Choppy chopper

Dumb, but better than Tic Tac Toe

My record is 494. I guess even my cat can beat me at this. Please post your highest record here. Mat Kool for the person with highest score. And for me too, of course.

Pride and prejudice

With her central characters, Jane Austen suggests that true love is a force separate from society and one that can conquer even the most difficult of circumstances. Indeed. Love can break down communication barriers, dissolve squabbles, soften hearts of stone.

Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

(1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

We need to have faith. I need to. That amongst all the confusion, misunderstandings, violence and sin, as long as there is love, hope is not far away.

Second breakfast and elevenses anyone?

LOTR fans, take up the challenge!

You too, Harry Potter fans!

I did miserably. So forgotten all my facts. Anyone hit the perfect score, let me know. Mat Kool ice-cream on me. Don't mind what others might think. Knowing everything about LOTR and Harry Potter at the tip of your fingertips doesn't make you a nerd.

Winds of change

I really need to change. Went through the whole nine yards of compiling a list of new year resolutions in December 2003. Most glaring being "I must change for the better in God's eyes, family and friends' eyes and all other living things with eyes' eyes". I must admit though, I was cutting myself some slack back there coming up with the resolution. Already mentally preparing myself an escape route in case something goes wrong. Why? It's too darn general! So, it's almost 9 months into the new year (heck, I could've been a mom by now) and I'm still hopelessly at Square One. Still aimless. Still fat. Still screwing up relationships (romantic and non). What does being better mean? How do I know if I've passed the test? Quantitative or qualitative? How do I please everyone? And if I simply can't, how do I piss off the least amount of people and still be myself? Is being myself better? Or succumbing to the social norm of goodness and feel suffocated and stereotyped? Whoa. Stuck in the bath tub whirlpool thingy again. And this time I can't see Lucky Ducky whirling with me.

Anyway, for starters (oh the irony), I must change two easily-identified and measured habits for the betterment of me:

(1) I shall refrain from transforming all my belongings into shades of blue, however fiercely I love the colour. My clothes are mostly blue. So is my future car and house. I'm going to dye my hair blue (if my boss doesn't froth at the mouth). Today Elliot said that I didn't change my sweaty shirt from my morning jog at Titiwangsa. I did too. But both were blue. 'Twas mucho embarassing, but it's still okay because he's 12. If I project this image to the older, more significant general public then it's bad. Harga saham plummeting even lower in an already bad state of bear market. And my gramma is worrying aloud that I'm gonna be the last granddaughter in the family to be married. Grrrr... Pressure, pressure.

(2) I shall try harder not to be late. Okay, it's too ambitious a statement. I shall try not to be late more than 5 minutes. I am late ALL the time and I simply cannot understand how I maintain that startling record. Whenever someone mentions "everybody try not to be late" all eyes would be on me. I cower. I wince. But it's true. I deserve every glare, every snicker, every nudge. Gaah. All my watches are tuned 10 minutes ahead and my alarm clock 30 minutes ahead (I used to have it 45 minutes ahead but it freaks the living daylights out of my guests who stay over - time virtually flies in Jessey's room, haha). I even tried turning the knob ahead randomly not knowing what the actual time is, so I won't mentally deduct the minutes off and still be late, but lo and behold, I am still glamorously late all the time! Is it a disease? Is it a warped sense of patriotism (living up to the Malaysian time standards) of some sort?

post script: Sarah asked us not to be late tomorrow without establishing eye-contact but I could feel her specifically addressing me. Daniel glared and snickered. It could well be my guilty imagination (not Daniel's glare though) but still... I must change. To like some other colours besides blue. To have a more socially accepted time awareness habit. And to find means (other than stuffing my socks into them mouths) to stop anxious gossiping (oh I'm sure they mean well) of them relatives.

Clown fish aka Nemo! (and they really love anemones)

Butterfly fish (usually in pairs or alone)

Sergeant Majors (they swim in schools)

Perhentian #12 - Fish are friends, not food

We took a boat ride out for the second day's snorkelling sessions. Furby didn't join the rest of the gang as she went diving right after breakfast. When we met up again later that day, she admitted that she barfed (again) during her dive. Lucky Perhentian fishies! Could always expect food when Furby's around!

