Moonlight Robbery

It's always nice hanging with old time friends by the seaside, singing old songs, talking about old times, playing cards, taking in the view and enjoying the cool night air. It's even nicer when there are ice cold drinks to sip while you do all that.

It's not so nice when those drinks cost a friggin' fortune!!!


Sigh.

You see, a couple of nights ago, my friends and I had the most ridiculously expensive soft drinks on the PLANET. It's insane. RM12.60 for three cans – two 100Plus and one Coke. CRAZY! That's like drinking liquefied gold, man!



It's RM4.00 per can, actually. But the bozos actually had the nerve to charge us the measly 5% government tax. ABSORB IT LA, darn it! See!

Too much, man, like that.

Aih, so what to do?

Drink up lor! Cheers!




Right down to the very last drop.

Every. Single. Sip. Counts.

The Break-Up Season 2007

I have written on this topic once before. Back on July the 11th, year 2006. Well, that year has come and gone and it's now 2007 – a brand new year. But I guess some things never change regardless of the number of years that roll by because it sure looks like that time has come around once again. Ladies and gentlemen, do yourselves a favour by keeping your heads up and your eyes open cos The Break-Up Season's back. And this time, it's back with a vengeance.


It's weird but honestly, I don't think I'm delusional. It really is a seasonal thing and it happens every year, without fail. No kiddin'. I've unconsciously kept tabs since The Break-Up Season 2005. That's three Break-Up Seasons to date. Three in a row, at more or less the same time every year – give or take a few of months. And seriously, nothing much has changed. Hearts still get broken, lives continue to get torn apart. Same old, same old.


It's scary. It really is. Nothing seems to last as long as it could. Nothing seems to work out as well as it should. Looks like everything comes stamped with a due date these days. Canned tuna, bread... and even love and relationships.

*blink blink*

I just read what I wrote. Damn, that's a scary thought – relationships with due dates. That'd be like dating a time bomb, man. No, wait. Sorry. That'd be like dating a guy, in an underground storage room filled to the ceiling with activated time bombs.

Sigh.

One thing I don't quite get about the season is this – many break-up with old flames after years of dating and start dating new lovers whom they've barely gotten to know, before the season even passes. A swap, maybe? I don't know. All I know is that it happens. It's the Spring Itch. Few actually leave committed relationships for a good dose of singlehood.


Well, the only good I can see from this is that when there are people who break-up, there are almost always those who make-up. Bad news for the former, good for the latter. Let's hope that for these fortunate few, it lasts second time around.


Well, I have to say that the realities of the season has set in for me. I'm happy for many. (Congratulations, guys!) Yet, I am deeply saddened by a number of unfortunate few who've been hit hard by the lows of the season. (My heart goes out to you.)


Yes yes, the time has come around again. It's Break-Up Season 2007. Ugh. I hate it. The negative vibes it's sending out isn't working out to well for me. I hope it passes soon.

Violated

My (other) baby's been sick. She's been sick for a while now. Asthma, wheezing, shortness of breath, respiratory tract infections – the whole works. Sigh. The poor dear's had it tough all this while. She's barely three but she's already 1,500km shy of her 50,000km service. Well, I've been pretty busy lately and just this week, I finally found the time to get her checked out.

And boy, did she get a checking out.

They assigned six men to her case. SIX MEN!
Goodness. I had no idea it was that serious.

They poked and prodded under her hood. Jabbed and messed around under there. So unnerving for me to watch such an assault on my baby. The molestation, the defiling, the dishonour. It's degrading, really. But I had to stay strong. She'll be stronger than she was before. It's for the best.

But that was before she started smokin'.

She smoked real bad.

Heck, if you look at the picture closely,
you'd notice that one of the guys
even had to fan her out!

Oh, the heartache.

Sigh.

But she's a strong girl with a bright future. She made it through the ordeal in the end. And as a result, she's breathing like a newborn baby again. Slow and steady, in an even rhythmn. I'm so proud of her.

Then came her next ordeal.

She'd hurt her wing a few months back but I never thought much about it. Knew that I'd get her fixed one day but the one day never came... till this week. Well, turns out it wasn't a sprain or a twist. In reality, she had a broken arm! Goodness! And all this time I still made her use it.

Sigh. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know.

Well, two fellas were assigned to her this time and before I knew it, she was lifting weights and pumping iron (glass, actually) with her new arm. Yay!

