These Are A Few Of My Favourite Things

Since I'm on a list roll, here are a few of my favourite observations from the past week:

1. You can be famous if you quit smoking
Today, 15 civil servants got their two minutes of fame when a paper ran a story about them quitting smoking. I kid you not.

Who needs Malaysian Idol when you have good old cigarettes.

Better still, instead of a platinum recording contract, quitting smoking will probably earn you a Datukship. And we all know how much more financially rewarding the latter can be.

2. There's a definite upside to not being 18 and below any more
You will never have to face the spectre of National Service. You will never have to live in fear of the possibility that you may be imposed with a curfew of 11 pm BY THE GOVERNMENT, and not your parents. (And I used to think my father was strict!)

You will also never run the risk of being stopped by the police en route to the sundry shop to buy your Dad the paper while still in your school uniform. Imagine asking the public to phone in truants to the police! Heck they can't even respond to a REAL emergency.

3. We are being subliminally moulded into a nation of cover versions
I walked into my neighbourhood MPH two nights ago and discovered to my horror that ALL the books were wrapped in plastic.

Now, I know you vendors don't like dog-eared copies of magazines. But books???? How are you supposed to figure out if you want to buy a book when you can't even read the first few lines?

And we wonder about the proliferation of slimming centers around KL. If MPH's recent attempt a literary preservation is anything to come by, we certainly are expected to judge a book by its cover these days.

4. There is a hefty price to pay for skinniness
Have you checked out how much getting skinny costs these days? I am told some women pay in the tens of thousands to lose weight!

Question: who needs slimming creams when you're starving anyway?

5. Weddings should be listed as an economic index
Since being beseiged by my stressed out sister's accounts of her wedding preparations, AND that of a colleague's, I have come to the conclusion that weddings are big business.

They're recession proof:
- Melayus still gotta shag legally in order to escape the risk of getting hauled up to Syariah Court
- Chinese families still view the ang pow collection at weddings as a form of windfall, besides the 4-D
- Indian families still need an excuse to haul out all of wifey's jewellry from the safety deposit box

They NEVER decrease in size, even in the worse of times.

They are one of the reasons we probably have a decent national savings rate per capita.

They provide gainful employment opportunities for all walks of life - from grandma who looks after the ang pow, to the two-year old ring bearers.

The day weddings show a drop in terms of potential revenue generation and job creation, we should probably switch our currency to the Indonesian rupiah.

6. A lot of people don't have 9 to 5 jobs
Which leads me to wonder what the heck I'm doing wrong.

Every time I go to KLCC, at any hour of the working day, the restaurants are packed. How all these people manage to swing business meetings with their best buddies 70 floors below their bosses' noses is beyond me.

7. The KL Monorail is the best thing since Brahim's pre-packed rendang and serunding
Who likes toiling over a hot stove, stirring a big vat of meat for hours, just to end up with half a kati of serunding? Likewise, no one likes traffic jams.

Today, I smiled all the way to town with my aerial view of the morning rush hour from the comfort of my monorail window.

And because 7 is a lucky number for some, I shall stop there.

It's been a long, rain-filled day. I am sleepy and my other half is still not home. My laptop's graphics card sucks, so I can't play all those awesome adventure games I just bought.

I need a Friday now.

Perempuan Melayu Terbilang (Notable Malay Women)

In the name of gender equality, here's a shot at my own kind - the Melayu woman. For no reason other than to balance things out. Fair's fair, I always say.

The JuJu
You know the kind. Sweet, seemingly demure, skinny, and vacuous with a high pitched giggle. Not very smart, or so you will be led to believe. Every other invitation is greeted with an "eh,, tak nak laaa..." or "ieeeeeeee!!!! you ni teruk la!...." And every other sentence begins with, "eh, you nak tau...."

Needless to say, giggling is her favourite form of punctuation. Oh, and she will take a cab. Even if it's to go down the street.

Oh dear. This one sounds like Siti. That must explain why she's every Mat Rempik's dream girl.

The JiJi
The JuJu's often slightly overweight best friend. Just as trendy, maybe a little smarter and wittier, but undoubtedly heavier on the kilos. She's the personality side of the dynamic duo. Never gets the boys, but manages to keep them awake through countless giggle sessions at the mamak.

She's the one the boys call when they want to figure out how to get JuJu all interested.

