Flower Of Life

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Tagged and thanks as im just too freaking bored!

Three names you go by?
1. Jeeva
2. Jee
3. Minnal

Three physical things you like about yourself?
1. My hair
2. My smile
3. My flat tummy..:P

Three physical things you don't like about yourself?
1. My height!
2. My weight!...underweight man!
3. My hairy arms and legs

Three parts of your heritage?
1. height?follow granny and great granny
2. my ceylonese look?(sumone told me tat b4)

Three things you can't stand?
1. ppl who r late and make me wait
2. uncleanliness
3. ppl who spend on branded stuff too much

Three things that scare you?
1. getting sum serious illness
2. ppl in trance
3. going sum place new all bymyself

Three of your favourite shows?
1. all CSI
2. Ghost whisperer
3. desperate housewifes

Three of your favourite Japanese animes?

Three of your favourite current songs?
1. Ragasiya Kanavugal-Bheema
2. ArabuNade- thottal poo malarum
3. Umbrella-Rihanna

Three movies you can watch over and over again?
1.Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Ghaum
3. Santhi Nilayam

Three movies you would like to watch?
1. Bheema
2. thottal poo malarum
3. Kreedam

Three of your everyday essentials?
1. contact lens(im practically blind)
2 . HP
3. Ipod

Three things that you are wearing right now?
1. long sheeve t-shirt

Three things you want in a relationship?
1. Romance
2. Trust
3. Understanding

Three physical things about the opposite gender that appeals to you?
1. Eyes
2. Smile
3. body...:P

Three bad habits?
1.Kelam kabut
3. my short temper

Three of your favourite hobbies?
1. Reading
2. Music
3. Watching tv

Three careers you're considering or currently pursuing?
1. Teaching
2. Designing
3. Wife and mother in 5 years time…hahaha

Three places you want to go on vacation?
1. India
2. Paris
3. Switzerland

Three kid's names you like?
1. tatiana
2. Vishal
3. Aishu(hahahha)

Three things you want to do before you die?
1. get married
2. have kids
3. travel around the world

Three things that you are stereotypically a [girl]?
1. dressing up and make up
2. Cleanliness
3. Love cleaning up?

Initials of three crushes?
1. D
2. S
3. ?

Monday, July 30, 2007

Buried in books

I know i havent updated my blog like for donkey years.Have been extremely lazy.

Well,for starters,im gona post on the books ive been indulging into lately.Borrowed them from the Uni library during my last visit.

Have Read :A Hard Man is Good To Find by Jane Blackwood

Stop The Press…

Here's the front page story: Pulitzer Prize-winning, buttoned-up journalist, Harry Crandall, becomes publisher of small-town newspaper. Firing reporters left and right, he makes no friends in the newsroom, especially not with the cute, rough-around-the-edges editor, Jamie McLane. She’s got a pool going—first reporter who can find out why the cold-hearted-but-extremely gorgeous taskmaster had to leave New York takes the jackpot. And she plans to be the winner...if she can keep from falling for the jerk.

Are You Getting This All Down?

Here's the curve ball: Turns out Crandall thinks McLane's one of the best natural reporters he's ever met. Sure, she needs practice—some late nights; a little field work; a lot of arguing behind closed doors that leaves him ready for a cold shower. His reporter’s instincts tell him she's working hard to get the story on him, but if she wants him to reveal his sources, she'll have to be willing to give him something of hers in return...

My testimonial : This book is quite romantic and i like the flow of the story. Not very serious and keeps me hooked.I have grown a liking for the author and I can't wait to get my hands on her other books...:)

Now Reading :
Sister of My Heart by Chirta Baneerjee Divakarun

Synopsis : Divakaruni’s new novel is entitled Sister of My Heart. This book is about how the lives of two women are changed by marriage, as one woman comes to California, and the other stays behind in India.

Anju is the daughter of an upper-caste Calcutta family of distinction. Sudha is the daughter of the black sheep of that same family. Sudha is startlingly beautiful; Anju is not. Despite these differences, since the day the two girls were born—the same day their fathers died, mysteriously and violently—Sudha and Anju have been sisters of the heart. Bonded in ways even their mothers cannot comprehend, the two girls grow into womanhood as if their fates, as well as their hearts, are merged.

