Do you want to be in female magazine?

I'm always looking for girls who would love to appear in our pages for a small makeover or to test out a product/treatment. Two sections of the magazine specifically : Make Me Over (flip to our Beauty Advisor section) and Tries (flip to Beauty Beat..this is where the reader tests out a product and reviews it). Requirements? You really don't have to be model pretty, we feature 'real women' in these sections - just practice your best smile! Haha.

Interested? Drop me a comment here, or e-mail me at aainaa.bluinc@gmail.com and we'll go from there. Don't worry about seeming 'perasan' by wanting to participate, it's a good experience (especially if you get to try out a treatment worth a couple of hundred). If not, what's wrong in a once-in-a-lifetime experience of shooting for a mag?

Oh, and one teeny, tiny thing...shoots will be during a weekday, so if you don't mind taking a day off work or half day (presuming you are working) then awesome. Students are welcome too, I think the minimum age should be 17 or 18 though (unless you look matured).

SPREAD THE WORD, PEOPLE!

sloppy kisses!

Confessions of a Shopaholic

*Spoiler ahead!

To put it bluntly, this shopaholic thinks that the movie sucked. Halfway through, I felt trapped, my mind started wondering elsewhere and my hands were starting to twitch because all I wanted to do was just strip Isla Fisher off at least ONE item of clothing. I'm sorry folks, but I really didn't buy her 'adorable' personality which apparently infected everyone in the movie (she slapped a random man and got away with it, forgodsakes). Even the 'lesson' behind this movie failed to move me,not an inch. We're supposed to applaud her for paying her debt to Derek Smeath in coin jars? Sure, confronting you during a live talk show may seem a bit harsh, but hun, you've been avoiding him for months and months, one stupid excuse after the other, don't you think you had it coming anyway? Sigh.

All in all, the only part of the film I enjoyed was when she 'shake it like her mama gave her' and worked the fan on the dancefloor. That lasted for all of 3 seconds, by the way. To sum it up, this is one movie I would NOT see again, even if someone handed it to me on a silver plate in original DVD form and choked me with strappy Manolos. I think I like my fluffy chick flicks with at least a little substance, thanks.

Have faith

So, yesterday Yasir was on his way to pick me up from the office. And unfortunately, he drove into this god-awful, larger than life pothole. Then he picked me up, and as we were moving along, his radio started acting screwy, sometimes switching off on its own then on again. So at the traffic light, Yasir decided to turn his engine off, hoping magically that the radio would stop acting funky. Finally, he turned the engine on again, and what else should happen but it wouldn't start. Now, this little situation isn't a huge deal, of course....if not for the fact that we BOTH couldn't call out. I had lost my phone a few days earlier, so I was sans mobile, and Yasir's phone was barred because it had exceeded his limit.

So there we were, in the middle of a three-lane road, with cars honking at us and people shooting dirty looks. We were nowhere near a petrol station, let alone a car workshop. Yasir then tries pushing the car, but we were on an uphill road, so the car just rolled back down again. Great. Then I suggested we try asking for help; maybe borrow a cell phone from someone. Because our car had stopped near a traffic light,we could knock on someone's window and ask to borrow a phone when the light turned red. So Yasir then proceeds to step outside to ask for help (while lighting up a cigarette, of course) and he catches the attention of a motorist two metres away, by making exaggerated hand movements to signal that he wanted to borrow a cell phone. And the amazing thing is, this man (lets call him KS for Kind Stranger, shall we) straight away turns back and stops his bike to help us out. He then proceeded to get behind the car with Yasir and push the car to the side of the road, so we wouldn't be blocking other cars. He then handed his mobile phone to Yasir, who started calling Proton right away. So at this point, KS pops the hood without us asking and starts tweaking around with whatchamacallithowthehellshouldIknow and suddenly the car literally feels like it was 'brought back to life'. At this point I felt the angels from heaven looking down on us, and I swear KS was surrounded by a halo. I tried starting the car, and hey presto - it starts! Yasir then gets in the car to check things out, all the while still holding on to KS' handphone (I actually felt jumpy, scared that KS might have thought the whole our-car-broke-down was just a ploy to speed off with his Nokia), but KS looked perfectly calm as I called my mom to tell her to check in on us in 10 minutes should the car decide to be an ass and break down again.

