The day I ran

I ran a lot when I'm a child.

I'm excited about things. The dimension, and perspective is very different then. Need to get to places faster.

I never crawl. I'm the butt-slider baby. You know, babies that slide their butts to get to places? Yeah, the rare kind. Anyone has fetishes for knees? I have a nice pair. Ass lovers, sorry. They are not perky. Look elsewhere.

When I started to walk, it's a shocker.

I was playing with my toys at the living. There's something in me that tell me to get up. So, I pushed my toys aside. Stood up. And balanced myself. I made my first step. Second. Third. Pacing faster after each into the kitchen. Clumsily, but excited.

Can't wait to tell Mother.



"(While pulling her shirt) Mummy! Mummy! I can walk!"



I was not taller than the kitchen top. Mother almost screamed her lungs out. For the millionth times, Mother had tried to make me stand. All I do was just dropped down. And slides away. Mother said I'm afraid, at times, lazy.

I never stop ever since. That evening, I started to explore the house. Going around every corners. Every rooms. Every toilets. Simply a warm up session before the "actual" explorations. As if I already had plans what to do the next day.

Guess you know how Father reacts when he's back.

I was barely thirteen months old.

A million love

A million love, comes with a million fear.

Fear, for falling into a hole. With a million kisses deep.

Fear, for burning your skin. With a million touches warm.

Fear, for losing your breath. With a million clutches grip.

Fear, for taking a blow. With a million pounding heart.

Fear, for soaking a sleeve. With a million dripping tear.

For a million love, will too, one day, disappear.

Pint Rating System

We have a game that we play every tani sessions.

It is to rate how drunk are you to actually sleep with someone.

We rate it by the pint. From 0 pint to 4 – 1 being a little tipsy, 4 you are downed – anything beyond, you are either desperate, pervy, or unfortunately, spiked. No pint at all, meaning you can do him / her without touching alcohol – the angelic looking ones lah – but hardly the case.

As it was brought into practice, it got too obvious and too loud, especially into our 3rd pint. So, we created a code name for each.

0 pint: Pirelli. The tyre brand. It has a range called P ZERO.
1 pint: WiMAX. P1 WiMAX.
2 pints: Parking. Level B2.
3 pints: Dish. As in the Petri dish.
4 pints: Por favor. Please, in Spanish.

We also created a version exclusively for female.

0 pint: A meal will do. Breakie. Lunch. Dinner. Or anything in between.
1 pint: Vincci range.
2 pints: Zara. Topshop. Dorothy. And the like.
3 pints: Coach. LV. Prada. And others.
4 pints: Tifanny & Co.

So guys, when a girl say you are a "Tiffany", don't get too excited about it. You are just fugly.

Baby once asked after I told her about this game.



"So… What am I?"

"You are Pirelli-able!"

Tick tock

You can never recover lost time.

But when you're missing someone so badly, and counting the days till they are back at your side, you rather have no time at all.

I have two favourite watches. Both are Tissot. One classic. One automatic. I'd always complain about the automatic one being too fast – over two minutes difference per week – as compare to the classic, my handphone, and the clocks on the iPad, PC, and office Mac. Even Slow White Poke's clock does not differentiate that much.

This is one of the only few instances I wish the time is not accurate at all.

And it's only two days since.

Argh!

Burnt butter croissant

I emit more body heat than most people do.

Baby wasn't the first who said I'm nice to snuggle during cold weather. But she's the first who complain on hot days.

I too, has an oily face. As much as I hated it, I can't do much about it. Have tried brands after brands of oil-control facial wash – make it even worse. Resolved in just using normal body wash or soap now. Or just periodically drown myself in water.

I understand why she gave me that nickname.

But I still don't get the "croissant" part…





Damn. I missed her already.

Day 1.

Be a lawyer

I could speak before I could walk.

Like an adult trapped in a baby's body. And it's not baby talk – I can converse well with just about anyone. My parents said it started around ten months old.

Mother blames the Cantonese-dubbed Doraemon that Surname Surname bought me. I was told I've been watching it ever since I have vision. Even before I could bring myself to sit. But I can never remember when I have spoken my first word. Never remember when I started to call my parents.

I often talk back at my parents then. Mother especially. She said I am well suited to be a lawyer, since I "talk so well". Petah lidah – the Malay's term. Winning at arguments and all. I was labeled as "no manners" at some point in my life.

I speak lesser, and lesser now. Speaking too much and too early then, it's getting bored and losing its steam earlier. As some said, one grew up to be the opposite of what you are then.

And I never did law.

But if I did, I'm sure I'm better than that lawyer who probe the coroner lady in the Ah Hock's case.

Tele-fun: You Want My Phone?

Tele-fun: The First of Many, continued.

This job got me my first phone and number.

It was a used, black Motorola that Once a Turbo sold me at the handphone shop he's working at that time. Couldn't remember the model. It comes with battery that looked like four AAA-sized batteries taped together in two columns. It was so heavy and huge, my pants looked baggy.

I know it was hidden somewhere in the house, but I couldn't find it. Tried Google it instead. It's not even archived in the Net anymore. Wow. Was it that old?

I pampered myself with a better phone later. The only phone that Kyocera sell here, the TG200. It was the lightest phone then. Gaya kan?

I'm still using the same number up to now. And don't ask.

But I can give you the Motorola if I can find it.

An uncle with a surname

We have an aunt that separated from her husband long ago. I was only a couple-year-old, few years before Bro was born. I don't remember seeing that uncle of mine. Later, she met a new man in her life. They never got married. Just living together.

