Favourites filed under the M/N/O tab

I'm generally okay with most types of music, but am inclined towards melodic indie, folk, soft rock, alternative, instrumental. Nothing too mainstream (usually not sellouts anyway), nothing too inaccessible (Mr Bungle, anyone?). I do tend to veer away from rap, Europop and all Asian music in general (I am Asian. You don't get to call me racist), though Jay Chou is the one exception.

Madonna - Drowned World /Substitute for Love (things got downhill from Ray of Light)

Matt Pond PA - New Hampshire

Metric - Love is a Place

Metric - Soft Rock Star ("Don't shine for swine", gotta love that!)

Michael Cera and Ellen Page - Anyone Else but You (Juno has a surprisingly sweet voice)

Missy Higgins - Where I Stood

MGMT - Kids

Natalie Imbruglia - Wrong Impression (happens frequently to me, hence blog title)

No Doubt - Running (I ♥ Gwen Stefani)

OK Go! - Here It Goes Again (Watch the clip if you haven't already, it's hilarious!)

My latest obsession

Now that I'm no longer working, days are spent catching up on sleep, with friends (I managed to meet up with several people I hadn't seen since 1997!) and on reading (currently on the Pulitzer winning The Hours. I want to read Atonement but I've watched the movie already and that'll kind of ruin the ending). X very aptly calls me a "lady of leisure".

And I have a new interest - House, MD.


When X and I were in Sydney last spring (sooooo many flies!), we'd met up with H for breakfast in Newtown. He later invited us for Malaysian Night at UNSW. I'd called him to confirm the details.

Now, if your friend from 4,116 miles away decides to spend her Friday night with you just so she can see your gig with your inebriated, lyric-amnesiac vocalist, one would expect a little more, I don't know, appreciation.

J: H, what time should-

H: Jan, hang up! I'm watching House! Callmelaterbye!

J: But-

H: *click*

I figured House must be a pretty good show. Or H might be in An Inconvenient Position (the guy lived on top of a sex shop). Anyway, I tuned in too and found it interestingly eccentric. However I don't have cable TV (on which it's broadcast locally) and lacked the time to actually download the series. Thankfully, I discovered my brother owns the DVD sets of Seasons 1 to 4.

Now with whatever intervals between my socializing, errand-running and overall lazing around, I'll spend drooling over marvelling at House's dry wit, sarcasm and multisyllabic medical terms, all delivered in a flawless American accent (Hugh Laurie is British), with a persistent limp.

I'm up to Season 2 at the moment (yes, yes, what rock have I been hiding under?) and apart from the awkward love scenes between him and Stacey, the guy is perfect.

Now excuse me while I get my daily dose of House so I can catch up with the rest of the population.

My childhood Eden

I spent the better part of my childhood in Damansara Heights - 16 years. In spite of the prestige attached to the area, our house was dilapidated corner terrace, whose utilities would fail from time to time. I remember the frequent thunderstorms, followed by inevitable blackouts.

There was an empty field beside our relatively large, but mostly barren garden. When we got a broomerang from our uncle who lives in Sydney, I got plenty of scratches from climbing over the rusted fencing retrieving it.

The woven wire was often covered with various creepers. There was the one with inedible green and red berries and dark leaves; another one with fruit that looked like mini pumpkins, with tangy pulp and seeds inside, which I rarely managed to get my hands on, thanks to the sparrows. On rare occasions, we would find a chameleon camouflaged within the vines and leave.

We had two coconut trees in our backyard. Whatever the squirrels missed, we scraped and drank, icy cold from our ancient fridge. My brother and I once tried tying a piece of cloth between both trunks. Our makeshift hammock experiment failed - we never managed to stay five minutes on it without tumbling out.

We also had two fir trees lined up by the driveway. These in comparison to our short, squat coconut trees, were taller than the house itself. Their foliage were always soft and pliable, before maturing into hard, spiky needles which would embed themselves in our palms and fingers, were we not careful during a game of tag. During flights of fancy and festivity, we'd decorate them with tinsel, baubles and handmade ornaments. These, we usually failed to remove and they'd pretty much stay there or get washed away by the rain.

We had a half-pipe, uncovered drain that ran parallel to the parameters of the house. As an antisocial, nerdy kid, I'd spend hours and hours squatting at the edge, my myopic eyes intently squinting for interesting bugs. The drain was like a bag of goodies - I always found something new. There were your average garden variety slugs and snails - which I would either torment or ignore depending on my mood; there were strange squishy organisms, with no visible features, apart from their long tails, through which they breathed (it was the only part not underwater). I still haven't a clue what they are. There were all sorts of beetles, shy millipedes, scary centipedes and even once, a relatively large monitor lizard.