Here's to a new lease at life, okay?

I promise I'll continue to take good care of you.

Mwah mwah.

Alive and Clicking

And she's back!

Oh, the feel of her keys at my fingertips. The soft clicking of her mouse under the palm of my hand. The way her screen lights up my face (literally). The green glow of her plugged in power cable against my desk. Mmm mmm mmm. I love it!


Those two days of comp-less-ness is not something I'd want to relive anytime soon. Never in a million years. It's torture! How I could have survived before the Internet age, I don't know. It's an impossibility in this day and age. Thank goodness my baby's come back to me. It's been far too long. I don't think I would have made it through another day without her presence.

Sigh.


Being comp-sick is no fun at all.
Not even if you get an MC for it.

Hee Haw Ciap Kut Cham Tai Ti

Hee hee hee, haw haw haw.

Lu ai Ong.
(English Translation: You want King.)

Oo Ong liao lu Song.
(English Translation: Got King di you feel good.)

Song liao lu Tan.
(English Translation: Feel good already, you make sounds.)




Hee hee hee, haw haw haw.

IMMMB

I miss my MacBook.
I miss my MacBook.
I miss my MacBook.
I miss my MacBook.
I miss my MacBook.


------------

I just realised I've had 44 posts in 26 days. That's an average of 1.69230769 posts a day. Hmmm. Not a bad string of numbers for a part-time blogger, I'd say. Not bad at all. I'd give myself a pat on the back. Definitely.


You know, sometimes I wonder if I talk too much. But then again, blogging isn't exactly talking, now is it? It's writing. Different means of passing on information equals different word quota, right?


Right. =)

Well, looks like the 27th day of the month has come and gone. The days pass by too quickly nowadays. Before I know it, Tomorrow's back again, knockin' on my front door at my front porch. Sigh. Tomorrow's gonna be another long day so I guess it's time I hit the sack. This is me, signing off with post #45.


Have a good night, y'all.


p/s: I'm still missing my MacBook.

One Or The Other

One or the other.


Why does it always have to be one or the other?
Do we really have to choose between one or the other?
Why!? That's difficult! Why can't we just have both?


Sigh.


All I want is a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Is that really too much to ask for? Come on. It's not like I'm asking for every bit of everything. I really don't think that I'm being that unreasonable about it at all. All I want is my fair share of what's good for me... from BOTH sides of the fence. Gimmie my measure of the green grass, too, damn it! Don't make me stand by and accompany the weeds.


Sigh.


Well, the lucky ones at least get to choose which one they'd rather as opposed to the other. Unfortunately for me, I don't have that luxury – the luxury of choice. Not right now; not anymore. And where does that put me? In not that great a place, that's where.


So, friends, here I am,
standing on one side
looking over at the other.


Damn, it sure is lookin' mighty green over there.

Ice Ice Baby!

I feel like havin' me some ice cream.

------------


p/s: If any of you have the Ice Ice Baby MP3 by Vanilla Ice,
do send it over okay? Am suddenly very much in the mood
to bounce to it. Thankyou you ah, thankyou you!

Gangster Grandma

Adults always fight to pay when they're on a night out. I'm only halfway there but I have to admit that I do it, too. Haha. It's almost like a default reaction when I'm in a situation that calls for that response. So... yeah. Adults tend to fight over who pays the bill at the end of dinner. Sometimes I wonder if they really want to pick up the tab. Perhaps they just do it out of courtesy. Or maybe it's obligation. Hmmm. I don't know.

-----------

They both wanted to pay.

He was a frequent visitor... she wasn't.

The bill came.


He said, "Eh, jangan ambik dari dia. Ambik dari saya."


He won, for the other he did just that
– take the money from him... not from her.

Uh oh. Die.

The poor guy was suddenly on the receiving end of an 80-year perfected Death Stare. She stretched out an old, crooked finger wrapped in wrinkly skin, pointed it straight at him and said...

"Siapa panggeh lu buat itu macam?
Wa bagi lu dulu lu ta mau ambik.
Wa ingat sama lu ah. Lu jaga.
WA INGAT SAMA LU."


-----------


*blink blink*

Wa manyak takut.

You've Got To Move It Move It

Who needs men when it's the ladies

who give us, other ladies, pretty red roses...

...and yummy heart-shaped cookies.

