Is it time to move on?

I feel for a Moom. Damn you Poop (aaahhh... my heart goes pitty pat)!!

Have you ever pause and think deeply of how fast men can move on after a breakup? Or is it because they moved on long before the woman let go that makes it looks easier for them? I am contemplating…. was at the deck counting stars with Leodi while Mich fishing and singing…(for me….huhuhuh). In between the stars I saw a picture of a broken hearted Moom, and a trio playing at the beach namely Mr Potato, PrincessLaila and her kids???? Yes on the beach!!  You are a bitch PL??  Huh!!.

Women, being the emotional creatures, we tend to hold on things longer than we should. I ask myself.. Is this a weakness? or a  strength?

 

It could be both. I think. Due to being the strength, marriages and relationships last longer, usually til death do us part. Don't you believe me? Try asking any wives how many silent tears they shed alone over the years.

 

If it is to be a weakness, that makes us humans.

It is sad when men will move almost instantly as if nothing had happened while the women are left to pick up the pieces and desperately patching them up. (I am thinking of humpty dumpty sitting on a wall….) There is never an answer to the question 'why' when it is directed to them…. Men!!  ( usually it will be….why are you doing this to me?)

 

Oh….ouch!  this is a generic post. It does not refer to anyone, or anything. I was just... reflecting. And thinking of…..( yo shit!).

If you see a woman, who is able to move on as if nothing is affecting her, she is only pretending. She might look strong on the outside, but she's actually fragile inside. It is a defensive mechanism. People around might think she is happy because she looks happy, smiling and laughing, but no one really know how strong the storm is brewing inside her. Appearing to be strong is the only way for them (women) to hide the hurt they felt inside wanting not to get hurt again and again.

Do you think I am bias? Yes of course I am, I am a woman. And I admit, I'm an emotional creature and I'm happy being one emotional woman creature and not hating or feeling sorry for myself of being one. It is me and that is who I am. And it's what makes me truly a woman.

So, Moom, fret no more. We could be sad and as time heals, we will move on.

I am just a sucker for fairytales and happy endings and if magic does happen in real life, then, there is no life.

Is it time to move on?

 

Violets are blue so is the sky....

Life as nature sets in, is interesting. You meet new people, get along beautifully with them, observe them, write about those beautiful and not so beautiful characters you see in them and at the same token you get the advantage to read and understand their thoughts too. Along the way you re-acquainted with old friends.

Life by all means is very, very exciting and awesome too.

The sky is the bluest at the horizon these past couple of days. Sure there are some grey clouds floating around, fair weather cumulus and cumulonimbus but I love cirrus when it’s at the bluest. Somehow, with it being so blue, the rest of the world becomes more beautiful but if you are on land, the trees and grasses will look greener, hills look prettier than ever.

In life when we choose to see all the beauty, we will focus on the good things instead of the bad (grey dark clouds). There are a lot more good friends than bad, more beautiful memories than sad, easier ways to do things and the list goes on and on. Ultimately it’s our choice good or bad and a bad choice (no choice) in life will do us more harm than good, will consume and suffocate us along the way.

I’ve been really busy with work lately to catch up with old friends, good friends, new friends, treasured friends(Fb&T)….bad ones too. If I continue down this road, I guess I will end up losing most of them. (I don’t mind losing the bad ones though). 

I am so lucky so blessed with friends who understand my far afield life, and when we do catch up, it’s as if there were no hiatus in between. And again, it is my choice, to make the time and effort, compose an email, a line or two no matter where I am for them. Sure, we cannot get together as often as we like, but we must continue to connect. In any way we can.

Each time when I look through the internet, I see people connecting every day, every single moment (Since I am separated from the more sophisticated and civilized world by ocean a part the only way to see the other side is through the internet). Some are connected to each other with honest intentions and I guess some are not. Some genuinely like the people they are connecting and some do it because they have to do it. And that is life.

We are souls that thirst for connection, for involvement..... for relationship. That is the reason some of us are in temporary relationship, or trapped in a bad relationship, because any connection is better than none. No one is a detached soul. The thing that differs one from the others, are the intentions and ultimate goal. What do you want from the connection or involvement in a  relationship? Friendship?

Although life is not always fair, and relationship is not always smooth, choose to look at the bright side of things. That life is not always unfair and relationship is not always rocky and friendship does turn sour. Aim for balance. 

