se7en jeans. for all mankind.

yesterday i spilt orange juice all over my laptop. seriously.

there was a bottle of leftover from the department's hari raya thingy and somebody put it it the fridge. i didnt know why but that darn thing froze. so i let it out for a while, got impatient and started to shake it violently. shake shake shake. it was really thick, not-so-pure juice with the added sugar kind.

then i unscrewed the top and water just sprayed everywhere. mostly on my laptop. dude behind me came to the rescue. we now shook the laptop vigourously and wiped it with a wet cloth. seemed fine.

come afternoon, things were getting a tad too sticky. the juice had totally dried up leaving sticky bits here and there and the keyboard feeling more like a touch-pad thingy rather than the usual soft-clicking sound. dude behind me pulled my keyboard apart and told me to run it under running water. i did. can you believe i did that?

well, it fine now. really. i just got bits of mee-hoon on it now. but no worries they're easy to pick off.

my boss said for me to apply for a new laptop when she walked in on us pulling the thing apart. ha-ha maybe i will. D will be soooo jealous.

oh. by the way, thanks for everyone who wished me on my bday. gifts would be nicer but thanks for remembering anyways. ;) oh, well i got myself some nice gifts. a pair of levi's, two pairs of se7en jeans (yes! im excited too), a leather Mango wallet, two guess? bags, four esprit shirts, a pair of zara loafers and an armani top and eight pairs of nike socks since i wear socks at home. all in one day.

i know im waaay too old to use guess? bag which is really high school, but i dont care. until i can afford luella or marc jacobs or miu miu, i'll live with my faithful guess? bags. unless D is kind. doubt it tho'.

ms. twenty five three years in a row.

twenty five 2004
twenty five 2005
twenty five 2006

i stopped counting since then and the numbers have not change. try it. its good for the self-esteem.

im about two hours away from being yet again twenty five.

d presented me with a huge silver box tied with a white string. 'happy bday sweetheart'
my heart fluttered and already i felt excited (who wouldnt? d-uh!).

see, one of the advantages of having a boyfriend in the creative line (and who use to be in advertising) is presents are never ever ever predictable nor boring. i can safely say that i have never or will never receive a store-wrapped package of perfume/watch/or whatever other uninspired gifts men give to their gfs with a typical hallmark card that lets the card do all the talking.

no. i dont receive stuff like that.

i received five packages inside the box. individually tied with a string. from small to big, all numbered. and the best part was the handmade card attached to it with a poem, handwritten. and little drawings by the side. and the nice part was all the gifts was in the theme of pink and black. how sexy is that?

the gifts will remain confidential as D can get a tad too imaginative at times. hmmm.

anyways, earlier during the day, we attended the solemnisation of my primary school goodfriend who got married to D's high school friend. it was like a ten-year reunion for a bunch of girls who now are married/mommies/or like me, just single and fabulous. the ceremony was tasteful and elegant and the bride and groom were equally gorgeous. while we watched from afar their photos being taken, D remarked, 'beres. designer kawin ngan designer.'

well, excuse me. i think i probably marry one too. its not such a bad thing is it? life is pretty interesting and uncoventional. ha-ha.

sigh. i hate being away from you. loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou.

mr two seven

my wish is that i have a band who doesn't really play any emos, goth, post punk, synthesizers, repeat loops from depeche mode/new order, indo-influenced, indie yeah yeah yeahs, post rock, glam rock revivals ala darkness per se watsoever... you get my point.

i wish that i have a band that plays simple plain songs. three, four simple chords that i dont even care if it starts with a C or a capo on the third fret. i like voices in my songs and a back up voice on the chorus. and there's no need of wriggling guitar solos. i like when people would see my band and sing along to my songs. i like when my songs make my audience's hair stands up.

i dont like my lyrics make people think the meaning of the words. they dont need to think when they should just enjoy the music. i like it when people have imaginations on what i'm singing about. i like it when people do their own clips for my songs and paste them on youtube.

i like them to be radio friendly. i would want it to be radio friendly so i can claim my royalties from macp. i want it to be a soundtrack for a drama series. people would listen to it until paris' sounds better. to a point when suddenly people would accidently heard it again and it reminds them what a good music it is. when you know 40 different riffs, 18 different chords, 60 different scales solos really not too important to make a good music.

yeah, i know you're creative and talented. but hey, do you think u're (imaginary) 40K audience really notice you use them gadgets and zooms to make your guitar go all space-like sound. they just wanna sing along to your songs and enjoy a good saturday nite live.

yeah, you're different you wanna do watever you want. come on. you sure you wanna be like that?

but hey, it's your choice, your music, your song. don't blame me when the minute get out of your gig saying, "what was that all about?"

i like something like this.



don't worry im not looking forward to be a rockstar. being a rockstar is cliche. i wanna be the agent. i get 20% from what u earn even if you decide to cancel your gig. you get the blame i still get the moolah. you're not happy? hey, its malaysia, who's happy being a rockstar here? wait, is there any? you know who gets rich? the composers, the program directors and the labels.

i get it. you just love music. i love music too. let's be friends. glee.

ed: writer is having post late twenties syndrome when everyone else is doing something good for the world while he isnt. it's his birthday today.

being a sexist

someone sent this to me. so funny but so true.



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:)

selamat hari raya

am at the office. i locked myself up in my room, took off my clothes, put my feet up and watched movies after movies. nobody is at work today. nobody was here yesterday. but then again, its not like i have stuff to do at home. the first day of raya itself i was curled back in bed at ten in the morning watching back to back episodes of sex and the city under the thick quilt.

yesterday i came to work, no one was around. fucking pitch black and creepy. i let myself in, called my sister and she came over to teman me. we watched alexandria and american heartz which was both crappy indeed but we wanted to get out of speedy videos so quickly cos they were playing 'because you loved me' cept for it wasnt by celine dion (bad!) it was sung by dato siti (even worse!) they played it over and over again till my head was hurting so so bad. the fuck la wei!

today i was better prepared. had to bribe her yet another two movies for her to come and sit with me for 8 hours. i heard mummy asked her where she was going. she told mummy,'teman nenek tu pergi kerje la!'. the hell. i paid two original movie copies for you to sit here with me. dont whine. she here now, tucked underneath my desk with someones pashmina and someone elses cushion fast asleep. i did tell her to bring her own cushion but halfway to work i realized she brought a pillow, my pillow no less! i forced her to leave it in the car. malu la.

d is having a blast this hari raya. and im envious. he managed to run off from grandma's and book a chalet by the beach. arse.

damn. its so quite in here. hmm.

lets see what movies she bought yesterday..the break-up. hmm should be good. heart. heart?! this is what happens when you let a sixteen year-old pick the movies. yesterday alexandria today heart. bisa aja deh.

oh.

special mention to SMD. congratulations, congratulations, congratulations. do tell me what its like marrying a designer. ive always wanted to know. also curious on how uber-cool a designer's home would look like. cos frankly speaking, D's bedroom is more like the garage. not the hip desperate housewives one but the ones where you recover dead bodies.

baby we've come along waaaaayy ( me and SMD not me and D) . one day we're twelve and having girly fights and now you're getting married, to D's friend - no less. wow. life is so good. you go gurl.