Judgmental freaks

“Don’t give her money, she’ll only spend it on her toiletries?”

Fancy talk from you, huh. If you didn’t use my products, I wouldn’t have to spend the extra money to buy the extra litres. Don’t get me wrong, use my stuff if you want. I’m always happy to share. Just don’t make snide remarks about how I don’t value money, and then, go on using it because you said I already bought them.

Hello, I’m only refilling them because you use them. I think you even use them more than I do because you don’t know exactly how much they cost. The facial wash you happily squirts on your palm, for example, it costs RM35. And it’s supposed to last me about 6 months or more.

Don’t bitch to me about money just because your money is currently tight. And you have to count every ringgit you spend. Remember when you were my age? You spent your money buying pairs of shoes and clothes and you go on dates regularly. And don’t let me remind you about the phone bills? 75% of them belonged to you. That’s like RM100. And dearest daddy paid for it.

During that time, you get your money through student loans and dad’s weekly allowance. The only money I get is through the allowance. I pinched my money. I’m the most Mr Scrooge person, I know.

I watched MI last weekend, and the last movie before that was that Topher G movie. And it was a morning movie, for goodness sake. And you watched more movies than that.

I’ve been using the same phone for three years. I’ve lost count how many phones you have changed.

At this phase of my life, I want to splurge (as if that is even the right word, I mostly buy discounted items and store-brands) on bath items. Let me be. And that’s all that I buy anyway. I no longer buy clothes or shoes. Or other expensive stuff.

Don’t judge me. Because you’d fare worse than I do.

Suspended Reality

I carry a wedding magazine in my purse everywhere I go now. And it’s only because I’m not getting married anytime soon.

Real life is such a drag lately. I’m graduating next semester but the lethargicness has started already. I have assignments here and there. (I’m actually taking a break from editing a paper, which is something new because I  I’ve never edited any of my papers with such effort before. It is to be submitted in 3 hours. Hmph)

I still have to plain the itinerary for a trip in January. I’m only halfway done. I have yet to ask my dad permission to go to another trip in March. I don’t even know how I’m going to broach the subject. I *may be going for Hajj next year in October. That’s another thing I’m concerned about. I have some issues I have to settle first. But one thing for sure, it’ll be a starting point for me. I pray I’ll settle my issues by then.

I also joined a gym recently. The first week I gained 0.4 kg. My fault for pigging out at the BBQ. Haha. But the second week I lost 1kg. That’s good. So I have to do 30 minutes of cardio everyday. It’s kind of dreary because I’m using stationary machines (elliptical or strider or bikes).  But I have Britney’s 30-min remix to keep me company, so it is not that bad. My knees can’t handle the bike though, I think attempt of 30-Day Shred was too harsh on it. And now my hamstrings are sore, I can barely walk.

Now you can see why I have that bridal magazine with me. It has so many suggestions and complicated menus and sophisticated wedding plans that are impossible to decipher. But it is suspended reality for me, as I no longer go to movies. I immerse myself in that worry, so I don’t have to worry about real life.

Pink bouquet or wild flowers? Wow, it’s the end of the world problem!

Creating Relationships

I had a friend read my palm earlier this year. She told me two things, one of them is that I’m nice. (Or maybe kind. Or are the two words interchangeable? She spoke to me in Malay, and I’m still working on at my grasp of Semantics.) I’ve always known that fact. It’s kind of redundant finding because deep, deep down inside, EVERYONE is nice. Regardless, I took that in stride and bragged that to everyone who listened. (Whether she made those things up is another story.)

I began to list down the nice things I do, to assure myself that I am actually a nice person. (But after a while, I realized making a list also makes me a conceited being.) Among on the list is talking to unfamiliar faces at the usual places I frequent.

Making people feel welcome and at ease is part of being nice. I know that I try to do that whenever there is someone new in class or a new environment, especially if they are alone. Watching them fidget in uncertainty does not sit well with me. I feel like it is a social responsibility, not because I’m friendly. Trust me, I’m not.