Also the one most likely to succeed in life out of sheer talent or hard work, as opposed to marriage.

The Tyra/Myra/Syra
Always has a seemingly Caucasian name. Schooled in London and the best shopping. But not much else. Has a degree, but is best equipped for seeking High Earning Potential marriageable males. Or better still, Sons of Rich Men. A veritable authority on the kiss-kiss etiquette adopted by the theatre bunch and models.

Most likely to surprise you with her command of English. And I quote, "You know, dia tak phone I pun after last night.... How can he do this to me?" Often her most verbose when inebriated and in the loo with her girlfriends at a popular club in town.

The Ganas Girl
Apa pandang-pandang, hah? Best recognised by the snarl that lurks on her lips, her curvaceous figure, seemingly unruly long hair and arched eyebrow. Yes, eyebrow. The effect wouldn't be quite the same if she arched both.

Most likely to have an affair with an older rich man who puts her up in a Gasing Heights condo. Also, ironically, most likely to discover the love of her life (read: the one that proves his affections by not buying her expensive hand bags) is married - two years into the relationship.

The Super Spedo
Oh, this one takes the cake. Although the term could very well apply to any of the above in some shape or form, this one has the skill of spedo down to a fine art.

It begins innocuously, because she often appears innocuous enough. A nice girl, decent family, has a white collar job in KLCC. But after the tenth date, you will realise she only eats at expensive restaurants, has full course meals even when you're meeting just for coffee, and has not bought any item in her wardrobe since she hit puberty.

This is the one to watch out for. The amazing thing is, every day, I see our poor Melayu boys trip all over her. Time after time.

Gentlemen, consider yourself warned ;-)

And if you're foreign, get someone to translate the local stuff above for you. I wouldn't be able to do it justice.

Mysterious Melayu Men

Because this post will inevitable be labelled racist, I am going to play my Melayu card up front. Yes, I am a Malay female. And yes, this is a diatribe against the Malay man. Not all Malay men, mind you, just the ones I don't understand.

And no, I didn't just get dumped by some random Malay man. In fact, I am very attached - still.

Okay, if anyone out there can provide rational explanations for the following, please come forward:

Mysterious Melayu Man #1: The door post
Why do some Malay men not know how to say hello when visiting your younger sister at home? Despite the fact that they are about to whisk away your sibling to some unnamed location, they don't see it proper to introduce themselves to you.

Instead, they hover at the door while your sister grabs her purse. Or better still, they don't even get out of their cars. And you're supposed to trust them, WHY???

Mysterious Melayu Male #2: The culvert clinger
Despite the invitation to enter the house, some young Malay men persist in conversing with their love interests (who happen to be inhabitants of your home) while sitting on the culvert, next to the monsoon drain. Right by where the nasty water flows.

I can't imagine anything less romantic. And neither, I am sure, can their jantung hati (loosely translated as apple of one's eye).

Mysterious Melayu male #3: The wanna-be adulterer
Once, I encountered a Melayu man who kept ringing my mobile on the pretext that it was a wrong number. After the third time, (don't ask me how) he made it known he was a friend of a friend. When I asked our common denominator, she was shocked, and deduced that he had obtained my number by scrolling through her mobile one afternoon while she was at his house. Oh, and need I mention that he was very married.

Here's what puzzles me. After going through all that effort and trickery, the entire exercise finally culminated in a few more phone calls and a visit to my house, to inspect my roof (he was a contractor).

If you really wanted to get it on with someone, couldn't you find a more explicit way of doing so, or at least stating your intention? Not that he would have gotten anywhere with that little stunt, but geez....

Mysterious Melayu Male #4: The image consultant
I don't know if this applies to all manner of men, but I have personally found it to be largely pronounced in Malay men. They LOVE to tell you how fat you are (read: how emasculated their skinny frames feel next to a woman with 36B cleavage), how mismatched your dress is (read: too short, too revealing, too attractive), how aggressive you are (read: how insipid you make them look) and how you are not a true Muslim daughter (read: it's OK for them to drink in public, but will you please carry a hip flask).

They fail to realise you could probably one-up them quite easily by pointing out their lack of muscles, their outdated Mat Rock hairdos and the fact that carrot-cut pants are no longer de rigeur. Neither are they old enough to be retro.