When Sudha learns a dark family secret, that connection is threatened. For the first time in their lives, the girls know what it is to feel suspicion and distrust—Sudha, because she feels a new shame that she cannot share with Anju; and Anju, because she discovers the seductive power of her sister’s beauty, a power Sudha herself is incapable of controlling. When, due to a change in family fortune, the girls are urged into arranged marriages, their lives take opposite turns. One travels to America, and one remains in India; both have lives of secrets. When tragedy strikes both of them, however, they discover that, despite distance and marriage, they must turn to each other once again.

Testimonial :

“Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s account of family life in Bengal is warm and richly detailed. Hers is one of the most strikingly lyrical voices writing about the lives of Indian women today.” (Amitav Ghosh)

“Ms. Divakaruni emphasizes the cathartic force of storytelling with sumptuous prose…she defies categorization, beautifully blending the chills of reality with rich imaginings.” (Wall Street Journal)

“Mesmerizing…a masterful allegory of unfulfilled desire and sacrificial love.” (Publishers Weekly)

“What an irresistibly absorbing immersion in the pleasure and anguish of growing up passionate in a world of duty, where each comfort is hedged with a constraint and love unsettles every plan. Sister of My Heart may be alive with exotic detail but its emotions are very recognizable.” (Rosellen Brown)

Chapter 1

They say in the old tales that the first night after a child is born, the Bidhata Purush comes down to earth himself to decide what its fortune is to be. That is why they bathe babies in sandalwood water and wrap them in soft red malmal, color of luck. That is why they leave sweetmeats by the cradle. Silver-leafed sandesh, dark pantuas floating in golden syrup, jilipis orange as the heart of a fire, glazed with honey-sugar. If the child is especially lucky, in the morning it will all be gone.

“That’s because the servants sneak in during the night and eat them,” says Anju, giving her head an impatient shake as Abha Pishi oils her hair. This is how she is, my cousin, always scoffing, refusing to believe. But she knows, as I do, that no servant in all of Calcutta would dare eat sweets meant for a god.

The old tales say this also: In the wake of the Bidhata Purush come the demons, for that is the world’s nature, good and evil mingled. That is why they leave an oil lamp burning. That is why they place the sacred tulsi leaf under the baby’s pillow for protection. In richer households, like the one my mother grew up in, she has told us, they hire a brahmin to sit in the corridor and recite auspicious prayers all night.

“What nonsense,” Anju says. “There are no demons.”

I am not so sure. Perhaps they do not have the huge teeth, the curved blood-dripping claws and bulging red eyes of our Children’s Ramayan Picture Book, but I have a feeling they exist. Haven’t I sensed their breath, like slime-black fingers brushing my spine? Later, when we are alone, I will tell Anju this.

But in front of others I am always loyal to her. So I say, bravely, “That’s right. Those are just old stories.”

It is early evening on our terrace, its bricks overgrown with moss. A time when the sun hangs low on the horizon, half hidden by the pipal trees which line our compound walls all the way down the long driveway to the bolted wrought-iron gates. Our great-grandfather had them planted one hundred years ago to keep the women of his house safe from the gaze of strangers. Abha Pishi, one of our three mothers, has told us this.

Yes, we have three mothers—perhaps to make up for the fact that we have no fathers.
There’s Pishi, our widow aunt who threw herself heart-first into her younger brother’s household when she lost her husband at the age of eighteen. Dressed in austere white, her graying hair cut close to her scalp in the orthodox style so that the bristly ends tickle my palms when I run my hands over them, she’s the one who makes sure we are suitably dressed for school in the one-inch-below-the-knee uniforms the nuns insist on. She finds for us, miraculously, stray pens and inkpots and missing pages of homework. She makes us our favorite dishes: luchis rolled out and fried a puffy golden-brown, potato and cauliflower curry cooked without chilies, thick sweet payesh made from the milk of Budhi-cow, whose owner brings her to our house each morning to be milked under Pishi’s stern, miss-nothing stare. On holidays she plaits jasmine into our hair. But most of all Pishi is our fount of information, the one who tells us the stories our mothers will not, the secret, delicious, forbidden tales of our past.

