As Suanie Sees It

Since it’s lunch time, allow me to share with you one of my favourite lunch items, a Subway sandwich.

My favourite pick is the Subway club sandwich — parmesan + oregano bread, turkey ham, turkey breast, roast beef, vege semua taruh (except for olives and pickles. I hate olives and pickles), mustard + mayonnaise + thousand island sauce = happy Suanie!

It’s not cheap so I can’t have it everyday. But on the days when I can afford it, those are days of bliss and utmost happiness and second to none!

And yes, I can wallop the entire foot long sandwich by myself. Go me. I heart Subway.

Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I thought of phone numbers. Thinking back, the sequence of my thoughts must seem rather random: ghost in white, flowers, ghost in white carrying flowers, furry polar bears, ghost in white calling 1800-FLOWERS…

Growing up watching American TV, I always wondered how the heck anyone calls a phone number containing alphabets. Take for example, 1800-FLOWERS. First thought: okay 1800 I understand… but FLOWERS?! How do you dial letters?!

Oh, ABC = 2, DEF = 3 etc. So, F… do I dial ‘3′ thrice? Then followed by ‘5′x3, ‘6′x3 etc? Does 1800-FLOWERS = 1800-333 555 666 9 33 777 7777? What kind of stupid phone numbering system is that? Is there even such a long ass number? Why aren’t they synchronised? Dumb asses…

Then I grew up and learnt the truth*.

*About vanity numbers and who the real dumb ass was.

Admittedly I am (way, way, way, way, way, way) far from being the best looking, or most well-groomed person in the world. The least I could be arsed to do is to appear in society draped in some semblance of clothing. Beyond that, I am part of the I-don’t-really-give-a-shit posse. Trust me, it shows.

However some things still need to be taken care of. That is what separates me from the street bums, and much to my mother’s relief, it is still somewhat important to me that I highlight the distinction (damn you, societal pressure!). Mind you, I don’t like doing them, but they are just one of the inevitable to-dos, rinse and repeat. I’d still like to share with you the 4 personal grooming to-dos that I wish would fuck off and die; these are right on top of my most hated list, and I’ll tell you why.

1. All the hair on top of your head
Throughout history there has been a fascination with hair. References and compliments to what people consider to be beautiful hair have been found in poems, songs, books, movies; basically in all communication forms since the usage of papyrus. Don’t get me wrong — I like my hair (except for the greying bits) and I am very happy that I am not going bald. But I also want my cake and eat it too. You see, hair grooming is one of the most tedious things there is to be done. I think I am at a phase — a stage of my life where I know that I want THIS hairstyle for the next few years or so. Not just that; I want it to be the EXACT length and flow as it was after leaving the hair saloon. Hair growth should be criminal. Do you know how expensive it is for a female to go to a hair dresser who will not do a sloppy job of unprofessionally chopping off your hair? Do you know how irritating it is to have your fringe growing back and becoming a nuisance by lingering at your forehead? Fuck you fringe, go back up 1.5 inches where you belong and stay the fuck there. There should be a super duper remote control that dictates the length and shape of your hair for X amount of time. I for one do not mind paying a small fortune for that. It would save me so much trouble, money and emotions. I have other stuff to get emo about. Hair should not be one of them.

2. Those pesky, unnecessary underarm hair
I hate underarm hair, mostly because I live in a country where the weather is hot and humid all year long. Sure, I can spend money on deodorants (which I do, so stfu), but that does not stop the fucking underarm hair from growing, does it? Even French women are shaving these days. Which brings me to another rant; why the fuck is underarm hair considered hideous and unsightly on women, yet men proudly go around shirtless and hairy? All those females picketing for gender equality should first leave their armpit hair unshaved and untampered before preaching their usual sermons. If you can’t do that, then you have no right to yadda yadda about gender inequality, because gender IS unequal. I have no time to debate on fluff such as; when fighting for gender equality, it means work opportunities bla bla bla. Bull. I am right and you know it.

3. Stop growing, you stupid nails!
Nails should be long enough for only two things — washing your hair and digging your nose. I hate trimming my nails. It takes up 15 minutes of my time, and they grow back so fast that you are forced to trim every fortnight or so. That is half an hour every month! Do you know how many 40 winks I could catch in that half an hour? Or various other world domination-related activities I could have accomplished by NOT trimming the damn nails?! If it were up to me, no one should have nails. In lieu of the useless keratin, we would have more flesh instead. Or money. Cold hard cash should grow at the tip of my fingernails. Chronic nail biters and those prone to nail diseases would be so grateful to me. In short, me = great.