The fishing boat that took us out to sea rocked like nobody's business. Wombat threatened to throw up any minute. We made her sit down and started clearing the perimeter. It was less woozy to stand at the edge of the boat looking into the water for giant turtles or Nessie (She's huge. She could swim all the way to Malaysia if she wanna. And switch environment to salty waters). The water is so pristinely clear that we could see the sandbar and rocks and coral reefs way below the surface.

There were already another group present when we reached our first destination. Wombat had turned a little green. The water looked deep. We scrambled down the boat in excitement.

"I don't see any fish!" I shouted at the guide. The same one who took us to the other side last evening. And abandoned us during the could-be thunderstorm.
"Wear your mask and put your head down-lah..."

Whoa. There were actually swarms of fishes around us! I mean swarms. Hordes. Masses. I've never seen so many different types of vibrantly coloured fishes within touch (well, the goggles have x2.5 magnification). And they're real!

post script: We were wondering why our guide refused to join us in the water. "What if we drown?" we asked. He remained adamant. He said he could see us fine from above the boat. Then we found out. The eeky way. The guide from the other group of snorkellers shat into the sea. And the fishes devoured the dung. Oh my. Why on earth do we still need oxidisation ponds?

Nimble fingers?

Test your parking skills (just use the arrow keys on keyboard)

Been a while since I put something here. Too much happening in too short a time. Feel like I'm in the eye of a bathtub whirlpool with the stopper lifted. Thoughts are dashing a million a minute but I can't seem to catch hold of anything to put into words. So, here's something to pacify my guilt. And keep viewers' fingers busy.

What drives you?

Something all drivers should ponder about

Recommended for those about to take driving tests or interested to know what's it like to be a good and civilised driver.

Perhentian #11 - Melons, melons, everywhere

Hot hoochie mamas jogging along the beach. Yep, this was the wake-up view for the two mornings we were there. Those hardcore sun-seekers and fun-lovers get up really early! The early bird catches the max Vitamin D, I guess. Beyond those blue rooftops lies the itchy and spooky trail to the other side, where The Green Leafed Monsters stand tall and whisper secret plots to each other.

Perhentian #10 - Audit

Our side of the island during the day. Picture taken in front of our resort. For comparison with the night version of the same view posted earlier. If the difference is material, an analytical review has to be done to quantify the impact of such difference to this report. Oooh audit is too fun! (that's why I have to get out of it. I have a weak heart. And allergy to the phrases "cash flow statement", "call over", "deferred taxation" and "bloody hell")

Come to think of it, 50% of the 6 of us are auditors. Except the EW Team and Marina (Bay). The world is so small! Or... maybe it's because I don't have a social life...

Perhentian #9 - First night together

Night view of our side of the island. The house reef where we snorkelled (and Furby fed the fish) is on the left near the rocks. My camera was still a little wet from the rain. Lucky it's still working.

Absolutely nada happened the first night we slept together. We were really beat from all the travelling and strenous exercise (we had to kick our feet while snorkelling!) and everyone zonked off to slumberland after the usual cleaning routine. I detested brushing teeth using the salty tapwater. Showering wasn't so bad, but toothpaste and saltwater didn't go together. At all. We were exhilarated when told that each room has a built-in washroom with heated running water. Nobody told us the water was salty. Yes it may be filtered, but showering with heated seawater made me feel more like a kiam-hu being pickled rather than squeaky clean. We couldn't boil water for drinking too and had to buy bottled water from the resort. Luckily the resort didn't charge RM10 for a bottle, or we would have no choice but to force Winnie up coconut trees. (she's the skinniest!)

post script: The water heater in our room emitted a siren-like wail every time we turned it on. It was loud, mucho embarrasing and I could smell it frying. I, being the hero (as usual), beat the others to be the first to shower. And got this. Idiotic heater microwaving its insides. I ended up scooping water from the wash-basin using cupped palms to wash the shampoo of my hair. The "quick" shower took 30 minutes and I developed bicep muscles. The others happily showered at Furby's washroom and listened to the Symphony of Fury: (1st movement) heater wailing + me cursing + shower being turned off; (2nd movement) shower being turned on cautiously and largo + me baring teeth in full concentration, but wailing started pianissimo then crescendo; (3rd movement) me cursing forte in exasperation + turned off shower + started filling up wash basin.

