Long ride #1

If it isn't for GoldFish, I wouldn't be coming in here. And for that, I thank you for buzzing me. No prize, yeah?

How long has it been? 8-freaking months… a child could have been born! I don't even know where to start. The next best thing to do is to cross-check with Facebook – chronologically correct, at the very least.

Baby and I went to our first concert - Metallica! Thanks to Half a Macha to spare us the free tix! Shy to admit, it was my personal first, too.

Back at work, we did the largest activation of its kind for The Milk last October. Not too proud of the project, though – adaptation and localized from the Thai counterpart – client's directive.

Having to do not-so-good work, you need better work to keep you sane. Glad to have churned out a good regional campaign idea for The Kiwi with Little Pinay – portfolio worthy! Regional being .my, .sg, .id, .th, .vn, .ph, even the home country of kiwis, .nz! I'm just lazy to type all the countries out lah! But keep an eye for the yellow kiwi ads June onwards.

On a separate note, Baby's client, The Wheat Cereal, has numerous times praised "the agency" that handled The Kiwi did so well in selling a boring product. It will be a benchmark for their ATL agency. I know, right? I'm so full of myself. *grin*

At least I left a name and a blazing trail.

Yes. I left The Agency in January…

That sweet spot

I am close to our new account manager. She came in to take up The Kiwi account.

Being the lead art director for devouring kiwifruits, I unfortunately, became Jom Joget's favourite. And it's not that we have that many ADs and designers left – did I mention the agency just laid off 8 with immediate effect recently? – beggars can't choose.

We are like the office buddy kind lah. Talk cock, sing song, gossips, and all. She also has the tendency of Instagram-ing random stuffs and tagged us on Facebook. I've lost count how many of my stuffs alone are tagged.

I was having heartburn the other day. Skipped work. Being the kecoh Jom Joget as she is, she wrote on my wall of how she missed me. And for the record, I rarely take sick leave.

Baby all this while never feel comfortable with the taggings. That wallpost, really pisses her off. She came home and told me off. Kena lecture lah. But I'm not even angry at all.

At the end of the lecture, she soften up. Voice lowered. To a point it looked a bit… manja? When I promised her to do something about it, she just nodded… in a very subtle way. Like wanna nod, don't want to nod. Macam yes, tapi bukan. If words could describe her look, I would.

It's a sweet spot I rarely see in her – things I love about this woman.

How my 1 year was spent

Eating roti banjir at the mamak. With the companion of a Milo Ais.

Lazed around the couch in the office. Trying to get some nap.

Rushed over to 1U to dropped off some documents for Baby's friend.

Went back to the office couch and once again, trying to get a nap.

Failed to book a movie. They are either too far, or too late.

Met up with the boys for a couple of pints.

Came home with a heartburn.

Dragged myself outta bed to get meds and MC at 5-ish in the morning.

Woke up with blood in the phlegm.

All these because of my fucking mouth.

How pathetic.

Happy one year to me.

All white

It's been two weeks since the agency moved.

That is one of the many excuses why I've been slacking off in writing. Packing, and unpacking is a very tiring thing to do, especially when you're juggling between ongoing jobs and pitches.

It was a Friday.

Yours truly is one the first batch that reported to work early in the morning. Yes. Deadlines. My Mac was setup even before the packed cartons arrive. The rest stayed back to oversee the movers with our belongings. Being a social media addict, I posted a pix to preempt the gang before they comes in after lunch.







We took over David in PR's office. They were moving a floor up. Coincidentally, they have a staff count of 23. We have 23 minus the Finance and IT. We, cramped in nicely. They left us a 5-year renovation, and workstations that come with built-in shelves and drawer – David is our sister agency under the same umbrella – you'll get the drift.

Oh. How's my old office looked like?

We've settled down. I have settled down.

I like the new office now.

Two wrong statements

When 2 statements should not be put into the same sentence.

"Go toilet… (looking at me) Nak hisap?"

"Bro! You make it sound so wrong, wei! Never do that again!"

Baby Suit wanted to go to the loo, and planning to have a smoke after that.

Ubolt Sain

Was having a drink with Pilot 4+2 the other day.

Catching up and all lah. And so, watches came into the picture.



"Check out this watch brand – Ubolt."

"I didn't know Ubolt Sain came out with his own line of watches…"

"Wha… who?"

"The African athlete lah…"



Laughs came after the awkward silence.

He was talking about U-Boat watches.

And I got the runner's name wrong.

That kid in school

Remember that kid you hated so much in class?

The one that complains and brings the parents after every single small thing? The one that raises hand the quickest for cikgu after being teased at? The one that reports you to pengawas and guru besar for the slightest of menace? The one that made you wanna lastik them so badly?

Yes. That kid! And that kid has now grown up.

So, what's this version of the "teachers' favourite" do in my agency? – Pulls the management card.

If only killing is not illegal.

A 5-feet text

We were exchanging texts.



"How you feeling, beautiful?"

"I feel sick…"

"There's this girl here with a red cardigan… she look pretty."

"Really? Prettier than me?"

"As pretty as you… Well, I can't decide. I might fall in love with her if it's not because of you…"

"Oh, man… you are so easily seduced… not loyal! Now I have to think twice!"

"Of course not lah. Like I've said, I have you already."

"You better choose now!"

"I don't have to choose! I'm yours! I love you."

"Love you too, B."

"How you feeling, my love?"

"Feeling worse. Which is why I'm here. Can we cuddle now? And scare the people around us?"



I went over to her just two seats away.

Baby was at the clinic after work waiting for me to get her. When I got there, there isn't any seat left. It wasn't dramatic of me moving beside her, but it did confuse a couple nearby.

Yes. She's the only one in red.

Things that company can never sell to me #16

Anything 3D.

3D TV. 3D movies. 3D whatever.

The thing is, you'll need a 3D glasses to truly enjoy those. Which I don't. I'm a full time specs guy. And no, I don't wear contacts. So? I will have to wear that 3D glasses on top of my glasses. Which is fucking ridiculous – I look like an idiot – from being a sei ngai zai, to a luk ngan kuai.

Until they've invented screen which can project 3Ds without the need to wear cheat with an eye aid, no money from me.

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.