I thought this one was right on the spot.

more cat pictures

I’m home! Damn, camping was sooo good. I almost forgot I have exams to prepare for.

Hero is back home for goooood! Yay! Now lets count the days before we get sick of each other. Day 5 and counting…hahaha!

A month ago, Hero got annoyed when I ‘accidentally’ told him the winner of Contender Asia. His exact words was: “Oh you damn women! You blurt out everything!” and instead of being sorry or offended, I laughed my flat butt off. It’s one of the sports Hero and I try to engage each other in, annoying each other at times just to keep things interesting. He usually wins because he farts smelly-ly. I wish I have a smelly fart too.

Turns out I don’t have to go through all the trouble downloading Contender Asia for him because it’s now out on Fox8, every Thursday (take note of that, everyone!).

I came over to his place Thursday night and IMMEDIATELY he bragged about having already watched the first series. He knew I’ve only watched episode 5, 6, 7 and 8 fully. What he didn’t know…was that I’ve watched all the matches, from the first episode til the last. Tee hee hee hee!

“Contender Asia was on today baby, just before you got here,” he said when we were engaged in doona tug-of-war. “I recorded it for you. I’m telling you nothing.”

“Oh, the one with Trevor vs Nareupol?” I said. “Trevor fought well didn’t he? But you can’t beat a Thai in their own sport!”

Jaw drop. Then, “f******g women!”

GREAT HUGE BIG LAUGH, from yours truly!

Me: I can also tell you who fought and won for next week….

Hero: No! NOOOO! Don’t f*****g tell me! Argh! F**k!

Me: BWAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAA!

I woke up very early the next day without even bothering to shower or change. In my nightie, I wrestled the remote from Hero, kick him out of the comfy chair and demanded he put on Contender Asia.

Heh, I’m joking. I don’t do that to my man. I doubt I can even pull him out of his chair if I summoned all my strength (yes, I’ve tried this when I tried putting him to bed when he was pissed drunk. I learnt early to just leave him wherever he’s sleeping if he’s out. No use wasting your energy, plus, I will get the whole big bed to myself! I can roll from one end to the other end without a log blocking me, hahahah! Woooo hooo!).

Actually, I asked nicely and if you ask a man nicely in your nightie, that gets you everywhere, no?

Aaaah, Foxtel is gooooood, TiVo is gooooood.

Aaaah.

Hero coming home tomorrow (he better be!) so heading to the Coast straight after work.

Off to 4WDing and camping Friday afternoon and coming back Monday morning.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

“To be beautiful, all a woman needs is a black pullover and a black skirt and to be arm in arm with a man she loves.”

Too right.

The owner of that quote passed away yesterday’s evening.

Wait til the day I can afford your garb and see me work it from wherever you are, oh yeah!

Ok, clarification for you die-hard geeks/nerd out there? If you think I’m summoning Morpheus of The Matrix, I’m deeply scandalized. It’s not him, ok? To some other, possibly cooler, humans, it can mean Morpheus of the Greek mythology or Morpheus of The Sandman, either which I don’t mind. But NOT Morpheus of The Matrix. It annoys me to no end when people think that the Hollywood industry is so creative to come up with these kind of names, without knowing that it has existed almost a millennia. Don’t people read history anymore? Mythology? Not to mention I was annoyed at what I feel was “intellectual superficiality” of The Matrix franchise. I go to sleep watching The Matrix and I have never understood what is the appeal of a “stupid-but-somewhat intelligent-too emo-gah, I dunno how else to describe him!” Neo. Jeez, even the name is a bully-magnet. If I know a kid who acts like him with the name “Neo” in high school, I could have possibly beat him up myself, which is saying a lot because I’m not the kind of person who care the least about ongoings in high school.

Anyway…

It’s 2.20am, Monday morning. I’m bleary eyed from studying. I have 9am-12pm class tomorrow and then cover for a co-worker that had fallen sick, 1.30pm. Which means I need to wake up around 6.30ish to cook lunch. Will reach home from work 7pm and will head to the library/lab at possibly 9pm. The prospect is scaring me.

Anyway, before I go to bed, I’d like to make this announcements:

1. As requested last Christmas by my hunky man, it is now confirmed that I will move to the Coast where he is based.
2. I’m confirmed to do my Masters and will commence July 28^th.
3. I will officially complete my current studies (Bachelor program) 20^th June.
4. The graduation ceremony will be 14^th August.