Whenever it rain, the earthworms would appear. Some would get stranded on the cement, which would be my cue for their rescue. I have no idea why, but I have a soft spot for these slimy, harmlessly fragile creatures. (When I was 18, I once stopped in the middle of a road to pick one off the road before it could get squashed by the traffic. My friends refused to walk near me until I'd washed my hands.) Our terrain was pretty uneven, with bald patches and slopes. I loved sneaking out into the rain, splashing about puddles, but always ever so mindful of a misstep that might kill an earthworm.

Our backyard led to a slope fringed by a small patch of rubber trees. When ripened, the brown shelled seeds would burst out of their hard, wooden pods. It was always a pleasure to hunt for them, all scattered across the grass. A troop of monkeys lived there and would occasionally make an appearance. They'd try to get in, walk all over the garden, attack my neighbour's outdoor kitchen, hiss at us through the door grill. But most annoyingly of all, they'd perch on top of the fence, their smug, condescending expressions taunting my dog, Momo and I. We'd yell/ bark ourselves hoarse, but these creatures were happily immune to our threats. We usually ended up calling the local animal control, but the monkeys always came back.

My love affair with the garden (and the monkeys' reign) came to an end when construction began on the empty field. Some VIP had purchased it and decided to build a house. The foreign labour involved were crude and perverse. I was pretty much unable to leave my house without loud leers and wolf whistles all the time, even if just to fetch the mail or paper. Needless to say, I stopped squatting about at the drains and collecting spiders and grasshopper specimens. I think this experience, which dragged on for about five years (the terrain had a steep slope and they needed to build an elaborate foundation) cultivated my prejudice towards immigrants, which ironic considering how I will soon be one myself.

But of course, I won't leer at the Australians. Or wolf whistle. The appropriate way to express my appreciation would be, "Crikey mate! That's a beaut!"

I still can't believe Steve Irwin's dead.

Reviews: Carlos and Porto Romano

I've been putting off these for some time. This isn't supposed to be a food blog but I get a lot of pleasure out of having intimate conversations over good food. Which I've had quite a lot of recently. It would be too selfish of me not to share. That, and I'm sick of the soggy receipts sitting in my tote.

Carlos, Pavilion
DL accompanied me for a good 12 hours to celebrate my release from prison last day at the firm. We had a really wonderful time (thank you, Uncle!). Apart from retail therapy, we also watched Romulus,My Father. Very poignant, but requires full concentration and lots of empathy. If you're after instant gratification this is not for you, i.e. no one takes off their clothes/ dies in a gory manner.

We couldn't quite decide where to eat and decided to settle for Carlos, which is located along the alfresco dining strip at the Pavilion. It was reasonably packed. We managed to get a table by the window, in spite of the terrible service (staff were slow to respond to EVERYTHING).


Our drinks arrived first. My Strawberry Milkshake (MYR9) looks pretty, but I felt it wasn't cold enough and it was made with Nestle ice cream! In Malaysia, Nestle ice cream is about the crappiest you can get. I get visions of preservatives and cancerous tumours whenever I see it. I hate locally produced ice creams with a vengeance. David liked his Cafe Latte (MYR9) fine though.


I decided on Seafood Quesadilla (MYR24), which proved to be an excellent choice. Now, I've had very little exposure to Mexican food, limited to tapas and fajitas at La Bodega and tortillas served on a liveaboard dive trip at the Great Barrier Reef. This was excellent stuff! Lots of gooey cheese dripping between the fresh seafood (calamari, prawns, mussels etc), wrapped in a tortilla shell. It came with three dips - sour cream, guacamole and salsa (which was heavenly - DL kept stealing mine).


DL's Carlos Mexican Burger (MYR21) was pretty good too. The beef was grainy and covered in cheese. It came with a small salad, potato wedges and salsa dip. As far as local burgers go, this was pretty decent.


Porto Romano, Mont Kiara
I was in charge of organizing JL's birthday and we'd passed this quaint looking building the week before. LC claimed she's heard good things about the food, so we decided upon there.

A couple of days before the event, BE and I decided to give it a test run. We really liked our Ox-tail Soup (MYR19), which came which huge chunks of Ox-tail. The meat was tender and fell off the bone easily. The soup was flavourful, but not too spicy.