The sky is never always grey, and it was the brightest blue yesterday…(I wonder what it would be today)

I love my life…..Alhamdulillah. Goodnite peeps.

I love you….

'that is human nature'

It must be pretty bad or thought to be pretty bad when people say ’that’s human nature’ and they are no doubt referring to something unworthy someone did.

Come to think of it, I never heard this phrase ‘human nature’ been applied to a good deed, have you? We are so poorly thought by us and we condemn certain acts and attitude as inhumane…….

What is it then to be human? To have faults: ‘I’m only human, you know’……

To be better is angel. To be worse is beast, a monster or a devil. I do not know about devils but look at how we hurt or injured animal…are we only being human?

Gladiators were both professional and amateur fighters in ancient Rome fought  to entertain ‘civilized’ spectators. These fights took place in an arena:  man vs man and man against animals in combat that was at times to the death.  Bull fight in Spain: bull fighters (matador)s who got turn on by the roaring spectators while harming and injuring, before the bull dropped to its knees and dying, but if the bull fails to die the matador may use a sword with a short cross piece at the end which he stabs into the bull's neck severing the spinal cord and the fight is over.’ Laga ayam, sabung ayam , laga ayam sampai mati?? (cock fights) are more popular with Asians.

As in warfare: Wars of organized, armed, and often prolonged conflict carried on between states/nations or parties^, typified by extreme aggression and social separation and usually with high death and again …that’s human nature they said.

Read the stories about monsters and beast with an open mind, they are innocent creatures kill only for food unlike the human heroes who go about killing them or themselves as in wars are significantly for glory…

We talk about the rat race and call a real low down specimen of humanity a rat. When a man shows fear we ask: is he a man or a mouse or he is a chicken hearted or is chickening out…

A conman is a fox, a playboy a wolf. Inconsiderate and dangerous driver are road hogs, stubbornness in man are mulish or pig headed. A selfish and stupidly prejudiced person is a pig, as in ‘male chauvinist pig’ (MCP)…this last phrase is most unfair to pigs.

When a woman show an undesirable trait she is labeled a cat, shrew, dragon, vixen or minx and the word bitch has been so debased by human associations (as in SOB) that you can hardly ever use any more in  original straightforward sense of female dog. This is a gross injustice of comparisons towards those animals.

In scandalous remarks: For the English the wolf (Casanovas) is dangerous only to females. For the Chinese he is generally harmful and his special sin is ingratitude. The Malay equivalent of the English wolf is the crocodile. (buaya tembaga..)

We said someone is a snake, only mean he is lazy. Call an English man a dog, he may even be flattered by admitting he is abit of a dog but try calling a Malay man anything with canine connection and you may find yourself running for cover to escape his anger. (tp cuba panggil dia ayam jantan....ada yg suka)

I wonder what the animal use as insults when they argue: my beautiful feline with her …..

‘You…you…Male idiot fuc$%&g human being @#@%&…you!’

Hmmmmm……..

We are who we have loved.

How we behave with our current partner has a lot to do with what we learnt from past relationship.

Leodi: if things might turn out differently with the first date gone well, (either you or me) will you be here working with me now Nina?

Perhaps, he was referring to when I’d known  Mich during our students’ days in Sydney and he, with his own  Mary O’Toole during his students days in Ireland …...

As for me some spark flew. We ended up as a couple but it all ended up in tears. It taught me a little more about what love is and more importantly what love is not.

Mich went back to Mal after his final exams  and was married to someone else and so did I in Sydney six months later.

(Mich was married for eight years before his divorce and my own marriage lasted thirteen months…and the experience gave me a better idea of what I must do or must not do- in that quest to find ‘true’ love but by fate our life journey crosses and we are now working in the same surveying team)      

Me: I am glad it didn’t work out, as I would have missed out a wonderful relationship I had with you, before I met 'him'. I define relationship as anything with some kind of emotional connection between the respective man/woman. We are I believe, the sum of relationships past.

What we are now and how we behave with each other is, to an extent, shaped by whom we had shared our life with before. Whom we choose to marry has also to do with the lesson on love from past relationship.

My list:

Ø        Don’t underestimate kindness, gentleness and patience in a man. (he might turn into an angry cobra..)

Ø        If you don’t love the way he looks, the way he sounds and the way he speaks, forget about marriage because       that’s the first and last thing you are going to see and hear every day for the rest of your life.