There’s Anju’s mother, whom I call Gouri Ma, her fine cheekbones and regal forehead hinting at generations of breeding, for she comes from a family as old and respected as that of the Chatterjees, which she married into. Her face is not beautiful in the traditional sense—even I, young as I am, know this. Lines of hardship are etched around her mouth and on her forehead, for she was the one who shouldered the burden of keeping the family safe on that thunderclap day eight years ago when she received news of our fathers’ deaths. But her eyes, dark and endless-deep—they make me think of Kalodighi, the enormous lake behind the country mansion our family used to own before Anju and I were born. When Gouri Ma smiles at me with her eyes, I stand up straighter. I want to be noble and brave, just like her

Lastly (I use this word with some guilt), there’s my own mother, Nalini. Her skin is still golden, for though she’s a widow my mother is careful to apply turmeric paste to her face each day. Her perfect-shaped lips glisten red from paan, which she loves to chew—mostly for the color it leaves on her mouth, I think. She laughs often, my mother, especially when her friends come for tea and talk. It is a glittery, tinkling sound, like jeweled ankle bells, people say, though I myself feel it is more like a thin glass struck with a spoon. Her cheek feels as soft as the lotus flower she’s named after on those rare occasions when she presses her face to mine. But more often when she looks at me a frown ridges her forehead between eyebrows beautiful as wings. Is it from worry or displeasure? I can never tell. Then she remembers that frowns cause age lines and smoothes it away with a finger.

Now Pishi stops oiling Anju’s hair to give us a wicked smile. Her voice grows low and shivery, the way it does when she’s telling ghost stories. “They’re listening, you know. The demons. And they don’t like little eight-year-old girls talking like this. Just wait till tonight . . .”
Because I am scared I interrupt her with the first thought that comes into my head. “Pishi Ma, tell no, did the sweets disappear for us?”

Sorrow moves like smoke-shadow over Pishi’s face. I can see that she would like to make up another of those outrageous tales that we so love her to tell, full of magic glimmer and hoping. But finally she says, her voice flat, “No, Sudha. You weren’t so lucky.”

I know this already. Anju and I have heard the whispers. Still, I must ask one more time.
“Did you see anything that night?” I ask. Because she was the one who stayed with us the night of our birth while our mothers lay in bed, still in shock from the terrible telegram which had sent them both into early labor that morning. Our mothers, lying in beds they would never again share with their husbands. My mother weeping, her beautiful hair tangling about her swollen face, punching at a pillow until it burst, spilling cotton stuffing white as grief. Gouri Ma, still and silent, staring up into a darkness which pressed upon her like the responsibilities she knew no one else in the family could take on.

To push them from my mind I ask urgently, “Did you at least hear something?”
Pishi shakes her head in regret. “Maybe the Bidhata Purush doesn’t come for girl-babies.” In her kindness she leaves the rest unspoken, but I’ve heard the whispers often enough to complete it in my head. For girl-babies who are so much bad luck that they cause their fathers to die even before they are born.

Anju scowls, and I know that as always she can see into my thoughts with the X-ray vision of her fiercely loving eyes. “Maybe there’s no Bidhata Purush either,” she states and yanks her hair from Pishi’s hands though it is only half-braided. She ignores Pishi’s scolding shouts and stalks to her room, where she will slam the door.

But I sit very still while Pishi’s fingers rub the hibiscus oil into my scalp, while she combs away knots with the long, soothing rhythm I have known since the beginning of memory. The sun is a deep, sad red, and I can smell, faint on the evening air, wood smoke. The pavement dwellers are lighting their cooking fires. I’ve seen them many times when Singhji, our chauffeur, drives us to school: the mother in a worn green sari bent over a spice-grinding stone, the daughter watching the baby, keeping him from falling into the gutter. The father is never there. Maybe he is running up a platform in Howrah station in his red turban, his shoulders knotted from carrying years of trunks and bedding rolls, crying out, “Coolie chahiye, want a coolie, memsaab?” Or maybe, like my father, he too is dead.

Whenever I thought this my eyes would sting with sympathy, and if by chance Ramur Ma, the vinegary old servant woman who chaperones us everywhere, was not in the car, I’d beg Singhji to stop so I could hand the girl a sweet out of my lunch box. And he always did.
Among all our servants—but no, I do not really think of him as a servant—I like Singhji the best. Perhaps it is because I can trust him not to give me away to the mothers the way Ramur Ma does. Perhaps it is because he is a man of silences, speaking only when necessary—a quality I appreciate in a house filled with female gossip. Or perhaps it is the veil of mystery which hangs over him.

