothing like being drunk. When you're drunk you:Feel wondrously dizzySometimes kinda sick around the back of your throat and your stomachYou think a lot of dubious things are a good ideaYou wake up the next morning with a funny digestion system, a headache, and a bad taste in your mouth (not always all three, but often a selection of the three)When you're high you:Feel like everything is disconnected, like you're controlling your body remotely (like in a dream)Feel perfectly healthyStill think a lot of dubious things are a good idea thoughYou sleep very soundly and wake up perfectly fine and ready to run out againWhich puts being high better in terms of experience since it doesn't have any apparent side effects! Anyways for the record that was the last time I tried weed. So far.Just remember - the crap takes some time to take effect, and you feel nothing in between, so wait it out completely before you decide to enthusiastically chomp down more.So yeah, go to Amsterdam, but forget about the tulips and windmills - just buy tacky souvenirs depicting them so people will think that's all you were up to. Remember Tiffany Hirst From the Times, 13th June 2008:Tiffany Hirst: the toddler left to die alone and unloved It was “the little girl’s cry for help” that no one heard. In a case of neglect that resulted in the death of Tiffany Hirst, 3, a court was told yesterday how passers-by used to see the gaunt face of the toddler staring through the window of her mother’s squalid flat. Despite the flow of customers to and from the Sheffield pub below, senior detectives said that the neglect continued to go unnoticed, leaving the toddler to die, unloved and alone.The Scarborough ArmsTiffany was found by paramedics in a filthy bed in a beetle-infested room at the Scarbrough Arms in Addy Street, Upperthorpe. The pub was run by her mother, Sabrina Hirst, 22, and stepfather, Robert Hirst, 54. Detective Chief Inspector Steve Williams, who led the investigation into Tiffany’s death, said: “We have heard that Tiffany would be seen staring out of her bedroom window and this was probably the little girl’s cry for help but nobody realised. “It is heartbreaking. We think this neglect had been going on for months and that those last few months, weeks and days of her life, she was unloved, unwanted, starved of attention and left alone to die and she would have known that.” He added that officers, used to dealing with cases of neglect, had been traumatised by what they saw. “She was like a tiny porcelain doll, so tiny and frail and we all wondered how this had been allowed to happen in this day and age. “Children are a gift and should be cherished. Parents everywhere, those who have lost them and people unable to have them, will find this treatment unbearable and unthinkable. “This must never happen again and if people have any concerns at all or suspicions about the welfare of a child they must call somebody because if only one out of every thousand calls turns out to be founded and a child’s life is saved, it is worth it.” The face to hate: Robert Hirst, the son-of-a-bitch in question Judge Alan Goldsack, QC, Recorder of Sheffield, adjourned the sentencing of the Hirsts, now of the Prince of Wales Feathers, Worsbrough Common, Barnsley, until the end of the month. She had admitted manslaughter and he admitted neglect. They were remanded in custody and are likely to face lengthy jail terms. The court heard that the living quarters at the Scarbrough Arms where Tiffany died were “filthy and dangerous”. Live electrical wires were found hanging from the walls and one room where the family dogs were kept was full of excrement and urine. In the 13 months leading up to Tiffany’s death, the Hirsts were “in a habit of leaving children locked up in residential quarters”. Tiffany was severely malnourished, covered in bites and eventually died of pneumonia. A serious case review has been launched by Sheffield Safeguarding Children Board into Tiffany’s death and the neglect of another child – aged 12 months – to which the couple have also pleaded guilty. The board has representatives from the council, police, PCT, children’s hospital, Sheffield Teaching Hospitals, Sheffield Futures, NSPCC, and Probation Service. Alan Jones, its chairman, said: “We have been immensely saddened by the death of this three-year-old girl. “The board has commissioned a review, to look at the involvement that agencies had with this family and to make sure any necessary changes are made so that children in Sheffield are no longer put at risk in this way.” ***********************************************************When I was a child I