I think that men of the world need to buck up a little, for there are fantastic women out there who aren't exactly feelin' the love. What are you guys doin', man!? GET MOVING!

PassionatelyPairedPoopPaper

I can't help but find this picture unbelievably romantic.

Sigh.

How come my toilet roll not here?

Little Packets of Heaven

Okay. This is the way it's gonna go. I'll ask something of you, and what you're gonna do is say, "Of course, Pam. Anything for you."

Clear?

Okay.

Bear in mind that from this moment on, it's Covetousness, Hunger and Greed doing the talking on my behalf. Hence, I'm gonna appear real cheapo but you guys know that I'm not really like that, right? Because it's not really me who's talking, right?

*grin*

Here goes.

IF ANY OF YOU FLY WITH MALAYSIA AIRLINES,
GET ME THOSE MINI PACKETS OF KACANG MASIN!




I WANT!

*blink blink*

Please?

*puppy dog eyes*

So No Kick

I'm sitting here at a desk – an unfamiliar desk, on an unfamiliar chair. I'm typing this from a comp – an unfamiliar comp, with an unfamiliar keyboard. It's uncomfortable. It's different. It feels odd. Somewhat "off". Like something just isn't right. It's not right. How can I be posting from another comp but my own? Nooooo.

Why?

Because my beloved MacBook G4 is dead.

What a depressing sight.

Breaks my heart to see you this way.


*blink blink*


Darn it, I'm finding it real hard to swallow the fact
that my comp is actually dead.

How can I go on without you? I can't. I can't possibly do this on my own. My journey here on Tinki Talks will never be the same without you by my side. We started this journey together on the 23rd of February. Only a month ago. Exactly a month ago. 28 wonderful days together with 50 posts to our name. We have done considerably well for such a short span of time, I suppose. Seems like it's been forever, though. Sigh. My angel in white. My white stallion. My white MacBook.


Sigh.

My only condolence is that it's only your physical body that has died. For even in death, your brain lives on. It has survived the ordeal, and it lives to face another day, thanks to your fighting spirit. Your inner strength is commendable. And for that, I salute you.


Problem is... Now, I type also no kick, write also no kick, post also no kick, man. Sigh. How to tahan like that!? Cannot laaaa. Cannot.

Come back to me soon,
O MacBook kesayangan ku.

I will wait for you.

Who!?

I happened to decide to check my Technorati status just minutes ago and found that Tinki Talks was linked to a blog I didn't recognize. Hmmm. Curious, I clicked on the link to find out who the mystery blogger was. I didn't know then that I was in for a pleasant surprise.


You see, I haven't been there for ages but I'm jumping for joy now because I'm still classified as a City Harvest Blogger! Woo hoo! Look! Look!

Aww. Isn't that sweet?

The link is to THIS version of Tinki Talks and not TOTT summore. Happening. I didn't even know that the fella read my posts! Tersentuh pula hati I. Haha.

But only the three of us?
I'm scared.

Haha.

Worry not.
Your heading will be accurate.
I'll be back there in no time!

Together-gether

As I was doing a sweep through the various image banks for dirty potties for the sake of my previous post, I stumbled upon the cutest picture ever!

Aiyo! So cute, right!? That's it la. I've decided. My mind has been made. I want my kid to poo with me. The future has been determined and all efforts to achieve that shall be set into motion. I just need to find me the right carpenter and a real good potty maker.

----------


Baby, you'll poo right by my side.
We can even hold hands while we do it. =)

Dumb Dump!

I wanted to take a dump last night.

(Yes, we girls have to shit, too.
Plus, since we're on this, FYI, our shit
doesn't exactly smell as heavenly as we do.
It probably smells a little like yours.
But just a little. I'm sure yours stinks better.)

Even cute little girls poo.

But, I couldn't.

Not because of constipation problems. Not because of the unavailability of a proper toilet for use. No no. Those are very valid reasons for not clearing my bowel system. I'd understand and I would definitely not have been as pissed as I was.

Heck, I was furious!
Slam all doors and leave me alone
while I stab and mangle my many pillows!

Why?

Because last night, I found that
both toilets in my house just wouldn't flush.

Stop thinking that I shat and left my shit to float around the bowl. I didn't. I'm not as gross as you would like to think I am. Hah! Perhaps it's what YOU would have done... but I'm not you. I'm civilized, yo. My story comes PRE-poo. Learn a bit.


