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.