always thought Tiffany was such a beautiful name. When I read about little Tiffany Hirst in the news while on the Tube today I got so disturbed that I couldn't think about anything else for a very long time, and finally had to let it out somewhere.WHAT KIND OF SICK PERVERTIC FUCK DOES THIS? NORMAL PEOPLE WOULDN'T EVEN DO THAT TO HOUSEHOLD PESTS.Robert and Sabrina Hirst. Remember these two names. I'm not sure if there is a God, but if there is, please can You make sure you send a memo to make sure they get extra special treatment when the time comes?Remember Tiffany Hirst. My thoughts have been dwelling on her all day, and I hope that wherever you are now, Tiffany, forgive us for letting you suffer in silence, and I hope you know that the world isn't like what you experienced in your short time here.(3 years old, you sick FUCKS)It isn't a dingy disease-ridden flat of which there is no escape from. It isn't full of electrical wires and dog waste. The world's imperfections may be apparent, but sweet Tiffany, there is much love in the world, and I hope you can feel our love and emotions for you wherever you are.Do not judge the world based on the sick, twisted hell your so-called parents created for you. Do not think that humans are monsters, like what your 'care-givers' must have been like to you. If you ever decide to come back to this world, I wish you the very best and hope you will have the sweetest second chance at a life in this world. A hilarious realisation [Mini update: junkie monkey by Urban Dictionary: A term used for fat, ugly rock-stars who are addicted to crack.]I was a big Mr Bean fan once.I'm sure you remember the opening scene for the original series - a spotlight shines on a cobblestone street, Mr Bean drops down ('cicak style', my dad always says), and a choir sings, while he starts to aimlessly run about.I was humming the tune to myself today and thought they sounded rather Latin. I did a quick check on what the lyrics were.Opening scene:Ecce homo qui est fabaEcce homo qui est fabaClosing scene:Vale homo qui est fabaVale homo qui est fabaDo you know what does that translate to?Ecce homo qui est faba = Behold (the) man who is (a) beanVale homo qui est faba = Farewell (the) man who is (a) beanImagining it in English, I found that spit-sprayingly funny. Yeah, I'm weird. Funkie foodies [Mini update]: New blog title (see your window title). I keep changing it. :/Ever since making my own pasta, I kind of inadvertently became a pasta snob when it comes to restaurants. I never really enjoyed ordering pasta in restaurants, believing it to be the least worth-your-money option (which is true) as they simply boil some stuff and dump more stuff onto it.However, I always jump at the chance to savour handmade pasta when I can. Hand-made egg pasta is really really good.Casacelli ala Moda (on my friend's recommendation) at a local restaurant recently...Note the Italian flag! Them Italians are always crazy for the flag representations. Spinach and parmesan on the left, ricotta and some meat pasta in the centre, and some kind of ham on the other. How come I don't know? It doesn't say on the menu, and didn't fancy gibbering my crappy Italian at the waiter. Doesn't matter, it's all good.For dessert, profiteroles.Nothing exciting here, except that I haven't had profiteroles since I was in Sicily I think ... long time.Which reminds me of the lunch in Chelsea recently, behold the RM40 roti canai/prata.To be fair it's like the best prata I've ever tasted. But it's 20 times the normal price.Even their bandung has to be cheem.Lol. Best quote in a long time [Mini update]: Buy my item. Please? :([Mini update]: SkinnySmartie is coming to London in October!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!While watching V for Vendetta, during the scene where Evey is 'reborn'.....P goes into fits and says, "Yay! Now she becomes V too! Then she'll put on a mask as well and shou-la-shou (hold hands) with him! He is FIRE, she is WATER, together, WE ARE 'W'!!!"I never laughed so hard in my entire life. 