Campbell Alexander.

I've read My Sister's Keeper.

Finally. I mean, after being so caught up with Lost Girls and Love Hotels.
It's a very touching plot. I'm looking forward for the movie.

Here's an extraction that's not so moving. In fact, it's hilarious. This book has got good feng shui- it's very balanced.

Campbell Alexander- a ridiculously hilarious character- is the attorney Anna went to to file the lawsuit against her parents. He has a service dog called Judge, which roused questions among the other characters, since he wasn't blind. Although the sole reason for the service dog was because he was epileptic, he would say:

• "I have an iron lung, and the dog keeps me from getting too close to magnets."
• "I'm nearsighted. He helps me read the road signs."
• "I'm a recovering alcoholic. The dog gets between me and a beer."
• "I have SARS. He's tallying the people I infect."
• "Color-blind. He tells me when the traffic light changes."
• "He translates for my Spanish-speaking clients."
• "He's a chick magnet."
• "I'm totally deaf in my left ear."
• "I'm a lawyer. He chases ambulances for me."

Pussy.

There was an article in the June issue of CLEO magazine that deviated me from all the other contents of the magazine.

Damon Syson wrote:

I have a confession. I've always hated women who own cats. I hate these types so much, I even wrote an article called The Curse Of The Cat Woman, which started: "Eight out of ten men prefer women who don't have cats." At the time, I thought I was being clever. But I got my comeuppance when my mother moved abroad and I was left holding the pussy. Overnight, I became a reluctant guardian of a 12-year-old feline named Pudding. That was eight months ago. Since then a terrible change has come over me. I have horrifyingly metamorphosed into... a "cat man".

Men -real men- shouldn't have pets. We should be free to throw a few clothes in a bag and hike off to the Himalayas at the drop of a hat. If we must have a pet, it should be a large, faithful dog- more of a furry "mate" than a "pet".

My cat never leaves the house and is extremely demanding. It's a good job I've already got a girlfriend, because looking for one with my newfound responsibility would be a nightmare as I have to be home by midnight. If I'm not, there's trouble from She Who Must Be Fed. And what if a prospective partner actually came home with me and saw me in cat mode? It wouldn't be: "Oh, how cute." It would be: "Sad weirdo- get me a cab."

And that would be a fair appraisal. The symptoms of my felinophilia are distressing in the extreme. I talk to my cat more often than sanity permits. Mainly in a special baby-talk cat-language ("Oh yes, you've missed your daddy, haven't you?" but occasionally also in miaows.

Then there's a large amount of cash spent on cat presents, such as a vast supply of addictive crunchy biscuits, fake mice, gourmet cat food (as a special treat) and a top-of-the-range "scratch pole" (basically, a piece of wood with rope around it, for her to get her claws into).
Working from home and having a cat is definitely not a healthy combination either. I kid you not- I've been known to play"hide and seek" around the flat with the cat when I'm bored.

But the most distressing thing of all is the fact that my girlfriend is becoming increasingly jealous of Pudding. At first she found the addition of a fluffy creature to our menage fun, but now she's losing patience. Soon there'll be an ultimatum- it's me or the pussy, Buster.

Doesn't help that Pudding has taken to sneaking between us at night. In her latest jealous outburst, Kate shouted: "I can't stand it anymore. Just because I'm not white and fluffy!" Equally worrying is Kate's threat- allegedly in jest- that she's going to drive Pudding to the highway and drop her off on the outside lane.

But the thing that worries me is this: could my feline fetish signal the beginnings of an urge to settle down and have kids? Maybe it is about time Pudding learned her place. I mean, for goodness sake, she's just an animal, right? Still, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have got this obsessed by any old cat. It just so happens that Pudding is the most beautiful cat in the whole world and.. Oh my, I'm getting worse.

Yes, those bolded phrases are the ones that I love. And laughed so hard at.

It's amazing this came from a guy's perspective because the male species of the earth hardly has the time (and a heart) for pets.

Party Pictures.

I finally got hold of Jun's party pictures.

This was after a game of Pictionary game when Soorah's team won against um, the guy (I'm pretty sure Soorah and Jun have mentioned his name) seated on far right.

Upon invite, Jun told us we could bring a plus one.

At that moment, on top of my head was Nazreen.

So I IM-ed him the night the invite came in.

Me: N, my friend's having a birhday party. Do you wanna be my plus one?

N : Who's your friend?

Me: Jun.

N : Do I know her?

Me: If you come with me you would.

N : Could I at least see her picture?

Me: *sends picture*

N : Omg lawa gila!

Me: Yes.

N : Tak nak lah pergi. Tergoda I.

Me: Kalau tak nak pergi then cakap je la.

N : Oh, don't go about that way....

Oh, the friends I have.

Show and tell.

Scrapbooking is almost (I say this because I don't own a Xyron nor a Slice machine. And a photo printer!) my forte.

And I should say I'm proud to be a youth scrapbooker because the scrapbookers I know either have plenty of kids (I say kids because they're either toddlers or babies) or have the title 'datin' in front of their names.