So the story goes like this. I flushed Toilet #1 seven times in my attempt to clear the leftovers from whoever used the loo before I wanted to. SEVEN! Even then, nothing went down. So there I was with a pain in my tummy, all the whilst fighting the flush system with both hands and a hose. Why there were clumps of tissue floating in yellow water in there in the first place is beyond me. Heck, if there's something I cannot take in my home, it's a dirty bathroom. And if there's something else I just won't stand for, it's taking a dump in a toilet that hasn't been flushed clean. Have someone else's discharge float just inches away from me while I sit and proceed to do business?! I WILL NOT HAVE IT! Only SENDIRIAN BERHAD toilet water for me, thank you very much!

Sigh.

I finally gave up in frustration and stomped out of the Toilet #1. After expressing my immense anger to comforting ears across the miles, I proceeded to give Toilet #2 a shot at shit.


See, Toilet #2 is known as The Dog's Toilet. I don't fancy putting my butt where my dog does. Call me old-fashioned, call me conventional – I don't care. My shit pot is MY shit pot and I'm not about to share it with no dog. It's just gross.


But yesterday was different. Dire situations call for extreme measures. In desperation, I went all out in a Clean-My-Dog's-Toilet Campaign. I sprayed, I watered, I scrubbed and I wiped. I don't think I ever used as much toilet paper in my life. And by the end of all my hard work, guess what.

THE STUPID TOILET JUST WOULDN'T FLUSH!!!

Too much!

Worse was by then, I had my very own toilet paper Everest from my Clean-My-Dog's-Toilet Campaign floating around and around with glee! Hello!? The stupid toilet paper is enjoying a nice jacuzzi and I can't even take a dump!? What is the meaning of this!?

FED UP!

My house has friggin' lousy flush systems la!

L-O-U-S-Y.

Honestly though, I blame the maid. I have reason to believe that she's been stuffing newspaper down the toilet when we're not watching. I'm not prejudiced. I say it with a clear conscience.

Damn it, I really should skin that woman alive.

AARRRGGGHHH! FRUS!

What's the point of having toilet bowls in the house
when none of them freaking work!?

Bloody hell, I can't even take a dump in my own home.
How friggin' sad is that!?

Fed up.

VisualDNA™

This, I like.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

To Khayal Or Not To Khayal?

Breaking News:

AUSTRALIAN ANGEL STRIKES AGAIN.

In the nicest of ways, of course... =)

Aiyoooo! So schweet! A little snippet from her post that's dedicated to me? I like, I like, I like! And with pretty wedding gowns at that! I like even more! How come Malaysian bridal shops don't carry stuff like these? Sigh. So not fair. I want more pics!!!

The one on the right's a real beauty. Think I'll look too scrawny in the one on the left, thanks to the tight bodice and the bound waist. The one on the left would help me pretend I had the extra pounds around the hip area. Haha. You know what they say about women with hips the size and girth of kualis, don't you? And who knows, with that dress on the right, the in-laws and extended families on both sides could possibly be fooled delirious with thoughts of future grandchildren running around the house and all that already. Everybody would then successfully be in a happy-happy-joy-joy state of mind, making the wedding a huge success. HAHA. Tra-la-la-la-la.

---------


I'm remembered!
Kept in mind and always in thought!
Ahhh. So nice.

The Nice And The Not-So-Nice

You know how some friends just know the right thing to say to cheer you up and splash a smile across your face after you've dragged yourself through a lousy day? And you know how some of them just know the right thing to say to make your day a million times better? Well, looks like I need me more of them cos I just realised that my crummy friends really outweigh my good ones. How sad is that? Just look at what they say to me la.

Aih. Sakit saja. Sigh.

How to live like that? It's almost like they deliberately and intentionally look for new and innovative ways to break my already fragile heart into a zillion little pieces.

*wipes tear then frowns*


I LOOK THAT BAD MEH!?




Sheesh.


I think I need to find me more new friends
who'd say nice things like...

SAW THAT!? I look cute. Hah! CUTE! And don't give me that ugly-but-adorable crap. I'm not buying it. That friend meant BABY-cute. I know she did.