This man, is our new uncle.

My parents and friends call him by his surname. We, Chinese are so used to add an "Ah" at the front of names. And that's how people call him.

The first time I saw him, my parents were at my aunt's flat to dropped something off. We were in Father's beige, carburetor-ed Datsun. My uncle just got back from work. He came by, and said hi. I was told, this is yi jiong, and Mother asked me to greet him.

Mother's elder sisters are called yi mah. The husband, yi jiong.

"Oh! Yi jiong!"



I never remember the term "yi jiong". It is unfamiliar to me. I've been hearing people called him differently. And that is what I supposed to call him too, I thought.

The next time we were there, I greeted everyone as I was taught. I then saw him. With high spiritual attitude, and manners I thought would make my parents proud, I greeted him.



"Ah Surname!"



Mother knocked on my head. Father told me off.

He defended me. That doesn't bother him. Ever since, my parents always reminded me to call him properly. I still ended up calling his surname. Up to a point, he told them to let it be.

As we were getting closer, I call him Surname Surname.

No matter how open-minded a person is, it is still not right to call your elders by the name. I tried calling him yi jiong a number of times. I can't – it sounded really, really weird. I guess he felt the same too. We were so used to the "improper" way.

When Bro learn to speak, he was taught the same.

We still call him that, even up to now.

kmotwdbttyl

It is by far, my personal best.

No, they are not gibberish. I was meant to say,

"Okay. I'm on the way already, baby. Talk to you later."

The most concise text I've ever written.

Yup. She got it.

The shy thing

The shy thing that we were in has brought us places, on time.

It has weaved through traffics, at times of emergency.

It has scaled countless roads, highways, and potholes, up north in Penang to the south of Malacca. And it will continue to do so at untouched territories.

It has screeched the many tight bends of Ulu Yam and Genting Highlands, in dim lighting.

It has brought us home safely, after venturing into unknown corners.

It has burned rubbers at the speed of over 180, in a short straight.

It has survived numerous traction lost, both on dry and wet.

It has clocked an amazing 300,000 km, and it will clock another 300,000.

The shy thing, is Slow White Poke – a 1991 Toyota Corolla SE Limited – still in its original pearl white.

Remember that.

What's for lunch?

Had our banana leaf rice recently at Bangsar, after a long, long time.

Even longer for myself – when was the last time More Than a Cycle is still with us? It was even way back. No kaki to eat with lah! And we rarely had the chance to group up.

It was a long, orgasmic lunch. We came back with a heavy head, and bloated stomach. There goes a button. And so, we had a conversation about having a banana leaf restaurant here at the mall…

Hell, no! Handsome agreed, too.

What makes it special is it's not readily available at the mall. Craving for one would take an hour to have your first munch. This include braving out from the lunch congestion, looking for a parking spot that does not exist, intimidating other patrons for table like the All Blacks' Haka dance, and scavenging the menu for orders.

Yes! The exclusivity of it!

Many envy us for having to work in a mall.

Amenities, yes. We have everything. Food, no. We have too much of "finer" dinings that we, office dudes don't need. We always ended up to that same handful. So that the other handful would be a tad more… special.

Our daily "What's for lunch?" will always come with, "One of those lah…". And by "those" are the "handful".

Meals at a mall isn't cheap, too. You shoppers would know better. Having a 15-mark is common. This 15 is also the lower median. We can still find half-edible-half-full meal for 10. These are set lunches, mind you.

For a better 5-ish food, we can find at the food court. Which for numerous times, strongly rejected. This only work as tapao food. Tenants cook in the circulated air-cond environment – imagine your smell after lunch. Even tapao you need to have a skill of a grade-A assassin – identify, kill, go. 10 minutes. Flat.

And the grass is not any greener than your side.

Booby trap

I was lightly tracing her skin with my fingers.

Baby then blurted this out,

"I'm gonna put a mouse trap there next time! No… I'm gonna put a scorpion!"

"Even before I slide my hands in, the scorpion already stung you lah!"

"You're so evil!"

"Yeah what! Scorpion konon... No! You know what's better!? A mouse trap... but the glue trap!"

"Not worth it lor! Your hand will stuck there forever!"

"That's the whole point!"

HAHAHAhAhAHAhAhAhAhAhAHAHhAhAHA...

Fuck! I tearing up just by thinking of this!

She's so~ adorable…

Still

Still breathing.

No. I'm not occupied with love/life/work.

The PC gave way recently. But managed to salvage my files.

My other source of going virtual is at work, my father's computer, Sis' lappie, and the household iPads. Very inconvenient. It's not that the iPads are being used all the time, but writing stuff on it is damn tedious. Anyone of you tried writing a long-winded post with an iPad? You'll get the drift.

The Memoir of an Escort is written with the iPad. This update. So will be the next coming ones. Until I fix my comp. Until I have the cash. Until I have less commitments.

Fuck! Slow White Poke need a fix, too!

The Escort

Baby invited me to join her colleagues for karaoke.

I'm more of an instrument guy.

I pluck some strings, and blow – who doesn't? – the recorder in primary school. Not to mention the things from kindergarten. The triangle. The handheld, palm size wooden clapping thingy. And the wrist bell thing? I don't even know what all these called.

But when it comes to singing, it's a big no-no for me. Never was. Never am. Never will. Eventhough my subconscious violently refuse, I've tried. And failed that many times. Well… let's just give the show to the privileged.

