Confessions of a “Chubby” Asian Girl

Yesterday, was an experience…one I’d not like to repeat…ever again. A few days ago, I was browsing maps of Singapore online to see which countries are closest. I saw that Indonesia was pretty close, about a fingernail swipe away, well, at least on the map. So I thought it would be a bloody brilliant idea to visit Indonesia, Batam Island to be exact, and since I’m on a shoestring budget, why not travel the most economical way possible? By ferry. There are a few ferries that take you to Batam, I went with Penguin. A round trip ticket costs $43 Singapore dollars, which is about $30 USD. Good deal, right? Keep reading.

Well, before I actually purchased the ticket, I had to exchange my Malaysian currency, because after temporarily residing here for the past few weeks, I still hadn’t changed over the majority of my cash, which wasn’t much. It turns out there are no money changers around my grandpa’s house where I am staying. I hit up 4 nearby banks, and found that yes, they do exchange money, just not Malaysian money, they’ll gladly exchange my US money, which is a joke since I have literally 4 of those said US dollars on me. Every bank directed me to Bukit Timah Plaza, and since I again, wanted to go the economical route, I opted to walk. It took about 10 minutes to reach there by foot, and by the time I had arrived I was drenched in sweat from the lovely equatorial heat. I find the ONE money changer in that place and find that he has just left for Muslim prayer, he’d be back in an hour. So now, I am stuck in a mall with about 2 Singapore dollars and 45 cents, in a MALL…for an hour. Being without cash in a mall is a very hard thing for a girl. So what do I do? I window shop; eyeing glittering rings and bracelets, looking lustfully at beautifully tailored dresses and shoes, and browsing bookshelves of fiction and CD collections. I hate window shopping. After that agonizing 60 minutes, I race back to the money changer and the very next thing I do after that is purchase The Eagles Complete Greatest Hits for 9.90 SGD. Score! And now on to to the ferry station.

I manage to catch the 4:10pm boat, I step inside the vessel and see two aisles of seats, each row has about 7 seats, most of them were filled, but I found one that wasn’t, to get to the vacant window seat I had to sidle past people with my big arse in a gap the size of half the length of your arm, not cool. I settle in, and find the place very stuffy, I catch a sign that says Smoker’s area with a small set of stairs leading upwards. I sidle past everyone with my big arse again and head to the smoker’s area, hoping for some fresh sea air. There was indeed a deck and it did provide fresh sea air, but it was probably the most dangerous deck I have ever stepped foot on. There was a single, anemic looking rail that separated me from the choppy waters and the boat’s propeller, and since the ferry was insanely bumpy, one slip and you were a goner, added to that it began to rain, making the deck floor slippery-er.

Crew man fastening sheets to protect from the rain.

Not to interrupt this oh-so-exciting entry, but as I uploaded pics for this edition, I came across what appeared to be Ashley Tisdale’s, from High School Musical, flickr account. The pic that caught my eye, was a sugary sweet Ash in cotton candy pink, brandishing a lip gloss wand, the photo was titled, “it’s make up time! hee”. I flipped through the photos and discovered a profile, here’s what it says, copied and pasted for your viewing pleasure:

well whats really to describe im a girl ovisly idk how to spell that oh well who cares! lol im what u say a dreamer and a sleeper luv sleeping hee here are some of the things i like hsm and hsm 2 gosh i hope i dont grow out of it here are the couples i like :) lashleylucas and ashley )zanessa zac and vanessa) i also like lunessa lucas and vanessa) zashley zac and ashley) wow lots know anyways whatelse my fave colors are black and white used to hate white now luv luv luv it idkw my fave thing ok well thats it im tired of typing so if u wanna know more send me some flickrmail!! and add me as a contact well byes

Oh well who cares is right! I hope for this little girl’s sake that she is in fact little, about ten, that would give her an out for her terrible spelling and manic obsession for HSM. And two, (was there a one?) I have seen that film, and it is like Grease for the 21st century but lacking good acting, captivating story lines and songs. What was my point? Oh yeah…I fear the future, if children are the future, I fear the future. Young ones being able to register flickr accounts, but not able to spell obviously…scary.

Where was I? The boat. Okay, so it started raining, but I didn’t want to go back down into the stuffy, sea coffin below, so I stayed there amidst the 50-year-old smoking chimneys, breathing in equal amounts of salt air and nicotine. After about 10 minutes of propeller sounds, boat swaying and cigarette smoke I got hit with a monstrous migraine. My options were to go back down stairs and sit in the sardine tin, stay on deck and continue inhaling about 20 peoples’ cancer sticks or jump off the boat. I was really tempted to do the last one. But I didn’t and went back downstairs since the smoke was becoming unbearable. After the hour long ride, I was relieved to step onto solid ground. I was now in another country - yippee!

