Simple Little Fibs

I’ve been coping for the past few days, trying to write out this one distressing event in my life, in a rational manner.

But emotions got the better of me, you see.

We had neighbours who for the most part, owned something of a cat farm; in the backyard would be their 10 or so cats, who would laze around and give passerbys a look of sheer snobbery and haughtiness, never mind that they slept on the floor or ate from plastic bowls.

Eventually, the neighbours had to move because of some work-related issue that demanded the man of the house to relocate to another place. Now, of course, these neighbours were especially fond of their cats, but they were also reasonable people. And being the reasonable people they were, they knew they couldn’t take ALL their cats to their new home.

So they gave the cats to the people who would take care of them, usually friends or fellow cat lovers as well.

We got one of their cats (or rather, he got us), a svelte little guy called Coco. He was your average cat, he liked lazing in the sun and rolling about on the floor, he liked lapping up fresh milk and sleep on the many comfy chairs littered about the house, he also liked climbing the stairs for the sheer pleasure of doing it.

Over the time he was with us, he grew… wide? Let’s just say the life of luxury had caught up to him, to the point he had something of a Mafia boss ala The Godfather; big belly, bigger influence. I say this, because he had a way of forming allies with other cats, strays or other house cats, and would bring them here. Usually they leave after a day or two, going back to their lives of trash bins or fluffy pillows.

But one day, he brought a black cat that vaguely resembled a rat and bat mix, who walked like a lizard and hardly like the sleek, graceful movements of a cat. He had the mentality of a dog and always, always, always got himself dirty, no matter what you did. He was then bestowed as Poe.

Together, these two guys would go off taking a stroll around the neighbourhood, forming a hilarious bond; Coco was this big cat, who was refined, elegant, always kept himself clean and was certainly very picky about his food. Poe was this dark, skinny, clumsy animal who didn’t care if you served him old chicken or pizza, he would gratefully take what was given (and being so, he’s a young little thing who was born an alley cat, scraps of food came in only so much).

Coco was never known to be hostile, or dangerous either. When he would see strangers he would run away, knowing they’re not friends. He would more likely run away then stay and fight or hurt anyone.

I would think that, humanity could only be so cruel; we lie, we cheat, we kill, we hurt, in times of desperation, layers of our sanity are slowly peeled away. But in the quiet estates in and around KL, where everyone can lead comfortable lives, this sort of cruelty constantly shocks me.

So one day Coco went out for a walk as usual, but this time, we found him, hiding away in the plant beds of our garden, looking beaten up as any beaten up cat would. This couldn’t be an accident, I thought, though I would’ve liked to believe otherwise.

As any sane owner would do, we rushed him as quickly as possible to the nearest vet. When we did reach there, we were told that he had serious fractures on his ribs, but the vets were professional enough to say that they will keep him under observation, give him painkillers and find out what the problem was exactly.

I couldn’t sleep that night, to be honest. I hate to use the word ‘psychic’ and not mean a videogame/movie or a joke; but there have been moments where I have… predicted things. Or it could be I have an ironic sense of timing, but same difference, right? But as I was saying, I had thoughts, not very reassuring ones. My head kept telling me that Coco wasn’t going to make it, that he was gone for good. He probably had a punctured lung and that I had to move on NOW.

I woke up, my mom told us that Coco didn’t make it. I couldn’t have felt more angry, more sad or more disappointed.

Not so much of the vet, but humanity or whoever the sad lout was who had the BALLS to do such a despicable act towards a harmless animal. It was just so unfair, that he was a sweet, loving cat, who did NOTHING to anyone, he didn’t hurt anyone or ruin their gardens when his male instincts would kick in.

But he’s gone now, and I can’t do a thing about it. I can’t even be certain who specifically did this or who was responsible, but whoever did do it, is going to get quite the payback from the hands of fate.

I feel so sorry for Poe, because he finally found himself a nice home, a nice cat who doesn’t attack him on sight, but defends him, a friend, and now he’s gone. I don’t know if he knows, but every time Poe walks out trying to look for his big friend, it breaks my heart just that little bit more.

It’s not easy to accept this, pets that I’ve had passed on the natural way; old age or sickness. It’s easier to accept because it’s an inevitable part of life. But when you’re beaten to death and you go through pain like Coco, you just feel so angry.

