Thank you for being that kind of girl ...

Brandon Boyd is definitely one of those few singers who sounds really, really, really good live.

Delish.

Voice soft like summer rain ...

There are various interpretation of this song apart from the eponymous original by the incomparable Dolly Parton. However, I love this version by Mindy Smith best; the pure, clean notes of her voice underscoring her desperation and pleading. Wonderfully emotive.



The theme of the song is something that I have never experienced first-hand. I cannot imagine loving someone who loves another in such a way; to humble one-self to ask for clemency from the third party.

I suppose this is the kind of love that drove a person to self-destruction because of its loss. I do like the idea of such an all encompassing love and passion, but the reality of it? Not so much.

Just like how I love my fictional men to be emotionally damaged, but if I met these guys in real life, I'll be running in the other direction so fast, you'd hear the Beep! Beep! of the Road Runner.

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*

This is not an advertisement

For those who's forever complaining about how difficult it is to get stuff done with Government departments in Malaysia, there is a solution.

Go to myeg.com.my.

It's a portal that helps you with stuff from renewing your driving licence, checking for traffic violations to getting a new MyCard.

*lovingly caress my new driving licence that is good for another 5 years*

Oh, if you're interested, I applied for a new one just yesterday afternoon and today they've couriered it over. Really fast, hassle free.

Go on. Check it out.

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*