Till death do us part

Guys, if you want to keep your marriage, this is the tip ...

Help out with the house work.

This is the findings by Dr Wendy Sigle-Rushton of the London School of Economics. Yes, it was published in a reputable peer reviewed, ISI-indexed journal . You can believe it. It was the outcome of a scientific research. And yes, she works for the leading social science institution in the world.

*rolls eyes*

I mean, c'mon. Common sense, what? You have a household with both partners chipping into the kitty. Your woman also goes to work (just like you!), gets shit shovelled on her by her boss and colleagues (just like you!), gets stuck in commute/traffic (just like you!), is tired and stressed (just like you!), and gets paid less than her male peers (fuckin' unlike you!!!).

She goes home to the breakfast dishes still piled in the sink, the rugrat(s) squalling for her attention and you demanding dinner. So she rolls up her sleeves, starts on dinner and while it's bubbling on the stove, she washes the dishes. What do you do? Sit in front of the tv, beverage in hand ranting about how your favourite team was being ripped off by an unfair referee.

After dinner, you may desultorily play with said rugrat(s) while she cleans up the kitchen, do the laundry (not just dumping the wash in the machine, mind you; this includes folding the clean laundry, putting them away, ironing whatever for tomorrow), makes a grocery list (she just discovered that you put the empty milk/juice carton back in the fridge instead of tossing it into the recycleables bin), check the homework of older rugrats, tidies their toys away etc etc etc.

Once your rough-housing made said rugrat cry, you return him/her to your woman to calm him/her down while you go off for your shower, proud that you've been a fantastic daddy and spent quality time with your progeny. After that was the sacred hour with the boob tube, then you lock down the house in preparation of going to bed. Mean time, your woman has her own shower (after tucking in the kids, making sure their bags are all ready for school the next day, read the same Dr Seuss book for the gazillionth time for bedtime story without puking) and slides under the covers for a comfy 30 minute with the book she bought two months ago but hasn't had the time to finish.

When you come to bed, she'd already nodded off, but you were feeling frisky and wanted a little lovin'.

And then you wonder why she gets this way.


Tsk tsk.

Seriously guys. She's not asking for much. Put up the toilet seat. Toss your dirty clothes in the hamper. Stack stuff in the dishwasher. Mow the lawn. Do the grocery shopping. And if she gives you hell for not doing it the "right" way, it's because she's been doing it for a long time and knows how to do it well and efficiently. Be a little patient.

Besides, if she's not worn from doing too much, she's more welcoming to your amorous advances.

*grin*

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In celebration of violence

Violence is bad. But it can also make for great fun.

Nothing a little C4 couldn't cure.

New meaning to killing me softly.

He learnt this from Emily Post.

A kick in the nuts is always funny. Just ask anyone who
enjoy the Three Stooges.

Auditory input is important *nods*

This is why animes are so much fun.

Cuteness kills. Literally.

Provoke a hormonal woman at your own peril.

In preparation for the weekend

My niece's dream ride.

Gender equality for the millennium.

Geek humour.

And just about as industrious.

Preparing for the zombiecalypse ... you are doing it right.

It's a quarter after one ...

It has been ages since I fell in love with a song at the first listen. But the sheer emotional poetry of this song?

I am gone.

Enjoy Lady Antebellum's Need You Now.

More than plugging the leaks

Platelets.

No, they are not small dishes for food. Dengue patients often proclaim proudly how low their platelet count was and still they didn't die.

"Mine was only 9*, you know? I'm lucky to be alive!"

So what do platelets do?

They are tiny cell fragments that circulate in your blood and stop you from bleeding to death.

Don't look so tiny now, eh?

And apparently, they do more than that.

This is the reason why people should stop believing that just because something is a scientific fact, it is immutable. Science evolves, people. As we develop more new toys to look at tinier things, calculate bigger numbers, the more we learn how little we know.

* 9 X 10⁹
The normal range for platelets is 150-400 x 10⁹ per litre. (Wikipedia)

We are all the heroes of our own story

Sometimes, we don't realise that we are no longer teenagers and the world doesn't revolve around us. It never had. Which is why, I love stories like this.

Keep your feet grounded, sugar. Most of the time the shit that happens to you is not personal.

Peace.

Too much television will do this to you

"Did you study overseas? Your English is very good."

I get this a lot from people who met me for the first time. No, I'd gently correct them, I am a local product. No, I have never lived overseas in English-speaking countries. Short tour visits do not count, dammit.

Today, an American commented that I sounded, well, like an American.

