Spongy in the brain or not, I still wanna get my picture taken with him so hey!! Check out this picture. You can see the whole of the half of the front of my head!! Coolness..

If I were to exchange the word ‘wretched’ there to something more accurately descriptive of her; it would take one whole blog entry of its own and once you read the entry; I am absolutely positive that first you will laugh your head off and then we will all vomit blood together.

Let’s just say that our 31 year old very nice very good buddy started to be in a relationship with a girl he knew from Friendster without actually meeting her, only talk on the phone and chatting together on the net. Though she is in my Friendster list; I too have never met her, and only know about her from one or two times he asked me for an opinion about her.

Until today; I do not even know the girl’s name except for her nickname on Friendster, and the last time he discussed her with me; neither did he! She also would not let him know where she works, and where she stays! They both are living a few kilometers apart in different cities in Selangor but she simply refused to meet him. Have you got the gist?

When he decided to dismiss my negative comment about the strange girl and continue to fall very deeply in love with her, I respect his decision, wish them happiness and just let them be. After all what can I say? He did not approach Azman, when he should have, Azman is his close friend from years ago in Asasi; besides he is 6 years my senior, I don’t think it’s really appropriate to advice someone that older about relationships.

When our friend was in cloud nine he changed from the sporting, nice and funny dude to a very solemn person; a whole world of differences from the loveable friend that have always known. In last December he broke the news of being transferred to work in Borneo for a whole year. Much to his new solitary life; Azman and I decided to throw him a farewell dinner, just us and him with perhaps a couple or more friends.

Now if you were to throw Azman a party would you not invite me? Or if you were to dine with Datuk K would you forget about Siti?

I dropped the girlfriend a message in Friendster to invite her to come along. She declined because she had other arrangements. Very well then what can I say. This happened in January.

A few days ago, the boyfriend approached me in yahoo msgr. And he scolded me! He scolded me for making his girlfriend sad!!!!!! I shall repeat that, for MAKING HIS GIRLFRIEND SAD!

I demanded to know what the hell have I done. He could have answered perhaps I said something wrong to her but nope! He said

‘You tell me!’

Like hell lady! Stop playing dumb; you have hurt my girl’s feeling so you better admit it! Or ‘Sendiri mau ingat la!! Lu kacau awek gua baik lu mengaku aje!’

My jaw dropped to my chest.

I confessed inviting her to the farewell dinner and God knows that was the last time I got in touch with her! I thought hard but could not think of any other time that I have communicated anything to her.

Can somebody please explain to me there are people in this world who find invitations to their own boyfriends’ farewell dinner so bloody offensive until they got hurt so deeply three months later they still cant get over it and send their boyfriends to confront the biatch that did the inviting???????

The urge to vomit blood is very overwhelming.

We are aware that the boyfriend knows what kind of people Azman and I are. He knows that inviting people to dinner is the most natural thing to do; he knows we have friends over for makan-makan all the time but it hurts me much when he ask me not to bother and to leave all the party arranging alone from now on.

Oh how I have sinned.

Just when I could not believe he was saying all this things; he started to state the most unbelievably hurtful things. He explained that the wedding present he gave us was actually from her. Same goes with hotel stay at Penang that he had for attending our wedding was also from her.

So, what did he want me to do? Pay for it back?? Thanks fellas for the present! and I have now learned that paying for wedding presents can make someone an untouchable Goddess. She paid for our present so we must not invite her to dinner. Because that kinda thing irretates her.

And this came from our beloved friend. I am sad. We are sad.

I do not believe the invitation was the actual reason a fully grown up adult came attacking me. She must have made up some stories. I don’t wanna know what that is. She is lucky I am not a freak like her.

However ladies and gentlemen, they are published not because I would like to share them with you; BUT it is only because I felt like blogging at that time though I had nothing to blog about.

Besides my Father in Law at the kampong is very IT savvy, may he happens to view this website, I want him proud to note that the accelerating development of his son’s waistline and tummy is highly contributed by the clueless Daughter-in-Law-in-skimpy-jeans’ cooking.

This entry however is in a different league. I assure you that I am absolutely not kidding when I write it because Mel ( melvinnaqy@aol.com) has dropped a msg at my shoutbox requesting for the recipe of the “The Ugly Stick Cookie” or more commonly known as “Kuih Batang Buruk”. Except in Malay the name sounds slightly vulgar.

To Mel, I found this recipe from my cookbook and I am yet to try it. May be u can give some feedback once you have. Enjoy!

KUIH BATANG BURUK

Ingredients for the pastry:
400g wheat flour
200g grated fresh coconut ( only the whites) & toast till golden brown, let cool and grind finely
2 table spoons of rice flour
1 egg beaten
2 teaspoon of baking powder
Salt to taste

Enough water
4 tablespoons of margarine
Cooking oil for frying

Ingredients for the filling:
200g green bean

180g castor sugar

Methods for filling:
Roast the green peas in a wok without oil till fragrance. Once cool, grind together with sugar and put aside.

