Not Fast, Not Furious

I was tailgated this morning.

But why would a R34 GTR
cucuk a Slow White Poke like mine? Wait... where's the sound lah? Why the car look somewhat... smaller? When it came to my side, I almost shit in my pants.

Only managed to snapped the back. Look carefully

What do we call this? A WajaR, or a GTja? Did I mention it has a big ass "NISMO" intercooler at the front that work as an art piece? You guessed it. It's a non-turbo. The intercooler is just a deco. Oh, it's an auto, too.

The amount of money he spent on the bodywork will actually make him go faster if he know where to put it. Faster than this... this... thing here. Really gives me the shiver.

I'm no where close to his league.

We made technology

It has been two days the office is offline.

It wasn't the Macs and PCs. The routers and modem are fine. Not the cables and land line either. After been thrown around by the ISP
(you know who), what shocked us is that they said we didn't pay the "multimedia" bill for almost a year.

Biar betul?

We shifted nearly a year ago. The
bill, was sent to the old office. Apparently someone forgot to change address. Hence, our connection has been deactivated. Aren't whatever bills that got to do with the "land line" suppose to be in one bill?

These two days got me thinking; what
was before the internet?


Did we rely too much on it?

always "online" if I'm awake. At home or office. I logged on full time to chat, occasionally on social networking site, aside from surfing porns stimulating the creative juice, and other work-related research.

I can live without it when I'm outside.

"Internet" wasn't introduced to me until the mid 90s. And I've only got my own line when I started college. After so many years, there is
nothing left to surf. But I still frowned at bad connection. If I'm in front of the computer. Doing nothing.

Give these simple things a ponder:

Can you live without handphone?

Can you
still drive with manual transmission?

Can you sleep without the air-cond?

Was these habit? Have we became too dependent on them? Or that we are too used to them, they became an addiction?

There will be a point when technology ceased to advance. What's next when the LCD is paper thin? Is there a term call
highest definition? How small would you want your handphone to be when it's already one cell size and implanted in your body? So why bother?

Technology is suppose to improves our lives. Don't let technology made us.

But tell me how.

Hope tomorrow is not the third day.



"You gay!"

I got this a lot. If so happen Once a Turbo was lepak-ing at my house, and he saw me in front of the mirror. But seriously, what is wrong with guys who groom? Yes. I pluck my brow.

Does that make me gay?

Let's start with things that guys won't "normally" do, that I did.

I have stud on my left lobe.
I shaves my pubic. I bought sanitary pads. I chose/bought lingerie. I had nail polish on. I washed panties and bras before. I wore panties before. I cling on guys arm, or the other way round.

Lot's of guys have piercings. No? Just that I'm not to the extreme of getting it on my nipples or penis. Some pakcik/
makcik will stared at me with their "Budak ni jantan ke betina?" look. I get worst from Chinese. There's a saying that pierced males are for those who can't live through young age.

What is wrong with shaving the pubic? If I'm lazy, I just shave the sides and trim the front. Girls shave to feel sexy. Me the same. Girls have bikini lines. I don't want them poking out from the sides too. It's cleaner. It's neater. It looks bigger.

Some guys are against buying sanitary pads. With their pantang larang and other bullshits. Let's just say when your girls are sick, you still wanna drag her out? Let them rest lah. Please. Get the brand, drive to the nearest 7 Eleven, grab, pay, and go. Grab some drinks, some snacks,
Durex, or Marlboro on your way out.

Some guys shyly waited for their girls in front of the lingerie shop. Go in only to pay. Look, she still gonna
wear it in front of you. For you. Go in and choose something you like. I would willingly choose with my girls. Forcefully preferably go in the fitting room together.

Some girls uses their guys as a white mice for nail polish. An ex does that. I'm okay with that, seriously. I just let it washes off by themselves. Or let the girls wash it for me. Feeling their fingers running around mine. It's half massage. Isn't that nice?

Another pantang larang for washing bras and panties. You can pull them off during sex. I'm sure some sniff them too. I do. But you can't wash them? Is that an excuse? What about them washing yours? You'll get to know what size are they wearing, if you don't already. Or notice any heavier unwashed discharge. It could be cervical cancer. You might wanna bring them to a gynae.

No! I wear panties not without the knowledge of my girls. I wear them on "request". You know, sometimes been doing the same thing, just wanna be a little adventurous. Just wanna feel naughtier during foreplay. Nothing is wrong with that. The sex feels different. Trust me.

Once, we were window shopping. Fun Size saw some girls holding their hands together
. She cringed at the thought of guys who hold hands. Just for the fun of it, Since Primary Two immediately wrapped his arm around mine. To further provoke her, with added value, he grabbed my butt. We looked at her and said, "So?".

What these made me? Is there a term call "monotype"? I can't say I'm not. There are things that I'm "against" too. Maybe later.


The tiger came early

Buddy made this and mailed it over the week before.
How nice of him.

Art director and copywriter work as a team. Looking for the other half is like looking for a life partner. It's not easy.
It's never easy. This sounded gay, but it is so true.