Before getting sea sick. Woo hoo! I’m on a boat! Moments later…Get me off this boat or I’ll woo hoo all over you!

Upon exiting the ferry terminal I was accosted by about 6 or 7 taxi drivers shouting at me; “Taxi? Taxi?”. It reminded me a bit of Jamaica, except they weren’t Jamaican and they didn’t have Jamaican accents. I opted to cross the street to a nearby mall and find out how to get to a beach or a casino or both. The other day, I had read online that many Singaporeans weekended in Batam for the casino access and beaches. I’m not much of a gambler, but I thought when in Rome (Batam), do as the Romans (Batamians) do! Before doing so, I wanted to try some authentic Indonesian, but the mall seemed to have nothing in terms of food but a grocery store and three bakeries. I did see something kinda gross but interesting at the grocery store:

What IS that? Stingray?

I tried to ask someone outside where some sort of hawker food center was, but all I got was, “Taxi? Taxi?”. So I filled myself with a black pepper chicken puff and a sausage roll at one of the three bakeries. After the authentic Indonesian fare, I went over to the information booth to ask where the nearest casino was, it didn’t appear to be a good beach day as it was soggy. The info lady tells me I need to go to Nagoya for casinos. The cab ride is 40,000 rupiah (around 5 USD). The cabbie asks where to and I say Nagoya and ask him if there are casinos there. He shrugs his shoulders, and only seemed to recognize the word “Nagoya”. I don’t want to go to the wrong place as the info lady seemed to only be half listening to what I said and didn’t even look at me when I talked to her. So, I asked the driver again if there were any casinos in Nagoya. He pauses and then nods his head self-consciously again indicating that he has no idea what the hell I’m saying. He says, “Nagoya…yes?” I say, “Casino…yes?” He replies, “Cah-see-no….? Ingleesh…no.” Um, what? I say casino a little slower as if that will help, finally he says, “Casino..no…Jakarta..no…Indonesia (and waves his hand, to indicate nothing)..no”. I assume he means there are no casinos in all of Indonesia. But that can’t be…I read it online, and we know the internet is reliable, right? I say, “Casino, yes!” He says, ‘”Casino, no.” Alright, fine…I tell him to just take me back because the entire time we’ve been arguing, well, not really arguing, he’s been driving and I’m sure it’s gonna cost me. I tell him to take me back, he looks to me, and not at the road and makes a u-turn motion, “Bek?” “Yes, bek.” Once back, I ask the a security officer where the nearest casino is, this guy at least knows English and tells me that since last year all the casinos have been shut down in all of Indonesia. Great!! I also discover there are no beaches here either - way to break a girl’s spirit! So I ask him what there is to do around Batam, he replies, “..shopping, eating.” Hmm…sounds like Singapore. So, I head back into the cab, but now the cabbie wants 60,000 rupiah since he’s already driven, I don’t even try to argue, fine, whatever, just take me somewhere.

I arrive at Nagoya and find that it looks almost identical to the mall I just left. Ah well, I may as well make use of this, let’s shop! My only goal was to find souvenirs to bring back to the states, along the way I saw a couple of interesting stores, this being the best:

Huge’s..don’t know if this is the best name for a large women’s store. Fitting, yes. Appropriate, er…

And down one floor, for those that shop at places that suit their state of mind:

This is more like it!

After my retail appetite has been satisfied, my stomach’s appetite starts to complain so I search for food. I find this:

BFC? Sounds strangely like a fried chicken joint I’ve seen before. Hmm…no. I press on. I head outside of the mall and for some either really brilliant or really stupid reason, follow three young men that disappear behind the mall. I’m thinking that they know where the food is, the back of the mall is darkish with large pipes everywhere, ok, time to head back…until I see this, like a desert oasis before me:

I can hear the angels singing “Hallelujah!”