Do I hear some ‘yays’?

Side note: I will only graduate from my current institution, and be eligible for Masters, providing I pass everything this semester.

So I’ve been much busier recently. Because of the recent sick wave, I’ve been putting in more hours at work to cover sick people left right center. See, this is the advantage and disadvantage of being me. The advantage is that if I’m sick, I’m healed so quickly. All I need is a complete rest, full hours sleep and I need to sweat. Special case is tonsillitis and conjunctivitis, the two sickness I get at least once every year. It’s hard for my tonsillitis to heal simply because I can’t stop eating spicy food. As for conjunctivitis, it’s because it’s viral. But even then I heal faster than most people from these two sickness.

Oh, and while we mention conjunctivitis? Truthfully, it is the sickness that I welcome every time. Because it’s contagious, I’m usually not allowed to be around people. I will get strict warnings to quarantine myself. That is possibly the only time in the year I will be left COMPLETELY alone and I don’t need long-winding reasons why I can’t hang out with anyone. And hell and damnation, I WISH I have conjunctivitis now so that people can just lay off my back for a minute. I wish some people would understand when I’m not studying, I’m working and when I’m not doing both, I’m catching up on eating and sleeping. I did not lose this weight from any conscious effort. I lose this weight because I’m time starved and eating seems to take up too much time. My time priorities from the most important order is : studying, working, sleeping, eating.

Understand that it is a tragedy for someone like me who likes eating so much to put eating as my last priority in everything. And when that happens, understand that it is serious!

In addition to that, I’ve been busy working together with the agent who handles my applications. I have to apply for credit exemptions before I can even finalise my enrolment to Masters.

You know, all I want is to sit down properly, have a great big feed and sleep for a full 8 hours.

Just for one day.

I’m not asking much.

This whole thing is not even a joke anymore. Diabolical proportions. I’m taking a break from studying today. I don’t care. And tomorrow I will get meself a Brown Brothers.

Hero once was surprised when he found out that I drink Brown Brothers.

“You know it’s 5% alcohol, right?”

“Yes. Of course.” It is wine after all. What is this guy getting at?

“Beer is also 5% alcohol.”

“Yes. Apparently.”

“So why do you say you don’t drink?”

“Says who I don’t drink? I don’t drink BEER. If you haven’t noticed by now, I have been downing wines. Of various kinds. I just happen to like Brown Brothers ones better. I don’t like the taste of beer.”

It didn’t matter to Hero. Now he knows he’s not dating such a teetolar he’s as happy as they come. I tell you; sometimes all he wants is for me to join him drinking. I knew it long ago. And deep down inside I know that in addition to the usual “milk-OJ-chocolate” supplies he always stock his fridge with before I come over, he will throw in the wine.

From now on he’ll be downing the beer and I’ll be downing the Brothers.

Oh. And a year ago today, Hero picked up the phone and first called me.

Alright. Enough of that. I’m bloghopping. And I need my wine.

I hate you all, professors. I hate, hate, hate, hate you all.

(This entry was written on Uni’s computer, without my Windows Live Writer. Apologies for the messy layouts. I HATE not being able to justify my paragraphs. I’m anal-retentive like that.)

So I’m properly back in Brisbane.

My man is away working again and this time it’s a month stretch. So the boss says but we know how that can turn out! The previous away job was supposed to be a 2 weeks deal.

It turned into a four month long separation.

Gah.

So I’ve delayed updating because honestly there hasn’t been anything new to say. I packed up and camped at Hero’s for a week, commuting for an hour to Brisbane almost everyday for classes and work. When not commuting, I’m holed up at home playing the excellent girlfriend (ehem) who magically juggles assignment and studying for midterm test while making dinner.

Ok. Not really. A lot of our dinners for the past 2 weeks were deliveries because I was too busy doing work and he was too busy wanting to be lazy. In fact, I’ve only cooked twice during my 2 weeks stay. That was when I was sick of eating Western (pizzas, steaks, pies and whatnots) and subjected everyone in the house to go Asian (rice, people, rice!). Hero made steak most times and my oh my, my man can REALLY cook steak! Yummmm.