You'll be spending most of the time with this person at work. At breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper, or any other meals in between. At job briefs, discussions, or meetings. How he or she writes will affect the outcomes of your visuals. How you came out with a visual will affect the writing style.

There will be times when one disagree with the other. Both need to work things out, compromise to a solution where both are comfortable with. Or "simply", give in to the other. It's a very mutual relationship thing.

I met Buddy on my fourth year.

We clicked right away.
Very passionate about his works; though, he's a writer, he looked into the art side of it. Just the value I'm looking for; I expect my writer to tell what is wrong with my visuals, and criticize me. He sketches well, too! There are personal lives beyond advertising that we talked about all the time.

The copywriters I met before him don't show a single at least some trait in these.

He got an offer from Red Apple Black Pencil to work with them after a couple of promising interviews. I was very upset when I heard this, to be honest. But as his partner, I encouraged him to take the offer, and fully supported him. The prospect over there is way better than where we're working.

the period of time we worked together isn't long, but I missed that already. I really do.

Hope we'll team up again one day, Buddy.

You still owe me a meal of your home made pizza!


The orchids survived the night

"I think... I'm lost."

I almost fainted. She don't like them? I thought.

"I'm near the place you brought me last time. How do I get to Jalan Ampang?"


She wasn't in the office when they reached. I was worried. I called her back just to make sure.

"Are you going in the office later?" It was almost 6.

"No. Why?"

"Er... nothing. Just asking. How about tomorrow?"

"Yeah, should be. Why?"

lah. Just... go in the office, okay?" Afraid they might not make it until the next day.

"Why? What you did!?"

"Nothing! You'll know when you get in tomorrow. Just go in." Trying hard not to spoil it.


We both laughed.
Tak boleh tahan.

"Wei!" Zoky called early in the morning.

They did their magic!


Dear orchids

I never understand the concept of women-and-flowers.

I can't deny I have given them. Once, in each relationship. And that's it, nothing more. I rather spent it on "tangible" gifts. Something that could be use. Something that could last. E
ven just as a deco.

Or simply, a fancy dinner that we both enjoy.

When I was about to enter the front, my heart pounded violently with both excitement and fear. The excitement of finally decided to do it. The fear of disappointment that might come later. When was the last time I felt this way? I couldn't remember.

But what had gotten into me?

What I did today, is beyond me. It may be the only time, in years to come. Why I'm doing this? I do not know. Am I being blinded? I'm not sure.

Is it just an
acquaintance? Or a coincidence that we met?

Is it the way you look at me? Or the way you made me stare?

Is it the way you talk? Or the way you made me listen?

I wish I knew. But it's an answer I could not find.

I wished I could pen all this down on the card. I just can't.

It is really, really hard for me. It is even harder between "being friend", or "something more". I hope for the latter, and certainly don't want to lose the first.

To my petal friends, I leave it all to you this coming day. When you've reached upon her hands, mesmerize her with your colours, drown her with your fragrance, bring a smile to her.

Show her the bouquet of hope.

Zoky, even if things don't work out, even if I lose either, I hope one day you will come across this. One day...


A-Parent-ly #32

As this is an ongoing experience, I will break them up into different postings over time. Hence, the random numbering on the title.

First off, no. I am not a parent in any way. But I can say, being one is not easy. Never knew how difficult and frustrating it is for my parents to bring us monkeys up until recently. Karma came early, I guess. Too early. Will tell more some other time.

Mother used to babysits. Newborns to toddlers. One at a time. Being her own "elder children", we helped out when she's busy with the housework.
But it wasn't these cute little babies my first attempt to "babysitting". It was Bro.

There's this
one particular time that is deeply carved in my memory.

It was just like any other help-your-mother-look-after-your-brother day. I was on the sofa, flipping an Old Master Q in hand. Laughing my chest off the whole time. Bro, only few months old, in his walking chair. Being a baby.

He started crying. It's getting worst by the second. I gave him the soft stopping cries "oooiii" (not the yelling one), while moving him. My eyes still on the brown pages of Old Master Q. I then smelled
something... foul.

very familiar.

I quickly ran to Father's room. Climbed on his queen size bed standing. Faced my back on the huge mirror. Pulled my mini pants down. Bent over. Looked between my legs. Spread the cheeks a little. And checked me out if I've pooped myself. Thought I might be having a slight diarrhea.

Eh? Mana ada!? I went back out and got a shock.

pooped all over his walking chair. So much, it got onto the floor!
"It was all yellow..." (Coldplay)


I could never imagine what a five-year-old me can think of at that time. The response was so spontaneously done.
Not a second wasted. From the moment of the stench digging deep in the nostrils, to the eyes squinting at the ass. While doing it with blood rushing to the head.

Why those steps? I wouldn't know. But. Simply. Flawless.

All I can say is the feeling of a 5mm thick rotan landed on your skin was really unpleasant.

"That's for you for unable to do a simple thing!"