Mysterious Melayu Male #5: Mr Conversationalist
This one really cuts across all barriers - age, economics and upbringing. But it's peculiar to the Melayu men, nonetheless. In an attempt to strike up conversation with a woman, the inevitable pick-up line is always "Dah makan ke belum?" (Have you eaten?) And the intonation is always the same. "Dah makan ke beluuuuuummm?", accompanied with a leery look.

Boys, if you don't know it already, this is a sure sign of someone making a move on your chica. Get her outta there! And if you've been guilty of it yourselves, thank your lucky stars she actually stuck around long enough for you to get this far.

Seriously, BOYS! There MUST be a better way to get a woman's attention. Must Melayu men not just lack credibility.... must they lack creativity as well?

I better stop here. It's late. And I really want to curl up to my Malay other half. Oh, and did I forget to mention my four dogs.

Yes, I know. The Arabs have them too, I am told.

Excuse me ma'am, your bra is showing....

My horoscope prediction says that this month, Jupiter is in retrograde. Or is it Mercury? Either way, this translates into a lot of unnecessary havoc coming from left field.

Now, I am a sceptic. But honestly, if these past few weeks is anything to go by, maybe there's some merit in astrology after all.

The other day, I got dressed for work as usual. Since it was going to be a dreary day full of boring meetings, I thought I would spice it up a little. So, instead of the regulation white/skin/black bras, I reached out for my deep purple one. The women readers will know what I mean. You recall how all those magazines always tell you to wear sexy lingerie to boost your confidence? I suppose it creates what I call the Mona Lisa effect. Knowing secretly what you have underneath your clothes lends you that extra bit of mystery. You know, you'll be smiling to yourself, and all the men you meet won't be able to figure out why.... (Or the women, for that matter).

My first meeting of the day (and it was a serious meeting, talking about the state of the business, etc), I reach out for my cup of coffee and hear a small tearing sound coming from my back. Followed by a teensy drop in temperature. I looked around and no one had seemed to notice, so I kept very still. For the rest of the meeting.

After, I ran to the loo and discovered that my shirt had ripped. A three-inch vertical slit ran down my left shoulder blade exposing my very secret purple bra.

Aiyo, how la? I hastily tried to cancel my lunch meeting that was with a potential client and friend of mine. She immediately called me in disbelief. So, to prove to her I was telling the truth, off I trotted to Shook! to meet her.

Luckily for me, one of my bad habits finally paid off. I often get home each day and inadvertently leave one of my wraps or jackets in the car out of sheer forgetulness. As a result, the backseat of my car usually ends up containing half my wardrobe by the end of the month. So, I quickly trawled thorugh my backseat closet for something to cover up with. White shawl, nope, won't match, beige shawl, nope too ethnic... lime green one! Nope, won't match the pink vertical stripes on my blouse....

Finally I settled for a black jacket. Needless to say, all the meetings I had the rest of the day were in rooms where the air-conditioning was on economy mode. I was SWELTERING.

But what to do? In the name of fashion and modesty, I suffered in silence.

Next time, I think I'll just keep a spare shirt in the car.

Control Freaks

Get this. A media buyer I know was told by TV3 that the station no longer wholly determines its news content. Apparently, they are tightly controlled by Pak Lah's communications manager.

Either this is a bunch of hogwash, or our leader has gone a little bananas.

I know our media is controlled. Especially the likes of TV3. Heck in a closed door session I attended recently, two political observers noted that Pak Lah never in his promises mentions freedom of the press.

Now, think about it. If you look around you, what is the single most apparent thing emerging from the white clean slate of his administration. It's there, like invisible ink. You just have to find the secret solution that will reveal the hidden writing....

Control. Everything he does is about control. Erase corruption = control. Get rid of dissenters = control. Allow National Service to continue = control. Ensure Tv3 can't exercise its own judgement over what's aired = control.

Someone noted that Khairy is a very clever boy indeed. I concede. I myself don't have an Oxford degree. The person also said the young man and his coterie of Karim Raslan-esques are all truly sincere about the development of a modern government structure. One that I presume means no or minimal money politics, capable leaders who have brains, and an efficient government administrative team that has in-built checks and balances.

So far, I must say, I don't see it. Yes, it's early days. Yes, they need to clean things up before they can start anew. But heck, if in your efforts you can't already be an example of what you preach, what then?

