On the mother of all dream quotes

As he lay with his head on my lap, hurt eyes looking up at mine, he said, "I don't mind if you fool around, as long as (you don't let me find out)."

Brain, why you give me weird, vivid dreams.

On my bed (Y U NO PUN)

I have realized that it was not the banality of William Boyd's Restless that constantly made me doze off. It's my bed. Today I tried reading Stephen King's Gunslinger whilst lying on my bed, and promptly fell asleep. Me, falling asleep reading Stephen King. That's like fish walking on land.

Wait, what, they do?

Oh damn.

Me, falling asleep reading Stephen King. That's like ... something unimaginable anyhow.

I think my bed is packed with, well, germs, definitely, but I prefer to think that it's packed with a load of sleeping powder. You lie on it and BAM you're under. The very thought of it actually makes me drowsy. And it's just me. This bed and I, we have a very special relationship, alcohol notwithstanding.

This has been a post written by someone who is neither here nor there.

On opening a Malaysian pub

Because there are simply too many German/Irish shit pubs in Penang.

My partner and I will call it BUBBA CHILLS. It will be at Kelawai Road, right next to Gurney Paraporn. Well, somewhere near that vicinity anyhow.

It will have records of classic 60's and 70's bands/singers all over, and it will play the funkiest tunes of the hey-days of rock. If anyone wants, and if they don't play shit music, they can play live at BUBBA CHILLS.

Smoking will be allowed. Matter of fact, it will be an absolute must.

There won't be peanuts served, but prawn crackers. Less messy.

We will serve good old pub food. BUBBA GRILLS. None of the inedible spaghettis and whatnot. We will serve steak, bloody and true, with a good serving of chips. We will serve Ramli burgers for just twice the price. Fish and chips, none of that Dory shit. We will serve you fish from the market if we have to!

Partner has requested for desserts. BUBBA DESSERTS. Doesn't exactly rhyme, but I haven't come up with one yet. Best I've got right now is BUBBA MEALS. For lunch, you know. Pretty neat.

And our beer will be inexpensive. None of the unpronounceable German stuff. We will serve you manly beer! Tiger! Anchor! And if possible, Buds and Red Stripes and Fosters. If you want expensive beer, go somewhere else. We just aim to get you tipsy and happy.

Now all we need are investors. Call me.

On waitressing part two

Yesterday was a bad night for me. I was daydreaming most of my shift, I couldn't concentrate, and for all the run-in sentences in the world, my nose was giving me a bitch of a time ('flu). My senior was upset with me because he had to take some orders from my table, I had no idea what 'chow mein' was, and I took orders from diners who were halfway through their starters. Not very polite.

But things improved in the end. They had to, otherwise why did someone tip me personally? And before you can say 'because you're female,' there were other waitresses there as well. Maybe it was the refill of tap water, or my insistence that they needed another bottle of J20. I don't know, all I know was that I was behind the bar drying glasses when they were leaving, and the guy just shoved some money in my face. Really. He just waved his fist full of change in front of me, and at first I had no clue what was going on, till he said, "Take it." Embarrassed much, because my bosses and my senior were watching. Oh, the teasing afterwards. Best thing was, the tipper was Chinese, and we all know how stingy we can get.

Ego boost, definitely. Made me smile the rest of the shift away. Still brings a warm feeling to my heart now, actually. Makes going to work tomorrow something to look forward to.

Afterwards, not only did my boss offer me a cigarette at the end of my shift, he offered me a beer as well! The cigarette was nothing new, but the beer was. It's pretty common here, I guess, but free beer for Julia means eternal gratitude. Dear younger boss, I will slave for you. Just don't mind me day-dreaming, as long as the beer keeps coming.

Edit: And I know that this post had nothing to do with multitasking whilst defecating. My apologies. Next time.

Edit edit: It's still snowing, bitchesssssssss.

On foggy nights

I am reminded of walking through South Park, half-drunk but scared shitless nonetheless. And yes, Jo, I will not walk in parks after dark anymore.

I was supposed to go to London today, but changed my mind when I woke up. The weather was too depressing, and besides, I'm trying to save up. So I went to the accommodations office to see if I could move out (would save me a lot on rent each month), but unfortunately it appears that I've signed a contract with the devil. No moving out until June. Even if I did, I'd have to pay till then. Aw hell. Pun intended.

So I came back to my flat grudgingly, made a mess in the kitchen cooking spaghetti, and took a nice, long nap. The way a pacifist rebels. Ain't no better way. Watched two Studio Ghibli films back to back. Could have been mistaken for John Lennon's bed protest had I had round glasses and a Jap lady with crazy hair by my side.

Pretty pointless post, taking a break from writing my utterly depressing story about a mad, mad woman.