4. Would you like that rounded or arched?
Till this day I wonder to whom we have to thank for making eyebrows a grooming statement. It’s eyebrows, for crying out loud — in all purposes of evolution, they are meant to divert sweat and rain from going into your eyes. But nooooooooooooo, some genius just HAS to remove a bit of hair here and there, then proclaim to the world that ‘THIS IS THE PERFECT EYEBROWS, FOLLOW MY LEAD, BITCHES!’. Hmmm. Fuck you. If I knew who the fuck you were, I’d go round your house and execute the bloodiest massacre that would make Don Corleone look like a rookie. If you were already dead, I’d dig up your coffin and set your rotting corpse on fire, extinguish it, repeat x10000. Unfortunately I have absolutely no information at all (lucky you), so I am reduced to scolding a nameless mental image I have on you on the Internet. You fucker, you.

I’m spent.

It’s the beginning of the new year. Not only it means you making a bunch of resolutions you would never keep (in this lifetime, let alone the following 12 months), you would also end up with calendars of all sorts and sizes. You know, those calendars that you would probably never use, let alone remember you have them until your annual spring cleaning the following year. I don’t hate them, but I wish that people would stop giving me yet another calendar because I would invariably bin it when I get home. My N95 is all the calendar that I need. Sorry.

Nevertheless, I came across a calendar this afternoon that I think is too awesome for words, that I must share it with you. Not only does this gesture reflects my generosity and willingness to share, it also perhaps permeates my sense of humour, which some may find too subtle or even non-existence, in which case I am most sorry to tell you that mayhap you are too thick to get anything. Nonetheless in my endless efforts at world domination, at which point when I am High Empress of All Living Beings, you will be wise to laugh at the most un-humorous one-liners I shall bequeath upon my loyal subjects. In the words of lolcatz, lolz.

Noobs. This was the calendar I chanced upon while clearing my office’s mail box:

Front

What a most useful calendar, listing the various emergency lines, phone numbers of assorted government departments (Bank Negara, Bkt Aman, Customs, EPF, Immigration, Income Tax, JPJ), local authorities (DBKL, MPAJ, MPK, MPPJ, MBSA, MPSJ) and utility companies (Alam Flora, Indah Water, SYABAS, Pos Malaysia, Telekom, Tenaga Malaysia).

And at the back…

Back

For when you run out of money to pay your phone bill.

I think it’s damn hilarious Maybe I’m just weird like that Now laugh, damn it!

I saw this ad banner on Technorati last week, and I just had to do a print screen:

I’ve never heard of an un-halal toothpaste (you mean they didn’t slaughter the porker BEFORE adding its juice with fluoride into the paste?!) so for a moment I was wondering why Colgate felt the need to declare their halal-ness. Then I thought that maybe there are some e-mails or SMSes flying around claiming that Colgate toothpaste is not halal. And knowing *some* Malaysians who are quick to believe everything they read or come across…

Oh well. Made me laugh for a bit, so it’s all good.

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Last Wednesday was drinkies at The Ceylon Bar, one of my two or three favourite drinking places. I am in two minds over promoting the place, because I’d be gutted if I were there and could not find a place to seat. Just like what almost happened last Wednesday anyway. Luckily Gervais is not a Malaysian, hence arrived on time, and managed to get us the remaining 2 tables there.

Here’s Mr. Tall canoodling with FA’s wooly sweater, among his other poses. Next time he’ll graduate to giving us the pout.

And he having a heated argument with FA.

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Last Friday, we had a group of people for dinner in conjunction with Dabido’s last night in KL. Since he’s a vegetarian, our dinner was at Jade Garden @ Centrepoint, BU (for selfish reasons on my part), and happily a healthy number of nice people was able to make it. Here’s Dabs with a few of them:

The food was surprisingly tasty. I am sure KY will blog about it later on.

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Also found out that evening that someone stole my money. Bitch.

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The next morning I was supposed to wake up bright and early to attend the AllMalaysia Bloggers Project gathering at 10 a.m. Unfortunately I could only wake up at 9.30 a.m. hence I arrived at Midvalley Gardens at only 10.15 a.m. (or thereabouts). Again, very unfortunately, I had to leave after an hour to make it for my next appointment (I make it sound like I am a very busy person, but actually I am not). But it was lovely meeting old and new friends, including Sammy who made me blush for a bit. We want more gatherings, aye?

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Over the weekend, I was in Seremban with a couple of people. The only camwhoring I did was at this pub at Era Walk, called Trilogy which IMHO was rather superb, a place you would not have expected in Seremban. I am not making fun of those from or living in Seremban, but you see, I come from a small-but-growing town, and we don’t have anything like that back home.

Me with Ringo

Me with KY

Me with Nicholas

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Then came back to KL on Sunday, had a lovely lunch (as blogged by Tim), got home and found out that Mom cooked hong zhao ji with mee suah which I could not eat because my normally bottomless pit for a stomach could not take in another morsel. Grrr…