Perhentian #8 - The sunset that wasn't

I managed to take a picture of the approaching rain before scrambling for cover. The wind raged with such force. Spectacular.

We had a guide lead us for a little jungle-trekking to the other side of the island to witness a real sunset without condominiums or skyscrapers blocking half the view. Two other couples would be joining our trek. Well, watching sunset is supposed to be a couple-ish thing I guess. Definitely not amorous doing it with 5 other species of the same sex smelling of damp swimsuit and fusty sunblock. The couples were togged up in proper trekking attire complete with sneakers and long pants. We looked at each other and exchanged knowing smiles. Typical city people.

Our smug disposition evaporated when we saw the density of the jungle. How on earth could all these greenery grow on an island in the middle of nowhere? It's an island! Islands have coconut trees and sparse bushes, not jungles! Fortunately, we made it to the other side in one piece, sleeveless tops, shorts, flip-flops and all. I presume the people there are accustomed to seeing a bunch of girls in wrong clothes emerging from the jungle with cuts on arms and legs, busily scratching themselves (where we got the itchiness from still remains an enigma) and tsk-tsking at each other's war marks, because nobody even batted an eyelid when we walked past.

The beach on this side of the island is not as pretty as our side. Pieces of dead corals and wood (from wrecked boats?) were all over the place. It gave me a feeling of greyness. Even the sky appeared to be glum. Suddenly we heard distant rumbles of thunder. Far ahead at the horizon, rainclouds gathered. Dark and menacing and heavy. Then it poured. Half of the horizon turned grey. I wheeled around and saw my companions gaping in awe, like me, except for one. Marina was busy chatting up the Norwegian couple from our Battle With The Green Leafed Monsters a while back. And boy oh boy, the guy is HOT! His not knowing how to speak English made him the more yummylicious! Very clever, Marina.

"Hey girls, you think the girl's his sister or..."

I felt the wind rather than heard it. It slapped at my face, pulled at my clothes and bit into my flesh. Painful wind. Wow. The sky darkened in miliseconds. Everyone on the beach started jostling for cover. Our guide who was chatting up a scantily-clad blonde on the beach a minute ago was nowhere to be seen. I made a mental note to complain to Eric.

"Let's run for it. Back to the resort, everyone!" Wombat ordered.

I felt apprehensive. Could we make it? The idea of being stranded halfway with The Green Leafed Monsters in abundance did not appeal to me at all.

"Wait guys, why don't we..."

They were already gone. Trotting steadily ahead. The sky looked more foreboding than ever and the wind practically roared. Groaning aloud, I followed. Into the blanket of darkness of what used to be a jungle. Thunder boomed its authority mercilessly at us. Our visibility steadily decreased. No words were exchanged, no laughters on our way back. Only grim expressions (ok, I deduced. I couldn't see sh*t to save my own butt) and determination to make it to our rooms before it rained cats and dogs or lightning starts frying people in jungle alive. I was praying silently that no one would fall and tumble off the tracks or break a leg.

The jog back seemed like eternity, but we managed to arrive at our side unscathed. Once safe, everyone started chattering in excitement and relief. It wasn't until much later that we realised the important agenda.

We missed the sunset.

The green ogress revealed

NOW I'm in the picture... and no, Evelyn is not my sister. Or my relative. We just happen to wear similar glasses and smile the same way. It's a GMTA phenomenon. If you have no inkling what's GMTA, you probably need to cut down on TV and start reading. Ladybird has excellent Peter and Jane series. Alternatively, Enid Blyton is a wise choice.

post script: Need a hint? GMTA has nothing to do with Greenwich Mean Time.

Perhentian #7 - Pure shores

(L-R: Wombat, Evelyn, Winnie, Furby)
What makes the stretch of beach at Perhentian so special? Everything, perhaps. Sand as fine as flour. Waters so clear even the tiniest fish or coral can't escape one's sight. Majestic view of unobstructed horizon decorated with tiny blobs of distant islands. Lone eagle soaring across the bluest sky imaginable. Interesting shapes and sizes of topless sunbathers (oh yeah). I could sit here for hours, letting the salty breeze tousle my hair, watching out for tiny fishies that come in with the waves lapping around my feet. And crossing my fingers a gorgeous Mat Salleh with a killer smile and great butt would chat me up. Aaaaah, bliss. This place is literally a dream factory.