When Anju and I were about five years old, Singhji appeared at our gate one morning—like a godsend, Pishi says—looking for a driver’s job. Our old chauffeur had recently retired, and the mothers needed a new one badly but could not afford it. Since the death of the fathers, money had been short. In his broken Bengali, Singhji told Gouri Ma he’d work for whatever she could give him. The mothers were a little suspicious, but they guessed that he was so willing because of his unfortunate looks. It is true that his face is horrifying at first glance—I am embarrassed to remember that as a little girl I had screamed and run away when I saw him. He must have been caught in a terrible fire years ago, for the skin of the entire upper half of his face—all the way up to his turban—is the naked, puckered pink of an old burn. The fire had also scorched away his eyebrows and pulled his eyelids into a slant, giving him a strangely oriental expression at odds with the thick black mustache and beard that covers the rest of his face.

“He’s lucky we hired him at all,” Mother’s fond of saying. “Most people wouldn’t have because that burned forehead is a sure sign of lifelong misfortune. Besides, he’s so ugly.”
I do not agree. Sometimes when he does not know that I am watching him, I have caught a remembering look, at once faraway and intent, in Singhji’s eyes—the kind of look an exiled king might have as he thinks about the land he left behind. At those times his face is not ugly at all, but more like a mountain peak that has withstood a great ice storm. And somehow I feel we are the lucky ones because he chose to come to us.

Once I heard the servants gossiping about how Singhji had been a farmer somewhere in Punjab until the death of his family from a cholera epidemic made him take to the road. It made me so sad that although Mother had strictly instructed me never to talk about personal matters with any of the servants, I ran out to the car and told him how sorry I was about his loss. He nodded silently. No other response came from the burned wall of his face. But a few days later he told me that he used to have a child.

Though Singhji offered no details about this child, I immediately imagined that it had been a little girl my age. I could not stop thinking of her. How did she look? Did she like the same foods we did? What kinds of toys had Singhji bought for her from the village bazaar? For weeks I would wake up crying in the middle of the night because I had dreamed of a girl thrashing about on a mat, delirious with pain. In the dream she had my face.

“Really, Sudha!” Anju would tell me, in concern and exasperation—I often slept in her room and thus the job of comforting me fell to her—“How come you always get so worked up about imaginary things?”

That is what she would be saying if she were with me right now. For it seems to me I am receding, away from Pishi’s capable hands, away from the solidity of the sun-warmed bricks under my legs, that I am falling into the first night of my existence, where Anju and I lie together in a makeshift cradle in a household not ready for us, sucking on sugared nipples someone has put in our mouths to keep us quiet. Anjali and Basudha, although in all the turmoil around us no one has thought to name us yet. Anjali, which means offering, for a good woman is to offer up her life for others. And Basudha, so that I will be as patient as the earth goddess I am named after. Below us, Pishi is a dark, stretched-out shape on the floor, fallen into exhausted sleep, the dried salt of tears crusting her cheeks.

The Bidhata Purush is tall and has a long, spun-silk beard like the astrologer my mother visits each month to find out what the planets have in store for her. He is dressed in a robe made of the finest white cotton, his fingers drip light, and his feet do not touch the ground as he glides toward us. When he bends over our cradle, his face is so blinding-bright I cannot tell his expression. With the first finger of his right hand he marks our foreheads. It is a tingly feeling, as when Pishi rubs tiger-balm on our temples. I think I know what he writes for Anju. You will be brave and clever, you will fight injustice, you will not give in. You will marry a fine man and travel the world and have many sons. You will be happy.

It is more difficult to imagine what he writes for me. Perhaps he writes beauty, for though I myself do not think so, people say I am beautiful—even more than my mother was in the first years of her marriage. Perhaps he writes goodness, for though I am not as obedient as my mother would like, I try hard to be good. There is a third word he writes, the harsh angles of which sting like fire, making me wail, making Pishi sit up, rubbing her eyes. But the Bidhata Purush is gone already, and all she sees is a swirl—cloud or sifted dust—outside the window, a fading glimmer, like fireflies.

Years later I will wonder, that final word he wrote, was it sorrow?

