Finding An Old Friend

I was reading updates on my Facebook when I saw someone’s request to be added as a friend was approved by an old friend, Eizlan Yusof. Last I bumped into him was at a show by Anita Sarawak at the Shangri-La back in 2000, and had lost contact with him since.

So I decided to request to be added as a friend on Facebook, and attached a message asking if he still remembers who I am. The reply came a few hours later:

Eizlan Yusof's Thumbnail on FacebookEizlan Yusof
Today at 01:55
apa pulak tak ingatnya…apa kabar abg? akhirnya jumpa kat sini lak ya… masih terjun?

Another old friend found, thanks to Facebook.

Eizlan Yusof's profile pic on Facebook

The Last Letter

As this is the month I remember how it all began with Wifey last year, below is a reproduction of the final letter I wrote her before our wedding:

My dearest Jasmeen,

We have come a long way, long, bitter-sweet way to come to this stage in life. A long way to find each other.

I can still vividly remember how I first met you; and how I quietly admired this strong woman whom had gone through so much, and had to continue to go through so much in life. I am truly glad that we became friends first, almost always there for each other, despite the endless emotional roller-coaster rides we had had to endure. And I am glad that there was always that spark in us that was waiting to ignite our true feelings for each other.

I remember that sense of great relief the first time I held you tightly in my arms; how surreal it seemed then that you would choose me over others; this part of me inside struggling to grasp reality, that the woman whom had always been my good friend, had now wanted to be loved by me.

It has been a long journey for us both. We have laughed and cried together, and from now on, we shall continue to laugh and cry together – and this time forever.

I thank God for blessing me with you as my wife, and most important, for making you remain as my best friend.

I love you with all my heart and more,

John F Seademon

Remembering ‘Burger Night’

Wifey's Meaty Buns
It was the burger that did it…

It was a year ago today…

I was very anxious to meet Wifey after a 4-month absence. The last I had met Wifey prior to that was when I returned from a heartache-nursing monsoon-dive trip where we had lunch with Spena…and I had known her for three months then. And after so many makan-makan do’s she had had at her house, she finally decided to ask me to this ‘Burger Night’…or maybe because I complained to her non-stop for her discriminating me.

Anxious as I was, I was also feeling apprehensive that day as I felt quite inferior whenever I was with her. Here was this single mother who became my friend; neither of us existed on each other’s List of Probable Conquests, and she had so many suitors that included my own former classmate from my alma mater, several of my juniors from the same alma mater, one Datuk who tried to get into her knickers by enticing her with his mean fried rice, and another Dato’ who used to have some kind of family ties through my brother’s previous marriage, one vertically-challenged guy who was desperate to have his virginity taken by her, one of her colleagues…and technically, she was still going out with this ex-colleague of hers. I say technically because if she was married to the guy, she would be categorised as either gantung tak bertali or Ibu Tinggal. She calls him Mr Lip Service. Most of them are well-off, drive Beemers, wine and dine her at places I cannot afford, have the idea that a night out at the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra thingy at KLCC would be a perfect date with her, occassionally burn their bum-hair by the fireplace somewhere in Switzerland, and there I was, driving a Naza Ria, with a 6-pack that had heeded the government’s call for all banks to merge…leaving only a single pack, and more hair on my legs than on my head. My idea of a concert is the RM9.90 VCD of Sting‘s concert performed back in the early years of this century; my idea of a perfect dinner would be Ramly‘s burger with cheap cheese, rotten salad, and a slice of slimy tomatoes sold for RM2.50 each.

Yes, yes, I felt THAT inferior. I’d better stop this self-flagellating exercise before I am found guilty of trying to turn a garrulous writing into elegant prose or something.

But I always felt comfortable whenever I was with her.

And on ‘Burger Night’, comfortable would be a total understatement. Thinking that I would not see her again for at least half-a-year after that, gave me the courage to steal a hug from her and a kiss on her cheek – half expecting her to give me a tight slap in return. That slap never came. Soon, I found the courage to even ask her to sit on the armrest of the one-seater I was sitting on, and I held her, one arm around her waist, pulling her close to me.