Finally, when we were confident enough that Yasir's Gen-2 was nursed back to health, I thanked KS profusely, almost kissing his feet. He gave us a warm smile, shook Yasir's hand, said it really was not a big deal, got on his bike and rode off. It really may have not seemed like a big deal to anyone else, but to me, when you read the stories in the papers everyday and you're constantly reminded of how evil humans can get...a random stranger that goes out of his way to help you out of a tough situation reminds you that there is, after all, some good left in this world.

the disease

Why do clothes lose their 'magic' after you've worn them once? If I didn't have this illness, my bank account would be a gajillion times the amount it is right now. 

Sigh. 

A 'Dear diary' post

Dear diary,

I've got an event at The Palace of The Golden Horses today at 7.30 and I just KNOW I'm going to get lost. My sense of direction never fails to amaze me, because it's so SHIT. Every road seems like just another road. You've seen one road, you've seen 'em all, I say. I am always in awe of how people know their way around. All my friends and my boyfriend (especially) know not to ask me about directions to anywhere. This is why I need a chauffeur. Mental note to self : Must marry Multimillionaire so I can hire driver.

Anyway, I finished reading Confessions of a Shopaholic this morning. Yep, I am probably the only girl on the planet who did not read the whole Shopaholic book series when it was such a hit years ago. I decided what the hell and finally gave in to temptation. And guess what? I really didn't like the book. I mean, I like Chick Lits as much as the next ShoeWhore, but this book didn't do anything for me. Is it weird that I found Rebecca Bloomwood the most annoying girl on earth? Really, throughout the book I was just waiting for something interesting to happen! But no, the whole book goes on to describe her two-faced personality, and her out-of-control spending habits. Yawn. Am I the only one who finds her personality absolutely flaky? To those who liked the book, please don't take it to heart, as I'm sure there will be books I love which some of you find crap. So it's really up to what you like. Sad to say, I'm really not looking forward to the movie. I might watch it just to check out Patricia Field's crazy outfits, but I'm hoping it won't be much of a snoozefest.

Mariam called this morning around 7 something. Was nice to hear her voice, although I croaked throughout much of the conversation (apparently some people have 'sexy' morning voices - I just croak). I miss that kid. We talked about mortgages and marriage - the two 'M's which a while ago, we would never even dream of discussing. Next thing you know, we'll be discussing the two 'P's : Pregnancy and Puking. Hopefully not too soon though.

Alright, I've procrastinated long enough. I've got an article due in a few hours and I'm nowhere near finished. As I told Yasir, "It's okay, I'm Superwoman nyahahaha". Don't know if I believe myself though.

sloppy kisses,
`Aainaa

Ok, i suck.