My testimonial : This book is very captivating and a very very good read!Can't wait to continue reading when i'm in he bus later!..:P

Will Be Reading :Liar, Liar by Gabrielle Williams

Synopses & Reviews
Publisher Comments:

In this charming debut novel from Down Under--where the clubs, the drinks, the fashion, and the sex is out-of-control--the only thing more insane than lying your way into someone's heart is telling the truth to stay there. Ellie is a commitment-phobe trying to get over Ben who dumped her for stable, boring Kate. She's got the hots for Minnow, who has the hots for her--or did, until Ellie got scared (hello, commitment) and blurted out that she has a kid. Which she doesn't. (Goodbye, Minnow.) Minnow can't be attracted to Ellie. She's a mother. A sexy, completely desirable mother. It's bad enough that he's already told Mona at work that he's a single dad--which worked like a charm. Of course, it might work on Ellie, too. Getting an actual kid is no problemo. He can just borrow his friend Kate's... Kate can't believe the nerve of Minnow, asking to "borrow" her eight-year-old son. If he weren't her dearest friend, well, she'd probably be in bed with him like half of female Australia. Thank heavens she's got Ben... Ben's just happy he's got a gig. His band is on the rise, playing every hot club in Melbourne. And now, he and Kate are finally going to meet this hot girl Minnow keeps talking about--Ellie something-or-other. It couldn't be Ben's Ellie, though, because this woman has a kid....

Thursday, May 24, 2007

5 words to describe your relationship

Are you in a spiritual partnership? The first step to finding out is to write down five words that describe your relationship. Be as honest as you can—don't write down words that describe what you wish it would be. Ask your partner to do the same thing. It will start a very interesting conversation.

Jee says :
Passionate, Loving, Caring, Understanding, Trust

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Passing my time...

1. Name someone who made you smile today
:)...darling bf

2. What were you doing at 1:55 this morning?
In dreamland

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Reading blogs,checking mails,updationg my blog,eating vadai,drinking coffee

4. What is something that happened to you in 1990?
I was in standard 2...

5. What is the last thing you said aloud?
It's ok,ive bought food 4 lunch(2 vadai)

6. How many different things did you drink today?
Water,nescafe and coffee

7. What color is your hairbrush?
I hardly use a comb or hairbrush.just my fingers.

8. What was the last thing you bought?Chocs and Ballentines from langkawi

9. Who was the last person you kissed?

10. What color is your front door?

11. Where do you keep your change?
In my wallet

12. What's the weather like today?
Kinda sunny

13. What is the best ice cream flavor?
Any baskin robbins wil do

14. What is something you are excited about?
Continuing my studies

15. When was the last rainbow you saw?
Long time ago

16. What size shoe do you wear?

19. Do you want to cut your hair?
When my hair is long and 'shapeless'

21. Do you talk a lot?
Of coz!

22.Does your screen name have an "x"in it?
X as in the alphabet X? then no la.But if X factor mayb yes.lolx

24. Do you know anyone named Steven?

26. Are you ticklish?

27. Are you typically a jealous person?
Not really

28. Name someone whose name starts with the letter "I"

29. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter "M"

30. Who's the 1st person on your received calls list?

31. What did the last text message you received say?
Miss Jee,mkn dy?(from my student)

32. Do you chew on your straws?
Yup,all the time

33. Do you have curly hair?

34. What is the next concert you're going to?

35. Whats your favorite color(s)?

37. What is something you say a lot today?
Never had lot to say yet...lolx

38. What is the last thing you ate?

39. Have you seen the movie "Donnie Darko"?

40. Do you have work tomorrow?
of coz

41. Is marriage in your future?

42. When was the last time you said "I love you."?
This morning

43. What should you be doing right now?
Updating my blog...hhehehehe....

44. Do you have a nickname?

45. Are you a heavy sleeper?

46. When was the last time you used a skateboard?

47. What is the best movie you've seen in the past two weeks?
Deepavali is ok ok onli...

51. Did you cry today?

52. Do you like someone right now?
i thought i answered this in the ealier post?

53. Are you currently playing any sports?
nope.too lazy

55. Last time you listened to music?

56. Last time you watched tv?
last night.ugly betty & desperate housewifes

57. Do you miss someone right now?
Bf n family

58. What are you doing at this very moment?
Answering this post

59. Who is the last person you talked on the phone with?

60. Are any of your friends going to fill this out?
Mayb.wil ask them to

Be 100% truthful!

1. When was the last time you washed your hair?
The day before yesterday...later in the evenin...

2. What were you doing at 8am this morning?
In the car to work with darling bf

3. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Reading blogs and looking for tutorials on editing blog design

4. Are you any good at math?
I HATE maths coz im bad at it!

7. Are you mad at anyone right now?

8. Do you know the words to the song on your friendster profile?
Huh?Got song meh?

9. Last thing received in mail?
friendster updates

10. How many different drinks have you had today?
Half a cuppa nescafe ealier and now coffee

11. What was for breafast this morning?
One Puri

12. Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machine?
Never used one or saw one b4.(except in tv lah)

13. Any plans for tonight?
Dinner wit bf as usual,watch tv, zzzz

14. Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
Of coz!!

