Working the ass off

Been putting in an average of 14 hours per day for the entire week, hence the inactivity here. Usually too beat after I shower to do anything but check mails, research a 'lil, and whine to whoever's online. Journey back from office is usually 40 minutes, but the journey there can be from 40 minutes to 2 hours. I hate Malaysian traffic. Now with the price of petrol up 5 cents a litre... damn! It's unbelievable how voracious Lisa can get. Not to be judged by her teenie-weenie petite outlook. She downs them petrol as a sperm whale would with plankton and shrimps.

I'm seriously enjoying myself in this new workplace. I mean, where else can a team of people think up ideas for a proposal while playing football in the office? Where else can I wear PJ's to work and claim that it reflects the artistic yet comfy me? Hmm, maybe it's because I have Lisa now, I don't have to worry about catching the last bus or train home. Or I'm still fresh into the line, not minding the crummy pay and crappy hours in exchange for learning and exposing myself to something new. Or I can listen to music on earphones and not do anything for 15-minute intervals and nobody bugs me. My happiness will be complete if we get coverage for ADSL or something akin in the near future (hopefully).

Now, just because I'm nice, I shall end this entry here before you all begin to slowly rip out each of your eyelashes one by one.

Bummer...

How does one surmise a one-page mission statement into a simple sentence? I've been mulling over this for the past few days. And Boss have been screaming to have choices, choices and more choices. "You can do better than this," was all she said when I handed her yet another 10 different ideas (brilliant, according to my standard, I might say)... Brother. So here I am, stuck in the office at this wonderfully eerie hour staring at the computer while trying to resuscitate the cells upstairs who stubbornly chose to remain in their shutdown position.

Why do we need a slogan for our namecards anyway? Couldn't we enlarge the company logo to take up all the free space and be done with it? I have never seen any namecards with a slogan! It is not clever! It is a heinous crime against the copywriter's otherwise tranquil and sanguine career (so far)!

Life is a bitch... sigh... but some of the puppies are cute.
Like my fingernails.
I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message...

I like 'em LONG

Lookie my long fingernails! They're fake (but not as fake as stick-ons), yep, but imagine the joy when I drum my fingers on any surface and hear clickety-clacks instead of dull meaty thud-thuds. I have been biting my fingernails since high school. Used to bite my toe-nails too while watching telly, back in those days when I was still agile and bendy. Nevermind the fact that my hand here looks like an arthritis-ridden shrivelled claw. Nevermind the fact that my nails are pink instead of some cool goth punk color. They are long! They are magnificent! They are free of charge! Yep. Perks of being in the industry. I saw someone doing the same manicure, nail extension and sculpturing package for 100 bucks. Whoa. I really must put in more effort in her ad.

Manicurist said once I start doing my nails I'd get hooked and ask for pedicure next. I scoffed. I wouldn't mind extending my nails for 2 years (i.e. weekly touch-ups or wash mine off for a new set) but pedicure is for the rich and extravagant. She smiled and said "we'll see". Tres creepy.

Sudden realisation:
(1) I can't pick my nose as dexterously as before.
(2) I can't play bass for the band.
(3) I haven't shampooed my hair since I did the nails.
(4) I might have to postpone doing laundry for as long as the nails stay attached.

Something that she said as she was doing me (giggle) which was 100% accurate, was that non-smokers in the advertising line have very bad nails. When one needs to think, a smoker smokes and a non-smoker chews on fingernails and sucks the blood oozing out from the too-deep bites. She didn't neglect to add in the fact that out of all her nail-biters customers, I have the worst, tiniest, pathetickest nails. Wow. How nice to be on top of the list for something. Tee hee.

Birthday boy

Life, n: A sexually transmitted disease that is fatal. Life, n: The process of continually downsizing all hope and expectations. Happy birthday, Lifey. post script: "Teen drinking is very bad" - J-Kwon

Last--minute panic

Calvin: You can't just turn on creativity like a faucet. You have to be in the right mood.
Hobbes: What mood is that?
Calvin: Last-minute panic.

Oh yeah. Time alloted to think up a snazzy company profile, catchy tagline and teaser, subject for the e-mail (I still can't believe how this one-liner sucked all my brain juice) and direction plus tagline for our name cards: 5 hours. Time left: 8 minutes.

Woo-ha.

Swing swing swing

Life is like a swing ride. It's usually broken. Or people wipe their asses all over the surface. Or wrap their sweaty crummy paws all over the danglies. Muahahaha.

Actually my point is: I feel like a kid on a swing. What started off as a crappy day ended fiiiiiiiiine. I suspect an e-mail in the afternoon did the job. I was crossing my fingers. And it came. Wheeeeee! And my client approved my proposal without much editing. And I didn't have to work till midnight today. Wheeeeee!