Have I been to a karaoke place? Of course I had. I truly enjoyed it! By just listening. As an audience. At a corner of an unexplored section of the room. Devouring snacks. Drinks. While puffing smokes. See? By the list of things I've blurted out show that I really enjoy it. 

I admired well-sung songs. These talented bunch are amazing. And I'll just keep mums and endure the bad ones – I'm as suck-y if not worse – who am I to criticize?

In the karaoke scene, I'm the kind that mic-hoggers termed as "The Escort". The one that accompany a client sings in a dodgy karaoke joint before venturing into a lustful act. Not that I've been to any, but that's the closest to define me.

Yeah. Escort, me.

Karaoke outing cancelled by the way. Phew…

As much as you've reminded that you can't sing, you can never run away from, "Come lah! One only! Just try lah!" and other similar variance. And it will lead to the awkward silence and blushing towards the end of the first verse. First verse.

Oh. I hum while strumming the guitar, though.

And don't ask.

Yet another quickies

I'm penning this down on B's PC, at her cube, in her office.

For the past month, this is how we spent our weekends together.

Her agency's network is in the midst of conducting training for their new staffs. It's a global alignment - all agencies under the same network will have theirs in their country.  The classes fall on the weekend. A 9-to-4. Not inclusive of extra hours spent on discussions and assignments. To the end of November.

Being in advertising, long hours are given.

Some of the very little time we got to meet up is after work. That in mind, sometimes it's already near midnight, or long after that. And the least I could do in the weekend is to send her to the office, and pick her up after class. Occasionally, lepak in the office when I'm done at my place. Or spend that little short time cuddling in bed.

Yes. I'm longing for a hand-to-hand stroll at a crowded mall, a meal at a fancy yellow lighting restaurant, or even, a movie at a cinema - like all couples do. I know she's looking forward for the same too.

But it's all these quality times that made us appreciate the companion even more.

We termed this, yet again, not sexually, our quickies.

Spaghetti, vodka & a...

And so, my brief was answered.

The proposal was a pre-launch campaign in a form of an on-ground activation. Brilliantly planned idea. Gotta admit, suits are slowly taking over the role of creatives.

A day before, my buds were planning to have steamboat. I asked her to tag along and do the birthday activation on the next day instead. It was one of the very few times I brought a girl out on a "couple only" outings. At least I can loudly say now, I am not a light bulb!

Came the night, and I went to picked her up. Got in the condo compound and made my way to the parking near her block. Apparently, I was at the GM of Porsche's spot. That's an added value to Slow White Poke, no?

While waiting, she beeped.



"Wanna do something crazy?"

"How crazy?"

"Let's go Malacca!"



If I were younger, I would probably reject the offer. Even stop at "crazy" for all I know. Guess I lost out of being young, I started... craving for these kinda random craziness at an older age. It must be mid-midlife crisis kicking in. It must be...

Excitedly, I texted away...










"Let's do it!"



Not long later, we hit the highway heading south.

The journey was overwhelming for me. Her perfume. The smell of her shampoo. And the aroma of a home-cook meal. Made the night driving a tad more pleasant. Not to mention, her songs compilation in her iPad, those little small talks and laughs, and the ciggy-sharing along the way.

At one point, she blew her own cover of making me spaghetti!

Oopsie... now we know.





We reached Jonker Street nearly 10. Scaled the stretch scouting for munchies before stopping at a small bar along the stream. The night breeze and the smell of the river are so soothing. Maybe, it's the companion.

Had my spaghetti overseeing the reflections. You still wanna ask how it tasted!? It's great! A little salty, though. Nevertheless, it's pork, it's stimulating to the taste bud, it's orgasmic!

After a bucket of stouts, I looked over my Tissot, it's already after 2. We decided to spent the night at her friend's place. We took turn to shower. And she offered her gym singlet to me. A little girlish, but what the heck! It's so comfy!

I poured some Smirnoff to the remaining of the Coke we bought earlier. Continued the night with more chats, teases, and giggles. And it got tipsier by the second. I was subtly playing with her fingers, calf, feet, and toes.

The next minute I know, we were just breathing inches away...






























Yes. It involved lots of lips, tongues, and saliva.

For the longest time, it was hell of a roller coaster ride - I know what you're thinking - but, no! Not sex. It's the state of mind. One moment, I was sober as fuck like I've never touched any alcohol. The next, it felt like blacking out. Wobbly. Spinning. Warping, even.

And it was so magical!



It doesn't matter who stole whose kiss, knowing I opened my eye to not a dream.

And I came home fighting hard not to show my grin.

Job briefs

That's how we talk.

I was poking on Facebook. There's this one girl that caught my eye. So I looked through her photos. Then, her info - it was one of the most detailed profile one could possibly put up. And the thing about me is, if there is nothing better than a mere "Hi!", I wouldn't even bother.

Scanned her details, grabbed 3 lines, and penned a story.

It was short, and I wasn't expecting a reply.





After two days, I woke up with a bitten bait.

What surprised me was when she mentioned, "creative copy" while thanking me. That's a jargon only ad people use... wait, wait... is she in advertising? And I hope I'm not talking to a copywriter, or a suit - they are extremely hostile when art directors write. Being a grammar Nazi is one of it. We also annoy them with our writing to some extend. Some.

She gave me a brief. Came with terms like, "tone & manner", "direction", "big idea", et cetera. Now... she is in advertising! The "client", gave me work on my off day. Come on, lah! But it's definitely a fun to-do!

What's the brief about? Getting to know her better.