      (he speaks Javanese…I will definitely twist my tongue to French…)

Ø       If he doesn’t share your sense of humour, you are going to have a frustrating and boring life together.

Ø       If there’s anything about him that you view with disquiet at the start of the relationship- the way he eats (to me it is what he likes to eat), the way his lips twisted when he smiles ( hehehehe…), his gaze (could practice poking those eyes with my index finger )-reconsider because that disquiet might one day turn into disgust.

Ø      Only marry someone you won’t mind sharing your most precious possession with. ( Does that include Billi…)

Ø      If you are not able to sit in a room without a TV, stare into each other’s eyes and talk and talk for hours on end about nothing in particular, it is not a good sign. 

     ( he is a diehard MU fan and my papa, mama and bros are diehard Liverpool fan….will I survive the ordeal?)

Ø       A man who kicks your cat is not the man for you. ( he doesn’t like cats. And I will kick him thousands even if he is merely pushing my cat away)

Ø      Be sensitive.( I will avoid talking about things that might cross the line and hurt him…eg.….F)

Ø      You can’t make someone love you just because you love him.

  Keep an open mind. (you could only afford to love him but not marry him)

Ø     Don’t get overwhelmed by a man’s fancy car, fancy house or fancy clothes. (It is the person inside the car, house and clothes that matters…as i could earn and buy things myself)

Ø     Finally, never borrow your boy friend money. (He doesn’t want it back and it will be a source of friction and you are in his debt.

When I asked him, lessons from past love, it was a much shorter list.

He would marry a woman he fancies, who’s considerate, who gets him, who loves him and whom he has absolutely no doubts about marrying her….

.

Tender Tussle

Is there a woman in the world who never sigh: Oh Man! while rolling her eyes And is there a Man who never torn in despair and growled: Huh Woman!

......but in their sigh and growl there are always notes of affection between them.

What are the men’s complaints about us women in their life?

They say, a woman, is impossible to please and understand. She begs you to forget her but cried when you tried your best. She asks you to go out with others and runs amok if you do.

She wants you honest, to know the real you, naughty, past and all. God! if you do tell all, she will never let you hear the end of it.

She: Is that girl pretty?

If you agree, the storm will break and you will not know what hit you. She complains you never bring her little present but if you did she is convinced you have been unfaithful to her.

Tell her you lost your job, blown your savings sky high or you been sentence to prison, she will stand firmly by your side. But forget her birthday or the date of your first meeting, and she will throw your things out the window and go home to mama.

A woman wants consistant  reassurance that she is loved but when you feel a surge of  tenderness and reach out to express it, she would often say:

 Hey I have a headache. What a lousy day.

She comes to bed with cream plastered face and feels hurt not to see the ardent glow in your eyes.

She spends half the month’s marketing money on cheap sales and expect you  to praise her financial expertise.

She declares she loves you as you are, faults included but spends more of  her waking hours yakking to reform  you.

She has hundreds strategies...she hints, coaxes, grumbles, pouts, sulks even goes on strikes to get her ways.

You are helpless because you know she does it all for your sake. You are her world. Your only rival for her devotion is the squalling infant she swears is the spitting image of you....

AND the womens’ grouses against men in their life.....

A man, they say, is Natures eternal challenge to womankind. Just as she feels she is beginning to understand him. He changes completely and eludes her grasp.

He is born contrary. Chase him, and he runs for his life. Give him up for lost and he comes after you, all intensed and wild eyed.

He does whatever he likes, goes wherever he pleases and you must not question him. But try doing one percent of what he does and he flies into a jealous rage.

A man is always right. The more wrong he is the more important it is for you to say that he is right.

He must always feel he is the boss. The slightest argument from you and  he suspects you are trying to ‘wear his trousers’.

He tells you to be direct, as he is a reasonable creature, open minded and flexible but it’s those feminine wiles are your only hope for success.

He stomps into the house in muddy football boots and scatters cigarette ash on the new carpets but then yells at you and the kids because his special desk has been slightly moved.

You buy branded shirt and ties but the next time he takes you out he insists on wearing his old shirt. When you beg him to smoke less, he says he wants a short sweet life. He hates you to make a fuss but when he has a slight fever, he would be mortally wounded if you do not fuss over him

He is amorous at the oddest times, when you are busy cooking or minding the baby but try setting a romantic candlelit dinner with music, he falls a sleep in his chair.