15. What's the most painful dental procedure you've had?
Years ago when i was in school and the doc had to pull out my extra tooth

16. What's outside your front door?

17. Do you have plans on friday morning?

18. Do you like the ocean?

19. Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different popcorns?
Nope.Got meh?

20. Have you ever been to a planetarium?
Yup,it was a school trip

22. Something you are excited about?
Starting my masters in one month's time

23. Who around you has the most problems?
no one

24. Are any of your great-grandparents still alive?
Yup.My great grandmother(mom's grandma).She is almost 100 yrs old.

25. Describe your love life
Going well....:)

27. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
A few weeks ago in front of my students

28. Do you like anyone right now?
It has alwiz been HIM...:)

29. What was the weather like on your birthday?
Beau weather...:)

30. Do you sleep with the door open or closed at night?
Of coz la closed!

31. If you could change your name, what would it be?
Cant think of one right now.

32. Do you like your middle name?
Front,middle,back all in one...:P

33. Who are you thinking about right now?
No one

34. Do you consider your best friends family?
Mayb.Is my bf family?lolx....

35. Favorite food?
Choc,chic rice,sardine cutlet curry,.....

36. Who's reading this post right now?
My blog friends

A Thought on Mothers

"I think the hardest thing for a mother is to make it possible for a child to be independent and at the same time let the child know how much you love her, how much you want to take care of her, and yet how truly essential it is for her to fly on her own."
— Madeleine Albright

Real notices

Real notices spotted around the world and written by...well, "people whose first language is not English".
1. In a Tokyo Hotel: Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a person to do such a thing is please not to read notis.
2. In a hotel in Athens: Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 A.M. daily.
3. In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from Russian Orthodox monastery: You are welcome to visit the cemetary where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.
4. Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop: Ladies may have a fit upstairs.
5. In a Rhodes tailor shop: Order your summers suit. Because is big rush we will execute customers in strict rotation.
6. In a Budapest zoo: Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty.
7. A sign in a Paris hotel: "Please leave your values at the front desk"
8. On the door of a Moscow hotel room: "If this is your first visit to the USSR, you are welcome to it"
9. Instructions in a Belgrade elevator: "To more the cabin, push button for wishing floor. If the cabin should enter more persons, each one should press a number of wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by national order."
10. A sign in a Norwegian cocktail lounge: "Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar"
11. A sign in a Bucharest hotel lobby: "The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable."
12. From an advertisement by a dentist in Hong Kong: "Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists"
13. How a sewage treatment plant was marked on a Tokyo map: "Dirty Water Punishment Place"
14. Sign in a Leipzig elevator: "Do not enter lift backwards, and only when lit up"
15. Sign in an Austrian hotel catering to skiers: "Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension."
16. Sign in a Czechoslovakian tourist agency: "Take one of our horse driven city tours - we guarantee no miscarriages."
17. From the instructions on a Japanese hotel air conditioner: "Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your room, please control yourself."
18. Sign in a Copenhagen airline ticket office: "We take your bags and send them in all directions"
19. From the menu of a Swiss restaurant: "Our wines leave you nothing to hope for"
20. From a tourist brochure: "In the close village you can buy jolly memorials for when you pass away."
21. Two signs in a Majorcan shops: "Here speeching American" and “English well talking.”
22. Sign in a Hong Kong supermarket: "For your convenience, we recommend courteous, efficient self-service."
23. From a story in an East African newspaper: "A new swimming pool is rapidly taking shape since the contractors have thrown in the bulk of their workers."
24. Sign in a Vienna hotel: "In case of fire, do your utmost to alarm the hotel porter.
25. Detour sign in Japan: "Stop. Drive sideways."
26. Sign at a Swiss inn: "Special Today - no ice cream"
27. Instructions on a Japanese medicine bottle: "Adults: 1 tablet 3 times a day until passing away"
28. In a Tokyo shop: Our nylons cost more than common, but you'll find they are best in the long run.

Joke 2

These are actual excuse notes from parents(including original spelling) collected by Nisheeth Parekh, University Texas Medical Branch at Galveston...