Yes! A hawker-type centre, it’s not really a true one since, it’s not outdoors and it’s not dirty, but close enough. Since I’ve never had Indonesian food, and I don’t know what’s good, I stroll past all the places till I find the most populated one. I find one, and a waiter hands me a menu with (thankfully!) pictures on it. 90% of them are fish, and not just fish, but fish heads, I have yet to try fish head, and am not too eager to try it for the first time at this point. I try to ask the guy what he recommends, and he looks at me blankly, then brushes his hand across all the dishes on the menu, which I assume means either, “they’re all good!” or “try them all!” I hand the menu back and thank him. I head to the second most populous place, and ask what the waiter recommends, not really expecting an answer I can comprehend. To my shock, he speaks English and recommends a dish called Nasi gepuk, it’s a beef dish, and since it aint fish head, it looks pretty appetizing. Warning: food porn ahead!

Nasi gepuk with fresh mango juice

Close up shot of the sexxxy beef!

It was delicious, I felt a bit of a fool sitting alone as I snapped shots of my food as the wait staff looked on…but oh well, lah! The beef was savory and tender and filled my mouth with a smoky garlic and onion flavor, the rest of the dish consisted of rice, a strange triangular shaped bean patty, a dab of chili sauce and a garnish of tomato and cucumber. I pretty much just had the beef, it was great on it’s own.

Now that I’ve done all the touristy things Batam has to offer (shopping..eating), it’s time to head back. Not excited. I’m a bit early for the ferry so I wait in the lounge, which is just rows of cold, metal seats in a cold room, making me cold. After about 10 minutes, a group of Indonesian or Malay looking men arrive with a butt load of bags. They pile them all up 2 feet away from me. I don’t think much of this till the men leave, I mean they just left the bags in the lounge unattended! My radar starts going crazy because I immediately think there are bombs in every one of those bags. There are about 40 people in the lounge now and no one seems to notice that there are unmarked bags sitting there by themselves. Slowly, I get up and head to the farthest extremity of the lounge, I can’t leave, because that would require me to go back through immigration, and I can’t get on the ferry yet, so I figure if I distance myself from the bags I might not get the full effect of the bombs. And on a side note, yes, I do think September 11, 2001 has left a negative impression on the minds of many Americans. Less than 10 years ago, I would not have blinked an eye over those neglected packages, but now, especially being in a Muslim country, I’m a little more wary. It’s not a great thing, it adds paranoia to my travels. Well, it turns out the bags weren’t bombs, at least not bombs that went off while I was around. Yippee.

The ferry was mercilessly empty, half the people in the lounge were waiting for another ferry, so I got an entire row to myself. This time, I sat in the very front of the ship (the bow?), thinking that perhaps the bumpiness is less bumpy up front. It didn’t make much difference. And after carrying my beach towel around for hours, I was thankful I had it cause it was freezing inside!

Not the best picture of me, but this is the face of someone happy to be going back to Singapore!

Well, like I said, it was an experience, and that’s what I’m all about. It was cool to go there for a day, but don’t think I’ll go back, unless someone goes with me! Any takers? We can make up dialogue for the Indonesian dramas they show on the ferry and frustrate cabbies by demanding them to take us to casinos that don’t exist….good times!

And here, Bryan, I snapped this especially for you:

This is not another emo-Jackie entry. No, this one is about being the black sheep of the family, and though it has carried some negative, ok, A LOT of negative press with it. I felt inspired to write about the benefits of aforementioned dark sheep.

I’m the “baby” of the family, it’s just me and and my sis, no other siblings - but I milked that title for all it was worth. When I was in first grade, my mother gave me five bucks to see a play with my class. I don’t know if five bucks is a big deal to six-year-olds anymore since their ps3’s or 4’s or 5’s are worth 20 times more than that, but it was big frikkin’ deal to me. I remember the words of my doting momma, “Be very careful with that money, Jackie! When you get to school give it to your teacher - don’t forget, ok?” Ok.

When I arrived at school, I saw Chelsea and Lana and raced over to my friends to hear them dish some grade school gossip; what My Little Pony did Chelsea have now? Who did Lana see holding hands with a boy - yuck!- in the quad? Amongst all the hubbub I forgot that I needed to give my teacher, Mrs. Clarke, my play money. And when the bell rang, and we had all assembled into our candy-colored plastic seats, Mrs. Clarke asked for our money. I pulled at my waterproof backpack adorned with chinese characters, bad English grammar and happy, bouncing cartoon characters to get the dough. I had zipped it into a small outer pocket and when I looked, the money, which was the largest amount I had ever possessed in my life thus far, was gone! I unzipped all of the little zippers in my pack and still came up empty. All the students had handed in their money except me. Mrs. Clarke came over to me and asked me in her syrupy sweet voice where my money was. I turned to her, tears flying across my round cheeks and told her I lost the money. She said it was alright, and we’d find a way to get me to see the play.