Are we supposed to believe you and be patient enough to wait four years before we vote for PAS again, just to scare you?

The only thing I hope Khairy and his youthful tailcoats don't forget is this: Like you, we are a generation that thinks 30 seconds is too long for a web page to load. So, four years don't cut it. Either you show us you mean what you say, and demonstrate through your actions that you CAN do the job the way you want US to do it, or get a day job.

Otherwise, your 30-second commercial will be over before you can blink.

My Sister's Wife

A few nights ago, my sister had a revelation. After cconsidering her husband-to-be's penchant for perpetually cleaning the fish tank and bathing the dogs, his colour coordinated wardrobe and inability to sit still in the house, my sister has come to the conclusion that she is marrying a wife.

My reaction as the ever-supportive sibling was, "I could've told YOU that!"

Seriously. If you didn't know this man, you would think he was gay (and I mean that in the most positive way). He is so neat even my mother noticed. According to Mom's observations, he piles his food in very orderly mounds all round his plate.

Maybe he's metrosexual. Actually, my sister is convinced he is. He wants to stay home and be the domestic one. He leaves all major financial and family decisions to my sister. He loves shopping for her clothes and accessories. And no, I repeat, he's not gay. Believe me, I would know if he was.

The ironic thing about the happy couple (and they are happy) is that my sister had always grown up thinking she was going to be the house wife. Not someone who places a huge emphasis on the corporate ladder, her notable career achievements todate have been more a result of her in-built discipline and sheer intelligence. Not, in short, out of her trying too hard to succeed. She just does, naturally.

Personally, I think this will be fantastic for my sister. She's historically been the sort of women who moulds herself to her man. And I have always found this a darned shame. In the past, she's turned from super achiever in high school to a mousy-looking baju kurung from Globe Silk Store-wearing Malay girl due to a fairly religious other half. In another iteration of "wrong-mance", she uprooted her life and moved across the Causeway to be with a less-than-desirable loser who practically left her out in the cold the moment she got there.

Somehow, with this one, she's emerged stronger, more confident and a lot more like the old sister I grew up with.

And you know what? I like it. I like this new old her. Heck, wife or husband, her other half's done her good.

Now, I wonder who's going to tell Mom that her new son-in-law should be the one wearing the bridal gown at the reception......

I Want To Be A Minister

Forget the corporate job! Why bother with starting up my own business!

I've decided the only job in this country worth having, that pays you tons of untaxable income, with little stress, is that of a YB.

Today I read an article quoting our new Energy, Water and Communications Minister, Lim Keng Yaik. He was criticising the cellular network operators for being slow in rolling out coverage across Malaysia. And I quote: “When I go back to my constituency, I want the people to always be able to communicate with me. I don’t want them to say ‘He is the communications minister, but we have a hard time reaching him (on the phone).'"

Aiyoh, kalau kampung you kat bukit macam mana nak dapat Maxis? Guna fixed line aje lah!

I am not going into details about the folly of his arguments. It's my lunch break and my Fish McDippers have made me quite sleepy.

But, here's the clincher. Halfway through the article, the journalist asks YB Lim about his new responsibilities. His reply? “I will talk to the Prime Minister regarding this matter soon."

I dare say even my pets know their roles and responsibilities: Don't poo in the house, don't make too much noise, and be sure to act interested when owner comes home.

I'd like to know what the Cabinet Ministers' appointment letters look like. Maybe next time I apply for a job, and they ask me what I think I can achieve, I will try the Cabinet response.

Heck, maybe I WILL talk to the Prime Minister soon.

The Marbeck Effect

OK, this whole Sarah Marbeck saga really has taken on a life of its own. I take my hat off to her. She's unwittingly become the biggest thing since the elections. Heck, even the PM doesn't get front page mentions anymore.

Because of her, the question I have been most asked the past two days has been "Did you know she went to OUR school????". Since she had at least two local alma maters, I shall leave it to you to guess which one was mine.

Now the biggest cause for concern seems to be the fact that Ms Marbeck is symptomatic of a growing trend of young women seeking very alternative career choices. Instead of doing the usual tried and true graduate-and-get-a-decent job thing, they become social escorts or "paid dates" with all the delicious in-betweens.

