Category: What da f***!!

Friedrich von Schiller would smile at this if he was still alive. Truth does exist for the wise and beauty for the feeling heart.

The first thing I thought when I saw the picture above was, “Damn! Why isn’t my maid anything like this creature?” For a very best friend of mine who is still waiting for her maid, stick to the relatively non-lookers. You wouldn’t want another headache.

A recent report in a daily said that Malaysian men prefer Indonesian women because they are “softer in approach, pleasant and enticing.” In the report, Professor Dr Ahmad Atory Hussain, a lecturer in politics and public policy at the Universiti Utara Malaysia stated that Malaysian men were attracted to Indonesian women because they are slimmer, more charming than Malaysian women are; and that the wedding gifts to Indonesian women are much cheaper.

He was commenting on a statement made by the Parliamentary Secretary in the Prime Minister’s Department, Datuk Dr Mashitah Ibrahim, who said that there was a rising trend in Malaysian men choosing Indonesian women as wives.

He also said the situation was made worse by more Malaysian women becoming educated and financially stable.

“Many Malaysian women put their careers before marriage,” Dr Ahmad added.

Well, I don’t know. If the Indonesian woman looks like the one above, or like Yuni Shara, then maybe I would think twice. But driving all the way to Jakarta for Hari Raya is not my cup of tea: it would be a lot easier for me to drive to Krungthep to a Thai wife than having to drive across the sea. Maybe Forlorn Soldier might beg to differ as he prefers tempe to tomyam.

Malaysian women are not all that bad, in my opinion. Putting career ahead of marriage is somewhat a necessity in an age where the cost of living is on the rise and the purchasing power of the Ringgit goes down. Just don’t leave it too late if you plan to have a child as it would get more expensive if the child is still school going while both husband and wife are already retired from the workforce.

I would still go for a Malaysian woman: saves me the trouble. However, I don’t think I will go for a malay woman again, unless she is super-nice to me and is not fickle minded. I have neither the time nor patience to woo a woman again, only to be let down in the end.

I went to send my son to his kindergarten last Wednesday and bumped into HPM again. She hasn’t changed a bit in the two months that I have not seen her.

Was that a subtle kiss she blew at me before she waved goodbye?

5.58am.

I just got back. In the darkness of the room I removed my clothes and changed into t-shirt and kain pelikat. Two minutes passed when The Datin’s cellphone’s alarm went off. She got up to turn off the alarm, looked at the digital clock, then turned to me and asked, “Kenapa tak balik pagi nanti aje?”

“Ini pagi la ni!” I replied. “Awal pagi! Pukul 6 pagi!”

“There is more than meets the eye” – Optimus Prime

There is always that two sides to everything. Good side, bad side; Side A, Side B; Front side, backside.

I have been going to the gym for more than a month now, but I have been resting for almost a week now since injuring my calf muscle in a futsal game played after a strainuous exercise regime I put myself through. On top of that my once dislocated shoulder has acted up again, and I also injured my shoulder blade.

People always tell me it is good to be exercising, but the exercise I do I programmed them in such a way that they would exert my physical limits, leaving only my mind to tell my body to carry on. The kind of training I do would normally render my hypoxic towards the end as there is not enough Oxygen that the blood could carry fast enough throughout the body – and it is always evident when I start yawning in the middle of an exercise and get tunnel vision. It shows that my heart cannot cope with the demand. My muscles would ache for days, and before it could recover, it goes through another torturous regime the next day or day after.

So, let me throw this question back to you: do you think my diligently-followed training schedule is a sign of self-dedication, or is the training regime I programmed is my way of going through a process of self-destruction?