Chatty? Yes. Friendly? No way.

Maybe it’s because I have moved three times while growing up. So I understand how it is to not know who will acknowledge your presence when you cast a friendly smile, or merely shrug you off as if you’re smiling to the invisible person behind them. Then you’re left feeling awkward and wish you have the Internet so you can post another ‘Forever Alone’ post on your Tumblr.

So I talk to them, minimal talk consisting of dreary information and dull gossip. Just enough talk to make them feel annoyed by my presence, hence, quickly excuse themselves to mandatorily meet the less weird-looking person on my left. That’s what I do, I take of the jitters and give the boost of “I can do better”.

 But sometimes, on my good days, I will earnestly talk to them. I will make sure their words stick in my brain, instead of going out in another ear. And I will play the part of the lovely girl, and shove the real, quirky (ehem) me down to my knees. It doesn’t happen often, just once in a tedious blue moon.

The point is that I can indeed create new relationships at the back of my hand. But cultivating them is another story. One I will tell when I no longer despise myself for it.

If it is too good to be true, it definitely is.

My mother has been bugging me about my skin. She says she can pick out the blackheads, the dark spots are visible and the bags under my eyes (which I have since forever) are noticeable. Her incessant nagging got to me and I felt that I couldn’t hold it off any longer. So I searched online (Online places that offers coupons) for good deals.

One of them is a popular skin treatment facility. Similar to the above (I suspect they are from a same company), it offered RM10 offer for RM600++ treatment value. Too good to be true, I know.

I’ve used the website before for a spa package and I know that the spa will try their hardest to shove their other products down your throat. I somehow managed to hold on to my stance, thanks to the classic “I have to my daddy first.” But then again, I’m sure the staff didn’t receive any rigorous training from the boss to turn the new customers into repeat customers.

But the skin treatment center I found last night is definitely popular. The marketing team definitely spends a lot of money for advertising. That’s why the RM10 deal is suspicious. So I googled them. I simply wrote their name and to my surprise, on the first page itself was filled with customers’ complaints written in both Malay and English.

The staff were really persistent. They didn’t let you leave the room until you sign up for their package. And that is before you start treatment. They tell you dramatically about your horrible skin condition. If you still insist on “NO!”, they will call others and gang up on you. They tell you there’s a special promotion, 5 for RM2K or 10 for RM3K or stuff. If you’re a student, there’s another package for RM1500+. Some were exasperated, they just signed to be able to leave the place.

One woman complained that her skin worsen after the treatment. She asked the manager and they said “Oh, they gave you the wrong prescription. SIGN UP for this one instead.” WTH!

Apparently many have lodged complaints with the Consumer Rights people, but no actions have yet to be taken. In fact, the marketing team is more active than ever with their RM10 deals. They are sure they can persuade the customers to sign up with them permanently. Well, I sure hope those 400+ people have really thick skin.

I’m telling you, all the harassment should make the consultants be excellent interrogation policewomen.

ETA: Kenapa pelik sangat title ni dulu?

Spam needs its own adjective

I wonder how WordPress decided that the above comment is a spam. Is it because of the author? The link the author provided? Or is simply because of the magniloquent lexical choice. It’s sure funny though. Like the Nigerian prince wrote something in Hausa or Igbo and then he used Google Translate to get the English version. Or, since the official language of Nigeria is already English, that he abused the thesaurus website.

Like I often do.

 

 

 

 

New Facebook

People think Mark Zuckerberg has too much time on his hands. That’s why now we have this ridiculous timeline that no one seems to know how to navigate their way around it.

Personally, I think that he is planning to sell off Facebook. That is the reason he is ruining the site. He is building a new one. A much bigger one that uses the original Facebook content. (You know, minus the ‘top stories’ and ‘updates’ and ‘important updates’, etc.) Then, people will run off to the new one. He’ll be using a pseudonym, of course.