I did get to see the play and paying five bucks to see sock puppets galavant across a makeshift stage is nothing compared to seeing sock puppets galavant across a makeshift stage for free!

The rest of the day at school was a blast, I ran around the playground with Lana, Chelsea and her new My Little Pony, played hopskotch, ate M&M’s and drew pictures of the puppet show in class. When I arrived home, my mom took one disappointed look at me, and the waterworks began. “I put the money in my backpack…” (gulping for air) “I don’t know what happened…” (more gulping) “I took care of it, I swear….”

Then my mom does something completely unexpected, but relieving, to me at least. She turns to my sister and says, “You should have watched out for your little sister!” My sister, who’s only about 20 months older, looks up at my mom, aghast, “But, how could I? We’re not even in the same class!” “Still, you should look out for your little sister.” My sister was enraged…how unfair!

That was a nice day…well, for me.

This is but one example of how I got away with crap from birth till about - oh, high school. My sister seemed always to blame for my mishaps. Those days are gone, leaving a black sheep with benefits, just a black sheep. Doh!

I have been away…and I am sorry.

I’m sitting in the weltering night heat of Singapore at my grandfather’s house, alone, while my grampie snoozes. It’s 11:07pm. The TV is set on local news, and I am on my laptop, procrastinating meeting my cousin at a bar at Vivo City. Not that I don’t want to meet her, I love my cousin. I’m sitting here whilst melting in this heat and am being hit with the slow, steady realization that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

It’s a sobering, scary thought, and even if I were surrounded by people, I would still feel just as alone. It’s one of those moods that set you into a state that forces you to analyze your life. I hate that. And the more I ponder, the more my mind tells me to shut down, the more it says “Ok, a drink at the pub sounds wonderful.” ..for tonight. And then for awhile, all will be well. But then the feeling will hit again. Oh, I’m not saying I’m depressed or even chemically imbalanced, I don’t think, I believe I’m settling into a common disease of people my age; the quarter life crisis.

So, yeah…the whole shut down thing…my very own defense system so I don’t have to look too much at the issue…don’t have to look too hard at myself.

Oh yeah, what am I doing in Singapore? You see, I’ve quit my job in Malaysia. Hence the “what the hell am I doing with my life?” ponderings.

This month I gave in and registered for Facebook - and despite myself, got a little addicted and added way too many applications, then deleted a bunch, and added more. I found lots of people from high school, many I hadn’t seen since graduation in 1999 - and found that half of them were either married or engaged. I’ve complained about this in past entries and dammit I’m complaining about it again! I would feel less unaccomplished, and less insecure about the outcome of my life if everyone I knew would stop getting their masters degrees, successful, high profile jobs, getting proposed to, and popping out babies….just stop doing things that cause change!

The older, er, I mean the more mature I get, the more I want to revert back to my childhood. Bills, insurance, rent, paying for groceries, these were all things that were alien to me 10 years ago. But I don’t want to be 16 again, no, I want to be 5. My biggest dilemma back then was getting my dress muddy, but even that wasn’t a dilemma. I finger painted apples and rainbows…I made weed flower bracelets, necklaces and rings…I sang Miss Mary Mack as I slapped my friend’s hands…I ate copious amounts of sugar and fat while never gaining an ounce…I broke things (accidentally, most of the time) and rarely got in trouble since I was “just a kid”…what a life!

So, if anyone knows a time machine that can take me back to the year 1986 and my 5 year old body…please contact me immediately. Thanks.

I found this video on youtube. A rapist is caned 20 times in Malaysia. It’s a six minute film and I winced all the way through. Watch at your own discretion, but I warn you, it’s very graphic. My personal opinion on this is that I feel he got what he deserved because rape is pure evil. After this, however, I started feeling badly for him, he moaned and twitched as he received his punishment. It was also quite demeaning as he was stripped bare and caned on his ass, which was whipped into bloody mulch. Not pretty, but fair? I think so.

This also reminded me of my cousin in Singapore who has been caned for being late to his private school. I was in utter shock the first time I was told this, I definitely don’t think being tardy deserves a caning, if it did, I’d have an extremely sore tukus, too. Sure my cuz didn’t get 20 lashes, but even one lash seems extreme for not showing up on time. I hear only the boys get caned, which makes even less sense, punishments are doled out according to gender? As if caning would hurt a boy less?

The only frame of reference I have with these South East Asian customs is with America, and of course, this is just one example of the stark contrasts of the two regions.