Other than that it’s just lounging around and trying to sort out the details of my impending move to Hero’s side. To be honest, I’m apprehensive about the move. A lot of my friends and a big part of my life has been Brisbane. My friends are here. My hangouts are here. My shopping haunts are here.

To move to another place will mean starting from the beginning. Finding new friends. Finding new haunts. Discovering new hangouts. At this age making friends is trickier with everything else you have to juggle in life, I think. This is not to say I’m not moving. I’m 90% positive I will…it all now depends if my applications are accepted by the University.

Alright. I don’t even have anything interesting to say now. I’ve been in Brisbane less than 24 hours and I just sat for one midterm. I’m tired. Also I’m feeling a bit weird-ed out about it because I thought the test was alright, but apparently everyone thought it was hard. So I suppose I’m either too stupid to find out it was hard or I studied enough to find out that it was actually ok.

I’m hungry. I’m out to hunt for food and replenish my 2 weeks empty pantry.

Change of look! I got bored with the same old banana so I thought a change should take place.

I’ve changed to this template because I’ve decided I want to go emo-goth for the time being, but I also don’t want to be so out of character thus the orange header you see.

So I’m like, a happy emo-goth. Or a hippie emo-goth. Whichever tickles your fancy.

I’ve also cleaned up my sidebar, and now you guys don’t have to suffer eyesores!

Now, to organize the files in my laptop…

So, Hero now wants 12 kids.

(Yes, we are already talking kids.)

Our first discussion about kids when we first got together, we joked about three kids.

Then somehow it escalated to five. Apparently during the period of two months after we hooked up with three pre-made babies (just add hot water!), I was pregnant again and spewed another two kids. We don’t know how that happened so let’s just all assumed I spewed twins. Oh, and maybe the pre-made three imaginary kids in the beginning of our relationship were triplets. And I gave birth to them fully grown. Like, 5 years old or something. (We like to speed up the growing process and want our kids to miss their babyhood).

Another few months down the road and the talk starts on “bringing all the 6 kids to camping.” This was around Christmas time. So, apparently I spew out ANOTHER kid and I don’t even know about it. Only the father and my other imaginary brood knew about it. Don’t my baby making womb deserves a memo or something?

This morning, on our customary Sunday morning chat whenever we’re apart, I, somehow, have spewed ANOTHER 6 KIDS, making our brood now totaling to 12 kids.

“Our daughters are not going to date until they’re 35!” Hero protested. “The guy need to get through our daughters’ 9 brothers first!”

Ok, ok, hang on there.

9 brothers? That’s an extra 3 from the original 6!

And “daughters”? Pardon me if I’m wrong, English being my second language and all, but I believe adding the letter “s” to a subject makes the subject plural, no?

Talk about ungracefully finding out you’re pregnant. Or in this case “were pregnant” since evidently all the kids are already out of my womb.

It turns out that within the space of a few hours, I got pregnant and spewed out an extra 6 kids.

“Spewed” is making extra appearances today. Forgive “spew”. He won’t hang around for a long time. He’s itching for a comeback.

So now I have three daughters and nine sons to my womb portfolio.

Making the number of females in the household totaling to four.

You know what that means?

Each of us females can take turn having PMS every week of the month. Making the guys’ life an eternal hell. And oh man, don’t we all, the female human species, looooooove making guy’s life hell at that time of the month?

Or, as they say, females who live together end up having their periods match. Meaning that once a month, four females in the household will equate to The Ultimate War of the Century. We make Osama bin Laden cower in his cave in fear.

Why do you think the man is hiding? To avoid the American wrath? HAH! Wrong! Do you know how many wives that guy have? And do you know how many of them are NOT in menopause stage? Do you know how many of them have issues and dramas every month? And whatever deity Osama worship help him when all his wives get into pre-menopausal stages.

We don’t care if we have 10 men in the house because by damn, those 10 men will cower and take cover when the 4 of us starts PMSing together! Not even North Korean nuclear weapons will be able to match our pre-menstrual wrath.

Moral of the story: polygamy means hell to pay.

Oh, and before you men wishes for a house full of daughters, reflect back to the last time your wife had PMS. Right? Magnify this by 10 times for each daughters when they hit puberty because teenage girls are even more dramatic and melancholic. Magnify by 100 for each daughter, plus wife, if all said daughters are still in the house by the time wife gets to pre-menopausal stage.

Also, be prepared to lose part, or all of your hair.