… I won’t move :’D Because honestly? Nazas or whatever it is they’re called (the family has dubbed Perodua cars as ‘tin bits on wheels… powered by AA batteries a year too old’) make perfectly tacky hood ornaments for BMWs.

Alright, so today was the obligatory run for milk, butter, etc. Regular ol’ groceries. ‘Course, here in MaLAZYa, we put just enough space for the supermart, and leave about a 10 feet of space in the front for what little parking can be made. Not only that, vendors who open their circus tents selling crafts and the like are placed in the middle of said tiny space. So this makes it into a very aggressive version of finder’s keepers.

Right, so dropping my dad off to pick up a few things, I decide that instead of idling in the middle of the road (I’m considerate, mind you), I should go around the lot, and if I happen upon a space, I’ll park there.

Okay, off I go, and I see some Malay lady with her glittery head scarf, cheap RM19 heels and cakey make up pulls in front of me, whatever, maybe she’s finding space to park too– WHOA!! SHE BREAKS WHAT THE-?! She jams on her breaks, yeah? And suddenly, her reverse lights are on.

WHAT?

Apparently, a guy was pulling out two spaces behind us and she intends to park there, of all places. Of course, doing that requires her to back up her tacky car quite a bit. Now, see, that would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do granted that: a) there wasn’t anyone behind you and b) where there aren’t a lot of people around and that you’re absolutely sure that you’ve got the road to yourself.

That wasn’t the case as not only was I behind her, but 20 other people as well. She backs up, hoping that I’ll do the same. But I’ve got a little more brains than that and I intend to use every and all gray matter the Lord has graciously given me a little bit more of, and I sound my horn at her, because one, she was trying to turn her car around in the smallest place she got (and blocking like only the whole of the road, no problem, right?) and she won’t make it and two, the guy who was pulling out whose space she wants can’t get out, because she’s blocked the traffic up till the entrance (like I said, small parking space), so there was NO POINT in her trying to nab that space anyway, there’ll be more if she just makes a few rounds).

Seeing that I won’t budge and that all I’m doing is making noise and throwing my hands in confusion, get this– she gets OUT of her car, puts her hands on her hips, pouts her fat lips in hopes of looking intimidating (like a fish with legs) and POINTS ANGRILY at me, to back up.

I laugh, sound my horn, because she’s obviously forgotten to take her meds this morning.

She points more, or more like stabbing angrily at the air behind me thinking that she’ll scare me or something, until some Chinese man tells her to seat herself back into the car and move ON. Because now she’s holding back 30 cars 8D

Reminding her of her manners, as she pulls over to the other side, I pass by her and sound my horn at her again (and so do the other 30 cars), of course, instead of looking back with surpressed anger and a hurt ego, she was screaming at me (or violently moving her mouth and making noise) as I passed, throwing rather entertaining finger signs at me.

So now, eventually she DOES find a space (this is funny, because she decides to block the whole road for one space and ends up getting another one because she moved. WOW!) and I keep doing my rounds. When she saw me again, she gave me that angry, fish on legs stance thinking that I must’ve done something bad and that I should respect my freakin’ elders who obviously got a shot of super ego because she spent her life’s worth on a tin bit with wheels. Whoop-de-freakin’-doo.

I smile, pick up my dad, move on with my life, and share to you, the world the other side of the Malaysian driver.

I don’t care if you drive a Naza, a Kancil, a Kenari, a Tikus or a Kucing, don’t think that just because you spent money on it, doesn’t mean you own the road and that you can make up your own rules. It not only makes you look stupid (as clever people like to blog about these things), it also makes everything so much more inconvenient.

People should eat humble pie more often :c

With every member of the human race obtaining mobile phones day by day, how we’re slowly growing dependent on these handy little devices, I’m sure at one point in our life using said devices, we would encounter a few wrong number calls.

Of course, with each case, when you tell the person on the other end of the line that they got the wrong number, they offer a quick apology and have figured out that they’ve pushed a wrong digit or two.

Not tonight.