So, this is my show and tell.

Scrap page 1: Reunion!


I scrip-lifted this from one of the scrap magazines because I had no idea how to layout these pictures. It's a splash of colours. I used every single 'On A Whimsy by Fancy Pants' papers I have.


Scrap page 2: Shutter bug.


Caroline Ikeji made this awesome collage of 24 1"x1" photos of random stuffs she snapped and thought I'd do the same with my random snappings.

And I branded myself a shutter bug.
Hah.

Scrap page 3: Serunding.

My sister has this hype for serunding and she will eat serunding on its own, instead of with ketupat and stuffs.

And she doesn't share!

Scrap page 4: Smile, Simon!


Scrap page 5: We Are Family.

It's hard to get a shot of the whole family together from the recent Colmar Trip so I grouped individual pictures from the trip to make this.


Scrap page 6: Mummy Dearest.

I finally got to experiment with the lace cardstock and created this soft-toned page dedicated to Mum.

And I traced a die cut for the title. Because I don't have a die cutting machine.

Lust.

Must it always be derived from sexual sensations?

Itch, itch.

It's impossible to blog on weekends.

I woke up this morning to a spiralling room. My head was spinning, the room spiralling and it was the worst headache ever since I downed my caffeine intake. I shut my eyes and I see *bleep*'s face.

Hangover from last night?
Hardly.
Jun's party was awesome: Great company, healthy food, good fun (Pictionary, 'I'll-push-you-into-the-pool' threats, Wii) and an even healthier mood theraphy.

No booze.

Then again, someone (I heard it was Ryan?) gave Jun a bottle of what seems like an expensive high quality liquor as a birthday gift and Nigel kept asking for wine and champagne.

Oh yeah, no booze.

Her cake was in the shape of a Chanel purse and it was delightfully cute! When the cake came out, and the crowd started singing 'Happy Birthday', Mark caught a glimpse of that cake and exclaimed (self-assuredly, I should add): "Eh, Prada bag!"
The other guys proudly corrected him. Omg, mak cik betul.

Acutely emotional?
At this point, not really. The results are out and they turned out pretty good, but slightly below expectation. MJ passed away and it only bothered me for a few hours. Malaysian Studies ended and it was liberating. Fi left for Banting already and I found out from someone else who was completely unrelated. It did put me off a little, as if I was already invisible. Arief cancelled lunch because his planet orbits around his girlfriend and it not only set me off, it is also proof of my invisibilty.

But still, I show no symptoms of being acutely emotional.

Him.
Yes, I believe so. He is causing this turmoil as a debut.

Guys are like fruits. When they're ripe, they're like these appealing and vivid bunch of fruits. And let's not forget their sole purpose of being fruits: Keep you healthy.
But if you refrigerate them for too long (even if you don't, it's almost the same thing), they'll get putrid and disgusting: Their venom contaminates your carbon base life forms.

Shit. Stupid gibberish.
Anyway.

You should've seen him. His face spells ARROGANT at first sight, but beyond his face just might be something less than arrogant.

Garbed in crisp white long-sleeved shirt, first three buttons let out to purposefully exhibit his sculpted chest. He spoke to everyone with poise (excluding me) like he owned the room and its people.
He would approach, create a conversation, keeps it up for at least 5 minutes and as he was about to make an exit from the circle, he'll flash an oh-so-winsome smile that could make you topple and says: "Pleasure talking to you, see you around."

One could easily get a cardiac arrest.

Under 30 minutes, I could sum him up to these without even having verbal contact with him. Just occasional glancing and customary human greeting like smile and wink.

1. Sometimes he rests his elbow on tables and chairs, he'll deliberately flex his biceps as he speaks to you to make sure you can't get your eyes fixed on his. You'll start to tremor, feel perturbed and then asked to be excused to regain self-control.
2. And the way he laughs! It wasn't a typical macho laugh. It sounded almost sincere as though he was laughing at something seriously funny. It was adorable.
3. He has good posture. When he stands you could see how aligned he is with the wall and how perpendicular he is with the centre of gravity. Literally.
   

N the fuckety farcical fe-male (oh how I miss a female companion) says that I am immensely smitten ('because, my dear, you could describe his everything! so, tell me about his torso..') and that I should pursue him ('that means talking to him- spitting words in his direction- and make him feel the need to excuse himself to regain self-control).

Amusing.

Fast but not furious.

Anxious.

Bloody white Gen2 was tailgating me.
But I decided to piss the driver off by going less than 120kmph on the fast lane.
After what seems like 5 minutes I let it off.
And he did.
He didn't go far though.
The car went in front of me.
He was going less than a 100kmph!
So I harrassed him.
As we were approaching the exit to Bukit Rimau the road was empty.
I was on the second lane, and he was on the first.
He was trying to prompt me to race him.
SO?
So I did.
I slingshot myself to the exit at about 140kmph until we reached the roundabout- to which I reached first.
The white Gen2 was on my right then and I saw him salute me, waved and then sped off to go straight while I made a 3 o'clock turn.

Puzzled, I nearly drove into a curb.