He cranes his neck looking at girls in skimpy minis and plunging neckline but his woman must be decorously dressed ALWAYS.

He spends his time working, chasing hobby, gallwanting with his cronies or staring at the tv ignoring you completely but expect you ti light up the moment he looks at you.

He expects you to be his wife, sweetheart, friend, counselor, mother, sister, secretary and to switch from one role to another according to his moods.

I guess Men and Women were never meant to understand each other.

If ever they do, married life would lose its flavor.

It is just obscenely wrong....

When I was in my early primary years in the early ‘90s I saw pictures which are new but familiar as those I saw when I was in my pre- school. Stark images of children with protruding ribs and distended stomachs, their sad eyes pleading into the camera. Families crawling on parched earth in search of water and food. People shrinking into human skeletons.

Mama: Those are people and children of Africa starving, their land is without rain for two years and besieged by ongoing conflicts that have ravaged food production and infrastructure and impeded aid and  the famine spreading touching many parts of East African lands. Tens of thousands of people, mostly children, have already died and there are an estimated 12 million people on the brink of starvation.

During that crisis, images of the starving prompted a mass outpouring of support from around the globe and inspired fundraising efforts like the celebrity recording of We Are the World. It will be interesting to see how the world responded that time.

The images of those people left my mind as I was busy with my study schedules in high school, pre U and university years. And in the past two decades I grew up with the rise of up-sizing, super-sizing and all-you-can-eat options at restaurants and fast-food outlets, and overeating and overindulgence have become increasingly normalized. Obesity is increasingly becoming an epidemic and food waste has reached staggering proportion, the crucial situation in East Africa is hard to comprehend.

More and more Malaysians are keeping awake till late to indulge in what is becoming a top national pastime – tucking it in at 24-hour eating joints, practically eating round-the-clock  at mamak shops close to and way past midnight  to satisfy the cravings of Malaysians who are gorging on calorie-packed late night meals with hardly a care – and getting obese in the process.

Statistics show that the prevalence of obesity among Malaysian adults increased by a staggering 250% over a 10-year period from 1996 while the number of overweight has increased by 70%.

Besides, about 38% of youngsters aged between 12 and 18 were classified as overweight.

It is time for us to focus on moderate eating, less waste and an appreciation of the bounty of food that is readily available to us.

Not everyone is so lucky.

Mothers in Southern Sudan are feeding their children leaves to stop them starving to death. They crushed foliage torn from trees then boiled it over fires outside their huts, draining the green-tinged water before their children devoured their sole meal for the day with their hands. They’ll get diarrhea from eating these but chomping on bitter leaves used as food is of last resort in here. We seen how thin they are and this is all they have had to eat since I don’t really know when.

One four-year-old boy sprawled naked on the earth after collapsing from hunger, his breath coming in faint gasps after refusing to eat the leaves as other infants wailed with hunger in the shade of a nearby tree.

Maybe someone knows more than I do about this—what I see here is just obscenely wrong.

My might have been.

Looking back at the crossroads in my life, I would imagine where I would be today if I had taken the other road than this….

The more sensible thought: for the fact remains I took the road I took and here I am and there is nothing I can do about it. This is only true, for each realistic person I know, there are a dozen who shares my weakness for the game of might have been.

Suppose if I had sign up for Arts instead of Science where would I be this moment?

Reality is here I am….on an oilfield far away from home working on surveys and drills. But if I were to pursue my first choice during my tertiary education level, I might be sitting in my own posh clinic prescribing pills and potions to the psychosomatic rich.

Or will I just as likely slogging soullessly on temporary jobs with fellow failures and drop-outs if I didn’t make it at all… scary.

I am here in this part of the world is because of my profession. Before, I used to read and watch features of hunger and starvation but to participate in the real sense is really breaking me to pieces now. Hunger does not result from lack of food but from some disruption in the distribution of the food itself usually due to poverty, military conflict or the denial of food to people as a weapon of denial during war or as political pressure against a given group.

There is enough food available in the world average of four pound of food per person daily. But most cases of chronic malnutrition result from problems in the distribution of a nation wealth and resources. The greatest failing of our modern world is in its inability to feed the hungry considering hunger is not cause by lack of food but the failure of distribution on reaching them and it become even more of a crime against humanity. Standing between the food and the people is a civil war where more than a million population had died of starvation and they are mostly children.

On both sides the terrible weapon is increasingly food not bullet.            

Of nose hockey and royal flush.