We went on our first snorkelling outing as soon as we settled our rooming arrangements. We got adjoining rooms! I was to share with Evelyn and Winnie. Initially I requested Evelyn to bunk with Winnie so I could have a bed to myself. Excuse: I snore. I snore loud. Winnie snorted. And I found out that Evelyn was much more likely to win the snoring competition that night. Judge Winnie's decision? Let the 2 contestants share a bed and outdo each other.

First exposure to snorkelling was done inhouse. No, we didn't snorkel in our bath-tubs with Lucky Ducky. Apparently the resort has a house reef at the edge of the beach. We spent the first half-hour donning our snorkelling gear and spluttered and flailed about in the thigh-deep water. Hey, it was tough ok. Most of us girls haven't even seen a snorkel-mask thingy before that. And our dratted life-jackets kept riding up our nether regions! Our guide looked totally bewildered and amused at the same time, no thanks to the EW team (members: Evelyn, Winnie). Winnie couldn't swim for peanuts and tried to drown Evelyn when being taught how to paddle. The guide didn't know if they were laughing or grimacing. The thrashing about and commotion was almost identical to a shark attack scene from Jaws 3.

The rest of our gang were fortunately floating far enough ahead to not be associated with the two shark-attack victims by onlookers. (Note that we were floating and not swimming or paddling.) We gave up trying to look graceful and professional when we noticed our guide way ahead of us, making high-pitched seal squeals with his nose and looking bored. We then transformed ourselves into graceful dead logs carried by the outward current. With wedgies up our butts. And ramming into each other at times.

We did see a lot of bee-yoo-tiful fishies though, wedgies or not. Not much of corals though. They all seemed dead and colourless. The session ended abruptly just when we were getting a hang of snorkelling. Drat. We must've spent too much time dissing each other in our snorkelling gear. But seriously, with the 2.5x magnifying snorkelling mask, how could we not look like Power Puff Girls with Jackie Chan's nose?

And so we furiously kicked and paddled our way back to the shore. The EW team rejoined our gang halfway. Were they still at the same Jaws 3 spot? Of course not. We shouldn't be so mean. No, they moved forward about 2 inches. When the water got too shallow to swim, all of us slowly got up to our feet, water cascading down our bodies and hair gleaming in the sun. I was instantly transported back into the James Bond movie, sans the huge melons. (if you're scratching your head reading this sentence, just ignore it. You're probably not classy enough to analyse the good ole' Bond series... and the Bond girls' stats)

Suddenly Furby barfed. Her friend and fellow diver, Lizard Man (he has a lizard tattoo on his back) from the boat ride to Perhentian was a mere step behind her. So he became the unfortunate first witness to the taofoofa spillage boo-boo. He timidly asked if Furby was ok while treading cautiously around the instant fish-feeding area. Wombat, second on the scene, conveniently forgot to inform the rest of us about the boo-boo. Luckily we didn't notice any unusual concentration of fish activities along our way to the shore. Those fishies must be really famished and cleaned up the food in a matter of seconds.

Blog-o-maniac in the making?

43.75 %

My weblog owns 43.75 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?

Had some really nice comments about my blog. Some even asked why wasn't I blogging the past few days. Gee. I'm feeling warm all over. It's so fulfilling to know that people actually read my stuff and find them interesting. The writer part of me (long-time high school ambition) is wetting its (her?) pants in excitement. And wanting to blog even more. I reckon I'm officially a carrier of hardcorus blogomanius. Taking the above test proved my suspicion right. This bug is invisible, internetborne and dangerously lethal. I strongly advise those who're faint-hearted, humour-deficient and allergic to panda-eyes and horrifying zits from late nights up blogging to stay away from this and other similar sites. Go fry your brains at TGV or Nicklelodeon.

post script: Happy birthday James. For a creative pressie, I thought of tying a red ribbon around my neck and jump out from a box to surprise you with a peck on the cheek. Discovered some interesting facts in the process:

(1) Electrical/furniture shops don't give out boxes for free.

(2) Red ribbon around the neck makes one itch like mad.

(3) I have a fat arse. I can't fit into even a refrigerator's box.

... So now you know why you don't have a pressie yet. I'll just buy you a jigsaw puzzle or something soon.

