June 2009

Posted on 5 June 2009:


Baby-making is HARD, hard, hard work! More difficult than Biology and Chemistry. Call me crazy but I’m beginning to think that I may be destined to live my life as a mommy to Odee only. Fine, that’s probably overreacting and exagerrating as we’ve only been trying for over 6 months. If a doctor were to see this, he/she will probably knock me on my head in utter disbelief.

My expectations were high, I supposed that once we started trying, a baby will just pop, like baking a pre-mixed cake. My mom made it seem so easy peasy – 5 Do Re Mi Fa So kids almost every year! This whole baby works makes me wonder, how did the teenagers do it so casually and yet, get knocked up out of their will? How did some women just fall pregnant that easily, sometimes not even planned? Why are people dumping their babies?  How did my mom have so many of us, just like a chicken laying eggs? Suddenly, pregnant ladies seem more prominent to my eyes…they’re practically everywhere! No no no, I’m definitely not being bitter or jealous, just pure curiosity on why reproduction works differently for everyone.

Being a typical and painful perfectionist, I’ve launched an attack on nailing a foetus in my womb for the past few months – all of which have yet to be proven and certified effective:

Please do not try this at home without proper consultation from experts

  1. Keep track of my menses and ovulation diligently every month(www.mycycle.com)
  2. Keep track of my basal temperature every morning (tips courtesy of my hairdresser, Mimi)
  3. Take the super pricey Bak Foong pills every week, thanks to Evie for helping and accompanying me to buy
  4. Take more fertility-inducing supplements (courtesy of my mom)
  5. Visit a temple in Melaka and pray for a child (tips courtesy of Fabian and my aunt)
  6. Try Slippery Stuff (tips courtesy of Marie)
  7. Force this supposedly fertility-inducing, yucky soup down my throat: Double-boiled kampung chicken stock mixed with fresh, concentrated ginger extract and XO brandy (cooking lesson & recipe courtesy of next-door aunty)
  8. Go for a sexcapade sweet-sweet holiday, which cost us a bomb and bore no seeds, let alone fruits!
  9. More other raunchy personal tips, courtesy of friends here and there 

The latest method #10, courtesy of Thera’s contact, involves consulting a Chinese tabib. The bill came up to over RM300, including a week’s medicine and one-time treatment. Follow-ups are required, which means our life savings will be gone before we know it, all courtesy of a soon-to-be screaming, crying, attention-seeking, poop-making baby just like this one: 

I’m definitely game for more tips and trials as this adventure is teaching me lots about my health and the genuine bees & birds.

Or maybe I should just hop on the next flight to Vietnam…to adopt a child, just like Angelina Jolie…


Posted on 9 June 2009:


Very often I found myself forgetting about the events of my past years’ birthday. Age is catching up, my memory has gone from bad to worst. To be honest, I can’t remember what Hunny did for me last year. The memory wass vague…it was something along the lines of doughnuts from my colleagues, lunch at Avanti, weekend getaway at One World Hotel and ahh, Hunny bought me a sunglasses weeks after my birthday. That’s why I’m adamant about jotting down the highlights of this year’s birthday in my blog, just so I can read it in years to come and be reminded that yes, I’m loved and appreciated and my hubby isn’t that blur after all.

Ever since I met my hubby, he has always been a very straight-forward, clueless-unless-told person. Displaying affection rings no bell in his dictionary. He’s not the kind of man who will think of creative ways to make a day really special. So when he bought me a bag which I chose during our vacation in US recently and thought that my birthday celebration is settled, I was furious. “Barely 2 years of marriage and that’s how I’ll be appreciated on my birthdays?!” I asked. I wanted my favourite cake and a romantic dinner, at least.  


Gladly, on my birthday at 12am sharp, when I was fast asleep already, he came into the room with my favourite cake, singing “Happy Birthday” song with Odee rushing in from behind. The next morning, I woke up to find a balloon and a birthday card at my dressing table. My toothbrush had toothpaste squeezed on it already. We had my birthday cake for breakfast and he gave me a goodbye kiss before heading for work. As I stepped into my car, I saw a little handwritten note from him on my dashboard, wishing me Happy Birthday again. I didn’t know there are more surprises until I opened my wallet later that day to find 2 little notes stating: “This is a green version of a birthday card” and “This note entitles my wife for a spa session of her choice, under the expense of her hubby. Please accord VIP service to my wife”. We went to Alexis @ Telawi for dinner that night.