I scanned her details again over the week to grasp some ideas, and started writing after couple of days. As I was halfway writing the "ad", "client" changed "brief". Not the first time, though. And I've actually lost count the number of times she changed her profile. After the millionth time, I just fuck it. I wrote the ad based on her initial info, from my memory.

I sent my TV script in a form of a cheesy, 3-minute infomercial.

She bought the idea! And I was required for a preso!





The presentation is held on the coming weekend.

I got the meet-up mixed up. If I can coin the term "meex up", I would.

I was waiting for her at the supermarket. Yeah, yeah, I know! But there's a cafe at the supermarket - I asked the information counter, okay! But the meeting is at a proper restaurant, that goes by the same name!

After half an hour, I thought I was fucked on a date. And the line was so bad I can't even text! Breathe in, breathe in - everything's gonna be fine, Birthmark - now, breathe out, breathe out...

I asked for the WiFi code at the café, and dropped her a message in WhatsApp. Fuck! Really!? Wrong place ar!? I grabbed my stuff and paced my way to the Italian. I was so embarrassed. And I think I was blushing. Hope she didn't notice.

It was a great meal! We had a few pints too.

Being me, I was rather quiet - all dates' public enemy no. 1 - but the beers did help.

One chat led to another, she asked about my birthday. In fact, it's just less than a week's time. And since she knows how to cook... a little, I shot my brief to her! Ha! Ambik 'gkau! Backfire!

Nah, I wasn't expecting for a gift. But just toying with the idea of job briefs. You know, a client being a client. A nice one. Well, maybe a little nasty.

Yeah. That's how we talked.

Quickie

There's only so much I can do.

Got a brief for a :15 TVC cutdown. Fifteen! One. Five.

Every part of it is important! The story. The close-up shot. The consumption. And not to forget, the last 3-second of mandatory - product shot, masthead, Facebook page icon, and corporate sign off - and still, client complained there are not long enough!

What's the point of having a 15-second? Might as well do a montage slides than wasting airtime. It's like having sex without foreplay.

We already have a :20 cutdown.

I remember hearing every single person who are involved in this project had at any one time, cursed at it. I'm not aware if I've blurted out any "fucks" looking at the commercial for the 3,564,164.3th time. Under my breath, maybe.

I've timed every single storyboards I've made. If Tissot has a prize for the most presses on the stopwatch function, I could've won something.

Before I bleed my eyes to death, I made a rough cut on my own. Yeah, this is it. Not gonna look at it again.

How does it look? Saying it a quickie was rather underrated.

Imagine you're having one of the most passionate sex, and you're about to reach an intense orgasm, your legs cramp.

Itu macam lah...

The piggy bank

It's really a pig. No, I'm serious.

She even has a name. Again, I'm serious.

Bought it with an ex during the Year of Pig. There are 3 sizes. We opt for the largest - twice larger than average melons. We named her PiPi. Explanation upon selected request only. Request form at the bottom, 30 working days to reply.

We treated it like a "baby". It was so serious to a point, she warned me if any one of us broke it, we are through. Embarrassing stories. I'm blushing even by just thinking of it.

I got the custody when we part ways. PiPi was so well fed, we can't even nudge it. And that's only halfway. What's more, she was placed at the top of the wardrobe. Moving her would not be practical.

When we started, it was with random coins. After a while, we thought smaller amount don't make much difference - we decided to put in only 50 sen coins.










Five years later... *voice over by Morgan Freeman*



The coins were popping out the slot. And that was early of the year. Decided to change it before Bank Negara say the old coins cannot be used any more. Remember our MYR1 gold coins?

It's even harder to move it now. Moreover, to bring it down. Carrying it over the shoulder - though I'm not good in gauging weights - it definitely feels like carrying a bag of rice. It may sounds fun, but I have no intention to break the piggy bank - I still wanna use it for the new 50 sen coins...

It was so heavy and densed, it broke upon arrival on the mattress. The weight crushed the bottom of the ceramic into powdery substance.

The first night, I stopped at 500. All 50 sen. Sis helped me with the rest. After day 3, I have over a thousand Ringgit.

R-I-P-PiPi.

Mindfucked chat

Remember my friend, Lei San San?

Besides annoying me with her "questions", another level of her mental torture are the random changes of topic. So fast and prompt, yet looked relevant at first.

We were chatting in Facebook the other day. She was stuck with the template in eBay.



"I still have no idea how to use eBay."

"Explore slowly lah..."

"Have to lor! But if I still don't know, can I ask you?"

"Er... I don't even know anything about eBay. I can't help much..."

"I mean, I will use Adobe to do the layout. If I still don't know, I'll ask you."



Oh! So she's asking about Adobe lah! Then this came right after.



"I send photo to you, okay?"

"Er... okay?"



She sent it through Whatsapp while still chatting in Facebook. So, I guess I'll have to transfer the photo from my phone to the computer before I can do any touch up?



"I got that. What you want me to help with?"



Oh! She just wanna share her baby's photo lah...

Really? I mean, really?

Chat emotion

The most commonly overused, sometimes, abused term on the Internet is "LOL". To those of you who still doesn't know what LOL is, you have my 5 minutes of silence. May you rest in peace.

LOL. Laugh out loud.

Yeah, right. How often do we actually made a single decibel when you typed that? Okay, okay! I'm guilty as charged.

I've never used "LOL". Mine was "hehe", and "haha". But the lips are as flat as the horizon. If they goes beyond the second "he" and "ha", I started smiling. With luck, might see some teeth and jerks.