Perhentian #6 - Bubu Long Beach Resort

Bubu is the one with red roof. The only resort on the island (Perhentian Kecil) with 24 hours air-conditioning and water heaters. The rooms are ok. Simple but not shabby. Only drawback was the manager of the place, Eric, was as stuck-up as a peacock with cactus needle up its arse. We didn't like him one bit. He gave a lecture about the do's and don't's on the island upon our disembarkment from the boat. Italian Dad snorted in disdain. The girls and I detested his arrogance. But that was before we found out what a snivelling weasel Eric was. I would have given Dad a pat on the back if we knew.

post script: Culture shock. As we were nearing the shore, first human glimpse we had was this very tanned Mat Salleh lady sunbathing topless (facing up, mind you) bobbing with the waves on a pink floatie. I turned around and saw the entire boat crew (all local teenage boys) had eyes bugging out of their sockets.

Perhentian #5 - Mambo Italiano

Were met at the airport by someone from the tour agency. He was holding a placard containing several other names. I was crossing my fingers we were not going to ride on the back of a pickup, or in a stuffy van. The airport was tiny, with an equally tiny strip of runway. A house sat at the end of the runway. I bet the pilots have adrenaline-pumping moments landing the big birds. I doubt Air Asia fully computerised its fleet.

To our relief, there was a new, air-conditioned bus waiting. The journey to the jetty took about an hour. I was oblivious to time and surrounding as I fell asleep as soon as the bus moved. Wombat sat next to me again, but not before she told me she once puked on a road-journey similar to ours. I feigned unconsciousness.

First stop: Perhentian Island Resort's jetty. A lot of Mat-Salleh's got off here. Wombat said it's THE resort. Five-star. Hmmm. Probably has golden taps and toilet seats. Next was our stop: Bubu Long Beach Resort's jetty. There was a tiny office attached to a rundown building called Bubu Inn. Another couple with an adorable kiddie girl got off with us. I saw from the sign-in form that the guy is an Italian and the wife a Chinese. Their daughter? Chitalian, what else.

Furby was nicely chatting up the Italian guy while the wife brought the daughter in search for a loo (and ice-cream, which I enviously noticed later). We had to pay RM5 each as conservation charge for Marine Parks of Malaysia. Note: Please pay attention to this conservation charge as Marina would be referring to it 20 times a day at the island.

The boat ride was FAST and furious. Furby said she puked on the boatride going to Tioman Island. We made her sit at the back so she could do her business if she felt the urge. Wombat said she might, too. Wow. I was hoping Wombat wouldn't lose her breakfast. I mean, this woman can puke land, air and sea. The ultimate.

The speedboat skimmed and raced above the waves. Wind whipped at our faces, hair, clothes. The mini-Chitalian cooed in bliss and excitement. Mum was gripping her arm in such protective manner I could see red marks rising on the kid's forearm. Dad was doing his macho thingy. Body slightly bent forward, hands clasped over knees and assuming a deep-in-thought look. The girls and I rolled our eyes at each other. Men would be men. Furby was talking to a Chinese guy beside her. He's a diver too. Nobody puked. *phew*

post script: Furby wore a top with floppable neckline. Big boo-boo. Floppy neckline flopped like mad being whipped around by the wind. Furby had to close the flaps with one hand for the entire boatride. Position assumed is akin to one trying to calm oneself after recovering from a close-call of heart attack. Chitalian bombarded Mum with "Ma, why the cheh-cheh like that one?" Wombat and I, being the nearest to Chitalian, stifled laughter while Mum smiled apologetically and ignored Chitalian's pesterings. Aah, demure Asians. I would have slapped my thighs and guffawed.

Perhentian #4 - Land ahoy

(L-R: Winnie, Evelyn, Marina, Furby, Wombat)
We finally reached Kota Bharu. None of us had time nor mood to put on contact lenses. Marina left her glasses in Australia and she was blind as a bat. She needed to hold on to Furby's backpack. I wasn't in the picture because I forgot to check-in my photo-shooting robot. I believe it's still sitting at McDonald's in KLIA.

post script: When our plane descended low enough to see buildings and trees, we discovered vastly different terrain and landscape from what we normally have in KL. Houses are made of wood and attap, surrounded by coconut trees and paddy-fields. Some even have ponds for rearing fishes/prawns. Everything are in shades of green. Then we could see the coastline ahead. Beige sandbars. White foamy waves. Blue. Wombat wondered aloud why were we heading towards the ocean. Kota Bharu wasn't an island. I assured her that the pilot was just being nice and offered us a tantalising view of bluish-ness. Then I wasn't so sure when we headed further into the bluish-ness. I couldn't see the land anymore. Hijack? As sudden as my thought, the plane made a sharp turn to the left. Soon enough... Land Ahoy!