Papa’s friend a doctor, as a freshie in medical school, he submitted to worse torment and is none the worst. If it was his son that came squealing home after the comparatively mild dose at the residential school, he would give the boy a belting and chase him back to school..

“Yeah” said papa who did journalism at the same university. 

Papa: Ragging is good for the soul. It toughens you up and it takes the air and grace out of you, cuts down to sizes, makes you realize you are not all that grand to have been chosen to enter university or college or residential school.

Doc: Nowadays freshie hardly merit the name of ragging, wash clothes and bed sheets? Buy ciggaretts for their seniors or write out lectures notes. We in our time had to wash drains and lavatories and then get ‘washed’ in turn in these, the most dreaded method being the ‘royal flush’. Talk of obscene words, for my batch and I it was more than words. We get educated and learnt what life is all about that way and move on, a little less green.

Papa: Imagine, there are boys from residential school running home to mama just because they were made to stand on a table and break a few plates and had pieces of crumpled papers thrown at them.

Doc: What would they have thought of old time specials, like dribbling a piece of soap with their nose as hockey stick, crawling and lying flat in obeisance, doing the pumps till they collapse, going through the most ridiculous posture and performances, forming the front line in hostel panty-raids and later climbing a flag post to hang the trophy there.

And these two gentlemen looking back and viewed all these as fun and in their second year they gave what they took and more to the new first year.

The girls got it too, took and gave as zestful as the boys. Seniors dreamt up some weird ideas for them.

Mama: There was this guy from medic, had these cadavers (dead bodies for dissecting). He cuts off one finger and slipped it into my roomate’s handbag. She didn’t even scream when she took the thing out and hold it in her hand. She took it sportingly, fell for the guy and married him.

Doc: What do you say to that Nina?

The question is directed to me……The fact is I enjoyed being ragged in college that was because I was only made to sing, dance, lifted up my long skirt to show my ankles at a beauty parade, accept and reject boys freshie’s proposals, get signatures from the seniors, learn to say I love you in nine languages, and yell support for the university at rugby matches in between chanting army versions of nursery rhymes and school song.

No royal flush, no nose hockey, no crawling, no pumping, no climbing, nothing cruel or humiliating, nothing too idiotic.  Certainly no dead man’s finger in my hand bag.

I fail to see the fun in that particular ‘joke’ but a chap who goes round putting dead fingers in a girl’s handbag is hardly my idea of a dream mate…..

The time for larks is when they have found their bearing and can give as good as they get, for larks are true larks only among equal….

It was once HOME SWEET HOME....

Papa and Mama sold their terrace house in RS Ipoh to our next door neighbour who’s been eyeing for the house since we moved to SA nearly 6 years ago.

Then they bought a new house – a semi-detached single in SP Ipoh. I thought it’s going to be a farewell once the property was sold but I guess they never get tired of Ipoh or maybe when they retire they are going back to Ipoh for good.

There goes the house in RS where I've been staying during my growing up years (since I was eight).

 I had the middle room while Along occcuppied the third. After a month we switched rooms so that I could be nearer to Bibik’s. Afiq who was then 2 was still sleeping with my parents.

There was a wild guava tree at the back compound of our home where papa built a tree house. (Those memories came rushing  back on my mind like seawaves as I looked at the pix of MB Resort tree house by the beach in Tioman) We spent days and nights on the tree house which held lots of secrets Along and I shared.

RS is where I call home sweet, sweet home, where I came back for term breaks during my S*T*F and pre_uni years.

We held lots of birthday parties, the birth of my youngest brother Eiman, countless Aidil Fitris and Aidil Adhas, New year celebs, thaksgiving, and the death of our 3 cats (Hamdan, Syed and Halim).

Hamdan was run down by papa when he was reversing his car. Poor thing...we buried him at the backyard. Syed was poisoned by my Indian neighbour (his 12 yr old son). It was actually a revenge. On that fateful day  Syed bounced and gobbled up Bala’s pet bird ferociously while he was holding the poor bird in his hand.. Syed came home one day with lots of bubbles in his mouth and died a few hours later. And Halim died of old age….

The house we lived in shared lots of happy memories, shrieks and laughter, of wonderful playful days with other kids in the neighborhood, childhood arguments and tears that we shed on uneventful moment during our 13 yrs life journey in Ipoh.