Wifey and I getting cozy
Getting Cozy

Three nights later, we went out on our first date – and the rest, as they would say, is history.

Here we are, a year later, in this room at the Mandarin Oriental, on a mid-week de-stressing getaway, and also to celebrate a year of our courting.

Yes, we are always courting, and we plan to carry on courting ’til the day one of us leaves this world. It is always nice that we are still very much like when we were just a couple of lovers – I can say for sure that we fall in love with each other on a daily basis. Everyday now, ever since we became an item, we’d be anxious to see each other again…plus minus some hiccups along the way, which would be normal in any marriage. Everyday I would discover something beautiful about her.

Right just now, before she fell asleep, she commented on how I look younger and better than I did when we first met each other, and even better than during ‘Burger Night’. I don’t know about looks; but I will admit that I feel a lot better, far happier, than those days. And what I love about this marriage of ours is that our relationship is an emotional equipoise. Everything is so well-balanced.

And it all began with ‘Burger Night’…

Wifey's Phat Burgers
Wifey’s Phat Burgers

Ballad Of The Stepson And The Telco

My 8-year old stepson, Ali, wanted to send a message to his mother one night while Wifey and I were out having dinner. Apparently, he had run out of his prepaid balance and kept getting the same error message saying he had insufficient balance.

Telco: You have insufficient airtime balance. Please reload your prepaid account. For credit advance info, just type Advance Help & send to 99999.

Ali: Than I kick your butt

Telco: You have insufficient airtime balance. Please reload your prepaid account. For credit advance info, just type Advance Help & send to 99999.

Ali: Quiet!!!

Telco: You have insufficient airtime balance. Please reload your prepaid account. For credit advance info, just type Advance Help & send to 99999.

Ali: You die.

Spank The Glaucoma Monkey

Angry Gorilla

This post refers back to my post made almost a year ago: Spank The Monkey

In that post, Yummy Baby has since evolved into Wifey, while Funky Lady has evolved into the Liverpool Babe.

Yesterday, after seeing the kids, Wifey and I went to her cousin’s office as we were contracted by the company he is working for to do a branding proposal for them. We finished late, and since Wifey’s kids are with her ex (a.k.a Glaucoma Monkey) for the weekend, she called him up to tell him to send them back on time as they have to go to school today. He had the cheek to ask Wifey where she was, and upon Wifey’s reply that she was at her cousin’s office, he retorted,

“Azrin’s office or SeaDemon’s office?”

Wifey being Wifey, the victim of domestic violence when she was married to the monkey, went on to give an explanation on what she was doing at Azrin’s office, much to my chagrin. I can’t blame her for that – I’m pretty sure she still bears mental scars because of it, but she is no longer married to the bastard, therefore she was not obliged to say anything.

Just last week, he made me drive all the way to his place to pick up Wifey’s kids, but never picked up his phone so that he’d know I was already waiting outside his apartment building. In the end, I left fuming – because that was NOT the first time he had done so.

Evolution - Salagram dot Net

Despite this year being the 200th year of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, some primate apparently has yet to be able to evolve, even into a Homo Sexual. My guess is, his inability to attain a Homo Erectus has stunted his evolving into a Homo Sapien. I am not sure if he has any brain, let alone the brain capacity to think, or remember last April’s incident. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands, and sent him this SMS:

“Whatever arrangement you had with her (Wifey) has ended. From now on things go by my rules. You want to see your kids, you fetch them, you send them back. Neither my wife, definitely not I, are your drivers. If you don’t have a car, call for a cab. You have no right over her because that ended two Septembers ago. Therefore, questions like “Are you at Azrin’s office or at SeaDemon’s office?” should no longer arise and would from now on be totally uncalled for. I expect you as a father to feed, clothe and school your children. You cannot expect me to do that for you. By the way, you still owe me money for the kids’ school fees, pocket money, and their clinic fees. So make monthly provision to pay me back because you are their father. I hope we are clear on these points so I do not have to repeat myself in the future.”

Of course the ball-less monkey wouldn’t have any balls to reply to my SMS.

But I’ll be watching…because if he breathes wrongly, I’ll be more than glad to whack him senselessly into place again, just as a second reminder