Please excuse Gloria from Jim today. She is administrating.
Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.
Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.
Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had (diahre)(dyrea)(direathe) the shits. [words were crossed out in the)'s].
Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.
My son is under a doctor's care and should not take P.E. today. Please execute him.
Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot.
John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.
I kept Billie home because she had to go Christmas shopping because I don't know what size she wear.
My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the Marines.
Please excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.
Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.
Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover.
Please excuse Burma, she has been sick and under the doctor.
Maryann was absent December 11-16, because she had a fever, sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister was also sick, fever and sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn't the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.
Dear School: Please ekscuse John being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30,31,32, and also 33.
Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He washurt in the growing part.
Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea and his boots leak.
Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father's fault.
Sally won't be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral.
Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday.

Joke 1

FBI agents conducted a raid of a psychiatric hospital in San Diego that was under investigation for medical insurance fraud. After hours of reviewing thousands of medical records, the dozens of agents had worked up quite an appetite. The FBI was taping all conversations at the hospital, and this conversation took place when the agent in charge called a nearby pizza delivery service to order.
Agent: Hello. I would like to order 19 large pizzas and 67 cans of soda.
Pizza Man: And where would you like them delivered?
Agent: We're over at the psychiatric hospital.
Pizza Man: The psychiatric hospital?
Agent: That's right. I'm an FBI agent.
Pizza Man: You're an FBI agent?
Agent: That's correct. Just about everybody here is.
Pizza Man: And you're at the psychiatric hospital? Agent: That's correct. And make sure you don't go through the front doors. We have them locked. You will have to go around to the back to the service entrance to deliver the pizzas.
Pizza Man: And you say you're all FBI agents?
Agent: That's right. How soon can you have them here?
Pizza Man: And everyone at the psychiatric hospital is an FBI agent?
Agent: That's right. We've been here all day and we're starving.
Pizza Man: How are you going to pay for all of this?
Agent: I have my checkbook right here.
Pizza Man: And you're all FBI agents?
Agent: That's right. Everyone here is an FBI agent. Can you remember to bring the pizzas and sodas to the service entrance in the rear? We have the front doors locked.
Pizza Man: I don't think so. Click.

Probably the most pointless sign in the world

This road sign near Dodwalls in Cornwall claims to ease traffic by being closed, although, it does not seem to be doing the trick.

Hand written car plate number

Spotted this car with a 'marker pen written plate number' near bukit Bintang a couple of weeks ago....

Funny sign at restaurant......


I believe in...

I believe in...

I believe in Aliens, ufos, ghost...
I believe in Karma
I believe in Faith
I believe in true friendship
I believe in doing things fast
I believe in LOVE
I believe in romance
I believe in being loyal and true
I believe that the world will end one day
I believe in dreams
I believe in imagination
I believe in being honest
I believe in sacrificing
I believe in in self dignity
I believe in ME!

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Hello, where are your manners?


THE hand-phone is one of the most important inventions of the last century, making instant communication possible at any time and almost anywhere in the world.
Unlike the fixed line, it is mobile and convenient. It is pocket-sized, light and sleek, and comes with multiple functions and in very attractive colours.
You can dial a number anywhere in the world and get connected directly with people without the hassle of going through an operator who may not speak your language.
But the flip side is the emergence of some hand-phone users who are less than considerate and keep yakking loudly in public places, anywhere they like.
You find them chatting on the phone during a meeting, inside a lift, toilet, bus, restaurant and even the theatre and cinema.
They spoil the atmosphere and become a nuisance to the people around them. It is annoying when you are forced to listen to conversation that you are least interested in.
I also find it extremely annoying - even insulting - when people sharing a meal with you are more interested in taking a long time talking on the hand-phone than sharing your company.
That leads me to a recent advertisement by a telecommunications company to promote its services during the Chinese New Year.
It works on the tradition of the reunion dinner held on new year's eve in order to promote its special services called the “longevity calls”.
Thus, you see family members partaking in what looks like a reunion dinner but instead of enjoying the meal and fellowship, all of them are busy yakking away on the hand-phones.
With a pair of chopsticks poised over a spread of sumptuous dishes on the table and their heads bending sideways to talk into the hand-phones resting on their shoulders in unison, the scenario looks decidedly comical, even ridiculous.
What kind of image does it project? Do the Chinese partake in the reunion dinner in this way? Is yakking on the phone more important than the most meaningful meal of the year for all members of the family?
Where is the new year spirit? Where is the tradition? Where are the grandparents, the parents and the children who are supposed to share the reunion dinner and to catch up with one another at the gathering?
Many may argue that the advertisement is simply a clever and funny gimmick to draw attention and get the sales message across.
Others, especially those who stick to tradition, would find it upsetting.
It is indeed a clever attempt at capturing the occasion and giving it a twist to sell the company's services and get people talking but it certainly leaves a bad taste to people who value culture and traditions because of the wrong focus.
It may not be guilty of cultural subversion but it trivialises a long-cherished tradition.
And above all, where are the table manners?