Initially, we (my siblings and I) thought mama and papa would keep the house and sought other means to acquire another house somewhere in Penang but we realize we are only shareholders of their dreams whereas they are makers of their own dreams come true.

According to Ma the new house in SP has a bigger lawn.

Mama: The compound is bigger. Ada la tempat for the kids to play and run around.

Me: Budak mana pulak nak lari-lari kat rumah kita Ma? Your kids are all grown up dah tua2.  Takkan Mama expect kami main hambat-hambat lagi?

She smiled… but I knew in her heart, she meant grandchildren since Billi is the only one..

Billi

Billi

 I dare not say more


          

Marital fighting

I remembered reading an article “Fight Your Way To Marital Happiness” written by Mr. Marcell Seidler an Austrian-born Australian psychotherapist while I was a student in Sydney.

I must translate the article for my Mak Ngah and I am convinced that her rheumatism is due to years of being the traditional angel wife to my Pak Ngah.

Mr Seidler speaks of the archetype Australian boor who sits in the pub drinking with his cronies while his wife cooks and mind his children at home. Well substitute ‘Malaysian coffeeshop’ and you have Pak Ngah. But does Mak Ngah grumble this ‘neglect of her as a person’. Not she. I doubts if she even think herself as a person.

Mak Long is made of sterner stuff though older she married later for tales of her temper frightened off prospective mother in laws.Then Pak Long equally notorious for his rages, insisted for the village shrew’s hand and no other and they been married 35 years now and she is still untamed.

In our family, when someone wants to describe something indescribably terrible or noisy or chaotic we says: It’s like Pak long and Mak Long fighting. In fact when they get going nothing in the house is safe, crockery and other breakable items. You pass their wimdow assorted unguided missiles may come flying at you.

And the Bahasa Melayu vocab that assails my ears, I got it quite so comprehensive and picturesque from no other source than Pak Long and Mak Long.

Both have colossal memories. Pak Long can trace Mak Long failures right back to the time the first burnt meal she served him and she can recite his sins, dating back to the time he flung said burnt meal out of the window.

Mak Su has a different fighting technique. Hers is the silent suffering stance. I had always wondered why Pak Su kept getting those midnite screaming fits that no medicine man could abracadabra away

Martyrdom is a form of aggression and can be very destructive.

Kak Aisyah a cousin. She is the sweetest, saintliest lady a man could ever wish for...... and everyone said how lucky Abg Mamat was to marry her. She would always give him the patience on a monument look whenever he is at fault and everyone was flabbergasted when he left her for a widow who regularly chases him round the garden with a frying pan.

Would you sleepy eyes?

It is the taming of a shrew for some husband.

Am I? 
A shrew.....

The........

I heard a very faint whisper as I pulled up my sleeping bag.

"Hon, you farted."

I was too sleepy, so all I could muster was, "When?" and went back to sleep.

He didn't reply. Instead, I felt him tucking the edges of my sleeping bag with a comforter as I curled back to sleep. Is this the man who talks about the stars, the galaxies and the universe and the wide  world in the Ultimate …… -and he can wake me up in the middle of the night in this never end desert boundries  just to tell me that I farted?

It was only a FART….

Naturally, next morning,  I was in the bath and I let out some air before I entered the shower.  @#%%%%% !!  The odour was... oh God, putrid, rotten  was an understatement. Quite honestly, I've never let out anything so vile. It smells like a rotting dead skunk that was left on my ar** for 2 days.

I slapped my forehead and thought...Gosh!. No wonder he woke me up! If this was the smell I let out last nite... oh OH  NOooooo..."

 I was constipated since two days ago, so yesterday I took two   laxatives in the afternoon. The directive was for me to take them before I go to bed. I guess there was a chemical reaction in my stomach that resulted in the the ccumulation of the offensive and  poisonous gases. I don't really know but that's what I think happened... The odour  was  unnatural that I had to look in the mirror to actually believe that it was me who farted in the bathroom.

Moral of the story: Please read AND follow directions when taking laxatives.

I stood there in the bathroom after shower, not wanting to go face the others especially him. I felt so embarassed. In the end I braced myself, and went for breakfast as normal. Spoke nothing of last night incident. I suppose if we were to live the rest six months of our job assignment in this kinda nomadic mode, I wish there shouldn’t be any more moments like this.

At 10.00am  at work, I received this note on my table:

"I tetap sayang u walaupun kentot u membunuh ribuan dgn hanya satu das."


Hey....it's not funny.