Give me a break. This ain't nothing new. And in these sorts of trying times, what does one expect? It's every person for him or herself, so if you got it, you might as well flaunt it before it sags. Even then, there's plastic surgery.

Anyone who does the math will tell you the road to riches is probably to be your own boss. Or mistress, in this case.

More and more, I am convinced that this whole being an employee thing ain't gonna get one nowhere.

This week I had the fortune of spending time with some very senior people from a local telecommunications company. And I mean serious two-days-in-a row-with-lunch-at-a-very-small-table-in-the-cafeteria-included sort of time.

This is the main perk of my job. Once in a while, I get close enough to the movers and shakers of KL to see what is really going down. And the prognosis is not good.

The most acute observation I was able to make after the two days is that our corporate giants are a very tired lot. And I don't mean in the "way past due date" sort of tired, but physically, emotionally and mentally drained for having to deal with the problems they are now inheriting from previous management follies and shareholder pressures for increasingly fat bottomline figures.

Here's a company that has been in the red. It's lost hundreds of millions due to several bad leaders in the past. And shareholders expect the new team to turn it around in a year?

If this sounds familiar to you, please send me a shout out. Your company has been raking in the revenue, but profits are sliding. Your sales volumes have been on the up and up, but so have been costs. Result: boss man says, MORE! And at very little extra pay (if any). Oh, and have they mentioned with less extra help?

This spiral has got to stop.

I do not in any way perceive myself as genius, but am I the only one wondering when the powers that be will have to eat their shorts and realise human capital has its limits? Take my company for example. We're so short-staffed and overworked, our client management teams are in tears. As senior management, I not only have to motivate staff with no incentives, but also deal with an adminstrative system that cannot even cope with the daily rituals. On Friday, I was faced with two irate clients who had received invoices that were addressed to non-existent persons in their companies. What they didn't know is that the addressees did exist - but they worked for some other company we service.

If we can't even get the basics right, what's the point?

This is the price we're paying in the corporate sector. Scary thing is, after spending two days with the telco giants, I realised the issue is larger than my own microcosm. It is a problem with Malaysian management in general. Things have gone unchecked for so long, when they finally put the right people in place, they don't have a fighting chance.

For all my criticisms of the new government, I hope they are not in the same situation. Although I cannot help but wonder if they too have been unfortunate heirs to a crumbling throne. The Government talks about economic recovery and GDP growth. But where is it? Shops are empty, restaurants ghostly. People are not buying. Everyone I talk to is buckling down and counting the pennies.

If this is recovery, I don't want to know what a slide backwards is.

The only people who seem to be energised are the small folks. People who own their own businesses and control their own time. People who play golf on weekdays and still bring home the bacon. Ok-lah, maybe it ain't a whole hog, but it's still food on the table.

I am reading a book called "The curious incident of the dog in the night-time". It is told from the point of view of an autistic boy who has an inclination for math. In one instance, he talks about how the population of frogs in his school's pond is actually explainable through a mathematical formula. In essence, it is the natural law of balance. Too much of something and you're bound to see a serious downturn before equilibrium is reached.

Maybe that's what is happening around us. There are just too many frogs and the pond ain't big enough. In which case, I hope someone will do the math real soon, because somehow, our numbers just aren't adding up.

Sudah-Lah!

I wonder how long it will take before Sarah Marbeck becomes the subject of Cabinet meetings or Parliamentary discussions. And more interestingly, I wonder which one of our esteemed new leaders will take the bait!

To say it will be Nik Aziz and company is too easy. Anyone with a serban will probably find her head-shaking "ish-ish-ish, dahsyat" material. If PAS is smart, they will limit discussions on her to post-Friday prayer gossip. Jangan lah sampai khutbah pulak!

Seeing that Ms Marbeck has made the front page of The Star (no less!), I am assuming (in our environment of oh-so-non-politically controlled media) it will only be a matter of time before a member of Mr Clean's team takes issue on Sarah's apparent less-than-hygienic life. Question is WHO?

Maybe it will be the well-groomed Sharizat, since from the looks of things, Ms Marbeck was probably a resident of our Minister's infamous Pantai constituency a.k.a Den of Sin (in PAS' books).

Or perhaps it will be Black Dan Putri. After all, sex IS something often of concern to her Ministry's core target audience. And in some books, it also constitutes a form of sport. (Incidentally, isn't it time the Putri leader turned into a Wanita or something?)