I know I was supposed to continue the whole 'Phuket' whatnot, but I really can't be bothered. Especially after I've spent DAYS trying to upload pictures on to Facebook, I think I am way past even talking about the trip. Which brings me to this point.....hmmm. What exactly do I feel like blogging about? I was surfing the net a few minutes ago (yes, I do have work,it's not all parties and pillowfights at BluInc...although I did go around putting blue mascara on people..but checking out different websites felt more interesting and validating at that moment) and I clicked on this <----click please. I actually 'favourited' this website a while ago when I first stumbled upon it because the ongoing debate surrounding women's magazines has always been an interesting topic to me. As we all are well aware of (I'm sure) most feminists find women's magazines demoralising, patronising, idiotic fluff..or to put it simply, complete trash. I have a confession - I used to be one of them. Okay, maybe I'm being a tad dramatic - I didn't use to completely diss women's magazines, but during my years in Uni (when we had to analyse every single thing that moved or did not move) I wrote about women's magazines and how misleading and sometimes demeaning they were. So when I scanned through the posts in 'Glossed over' (see above link - if you haven't clicked on it, CLICK NOW la dey) it felt like I was reading my past assignment papers, without the grammatical errors and stupid ^*&%*#* referencing. I totally get this woman. It's like a sense of dejavu washed over me, and I feel that if she had marked my assignments she would have given me an A++++ with little gold star/rainbow stickers and named me her star student. Damn, why didn't she go to Melbourne Uni! Anyway, before I start daydreaming about the sushi in our Union House (the Cali rolls are like little pieces of heaven, I SWEAR), I know some of you must be thinking I'm two-faced. At this point, you must be going "Tsk tsk. That Aainaa is a hypocrite! She used to slag off women's magazines and now she's working for one? She should be ashamed of herself!"

Allow me to explain myself. Ever since I can remember, I have been a fan of magazines. As soon as my grubby little fingers were expert enough to flip the thin little pages over, I was reading 'em. Dolly during my teeny bopper years, right up to Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire, Cleo (the international editions mostly)..and yes I would occasionally read female. Anyway, when I was criticising these magazines - Australian magazines only, because I was studying in Melbourne - I was analysing every...single...line. I would nitpick titles, how sentences are phrased, skinny models (of course), topics, pictures, the cover..you named it, I criticised it. Just like the writer of Glossed Over. But why was I doing this? Because I was writing a frikking paper. I feel that feminists are a tad too emotional when it comes to this issue - why are they analysing every single word in a magazine when obviously, people know that glossies are purely for light reading and entertainment? Do you really pick up a magazine to find out who you are as a person? Do you see glossy reading material with Katie Holmes on the cover as some kind of self-help guide? Because if you do, then I really think something is wrong with YOU. Heck, when I was criticising these magazines, of course I knew I would find fault with them because I was honing down on every itty bitty little thing. Which is EXACTLY what our dear writer at Glossed Over is doing, isn't it?

She then goes on to state that the latest issue of Glamour is trying to reinforce a kind of "normal" that women should squeeze into, forcing unreasonable standards women everywhere should meet. Oh come on! Are you really THAT naive? Don't people already know to read magazines with a pinch of salt? How exactly is Glamour trying to force you to be someone else? Dude, it's a MAGAZINE. It's called "GLAMOUR" forgodsakes. Which is exactly what most magazines will offer you - an escapism from your normal, everyday life. At the end of the day, after a hectic and tiring day at work, wouldn't it be great to flop down on the bed and go "ooh" and "aaaah" over this season's gorgeous shoes or read about "Ten things men love in bed" and "Hey it's OK"? Of course there are some of you who prefer reading Shakespere rather than trashy tabloids, but who are we to judge other people's reading choices? If I want to kick back after a stressful day by reading a bloody cookbook, who are you to say I can't? And aren't magazines a form of entertainment, like movies? At the end of the day, when I'm tired with all the bullshit that's happening in the world, is it wrong for me to watch a brainless movie like The Anchorman? In an ideal feminist world, women's magazines would probably be filled with serious women's issues, straighforward headlines, and no pictures. EXACTLY the fun thing I want to read when I'm on the beach, getting a suntan.

My dear feminists, I think you should really give this whole 'women magazines are out to change women all over the world into brainless idiots' a rest. Because, if anything, I think YOU are insulting us women who actually find them harmless and entertaining. If you really think we are as wise as impressionable, pimply 13-year-olds who will do what a magazine tells us to do, then really, who is undermining women here? And come on, a lot of magazines (like female..ahem) really feature advice on financial, emotional, fashion and BEAUTY topics which we can all learn a thing or two from, without compromising our identity or turning into a dumble blonde. And for your information, as a writer in a magazine, we ARE supposed to make our headlines catchy or fun, so when we say "Copy Her Look" for example, we are not FORCING you to look like someone else, but rather merely stating where her lip gloss shade or sunglasses are from, should you be interested - all in three punchy words. Again, pinch of salt people.