The times when I actually "laugh out loud", with sound, I don't bother to type because I just can't. I'll make sure to enjoy the joke first, settle my cramps, and wipe my tears, if any. I'll shoot a random "hAhAhAHHAhhAhhA" to the joker after. Out of manners and courtesy lah.

It's hard to gauge what the person on the other end feels at times.



"Fuck you lah."



Cursing is common, off- and online. Up to a point the fucks doesn't make any difference at all. Take the above as an example, and interpret it into, say, Malay. It's more like, "Pantatmu~" for all we know. The tilde is there to give it a whimsical tone. How about Cantonese? It could be something along the line of, "Diu nei, mm koi~". So good manners. Tilde for the same effect.

If you are angry, tell me lah. I can't see you. I can't listen to you. Let me know. Stress your angerrrrr. Yes, that's right. Stress it!



"Fuck you lahhhhh!"



With exclamation, if you will!

Talking about punctuation marks, I have a friend who... how should I put it? Rather lazy to press the Shift button and question mark. As if that extra press will uses up most of her energy and strains her muscle. What really annoys me the most when talking to Lei San San is the one-liners. Please note that she came to me.



"Working"

"Oh, okay..."

"Busy"

"Er... okay..."

"I didn't go work today"

"Huh!?"



What are you trying to tell me!? Wait...

Oh! Who would have thought she was actually asking if I'm working and busy!? I've lost count how many times I was mindfucked. And for that many times, I've scolded her.

She is still, the same. Epic.

Ber-Tenaga

Finally, it's all done.

I'm the proud owner of The Home. Mortgage another story lah, of course.

That aside, I'm actually impressed at the professionalism of Tenaga.

No. That was not sarcasm, really.

If you agree, one could loudly say the professionalism in government (linked) departments is a myth - the tidak apa attitude. But after what I have experienced today, it's not an urban legend after all.

Armed with hope, and all required duplicates and forms-filled, we went to the counter only to be disappointed by a system down, halfway processing the transfer. We left the building with a pout and frown.

Barely 5 minutes of driving away from that area, the same staff called. Twice! I missed the first one.



"Our system is back online! You can come back and finished it!"

If you agree again, even if the system is back on, they wouldn't bother to call. Not stereotyping, but true story.

Thumbs up to Ahmad Fazira, if I got the name right. +1 to Tenaga KL-Utara, Sunway Technology Park. And thank you so much for calling back.

On a separate note, I noticed the staffs here are of younger generations. Attentive, and very proactive. Most importantly, also speaks fluent English.

Though good things like these rarely happen, it's worth a pen.

Let this be a record in the Internet.

There is still hope.

Mad Valley

Recently they blocked the road at the south for the construction of don't-know-what-eco-fuck mall and/or an exhibition hall.

Huge diversion of traffic coming in and out of the ring. For those who are not working here, big confusion as they are hesitant in a life-death situation of should-I-turn-or-go-straight moment. That split second creates a wave effect all the way to the adjacent roads around the area.

Monday, like the title suggests, madness! Mad-madness! It was pouring almost the whole day too.

Half an hour into the crawl, I called up Handsome who an hour earlier asked if I wanna have a dinner / drink as he's stuck in the parking - I declined, my bad. Thought the traffic will be better when I leave later - he has just left the barrier at the exit. I then called As Long As Her. She already tak tahan, and went back in the mall.

It took me almost an hour.

An hour from level 6 to level 4A! The ramp of 4A that is. The ramp to level 4 is just a couple of cars away. I can almost smell the paint on the wall of level 4. Almost.

I swerved out the line and park at the first spot I see. Met As Long As Her at Kim and have a drink, while looking at the almost non-moving line of cars.

We left after 9.30-ish.

Some observations throughout the week.

Tuesday. Where is the traffic? Nice!

Wednesday. What is wrong again!? Even worst! People from G and H aren't allow to move over to the Gardens side of the traffic. One, big round to get to wherever you wanted to go. Glad to have stayed up at the office, looking down at the ants.

Thursday. Where the fuck is the traffic? Is there some sort of a game they are playing on us?

Friday. Too drunk to even bother.

For those of you who wants to come over to shop, don't!

It's a trap in here.

Cannot be

"Eh, bro. I gotta go up for a while. Copy check. Be right back."

" 'kay, man."



I continued to chat with the headhunter.

Yes. Half a Macha and yours truly met up with an agent from a reputable, industry talent agency. They dug my details online weeks ago. We've been so caught up with campaigns back to back, haven't got the time to even breathe until now.

I referred him as my partner. To go as team. The interview was not so much of which big boys has opening, but more of an initial get-to-know. First impression thingy lah.

Half a Macha came back not long after.



"Hey, bro! Mama-san wants to see you!"

"Oh, shit..."






























An hour later, I'm back at my cube with a noticeable crescent. I can see Half a Macha's teeth clearly piercing through the dim lights. 12.5 increment for me. Gonna update our salary to the headhunter soon. Anyhow, it's still can not justified the works we have done these couple of years.

We nodded and catch a beer at the end of day. We are still dreaming if we get to step a foot in Brother & Brother abroad.

But did my boss know something's up?

Pure coincidence lah kan?

I'll be (s)watching you

I got my first Swatch 25 years ago. It was a gift from Father.

1987 was also the year I stepped into school. It has been a good companion throughout my primary days. Not to mention, the bragging rights and attention I(t) got - numberless watches are rare then, at least in my memory. Even I can't tell the time correctly. And look at the design. It's in during the mid-80s. No?