So I gave my sister my old Motorola phone which is really a few years old and has extremely basic functions (call, message, games. No colour, no mp3 playing jazz, just good old mobile PHONE technology). After getting herself a number and a charm attached, she hasn’t leaked the number out to her good friends just yet. So we were a little surprised when she got a call tonight (and really, it’s a brand new number, it wasn’t a second hand one or what have you). We figured it would be a wrong number deal, so she just ignored the call.

20 ignored calls later and this mysterious (but utterly confused) stranger persisted. She got fed up and handed me the phone, not sure how to go about telling this person to please, use a bit of common sense and stop calling.

I took over and found that it was an Indian lady probably addressing someone of her own race as I do not speak a lick of Indian. I told her she reached the wrong number and put the phone down.

Problem solved? I wished.

She called again, this time I told her that she had the wrong number more sternly this time, hoping that she would get the idea that calling the same number multiple times isn’t going to please many people.

She persisted again and again and again, to the point where she skipped the formalities and asked to it was. “Who are YOU?!” I asked in frustration and put the phone down. Last time she called was because I greeted and asked her who it was calling in Japanese.

If it takes a foreign language to tell people to knock it off with the calling, and that no matter how many times to call the number isn’t going to change, I’m worrying for humanity.

The first sign of the apocalypse is when we finally get someone on the Steamyx lines who KNOWS what they’re doing. Granted, this discovery of untapped logic could only be obtained through frustrated snarls and pressured politeness. Now, if only they could actually hire people who know what they’re talking about and what the job requires, you can imagine how much a better service would be. Think about it Streamyx; the better your customer services are, the better the people you hire and the promised 1megs would make you a whole lot of money, since many more people would come in throngs to use your services :’D

Also, much to my amusement, after posting up my previous blog entry, I’ve noticed they’ve also stopped using they’re stupid advertisements when being put on hold.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll eat my lasagna and look out for the other signs, that way I’m better prepared :’D

“Hi, I’d like to <insert inquiry of choice here>.”

“Oh most certainly ma’am/sir/animal, may I have your Streamyx username?”

“Of course! It’s E.A.N”

“Is that E for England, A for Atlanta and N for Nigeria?”

“… *slams phone down in pure frustration*”

It’s a known fact, Streamyx is a rather painful service to deal with. And I’m sure most Malaysians know this. For those not in the know, Streamyx is a broadband service (at least that’s what they advertise, I’d like to think they’re a service for reverse psychological treatment of anger management), and to be honest, they do provide sub-par service with a pretty… affordable price tagged on. However, yes, there is a however, what they provide in connections fails traumatically with their customer service. You see, though they give pretty decent connection, customer service is something they need to fix. Or transplant.

Alright, so we decided that a new connection to a different phone line would make life easier on our part (and arguably, Streamyx as we’ll be paying for it along with our other connection). So we sign up and dance their little dance and eventually we’re presented with a new modem and instructions to set it up accordingly.

Happily we did as we were told, only to discover that it simply wouldn’t connect. Checks have been made and it has been verified that the phone lines are perfectly fine and the computer is working smoothly. Seems to be the problem lies in the D-Slam, where our connection hasn’t been established.

Numerous (read: hundreds of) times we’ve called Streamyx’s call center. All numerous (read: hundreds of) times have been unpleasant experiences respectively.

I don’t understand why Malaysians have this… NEED to associate letters with a specific location in the world. WHY must ‘L’ stand for or associate with London? Why must ‘A’ stand for America? WHY? Why can’t ‘L’ just be ‘L’? WHY IS THERE THIS NEED TO COMPLICATE THINGS?!

Of course, once you’re over that hurdle (and if you’ve gotten past that stage, congratulations, you won the internet) you’re then transferred to someone who is promised to know a thing or two about the problems you’re facing. Dare I say you might actually get some help out of this dapper, bright young fellow who could help you.

Of course, trying to locate said dapper, bright young fellow takes the person on the other end of the line forever and a half, thus you are put on hold. And you know what’s worse than annoying hold music? Advertisements.

You read correctly. Instead of cheesy pitchy jazz numbers of some sort, Streamyx chooses to put advertisements starring a breathless young girly girl and her manly man man friend. They’re both going on and on and on and on and on and on and on about how GOOD and GREAT Streamyx’s services are. Most of the time, customers DO get fed up with listening to this pointless nattering, thus they slam the phone down and hopefully move on with their lives and trying to solve the problem themselves.