'Sex' is worth the wait Press 'Play' for the kick-ass revamped song!I am, of course, talking about Sex and the City! I went to watch it over the weekend. And not just in any old theater.In the fricking O2 arena, yeah baby. It was a great great day with great weather.Many movie critics have said that while the movie is good, at 2 hours and 20 minutes it is too long. It's too short I say.Anyways, no spoilers here, watch SATC the Movie right now - if you're in Censor City Malaysia get the DVD.After that, I caught sight of a mini-golf course.I won't torture you with a blow-by-blow account of my game, but suffice to say that I was doing pretty well until I saw someone get a hole-in-one and I got jealous. Cue cataclysmic blowup of concentration and using about 20 strokes on a single hole. Eeesh EEESH.Time your shot so that it doesn't hit the revolving fan!Cross the bridge without hitting the 'bumps' and try not to shoot off the course altogether...The theory here is to hit the ball into the rotating 'ferris wheel' and the wheel dumps it on the other side straight into the hole. This, I found, is goddam impossible, and I tried at least 50 times (and held up a lot of people in the process).All things considered, quite a nice day out. :) Oiley Hikey The Malaysian Government will hike petrol prices tonight (4th June 2008) by 40% to RM 3.70 (premium leaded). Here's a quick 5-min what-I-think.Pros:Less pressure from the oil price increaseBetter subsidy segmentationPeople who need the subsidy (lower income bracket) will receive it - i.e. the subsidies are now easily tailoredPreviously through a blanket subsidy, the people who benefited most from the subsidies are the ones that use the most petrol, who aren't necessarily the ones who need it the most (in fact quite the opposite)Less problems with (sorry) Singaporeans and Thais skivving off Malaysian subsidiesMore thought will be given to public transportGovernment can use the extra funds to improve public transport (both in logistics and in public image)People will be pushed to consider public transport instead of wanting a car as a 'given'Less of the 'I must have a car or die trying' mentalityHybrids may be able to break into the Malaysian market (a bit of wishful thinking but there you go)- Makes the government extremely unpopular, which is always entertaining to watchCons:My parents probably have to pay moreExtra funds may not be used for the right purposes (in which case I'd rather have the old-style subsidy obviously)There will be a traffic jam tonight at all petrol stationsPoor station jockeys will have to work OT tonightConsidering that crude oil prices have doubled since last year and may very well triple, it's not really a drastic measure by the government... A recent purchase [Mini update]: Flight captain's intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen. I am sorry for the delay in your flight, we are trying to chase a fox off the runway at the moment. . ."[Mini update 2]: Seriously, buy my item. Please?I bought something on impulse lately. Say hello to Pinky and Ponky. Pinky being the cat.Got this when I was waiting for a flight. An old lady of infinite cuteness smiled at me and asked me if they were for my daughter.-_-" Am I that old-looking?? I smiled and finally mumbled that it's for my baby sister. Nyahahaha.But these ain't any old stuffed animals. I'll show you.See? They have a velcro strap on their undersides - if you unfasten them, they become flat, bearskin-rug style!!!Like so. Aren't they awesome?! Saya ditag Joycie Boycie I can't believe I'm doing this. WTF.7 fakta tentang saya Saya kini berada di London.Saya tidak menggunting kuku saya, sebaliknya saya selalu gigit kuku. Nak baiki sikappp...Saya tidak boleh tidur sebelum mandi dulu... mesti bersihhhhh, cam mana kalau katil kotor????Saya tidak sukakan komputer. Saya memerlukan mereka tetapi selalu rosak.Suka makan kari. Bila-bila masa, beberapa kali pun boleh.Saya tidak suka ais krim, cuma suka ais krim lembut (jenis yang dijual McD!!!)Saya tidak suka Joyce kerana dia paksa saya fikirkan perkara-perkara rumit ini. 7 perkara menakutkan saya Lipas. TERBANG KAT YOU KANG. Nasib baik London tak ada.Steven Lim. Dia amat menjijikan.Pemuda-pemuda London. You memang tak tahu yang mana akan menunjukkan pisau-pisau parang-parang.Khairy Jamaluddin. Kena terang ke? Dia nih amat berbahaya kepada semua orang.Kerajaan UK. Setiap kali mereka hantar surat kepada saya tentu menuntut wang.Tuk-tuk. Masa saya menaiki tuk-tuk di negara Thai lah salah-satu kali saya betul-betul fikir saya matilah kali ini.Tinggi. Tidak boleh sama sekali mendekati hujung bangunan apabila di atas bangunan tinggi.... 