Ok, I'm done. All this venting makes me want to flip through a magazine.

p/s: in case you can't click the link above, here's the url: http://www.glossedover.com/glossed_over/

That Glowy feeling

You know that look when you've just come back from a holiday and you feel like you've had a week of good sleep, your skin is radiating an 'I've-just-come-back-from-a-week-in-paradise' glow, there's a bounce in your step and you smell of yummy sunscreen?

Well, I looked nothing like that.

In fact, as I trudged into the office the very next day I got back from Thailand, I had bags under my eyes, my skin was a dull dishrag colour and it looked like something that was possibly electrocuted had died on my head. Word of advice - DO NOT go to work the very next day after a holiday. Take a day off to recuperate, at least. You will NOT look like Little Miss Sunshine. Anyway, funny story - remember I told you I was going to post pics up? I was all geared up to take a zillion pics with my trusty ol' camera, and guess what?? I left it in the car, on the way to the airport. *cue applause*

Buuut I'm not one to go back on my promise (only when there's a 70% sale involved do I make exceptions), so I'm bumming pics from some of my friends' cameras. By the way, this post won't really be too exciting, because I'm in a rush - my cousin is breathing down my neck to hurry the fuck up. Long explanations of the trip will come in a later post! So here we go, my trip in 2 minutes :



Who needs Diva when you've got nature? Be creative people, all you need are a couple of leaves (going green is all the rage now), tali rafia and scissors. Tie string around leaf, cut off extra string and voila! Environmentally chic and cheap. Betcha some of you didn't know Phuket was actually for a company trip. Our trip's theme was Survivor, so that explains our Orang Asli accessories. And we even danced to Survivor too, no pics though (thank god).

Okay, my cuz is bugging the hell outta me to get off the comp. (Ju if you're reading this, you SUCK). Looks like 2 minutes was more of 1 minute. Soz!

Till next time.

post-holiday sloppy kisses!

Off to Phuket!

So the whole drama with my passport is finally over. I cannot explain to you the overwhelming feeling I got when they handed me a brand spanking new one, its shiny red cover beaming under the harsh fluorescent light. Granted, I look like an Indon maid in this new passport, but it's only slightly uglier than my Philippine maid impersonation in my old one, so that's okay. And I think God must have felt how relieved I was, because as I got into my car to drive off and proceed to leave a cloud of dust behind, We Are The Champions came on the radio. Of course I cranked it up and warbled my heart out, letting the overwhelming sense of accomplishment wash over me. If I can handle losing my passport, going to Imigration for 3 days, running around like a chicken that's lost its head, harassing officers via phone calls, coping with "Duduk dulu...duduk dulu" and finally, FINALLY getting a new one done in a week despite all odds, then I, `Aainaa bte. Yahya, can accomplish anything.

Anyway, this is a promise to post up pics when I get back. If I don't, I give you permission to say I suck. In the meantime, here is a pic of Phi Phi Island (which I will be going to, ahem) for you to feast your eyes on.


Don't hate me. Heh heh.

sloppy beachy kisses!

p/s: special shout out to my man who had to wake up at 6am to keep me company during the whole Passport situation. I belanja sushi what..orait la tu :P

The case of the missing passport

My passport has been MIA for a couple of months now. I would like to think it's off traveling to Egypt to check out the pyramids, suntanning in the Caribbean, making out with some French hottie in Paris or shopping for fabulous finds at Barneys in New York. Well, whatever shenanigans it may be up to, if ever I see its scrawny, bumpy red ass, I would give it the sharpest slap, drag it by its cover, and shout, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, DISAPPEARING ON ME LIKE THAT?? YOU LITTLE SLUT!!!!! YOU WHORE-Y, BITCHY LITTLE PASSPORT! NOW SIT HERE LOCKED UP IN THIS DRAWER SO I KNOW WHERE TO FIND YOU!!!!"