Hey it could even be Rafidah! After all, Sarah, based on recent accounts, could loosely translate into a form of export!

Or how about a Tourism Ministry "Visit Sarah's old haunts" package? Special discounts for ex-Spice Girls....

The ironic thing about Sarah is the timing. It could not have been better. As Pak Lah embarks on his Great Flush Out, nothing better could have happened than to have Malaysia once more claim infamy through a harmless pretty face.

Which brings me to the real issue I meant to talk about. Has anyone noticed how quiet KL has become lately? Yes, the rush hour traffic is worse than ever, mainly due to the torrential downpours. But on the other hand, no one's staying in town after working hours any more.

I chatted with a restauranteur today and he told me something very interesting. Apparently, the police and every other type of vice squad imaginable have been busy cracking down on entertainment outlets. Road blocks on every week day, and raids in every major club in town.

The most disturbing thing about it all is that the religious authorities seem to have gained new zeal in exercising their right to intervene in the social habits of Muslims. According to my pal, he knows of at least two Muslims who are being hauled up to Syariah Court because they went to a dance club.

Okay. I know what the Syariah law says. I know what Islam says about sinful jaunts like clubs. But if you're going down that road, shouldn't you also raid other forms of "sinful" entertainment like karaoke lounges and even cinemas? Or how about Dataran Merdeka? Surely all that girl-watching can't be good for a Mat Rempik's libido?

In case Pak Lah hasn't noticed, there are more pressing issues. If you want to clean up KL, don't sweep the roads. Falling leaves will be falling leaves. If you want to clean up KL, get rid of the vice dens. Reform the law so rapists are easier to convict and track. Make the justice system more accessible to women and children who are abused. Get your Special Branch boys off their asses and instruct them to dissolve the Chinese Triads.

And for heaven's sakes sequester your Cabinet Ministers! Remove their signing authority on major infrastructure projects. Exile their cronies and relatives so you can be assured of no nepotism.

And please, ask your son-in-law to get a new job in a different country.

Oh and of course, tell your son to stop peddling his wares to terrorists.

Honestly. Does our Government have nothing better to do? Sometimes they remind me of my high school prefectorial board. We used to spend endless Monday afternoons debating whether we should instill new rulings about the length of girls' finger nails. Never mind that some of our peers were in dire need of counselling.

Sometimes I think our new leader is akin to the Emperor and His New Clothes. Only ours has an invisible serban. Heck, maybe we even DID vote PAS into power. We just don't know it.

If recent events in KL are anything to come by, I'd rather have PAS in power. At least, there is absolute transparency on where they stand vis-a-vis personal freedom. You have NONE.

Then, I can make a clear decision on whether I want to surrender my RM600 Malaysian passport. But before that, I will hold a huge foam party in honour of Sarah Marbeck. Admissions free for Muslims. On-the-spot conversions also offered at the door for late comers. Oh, and tudung pole dancers will of course be de rigeur.

Any takers?

The Consequence Of Rain

Maybe it's the unceasing rain we've been experiencing over the last few days, or perhaps it's my guilty conscience about not having finished some work that is now due in twelve hours. But I haven't left my house the entire weekend except to go to the mamak across the street for food.

In the larger scheme of things, these past two days will probably be archived in my memory as some of the many rainy days that have resulted in me being home, pensive, with no Astro access. But this weekend has got me thinking about the people in my life. And how they are so unusual. And how I cannot imagine my warped sense of normalcy without them.

And how they inspire me to think of alternative means to living out life in KL.

1. My other half is increasingly an inspiration for me to have life goals. Not the "I want to be a millionaire before I'm thirty" kind of goals, but real goals that are uniquely personal to an individual. You'd be hard pressed to beat this list:
a. To be a back-up singer in a Black Gospel choir (because it looks like fun!)
b. To own a sombrero and a poncho, AND wear them in public! (I have no idea why, still...)
c. To retire to a house on the beach (this one, I fully support!)
d. To track down that favourite retro plastic masak-masak set of my other half's childhood
e. To own a pair of liederhosen!

Needless to say, we laugh a lot.

