Travel tips: Grooming

The only thing you're allowed to neglect when you go on a beach holiday in Koh Samui is your internet habit. Other than that, you owe it to yourself and the pictures you will take to take care of yourself.

This sign at Big Buddha temple says, "No matter how big (important) you are in life, you will always be smaller than your coffin."

Suburban deathtrap

The last time she counted, my neighbour had 13 cats. I believe none are spayed/neutered, which means she'll probably wind up with more in the next few months.

Naturally, the range in which they roam overlaps with our conventional human boundaries. This means we have to check under our cars to ensure we don't inadvertently run over a snoozing kitty. We also have to scrutinise sandy patches very carefully before stepping on them, lest we stumble into the litter box of the week.

Currently, our front porch has been claimed by a white and grey cat that spends its afternoons guarding it behind closed eyes. To ensure no intruders sneak up on it, it wedges itself securely into a dustpan in the corner, shielding its face with one paw to protect itself from shrapnel. Or something.

Come evening, it uncoils itself, stretches, and stalks off to capture a hapless feeding bowl.

I suppose it's also understandable that a family of shrews would find the numerous plants in our garden reassuringly tall, and appear with clockwork punctuality every morning to frolic and mock the cats that have to stay indoors.

That said, the areas away from the houses look like a veritable animal kill zone. You can't go 2 weeks without seeing a cat or shrew that has been run over by a motorist. Often, the cats look like someone's pet (can't say the same for the shrews).

I don't have pets, but surely it isn't that much trouble to take your foot off the gas just that little bit, or neuter/spay your pets to reduce the carnage on our roads?

Respite

Last year, Enfant Terrible and I planned a week-long getaway for next week. At the time, the motivation wasn't due to year-end work pressure; rather, the flight was cheap.

As I wind up work for this week, I can't help feeling that a break is an excellent idea, mainly because the following has been occurring with greater frequency lately:

#1
Mum (calling from the market): Eh, wanna buy rib-eye steak ah?
Me: Whatever for... up to you lah, it's not my money anyways, hehe.
Mum: Aiyah, I buy lah; you cook. Heheh.

#2
Bro2: Eh, you going holiday next week issit?
Me: Yeah.
Bro2: Wah, so nice ah holiday... EH, means next week no cooking ah??? WHAT WILL WE EAT?
Me: That is not my fucking problem!

#3
Corporate Client Handler*: Hi, could you edit this [few thousand word] PDF** document?
Me: Apologies, but I'm handling 2 private clients at the moment (ooh, look at you, gurl), so I won't be able to accept anything more this week.
CCH: BUT... There aren't any other editors who can do this T____T

* For want of a better term
** You use annotation software, and it's like working in PhotoShop or GIMP, but with words.

Familiar territory

You start to recognise specific people when you've lived in a neighbourhood as long as I have (about damn time, too). 

In my case, I notice those who are out exercising. There's Brisk-walk guy, who always walks the same route around the same block and who has probably lost 10 kilos since I first saw him. We've gone from eyeing one another suspiciously to exchanging nods, hellos, and, "How many rounds oredi ah?"

Bald guy puts in regular appearances at the park. He gets the required exercise time practically every day but, for some reason, still has a pot belly.

There are the Dog walkers, who carry out their chore looking blank yet po-faced. Civic conscious exhortations notwithstanding, I have never seen these people with trowels or plastic bags (unlike Terry the muscle-bound neighbour).

The person I like seeing best is the Nutter. I was driving home when I saw him for the first time. Lanky, loose-limbed, and looking decidedly Caucasian, he was bounding up the road like a kid released from school. In the driving rain.

Jeremy Wariner in a pose a la Francois (Image: Exposay)

Sticky wickets: Borne of frustration

Writers for whom English is not a first language tend to be more particular about grammar than those from so-called native English-speaking countries (data not shown; statistical analysis pending). This is most apparent when it comes to the tenses used when referencing other authors' work.

Resolutions: Tact

It pays to think before you speak. That way, you won't dole out the following advice:

To a person clearly not having a good time:
Wrong "You wouldn't be so fat if you ran instead of plodding up the hill."
Right "Running up the hill will increase the calories you burn."

To the boyfriend:
Wrong "That jacket makes you look really sexy, like Shane Walsh." (see below)
Right "That jacket makes you look really sexy."

I don't know where this pic is from; I'm just glad it exists.

Living with the Elderly

One evening, Dad makes one of his rare appearances at home from work and finds only his first-born child present and working on a paper.

Dad: Where's Mum?
First-born: Working at school.
Dad: Huh. Where's Bro1?
First-born: Working... downtown. As should you...?
Dad: Huh... Where's Bro2?
First-born: Working.
Dad: Eh?!
First-born: Some beer event thing. Carlsberg or Heineken, I don't remember. One of the green ones.
Dad: OH, that Guinness party issit!

Several counts of fail

#1 If your mother has the habit of buying foodstuff and leaving items half-eaten in the fridge, keep this in mind the next time you look for a braising liquid and go to take a swig of the milk to see if it's still "good".

#2 You have a nose that detects smells. Bad smells usually indicate a food item should not be eaten. A milk carton should never smell like yogurt.

#3 Milk is a liquid. Liquids flow easily. You should not have to jiggle a milk carton to take a swig of the milk inside to see if it's still "good".

Milk gone bad. Found on No Cow Juice, No Problem.

Newbie

This morning, I was plodding past the Indian temple towards the Bukit Kiara hill circuit when someone behind me coughed.

Getting there (I can do the same pose). Source: Xtreme Athletix

Turning, I saw a tall, lean black man (is there any other kind that runs in Malaysia?) in a white t-shirt and orange-striped blacks tights blithely striding up the incline.

Being courteous, I moved aside to let him pass. As he passed, he said, "Good morning!" and I said, Hi!"

Maybe no one's he's spoken to has ever responded in kind, because he turned around and said, "Come, let's jogging!"

Me. Go jogging with orange-striped black tights running man?

ME.

Whose face was almost as bright as my shirt from the exertion of having toddled 1 km?

I nodded and grinned. To my relief, he went back to running and I resumed plodding, but about 5 counts later, my new friend turned back again and gestured for me to keep up.

What could I do but mime desperately catching my breath to the eager soul? He nodded understandingly and loped off easily through the horde that swarmed the hill, and that was the last I saw of the first ever African runner who spoke to me.

Artistic rendering of orange-striped black tights running man. Source as above.

Home renovation survival guide: charity

You unearth a lot of junk during a home makeover. Glass bottles (dunno why we have so many) can be recycled or reused as twee little seedling pots. Surplus crockery will find its way to the homes of newlyweds or anyone setting up a new household.

Unused clothes go to charity, of course, but have a heart for the have-nots. That shirt is destined for the scrap heap, not some children's home if you would rather be dead than be caught in it, or if it feels draftier than the hills of Tibet/smells worse than month-old Gorgonzola cheese sammiches.

Bath work day 3 - I quite like the grinding pattern, but mater will kill me if I suggest we retain it instead of tiling it over.