Let's Get Involved!

I was on my ceramic throne today (i.e. toilet bowl for you simpletons) reading a copy of my wife's I'm Pregnant! magazine. The article was about what to expect during labour. I learnt a great many thing there, on the crapper. Among them was the ever famous "you men think you have it easy!" subject of labor pains and contractions.

In my foolish determination to be a an A-grade caring partner to a 6 month pregnant woman, I wanted to be extremely supportive when that moment will eventually arrive. In order to do that, I obviously have to learn as much as I can about what she will or may go through.

Birthing contractions get closer and closer as the baby is nearing the time for it to be born. Contractions can last for 2-3 minutes each time.

And then I had an epiphany.

2-3 minutes and an explosion of audibly wretched moments later, I emerged out of the toilet (sanitized of course), as the most sensitively understanding and caring husband and birthing partner in the whole world.

Self Conscious Self Conscience

Have u ever had the feeling of being your self conscience's self conscience? I think I have a pretty symbiotic relationship with mine. Sometimes, I question my self conscience so much that the idiot has to take time off to get back to me on certain things.

"I don't think you should stay here for the night. It'll get messy. Best to politely call it a night and head back home."

"Are you kidding me? Aren't you tired of our left hand already?"

"Well...Umm...I..wait...I guess.....you're right, dude. Holy shit dude, what was I thinking?!. Onward!"

Sometimes it feels like my self conscience is losing confidence in his abilities. He sometimes feels like I should do this, but then again, he leaves it up to me. Nowadays, he even goes as low as being impressed by my foolish actions.

"Dude I can't believe you're actually smoking in the car! Like, she's gonna kill you! And you're not the least bit worried! You're so awesome."

Some days, he goes a bit overboard.

"Look, I know it's probably not right of me to suggest this, but since most of the staff are out for meetings, you think it's okay if we surf some porn?"

Have you ever toyed with the idea that we could actually be our conscience's conscience in an alternate yet parallel universe where he is the actual person?

And if so, have I failed to keep my guy on the right path? Or did he fail me first?

What do you think?

"Dude. Honestly? I have no idea. But for just once could you please shut the f*ck up?! Get outta my head, will ya?"

Surf's Up

"Corruption doth appear in land and sea because of the evil which men's hands have done so that He may make them taste a part of that which they have done in order that they may return to the right path." - The Holy Quran 30:41

Wave after wave of biblical-proportioned shite is upon us, dear mankind.

There was the wave of terror, violence and paranoia of 9/11

There was the devouring tsunami of Boxing Day

And now the Financial Tsunami that are drowing us in our own earthly riches.

But who gives a toss right? Because it's apparently more interesting to know whether Muhyiddin gets enough seats to contest. And apparently it's more exciting to find out if Norman Hakim really shagged that 20 year old slut and took 45 minutes to actually get dressed with time to kill for a fag and a cuddle before opening the doors for the religious cops.

Ignorance is bliss, no? Only if you know whats going on and choose to be ignorant.

For me, I know enough to know that shit has hit the fan and sliced into enough tiny projectiles to be redistributed evenly across the whole room to know that I choose to not know what to do about it.

And like a respected business partner I know used to always say, "If you don't know what to do even when someone tells you how to do it, just sit around all day and twiddle your thumbs. At least you're not screwing up something".

How did we get into such a mess? Man is a destroyer in nature. Even when we build things, we always tend to be the one responsible for its destruction. We built the concept of finance and the financial institution and globalization and economic necessity. And that's where I believe our downfall is.

We have turned means into necessity.

The creation of money were a means of transaction to get what we need and want. Back in the day, getting what you want could either mean feeding and cleaning out cow dung for 3 years before you enjoy a good steak, or spearing a fanged beast for a new pair of leather kicks.

Since then, we've fucked around with it so much that it gets transacted, invisibly, between god-knows-where to hell-should-i-know-who. And before you're even sure you had it to begin with, someone tells you that you've just lost it all. Then you really start thinking about spearing someone.

So what's next, then?

In true cheerleading fashion some may chant "Bring It On!" and shake our pom-poms in the air.

For some, it will be a call to roll up their sleeves, grit on a toothpick and say "Wow, that was a great party. Now help me clean up this shit".

Some will say "Oops. Yeah, shouldnt've done that. Tee-hee-hee"

Most in Malaysian Politics will say "Kita Okkkkk...! 5% for next year! Even if Singapore and Australia are announcing negative or 0%. And so what if the whole of Iceland is bust. By the way, Mawi nak kahwin kat stadium youuuuu!!"

But I really, really, really hope...that most of us will start to realise that when they say "Damn it to hell!" in the movies, it literally means nearly everything worldly that we have or are trying to achieve in our lives. For damning us to hell, they will.

"And others have confessed their faults, they have mingled a good deed and an evil one; perhaps Allah will turn to them (mercifully); surely Allah is Forgiving, Merciful." (Qur'an 9:102)

Good night, god bless, and don't be too hard on yourselves. We're all screwed at the moment. But at least be that guy that knows he's screwed, rather than the guy who's always tricked into picking up the bar of soap. Every single time.

The Other Woman.

Last Friday morning I woke up with the anticipation of a 13 year old geek about to meet his mysterious european pen pal behind the delicate cursive handwriting he's been lusting over for the past 3 months.

After dropping off the wife and the just recently-kicking unborn at her office, I headed off to my own. The next 2 hours at work seemed like watching Squawk Box on mute. Action was happening all around, but my senses were on overdrive only underneath my quiet exterior. My mind was somewhere else. I had that blank yet suspiciously smirked face of a pimply 15 year old with a porn tape in his backpack and parents that were going out to dinner that night.

She was waiting for me. And I know she was ready. Her manager called me to say so.

But I had to plan it discreetly. So no one would be the wiser. But I needed a means to get there. People were sure to notice my absence if the CRV wasn't parked in its bay.

Finally I hitched a ride with the brother, after much negotiation. We travelled North-West, where I was told to pick her up.
Once dropped off at the door, I could barely bring myself to push through the glass doors. I didn't know how I'd react upon meeting her for the first time. I knew what she looked like, sure, from all the pictures of her I've been lusting for so long. But to actually meet face to face for the first time?

Her manager greeted me as soon as I walked in, and without further hesitation, brought me to the usually-off-limits room at the back. She was still getting ready, and I could watch from the other room. I did, and the turn-on was extremely overpowering that I decided to come back later...when she was ready for me.

I got a lift to a hotel nearby, to calm my senses. With an order of gyoza and a nicoise salad, I weighed the enormity of what I had set out to do. It seems so wrong. But not everyone is as lucky. It was the perfect crime that had not happened yet. To have complete happiness at home, and yet indulge myself in another seduction.

After an hour, I realised it was time. Back through the glass doors, North-West. Manager greets. But this time, she was ready. And waiting at the lobby.

Gorgeous.

Her eyes, as bright in the day as they would undoubtedly be in the darkest of nights. Her lips, framing her perfect face.
The curves.

Ohmygod.

Curves that accentuated her shoulder line so perfectly.

And to top it all off, the manager reminds me, in a whisper, that she can walk like a lady, and be ridden like a freak, if I knew the right buttons to press.

Ladies, and gentlemen, it was time to take my new Audi A4 B8 1.8 TFSI home.

Welcome home, Au-Au.