Not until recently I found out it's a ladies!

Talking 'bout the mid-midlife crisis, eh? Remember me being a "talent"? Retrostalgia strikes again. I've been searching for it...

I went to collect my Tissot at the Swatch Group this morning before heading to work. The auto-wind went cuckoo recently. Have to masuk kilang a couple of weeks lah. Since I'm there, I asked if they still make old models of Swatches, or had them stored anywhere. Just hoping high lah.

Attractive Attentive Malay lady, by the way. Hmm...

Anyway, they don't.

Swatch only make limited numbers of the same model. Even if you're looking to replace the strap on an older models, it's impossible. Unless you wouldn't mind changing to other strap designs.

Yes. I did write an email to Swatch. Thank you for asking. They tak layan me lah. I have yet to hear from them. I used my work mail, you know? Very professional on my side.

What happened to mine? They are disposable accessories, as quoted in Wiki. It breaks down. The strap snapped. The battery leaked. It turned yellow. Yes! The body is still in this house somewhere the last I saw it!

I guess some things are meant to be carved in memory. But no harm trying, right? I'll bug them again like how I bugged Brand's.

And there's no prize for guessing my age.

Poker face

"Eh... is that a tattoo on your neck?"

"Yeah! It's been weeks."

"I'd always wanted to ask, but just wasn't sure."

"It's a self-reminder, Aunty."

"What's the meaning?"

"Remind myself to be more vocal. To express more."

"Good! Agree! You should!"



Aunty K, being the motherly figure of her, telling me just that. And begins a warm lecture for me to open up. Am I that introvert a person!? Am I that not expressive!?

*Poker face*

I shouldn't be doing advertising!

Las Vegas, here I come!

Inked

It's a on-and-off kinda steam lah.

The thing is, I don't know what I wanted.



My name? Every other person is doing it.

Tribal? Nah. Pilot 4+2 did a modernised tribal on his arm - angular as opposed to the organically shaped ones. That would be nice, if it's big.

I love Yakuza's. Only if it's sleeved. I don't want that huge of an art. Not just yet?

I like Iban's floral patches too. But I was told you need their permissions to do that. Or you'll be head-hunted. Thank you for that.

Bar codes are dated then. So I thought of QR code. But what should I link it to? My Facebook? My portfolio? Or my number? AR code is totally out of the question. Maintaining an AR engine is expensive. This kinda "code" tats will have the same fate as the bar codes later.

Here's an interesting video of a guy who did a QR code tat linked to a Youtube vid of an animation. "First Ever Animated Tattoo" is a misleading title.









The Pair did a couple-tat recently. One of the many that I can see on their body.



"When's your turn lah?"

"Want meh!?"

"A designer must have at least one lah..."

"... a pair of double quotes...?"



Some weeks later, we were having some beers after work. The suits brought two ladies from the mall management to join us. One of them had tats, which triggered the topic. Half a Macha has one on his left calf. Planning to get a new one, and asked if I want to join him. Despite being a little tipsy, the "double quotes" came into my mind again. A little more specific this time - at the front of my neck.

Why double quotes? Why neck? I didn't know, until recently.

Even the tat artist thought I was crazy for having my first one on the neck. Bro labelled me as "hardcore". The one-week anticipation is killing me. Even more when I'm lying on the recliner. Can't get any worst when Since Primary Two telling the tat artist to give me hell, while Fun Size standing outside the room giving me that smile.

With the needles buzzing closer and louder...



"Oh, fuck. Oh. My. Fuck..."






























Huh? What? That's it!?

It's not that bad after all! There are some spots which are more annoying than pain. To a point it's irritating. I have to stop chatting to hold my breath in. And don't believe everything you read on the Internet. "Neck is one of the most painful spot to have a tattoo.". Konon.

What's in between? Nothing. Just the Adam's apple. Just a self reminder.



"Don't keep too much things inside. Express more, Birthmark."



The reason why I started this blog in the first place.

Different people have different pain tolerance, but you can quote me for the painless process.

A small bit of China

Zoky was supposed to go with the then-boyfriend.

They broke up not too long ago. It's non-refundable. Needed a replacement on the queen. Yeah, how you all wished. She later changed the rooms to twins.

One photo a day for the five days I'm there.

Backyard garden of a once corrupted mandarin.

Bistros and pubs at Shanghai.

Wuzhen. An ancient water village.

Wuzhen at dawn. Traditional wedding exhibitions.

An alley at Hangzhou.

I'm back a happy man.

And don't ask. Nothing happened.

A simple nod

"I have not pay the balance to the valuer, you say!?"



When the property valuer were asking for a payment, not once I have missed a call. The bank is rushing them for reports. They are doing a job. Which is fine with me. I paid, and sent a copy of the bank draft. And thank you for reminding me for a report done. I paid, and again, I sent a copy together with the earlier draft.

That was two weeks ago.

Not once I get a ring / text / email / snail mail / pigeon mail / Morse code / smoke signal if they got it. Not once on both payments. Not. Fucking. Once.

Since the figure was discussed over the phone, there is no black and white. I clearly stated in the mail to confirm the deposit and balance. Nada. Till the bank called today. I forwarded the bank drafts right after. And begin a series of complaints to the valuer. Kena fuck kau-kau lah this valuer girl.

She texted later at night for my postal address. Also sent the same message to my mail. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much for waking up.

I really appreciate any, I say, any kind of acknowledgements.

Just a simple nod to make the world smile.

Sunday

With much enthusiasms, I reached slightly over 12.