I know, pretty harsh. But that's what you get for making me spend HOURS at Immigration this morning.

Fucker.

Pic of the week (haha)

My attempt at putting up pics on this blog - Nadia's 26th birthday at Hard Rock, on a workday! From left - Shaz, Hirda, Yours Truly, Birthday Girl Nadia. Can't believe we're 26th this year! Here's to many more fabulous adventures to come ;)

...and the battle rages on.

I'd like to let off a little steam here. I'm 26 this year,right? So why does my skin still INSIST on behaving like a horny teenage boy's? Just this morning I woke up, looked into the mirror and stared at an offending-looking zit on my cheek staring right back at me. I suppose it decided to keep the other pimple on my forehead company. How sweet. If I could write my skin a letter, here's how it would sound like:-

Dear skin,

Hey, how are you? Not so good, I imagine. What with all the breaking out you've been doing. I mean, really? How long has it been now - over 12 years? You must be really, really tired. I know we haven't been the best of friends, I've fought you tooth and nail everytime you decided it's time for another batch of zits just for funzies..I've slapped on almost every product available out there in the market for acne-prone skin - Proactive (the one Jessica Simpson swears her short Daisy Dukes by), antibiotics, tea tree oil...lord knows what other chemicals I've smothered you in. But you would always win, you're a fighter when it comes to making me miserable. Remember this one time I almost wanted to scrape you off with my fingernails because I was breaking out so bad and I didn't want to go out of the house? It was Hari Raya forgodsakes - all the new clothes I put on couldn't drown out my frustration with you. It didn't help that my relatives would go "Ni kuat berangan ni!" or the more tactful "Eeeee banyaknya jerawat!" when I came to salam them. Very frustrating times indeed, I must say. I really just wanted to live under a rock! Then there were phases where you insisted on two or more portruding pimples after the other, and my self-confidence was crushed. I couldn't leave the house without foundation and concealer on, even if it was just a short trip to the grocers. You must have been laughing your head off with glee every single time I broke down!

Then, someone told me about going to a dermatologist. I knew it would cost a shitload of money, but I was desperate. So I went. And I swallowed pills. And then IT WAS MY TURN to laugh in your face, because you finally had to stop your evil ways. You actually behaved!! I was ecstatic, finally I didn't have to look down at my shoes when talking to someone! FINALLY I could wake up in the morning, and a monstrous pimple wouldn't have grown viciously overnight! FINALLY I got my self-confidence back! But it wasn't cheap taming you and keeping you from going back to your evil ways - it took thousands and thousands just to keep you clear. And after a few years, I knew I couldn't keep spending that kind of money, so I stopped taking those 'magical' pills.

And here we are, skin, just you and me - back to square one. It's been a long, hard battle between the both of us, after all these years. 12 years is a bit ridiculous even for a feud, don't you think? The pills have long worn off, and you're slowly starting to go back to your usual ways. True, you may be a bit mild-mannered than before, but my forehead is still breaking out, and of course, there's that occassional zit on my cheek. I really don't know when you'll tire of it all, and sometimes I feel like that day will never come. Which, when you think about it, is fucking scary. Look, be sensible here - I'm a Beauty Writer; I don't think it would be cool to meet clients with a pimply face, would it? So listen, why don't we be friends and put our past behind us? What say you let me move on with my life and concentrate on actually acting like an adult? I'm not saying you should start giving me wrinkles now (LORD NO), but you know...it would be nice if you gave me a break already, and maybe I'll give you a break. Thanks, I really really appreciate it. If you behave, I'll even start treating you to expensive facials. I promise. Friends?

Yours in good health,
'Aainaa

p/s: While we're at it, could you talk to Hair and tell her not to be so frizzy? Appreciate it.

