Mrs Clinton as in Chelsea’s mother will be in KL this week, at the husband’s former postgrad campus. Mrs Clinton stood by her man after the whole media saga exposing his affair with the buxom Ms Monica. Mrs Clinton then wanted to be the first lady president of the United States.
I asked the husband since he got the invite for it, can I just have a picture taken with Mrs Clinton please? Cause I really like Chelsea, the daughter she raised, and although I won’t do what she did i.e stand by a cheating husband, I admire her guts for even trying to run for presidency.
I have not gotten any response to my request–yet.
Nasi Lemak Bungkus. Used to be known as Nasi Lemak 50 sen but since it’s at Bangsar, albeit from a ‘gerai’, it costs RM 1. No matter. The sambal was perfecttoooo!
Walking out to go for training, I thought I saw some glittering pearls… But they were just droplets of rain on the leaf.
But nevertheless, I think they are lovely.
And I still find it hard to believe that the image below was captured by a camera phone
I am experiencing the wonderful feeling of what the Malays call ‘Kemaruk’ at
1. Knowing how to fully operate the BB Bold
2. Knowing that for a phone camera it is a fantastic camera
3. That I don’t need the big bulky black camera of ours which has already gone kaput, or the pocket olympus which I always can’t remember where it is when I need it. My phone can capture moments just the way I want it. Although, again I remind myself, for a camera phone, it is good enough.
Spaghettini in pesto rosso, garlic+bird’s eye chilli paste and chilli tuna, grated cheddar and sprinkled dried oregano
I was on the phone with the husband at 4.18pm. We were making logistical arrangements about yesterday evening. I was to walk to Jaya Jusco at the nearby mall to get groceries supply and he would swing by after work to fetch me home, drop the groceries off and off we would go to the dojo.
This coversation happened when I was sitting on e couch by the sliding door, which was wide open and I could see the street on which our house is on clearly. It was a quiet late afternoon, breezy. Angin sepoi-sepoi bahasa, as the Malays would call it.
4.23pm. I hung up the phone and seconds after that, I heard an ear piercing scream coming from two houses down. Momentarily, I thought it must be the secondary school girls from the nearby school acting silly with the boys. Then another scream— this time by two ladies, which I recognised to be my neighbours. Before I could react, I heard more screaming from the opposite direction. It came from the few aunties who always hang out outside their houses yakking and gossiping away about everything and anything DAILY. We call this really endearing group the ‘ahli mesyuarat tingkap’. I then saw a couple of the aunties hollering and running towards the direction of the two who screamed first. They were blocked by my banana trees so I couldn’t see them clearly. A couple of seconds later, I saw a motorbike riding off, with the pillion holding their haul of two handbags and a laptop bag. They were Malays, in their 20s-whatever I could register when their bike passed by my house.
That was when I heard myself yell out loud, “ Holy SH*T!!! It’s real!!! It’s a realll godamn robbery! OH sh*t! sh*it!!!”
How does one eat his roti canai? I like mine with egg and ‘banjir’ i.e with the gravy drenched all over. And it has to be fish curry. The spicier the better. If the fish curry is not spicy enough, I would tell the mamak to add a dollop of his red fiery sambal on top of it.
When all of it is done i.e passionately savoured with each mouthful, I’ll wash it all down with teh tarik halia, slowly slurping in the frothy spicy sweetness and feel it swirl against my tongue before swallowing it down, feeling its warmth gently teasing my throat.
THAT is life, my friend.
I can imagine myself in one of these bedrooms. Simple, minimalist and opens out to the vast open space and starry nights. But at this moment, I say to myself… wishful thinking.