2. I have a friend who has now declared she doesn't want to move to Level 2. She's been pursuing someone for the past few months in secret (we still don't know who this person is), but has now decided the chase is better than the end result. Since she's a tech freak, I suggested that perhaps she needed to find the "crack" so she could enjoy the full version. To which my sage other half commented that perhaps our mutual friend preferred the demo. Life in demo. I must say, if you really think about it, there may be some merit to that concept.

3. My funny friend whom I've written about earlier was over last night and early this morning. I've since learned her mother sometimes turns into a naga. No, I'M NOT KIDDING. The woman used to check out periodically from her family, and go into dragon mode. Apparently, she used to be one in her past life.

All this got me thinking further. You know how they say you should always network in order to increase your career possibilities? I think the above might provide some clues as to why I still have not left my very dissatisfying job.

Imagine if I really sat down and applied this whole networking theory to a new job search. I know an expert in the demo lifestyle, a sometimes naga's daughter, and am married to an other half who has a penchant for liederhosen....

Macam mana nak dapat kerja dalam opis la? Unless of course the employer is desparately seeking someone to write a new software program that teaches children of former mythical creatures about the traditional clothing of different cultures..... But then again, anything I do, would probably only end up in a demo version....

It needs to stop raining. Soon. Or else.

Wagging The Deputy Dawg

I have a boss who will not sign contracts. My boss does not reply e-mails on very important matters other than to post too-late comments on things gone too wrong. And my Chairman's response to us senior management? "How could you let that happen?!!"

Needless to say, I want to quit my job, even without anything else in hand.

Now, on to bigger and more interesting things. I just needed to get that off my chest!

Thailand is doing a bang-up job with its latest campaign - a loyalty card for its frequent visitors. How ingenious. And it wasn't even a really original idea. They just took a leaf out of the credit card marketer's books and applied it to their own industry.

I guess from that aspect, we can congratulate our DPM for his latest stroke of brilliance (or was it luck?). As part of his PR campaign to stem the rising tsunami of criticism against the ill-planned National Service initiative, he's launched a loyalty card too. Maybe he's a frequent visitor to Thailand...

Which, going by his new boss' outlook, is not something the poor fella should be counting on as part of his Ministerial perks in the near future. Seriously, it must suck to be Number Two right now.

1. He's gotta grin and bear it when listening to all the criticism about our education system (seeing that most of the recent sweeping changes were his doing...)
2. By Prime Ministerial decree, DPM now has to quietly persuade his own number twos threes and eteceteras to silently please disappear elegantly into the moonlight with their Lulu Guinness handbags
3. He has to somehow find a way to dissuade his wifey from bargain basement hunting (I am told she is popularly known as Datin Ten Percent. And no, we're not talking the Great Malaysian Sale here....)
4. He's losing hair faster than his credibility.

Judging from his predecessors in Cabinet with the same affliction, I think the last worry should be his primary cause for concern. Unless he dons a wig (something our Cabinet has never been able to tastefully pick out for themselves) there ain't nothin' he can do that would amount to a decent cover up.

All that, and we haven't even got to chatting about the whole National Dis-Service fiasco. Though you gotta hand it to the man - if ever there was someone who has found a way to discreetly outshine his new boss, the boy's pretty slick at it. Get some gangsters to bash up some boot camp city kid, a contractor to underfeed them and you have the premise for a flag-waving, adolescent love fest of a media campaign.

In the words of Idol judge Randy Jackson, "What up, dawg?"

I think it's a phase of the moon. I am definitely in the evil element this evening ;-)

Or maybe Najib just needs to get himself an organiser. I am told them Palm Pilots do a career good. Although from my past experience, they do tend to crash on you every so often.

Ah, perhaps that's the real explanation after all. Once again, Western technology has failed us.

Will The Real Slim Siti Please Stand Up?

I had the interesting experience of witnessing a live performance by Malaysia's favourite vestal virgin, Siti Nurhaliza tonight. And before all you Siti fans out there go up in arms, stand down. The girl has an amazing singing voice. She truly deserves the accolades she has received.

But.

And with me, there's always a but or I wouldn't write about it.

Something inside me wondered how she would stand up to the likes of the jury in American Idol. Or Malaysian Idol, for that matter, now that I hear we are about to embark on that same treacherous path ourselves.

My few sen worth: I don't think the poor girl would stand a chance.