*takes deep breath*

Thank goodness I have some friends who say nice things about me. They don't exactly balance out the scale but it sure as hell is better than nothing. Sniffle.


p/s: I'll be holding auditions soon. A search for new friends. I'm not very particular. You just have to say some nice things to me once in awhile. Feminist haters need not apply.

Hello, Freaksville! I'm Back.

• Part 1: I'm Weird
• Part 2: I'm VERY Weird

No need for introductions. Enough has been said.

Today, I stand at #10.

10. I always, always, always put songs on repeat. If you've been a reader from my TOTT days, you'd know. Heh. I love music. No-music-no-life and all that. To the avid music lover, torrent-ing becomes an euphoric experience. Yes yes, euphoric. Haha. And after every download, iTunes' repeat mode becomes my favourite button of all time. I've got thousands upon thousands of songs in my playlist but I tend to get stuck on certain tracks on and off... and there goes the rest. Right out the window. Sigh. My play count category on iTunes just looks, uh... weird.


11. I colour code my wardrobe in organized sections. I'm pretty particular about my clothes. I wouldn't say that I'm totally anal about it all but it's just that I like it better this way. It's a preference, not an essential requirement. Let me explain. My clothes are, first, arranged according to sections (i.e. jeans, shorts, sports/exercise pants, t-shirts, baby-tees, dresses, blouses, shirts, slacks, etc...). Once they're correctly placed within those sections, they're then arranged according to colour (i.e. reds, greens, blues, yellows, whites, blacks, etc...). Wait, I'm not done. After that, within the confines of the various colour categories, they are arranged according to colour shades and tones (i.e. from the darkest blue to the lightest one). Ahhh. I love my wardrobe. Oh yeah, and just so you know, they're also arranged according to length and width, too! But, uh... let's not go into that. *grin*


12. I never touch chicken. Firstly, it's a freaking bird, man. Who'd ever want to touch a bird?! Anyone with half a brain would know better than to do that. Ever heard of SARS!? It kills! Haiyo. Those winged creatures are a health hazard. Wise up! Be like me. I'm smart. I use the help of handy cutleries – the fork and knife. Civilization rocks. Alternatively, thick rubber gloves (the kind people use to wash toilets) work pretty well, too. So, yeah. From the moment I make the purchase to the point I gobble it all down, Mr Chicken and I don't make physical contact. At all.


13. I love doing laundry. MY laundry. (Heh. I'm not taking the chance of any of you taking advantage of me for free laundry services. Just thought it'd had better be made clear from the start. *grin* Hah! Busted!) So anyways, I love doing laundry. It's therapeutic. Very relaxing. It clears my mind and helps me de-stress. When I do my laundry, I feel in tune with my feminine side (and I get a teeny tiny kick from feeling that way). Plus, I love the smell of soap powder and softener (Go, Softlan!). It makes me feel all fuzzy inside. Makes me want to snuggle. And I love snuggling. Mmm, heavenly! Yeah, I'd take a clean pile of clothes to a dirty one any day. And I just wanted to end this with... NOTHING IS FREE IN THIS LIFETIME, bozo! Wake up! Free laundry services? Pfft. Go wash your own clothes.


14. I'm really anal about ironing. Really anal. I can't stand slip shot ironing. Unsightly creases, uneven lines, print smears... Yuck! I HATE print smears. Pam's Commandment #11 – Never EVER smear the print on her clothes. She'll crucify you and while you're on your way to PrintSmear Hell, she'll personally brand you with her super power PrintSmear killer steam iron. You see, I believe in perfection when it comes to ironing. It's an art form, really. If you studied the grace of an iron on a piece of clothing, you'd see the beauty of it all. Every article neatly pressed, every line parallel to the other, every crease evened out, and every fold deliberate. When it comes to ironing, there shall be no room for mistakes, and no excuses to be made. I mean serious business. Never mess with Pam when she has an iron in her hand.

*blink blink*

Tags are bad. Tags are very unhealthy.
Tags should be banned for the good of mankind.

Sigh.

No wonder I never took them seriously before and never did any even if I got tagged... till this once. Sigh. Bad move on my part. It looks like the effects are longterm ones and that's definitely bad when we're talking about I-Am-Weird topics. This is so ruining my reputation, man. Bad, bad, bad.

Need. To. Stop. This. Tag.

Help. I need help.

Colourful Candy. Not.

The Art of Disguise.

