Sugar

For the millionth time, he checked out his watch. Late. He took out a cigarette and idly wondered if he should light it up. His head played the scene of when someone had had the nerve to update him about her, only to have his annoyance trickled down to a pity finding out that she had cancer. He sighed and put the cigarette back into its box. God damn cancer, he thought.

More people were coming in the cafe and still the person he was waiting for have not yet to show. A waitress, with an obviously intended low neckline, sauntered towards him with his tea, gave him a little but enough distraction from the raising noise of the cafe's patrons. She pushed the sachets or condiments or whatever the hell it is called towards him and walked away. He scoffed looking at the brown sugar and white sugar sachets.

He remembered back when they were together. She was never a romantic, and that was the problem. Her nos were quick but her yeses were too long to be waited. He teased her about it, only to have her rolling her eyes and calling him a girl. He had had enough one time, telling her that he better of dating a plywood, which was equivalent of her body. He remembered how she looked when he told her that. The next day, after class, she handed him sugar sachets with scrawling she called her hand writing saying "You're my white sugar" and the other "I'm your brown sugar" obviously implying the total difference of their skin pigments. He laughed and they kissed.

But those were the days, and at the current moment, the other bloody sachets were staring up to him and pushing those currently, irrelevant, not - important, why-the-hell-do-I-remember-all-these fucked-up memories to his head. He sighed, took out his phone and punched out what can be considered as a greeting.

His girlfriend came in, rushed towards him and profusely apologised. He shrugged and they continued their day in what the writer can only describe, probably annoyingly sweet. Somewhere in the middle of the date, when the girlfriend was in a dressing room, he checked his phone and found a reply. He checked again for the coast to be cleared and read the message. "Fuck off you bloody cheater"

He chuckled. Well, who says cancer changes anyone. 

That one phone call.

Kau senang-senang nak mengalah.
Melampau, macam dapat barah.
Malas aku nak cakap suruh pasrah.
Dah, dah.
Lap mata kau yang basah.
Berhenti menangis, serious takde sapa pun kisah.
Macam nenek cakap, jantan dekat luar banyak bersepah.
Sekarang kau tukar langkah.
Diri tegak, jalan megah.
Dah, dah.
Nanti balik, Putrajaya kau singgah.
Kita beli ice cream lepas tu berkelah.
Sudah.
Aku kata sudah.
Sinilah, biar aku tampar dia sampai merah.
Ke nak aku buat sampai berdarah?
Ha kan, dah ketawa dekah-dekah.

Ok malas nak rhyme dah.

That was the plan.

You were supposed to wear the customed dark grey with micro white stripes suit, a white shirt with a navy tie. Your shoes would shine and your socks matched. Your hair was to be swept back and you would wear the copper watch I gave you.

I was supposed to be wearing a navy kebaya made out of real songket with a nude colour Mary Jane's. My hair was to be pulled into a french bun with a braid on one side. I was to wear the copper watch you gave me.

Then we would celebrate our sixth year, with our scrolls in our hands.

That was the plan.

And now, here I am looking at gold French Lace and ruby red lining still undecided whether to make a kebaya or baju kurung. I still am going to have my hair pulled into a french bun and wear my nude colour Mary Jane's. I already tossed away the copper watch you gave me.

I plan to avoid you.

Mrs. Lynn McNugget.

A-tisket, A- tasket.
A black and gold casket.
"So long you old Ferret!"
cried old Mrs Lynn McNugget.

He won't eat his omelet,
now he plays with the maggots.
All the while she fidgets,
and fiddles with her secret.

His death was made private,
and everything in his wallet,
not forgetting all the karat,
to get herself a Parrot.

How I ruined The Dark Knight Rises

***contain spoilers***

When I first got my car, I was in the mood to decorate it so it wouldn't be that crappy. So I took my Justice League mini dolls and place them on the dashboard. I was stupid, poor Green Lantern almost became a blob with the heat we faced in UUM.

The arrangement of the dolls often changed. My friends, depends who have the sticky hand, would always put Superman or the Martian Manhunter upfront of the V formation. For me, it was always Batman. So as you might as guess, I could not wait for what Mr Nolan had installed  for the trilogy.

I was excited. Bouncing up and down in line for the tickets. Rambled on and on how I cannot wait till midnight so we can watch the movie, while my sister rolled her eyes. Took pictures of the tickets, whatsapp-ed it to Min with a lot of smiley faces and she in turn rolled her eyes too. Then comes midnight, I marched into the cinema with this big fat grin even though I was denied of my popcorn! So yeah, ecstatic.

So this movie, that was probably gonna be the only highlight in this God awful months of unemployment ends up meh. Why? Because I predicted too much.

There was a scene where Alfred said how much he wanted to look up and see Wayne and other half happy, and I said to myself that is gonna be ending scene. Guess what, it was!

Even when Miranda came up in the picture, getting it on with Wayne, I predicted that she was bad news, probably link to Bane. And she was! All the time when they trying to figure out who ratted them out, I was pointing to her.

That climb Bruce Wayne had to take to get out of the prison, I whispered to my sleeping brother that he had to not use the rope to get out. And yep, I was right.

When Batman was in the flying contraption, and he said no auto-pilot, I said bullshit. He's Batman.

The dudes in twitter intentionally tweeted to me that Batman gonna die. Even when they showed Bruce Wayne's grave and a crying Alfred, I still said bullshit. He's Batman.

