<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d6429848\x26blogName\x3danjalispeaks*\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://anjalispeaks.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://anjalispeaks.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-7313561392857078984', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
"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]

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.

powered by: blogger
illustration by: lionheart.bizhat.com
photo storage by: photobucket
commenting by: haloscan
linked with: blogwise , blogarama , registered! , bolehblogs , voi ,project petaling street , blog explosion & bloggernity

jakun & boon cit - the love story. not.* 

There once was an angelic looking wench *ahem* who hailed from a small kampung in an equally small state up north on the peninsula. Even though she has moved to the mighty giant of a city called Kay El many eclipses ago, deep inside her pulsating heart is still a small town girl who thrives on the small endearments life has to offer her. As the saying goes, you can take the girl out of the kampung but you cannot take the kampung out of the girl. So a jakun she remains.

Now this jakun used to own a single door fridge which has been running low on gas, and thus the temperature not sufficient to keep the chilled wonderment called ice-cream. Every time she opened the freezer compartment, she sighed in dismay.

She sighed and thought, “Ooo…I must get myself a new fridge. Must. Have. Ice. Cream. Yum.”

Up in the high heavens, God heard her noisy exhale and decided to throw her a surprise. So in a Christmas party, Jakun picked up a new triple-door fridge from the lucky-draw dip. She was elated. So much that she somersaulted to the seventh heaven. As a result, she accidentally exhibited her granny panty to everyone present. She had forgotten her lower outfit was a mini skirt. But she cared not if everyone else has lost their appetite. She’s gonna get ice-cream, at every craving, anytime, any night.

And so, she had finished 2 tubs per week since. With 3 tins of creamy corn. She had it for breakfast, dinner, supper and 3am snack. And as vitamin supplements. Sometime she wonders if she was having ice-cream with corn topping or corn with ice-cream topping. Who cares, they both tasted heavenly.

Consequence – she’s got a rounded tummy. It protrudes like a bowling ball every time she sits. And it disobeyed any instruction to tuck in when a hunk walks past. Irregardless, Jakun’s cravings persist.

This morning, as Jakun was standing in front of the full-length mirror as fully clothed as Eve, she heard a lame voice, “Hey hot stuff! Good morning!” She turned around and wondered if it was the Holy Spirit talking to her.

Nope. No one.

*Twilight Zone theme playing in the background.*

Hair rising. Strand by strand.

“Look here la, bimbz!” the voice called out again.

Then, she saw the face. The eyes made from the nips. And the mouth from the belly button on the Michelin-man tummy.

“You talking to me, ah?” she asked and then felt stupid interacting with her belly button.

“Yes, baby.”

“Who are you?"

“The name is Boon...Boon Cit."

Gawd. I so need to get an Ab-Master.

January 13, 2006 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 9:43 am