We also shared the Traditional Paella (MYR32), which is essentially risotto with seafood. It was very good and the portion is just nice when shared between two. However it was just a little underwhelming as I'd had The Best Paella Ever in The Balcony in Byron Bay, during my second year anniversary celebration with X. That, would have been too much even for two.


I was still satisfied anyway. On Saturday, my overdressed friends (they thought it was fine dining. The place is a two storey standalone building and looks kind of posh.) and I (permanently underdressed) turned up for lunch. There were 9.5 of us as VC brought her baby.

I don't think the fireplace is real. A little impractical in our climate.

I forgot to take pictures of the starters, but the Garlic Bread (MYR8) was reaaally good. We also had Summer Minestrone (MYR18) and Porto Romano Seafood Soup (MYR18), which were excellent.

Neapolitan Pizza (MYR27) : The toppings were creepy unusual - anchovies and olives.

Porto Romano Salad (MYR18): I still think the seafood salads at Delicious and Dome are nicer. There was just something missing.

Roast Rack Lamb (MYR36): I liked how it was marinated. Quite good.

Dory Fillet (MYR27): Flaky and fresh, but I didn't like the lemon butter dressing. Think the fish would go better with a creamier sauce.

DL brought some Shiraz Rose by Jacob's Creek, as recommended by Mercato's sommelier. LL (Privates of the Carribean, anyone?) ever so trusting, believed him when he said it was Ribena and was pretty shocked when she took a sip. I'm personally not a fan of wine hence have no comment. It should be noted that corkage is MYR40 per bottle though.

The restaurant remains a bit of a hidden secret for the moment and is great for privacy. The past two times I went, our table would be the only one with Malaysians. It's located just past Mont Kiara International School. There are branches in Taman Tun and City Square, though I heard they're not as pretty.

You can't what during Puasa?

(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: DI!
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: IS IT TRUE U CANT PICK UR NOSE DURING PUASA[1]?

diee_w says: hahaha yes
diee_w says: supposedly
diee_w says: what's with the caps!
diee_w says: is that how you express extreme shock?

(*)jªÑº¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: sorry i was shocked
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: yes
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: lol
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: hahahahhahahahaha

diee_w says: hahaha
diee_w says: well, u can pick all u want when u buka[2]
diee_w says: but if a fly crawled up yr nostril while yr fasting, i guess u cant pick it out

(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: hahahhahahahahahahhahahahahhahahhhhhhhhhhahh
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: omg!!!!
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: seriously!!!!
(*)jªÑï磰º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: LOL
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: wat if it tried to crawl into ur brain?

diee_w says: you'll just hv to live with it i guess
diee_w says: the ultimate sacrifice during yr fasting days...letting a fly crawl up yr brain
diee_w says: lol
diee_w says: hahaha
diee_w says: well, im sure u can pick insects out
diee_w says: i dont think it's 'batal'[3] anyway. its not encouraged
diee_w says: and in islamic studies 'not encouraged' means if u do it too many times (we're never told HOW MANY is TOO MANY), it means it's batal/haram[4]

(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: hahahahahhahahahhahahahahhahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: this is too bizarre
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: i hv to blog abt it
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: n educate the masses
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: the ignorant masses

diee_w says: lol
diee_w says: so noble of you
diee_w says: i'm sure u will find more bizarre things about our religion

(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: seriously?
(*)jªÑ°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ says: tell tell!

diee_w says: i cant think of one rivalling picking nose = batal puasa right now


1. Fasting/ Fasting month of Ramadhan
2. Breaking of fast
3. Cancellation, though fasting is not cancelled per se. It may be voided if one does anything considered haram and usually has to be made up for at a later date.
4. Illegal, carries the same connotations as kosher to the Jewish

B, the scare with the hair

I met B in Form 4, when we entered the same class. Of course, I knew of him - after all, he was the tallest boy in school. He had thick afro-esque hair which puffed out like a mini atomic explosion. It was stiff and unyielding even without hair product, and was a convenient hiding place for our contraband whenever spot checks were conducted.

Fast forward seven years. The afro has been traded for a crew cut. Once baby-faced, B now looks somewhat like an escaped convict when the smile drops off. It comes handy, in this crime infested city.

I needed to return a pair of denim shorts. The button had dropped off within the second time I'd worn it (no, it was not too small for me), but I'd lost the receipt. I knew the shop's staff were going to give me a hard time.

So I got B over to give them the evil eye. I guess a 6'4", unsmiling, unshaven guy glowering at them really did help. They'd run out of stock, but did help fix the button up in no time.

