A very dear friend of mine, Amin, is getting divorced.
Yeah! The dirty old man – now stable and successful – grew tired of his haggard 46-year old wife and has decided to have a jolly good time shagging a buxom young thing’s brains out in a swanky bungalow at Ozana, Melaka for the rest of his life.
Come on – be honest – chances are most of you had this mental picture of my friend after reading the opening sentence, right?
Well, shame on you! Continue reading
Romantic love is over-rated. Fuelled by sentimental notions shoved up our ass by Hollywood and countless romance novels, we are too quick to attribute amazing things to it that, frankly, it would baulk at if only it knew. Label me a jaded old cynic who has been kicked in the teeth once too often if you must. But just spend maybe the next few minutes to consider what I have to say. Who knows, what I have to say might turn out to be a load of bollocks. Then again, it just might not…
Ever heard people say things like, “If he truly loves me, he’ll always be here for me”? Or what about the one that goes, “If she really loves me, she will understand”? What a load of codswallop! Whenever I hear statements like these, I have to suppress an overwhelming urge to slap the one saying it till either one of us goes silly and start foaming at the mouth. These people aren’t romantic at all: they are – how can I say this nicely? – just plain deluded. Its either that or they are, at the very least, spectacularly lazy. They are just not willing to put in the work to keep their partners. Continue reading
“You’re the biggest goddamn 12-year old I ever met!”
In some twisted way, that was probably the second nicest thing anyone said to me during our reunion at Langkawi last weekend. I was really touched.
It all began when about a year ago when a dear friend (and former employer) mooted the idea of a reunion for our batch (the 1975 intake of MRSM Seremban). Frankly, I was a bit sceptical because the plan specified, of all things, that the entire group shall be flown to Langkawi on a chartered flight. My mind immediately protested: collecting everyone’s portion of the charter was going to be a logistical nightmare. I would have been better off if I were to start building the plane with my bare hands right there and then. This way, we stood a better chance of arriving at Langkawi in the same aircraft on the slated date. Continue reading
I recall buying my first pair of Stan Smiths. It cost a RM45 a pair back in 1977. This was an insane amount for a pair of shoes when, for example, a clerk at MAS at the time earned only RM175 a month. It was even more insane when you happen to be a 15-year old student with no income to speak of.
But buy them I did. I even tried bargaining with the lady. Since I had rather dainty feet (size 6, actually), I argued they should be cheaper because less material was used. I thought this was rather clever. Then the lady replied, “OK, I understand. But if you want your money’s worth, young man, may I suggest you get a size 11?”
Just expanding on a few things I overheard recently – and not so recently
- “What a stupid thing to do!” – I just can’t help but admire people who try but then fail. Personally, I admire less people who sit back comfortably, do nothing but criticise, and then start criticising even more when things go wrong.
- “Nice. But this photo has been edited, hasn’t it? Me? I’m interested in photography, not editing” – It never fails to amuse me how willing people can be when it comes to putting down others who do not subscribe to their way of thinking. I guess it’s difficult to recognize arrogance in its many guises.
- “After all that I’ve done for him/her!” – This has to be the most cancerous and self-destructive thought known to man. The need for reciprocity is OK in business. However, in human relationships, it poisons the spirit and taints sincerity. Human relationships aren’t supposed to be transactional.
As a rule, I am usually reluctant to discuss polygamy in the presence of women. The last time I did this, three wanted to hang me from the nearest tree, two added that this should be done by my balls and one quietly slipped me her phone number. But I am getting reckless in my old age. So here goes…
Kadir, who is a regular teh tarik buddy, lives down the road. I see him maybe once or twice a month. The rest of the time he is probably in some far flung corner or the country. The reason? He’s a bus driver. Though he has not caused some major accident that has claimed a dozen lives, he maintains this is not his fault – there is still time yet for him to fulfil this time-honoured tradition of express bus drivers.
The new 2010 re-issue of the CB1100
If you were in your mid-teens in the mid-70s – and if you had even a nano-gramme of testosterone coursing through your veins – chances are you would have lusted over a motorcycle more than you did over pretty little Kiah next door who was busily out-growing every new bra she bought.
Further, if like me you, too, were a teenager who lived with your grandparents, any access to a motorcycle would have been severely curtailed. They were dangerous, death-dealing machines. No amount of coaxing or cajoling (or emotional blackmail) on your part would have gotten you the permission to go anywhere near one.
Thus, without a bike to call my own, I quickly found out that access to Kiah was much more doable. But that – as I am fond of saying – is another story altogether.