My heart is pink!

What Color is Your Heart?

Hmm. I seldom take online quizzes. But I think it's cool to be able to post one's results in a blog. Maybe people can know me better. Maybe it'll encourage others to click on the link of the quiz, contributing to more hits on the quiz-creator's website and brightening his/her day, leading to a surge in productivity in whatever he/she does and the country's average productivity level, and this will in the end bring higher GDP to a country and better standard of living to citizens.

And it's ok if you don't know what on earth am I blabbing about. Just take the quiz. It's fun.

Perhentian #3 - I love flying

Air Asia has tiny planes. From the aisle there're only 3 seats to the left and 3 to the right. I felt like a Liliputian in a toy plane. Can this thing hold at least until we reach Kota Bharu? I chose a seat in the middle. I could see the left wing outside my little window. I wanted to be the first to see and notify the crew if any screw loosens or a bird flies into the propellers. Wombat sat next to me. I decided against voicing out my concern from her beware-I-lack-sleep-and-therefore-I-gobble-little-children-for-breakfast look. The others, equally zombified, plonked into available seats around. Gee, how could I be the only one getting excited about taking off?

I love flying. The sensation of the engines in full throttle, cruising full-speed along the runway for the final few seconds, and then feeling the plane actually lifts off into the air, into nothingness... oooooh I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it. What a thrill!

"Hey, Wombat. Can you feel it? Can you? We're about to take off! It's my favourite part of the flight!"
"It's the part where I normally puke."
Sheeeeeeesh.
"And I forgot to take my motion sickness pill this morning."

The plane suddenly shuddered. I looked out the window. Not surrounded by clouds. Shouldn't be any turbulence. The crew were looking confused, but just slightly. Another shudder. A whining noise from the propellers. Or was it the engines? The cabin crew walked up and down the aisle whispering to each other in hushed tones. They looked a tad too distressed for my comfort. My friends opened their eyes groggily. The whine grew louder, but not loud enough to drown out the orchestra of babies crying, passengers discussing about the fate of the plane and an elderly man's praying now dominating the earlier uneventful first-half of our flight. My heart was racing. Wombat was trying to say something, but I couldn't hear her. I moved in closer.

"The air-stewardess has such a prominent Adam's apple. You think she's a "he" previously?"

...And I resumed staring out of the window at the cottony clouds. The cabin crew was demonstrating how to strap on the life-jackets under our seats in time to some pre-recorded narration. Approximately 2% of the entire flight population paid attention, 1% being the 2 air-stewardesses and the other 1% being 2 pockmarked uncles who were definitely not staring appreciatively at the fluorescent life-jackets and the position of the attached whistles. The plane was still surging upwards.

"Hey Wombat, won't the plane ever level out and fly horizontally? I mean, we'd end up in space pretty soon if we keep flying at this angle."
"I think we won't be levelling out. When we reach the correct altitude it's time to descend already. Don't bug me. I wanna sleep."

We did fly in a perfect horizontal line though. For like 2 minutes. And I could see Banjaran Titiwangsa below. Awesome. We were flying across it. And then the descend started. Grrrr. Wombat was right after all. Her head lolled onto my shoulder. Oh well. At least she didn't throw up.

post script: Booger. When I was passing thru' the metal detector the alarm went off. I forgot to put my pouchbag on the scanning conveyor belt. Since it was underneath my sweater and all, I had to do a stripshow before I could get the pouchbag off my shoulders. I was kinda skimpy underneath. Officers and fellow passengers had buggy eyes. My friends were bending over in bouts of laughter. The detector went off again. Turned out that it was set off because of my belt, which has a metal clipper. I wasn't feeling mirthful at all.

post post script: The part about my flight about to go down in flames was make-believe. If you didn't get it in the first place, you shouldn't be reading my blogs. We're not on the same wavelength.