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Don't Mess With Old Ladies

An older lady gets pulled over for speeding...
Older Woman: Is there a problem, Officer?
Officer: Ma'am, you were speeding.
Older Woman: Oh, I see.
Officer: Can I see your license please?
Older Woman: I'd give it to you but I don't have one.
Officer: Don't have one?
Older Woman: Lost it, 4 years ago for drunk driving.
Officer: I see...Can I see your vehicle registration papers please.
Older Woman:I can't do that.
Officer:Why not?
Older Woman:I stole this car.
Officer:Stole it?
Older Woman:Yes, and I killed and hacked up the owner.
Officer:You what?
Older Woman:His body parts are in plastic bags in the trunk if you want to see
The Officer looks at the woman and slowly backs away to his car and calls for
back up. Within minutes 5 police cars circle the car. A senior officer slowly
approaches the car, clasping his half drawn gun.
Officer 2:Ma'am, could you step out of your vehicle please! The woman steps out of her vehicle.
Older woman:Is there a problem sir?
Officer 2:One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car and murdered
the owner.
Older Woman:Murdered the owner?
Officer 2:Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please.
The woman opens the trunk, revealing nothing but an empty trunk.
Officer 2:Is this your car, ma'am?
Older Woman:Yes, here are the registration papers. The officer is quite
Officer 2:One of my officers claims that you do not have a driving license.
The woman digs into her handbag and pulls out a clutch purse and hands it to
the officer. The officer examines the license. He looks quite puzzled.
Officer 2:Thank you ma'am, one of my officers told me you didn't have a
license, that you stole this car, and that you murdered and hacked up the owner. Older Woman: Bet the liar told you I was speeding,too.

Men are better friends!

A wife was not at home for a whole night. So, the very next morning, she
tells her husband that she stayed at her girlfriend's apartment over night.
The husband calls 10 of her best girlfriend's and none of them confirm that.

A husband was not at home for a whole night. So he tells his wife the very
next morning, that he stayed at his friend's apartment over night. So the
wife calls 10 of his best friends: 5 of them confirm that he stayed at their
apartments that night, and the other 5 are claiming that he still is there
with them!

Thursday, January 11, 2007

I Miss You Mayang!!!

Tis post is inspired by Su who wrote in her own blog bout missing Mayang.

Today is 11th Jan 2007.My last in Limkokwing, Pj campus was on 22nd Dec 06.Actually my last day was supposed to be on 4th Jan 2007 but i took my annual leave.

Its been almost 3 weeks since i stepped out of Mayang,seen my old colleagues.The 'Miss Mayang' bug does occasionally infect my brain once in a while.I look back at the hundreds of photos bringing back sweet memories and smile.

There's loads of things that i miss at Mayang:
1.breakfast with my colleagues in the pantry or at IH resource room.
2.morning stand up meetings
3.surfing the net the whole day(i can do the same at my ne place as im given my own pc)
4.ta pau(packing)lunch wit su and yang
5.vege food,indian aunty's food and the malay food.all so cheap!
6.havin my bf send me to work in sum mornings.
7.havin breakfast wit my bf at bombays.
8.havin breakfast sumtimes wit my colleagues at bombays.
9.havin breakfast wit su at the roti canai shop on saturdays.
10.having breakfast wit my bf at tmn megah on sum saturdays.
11.yakking away wit my colleagues.
12.the marketing trip to pahang.
13.Goin back home wit Su to have tea at Nagas.
14.The So Looonnnggg lunch break on Fridays!(12-3)
15.Havin lunch at Amcorp Mall on Fridays.
16.wonderful events such as mysterious nite and deeparaya with the students.
17.my students!!!!!!

theres are things that i dun like to but lts not go into there....:P

anyways,like Su said,i too have no regrets....

Mayang was one of its kind.I will alwiz cherish the memories.

Farewell Mayang.....