25 random things

Ok, so I know everyone on facebook is doing this thing, and I've done mine, but I didn't really give it much thought (wrote it in 5 minutes!), so I felt like re-doing it all over again. Have no idea what I'm going to write, but should be (remotely) interesting. I'm still sticking with the whole 'random' bits of info, so don't expect this post to be life changing. Haha. Here goes:-

1) I can't wait for my hair to grow long. I used to have hair which went down to my armpits, poker straight too - now it's always slightly shorter than shoulder-length. Time for a changeeee!

2) I can't really stand Malay acting. But I can do the intonation really well though (you know, their voice intonation where everything they say sounds reaaaaaalllyyy natural and convincing)- I do a mean 'Malay-mengada-wife' who calls her husband 'abang' and pouts like a fish.

2) One time when I was little, I stole cotton balls from a torn bag in a pharmacy. They were so fluffy and colourful, I thought they were like unedible pieces of cotton candy and I HAD TO HAVE THEM.

3) Boys used to love chasing me around the classroom in kindergarten. I thought that was quite cool.

4) I mostly shave my legs in the car.

5) When my cat sleeps on me, I'll do whatever it takes not to move and wake him/her up. My legs and arms would cramp up, but I'll stay in that position as long as my cat's comfortable.

6) I just googled "Garden wedding planning" 5 minutes ago. Yeppp.

7)I think the ghosts in Pacman are mean, cunning son-of-a-bitches!!

8) I once almost fainted after they took my blood for a blood test. I started getting all lightheaded and sweaty - I can't accept the fact that my blood is unwillingly being sucked out from my vein.

9)Oh, once in std. two, I almost fainted when we sang the "...tanah tumpahnya darahku" line in Negaraku. I think it was because I imagined blood spilling all over on to the ground.

10)I can be very graphic when it comes to my imagination.

11) I used to have very smelly feet when I was young. The cute guy who worked in a shoe store once took off my shoes and scrunched up his nose. I knew then I needed to get help - thank god I stopped wearing sneakers.

12) I've lived in three haunted houses.

13) I'm more tolerant of public burps now. I used to giggle hysterically whenever anyone around me used to let out a burp. Once, my BM tutor burped loudly when he said "Ti-tik" and I couldn't stop laughing until the end of that lesson.

14) When I laugh hard, my nostrils flare. And according to Yasir, I laugh like an Arab man.

15) I never burp. I don't really know how to.

16) I like singing random songs in a Disney Princess voice, particularly Snow White's. I think my fairytale rendition of Paramore's "That's what you get" is fantastic.

17) I was proud when I got my first period. I felt like I was 12-years-old going on 20. I remember showing my stained undies to my best friend Zara in our school toilet and grinning like mad when she confirmed I was indeed, now a woman.

18) The filling in my back tooth from my root canal has fallen out since middle of last year. I still have a huge hole there and I always gargle after a meal so food doesn't get stuck. Wow, that's pretty disgusting!

19) I love pretending I'm a mermaid when I'm swimming and I'm the most graceful creature on earth.

20) I'm going to have a son called Ayden one day. And I'm toying with the name Delailah for my daughter, because they both go so good together. I imagine myself introducing them to people all the time. Me at a kid's birthday party: "This is Ayden and Delailah. Salam uncle! Salam! SALAM MAMA CAKAP!!"

21) When I first get married, I'll be calling my husband 'abang' just to annoy him. And pouting when I say this.

22) My excercise when I'm feeling fat : 5 leg lifts on each side and I'm done.

23) Right now I'm worried because I have an Elseve advertorial to start on and I don't have a clue what it will be about!! And I still haven't found someone to test out this frikkin DIY haircolouring thing! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

24) I have this strange tendency to eat food that has passed its due date.

25) My favourite thing in the universe is when I receive comments on my blog. At least I know I'm not talking to myself?

sloppy kisses!

Yippeeeee!

Yours truly is now officially a Beauty Writer for female magazine! Bring out the (non-alco) bubbly!

sloppy Beauty Writer kisses!