Mix flour, toasted coconut, rice flour, egg, baking powder, salt and margarine well.
Add water and mix into nice dough. Cover the bowl with damp cloth for 30 minutes.

Roll out small amount thinly and cut into small rectangulars (2cm x 3.5 to 4cm). To shape the rolled out dough into cylinder use the stem of a papaya leaf. (God knows where to get this thing so I guess if you can’t find any I think a chopstick or a thick pen will do)

Ensure the dough is not too soft else it will not keep its shape. Fry in hot oil till golden.
Once cool down, stuff the filling inside it.

Today I had the best kickboxing class ever. I am convinced that I have totally burnt off the calories from that sinful macadamia cookie crust that I consumed yesterday as the topping on my 3 scoops of heavenly hazelnut chocolate ice cream. I am very encouraged to proceed burning the ice creams fat next Friday after my weekly visit to Famous Amos.

On top of the successful fat burning endeavor, at the gym today, I was also infected with the commonly found syndrome called the Nostrilbloom Syndrome (malay – Sindrom KembangHidung) which I rarely experience except during the time my mother in law said my spaghetti sauce tasted damn good (its preego she didn’t know). It recently happened to my colleague Rena too here when we said she sounded exactly like Inul Gerudi when actually non of us know how Inul sounds like except maybe Bani caused I saw him watching her belly danced several times on youtube. But then again he had the speaker turned off completely. I still wonder why.

Anyway, back to my story, the nice instructor lady made us introduce ourselves one by one before we started. When it came to my turn I said my name is Diyana, work a couple of blocks down, married (and in the attempt to be funny I said) with a baby but unfortunately my baby is a cat. Mentally I was referring to Azman’s imaginary kitty, Si Cemong.

Some laughed, some said they have cats too, another asked if I take the hormone pills to lactate and feed my kitten.

But my instructor dropped her jaw. She spoke with utter disbelief expressing that I, Puan Diyana Yang cannot possibly be married because I, Puan Diyana Yang is very comel.

Comel is cute in Malay.

Lalalala!

Though I am truly not very cute but I do get those kinda compliments from nice sympathetic people around me sometimes when they want something from me but the fact that she thought that I am a young girly virgin got my nostril flared pretty good.

She made my day.

Lalalala!

Have a nice weekend.

My assistant Bobby ( not his real name) is getting married. I am very fond of my assistant. He is very efficient, hardworking and helpful. When I ask him to use the thick Annual Report to crush the back of my head whenever he sees me falling asleep on my desk, he will instead use my ridiculously huge laptop! To ensure I don’t go drift back to sleep, he shrieks loudly

“that one is for screwing my appraisal, you skinny pig!”

I always jump wide awake immediately! You can never find a co-worker as sweet. He even calls me skinny!

Sometimes, when he goes out to the run important office errands, he brings me back lotsa delicious cekodok pisang; and it takes me just once of threatening to report to the HR about him installing the cctv at the ladies’ and snooping on me smoking pot in the loo.

When Bobby takes 2 weeks leave for his wedding receptions, the world comes crashing down on me. Not only have I lost the touch of the most talented graphic designer of the company in my blueprints but I also seem to lose the loyal bearer of my bathroom slippers.
I emerge to a state of hectic busyness till I forget to read all the messages about Friendster closing down sent by my intellectual friends. I think there are about 50 of those messages in my Friendster inbox now.Today I need to send close to 200 units of blueprints to our corporate members by post. I also have a dozen more articles to write. The clerk has to cover for the receptionist and the tea lady is too busy serving vodka to the board of directors in the meeting room. While dancing.

So who is gonna lick the stamps?? 200 stamps? And place the blueprints into the envelopes? And paste the mailing address on the covers? Who? Who? Who?

I can now feel the energy released from chemical reaction between particles of salt crystal while they combine and change into the substance of fist size stone in my bladder. Because I don’t have a chance to take a piss yet! I dont even know when will I get my ganja dose for the day! And its 10.27am already!

Yes, those pictures are real. Emi took them. Nope the story is not so real. Bobby would never call me pig!?? That’s a haram animal ok? He calls me baboon!

Congratulations on your wedding Bobby!

This is what I found at the office. Can you spot the not?

After much gawking I had moved on to laughing hysterically before I gawked again this time trying hard to methodically search for the source of the diamond shape damp. Did she wee-wee, had an accident and wet her skirt?

Being a female myself, I know very well that is not the spot for a wee-wee accident. Relative to that, around the waistline you can also find the same dark blue spots. So it can’t be a wee-wee accident and must definitely be a true case of perspiration!

That is my theory and I must say I need second opinion!