Tomorrow's update:

Multitasking: How to defecate and change your toilet roll at the same time.

On my fourth month here

Kate Walsh playing in the background, a cup of tea in my right, a cigarette in my left, watching the snow fall outside my window. This is a moment I want to remember forever.

On Chinese New Year 2012

I went to a place called Opium Den. It's actually a restaurant, and I found the name to be on the same page as Penang's 69 by the beach. Misleading.

That was for dinner, and I paid good money for below-average crispy noodles. I don't want to start the year complaining, but damn, that was one lousy dinner. I had myself a bottle of Tiger beer, the price of which could buy two back home. But then again, I earn in an hour roughly what part-timers in Penang would earn in five. You don't convert, sometimes. For the greater good.

Walking home was fun. I tried to think of a story in my head but I guess I was having too much fun watching my own shadow. I need to get back to writing after a month's break, but I think that my New Year's resolution of writing more might have just jinxed it. Touch wood.

Halfway walking, as usual, Ms. Tan needed to pee. So she popped into a pub on the way back, had an uncomfortable pint of beer, and rushed to use the toilet upstairs. Funny place, this is. They like to put their toilets on the first floor and make you walk up flights of narrow stairs. Sadists, pure and true.

Then, because it was still early, I popped into the library to collect a book I'd reserved. There were about four other people in there, it was pretty empty for a Monday night. Normally, the lack of people and the amount of dark corners would have scared me, but I found it to be pretty cosy. Went against my jittery nature, for sure.

After that, because I didn't feel like being alone on Che Eet, I went to another pub down the road from the Uni. Had another uneventful pint, and retired home.

Sounds pretty sad, I know, compared to what people were probably doing back home. Firecrackers and gambling and stuff. But over here, it's just another night. Like what my Mongol colleague said when I wished her Happy New Year: "It's the New Year? Doesn't feel like it, huh?" On the head, girl!

Oh, and this has been my first post for the year! Dong dong chiang!

Edit: Some guy who used to live in England would have said that I lead a sad life and Manchester's a much better, happening place, but buckaroo, I've been there, and I do not like that place. This hobbit prefers more quiet, picturesque locations.

On saving up for a Ferrari

Browsing through Facebook, I saw on Lim Guan Eng's page photos of the opening of a Super Car Club. At first, I thought, 'Supercar? Do they fly and are they allergic to kryptonite? Do they wear their engines inside out?'

Then I saw a photo of a fleet of Ferraris, and I realized that 'Super Car' actually meant super expensive cars, not cars with super powers. Silly me.

I saw a photo with a group of middle-aged men, presumably the owners of the super cars. I said to myself, 'I need to bag me one of those.'

As I rolled about in bed, I scolded myself for my shallowness. Bag me a rich man just so that I'll have my own Ferrari? Christ, I don't want to do that. I'll just buy me a goddamn Ferrari with my own money. Much more gratifying.

I'll just have to take on about ten jobs, work 24 hours seven days a week, not eat, and camp in a cave. I guess I could eat, I could trap pigeons and stuff. I might even grow my own tobacco to smoke. Ferrari, you will be mine one day!

A bit of a rant

If you must know, the irony was that when I was in Penang, I could not write above three pages. Now that I am here, I cannot write below three pages. Half of it might be drivel, but one stays hopeful nonetheless.

I am only halfway through my assignment story, which has a quota of 4,500 words, and I'm already at 5,210 words. Damn. Much editing to do. Snip snip.

My glasses and I

I'm not used to wearing glasses, although I think I might need them all the time (and friends tell me that I need them every time I say I see a cute guy). Granted, when I was a child, I begged my mum to buy me glasses because they somehow had this cool factor to them. So we went to the optometrist, where I lied a bit during the eye test, and got me my first pair of glasses. I think I was nine. The frames were reddish-pink. I wore them a few times and forgot about them.

I turned twelve. Same story, same ruse, and I got me a pair of silver-framed glasses. Wore them a few times, then forgot about them.

Might have used the same ruse in secondary school.

Then I started work three years ago, and realized that all that staring at the computer screen couldn't be too good for my eyes. So I got me a pair of computer-screen glasses. I wore them at work every day.

I suppose it's all that screen-staring, or perhaps I'm just getting old. I started noticing that my eyesight wasn't too good at night, especially whilst driving. Not to the point of entirely missing the tree in front of me or anything, just distorted lights. So I went and got me a more powerful pair of glasses.

Which I'm wearing now, at this very moment. When I take them off, I tend to squint a bit. Glasses make life somewhat easier, but I always forget to wear them out. Guess I'm just self-conscious, but maybe I should start wearing them all the time. I'd probably say, 'Oh look, cute guy!' less often, if I started to, but self-delusion can be fun. Keeps ones hopes up.