I Need To Learn

..how to let things go.

I lost my pen yesterday.

I don't think I lost it lost it yesterday, but I realised it was missing yesterday.

I need to learn how to let things go.

When realisation dawned (and it dawned like a hammer crushing my left testicle), it sent me into a chinese tea-charged frenzy.

I turned the whole house upside down.

Looked everywhere. I mean everywhere.

Maybe I left it in the car - shook the whole car down, floormats, even took out the spare tyre (it could've slipped into them small crevices yeah, could've).

Maybe I threw it into my wardrobe - took out every single t-shirt to make sure it wasn't in between any of 'em.

Maybe lovely huggable mummy stashed it away somewhere to keep it safe - fuck it then, could be anywhere. Looked in the store, looked in the master, looked everyfuckingwhere.

Maybe it fell under a couch, the TV, my lazy chair - that was me moving every piece of furniture which could be moved.

And that wasn't the whole story. That was barely half of it.

Man I really have to learn to let things go.

It's not really the attachment I have for the pen, it's not even how much it's worth.

Well, maybe a little.

But I'm not one to lose things! At least I'd like to think I'm not.

People who lose things are.. losers. I don't want to be a loser - literally or not.

Ho ho ho.

Got up this morning, looked everywhere again. For like the sixty-seventh time.

Even dreamt about it. Woke me up from my afternoon nap. I dreamt I had found it stashed in some drawer somewhere.

Realised it was a dream.. proceeded to go like FUCK TIU TIU TIU CIBAINESSSS.

The stupid thing is, I don't really have the time to waste looking for a pen.

My exams are tomorrow. No need for luck, baby - I'm way past that.

The pen belonged to the farmer. He gave it to me when he got a cooler, blinger one.

Losing it made me think childish thoughts, like how I didn't really like it in the first place anyway - there were gold accents on it, and I hate gold. Hate hate hate gold.

Plus the farmer dropped it or something sometime back, and if you look really really carefully under the light, there's this hairline crack that runs along the cap.

If you look really really really carefully.

Defense mechanism? Defence schwefense. Ugh.

Bloody hell I'm heartbroken.

And it's all because of a pen. My pen.

You know in certain parts of the world, they'd call me insane.

I need to learn how to let things go.

What Is Corned Beef?

So asked Jess.

I'm supposed to be studying for my upcoming exams, so naturally I have loads of time to spend answering her question.

No. No. Answering her on the shoutbox or through MSN isn't good enough.

So here's a post dedicated to corned beef, courtesy of Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. :D



Corned beef is beef that is first pickled in brine and then cooked by simmering. Usually, cuts of meat are used that feature long muscle grain, such as the brisket.

The name corned beef is due to a coarse salt used in the pickling process. Corn originally meant grain, as in a small particle of something, and referred to the corns of salt.

In the United States, corned beef is often purchased at delicatessens. Perhaps the most famous sandwich made with it is the Reuben sandwich, consisting of corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing on rye bread and then grilled on a flat griddle or cast iron pan. It is served hot. The Reuben was first developed in Omaha, Nebraska at the Blackstone Hotel. In certain regions, such as in Philadelphia, the Corned Beef Special is a popular offering. It is served cold. It is made by first steaming the corned beef and topping it with coleslaw, and then placing both between rye bread that is coated with Russian dressing. The Corned Beef Special was first developed by Charles Weber at R&W Deli in Philadelphia in 1957.



Katz's Deli in New York City serves large corned beef sandwiches.

It is also associated with Saint Patrick's Day when Irish Americans eat a traditional meal of corned beef and cabbage. According to the History Channel, while cabbage has long been a traditional food item for the Irish, corned beef serving as a substitute for Irish bacon first became traditional in the late 1800s. Irish immigrants living in New York City's Lower East Side sought an equivalent in taste and texture to their traditional Irish bacon (similar to Canadian bacon), and learned about this cheaper alternative to bacon from their Jewish neighbors. It is worth noting that this is slightly inaccurate as it suggests a universal change of tradition; to be more specific, this applies only to the tradition of Irish Americans. Most native Irish people would be surprised and amused (or possibly appalled) at the suggestion that corned beef and cabbage is a traditional Irish meal.

The Saint Patrick's Day tradition has been cause of some controversy among American Catholic dioceses in 2000 and 2006, when the holiday fell on a Friday during Lent. Lenten custom dictates that no meat be consumed on Fridays during Lent. Controversy has arisen because some bishops have granted dispensations to their dioceses for eating corned beef on St Patrick's Day.

Corned beef hash is commonly served as a breakfast food with eggs and hash browns.

Smoking corned beef, usually with the addition of extra spices such as black pepper, produces a cold cut known as pastrami, or, in Canada, smoked meat.

Hope that answered your question, Jess. Heh.

***

It was an extremely drama weekend (although Sarah accuses me of overdramatizing everything). Thanks la, for your love and support. Don't know what I'd do without you. Ho ho ho.

Got my first (and hopefully last - touch wood touch wood touch the Hongkie) needlestick injury.

Was in Casualty over the weekend. Some Indian macha came in with an allergic reaction to a centipede bite. My colleague administered the injections, while I stood behind him watching. He needed a bandage once it was done, so I offered him one. It was the end of our shift, and we were both pretty tired. Before I knew what was going on, I felt a prick in my palm.

The needle stuck me. Broke skin. It had the macha's blood on it.

Yippee. Panicked like hell. Asked him profusely. Ada main pompuan ah? Ada suntik dadah ah? Ada apa penyakit ah? Ha? Ha? Ha? Pasti ha?

Puki.

Blood results (the macha's) came back just today. The doctor called me while I was in the lecture theatre. Ran out.