With the assistance of my colleague Liza (while laughing like mad), we have concluded that if you do not want to sweat on your sheshe; do not sing in very high soprano voice. Liza is very analytical; she even includes the possibility of an overly bushy bush causing the matter.

Please bear in mind that this is only a suggestion and the scenario above is just our proletarian hypothesis influenced with very sick humor.

However, we do strongly believe that Rexona needs to transfer their prominence on the glorified armpits and start introducing a new range of deodorant because some people just sweat among their bushes!!!

Wahahahahaha!!

The reason behind the abnormal positive behavior is we wanted to go to the Malaysia Flora Fest 2007 that was gonna start at 8am in Putrajaya. By the way that’s where my office is. The festival and the Floral Parade were held in conjunction with Visit Malaysia Year and the themes focus on unity and multiculturalism is in line with the country’s 50 years of independence. I think holding such carnivals in Putrajaya is way much better than at the Merdeka Square due to the fact that the Malaysian national and legislative capital is very spacious, clean, modern and beautiful plus I can leave our car at my office’s car park for free. Hehehe!

There were 18 floats all together and my favourite is of course from Penang State ( my home state); Terengganu State and Sabah. The Diyanazman Most Pathetic Float award went to Perlis State; you should check out their’s; it is as big as a Kancil! Wow!

As you can see, getting up early on a weekend is really worth it after all…

5 hours ago I cooked dinner. Now I realized that if I can get my hands on whom ever discovered that chilies are edible; I will scratch each and every inch of skin on their body till it bleeds and then I will slowly rub chili juice onto the wound. Thick chili juice. Chili juice that are made from this nasty red tiny berries!!!

Aaagh! From plain pain to annoyance to misery and I am now very angry.

I am typing this with hands that are burning and paining like have been poured with carborane superacid that would decompose even the hard hard cold heart of President Bush.

Why? Oh why? Why did I have to include these nasty chili slices into my cooking? Why?? Just why didnt I think of using radioactive proof tools while cutting and washing them? Oh,how naive I have been. Sob. They look so tiny. Sob. Chilies,they are so deceiving!

Look at what they have done to my skin?! It is hurting like I have never felt pain before. I have been running around the house trying to fan my fingers, I put my hands under running tap water every 5 minutes, I have rub each and every kind of cooling skin moisturizer that I possess. And my hands still hurt.

I am currently switching from typing to dipping my hands in a basin of ice water in order to cool them down. And all of this to my skin that is not even close to being delicate!!!

I don’t know how long will I suffer the consequence of attempting to impersonate Kylie Kwong. Listen to me now everyone, do not ever; not even once; endeavor slicing bird eye chili without wearing the thickest gardening gloves you can get your hands on. Trust me!! I come from the land of hot and nasty spices. You must protect yourselves!!

Bukit Tinggi is just about one and a half hour drive away KL. It lies some 2,500 feet above sea level but it was warmer that I expected it to be. After the long winding road, we reached the ticket booth and they charge RM 16 for adults and RM 8 for children below twelve. That was RM32 for the both of us.

Colmar Tropicale at the top is a bunch of (poyo) buildings from a north-eastern village in France dating back to the 16th Century. I have to admit that they were quite pretty.

The programs they offered at Colmar Tropicale were frustrating. I don’t know what the 16 bucks for. You still need to pay quite an expensive price for karaoke, bowling, even for using the battered pool table. The only thing that was free is the live band show, but the singers looked like anorexic prostitutes and they sounded like those American Idol wannabes from Seattle. I would rather not watch for the sake of maintaining my healthy appetite.

There were a few side walk cafes and restaurant but they weren’t inviting at all. There was a clown but all it could do was make stupid animals out of balloons. I mean hey!! You are a clown; you gotta do some juggling or ride a cycle or something.

We didn’t take long time strolling at Colmar Tropicale. The drive to Japanese Garden took only 5 minutes away. The garden was actually on the other side of the hill and it was surprisingly raining over there!

First we went to check out the Japanese Garden and I think it’s very unique, very different from the rest. I like the small but deep pools with colorful koi swimming around. I wish we can have something like this in our house. The Japanese Garden offered a facility for renting kimonos and that costs RM20.00 per person. There is also a spa but it was closed for the day.

The time was already 5.00pm. We were taking our time enjoying the fresh and cool air while taking lotsa pictures too. Next too the Japanese Garden, going down the slope of the hill was the Botanical Garden. I was a bit hesitant to enter but Azman was pretty keen. Both gardens were actually a small piece of land nicely landscaped but completely surrounded or fenced by dense jungle. No kidding! Just check out the tall trees in this picture.