We women are not superb for nothing. We come with a high price, a price that you keep on paying for the rest of your lives because we are just that magnificent.

HAH.

To women reading this:

1. If you’re married–> did you took your husband’s name? Why or why not?
2. To those who are yet to be married–>will you? Why or why not?

I met up for tea with a friend who is getting married soon. She was having a dilemma. Whether or not to change her maiden name to her soon-to-be-husband surname and was asking for opinions.

I’m very, very wary of giving people advice on something that I do not really understand, something that I have not gone through, or that I will probably not go through. But the way she put her question to me was sneakily, “what about you? Say, just for example purpose, if Hero and you married, would you take his name?”

I have never thought about this issue. I never thought about getting married to anyone, much less about changing my name when the concept is foreign to me.

You see, in my country, unless you’re Chinese or Serani (Eurasian of Portuguese descent), your last name is not a surname, but your father’s name. So for example, if your name was John Smith Abraham, that means you are John Smith, the son of Abraham. If John had a kid named Matthew, with the middle name of Lee, his full name will be Matthew Lee John.

Get it?

Therefore, if a woman changes her name after marriage to her husband’s name, it means that she is taking her father-in-law’s name. That would make her the father-in-law’s daughter and she would be married to her own brother!

So I told her, hypothetically if I were to marry Hero, yes, I would take his name BUT retain my name. I can get away with this because I only have one name. No middle names. So if I decide to keep my name and add Hero’s, it won’t seem strange because now it would appear like I have three names in my name, making it as normal as anyone’s else.

She wasn’t satisfied with this answer. She pressed me to answer it in a more sentimental way. Geez, how much more sentimental can I be? She asked me, what would be my motivation to add Hero’s name to my name?

I sarcastically told her, “to shut you up and get on with my tea” and she threatened to withhold my order of 3 slices of Hazelnut Chocolate Cake. She had the power because she was paying. And 3 slices means $15. I caved in and my soul was bought with 15 bucks and 3 slices of chocolate cake.

I am not ashamed. Also to other people out there who considers bribing me, I can also be bought with an endless supplies of salmon sushi.

Ok, on to my reason.

I don’t have an emotional attachment with my name. With our naming system, it means that father’s name only survive one generation after him. It is not carried to another generation. There is less sentimental value with Malaysian names.

I’m keeping it because that’s the name I have on every certificates and awards I get. That’s the name on my license and my passport. That is the name that will appear on my Bachelor’s Degree and on my Masters. That’s the name on all my official correspondences, on my bank accounts and on my investments. Changing them all is just too much.

Would I add a husband’s name? It depends on who that person is. If it’s Hero, yes, I definitely will. Because I honour him greatly, and as a show of honour to his wonderful family who have made me feel extremely welcomed. On Christmas night, Hero’s elder brother officially welcomed me to the family. I have no qualms about being part of the family. Hero’s cousin’s wife and I get on like house on fire, and she has the family name. It just seems way cooler for us all to have the same name. It signifies that you come from the same insane clan. Imagine terrorizing the whole town and be known as the “D—- family”. I guess it would also sounds cooler on family greeting cards, knowing that I am not the weird one out because I have a different name.

“What name would the kids have?” she asked. Without hesitation, I said Hero’s name.

You could argue that I could always hyphenate the kids name to take on both Hero’s and I name. Again, if my kids get both names and have it hyphenated, it would mean that they are my father’s kids. So now my kids has turned into my siblings. Sounds a bit gross, no? And if both Hero and I change name to hyphenated names, like the trend is now, that would make Hero my brother. Not something I’m open to.

Lastly, I pointed out to her that I hate the way people ALWAYS mispronounced my surname, be they Malaysians or Westerners. Everytime I have to spell my surname and everytime I have to correct people’s pronunciation. I sighed heavily everytime my name is mentioned on PA system, everytime my name is mentioned on stage and just about anytime my name is announced.

Only Filipinos get my name right, because essentially it is a Filipino name, despite the fact that I am not Filipino. And because the name sounds very Filipino, I’m always mistaken as one. Not that I mind, but now I have to explain again that I don’t understand nor speak Tagalog and that I am Malaysian. And then comes the question on how Malaysian will get that name, and how my race ends up in Malaysia.

It all gets very tiring. I don’t like to have to explain myself my whole life. And that is what I have been doing.

What say you?