7 lagu buat masa sekarang The Beatles - Here Comes the SunJason Mraz - The RemedyAmy Winehouse - ValerieToploader - Dancing in the MoonlightFergie - Big Girls Don't CryGoldfinger - 99 Red BalloonsLeona Lewis - Bleeding Love 7 perkara yang selalu saya sebut 'eeesh eeesh''haha.''eh?''hmmmm.''issit ha''hor''... can?' (seperti dalam 'don't like that CAN?') 7 perkara yang amat bernilai Keluarga saya!Teman saya... :)Rakan-rakan saya!!Kebebasan saya? haha.Perkerjaan saya!Pencapaian kehidupan saya...Kesihatan saya...tak sihat nak buat ape? 7 “pertama kali” dalam hidup saya Pertama kali ke negara serba giler ini. Masa tu I sungguh rindu rumah!!! eeesh eeeshPertama kali ke kerja, blur giler weh..... nasib baik buatkan kerja senang-lenang duluPertama kali tengok Phantom of the Opera. Mahu tengok berkali-kali!Pertama kali melihat surat tawaran/penerimaan saya ke universiti.....Kali pertama menjadi wakil negara....sebenarnya tak leh ingat dah kali pertama, tapi pasti banggaaaaKali pertama masuk Istana Ilmu Sihir - masih tak percaya nasib saya!!!Kali pertama buat perkara yang susah ini!!!!!!!! Grrrr 7 orang bertuah (JAWAB TAG NI BALIK!) SherrymintSueMeRenWenPinkCherryStanHanis Little Bikini Shop of Horrors [Digression] BTW, I'm eBaying, buy my item!!!I was shopping in Oxford Street the other day, when I saw something rather traumatising. You've heard of large bra sizes, but - ridiculous much?Too big for even my head. The matching hipster for this bikini top could double as a picnic blanket. Covent Garden London is awesome when the weather is good.Perfect for a nice stroll around Hyde Park, or a spot of shopping, or general gawking in Covent Garden. I did a lot of each recently....I saw this on the streets - the good old red buses again! Mayor Boris Johnson apparently started an initiative to get them back again. Well done him. However, the most reliable mode of transport is always going to be the Underground.Covent Garden is quite possibly the funnest bit of London - there's something for everyone: shopping, weird street performances ranging from magic shows to opera singing, awesome restaurants, bars, clubs, etc etc etc.Here are some regular sights:Man in Gold Bikini Rides the Crazy-High Unicycle act. Always gets a huge crowd. He does this regardless of season, pity him when it's freezing and he's prancing about in his gold bikini thing.Mr I Am Going to Throw a Playing Card Onto That Far Roof. Does random bits of magic in between, altogether very entertaining because of his showmanship rather than skill in magic. He DOES throw the card some ridiculous distance onto a roof though, so respect to him.That's him flicking the card some crazy distance, in a cool(ish) hold-my-hat pose.Various 'Statue Buskers'. This is where they stand around and pretend to be mythical creatures or statues. Here are two of my favourite in a rare having-a-chat situation: Hunky Orc and Quiet Tinman.Hunky Orc normally stands on a pedestal and snarls at passers-by, usually gets a load of giggly girls and for some reason gets a LOT of attention. I've always wanted to put my camera under his loin-cloth type thing and snap a picture just to see what he'd do.Quiet Tinman is one of my favourites just because he's the most statuesque of the lot! A lot of them don't even look like statues but Quiet Tinman on the best of days looks exactly like a bronze statue of a tired worker.Of course, if the weather's hot you can always have a soft ice-cream from the many vans. with Cadbury Flake in them. Awesome.To summarise, get out when the weather is good. Cos it's going to be crap the next day. More ambigrams [Update: apparently the Junkie Munkie design is a symbiotogram, not an ambigram. ...OK somehow I get the vibe that no one cares. Anyway I care, slightly.]I was gonna convert this into an awesome comp card for Jay, but I've been so busy over the weekend (Korean BBQs, friends' birthdays and so on, you know :) ), so I didn't really have any time. However, I did design something and I didn't want it to go to waste, so here it is, another ambigram (previous ambigrams here):Apologies for the really 'dirty' image - I'm rubbish at cleaning up images digitally, and my scanner ain't that good (or I can't work it good, same difference). If someone could volunteer to clean it for me that would be great!Jay, you're free to use this if you like... :) Junkie Munkie More ambigramsHere's a logo I designed over the week - drawn in hand and then scanned using a lousy-ass scanner, therefore the resolution of the words aren't so good.To see what's cool about this logo you'd have to view it upside down. Here, let me help.Thoughts? Weird-looking (and potentially obscene) things I've seen recently Interesting past few weeks in London and elsewhere......this is a quick photo-upload post, more to come later!Weird things noticed in the past few weeks1. The flattest flat I have ever seenIs this, or is this not, the flattest thing you have ever seen. I would so like to visit someone living in this thing. Spotted this while walking in Chelsea, unfortunately I saw this when I was late to lunch, and it was all the way over some bothersome fence or another so I didn't go check it out further.2. Bars of gold...as