Rapists. Drug Traffickers. Child Molesters. Cane away. But caning as disciplinary action in schools? It’s despicable.

Photo courtesy of Ecstagony.

Why must I always be the horse and you must always be the one dangling that elusive carrot in front of me? I just don’t understand, why do you display that sparkly, orange jewel before me, tempting me with it, forcing me to keep going and when I feel I am close enough to taste it…you yank it away? Am I to continue down this path with nothing to keep me going? How long can I possibly hold out? I’m tired…I’ve been walking for eons. I want to rest. I don’t want to participate in your cruel games anymore. I’ve had it, you hear? No more for me, I’m out!

Image courtesy of Silicon Valley Watcher

*And no, I am NOT talking about sex or inferring it in any way, shape or form… savvy readers ought to get this.

I’ve thought on the issue of hitting children for years now, though I don’t have my own, and my position on it is that I would not a raise a hand to my kids. However, I don’t find it wrong if a person decides to hit their children, if done in the right circumstances.

I heard a pastor on the radio explain once how he punishes his children. I think he had three, so when one acted up, he’d pull them aside, away from the rest of the family, ask the child what he thinks he did wrong and then explain why he was going to spank the child. He also made sure he did this after his own temper had settled so as not to let the spanking turn into abuse. I think that’s a good approach, but it scares the daylights out of me - so I think I’d have to find a husband that was anti-hitting as well.

Also, if someone does hit their kids, there’s also an age where it’s no longer acceptable, like say after 12. I don’t think it’s right for parents to still be spanking a 16-year-old. These are things that need to be settled in their childhood, because, supposedly, the spanking has adjusted the child well enough that they need not be hit anymore. Well, that’s the theory, I suppose.

I’m also a believer in positive reinforcement, and studies have actually shown that this method of encouraging works better than negative reinforcement.

I think hitting can too easily turn into abuse, and when that happens you only teach the child to fear you. If they do obey you, it’s only because they are afraid. And if I were a parent, I’d like my kids to respect me because I am firm but kind, not scary and abusive.

Okay, this is one of those ambiguous situations where I don’t know who was in the right, so I concluded that we were both in the wrong.

Here’s what went down:

I was in line at a book store in 1 Utama, a mall in Petaling Jaya, and I was next to pay. Unbeknown to myself, another cashier opened up a new register and beckoned the couple behind me to the counter. I watched the people behind me go up to the register with their purchases, the first thought that came to mind was “Ah, just let it go!” That’s my passive side that ruled in junior high and high school where I contented myself in being just another wallflower. But, being an adult now and being just fed up with taking people’s guff, even if it is a minor thing like cutting in line, I told the couple; “Excuse me, you just totally cut in front of me!”

The couple was a young Chinese pair consisting of a short, round woman and a tall, portly man with glasses. The man piped up, “Well, she (pointing to register lady) told us to come here!” And I bit back, “Well, I was next!” The man’s girlfriend remained silent, relying on her man to take the reins. So much the better, I can only take one person yelling at me. So he said, “Fine, go, just go then! What do I care? We have plenty of time!” And wanting to have the last word I said, “Calm down”, though not in a calm way. My face felt red hot, as it always does when I’m fuming. I plunked my Christmas CD onto the counter, handed over my money, took my receipt, glanced over at the man, and left.

My glance should not be mistaken for a glare, however. In my heart of hearts I wanted to reason with him, and I figured if I could look into his eyes one last time I could explain that I wasn’t really a bitch. I called him out because of the principle. Obviously, you saw me waiting in line, so it would stand to reason that the next person in line needs to be served, correct? But, he didn’t look back at me, and I figured this battle was over and there was no point in beating that dead horse (wow, those two cliches really work together!).

So Dude and Dude’s Girl, wherever you are, I am sorry for assuming you maliciously cut in front of me but I still believe you should have had the conscience to have offered me the next spot at the register. Yeah?

I just wanted to drive home the debate about the whole email vs. facebook issue. I found this email (from a yahoo account that is 11 years old!) in one of my mail folders dated seven years ago. It is from one of my old boyfriends(I was 19 at the time, he was 20), I’m posting it as an example of why I prefer email, because,  sometimes I like to look back on the past, not because I want the past again and definitely not because I want my old boyfriend. I look back on these memories fondly, and email has served as a memory keeper, neatly tucking away those moments, waiting patiently for me to dig them up again. Take that, facebook!