The medical world has definitely wised up. No longer does medication come in plain white capsules and boring ol' tablets. Today, they come all dressed up in shiny two-coloured capsules and cute little yellow tablets. Some even come with funky engraved designs.

See la. Don't play play.

It amazes me – the amount of effort they put into making these pills look good. It's like an art form. A whole new other area of design. Heck, I wonder if there's a Pill/Tablet/Medicine Design course out there. Heh.

But why go through all that trouble?

Because they all know that a good disguise
masks whatever's rotten on the inside.

Sure, I'd say that their ploy worked. That's why children often mistake these little poison pills for candy. I don't blame them. These pills do look all nice and enticing anyways. Even I like the way they look. The difference is that I just don't want to have to stuff them down my throat. Not now, not ever. I hate being on medication. I hate having to remember to even take them. I hate having to work my meals around my doses. I hate having to force them down my throat.

I hate you.

You don't fool me with that disguise.
You don't fool me one bit.

Wa Beh Hiao "Bowl" Laaa

I've been invited for a bowling night out.

HOW?!

Si liao la zhi tau.

I haven't bowled in a decade (I'm not kidding) and as far as my memory serves me, I used to suck at it. I can't bowl for nuts. I'm sorry. Correction. I can't even bowl for friggin' peanut skin, man.

Orang Utans bowl better than I do.

*blink blink*

No, wait. That's not a good enough comparison. They resemble us too much. They've got hands, legs and opposable thumbs, just like we do.

Dolphins bowl better than I do.

*blink blink*

No no, that doesn't work either. Marine biologists have recently discovered that dolphins have evolved opposable thumbs. Plus, they're pretty darn smart for marine mammals. It's gotta be something else.

Aha! I got it.

Earthworms bowl better than I do.

*grumble grumble*

When one goes bowling
but doesn't exactly know how to bowl,
all one does is pay good money
to wear other people's smelly old shoes.

– pamsong, 15th of March 2007

*grumble grumble*

If I'm going to pay to roll big round balls heavier than a baby down a straight lane all night long, all I have to say it that the company had better be good. Whatever the case, I'll shoot anyone who even dares stifle a giggle. Laugh and I'm slamming a bowling ball into your face. I promise you, I will.

----------

p/s: If you didn't know, March happens to be

America's National Peanut Month.
Yeah, them Americans celebrate everything.

And Then There Were Three

Started my day with two fantastic kisses and joy of joys, I actually got a smashing (or smacking, rather) third kiss right after coming back from lunch!

A parcel direct from the US of A!




Woo hoo hoo!

Look at that, man. What a beauty!

And when I turned it over,
my heart instantly melted and turned into goo.




Dear American Sunshine knocked on my door
and called me Sunshine instead!

So there I was, excited as a bunny on a carrot high, running here and there looking for a penknife. COME ON, darn it! Where is that blasted blade!? My patience is wearing thin and I don't know how much longer I can wait!

Oh. There it is.

*snip snip cut cut slice slice*

AAAAAAAHHH!!!

I can hardly believe it! A whole parcel filled with candy-coloured, fancy-schmancy, artsy-fartsy, oh-so-pretty goodies, all just for me! Whoopie! I show you! I show you!!!

*blink blink*

Amboi! Excited-nye I! Haha.
Tapi tak apa. Patut.

*grin*

Dear American Sunshine gave me a stack of uber-cool themed scrapbook stickers. Check them out, man.

I drooled over these in Perth when I was there for a visit a couple of years back. Loved them. I even stood along the aisle, staring at rows and rows of them for hours (literally). Didn't make a purchase worth my time there though. Haha. Only got two sets. Was way to kiam siap to buy them myself.

*blush*


But... Never fear when American Sunshine is here!
Now, I have 'em!!! Wahahaha. And so many varieties, too!

And that ain't all of it yet.

I got pretty twill phrases! Uh... BABY twill phrases.
Hmmm. I don't know what to make of that.




*kid craze vibe slowly kicking in*

Uh oh. Dangerous territory.

*cold sweat*

Have. To. Move. On.

Look! I also got self adhesive mini metal stickers (the size of regular buttons) that are simply gorgeous! So cute right? Beh tahan ah!

Wait wait! Got summore!