No HIV, Hepatitis C, Hepatitis B. Apparently, he was telling the truth.

Touch wood touch wood touch the Hongkie.

Will not know for sure for another 6 months, as HIV sometimes takes that long to appear in a blood picture. Will need to check my blood in 6 weeks', 3 months' and 6 months' time.

But the risks are very very very low.

Touch wood touch wood touch the Hongkie.

Decided against taking HIV antiviral prophylaxis, as I don't think I can live with them side-effects.

Well. Touch wood touch wood touch the Hongkie.

She was there, holding my hand through it all. Even when she wasn't physically, she was.

So sweet hor?

***

Exams are in a week or so. Am running out of time.

So what else is new?

First Ever

.. birthday shoutout on the Chaohai.


Why? She's special, that's why! (awwwwwwwww...)

Thanks for being my partner-in-senti. You've always given it to me straight, and for that I'm thankful.

The thing I remember best is us talking about corned beef when I was alone in my apartment in Dublin, waiting on the results of my resits. Ho ho.

Quirky.

Come 12th, you'll be 22!

Raincheck on the gift, yeah? Wink wink. Hahaha.

This is me hoping your celebs will be the best ever come the weekend.

You will always be the babe. :D

Happy birthday!

Hee Hee Ho Ho Hua Hua

Right. There's been too much depressing-heavy shite of late.

What the Chaohai needs is some lovin'. Some old-fashioned spit-shining.

It was Tiff & Dengue's 4th anniversary. And it was also Merdeka day.

Bring out the Absolut, ladies.



And the night begins. Boogs & Paks, the two VVVIPs. Tsssssssssssss...



Boogs & Dengue. Sober. Still.



The intense, proper ones, with the addition of one very Screamish/squeamish Chaohai. Me scared, balls. I think I was hungry. I needed to chomp down. Ho ho.



Paks doing her "You no powderful. You no up to standard. Are you speeking wit meee?" She doesn't layan lame ass weak drinkers. Like me. So shy right?



Ah. Me hearting Dengue after making sure Tiff was nowhere near. Hehe. I don't think he enjoyed it. Four years man, no joke. When're the little ones coming?



Flo's "friend" from Medan. Ho ho ho. Hendra, you the shite. Those black kreteks were the shite. Lai lai laiiii wa lang limmmmmmmm! LIMMMMMMMM!!!



Mmm.. It feels good when you touch me there. Oii are you checking someone out?



They lost Boogs; one roomie short. Zara, Dengue & Tiff. Everyone so happy. Me likey. They likey.



And yes, the night has to end. Eventually. Cheers.

It was a good night. Happy days and more to you two.

Much love.

This Is

..probably my saddest post ever.

To begin with, let me say that I know it's foolish and laughable to put so much stock on a thing. I know I know I do I do. I'm all too familiar with the treasures in heaven - worldly desires thingamajig.

But.

There are very few things that are dear to me. My sister, my sop stim senti bros, the missus.. and Lo-Bang.

Which is why this is going to be sad. Like pain pain sad sad.

Let me begin at the uh.. beginning.

It's been a hellish week for each and every Tan transport. It started with..



The farmer's cart. I was like.. Sigh.. Shit happens, whatever. We do drive in Penang after all. Shit happens. Story of my life.



Then it got freaky when shit happened to another one. But still, manageable. Not too much pain. Shit happens after all yeah? Yeah. Shit happens. No biggie.

The thing about damage to the body work - it's not thaaaattt bad, because a visit to the friendly cinapek uncle with a blowtorch, metal bender, and paint gun will sort it all out. Two days at the most, good as new.

But, if you fuck up something like the rims, then you have cause to worry.

Yes you guessed it. I kerbed Lo-Bang. Real bad. If you thought the incident three months ago was bad, uh.. it wasn't. This is bad. This really takes the cake. This buys the whole cake shop even.



Was going for a dinner I didn't really want to go for. Stupid. Arrived a bit late. Stupid. No parking in the conventional car park. Stupid. Had to use the rotary car park. Stupid. Had my doubts, as it looked pretty narrow, but didn't want to be fussy and all bodoh. Stupid. Drove onto the platform. Slowly.

Creeeeeekkkkkkk. Creeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkk.

Stupid stupid stupid.

The thing is, I'm not pissed at the cosmetic damage per se. I'm pissed at myself. For being so stupid. For not deciding against parking there. I mean, it was a fucking accident waiting to happen. Wide-stanced car, thin rubber, huge wheels. NARROW ROTARY PLATFORM. Accident. Waiting. To. Happen.

Man I can't live with being stupid. I can't live with making stupid mistakes. Dastardly ego.



A clearer picture, to drive home the pain. I kerbed not one, but two rims. Front left and rear right. Super duper kawaii, baby.

You cut me deep. You cut me deep.

Anyone knows of a solution bar swapping the whole set of rims? I'm receptive. And grateful.



The stupid Chaohai thought he only messed up the rims. But when he awoke this morning, he discovered a deep scratch running along the driver's door. With the aid of sunlight, one sees more.

And hurts. And hurts. And hurts.

Man the disappointment is so all-encompassing, I'd cry if I was a pussy. I would.

And yes, I know it's foolish, but I can't help feeling so. I can't help it.

***

Exams are in three weeks.

Yippee.

The missus has left on a jetplane. It's only for a day, it's only for a day, dammit. I know it's foolish, but I can't help feeling so. I can't help it.

I miss her.

Yippee.

Somehow I feel like someone jerked my heart out through my throat, did the Riverdance on it, then proceeded to fart on it. Then spit on it. Then kick it around a lil' bit.

Yes, drama. I know.

Happy Merdeka. Woot woot.