For those who are more patient, you may get transfered to a supervisor. Of course, any and all problems are solved by paying a fee and having a serviceman come over and seeing what the problem is. For my case it was the connectivity problem and that the switches needed to be switched on the D-Slam.

BUT OF COURSE! With Streamyx, you only get your problem solved by having serviceman of unknown origin taking a gander at your computer. If it doesn’t blow up, it’s fine.

Not only that, we’ve paid quite a bit of money to these people and our problems are usually met with either an incompetent response, a REDUNDANT response… or no response at all, which makes life rather difficult, more so that we even offer possible solutions to these people.

Then again, their customer service numbers don’t lead to people working with the company, just a random call center with a list of problems and solutions, much like the back of a manual of any kind and its troubleshooting guide.

The highlight of this particular phone call today was when, in frustration my dad started hitting his forehead with the phone. The dapper, not so bright young fellow on the other end said, “Sir, there’s a problem with your phone line, strange noises are coming from them!”

Haha, way to go Streamyx. Alienating your customers and giving us a number with people who don’t know what they’re talking about. Seriously, you guys deserve an award.

Now, now, don’t call me a hypocrite. I did mention earlier on that I’ve had nothing but troubles with the customer service people. The connection service is decent enough for me to sit quietly and enjoy what I’ve been given

Love,
Amanda

There are a lot of people who frequent and are members of these notorious social networking sites; Friendster, MySpace, meebo, Habbo and the biggest one today, Facebook. And I’m pretty sure most everyone knows the dreaded little thing called ‘friend requests’.

I’ve always wondered why complete strangers or a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend would request to be listed in your friends list? (that was, by the way, a redundant sentence)

Has anyone ever wondered this? I guess I’m the sort of person who would only accept these requests if I’ve known them a great deal and know we have common interests. On more occasions than I’d care to mention, I’ve received these requests from the most random set of people. I don’t know what goes through their minds when they click on my username and ask if we could be friends, despite not knowing each other. Don’t pull that “Oh, they must think you’re pretty” line on me, because I honestly don’t believe you ;D

Or maybe I’m just not game enough or really don’t care that I don’t have 500 friends listed :’D

I’m starting up a line of pin-up like pictures to be sold via DeviantArt’s print service :3

I’m putting myself on the line here, as Malaysians get their feathered a bit ruffled when we notorious bloggers write about current happenings in the country (even if some of them are a little bit unintelligent). But trust that this post has nothing to do with politics 8D!

It’s about the roadblock that caused MAJOR (to put it lightly) traffic congestions to and from KL. To those unfamiliar, apparently there was a rally to be staged at a certain location (which is honestly 10 miles away from KL). Fearing the worst, police and other responsible authorities had to close down major roads leading to this location. Now, really, I guess I understand that they’re concerned for the good working people and that they don’t want innocents getting hurt should this rally turn out violent.

Traffic jams were held up every which way, I think some couldn’t get get past toll plazas since the jam extended through there. I mean wow. Anyway, the people groused about this, since it really was the one time thing.

However, what really got everyone up and arms about it was that the rally was a no show 8D

Yes, you’ve read right, no show at the rally. My dad summed it up rather nicely; since the jams were so bad, the people involved in the rally in the first place couldn’t make it or didn’t want to bear going through the jams 8D;;

I guess I find this amusing since I wasn’t caught in the jam per se, but really, it got a chuckle out of me. All these preventive measures and how it just got everybody’s day moving at the speed of molasses going uphill in January (with crutches). And the whole thing that started said preventive measures didn’t happen ANYWAY because there was no way to get to the place. Well… I guess it prevented it from happening? Ah, I don’t know.

Poupeegirl’s taking on a summer/beachy theme, so I thought I’d jump in ?

And when I mean shopped out, I don’t mean I’ve been Photoshopped out of a picture by some vengeful girlfriend :’D

Saying that I hardly go shopping and return empty handed is something of a dirty lie. Today, my spoils include some pens I’ve been looking for, a simple chain (which I plan on putting a pendant on it and presenting it to a good friend of mine :3) and a pair of surprisingly comfortable heels! And in my size!