After dinner at Vietnam Kitchen, we'd sat down at Baskin Robbins where B treated me to ice cream.

Cherri Berri Passion (cirit birit is Malay for diarrhea)

I was telling him about my latest stalker (I have a disturbing amount of stalkers. One day, I might find the time to blog about them all). Anyway this was a creepy dude from my former firm's IT Department. The guy was basically tracking my online movement and giving himself away with all his preemptive messages.

B: Jan, I have to tell you this - you're a creep magnet.

J: But B, didn't you have a crush on me in Form 5?

B: ......

We chatted the evening away trading mole stories from Men in Tights and Jimmy Fallon's 2005 MTV awards intro (which by the way is the funniest thing I have seen since only forever - though if you lack the patience, the mole gag starts at 5:40) before calling it a night.

Everyone needs an enormous, intimidating friend to swap mole stories with too. They're even handier with afros - though at the rate his beard is progressing, we can start hiding stuff there instead.

The awesomeness of Facebook

I've had a number of interesting encounters on Facebook. The social networking tool is catalysmic to the reconnection of several friends I'd long lost contact with.

I first got the account in an attempt to keep in touch with friends overseas. And conveniently found a whole plethora of old school/ tuition buddies I'd been trying to look up for ages. Needless to say, I'm now an addict.

Now I'm sure if you have an account, you've probably had many people you either don't know (with no mutual friends either)/ don't like or talk to in real life try to add you as a friend. I find this a pathetic effort to boost their flagging social lives and popularity and thus always click Ignore. Sometimes more than once before they get the message.

So anyway this guy from Cairo adds me, but with a message: Jan, old pen pals?

I'm intrigued. After some thought, it comes back to me.

When we were in Standard 6, there was this whole pen pal craze going on. You paid about MYR3 and applied for one. You'd give your personal details and three choices of countries. Having been exposed to too much MTV and Hollywood, I'd put USA as my top choice (People I meet while travelling often think I'm from the States. I blame Mark for my "American twang".).

So when I got my Egyptian pal, I was a little disappointed. What could I possibly have in common with him? He probably lived in a pyramid and rode his camel to school (yes, I was an ignorant little 12 year old). Nonetheless I decided to get my money's worth and wrote him a letter.

I never got a reply and eventually forgot all about it.

So now, 11 years later I finally get to contact him.


Aside from this, I'd recently gotten in touch with a former classmate who'd had a brief, unpleasant transit in our elitist high school. I've just discovered she now lives in Gold Coast (where I'm moving next month) and is a mother of one. In our recent exchanges she's shown me the grace I did not possess at 15, when I chose popularity over loyalty.

Perhaps when we do meet up, I will find the courage to apologize.

Review: Ying Ker Lou

We were meeting my brother and his family at The Curve, but didn't quite share the same craving for Dome as my sister-in-law. In an attempt to further assert his heritage, my father suggested Ying Ker Lou.

I'm of Hakka ancestry, but have never quite managed anything beyond choo-ma-kai?; for the unenlightened, this equates to What's up?. However my ex-employer once exclaimed randomly, "You are Hakka, yes?" My amazement was quadrupled by the fact that he's from Finland.

But I digress. The restaurant was packed. We were forced to dine alfresco in spite of the humidity. The food took forever to arrive and we dove in like starving savages (hence the half gobbled photos).

First dish was Prawn Omelette. I didn't bother to take down the official names as they were translated literally from Chinese. I remember this one being something along the lines of Prawn Egg. This was pretty yummy - the prawns were quite juicy and fresh and thankfully de-veined. Needed some salt though.


Next came Long Beans and Capsicum with Lean Pork (Siew Yoke, sans fatty bits). I harbour a personal dislike towards Siew Yoke, so it wasn't quite up my alley. But my dad adores the dish.


Then came the final dish - Free-range Chicken in Chinese Wine. It was really good. I'm pretty used to your average genetically modified-mass produced poultry, so the skinny, lean meat was a surprise.

The bill came up to MYR94, inclusive of drinks and steamed rice. The portions are quite tiny - I would suggest ordering one dish per person. It's good healthy food, but give me MSG anytime.

Carnival fun

It's been a busy weekend. We had the church carnival going on and our lifegroup was put in charge of a games stall. Friday night, we had dinner and headed to the venue at Bukit Jalil Golf and Country Resort to set up shop. We tried out the carrom-like game and strung up the sign. We blew up balloons. Adrian was chagrined by our configuration and forbade us to mix the "long ones and round ones together".