Another shout out!

...to my homegirl Shikin, for texting me this morning saying she read my 'sirih' post and that she's been following my blog since Day 1 - and all this while I had nooo idea. Yay to Shikin! :D

p/s: I believe it's the other way round - YOU made my gloomy Monday morning, darling.

sloppy kisses!

My mom on meeting a husband

So this morning I was watching American Idol auditions (for some strange reason they weren't showing the usual re-run of Friends..damn you starworld! You have messed with the order of my universe!) and my mom walks in and hands me a plate, with some sort of leafy thing on it.

"Eat this. Cepat sikit jodoh," she orders.

I grunt and roll my eyes. "What is that thing?" I mumble.

"Sirih. Just eat it, and baca doa cepat jodoh. Mama jumpa ustaz semalam. Dia tolong baca," she says irritably.

I take the plate gingerly and look at the sirih, like it's some sort of voodoo thing and it will jump at me and bite me.

"Minum ni," she hands me a cup.

"What in the world is that pulak?" I ask incredulously.

"Minum and baca doa cepat jodoh. Dengar cakap mama!"

I take the cup and peek inside it. It looks like normal, clear water. Phew.

"Ok bye ma," I say, signalling my mom to leave me so I can watch a girl in a pink top and cowboy hat warble her heart out in front of Simon, Paula and Randy. I place the plate on my lap and am still holding the cup.

"Doa `Aainaa, doa! Cepat jodoh!" she says again.

I swear, if I hear the word 'cepat jodoh' one more time...I think to myself.

"Yes ma, I'll do it in a bit!" I look at her, annoyed. Finally after we exchange stares for what seemed like an hour of my life I'll never get back, she leaves.

I slowly pick up the leafy thing and nibble around the edges. Ok, not so bad, I can do this. I take a bigger bite, and hit the middle part. It felt like I had just swollen a chunk (if it had chunks) of Minyak Cap Kapak. I grab at the cup and gulp down what was in it, rush to the kitchen to grab a handful of cereal and shove it in my mouth to drown out the taste. NASTY NASTY NASTY!

Moral of story: Good ol' fashion networking is a better way to meet men rather than chew on nasty-as sirih. And if you already have a boyfriend, bug his ass so he proposes. This method may prove to be far more effective and doesn't require you frantically ransacking your fridge for something to mask the Minyak Cap Kapak taste which will probably take you a lifetime to forget *shudder.

If all else fails, have some gum at hand. Strong gum.

This is a happy post # god knows, who's counting?

In stuffy, cant-breathe sinus-y times like these and when the world is in turmoil, I look to these little things that may seem so insignificant to some but give me that warm, fuzzy feeling :-

- Looking up at the stars on a breezy night.

- A shoulder to cry on when I'm sobbing away at a sad scene in a movie.

- My cat Dots kissing me when I say "Nak kiss!" to him.

- Secret Recipe's Caramel cheesecake. Had it for Datuknenek's anniversary and it was bananas.

- Aldo shoes at 70% off. I sleep, eat and shower in them.

- Watching Scrubs on DVD the whole of Saturday with The Boyfriend and generally being lazy bums.

- The latest addition to my cat family, tiny lil' Skater :) Found him by the side of the road, sitting all alone. He loves biting my fingers and I love him to death.

- Watching two episodes of Friends while eating cereal, before showering and heading off to work.

- Movie night at Maine's, with KFC.

- Grabbing tabloid magazines and pouring over them one by one in a corner of MPH or Times. Best guilty pleasure ever!

sloppy kisses,
`Aainaa

Let go

If you've been following my blog (If you haven't, go back a few months and read "Daddy dearest"), then you'll know that my biological father aka That Man divorced my mom when I was ten because of another woman. You'll also know that it's been years since I've heard from him and he's not exactly your typical, doting father. What I'm about to write is actually long overdue. I've been ignoring it for years, and it's crossed my mind from time to time, but I've always refused to acknowledge it. I've realised that it doesn't matter how successful/good/awesome you are..if you come from a dysfunctional family, it subconsciously affects how you handle your relationships, one way or the other. What I'm trying to say is, if your parents have had a bad relationship at one point, it's almost always bound to affect how you handle YOUR relationships.