Now, for those not in the know, I haven’t been blessed with dainty feet (it comes with the package of being a tall lanky person), so needless to say, finding shoes my size, especially girlish heels, have been something akin to finding the Holy Grail.

All the same though, I found two pairs from the same place, Vincci. Malaysians should know this brand, I really do like how they last and the selections they have!

I have to apologize for the dark pictures, though the point is that you can see just how fabulous they are. I’ve never liked most peep-toe shoes out there, but I just fell in love with this pair regardless!

And I mentioned about another pair I got from the outlet, so here it is, my fabled white pumps:

I’ve worn them a few times now, their first runs was from a photoshoot with a friend XD

I just realized how ehh… impaired, I am before my morning coffee. I’m sure everyone who has had the taste of the aromatic drink would know how disoriented you feel before that fresh cuppa.

I woke up today, thinking it was Thursday, and despite flipping through the newspaper a few times, it dawned upon me, a few hours after noon time, that it was in fact, Friday. If Atomic Clock Sync was available for human brains, I’d gladly have some of that.

Then again, I suppose when you’ve got a month or so free from university work, you let yourself go (and eventually you let go of the rest of the world, apparently). And it has just dawned upon that in a little over two weeks, I’ll be back to the institution XD;

Time flies by when you’re having fun? Or when you’re having too little, the mechanics work the same way.

I’m currently very thrilled that I’m getting a few commissions (and with very eager takers), I’ll probably get something nice from shanalogic.com or cute-plush.com, I’ve been meaning to get their rings and necklaces!

I watched The Outsiders last night, a faithful adaptation of the book, with a cameo of the author herself. Even if they leave a few scenes/dialogues out, I’m pretty impressed by it. I know that Dallas Winston wasn’t supposed to be the handsome one of the group (that would go to one of the Curtis brothers, Sodapop), but I’d be damned if I ever saw another guy just as good looking as Matt Dillon in his role here ;D

You know how it goes “Quality is our Recipie”, then you grab that hot steaming bun and you bite into that rich flavour of beef, cheese and various toppings. Mmm, sip your coke and dip your fries into the sauce of your choice while you mingle with your friends or family (or your thoughts/imaginary friends if you’re that way inclined).

You dig into the bag, passing around the burgers and baked potatoes, hoping that everyone gets a bite of Wendy’s most excellent servings. BUT UH-OH JOE! Seems that you’re one burger short. And as a matter of fact and few drinks short and a bag full of varied sauces.

Wendy’s opened in KL not too long ago, in the hot spot of Sunway Pyramid. I have to admit, aside from the really awesome selection of clothes and whatnots there, I also frequented the most excellent donut shop of J.Co’s (for all those who still hold onto Dunkin’ Donuts, J.Co’s beats DD by far, these guys make the best!).

As such, whenever we swing by that part of town, we make it a point to stop by and pick up J/Co’s, and since now that Wendy’s has opened, we invest a little more time and money for a take away meal there.

Now, I don’t know about you, your friends or how it’s like in other branches in other parts of the world, but I’ll have you know this, while I’m absolutely enthralled by their delicious burgers and friendly staff, whenever a take-away order has been made, there’s usually a shortchange; usually a missing order, and by the time I realize, it’s far too late to turn back.

I suppose you could say I should make a habit to check my purchases before I leave, but I figure after yelling out your order to the smiling Malay girl with her pink!pink lipstick and glittery eye make up, you would think that an order of “1 quarter-pounder, 1 fish fillet and two medium cokes” would be easy to remember.

So yeah, today was just another regular run, you see, as I fought with the unusually busy lines at Wendy’s I blare my order out to the girl who shortchanged me of two burgers out of the intended five. “3 half-pounders, 1 quart-pounder, a fish fillet and 5 cokes” isn’t that hard a order, especially since I graciously pointed at the printed menu she kept pushing at me.

Most amusing of all was she insisted I buy the set meal and confused my order of “Coca Cola” to “Sprite”. Hmm. Even more amusing still, she packed enough packaged ketchups and chili-sauce packs for five, maybe six, burgers.

After discussing it with the family, I’ve been told that I should write my orders on a piece of paper, that way, for sure, they can’t possibly mix up my order or mistake the numbers for something else.

The things I do for food.