I got the munchies from all the huffing and puffing so we headed to Mc D's for supper before calling it a night. For Saturday, I was due for the afternoon shift. Owing to the ridiculous jams and constant rain, JL and I got there late, at about 3.30pm. JK kindly let us off to join in the bazaar, in spite of having taken charge of the event since 7.30am. I wouldn't say we contributed much labour.

Our stall Sliders - You get points for accuracy, which may be redeemed for gifts

The stalls were organized neatly in types - food, games, retail etc. There were some bigwigs too - KFC, Pizza Hut... we even got bags from DiGi! JL and I walked around in the persistent drizzle, darting from stall to stall. Relatively rich with MYR180 worth of (donated) coupon vouchers, I was impulsive with my purchases. I bought an enormous DIY ship model-building kit for X, only to remember how the Australian customs would probably blacklist me (wood products are prohibited). I got Mum a pair of dangly blue crystal earrings. JL and I also got ourselves some tops from the FOS counter, all 50% off since it was almost closing time.

There was a dunking booth too!

Hungry from all the retail, we got some sweet fizzy fruit punches, cupcakes from D'lish and sushi from Jusco. JL and I split another book of coupons - she, to get more sushi and I, to visit the Animal Tent.

More cute than tasty. JK's ones are way better.

The animals looked reasonably happy. The cages were clean and they all looked well cared for. The handlers were clearly attached to them. It was pretty cool. I'm a sucker for all things fuzzy, so this guy was my favourite.

South African Coati - makes cute squeaky noises and sniffs fingers with its piggish snout

Marmoset - world's smallest primate

Fennec foxes - looked a bit melancholic

There were some reptiles too. I petted a python curled around its handler on my way in. It did cross my mind, how strange that snakes should be around at a church carnival.

Serene meditative pythons

South African Bullfrog - very Jabba the Hut

The extremely multicoloured Leopard Gecko

We left happily at 5.15pm and headed for DL's place to congregate for dinner. Having read all about Al's fascination with rice paper rolls, I ordered some at O' Ngoc in Solaris. The palatability of Vietnamese food is heavily dependent on the freshness of the ingredients, which in this case was quit frankly lacking. We prefer Vietnam Kitchen's slightly Malaysian-ised fare.

I slept 14 hours into the next day.

Vanity is tiresome

With my face starting to resemble the surface of Mars, and my mother's constant nagging threats of permanent disfiguration, I went over to Assunta Hospital to see the infamous Dr Nathan.

It was pretty chaotic. Between constant interruptions from an army of assistants/ nurses and another patient still going through some procedure, he declared I would need Accutane.

Having heard all the horror stories of the retinoid, I hesitated. Plus I didn't think my skin was that bad. I'd only expected a couple of cortisone jabs! However, he didn't have time for such pauses and soon I was ushered out with a long prescription.

Oh well.

So here I am, on my third day. My lips are dry, my tongue is parched. My vision is slightly blurry. I'm terrified if I sneeze, my nose will turn into a faucet of blood. And of course, I look like crap - I'm not allowed to wear make up. My skin is super dry and I'm strangely tempted to hack off my long hair.

It's not terribly restrictive, I suppose. But I've never been one for rules. This is my regime for the week.

Morning
Wash face with water only. Dab on Eryderm 2% all over face.

Afternoon
Wash face with water only. Dab on Eryderm 2% all over face.

Take 2 tablets of Suprim 480.

Night
Wash face with water only. Dab on Eryderm 2% all over face. Rinse it off, then apply benzoyl peroxide moisturiser.

Take 2 tablets of Suprim 480 and one capsule of Acnotin 20 (generic form of Accutane).

I'm supposed to remain on treatment for six months. Will probably need an advance prescription from him when I leave in October. I'm not even sure if I can keep it up. No make up for six months! I sure hope X won't dump me it'll be worth it.

The dent in X's heart

My poor boyfriend. Innocently parked his car at a client's and WHAM! Next thing you know, there's a giant dent on his beloved car (whom I used to think of as Sue - the most commonly recurring name in his long list of conquests exes).

I curse the other party to lose all their hair and teeth and develop boils on their cheeks and a goiter on their necks the size of a softball. Sort of like Freakshow in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, minus the sexy wife. Oh and of course, develop haemorrhoids so huge, they'll need a whooppie cushion to sit down. And what the heck, I'll throw in constipation for good measure.