Twenty Fifth

I know that you cursed me, because I sneezed so much just now. I know you're mad at me for not replying your call. I know and I know how you wish to chop me on a chopping board right now.

"I'm sorry dear! My bad, sincere one this time"

But then again, I can explain, I didn't realize that my phone credit expired until the last minutes when I was going to text you; which is the midnight (of course). Nonetheless, that's not going to stop me, I ran to the nearest ATM machine, hopefully to reload via the ATM. But guess what, all transaction stops after twelve (of course again); I know it from the start but still I never gave up any hope. A few minutes later, I'm running like mad cow seeking for any reload booth near my hostel, but seriously, who still open at midnight?

Guess there's nothing I can do but to blog you this. I know you'll ask me to borrow a phone from my friends, but the things is who going to let you use his phone for an hour or two of sweet talks?

"Geez, men really are good at excuses and sweet talks, not? Terrible!"

Wait! Is that an advantage to us, men? Nothing to complain then. I was just trying to tell you this if I manage to reload and I didn't forget.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY DEAR! THANKS FOR ALL THESE YEARS"

I promise that I'll 'die die' reload tomorrow and compensate on what we missed out today. After all tomorrow is still twenty fifth of July. I promised and this time for real. I really hope that you read this first thing tomorrow (if possible before breakfast), if not I'll have to suffer for a while and explain all over again till lunch (but I'm not complaining).

FHM

Did you know we have our own Malaysia’s version of FHM?

Oh so you know?

Then I guess I’m the only one that is not aware of this. Freaking right! We have our own version of FHM for so long now. Darn it! I missed all the fun. Yet I’m still not too sure what’s wrong with our country censor board but somehow FHM managed to sneak pass it. It’s the best men's magazine in town, of course next to Playboy and Maxim; nevertheless it’s a delight to know that we have our own version now.

That day, precisely three days ago, I was in some magazine booth trying to grab some reading materials; mostly comics and maybe once in a blue moon newspaper. It is a booth, so it is small; with no luck of getting anything, I browse through the magazine randomly and WHOA! I come across some sexy lady cover. At that point, I don’t know what to do, I had to come clean here; I was panic to see such magazine. My left brain keep telling me to flip the magazine “Flip it! Flip it you bastard!”, but my right brain warn me “Don’t! You moron might get us killed! It could be the shopkeeper’s secret collection”.

What? It’s normal to panic okay, to own such magazine in our country is equivalent to smuggle pigs across border or to mate an elephant with Chihuahua.

With all the guts left, I flipped the magazine and surprisingly it's a legal read (I flip it because of my scientific curiosity and not because of the sexy ladies, get me right okay!). It even comes with a price tag and guess what: it’s FHM. ”OMG! *grasp* IT’S FHM! *grasp*” I heard so much about FHM from my cousin till I can spell it even in my dream, but that guy is so desperate he even subscribed it directly from UK, that’s 6 times Ringgit Malaysia, man. But since now we have our own version, it won’t cost so much.


I calmed down.

I bought it.

And I should have seen it coming.

Malaysia’s FHM is all about interviews, gadgets, fashions and girls with clothes on. HALAL to the max. KNS!

World Cup in Mamak

The word ‘mamak’ first came to me when I was in the primary school, thanks to my buddy, Syed. He is an Indian-Muslim, by and large the Indian-Muslim is more known as ‘mamak’ by the local. Since then, I have been calling him ‘mamak’ instead of his real name (if that pissed you off, blame it to the local). The most significant change mamak brought to the country is none other than their roti canai; food made from water and flour, beaten and toasted on a hot surface. The mamak then taken their roti into another level, it undergo countless evolution after evolution, modification after modification and now you’ll be surprise how many choice there are in their menu. When you talk about mamak now, the first thing that came to our mind is their multi-branched restaurant; a place to eat, chat and brag.

You got to admit that the mamak really have brain, they opt for cheap labor: Bangala instead of the local, they installed Astro, they buy big screen television, they run as late as 7-11, they sell purely halal foods, they put a wifi sign but off it during peak hour, they raise the price of ‘teh tarik’ when only flour price raised, they ask their waiters to give you a dead stare when you not ordering anything from their menu, they put ridiculous name for their food: Roti KL Tower for instance, they put chairs and tables at the pedestrian road illegally, they sell candy bar and goodies at their counter for extra income. How can they not be rich?

Now World Cup is just around the corner, there’s no reason why mamak not taking this opportunity? In fact, they had already blocked the whole road just for their tables and chairs: illegally that is. How can they not be rich?

Everyone knows what it feels like watching World Cup at home; it’s just like watching TV at home right? But, not everyone knows the thrill of watching World Cup at mamak; to be honest, it’s exactly like barbarian watching a frenzied wild boars fight. Despite this, I’m still going to blog this even at this midst of chaos.

Yesterday, it was the England-Germany game and everyone was so spirited before the match. I’m of course on the English side and even predicted that it’s going to be a two-nil match. I reached the mamak stall nearby fifteen minutes before the game, and guess what? It was already full house. But my strong will keep me stay there despite raining; thank god it was only cats and dogs rain. In this midst of chaos, you have to be cautious who you support and where the supporters are. Nonetheless, all that only show when the first goal is scored. When the first goal is scored, observes clearly who’s the one cheering and who’s the one cursing. Then pick a side to either cheer or curse at that time. But of course, don’t cheer on the cursing side and vice versa.

Tired of the commentator? Bored with their ‘ah-mou’ slang? Never worry, at mamak you won’t be able to listen to the commentator all the times; in fact mamak have their own group of commentators-wannabe. I was near the gamblers group yesterday. Well before the match start, it was all about ‘eat ball’, ‘let ball’ and ‘buy which side’. But once Klouse scored their first goal; it’s all about ‘his mother’, ‘your mother’ and ‘F which side’. But the funniest line of the night which I actually laugh it out loud is “Rooney kaw gay kah? So sissy geh”

The atmosphere at the mamak for the whole night is terrible. Germany supporters provoking the England fans, the fans banging their table after each goal, motorcyclist parked their bike almost everywhere, people honed their car after each goal and it was pure chaos. If not because of the World Cup yesterday, the police would have misunderstood it as a riot. It was awful. Nonetheless I do enjoy watching the game till the end, although many of the England supporters leave when Muller scored his third goal for Germany. I was shouting, cheering and cursing all the time despite the rain and I have to stand throughout the whole game (Duh! That’s what full house supposes to be). Eventually I lose my conscience and the barbaric side of me had taken control over my body. The game ended with the German triumph over the English: four-one. Luckily there was no fight and everyone leave peacefully.

Overall I enjoy the night: You can have your ‘teh tarik’, your own commentator and your ‘roti canai’ with you; what more can you expect, even the audience in the stadium can’t enjoy such a luxury.

But back to my conscious, since when I’m a football fans? I guess with that kind of atmosphere, you couldn’t not to be a fan. I guess this is the end for England in World Cup 2010; “Goodbye Three Lions”