In the blood

Any Malaysian with Punjabi friends would know that Punjabis have matchmaking in their every blood cells. Everytime they see an eligible single person, their mind will automatically think of another single eligible person of the other sex that would match the eligble single in question.

It's almost like a reflex.

So,what happens when a Chinese girl is caught between two married, well meaning 'matchmaking-is- in-my-blood' Punjabis?

One was excitedly informing me about a new recruit (Chinese-Male-28 year old-single-witty-handsome-perfect for you) that'll be joining the company next month, and was trying to show me pictures of this said fellow.

I tried to protest by was interjected by the other Punjabi. 'Shu, do you want to be single forever and die and old maid?!! You better come now before the Planning and Purchasing girls get him. '

I hadn't enough wit for a good retort.

Boy oh boy. I bet this is just the beginning.

Time O Time

Close friends and family will probably bemoan the fact that I'm bringing this up again! I've been hit by nostalgia, melancholy and deep musings over the past month or so about the passage of time and how fast it (time) flies!

It's going to June soon. That would mean half a year gone, half a year to go, half the time to achieve what you set out to achieve, being halfway through achieving the goals for the year. It's bad that I actually comparmentalise life into years. Somehow, this year has been a year of change for me - its hard not to look back and see how different it's been from 2005, and looking forward to more changes in 2007 that its hard not to see it as different from this year. Am I making sense?

Anyway, by the end of today, 2 things would change. American Idol 5 has been crowned *rolls eyes* (and btw, Taylor won.) and my TOPCIMA exam, for which I've been attending classes on weekends will be through by 5pm this afternoon. Unless I fail, that would be the last of exams for the next couple of years.

No more exams, no more weekend classes, no more industrial studies about Caffe Nero. More time to exersice, no more excuse for eating fast food and no more rushing home by 8pm on wednesdays. No more nerve-wrecking results show Thursdays.

Life will be so different. I'm so excited!

(Then again, that would depend on how exciting The Apprentice is this season! Hahah)

Ten Things I Miss About England

In no particular order

1. Thornton's Ice Cream!! - The double scoop (2 big FAT scoops) of rum and
raisin, and toffee.

2. Sainsbury (supermarket) - Love it! Love it! Love it! aha!

3. The British Wit. Almost everybody is funny in England.

4. Believe it or not, Leadmill! It's a dance club that plays different music genres
on different nights, everybody spills drinks on the floor and home of the most
facinating dance moves one could ever have the privilege to see.

5. The parks. There are parks almost everywhere in England, but my favourites
would be Norfolk Park (where I'd spent so much time!) and Primrose Hill.

6. Fish and Chips - I wish I'd eaten more of that.

7. The London Underground.- Full of character.

8. Cafe 22A. It's a little cafe hidden along one of the smaller streets in Sheffield,
sells the most delicious strawberry cheesecakes.

9. Pasties - esp the brocolli and cheese ones.

10. A million things are vying for the tenth spot. I need to get back to you on this one.

Size matters

I was in a cybercafe in Lucky Garden last weekend, and there was this dashingly handsome young fellow who was approximately 25 years old (just a good guess), looked sufficiently intelligent and had the most melodious American accent and a beautiful baritone voice.

Well, I know, because he was talking to ( a good guess again) his girlfriend/wife over Skype.
So yeah, he was in a cybercafe, cooing words of love in a very loud (baritone) voice and declaring his love and devotion to this (errrmmmm...) very lucky woman.

'I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself before I met you. Now, the sky seems gray, I'm this depressive little boy and I miss home so much. Totally. I guess I'll have to learn to survive for the next couple of weeks, and I'll prob go to the gym to kill time until I go home to you again'

*bblluuueerggghhh*

'Little' and 'mommy' are two words that I personally think, men should not use to describe themselves/associate themselves with. Little personality, little boy, little... well, little anything(!!!!) is NOT sexy.

Neither is reference to your 'mommy' a turn on in any way. 'My mommy said....' can really, really feel like a splash of ( a really big bucket of) cold water.

Idol Fever!!

It's sad to say it out loud like this, but YES, I'VE GOT THE AMERICAN IDOL FEVER.

I rush home from work every weds to make it for the 8pm. If my favourite contestant Elliot performs well, I watch the rerun at 11pm.

Then on thursdays at noon, I defy the company policy of surfing the internet during work hours and check on Yahoo! if Elliot is safe.

I am tempted to dive into a discussion about why I think Elliot should be THE next American Idol, but I'll refrain.

But Do, Do Google him up instead!!!

Poor but happy

You know that old saying - poor people are happy people?

I've been tired and overworked and bummed the past couple of weeks.
Today, I went out to buy some birthday gifts, and spent HOURS at a bookstore and then combed a bazaar in the sweltering heat. I walked so much that my legs ached, I bought so much that I had so many bags I could hardly carry, and I spent all the money in my purse! To top it off, I had a delayed brunch of pancakes and coffee, and bought some flowers for the house.

Its self induced poverty, but I love the world again!

Of course, I had to go back to the office after that to finish a report due on monday. But that's a different story.

Therapy

Matthew McConoughey. Failure to launch. White Shirt, tanned muscular body.
Big yatch. Tanned body. Rock Climbing.

2 hours of cinematic bliss.

Little Miss Routine

Hey......

Its been a while since my last post. I was inspired to come in and write something funny while driving home from work, but now that I here, sitting in front of the computer, I can't remember what that funny thing was supposed to be.

I just realised two days ago, how much of a routine I'm in and how tired I am of it! I work mondays to fridays, from 8 bloody am until about 7. When I get to the office in the mornings, I turn on my computer, open an Excel spreadsheet, make a mug of nescafe and work. During the day, its Excel Spreadsheet after Excel spreadsheet until I leave the office.

Its ironic. In my pre-employement days, I longed to have a routine to wake up to. But now that I actually have one, I dislike it.

Don't get me wrong. I like my job a lot. On good days, my senses tingle from the things that go on. Sometimes I even get a good adredelin rush (shit, I can't remember how to spell the word. )
BUT, I abhore the routine. I hate the repetitive dateline (report A every monday before noon, report B every tuesday before 10.15am). I dislike people breathing down my neck, I hate looking at itty bitty details when I don't want to do it.

I don't like to conform, especially when I am expected to do so.

I hate the thought that a 9-5 job( and all that comes with it) is a lifestyle that one can unwillingly and unknowingly conform to.