And there's more....... but I'm lazy to elaborate. As far as the script and the plot goes, it is gonna be a long discussion. But in my own unimportant, not worthy to be quoted opinion, I was more giggly with Batman Begins.

Anyway, by the end of the movie, since I practically got to predict almost half of the scenes, it didn't have enough fizzle to get me grinning. I got out of the cinema saying well, it was good and hoping Joseph Gordon-Levitt got his own franchise or maybe like the rumors circling around, Nightwing. But the other patrons were smiling and commenting how they never would've guessed, their mind blown, it was the most awesome movie of the year so far, hailing Mr Nolan as their King, yada yada yada. Oh how I envy them.

Here is a secret.

Secrets. Some of them are cute as hell, like that kid telling his dad the supposed secret of how to eat Oreo so in turn he could have a little (or a lot - depends on your definition) sugar in him. Or that friend who would ask for sleepover parties on the pretense to accompany you on a thunderous night but secretly want to have more eye candy time and go googly eyes over your next door neighbor. Well those are somewhat cute. Then there are the "I'll honestly kill you if you  tell anyone" secrets. Dead pan expression included. Try avoid this one at all cost.

But sometimes, due to your bad feng shui, you found yourself in a situation where you are obligated to keep a secret. You may want to take no part of it, but it just presented itself to you then proceed to chain itself to your neck and swallow the key. Try as hard as you would but you can't pull yourself together enough to shove your arm down its throat to retrieve the bloody key. You can't get away and you're now stuck with it forever, unless you decided to yip. You yipped, and boom! That chain is yanked and you're now nothing but a decapitated head.

That may seem a little excessive, but the burden of holding on to your own secret is already crushing your bone and having to keep another person's secret can leave you in a state that I can only describe as the following: choking on a twinkie and the only person in the room is rocking out to "Call Me Maybe" oblivious to your situation.

So I decided to tell it all. The secrets I'm bearing. I wrote it down in a long list, slip it in one of the romance novel over on the National Library. I hope she (or the off chance it could be a he) find delights of the scandals I kept for people.

fin.

Coffee and Donuts

Now I don't know how this is true but I had been told that I sabotage everything that could be good for me, and that was coming out from a Psychology Major. The only reaction it got from me was a quirked eyebrow and a nervous "yeah, no."

That apparently did not satisfy the said Psychology Major, who was passionate enough to use every schematic knowledge she had acquired after years of hard studying to experiment on me. Big mistake I might add.

She sat me down, got me a cup of coffee and donuts and told me "Come on, amuse me a bit. Let me figure you out,"  I'm all for people to figure me out so I figured why the hell not. I should have warn her the effects of coffee on me, especially when donuts are in the equation, but I'm a firm believer of experience is the best teacher.

She asked me lots of questions which was textbook Psychology. I swear if she had a mustache, she'll rub it while she thoughtfully consider my answers. When she asked me about my dreams, I amused her with details that gets her red and flushed. I mean she was asking for it.

By then, the sugar was high enough for me to ramble mundane details of life. It was fun, coz it was all about me, me, me for once. But curses! the giggling started and my jigged was up. She sighed and asked, if I do this a lot. I smiled and told her that there is nothing to figure out.

Towards the last sip of my coffee, after we abandoned the whole let me experiment on you session I told her what I gathered. She has a bit of wiggling her pinky when picking up the coffee mug, she scrunched up her nose before biting her donuts and that she fiddle way too much with her necklace. Yes Min, I love you too :) hehe

Assumptions.

Once, a smart ass once told me that when you assume, you're making an ass out of you and me. And like all smart ass, he got that from tumblr. Seriously, he reblogged it on his page. Anyway, the point is that, assumptions are stupid and you're making yourself look like an asshole with your mouth yapping crap. Huh, that's an image for you.

If you want to know something, just ask.

Yes, it was just a stupid post.

I'm surprised you guys still read this crap, after many times I quit.

The thing about Jack.

It is 4:58 a.m. so I don't know why I am writing this either.

Jack.

I can't remember how we started. He was that cool dude with that afro and penguin waddle. Overtime, we talked and found out mutual things which grow into this funny dynamic. He was one of the "forbidden" ones as my ex would call it because of the way we interact - frankly it was because he can never understand our conversation. Actually Jill had that problem too, so whatever.

We are not that close though, it's not like a BFF sort of thing. But looking back,  Jack had been there every time I cried in public and was the guy that came over when I was sick and alone. If I list everything he did for me, it would be endless. Heck, I just realised this. The stupid telepathic conversation, the overthrowing of Jill's veto and saving up each other secrets.

But one thing I will never forget is that when he picked me up at the bus station, and like any self proclaimed big brother, took me out for dinner. When we arrived there, lo and behold, everyone's favourite douche was there with his new muse. Being a good big brother, he stepped on the pedal and told me not to look.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, sometimes we forgot those people around us and the stuff they did for us. Be it favors, the subtle you'll-be-ok comments or giving you a not so subtle slap when you just don't know when to quit. The stuff Jack did suddenly matters now. So I guess a thank you is needed.

Tick Tock goes the cranky clock.

Time is running out and like all scaredy cats, the moment we realized that we all ran towards God, presumably with our tail between our legs. It had been one heck of a year, in which a friend called it "the year Ira gone bonkers". Oh wait, it is actually a year today!

Anyway, so what now? Take it in strides? Stroll my way? Or how bout a light jog? 

Meh.
 
Might as well do it like Lance Amstrong.