August 31, 2000

Hello Sweetie, 

I’m so happy you feel this way about me. I’m so sad
that I have to wait so long before we can see each other - u better go to
vegas cause if u dont who knows when we’ll be together next. NEways, i
included the pictures of the colors of the motorcycle that i’m gonna get.
I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get a honda vfr, its mainly between yellow and
silver. what do you think? U know, i might get a motorized scooter
temporarily until my insurance lowers so maybe I can drive local to go see
you. I’ll find out more about that soon. BTW I really miss u. just thought u
should know.

urs truly,

*Brandon (name has been changed) ;) 

Try not to puke now…

Can I vent to you about my increasing annoyance with all these social networking sites popping up like plagues? I do have Myspace, and when I first latched onto the craze last year - I was a late bloomer- I was pretty hooked. I spent hours looking up html codes, wallpapers, layouts, gifs, jpegs, whatever, just to make my page look really awesome. I ended up killing that account, even posting a bulletin board message entitled R.I.P Myspace in which I bid adieu to my love/hate relationship with the site. A few months after that, I came crawling back; but only to set up pages for my two doggies, which I occasionally use to message buddies (seriously!).

I SO do not heart you…Image courtesy of ga games.

Oh, how I miss those precious hours wasted on Myspace which I can never get back!

Some of my friends keep trying to pull me onto the Facebook bandwagon now, well, I’m not saying I won’t ever join…I just don’t feel it necessary, and when they regurgitate the same drivel about it being “such a convenient way to contact friends.” to this I reply, well, what about email? Email is pretty darn convenient, in fact, I’d rather get an email from a friend than someone ‘buying me a drink’ on facebook. And what do I care if your current mood is happy, horny or contemplative? My moods changes frequently, minute by minute, is it now a custom to advertise every facet of our lives and publish it online? - not like I do that on my blog- ahem…

Okay, okay, off my soap box now. Here’s an IM convo I had with a friend of mine trying to persuade me to join Facebook. This is a real conversation - I haven’t altered it in any way, except for correcting spelling mistakes.

[13:42] Friend: you should so get onto facebook,it’s a lot easier to maintain than myspace
[13:42] Friend: and a lot more fun.
[13:42] Friend: i hated myspace
[13:42] Me: I hate myspace too
[13:44] Me: correct me if I’m wrong but social networking is usually done face to face, granted myspace and facebook is more convenient than actually getting dressed, going out and spending money, but they all seem a lame excuse to actually hanging out! heh heh thats my two cents on the issue.
[13:44] Friend: but you’re in malaysia..
[13:44] Friend: eh?
[13:44] Me: yah true.
[13:45] Me: but I can email you, call you or IM you eh?
[13:45] Friend: facebook’s a lot easier to stay in contact, trust me, than IM or emailing.
[13:45] Friend: coz you can do smaller things than sitting down and writing whole emails
[13:45] Me: how difficult can emailing be?

…then we chatted about other stuff, then she brought it up again…

My hands hurt from typing…anyone on here ever heard of a phone?

[13:47] Friend: and facebook’s a lot easier to keep in regular contact en masse with people.
[13:47] Me: I just think I’m a little more heated on the myspace/facebook/friendster issue than most!
[13:48] Me: and my other friends keep bugging me, er, I mean asking me, to join facebook too.
[13:48] Friend: it’s because you live THERE and we live HERE.
[13:49] Me: the same friends that told me to join friendster when it came out and also myspace…
[13:49] Friend: it’s just a convenient way of keeping in touch with people. how big or small you want to make it is up to you.
[13:49] Friend: like, all my pictures are up there, so all my friends can view them, instead of having to email all my overseas friends individually and stuff.
[13:50] Me: yeah I see ur point… we’ll see
[13:50] Friend: were you addicted to myspace or something? you sound a little violently against it.
[13:50] Me: heh heh
[13:50] Friend: like you’ve been reformed.

If you want a reach me; email me, or better yet, if you were my REAL friend you’d fly to Malaysia to visit me!

*If you are one of the friends that has hounded me to join an inane social networking site, I am in no way bashing your beliefs —please do not take me too seriously, I still love you!

**And no, you don’t have to fly here in order to qualify for my friendship!

***Oh, and happy Thanksgiving! Please have an extra serving for me…since I can’t be there!

I’m far too lazy to post an actual entry today so here is an image for your eyes to feast on, forget the chicken feet! I took this while looking outside my dinky Southwest plane window at Burbank Airport. “Fly quietly”? Because you don’t want to disturb the baby jets, they need their rest!