Unfortunately, I left my tags at home.

For over an hour I was at a kopitiam, armed with my Tissot Classic and boredom. Saw a red. Peeping through a sheer white dress. Cheek length. Somewhat perky. Almost an upskirt.

For the next eight or so hours, I was alternating between my desk and the studio artist's. Checking the visuals. At times, adjusting it on my own. Facebook. Facebook. And more Facebook. Somewhere in between, Since Primary Two tempted me with a Klang seafood suggestion. How I wished I could leave early.

Ended the day with a long awaited, overly priced bak kut teh - client's bill.

That's my Sunday. My beautiful Sunday.

May be long

Not dick. I'm all width and curve.

What you read recently are random slots in between. On a bigger picture, I don't even know where to start. The good? The bad? Maybe, the ugly?

Since Shades left, things are really different with Almost Blind. He is much more intense. Both good and bad, depending on how you see it. Every one of us will have his / her time with him. But thanks to all the ranting and shoulder-lending, we survived.

Soon after, he left too. Our new lady boss brought in a contract-based ECD / CD duo from her ex agency. Half a year for half a day. Half the pair, at times. I would say we are on a wobbling, captain-less ship. True to the heart, no one knows what is going to happened after six months. It's like a dating game.

Many left. Those who are still clinging on, are still looking. Me, no exception. I got an offer at a hot shop through a headhunter which I turned down. These happened in a span of just two days. From the interview, to hiring. Yeah, they needed people that urgently.

The team that I used to know are left with Half a Macha and As Long As Her. Even Diam-Diam that I worked closely with since day one are leaving to pursue her own interest. In fact, Half a Macha almost left. We decided to cling on after some bro-talks. We have been through the small shops and mid sizes. If we're stepping out, we'll make sure to knock on large doors. I don't want to go through these all over again too.

We've got a dream brief from a new client. Briefs like these are so rare that many creatives might not get it in their lifetime. If we manage to pull it off, it will be a talk of the industry. If not, we got nothing to lose. Just take it as David and Goliath. We are David.

Got my appraisal recently. I've worked hard for the past two years. I expected for a big raise. I've even updated the management of the intentions and offers I got, before and after the appraisal. Fingers crossed for now.

Business are booming. New clients. More projects from existing ones. Replacements ada, but not enough to fill the lost and gap. Looks suffocating, but not once I have to work late or on the weekends.

Well that's a lie.

Worked once to midnight. Once up to 2am. And once at 7.30 in the morning for the past six months. Not a day on the weekend. Not bad for an agency what! New bosses, new ways of working. I love it now.

On a even brighter side, I bought my first property.

Fun Size's parents shifted there last year. And said I will love it. Had a visit on their Christmas party and I fell in love with that place. And so the scouting begins. With the value of money that we had now, many said it is hard to buy one. I couldn't agree more. My savings are almost dry up.

Not to forget the stacks and stacks of legal documents that I need to initial on. Fast forward to today, I've just signed the last piece of document.

Thank you!

Diamonds & dogs

A friend posted this on Facebook,

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend. Dogs are man's best friend. What exactly these tell us?"

Being the... naughty me, I wrote...






























"Women like it hard. Men like doggy-style."



No offense to men and women out there ar.

Just trolling around.

Ant 1, Me 0

We have a bigger pest problem at this place.

Not rats, but ants. At least is was a problem for me. I hate ants. Not phobia, but they just send shivers down my spine even by just thinking of it.

I don't see a single one the first few months I'm here. Not until the ex-producer left some months back. I noticed them after she packed. It is said that ants make nest at the weirdest place.



I've seen them in Father's old jogging shoes. *Goosebumps*

Under a piece of untouched wood plank. *Shivers*

Old, thick Oxford dictionaries. *Goosebumps, shivers*

In bags of old clothes. *Goosebumps, shivers, goosebumps, shivers*

In long, untouched corrugated boxes. *Goosevers, shibumps*

Found them in the computer's motherboard! *Bumpsgoose*

And here,

Shot this during the recce at Pullman, Putrajaya.
They are a centimeter in length! *Brrrrr...*

Every now and then, I would see stray ones crawling lost in their track. On our desks. Monitors. Into our mugs - oh, come on! I've only gulped half. Under the stack of layout pads. Inside the keyboards. On our arms. Everywhere! *Goosebumps*

I've lost count how many I've killed along the way. It's those species that emit a kind of smell.

The ex-producer's place is in front to the left of my cube. The ants spread onto Diam-Diam's, More Than a Cycle's, and Aunty K's place at the back of us. Diam-Diam for numerous times blamed I brought them back to the office. She still does.

Now the whole office seems to be infested by them. Aunty K brought us some poison granules. It worked only for a while.

How do I get rid of them lah!?

Ay, ay, ay!

Photophobia.

Visually impaired.

Colourblind.



Is it me, or it's a curse for top creatives to work here? Is it a coincidence? Is there some sort of a paranormal calculations some where that made these people end up here? Suspicious, isn't it?



Shades.

Almost Blind.

Our new ECD.



All these people had eye problems.

Long way there

We had a 9-to-5 training at Cyberjaya today.

It's been ages since I got to wake up for non-leisure at 7-ish. Was supposed to leave by 8, but Little Pinay left her place late. Picked her up at the LRT when she reached and floored our way there. Was doing red lines at the MEX's straight. Slow White Poke can't take anything more. She was shivering at 180.

After some 50-odd km, we got there just in time for some breakie.