God, thank You for the pick-me-ups on crummy days.

Now if You could just be so gracious to make certain people fall madly in love with me...

Zombified...

I'm dead beat.
Overused my daily quota of brain juice.
Bitch of a headache is killing me.
I'm gonna recharge some wit by watching Futurama reruns.
Enjoy my lack of yak while it lasts.
*snooooooore*

Pieces of me

I am strong.
I can act.
I can pretend nothing's wrong.
Therefore I am strong.
I'm supposed to be everyone else's shoulder.
I'm fine with that.
You get friends when you're like that.
I should just stay like that.
Guess if I'm able to continue fooling people about myself I'll eventually convince myself.
I'm quite the confused and confusing little person.

Right now the choices I make available for myself are:
(a) Have a mental breakdown, cry every night, slowly break down inside.
(b) Cut myself. See some blood.
(c) Get out of here. Just leave. Walk out the door and just keep walking. And not look back.

I'm tres freaky whenever I embark on the journey to the centre of me. I shouldn't do that too often. Now I must go eat crap and watch some shitty Hong Kong drama. My life is just too awesome for words.

That's good lassy, keep that positive attitude.

Marmite on bread

Love me or hate me. I taste like Marmite. I am salty and sharp. My abrasive edge greatly upsets some people, but others will gleefully endure it. For those willing to put up with me, I am a great source of emotional health and stability. What Flavour Are You?

Yumm. I could never say no to Marmite on bread. With margarine (it spreads easier). I tried swapping Marmite with Bovril but the relationship didn't work out. Bovril tastes great as instant soup though. I could sip and slurp till I get a nosebleed. I guess beef extract is heatier compared to veggie extract.

Yummylicious

Keith, you rock my world. Too bad you don't realise. The way you concentrate in manouvering the ball, the way your muscles clench when you move, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way your sweat-drenched clothes and hair cling to your lithe body... you drive me wild! (damn, is this the mating season or what)

If I was invisible
Then I could just watch you in your room
If I was invincible
I'd make you mine tonight
If hearts were unbreakable
Then I could just tell you where I stand
I would be the smartest girl
If I was invisible...
Wait, I already am

Notice me, you Adonis. Even for just a little while. I don't want to be invisible. I'm infatuated.

Day one...

My first official day at work. And I'm bushed. Advertising = glamour and glitz? Yeeaah right. Who on earth put that idea in people's mind in the first place? What I really did today was proof-read 4 different draft mock-ups. And draft copies they were. The print was so minuscule and blurry that I swear I am cock-eyed now and my reading glasses prescribed last week ran the entire course of its useful life. After the gruelling ordeal, I happily got my eyes to focus right again and cheerfully counted down to lunch time. And realised the staple diet of my colleagues is nicotine. Different dosages, yeah, but nothing else. They smoke so much that the sole ashtray in the pantry (thank God for small miracles - smoking is prohibited in the office) looks more like a porcupine with white/brown quills.

I followed the boss and art director out for a photo-shoot of a brochure featuring a wholesome, happy family. I was all keyed-up, imagining flawless mag models walking and talking just mere inches from myself. Are they going to be really nice people? Or bitches and he-bitches? We arrived at the shooting location soon enough. And saw a small normal-looking kid with his mum, munching on McChickens and fries. Huh. The "Mother" character arrived 30 minutes later than the scheduled time, but I must salute her professionalism. She immediately plonked herself down at the nearest available chair and took out her assembly of mirrors, lipsticks, mascara and the works. A big bag it was. Within 10 minutes, voila, she was done. If I wasn't observing her out of the corner of my eyes, I could swear she was a different person. Commandment #11: Thou shalt not underestimate the power of cosmetics. One of the greatest gifts the heavenly powers could bestow upon womenfolk.

Since "Father" was supposedly a popular local actor, he arrived with much pomp and grandiosity. And more than an hour late. First golden words out of his mouth: "I think my hair looks messy. Please blow-dry and style it for me." The make-up assistant promptly brandished the necessary repair tools. We waited another 15 minutes. End results of his licks and curls? Still curly. And brought back memories of the Elvis days. The make-up assistant later confessed in whispers that she hadn't been in touch with the business much since 2 years ago, she changed industries to selling insurance full-time. Figures.

My fantasy of brushing shoulders with the hip and happening layer of society, absorbing their aura and breathing in their heavenly scents turned out into 3 hours of squinting under the sun, sweaty armpits (perception of heavenly scent and aura went poof) and itchy arms and body for me particularly. I accidentally backed into a bush buzzing with unidentified insects.