Okay, as for this one, there's a rationale behind it. American Sunshine isn't daft. She does everything with a purpose and an objective. Her direction is clear and her intention, obvious. I know she bought this for me because I'm sweet. I just know it. I feeeeel it in my bones. Yes yes. American Sunshine is a smart one. I am proud of her.

Think that's it? No way, man! More to come!

Next up, there's the very serious, very tough-looking dog bone clips. The only gift in the pack that didn't come candy-coloured.

JENG JENG JENG.

Oh, the terror. Boring silver Malaysian paperclips, you better run to save your sorry metal ends. These clips aren't just all growl and padded feet. They bite.

Next!

A full bridal set complete with shoes, a handbag, an invitation card and a transparent veil. Oh, and two little pink hearts. What's a marriage without little pink hearts, eh? But, hmmm. It's all very pretty and interesting but... I wonder what it all means. You see, there was this phase where American Sunshine and I wanted to get married so badly. Doesn't matter who the groom is, it's the ceremony that counts. Walk down the aisle alone also nevermind. As long as get to walk enough. Haha. So with this... Could it be that she's giving me my chance to play dress up? Dress size a tad too small? (Understatement of the year, I know.) Don't care! Will. Squeeze. In.

And then, it looks like there's no escaping the baby factor.




Haha.

Dear American Sunshine knows me all too well.

But...

*blink blink*

Wait. A. Minute.

*stares at all three packs*


What.


Is.


The meaning.


Of this?!


Semua cha bo baby punya!?
Could it be a sign!?
A prediction by the Sunshine Goddess!?

YEEEESSSS!

*punches fist into air*

I can't wait to welcome my baby girl into the world. I think I should start getting mittens – little pink mittens befitting of a princess. I could get them from Amazon. They're really sweet.

Heh. Sweet leh.


*blink blink*


Okay, that's it.
I think I need to get a grip
before I start thinking about buying pink prams.

Well, I really love the many many gifts but the best of all the gifts came in the least dressing. Good stuff comes in simple forms, my friends.

The gift that meant the most.

---------------------
Personal Message
---------------------

Dear American Sunshine,

Only a handful of people know me well enough
to get me gifts I'd like enough to get for myself.
You're one of them. And just so you know,
everything you wished for me, you have given me.
I found Comfort, Smiles, Rainbows, Laughter,
Sunsets (and plenty of Sunshine), Hugs,
Beauty, Friendships (yours), Faith, Confidence,
Courage, Patience and Love... in your friendship.

Love,
pamsong

The Dawn of a Brand New Day

I love being kissed!!!

And trust me when I say that this time,
I'm not referring to kisses such as those in my last post
(although those kisses are pretty darn good too).

Come lookie lookie at my two beautiful,
oh-so-heartwarming Good Morning kisses.

See! Two kisses and it isn't even lunchtime yet! How nice! This is so the right way to start my day, man. I so could do with getting kissed every day because it's like, you know... So, like... You know? So... sigh-worthy.

Sigh.

Wheee! Tinki very happy!

I Bloody Want THAT!

Yes yes, my msn nick. Some of you have asked what the "THAT" was. And well, it's time to reveal what the mystery "THAT" actually is. It isn't anything ground-breaking or life-changing so don't be disappointed when you find out what the hype is about, okay. Haha.


So let's begin with the introductions. It all started when Australian Angel and I were chatting online (I was having a private Cheer-Me-Up Session) and she sent me a link with a note.

Well, I clicked on it but thought to myself,
"What now la. Can so power meh?"

Little did I know… ya lor! VERY POWER!
Didn't think that I'd like it so much.
It's a damn good link! Check it out!

*excitedly points below*

And as you can see, I took the liberty
AND EFFORT to embed it right here for you.


*blink blink*

Okay, so I'm lying. It's here so that I don't have to surf when I feel the need watch other people kiss (did I just say that?) and I can watch it over and over and again while I continue to drool over their on-the-spot-I-jump-into-your-arms kiss.

See? Now, THAT… was so very the THAT, right?!

Heck, I wanna be kissed that way, too! Damn it.
And I know I'm not the only girl who wants this kind of THAT.

Huffs.

And The Crapping Continues...

And I'm back!

Remember that friend I spoke about that time?
Well, she bounced back with a reply on her blog!

Jeng jeng jeng!