Had some sandwic... *fast forward* Change, is inevita... *fast forward* ... this will be the new framewor... *fast forward* ... ciggy break... *fast forward* ... any question about thes... *fast forward* "Don't take the Tandoori Chic... *fast forward* ... took some phot... *fast forward* ... engage these crowd... *fast forward* ... Enjoy your weekend!" said the Strat. Sheesh...

That's just to sum it up. Nothing too interesting to pen them down.

It rained earlier. Making the tarmac burn even more. After waves and waves of heat that hit us in the evening, we decided to have some beers before we call it a day. And since our lady boss belanja, so why not lah kan? Half a Macha gotta leave early, so he dragged me to his car for some puffs and small talk before he take off.

*Slow motion*

I was then tasked to drive another 2 more people home. *slow motion* Lady boss and my new ECD. Shit! *slow motion* All the way to 2 different spots at Bangsar. *slow motion* And dropped off Little Pinay at Jalan Ampang.

Did my 0 to 100 in *slow motion*.

It was a longer way back. When beers and herbs are involved.

Fairly potent mixture.

Tele-fun: The First of Many

Tele-fun, continued.

Yes. I'm the one who call you in the middle of a meeting / sleep / meal / poop / pee to waste a fraction of your life into an irrelevant questionnaire or survey. My apology if you have received a call from me before.

It was some time after I did my round in the retail. Since Primary Two is already working with Halfway Up the Top of The Cloud for nearly two months. They needed an extra hand.

It was my first decent job. Full time. Ironed shirt, and slacks. Choking necktie. And cubicle kinda decent.

A 9-to-5. With overtimes, allowance and other claims. We were the more rebellious batch. Rolled up sleeves. Loosely hanging tie. Unbuttoned collar. And I'm the first who wear short sleeves to work. Casual Saturdays, but strictly no short pants. I was forced to take off my ear studs too.

The job was pretty simple.

Just call people up to attend a product preso in the office. Our part was not to sell you anything. That was the salespeople's dirty work. We just go through a set of questions to determine if customers are qualified. If they met a certain criteria, they are invited to the office. Free gifts are given.

Besides the basic, we have commissions. Some telemarketers can easily earn thousands with just the commissions alone. But this isn't my thing.

I've never met my quota of 24.

Angpao vs. age

Nath inspired this.

Instead, I'm making a graph.







Agree?

Am I right?

I either got this from:

1. Pressing the arm against my body weight while getting up from bed. Or the floor. I thought I heard a snap.

2. Spraining the muscle from spending 3 days in a row sandpapering the excess putty on the front lip of Slow White Poke's bumper - a DIY moment gone wrong.

And this post was written entirely left-handed.











No, of course not. I cheated.

Another 16 hours to go.

Choose one

Rat-bitten LAN cable. Unstable wireless connection.

Nia sing. Not the bloody first time, though. Can't Mickey just leave it alone!? I used to laid them on the floor. Tracing every corners, angles and curbs, from Father's room to mine. Tripping every human being alive.

Guess I have to do that again.

Not to mention the forever dropping wireless. Shiok-shiok streaming vid halfway, and it got disconnected. I have to re-stream all over again. It would be lucky enough to even post this.

Sigh.

Attracted to older women

We refer her as jeje, sometimes, kakak.

Being the most senior in the creative, she is no doubt, a big sister. Creatives who can survived telco clients, can technically do any accounts. She had six dealing with the Blue Telco.

Phoebe is one of the first senior creatives I met during my breakaway time from conventional agencies/design houses. She was with Ousted Brothers, when I went for an interview. Though I didn't get a stint there, over the time, she texted me of places that is looking.

Over here is the first time I worked with her.

A very nice lady indeed. Soft spoken. Easy to deal with. Rarely shows her temper. Attentive. Straightforward, yet constructive and thoughtful in her comments on works. A trait that many creatives do not have.

Two years passed. She's no longer with us. Will definitely miss the chats, jokes and "games" we played off-work. But we do keep in touch every now and then.

I was in the midst of knocking on new doors, and we caught up in Facebook. Got an interview with the CD there. Apparently, she was a buddy with the MD back when they were starting out! It's a small, advertising world. Nasib baik I didn't offend anyone before.

She was texting her MD-buddy. At the same time chatting with me.



"I don't mind pre-selling you 'cause you behaved well. Don't know why... I see you as a boy-boy..."



This really made me smile...





Did the title pop your eyes? Not in a sexual way, okay!

I find myself clinging closer to them. Being born the eldest, I've never had the chance to know how Bro feel - to have an older sibling looking after and protecting you. I've always wanted an elder sister.

I don't know... maybe it's my subconscious way of looking for security and comfort which I never had as a younger sibling.

Why not?

It was a fairly innocent trip. It was.

My ex texted to have her photos in Hat Yai removed.

People been questioning her of my "appearance" in the trip. Friends. Families. People. People with serong mind. People with cavemen thoughts.

What I don't understand is, why didn't she tell them she was going with me in the first place? I thought she did! I told mine! What's with the secrecy!? What is there to hide? Can't two people who were in a relationship before have a trip together?

We. Are. Friends. For fuck sake.

What perks me up is when she mentioned an average people would have any tagged photos removed on request, no questions asked. Out of... respect. I couldn't agree more. But not after months it was up there. Not after she was being pressured from the misunderstandings from her not telling anyone prior to that trip.

I didn't blame her. What some say of people still living in the past is not a myth.

And going out with your exes is still a taboo. Take note.

But the photos are there to stay.