See, my ex boyfriends would all agree with me when I say I'm a bit bossy (ok, maybe a lot bossy) as a girlfriend. I'm not the "Don't wear this, Don't say this" type of bossy, but I tend to 'test' my boyfriend every now and then. I overanalyse. I find myself being dramatic, while a part of me screams "What the hell are you doing??", I can get upset over the smallest things, like when a boyfriend doesn't think to buy Vicks for me when I can't breathe. This is the typical thought process:-

I have stuffy nose and can't breathe -> Boyfriend doesn't automatically think of buying Vicks even when he sees I have trouble breathing = me thinking he doesn't care that I am miserable with said stuffy nose, and ultimately doesn't give a rat's ass about my well being in general = eventually he'll turn into monster crap husband a few years down the road, just like That Man and one day decide to pack up and leave.

I have a very distinctive pattern with all my exes. I test them over and over again, to see how much they love me, how much they're willing to go through for me. And after I do all that, I'll repeat the whole vicious cycle. And all because of one reason - I've seen how my mom and That Man were together, her hanging onto his every word, playing the part of the perfect wife. He left her anyway. I know everything happens for a reason, but deep down, I am petrified. And because I'm so determined to not go down that same road, I've developed this subconscious need to analyse, nit-pick the littlest details and shy away from commitment. My relationships are never short of drama - without realising it, I'll do everything I can to fuck it up.

I've come to realise that my quest for the perfect man, everything That Man never was will always get in the way of me being completely happy in a relationship. There's no such thing as The Perfect Man. There's no such thing as a Super Boyfriend who will do NO wrong - boyfriends are humans, and they will mess up from time to time. And isn't that what unconditional love is all about? Loving one another no matter how imperfect they are? I'm trying my best to let go of my demons, and let down this invisible wall that's been up so long, so I can stop protecting myself from getting hurt, but instead know the one I'm with will not hurt me. I have to tell myself that just because I have an awful father, not all men will turn out to be like him. Most importantly, I'll have to let go of my insecurities and learn to trust that my heart is in good hands.

To Yasir, thank you for the Vicks, and I'm sorry I cried in the car on the way to work this morning just because you didn't think of buying it for me before. I am slowly but surely trying to improve myself because I would like to keep you in my life. Please be patient with me, I'll get there one day..

I love you sayang.

Apparently I'm "Wild Sexy".

You Are Wild Sexy

You are sexy because you are always up for a fun fling. You're sexually open and assertive. You know what you want, and you're going to get it. You are a very physically attractive person. You take care of your body. You are attracted to other gorgeous people - and you don't care if that's shallow. You don't have many sexual hang ups or issues. You simply enjoy sex. You are adventurous and open to new experiences. You experiment freely.

What's Sexy About Your Name?

Hmmmm

Your Dress Says You're Classically Stylish

Your Personal Style: Modern and simple. You like clothes to accentuate who you are, not overwhelm you. Your Ideal Wedding: A small ceremony at an old church with a beautiful flower garden Your Philosophy on Marriage: You can have a deep commitment without marriage. It's only a piece of paper. Your Perfect Marriage: Simply loving each other a little more every day

The Wedding Dress Test

Your Little Black Dress Says You're Cosmopolitan

You are elegant, classy, and sophisticated. You know how to turn heads when you enter a room... and then keep people interested with your witty banter. Your style is classic, tailored, and flawless. You don't fall for silly fashion trends. If you were a shoe, you would be: Classic black pumps

The Little Black Dress Test

UGH!

Why does my family treat me like I'm a high school kid?? I'm a 25-year-old working woman forgodsakes!!

Sigh.