My colleagues didn’t miss out the celebration. We were supposed to have a surprise birthday lunch a day before my actual birthday, but things changed when I informed of my existing appointment. On 28th May, Evie and I went out for lunch (arranged way before). She was acting weird that day, giving me 3 choices of restaurants to go to and ordering so much food for both of us. I didn’t know she was aware of my birthday. Then, the monkey Michelle appeared out of nowhere with a slice of birthday cake from Secret Recipe in tow. It was all pre-planned obviously. The lunch was really wholesome. Later at 5pm, we gathered for the customary little birthday celebration. We had mini cupcakes with my name on it, formed out of pink Rocky sticks. I unwrapped the presents given by Michelle and Rekha. The first was a box purportedly meant to be a DIY baby-making kit, comprising two kinky G-strings, a Vaseline jar, a toy hammer with clattering sound when knocked and a bunny ears hairband. We all had a good laugh. Rekha gave me a Tommy Hilfiger’s Dreaming fragrance, along with a body lotion.

It has been a while since I had such memorable birthday.



Posted on 9 June 2009:


Read at your own risk, faint-hearted please stay clear. To protect the privacy of those who are superstitious, the word ‘die’ or ‘death’ is respectfully known as ‘kiok’ in this post.

Don’t worry, I’m neither suicidal nor terminally ill. The recent memorial service of my mother-in-law’s 1st anniversary awakens my mind and makes me ponder, how do I want my wake/funeral to be, if I were to pass on before my time? Yes yes yes, I’m only 28, still young and such, but it’s always good to be prepared.

Not trying to curse myself here either; life and death are unquantifiable abstracts and part and parcel of nature’s course, which we often don’t have control over. This may sound eerie and pantang to some but death shouldn’t be a taboo topic because only when we start acknowledging it can we embrace life wholeheartedly – which I’m trying to, besides being grumpy, naggy and full of complaints on certain occasions. Ignorance is definitely not blissful in this matter.

 And so, here’s my kiok wish list:

  • Cause – If I could choose, I would like to kiok in my sleep, peacefully – just like Sleeping Beauty
  • Leftovers – Since I’m a registered organ donor, please distribute every reusable organ to those in need, although I’ll seriously pity those who are getting my tiny heart and ‘kookoo’ brain.
  • Appearance – No thick powder or awfully red lipstick to be put on by the inexperienced undertaker who is most likely unaware of the difference between day look and evening look. In fact, no make-up at all, please. I am perfectly comfortable with my natural looks. OK, maybe just a little bit of blush and lip tint from Benefit’s Posie Tint.
  • Outfit – I want to wear my favourite dress so if I were to bump into Heath Ledger, I would still look stunning or if I were to meet my grandpas, grandma, mother-in-law, dog Wawa and friend Connie, at least I would be properly attired and not beyond recognition.
  • Ceremony – No ‘sai kong’ or noisy, eerie musical instrument please. I would like to be respected in the true Buddhist rites – no serving of meat and fancy meals, burning of paper houses/dolls/cars etc., just fruits, serene chanting amidst a simple setting, where my life is remembered and celebrated.
  • Termination – Cremation and then, keep my ashes in a pretty, country-style looking urn, decorated with tints of white and pale purple. The exact wordings should be “In Loving Memory and Celebration of ….”. Please don’t throw my ashes into the sea; I can’t swim that well. I’m scared of sharks too.
  • Final Resting Place – I don’t know where my urn should be placed, but perhaps a serene place like temple or home. I will try not to won’t haunt, no I promise.
  • My Favourite Things – Steve should be given to Odee and vice versa. He can only remarry if the potential wife is less young, less pretty and less smart than me. Same goes to my parents. My Dad will go to my Mom and my Mom will go to my Dad. Under no circumstances should this be changed. My squad of fish and aquarium goes to my Godfather, who’s really capable of taking care of fish. As for my money, car and property which aren’t much, they should be divided among Steve, Odee, my parents, father-in-law, Sa Ee as well as my nephews’ and nieces’ education fund. My smelly Pooh bear goes to my eldest sister and bicycle to my younger brother so that he can stop harassing my parents for a new car. My nice and fancy clothes can go to my good buddies, if they fit. Pelf gets the dirty honour to continue my blog. To my other siblings/relatives and friends, so sorry you don’t get anything because you have a sister/relative/friend with no money, full of junks but lots of love to give.

 I didn’t know how little I own until I write this down; my belongings only come to 10 lines of sentences! How sad…

Now that all’s laid out clearly, I’m ready to go all out and live life to the max…go to the places I’ve always wanted to go, eat whatever I fancy, give lots of love and be loved in return. Sweet!


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