This is particularly hilarious considering how I could barely read, much less speak English till I was 11. It helped to have a sadistic sister who took away all of my Malay storybooks one school holiday and made me read Nancy Drew in English. When she got tired of telling what the words mean (which was every five words and everything more than 4 alphabets), she tossed a dictionary in the general direction of my head and went into hiding.

My sister is this cute.

There were no shortcuts, no amazing linguistic talent, unlike said sadistic sister who learned English by watching Sesame Street. I would watch the same thing she did and anything that didn't have subtitles (e.g. Fawlty Towers) was of no interest to me. But force me to read she did and lo, and behold! After three books, I could hobble along well enough sans dictionary. I proceeded to devour every Carolyn Keen, Trixie Belden and Enid Blyton books in my school library, disdaining the translated version.

You may think; why would I slog through the Nancy Drew when I could just give it up? It was so hard (though nowhere near the pain of passing a gallstone). Truth is, I could give up reading the way a smoker/alcoholic/drug addict would foreswear their poison of choice. It is a compulsion, an addiction that has gotten me into trouble numerous times, but still, stop I cannot.

How badly am I hooked? The next time you're stuck in traffic in Klang Valley, if you see a demented woman in the next car who is angling her book to get maximum light for reading? That is probably me.

You might wish you have one of this during said possible encounter. *snerk*

But I digress.

Sounding American? That is a first for me. A close pal, whose first encounter with me was watching me give my honours thesis presentation, once said that her first impression of me was that I was a Singaporean; she wondered what was this Singaporean girl doing studying in Malaysia. Another schoolmate actually inquired if I was from Thailand; she said that I did not sound like a Malaysian when I speak Malay.

I will, reluctantly, acknowledge that I do have an accent; and it varies depending on how nervous I am. I could sound like I went to public school in England or like a German newscaster (beautifully accentless). What not many people know, is that the more nervous I am, the more foreign I sound. So yeah, that pseudo-Oxford whatsit? Usually comes out during interviews. :p


Really, if you have a small talent at mimicry, imitating people on tv shows aren't that hard. Especially when you know how the words are spelt.

*grin*

Battle of the Bulge

I don't think I have ever met anyone, male or female, who is happy about their weight, regardless of their appearance. But for those who wants to lose weight and is a believer of better living through chemistry (i.e. drugs is the only way to go!), you gotta face up that the meds are just not gonna cut it.

Report of the the latest three weight loss drugs to hit the market seems to be on the ho hum side, irrespective of the so-called obesity epidemic. One drug makes you goofy and forgetful, while the other gives you a bad taste in the mouth. Literally.

Like as not, there are no shortcuts to weight loss.

Bummer.

X & Y, sitting on a tree ... K-I-S-S-I-N-G ...

I remember once asking a friend on the eve of her wedding, "How did you know that this is the guy for you, for ever and always?"

Her tranquil answer was, "You gotta have faith when it all feels right."

I marvel at her faith and courage to take such a risk. Marriage is a long-term contract; in Islam, the solemnisation affair 'aqd literally means that, a contract. How do you make sure that the person you chose to wake up next to for the rest of your life is the right person?

Is there a happily ever after promised after the ring is on the finger? No. There is no guarantee that you will be happy with that person for the rest of your life, but there is a promise to try and make things work with that person. Surely the fact that you said yes, that person is important to you; important enough that you are willing to take the risk of it all blowing up in your face.

In this disposable world, many seem to think that if a spouse didn't work out, you can always throw that person away and get another model. Just look in the gossip rags; the blushing bride of the magnificent wedding a few weeks/months/years ago is now the virago ex-wife demanding her rights (and share) in the court. The groom who once professed undying love and devotion is now coldly enumerating her faults and failings as a wife and/or mother.

Why does this happen? Do people change that much once they said "I do"? Could it be that people have unrealistic expectations of their partner even before they committed to matrimony? Could it be because during courtship showing one's true colour is considered de trop and you only found out that your beloved refuse to shower on weekends or cook the dishes your mommy used to make when it's too late?

Being realistic about the candidates for one's hand is a must. We all have dreams of our ideal partners, but what are the likelihood of meeting the perfect someone who reads Sartre, enjoy long walks on the beach and can make a mean espresso? Lori Gottlieb pointed out that if he/she has annoying habits at the cinema or is hopeless at choosing the wine, said person should still be a viable contender.

Should we settle? Or is that settling?

I had thought that the culture of having your spouse chosen for you by your family member takes a lot of stress out of the whole selection process. Not so according to my friends whose families still use traditional matchmakers. There are all the angst of viewing the possible groom/bride and finding that person is still not right/not fair enough/not funny enough and just simply ... not enough.

Huh.

I wonder if I would have the courage of Siti Khadijah and ask a man to marry me.

*grin*