The time that was getting late and the sky that was drizzling lightly; making the atmosphere very misty, almost romantic. It was getting darker. As we walked down the cobblestone steps admiring some exotic plants; we heard a short rustling sound in the heavy shrubs about 5 steps down ahead of us. The shrubs were stirring lightly. Assuming that was perhaps caused by a monkey shocked by the two Homo sapiens, we proceed happily.

But there was this green twig; horizontally about 2 feet long; with about 6 or seven large leaves growing from it had grabbed our attention. It was swaying tad too violently.

In fact it had been shaking violently non stop for a full one minute. No other leaf or flower or branch around it was moving and the wind was not blowing at all. The twig kept on swaying. Azman and I completely stopped at our track and just stared at the freaking twig. I was searching for the cheeky monkey. Nope, no monkey around. The twig continued to move. Left right left right; it never loose its momentum. Can a plant be so flexible? Can it be so bouncy? The twig was still shaking. The magnitude of its movement did not decrease even the smallest degree.

So we stand there staring at the dark bushes waiting for the twig to stop shaking. Or at least just appear to stop shaking. But it didn’t. Three minutes had passed. That’s when I should just slap Azman on the mouth. He said

“Why is the twig not stopping? Hey, I think it’s a ghost over there!”

like, why are there so many reporters? Hey, I think its Britney Spears over there.

I didn’t say a word; I just stared at the frail little branch and its leaves. And the twig swayed continuously. I hate the fact that what Azman said was begining to insanely making sense. Yes, Supernatural is my favorite TV program but I believe in science and can somebody pls tell me how can that thin twig kept on swaying so aggressively when the whole thick equatorial jungle around it was standing still???

Right when Azman expressed his very smart opinion one more time, I shrugged, told him he was being ridiculous and continued walking while the twig continues shaking nevertheless.

Four to five steps down, I looked over my shoulder at the spot and the tiny branch had joined the rest of its leafy friends being still. It has stop moving. Totally. Not an inch. Not even a little jiggy-jiggy. Freaking weird.

I don’t know about Azman but while we walked through Botanical Garden, I just couldn’t get my scientific mind to stop analyzing the situation. On the steps while we were climbing out of the garden suddenly I heard praaakkk! A very loud sound from atop the trees and all I realized was Azman pulling my hand to run before a huge, yes this time it’s a huge wooden branch fell almost on the spot that we were walking.

Could have fallen on top of our heads.

Not until when we were in the car, driving back home, the discussion about the shaking twig was brought up. I was surprisingly not afraid, maybe because my husband was beside me; but Azman was still in need of a good slap on the mouth. He was bitching on and on about forgetting to video tape the whole thing and it could have been really good to feature the video on our blog.

On Monday at the office, I told my mates about my xfiles experience and my boss casually told us that at the Japanese Garden, sighting of a pontianak happened once too many times. Only at that moment, the hair behind my neck raised eerily.

I am quite a skeptic but I honestly cannot figure out the incident and I just wanna take the opportunity, to say that

“Dear Pontianak Bukit Tinggi, if you happen to read this that means my blog’s rating is getting higher and I thank you very much for not showing your face to me. And if you were the one intended to drop the heavy branch on top of my head the other day, I hope you won’t do that anymore, it’s not very nice”

First ask me about when I will get pregnant for more than 5 times in a week. Then launch a lecture on why we should have a baby as early as possible each and every time we meet.

On top of that you can also tell me how to plan for my life in vivid details expressing the well known taboo saying that if a lady delays her pregnancy for a few months; chances are she will never get a child at all. Please tell that to me as though my highest education level is standard 3 mid term exam and there is not a slightest chance that I may even be smarter than you; in which you just don’t know it because all these while I have been respecting your feelings!

For best result (the pontianak of me will not only haunt you but your next 7 generations as well); you can teach me the optimum way of MAKING A BABY. Please do it casually as though you are teaching me how to make cekodok pisang, make sure not a speck of shame sprinkle out of you while blather on and on about the dos and dont’s of getting conceived.

And while you are at that, don’t forget to ignore the utter look of repugnance (at this point I begin to reach out for my samurai sword already and beginning to despise you very-very much already) that is displaying on my greenish blue face.

If you believe in a lot of other extremely stupid taboos and ridiculous tips of planning your baby’s sex according to the orbit of the moon, don’t hesitate to teach me, I will automatically puke not only blood but use my toes to tear out my ears as well.

For implementing above methods, please utilize all the channels of communications that are available in this century, not only when meeting me face to face but when you call me on the telephone, by text msg, by yahoo messenger and hey! Don’t forget I do check my mails regularly!! So write me at length all about there-is-nothing-in-this-planet-that-you-can-do-but-be-obsessive-about pregnancies!

The last time a friendly soul did this to me I did not wait till I start to puke. Instead I just avoid that freaking person all together. So I guess these simplified methods not only applies when you want me dead of compulsiveness but simply if you just want to get rid of me or me getting rid of you.

Happy Trying!!