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"Is it weird in here or is it just me?" Woody Allen

HOWDY! This is a platform for me to express myself. To bare my thoughts, emotions and life stories. Leaving bite-size pieces of me before I go. I graciously invite you to comment, swap stories and thoughts. Please post your comment or get in touch with me here.


alexandra wong
lynn wabbit

09.03 10.03 01.04 02.04 03.04 04.04 05.04 06.04 07.04 08.04 09.04 10.04 11.04 12.04 01.05 02.05 03.05 04.05 05.05 06.05 07.05 08.05 09.05 10.05 11.05 12.05 01.06 02.06 03.06 04.06 05.06 06.06 07.06 08.06 09.06 10.06 11.06 12.06 01.07 02.07 03.07 04.07 05.07 06.07 07.07 08.07 09.07 10.07 11.07 02.08 03.08 05.08 09.08 10.08 12.08 02.09 04.09 05.09 06.09 07.09

a rustic analysis*
bo leh*
buat donno*
jakun & boon cit - a love story. not.*
jingling nona*
many happy returns of the day, u sexy u*
love misunderstood*
no willy*
perfect man*
save me from this misery*
tan ah yam, i'm sorry*

an interview with joe blogs*
woo! a review!*

halong bay - you jump, i save you*
hanoi on my mind*
hanoi - in search of the pain-in-the-arse ice cream and other stories in between*
sungai petani, my hometown* [pt 1]
leave my country* [pt 1]
leave my country* [pt 2]
ozcapade* [pt 1]
ozcapade* [pt 2]
ozcapade* [pt 3a]
ozcapade* [pt 3b]
moomoo vista* [pt 1]
moomoo vista* [pt 2]
moomoo vista* [pt 3]
ah moy in paris* [pt 1]

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It's funny how the word 'official' is used especially when couples decide to go steady. The common term used would be "We're officially an item now". This particular line irks Ir to the max.

"I mean, who accoladed them. Queen E, izzit? And did someone give you a certificate to officiate your relationship?"

And if you give it a thought, you'll find that Ir makes lots of sense. Why must it be "official"?


May 25, 2005 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 4:01 am

bo leh* 

Ah Bo ah, I want you to win American Idol 4
Why ah, you ask? Because you can sing so well lor
You sing with class
Make me blush
The way you hold the mike turn me green with envy
I wish I was a slinky bamboo and can hold still as the mikey
Wah liau, your a cappella rendition of 'In A Dream' ah, can kill
Make all the hairs on my hands stand still
Like they are respecting 'Negaraku'
And my mouth drool
My mouth has never opened so wide hearing someone sing
Even for my dentist, I didn't open so wide woh
That's why I say you terror lor
Had to pick my jaw from the floor
Your last fight, aiya, it's only Carrie la.
Sap sap tap water la!
To win, you must. You can. You will.
Go Bo. BO LEH!!!

Updated 27 May:

Incredulous! That's what I can say about Carrie's win. Navi said American voters are fickle. Simon said they are morons. I agree with them both. And I guess Carrie's win befits the so-called American Dream - a farm girl winning it big time. Bah! The Sun wrote that Ms. Underwood doesn't even know how to buy underwear...Shameless!

My dear Bo Bice
Carrie's win is a vice
Between all the horny American guys
or the aunties who think a farm girl winning it, is kinda nice
What a bunch of bollocks and lies
I am so upset, I want to eat fried rice!

May 22, 2005 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 2:57 pm

crop circle* 

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Yesterday was Teacher's Day. Aaaah...teachers. They are truly a unique bunch of animals, I tell you.

Well, at least that's what I can say about mine. Especially during my late secondary years. Sometimes I can, mind travel back in time to some funny incidences, to recapture the tickles. To knock on the door of the past to chirp a quick hello and bid goodbye almost immediately.

Anyway, I am what you might call as a teacher's cotton candy nightmare. But I'd like to think of it as I added spices to their miserable mundane, routined lives. My teachers and I share a unique love-hate relationship. I stick out like sore thumb.

Among the many, the one whom I truly liked most is Mr Ooi, the maths teacher. He was in his mid-30s, married, has a pretty daughter aged 4, drives a white Nissan Sunny and has the best wit for a China man. The only downside was his over-consciousness over his receding hairline.

Not a class goes by without him picking on me. On some bad days, he managed to shut me up. But occasionally, I managed to outwit him with my dare-devil sarcasm. I think he secretly enjoyed those few wins of mine. For my sake. To spur me on. To brush up on my sarcastic wit. To match his.