doorstoppersProof that Chelsea residents are filthy rich. They are not satisfied wiping their ass and lighting their cigars with bank notes, so now here's a solid gold bar as a doorstop!3. Milk carton jugThis one's just fun. Such an awesome design for a milk jug! Also in a Chelsea shop.Finally, a dildo shower-headThis is the shower head of a hotel I stayed in recently.It's smooth, polished and hard. Good for showers.The dildo-shower in 'action'. Ahem.That being said, I actually didn't like using it. Sure it looks funky, but it's disorienting as I always locate the water jet direction by feeling the shower-head (e.g. when your eyes are full of soap). With this you obviously can't. Fashion junkie A nice idea if ducks were ever into fashion design. Any volunteers for models? :)I present: Duck Connection UK™Currently still out of action (ish) in Foreign Place, limited access to internet. Plus I'm sore throating and fluing all over the place. Bleargh. inibelogsaya Other MDG posts:The MDG Simulation GameAn open letter to the creators of MDGThe MDG letter: the replyHanis the Manis recently designed her own banner at her blog, and invited others to have a shot at it. Here's my 5-minute attempt. Hanis, if you're interested, drop me a word and I'll tailor it to your taste... :)[Update] I've incorporated Hanis' suggestions, will do the other later :) You like? Leaving on a jet plane I'm flying off to another city next week - will try and take lots of photos when I get back! Meanwhile, a quick Google Image search yielded these wonderful photos..... Boobie Jiggle This probably makes it worse, but I found out today that my site comes up pretty high in the results when you Google 'boobie jiggle'. WTF.I so did not imagine my site to end up like this. The original post that started this can be found here. The MDG letter - the response from Jerad Solomon Other MDG posts:The MDG Simulation GameAn open letter to the creators of MDGHanis' banner designAbout a week ago, I mailed an email to the creators of MDG, with various suggestions and thoughts about the show.No one responded, largely. However, Jerad Solomon, of which MDG was his brainchild (it's MDG that's the brainchild people, not Jerad!), was kind enough to reply."For the last time, I'm not the brainchild, MDG is my brainchild...!!!"Anyways, if you've read my email, this is what he had to say.Hello. Thank you for your comments and detailed analysis of our show. Best regards, Jerad SolomonI was like, 'that's it?' Damn sien weh, I write so long he one sentence done already. I a bit mm kam wan can. I decided to prod him a bit more - I really wanted to know what he thought about it. I replied:....Thanks for replying. Do you have any comments at all regarding my email though? I'm interested in knowing what you think, as someone who created the show, and is very close to the production process (and subsequently the complications not privy to viewers). My thoughts are just from a viewers angle, and thus it would be very refreshing to have a 'backstage' viewpoint.Nothing happened. I was puzzled. I'm sure many people email them regarding MDG, but I had hoped that mine was serious enough for them to properly respond to it - I mean, it's hardly of the angry email genre at all which I think would form the majority of the MDG email demographic....I decided to politely follow up with him a little more. I wrote:I am still awaiting further comments on my thoughts - please let me know what you think. Which points you feel make sense, or conversely are totally nonsensical? Which ones may have potential for implementation for Season 2?I am genuinely interested to hear what you think, I await your reply. This time, I had a response a few days later. He replied:While we appreciate your thoughts and comments, unfortunately we are unable to address each mail we receive on a personal level. Many of the points you raised have actually already been considered by our team. The rest we will keep in mind for the next season. The formula we eventually adopt will be one that best balances ideals, constraints and commercial factors. Once again thank you for your time and interest in our show. We hope to hear from you again in the future. Best regards, Jerad SolomonYou bet you'll hear from me in the future. :) Probably not the immediate future though, I give up on this particular email tirade for the moment - I'm just going to assume they're going to clean up their act somewhat for Season 2 seeing they have less budget constraints and uncertainties.Anyways, so yeah that's as far as I got, sorry for not getting a more thought-provoking response.Thoughts, reader?