I don't think she would stand a chance against the likes of a Ning (whose singing I mildly dislike). She might have a whisker of hope against a Sheila (who we all know was created by someone else), but certainly not the feisty Ning.

If Siti were a nameless girl with an amazing voice, my SMS wager would be on the other horse, whoever that may be.

The problem with Siti is not that she lacks the natural ability to do the basic thing singers are meant to do. The problem with Siti is she is just that - a singer, and nothing more. She is a hesitant entertainer at best, a nerve-wracking stage performer at worst. I don't know of any other singer who hesitates to ask a member of the audience five times if it is OK to pull him or her up on stage to sing or dance (read: Make a fool of themselves for free to take some pressure off the performer who is paid by the minute.)

Being a somewhat backstage member of the whole production, I also had the luxury of witnessing the whole Siti entourage at arm's length. I have to say, that part of her entertainment machine was pretty impressive. It had all the trappings of a super star's universe. The big burly bodyguard with a pony tail and matching beard, clad in a long-sleeved batik shirt. I have to give the guy credit. He at least looked like he'd had a bath. The fairy dust whirl of queens who quietly walked ahead of her, with that all-too-familiar "I know all about Siti" look on their subtly foundationed faces.

If any of you have watched the movie "The Fifth Element", think of the scene where the diva Plava Laguna (who happens to be a strange blue extra-terrestrial with many arms or limbs) arrives. That's Siti's world.

Again, let me say, the girl has talent. Only thing is, I am not altogether too sure if we will ever get to see or discover the extent of her God-given talents. In fact, in my worst seconds driving home tonight, I started to wonder if there really was another Siti behind the demure smile.

To Siti, I will say this. I applaud you for how far you've come. Your English has improved markedly. But I still feel we do not know you. Not the same way we know Ning or Anita or any other true entertainer who has earned the title of idol. In fact, I hope someday you will discover yourself for who you really are.

I'd like to know what Siti's real musical preferences are. I'd like to know what kind of singer she really wants to grow up to be.

Heck. I'd just like to see her all grown up.

Problem is, does the rest of Malaysia?

Life- The Long And Short Of It

Last week I learned that someone I went to college with was murdered coming out of his office parking lot in Atlanta. There was a website already up in his memory, filled with thoughts and wishes from those who knew him. I saw many familiar names at the bottom of those messages. Funny thing is, I never really knew Okon. He was just one of those people who become part of your life's background vista. But the memories I have of him are consistent with the descriptions people are leaving behind of the man on his website.

Which led me to think that perhaps you don't really have to know someone, to know someone.

My grandfather is on another hunger strike. We suspect that he does this as a form of demanding attention from his very extended family. I suppose when you're 94, you can do whatever the heck you want. I myself often say that I will be a really feisty, nasty old lady on a Vespa who will turn cursing at bell boys into a past time. Grandpa's been checked into the hospital. Dad's theory is that Grandpa likes being in hospitals. Mine and my sister's inklings are that the old codger just wants his cucu to run around town buying every brand of fast food in sight, hoping to strike the right chord with his tummy.

Sometimes, you don't even know someone if you know them all your lives.

This past week was one of unpleasant revelations all round. Even people I was tenuously connected to had bad news to bear. Someone I know has a brother in ICU, due to the fact that a Shell tanker crashed into his new car. The tanker driver was high on dope. The victim is said to have a fifty-fifty chance, having already undergone six operations and scheduled for four more.

Needless to say there has been a procession of Shell folk - local and Mat Salleh - visiting the boy's parents, cajoling him to sign one thing or another. But the boy's mother, despite her kampung upbringing, has been surprisingly astute. She hired a lawyer herself to deal with the big city boys.

And all this, I learned leaning against a high-backed chair on the way to my table at one of my regular restaurants. The victim's brother is a waiter there.

When they say life is short, they forget to tell you it can also be long. Sometimes, we die before we get to do everything. Sometimes, we don't. There are some of us who stay alive, even when we can't find new things to keep our appetites going.

I think some new adages are necessary for our age. In a time where life is lived at almost light speed, surely some things no longer apply. The old assumption that to know something or someone in enough detail in order to form a justifiably balanced impression takes time, a lot of time, should no longer be taught to our children.

Fact is, it doesn't take a lot of time to know someone at all. It just takes effort. And whether we make that effort is something else altogether.