Haha. But, worry not for Tinki's safety. There wasn't a cat fight, we weren't at each other's throats, and we didn't trade scratches. Call back all ambulances for all limbs and eyeballs are in place. And to all you sickos out there, sorry but there's no drama for you here. We're adults. Mature adults… who only trade girlie spats on our blogs for kicks. =p

Well, I spat not this time for I've been listed
as one of her "Blogs Worth Reading"!


*jump*


[Click on image to enlarge if you're half blind.]


Wow.

I feel like I've just won an Oscar at the Academy Awards for blogs.
(Blog-scar just sounded lame so I decided to scratch that.)


And she even said…



*gasp*

I inspire her?

How cool is that?

I feel like a proud mother already! (Except with no massive stretch marks on my tummy and no baby to hold. Bleh.) Okay la. That's it. By hook or by crook, I'm getting my name etched in the great books of history – right between Mother Theresa's and Gandhi's. Remember me now, for they will call me "The Inspirer". (I'll make them.)

And dear friends, this is my favourite part of all time.




Holy smokes!
I HAVE A FAN!!!
That freaking rocks, wei.
Aww, so meng-kamtong-kan!
My very first one!




*fans (no pun intended) eyes
to keep tears from blotching imaginary make-up*


*takes deep breath*

"So thank you all for this amazing award. *sob* First, I'd like to thank God for giving me this amazing gift – the gift of being able to crap stuff outta me that people actually like. *sniffle* And next, I'd like to thank my friends and family for putting up with my incessant crapping all this while. And last but not least, my heartfelt thanks goes out to my one-person-only fan base. You make it all worthwhile. And before they brush me off the stage, thank you all so much. Have a good night. *choke* Kiss kiss."

*walks off imaginary stage
to the imaginary sounds
of an imaginary full orchestra*

Tinki I Miss

I miss you too, babe.

Heaps.

I Got Married

She said, "You got the award because you got married maaa."


*blink blink*


SAY WHAT!?!
How come even I dunno wan?!
Who in the world did I marry? WHO!?


"Uh… I mean, MERIT," she corrected herself with a giggle.


*wipes sweat from brow*


Phew. Talk properly la next time.

I Have Not Been Forsaken

Artist: Hillsong United
Song Title: None But Jesus

In the quiet, in the stillness
I know, that You are God
In the secret of Your presence
There I am restored

When You call I won't refuse
Each new day again I’ll choose

[CHORUS]
There is no one else for me
None but Jesus
Crucified to set me free
Now I live to bring Him praise

In the chaos, in confusion, I know
You’re sovereign still
In the moment of my weakness
You give, me grace to do Your will

So when You call I won’t delay
Bless my soul, through all my days

[BRIDGE]
All my delight is in You, Lord
All of my hope, all of my strength
All my delight is in You, Lord
Forevermore

I have allowed the pressures and traumas of my very temporary existence here on Earth cloud my view of the works of Your hands. I've lost sight of its majestic beauty and awesome wonder. I lost it all in less than 24 hours. Sigh. I want to wow at Your mind-boggling, mind-blowing, jaw-dropping Creation again. I want to enjoy this life I lead. I want to celebrate every day like it's going to be my last.

Help me do that.

Your Word tells me that You will never leave me nor forsake me.

I am not alone.

"In the quiet, in the stillness
I know, that You are God
In the secret of Your presence
There I am restored"


"In the moment of my weakness
You give, me grace to do Your will"

Restore me, O God, for I am weak. Give me strength for the journey that lies ahead. And in all things, I pray that You help me do only what is pleasing before Your eyes.

"There is no one else for me
None but Jesus"

---------------------
Deuteronomy 31:6
---------------------

6 Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them;
for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you.
He will not leave you nor forsake you.”

– New King James Version (NKJV)
Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Home? What Home?

I want my own place. I don't need a huge place. I'm not looking for a bungalow on a hill with a garden large enough to build a thousand annexes. No no, a small one would do. A tiny two-bedroom apartment would suffice. In fact, it would do just nice. I'd be contented for it'd be my space. My very own little Shangri-La where I escape the realities of the life I lead.

The house I get to call my home.

I'd get to play House. But in real life. I'd decorate it. I'd dress it up. Each room, different and special in its own way. But together, they complement one another like peanut butter and jelly. Contrasting but never conflicting, they bring to mind parallel lines that may never meet but will always go along their merry way, contented by being side by side, and moving together in fluid harmony.

Sigh.

I want my own place.