Scratch, scratch. My first day. Scratch, scratch.

post script: The featured talents weren't bitches at all, in fact quite the opposite. But all they talked about was how fat so-and-so was/is, which agency to go to to lose weight and the proper ways to pinch out zits on their faces. And when she wasn't shooting, I caught "Mother" scribbling her name about 100 times in her little notebook. I am still baffled.

Blogger: Ressurection

Whee... Blogger is ressurected! I'm so exultant that I took another online quiz. And my brains are fried from 24 OD. Finished my second season of CSI and I'm now glueing my face to 24. It's equally as addictive. So, just take the quiz...

I am a Gryffindor!

What House are you at Hogwarts? Harry Potter!

What the...

I'm so annoyed by Blogger! Tried to post something on my other blog but the status remained at 0% every try. Been like this the whole day! Why is this happening? Why is this happening to me? I am depressed and annoyed and... Gaaaaaaaaah!

Severus Yearningus

I cannot believe it. I am still suffering from severus yearningus for a banana split. The only way the yearning remains a yearning albeit it causing actual physical pain (metamorphosis from acute mental pain) is that there's no Madam Kwan's near my place. (banana split is heavenly there) Unless I drive for 20 minutes to KLCC. Driving fast. Just now some Good Samaritan (not) has helpfully told me that they have banana split in Secret Recipe. And there's a Secret Recipe 10 minutes away! Noooooo...

I wonder if it's as good as Madam Kwan's.

You may wonder why am I causing such a ruckus about ice-cream. I'm not. I'm practising abstinence. Self-control. See how long I can endure. Will I get over the urge finally? Or is it going to be like an itch, if being left unscratched too long it'll sear through the flesh to the bones. And become an unreachable itch.

Actually, I'm just waiting for someone to buy me one.

Crime Scene Investigation

Oh yeah, I'm so hooked onto this series. Bad. As bad as The X-Files some time back. And CSI doesn't leave me with a huge "?" after every episode. (those outlandish theories were a bit too cheem for me) I like the CSI team portrayed here. They're... human. Each with his/her own problem. And although they're hunky (guys) and skinny (women), they have wrinkles! Yes, I never enjoyed Baywatch. So? Bombard me with flak already.

I..am..so..craving..for..banana..split..

Seriously, I don't know why. I just have this yearning deep within me that cries piteously for fulfillment. Ooooh. With not-too-ripe bananas. And warm, sticky, chocolate fudge. Gaaaaaaaah... I've been suppressing it for the past week, but... Gaaaaaaah...

Mat Kool

Are you cool enough? Are YOU? ARE you?

Well, this is the only quiz I manage to feel happy about the results I might say. I must give a bear hug to the creator.

This is not my doing

Someone from office sent this to me some time ago, and I still guffaw whenever I stumble upon this. Wonder how true it is though. *giggle*

These questions about South Africa were posted on a South African Tourism Website and were answered by the website owner... a person I really would love to meet.

Q: Does it ever get windy in South Africa? I have never seen it rain on TV, so how do the plants grow? (UK)
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.
Q: Will I be able to see elephants in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.
Q: I want to walk from Durban to Cape Town - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only two thousand kilometres, take lots of water...
Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in South Africa? (Sweden)
A: So it's true what they say about Swedes...?
Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in South Africa? Can you send me a list of them in JHB, Cape Town, Knysna and Jeffrey's Bay? (UK)
A: and what did your last slave die of?
Q: Can you give me some information about Koala Bear racing in South Africa? (USA)
A: Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the pacific. A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe which does not...oh forget it. Sure, the Koala Bear racing is every Tuesday night in Hillbrow. Come naked.
Q: Which direction is north in South Africa? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 90 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.
Q: Can I bring cutlery into South Africa? (UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.
Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is...oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Hillbrow, straight after the Koala Bear races. Come naked.
Q: Do you have perfume in South Africa? (France)
A: No, WE don't stink.
Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in South Africa? (USA)
A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.
Q: Can you tell me the regions in South Africa where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes, gay nightclubs.
Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in South Africa? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.
Q: Are there killer bees in South Africa? (Germany)
A: Not yet, but for you, we'll import them.
Q: Are there supermarkets in Cape Town and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: No, we are a peaceful civilisation of vegan hunter-gatherers. Milk is illegal.
Q: Please send a list of all doctors in South Africa who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-me-ri-ca, which is where YOU come from. All South African snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.
Q: I was in South Africa in 1969, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Hillbrow. Can you help? (USA)
A: Yes, and you will still have to pay her by the hour.
Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.