Until then, I’m making a new Facebook account. A new one where only people I like and university people I go with will be added. The old one will still exist. It’s just that I won’t be using them much. I’ve tried to delete redundant ‘friends’ who find it necessary to update their profile every 3 hours, but Facebook won’t let me. So now it is cluttered. I have enough mess in my real life room, I don’t need them online to add misery to my no-need-for-extra-company internet life.

Plus, my aunts are beginning to discuss my Facebook stories in real life. Sheesh.

 

If i were to have a much shorter password, perhaps I’d post more updates. Then, I wouldn’t be incredibly baffled when WordPress changed their layout and it took me several minutes to find an ‘Add New Post’ button.

conscious unreality

About a month ago, Sister 3 sprained her ankle. But her bedroom was in dire need of cleaning. Knowing that no amount of money would ever make me clean it, she smartly bargained the task of sending Brother to school. For a month, she will take on the responsibiliy.

I couldn’t say no to that. That’s an extra half an hour of sleep. It was reallya sweet deal, …if she didn’t cheat me.

While enjoying my after Subuh slumber on one fine morning, Brother frantically woke me up and told me he’d be ready in 10 minutes. I remember mumbling something about Sister 3 was supposed to send him and he said something about a late night. I grumbled some more, then he told me that he’s ready.

I grumpily put on my jubah and threw on a shawl, grabbed my wallet and phone, and kicked things out of my way. When taking the car keys in the kitchen drawer, I (again) kicked a chair and slammed shut the drawer. I shoved the keys into the key slot of the kitchen door, cursing and kicking the cat who was trying to get in while I was trying to get out. While starting the car, I nagged at Brother because I was fuming at Sister 3 for breaking her promise. Groggily I drove while (still) grumbling and nagging at how unfairness she was being. Only after I was halfway, Brother spoke up. I looked at him and snarled “What?!” He mouthed something but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The traffic light was red, so I turned and focused on him. I heard him say “Jom.”

I was confused. Jom where exactly? We were already on our way. He spoke a little louder, “dah lambat ni.” The next thing I know, a clear image shot up upon me. It was blurry one second, then total darkness, then blurry again and then I saw a figure staring at me from the doorway of my bedroom. He repeated, “JOM.”

It turned out that I was actually still on my bed, DREAMING of the whole sequence. I have yet to get up and get the task done. Gaaargh, stupid dream. I was a lot nicer when awake though.

More Humane or More Efficient (for them)

“The religious slaughter of livestock has so far been banned in Luxembourg, New Zealand, Norway, Sweden, and Switzerland.”

Netherlands are trying to ban Halal and Kosher meat. They say it’s inhumane to kill them in these manner, stunning the animals with bolt guns is more appropriate. Killing them by slashing their neck using a sharp blade is apparently torture. They say unless we can provide evidence that our way is more humane, they will ban Halal and Kosher meat.

Plus, Halal and Kosher way also takes into consideration the way the animals were treated and their living condition before they’re slaughtered. Not just how they are supposed to be killed.

Quote dari ontd_political:

notgarystu 2011-06-30 11:46 pm UTC (link) I’m a huge animal welfare person and this is . . . fucking stupid. I would argue that bolt guns are actually worse than the slaughter practices in halal/kosher tradition because bolt guns have been known to take numerous attempts before they’re effective, whereas a clean slice to the throat generally only needs to be made once. Pretty sure an animal that’s being bludgeoned in the head by a bolt gun numerous times is going to be in more pain and far more stressed than an animal that goes unconscious a few seconds after they’ve been cut.But please, let’s hear more about how this ban is ~only for animal welfare~.

Tak jadi nak sambung belajar kat Norway. Cancel plan nak belajar Bokmål masa cuti. 

Heads Up, Don’t Fret.

There is a difference between staying in your comfort zone and knowing your ability.

And despite what everybody is saying, only you, yourself know your  limit.