Perhentian #2 - Blur sotong

Unbelievable. It was only 6.15 a.m. and the airport was bustling with people. Per Wombat's directions, we were to collect our boarding passes at one of the Row A counters.

"So, Evelyn, what's our destination? Kuala Terengganu or Kota Bharu?"
"I dunno-lah."
"Walao. Wombat didn't say? Ok ok, what about departure time? KT is at 7.40 a.m. and KB at 7.50 a.m. If we know the time at least we know which counter to go to."
"Errrr..."
Long pause. More and more people getting into the queue line. BOTH destinations.

Winnie spoke. "I know we can go to Perhentian from both KT and KB."

post script: At this point I wanted to either (i) laugh out loud at our blur-ness; (ii) ram Winnie up the luggage chute; (iii) shove the trolley (on board: 2 bags, 1 kid) beside me up the conveyor belt.

Great mind was churning hard. Analysing the situation. Rationalising the conclusion. We were asked to reach the airport by 6.15 a.m. Domestic flight. Checking-in should be done an hour ahead. No flight at 7.15 a.m. Closest time of departure was 7.40 a.m. to Kuala Terengganu. Bingo. Peanuts. I was about to announce the obvious conclusion to my 2 other blur travel mates when...

"Hey girls, I called Wombat again and she said we're taking the Kota Bharu flight. We're supposed to produce this code to redeem our passes. Jess, Winnie, gimme your IC. Errr, Jess, you wanna say something?"

"Uhhh...Yar... Let's go McDonald's for breakfast?"

Perhentian #1 - being Malaysian

Woke up when my phone beeped with Evelyn's message. Picking you up in 10 minutes. Shucks. I'm supposed to wake up half an hour earlier! Haven't shampooed since yesterday and I'm not flying with greasy hair. I must've habitually clicked off the alarm AND the snooze button. Moronic. Oh well, at least I packed most of my stuff. Showering at 5 a.m. is coooooold... Mood brightened when I donned the sweater "rented" from James. Warm and fluffy. Smelled nice, even. Smelled like... James' detergent. Duh.

Evelyn's zombified brother drove both of us to KL Sentral. So sweet of him, although the entire journey was shrouded in silence. Perhaps we're all aware of our morning breath. Or maybe we're all quietly praying not to be disastrously late. We're supposed to catch the 5.30 a.m. KLIA-Express. Promised to meet up with Furby, Wombat and Marina at 6.15 a.m. (latest) at the airport. We're so not gonna make it. At KL Sentral, I frantically looked for the shuttle's ticket counter. I never knew the place was so huge. We have Starbucks, and A&W (or it could be an optical illusion), and lots of other outlets I never thought existed. Oooh. Aaah.

"Evelyn, I think we're definitely gonna miss the 5.30 shuttle, when's the next?"
"I dunno-lah."
"I thought you were looking at the shuttle schedule online yesterday! You dunno when's the next?!"
Snort.

One minute later... still engaged in our Spot-The-Ticket-Counter-Walkathon.
"So, Evelyn, what time is our flight?"
"I dunno-lah, you think we should take a cab to the airport instead?"
Grunt.

Mercifully, the arduous hunt ended. We saw Winnie, Evelyn's colleague standing with arms crossed at the finishing line. KLIA-Express Ticket Counter. Finally! Hurrah! As we sped joyously and anxiously (it's possible. Joyous to at last locate the counter after many confusing overhead signs. Anxious to find out if we're gonna miss the flight and be stranded in KL) towards Winnie, I heard huffing and puffing and a clamour of footsteps behind us. Air Asia chilli red uniform yanking along a roller-bag. Talking apologetically into her phone. Hair a bit dishevelled. I felt instantaneously... nice. Muahaha. So we're not the only ones being late! I wondered if she's going to be on our flight.

God is kind even to blur people who're late. Turned out that there's a shuttle at 5.45 a.m. and the journey would take 28 minutes. We're still gonna make it after all. Evelyn called Wombat to notify them this merry news, and guess what? They're gonna be late, and we should go check-in first without them...

Malaysians will be Malaysians.

post script: Saw a solitary high school boy clad in school uniform sitting forlornly on a bench at KL Sentral. Waiting to catch the first train to school? Is he always the first one at the station at this ungodly hour? I salute him.