On one humid afternoon, he came into class. After our customary standing up and "Selamat Tengahari, Cikgu" wishes, he picked a chalk and drew a medium sized circle. Then he turned to face the class. Somehow, despite the dead-pan face, one can tell he's got something up his sleeves.

"Apa yang telah saya lukis di papan tanda?" He called on a Malay girl sitted in front.

"Bulatan, cikgu." the girl answered assuredly.

He gave a loud sigh. And then shook his head softly.

"Salah. Itu adalah kepala anjali*. Kosong." Face continued to be dead pan.

I felt my blood rising up. But I kept my cool and replied, "Cikgu salah. Itu kepala cikgu. Botak."


Dead pan face.

A deeper sigh.

Then a smirk.

Ting-ting. My score 1-0.

May 17, 2005 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 5:24 pm

new banner. woo!* 

After much persuasion, Leeds finally found time to contribute to the blog with her awesome creativity.

That explains the new banner.

It's so cool. So unique. So anjali*.

There's the purplish maroon color - to signify my love for His Purple Highness. *slurp*
Then the curly-wurly plant with unique blooms - to signify Jane, my alter-ego.
Next the black cat - to signify the love of my life now; the ever notorious Smokey.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Well done, Leeds! Am so excited I need to take a piss now :-P

May 13, 2005 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 8:44 pm


Was stealing some blogging break during lunch and realised James has tagged me.

The mechanic is quite simple:
What follows is a list of different occupations. You must select at least five of them. You may add more if you like to your list before you pass it on (after you select five of the items as it was passed to you). Of the five you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession. Then pass it on to three other bloggers.

The list:
If I could be a scientist, If I could be a farmer;
If I could be a musician; If I could be a doctor;
If I could be a painter; If I could be a gardener;
If I could be a missionary; If I could be a chef;
If I could be an architect; If I could be a linguist;
If I could be a psychologist; If I could be a librarian;
If I could be an athlete; If I could be a lawyer;
If I could be an innkeeper; If I could be a professor;
If I could be a writer; If I could be a backup dancer;
If I could be a llama-rider; If I could be a bonnie pirate;
If I could be a midget stripper; If I could be a proctologist;
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host; If I could be an actor;
If I could be a judge; If I could be a Jedi;
If I could be a mob boss; If I could be a backup singer;
If I could be a CEO; If I could be a movie reviewer;
If I could be a monkey's uncle; If I could be a bible archaeologist;
If I could be an Elvis impersonator

Here goes:

If I could be a monkey’s uncle , I’d proof that humans too work for peanuts.

If I could be a TV-chat show host, I’d bitch slap all the celeb bimbos and make them suicidal.

If I could be a llama rider, I’d work for Michael Jackson in Neverland and support his claim that riding a llama is akin to riding an angel. And how would he know that???

If I could be a midget-stripper
, I’d show that I compensate on other sizes. Hee.

If I could be a mob boss, I'd double break the kneecaps James has broken and show who is the bigger mob boss!

Let's tag Mei, Simon , Sashi and Cupcake Queen.

It's been fun, James. Thanks :-)

// anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 1:55 pm

from pulp pages to silver screen* 

Image hosted by Photobucket.comNick Hornby's Fever Pitch has finally been made into a movie. I hope I'm able to comprehend the movie better than the miserable failure on the first 10-pages into the book.

If you have no idea who Nick Hornby is, please allow me to enlighten you. Slightly. He is one genius of a writer - reading his book is like entering a life play in front of you. You get excited with the characters. You laugh with them. Cry with them. Mock them in the comfort of your sofa, with both legs resting on the coffee table. You grow with them. It's surreal.

If I am a cannibal, I would love to eat Nick's brain. Maybe stirfry with young ginger and spring onions. With sprinkles of cooking wine. Haa.

But no worries...I'm a basic meat eater. Don't go for human flesh or brain. No monkeys either.

If one were to ask me how much I adore Nick Hornby, I could say maybe a mindless mindful adulating fan. Close to being a stalker, if I am residing in UK. Or even being unduly obsessed? Yaa...possibly. That explains why I have a collection of all his books! And I've read them at least twice (with the exception of Fever Pitch, of coz!)

A Nick Hornby movie = a must watch! Especially when it's directed by the Farrelly brothers. Definitely. Woo!

Can't wait!


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Update 12 May 2005 : *piaks* Okay, after much hantam-ing from most of you, I have decided to do some homework...so please accept my humble peace offering. Nice billboard, eh?

May 10, 2005 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 8:34 pm