A Typical F*cked-up Friday

Here I am sipping my Cranberry Cooler, right after savouring a Caesar salad and cream of mushroom soup at Dome Cafe, Bangsar Shopping Complex. Somewhat uplifting, considerably healthy meal, as opposed to the roti jala and nasi lemak I had last night for dinner. I am here just pondering about the day. To tell you the truth, it’s been a pretty fucked-up day. Can’t find a appropriate adjective to properly describe it. Think I’ll stick to the tried-and-tested and simple ‘fucked-up’. Call this limitation of vocabulary. Or linguistically-challenged. Anyways, this quiet meal alone is kind of like a more positive, relaxing end to a somewhat gloomy day up till now.

The day started bright and early, with J beside me. She was the last thing I saw as I shut my eyes last night and the first thing I saw when I opened my chinky pair of corneas this morning. It was wonderful to have spent the night with my sayang, right before her company trip to Phuket. We made it a point to spend some quality time together since she’ll be away for the weekend – basking in the sun in her bikini, feasting her eyes on the tanned six-packed hunks and consuming generous amount of Mekong whisky.

Work started alright I guess, mixture of boredom, some productivity with the CD-ROM project I am doing for a international hotel, a revised ad and a new campaign for a property developer thrown in for good measure, some major troubleshooting and technical support for a colleague’s Mac (which happens to be a spanking new PowerMac G5 2Ghz dual processor, yums!) and the usual catching-up with ups and downs at Zerotohundred and PPS.

Stuck. In the middle of nowhere.
Despite being slightly (an understatement, naturally) brain-dead – call it the ‘pre-weekend syndrome’; and preoccupation with my colleague’s G5 (I was frantically trying to recover her address book which I had mistakenly deleted when moving her account from Microsloth Entourage to Apple’s Mail) The latter part of the day was spent thinking about the property campaign which I was so stuck at. Even my copywriter was frank in saying he hadn’t thought about any new concepts and that it would all end up the same old, same old crap at the end of the day. For once, I think, I agreed with him. Totally.

Issues, issues and more issues. Pass me tissues.
The fun started when I was called in by my bosses for a private chat in the conference room. From their expressions and gestures, I could sense it wasn’t good. It was long overdue, but unexpected. Appraisal time, folks. What’s funny was that I got a salary revision months before the evaluation, which is quite out-of-the-norm. Perhaps they trusted me, or perhaps they were just complacent. But whatever the case, the traditional “How do you feel about the Company?”, “How is work?” attempted to break-the-ice. Formulaic almost. I didn’t have much to say, instinctively expecting less shallow, more life-threatening questions. In summary it wasn’t all bad, but some rules were laid out. The highlights were the punctuality issue. The freelancing issue. The PowerBook issue. The leadership and team issue.

Wake up, godammit!
All of which I had already come to expect. Remained calm and answered as diplomatic and honest as I could. Punctuality had always been an issue, especially with my lady boss and I think what worsened the situation was my frequent self-inflicted half-day attendance of late. What’s funny is that they were never caused by my involvement with any freelance work, which they suspect I am involved in. My sleeping habits (or rather, inability to wake up in the mornings, on time!) have been erratic recently. Contrary to popular belief, the live-wire Vernon does get tired from time to time, and that extra 30 minutes of shut-eye helps me get through the day. I find it uncanny that I could be early for four days a week, but she only notices me on the day that I am late. Go figure.

Being free…
The freelance question thrown at me was parried, but not denied. I did not deny that I did not do any freelancing, and any freelance (when I ever had the time) was done in my own time, using my own equipment. To expect designers not to be freelancing is quite unrealistic. I personally have yet to meet a designer who doesn’t freelance, or at least haven’t ever freelanced, in their entire career. Impossible. It’s the nature of the trade, whether you make money out of it or not. Freelancing is rampant, it’s healthy when done right and ethically. I stressed my commitment to the Company in which I give my 100%, unaffected by whatever I do on the outside of the office in my own time. I reiterated that I would make a bigger effort to be punctual. As one of the seniors, it was again stressed that a good example be set in terms of punctuality and performance. For all it’s worth, I do agree.

Water and oil. Don’t mix. Can’t mix.
From the issue of freelancing, my trusty PowerBook was brought into light. It was quite a silly question to ask, “Why do you bring your PowerBook to work and what do you do with it?”. I explained that I separate what’s personal (emails, downloads, yada yada in my PowerBook) from work (company projects, work email and yada on the office PowerMac). Makes sense doesn’t it? It not only helps organise my working and personal life, but also keeps my office Mac trim and free from personal crap! But oh no, they would have none of that. Result – PowerBook banned from the office. If I do decide to bring it in, it would have to remain shut, in sleep mode or kept in the bag.

Anti-antagonistical antagonist.
I accepted it without a single antagonising remark, truly untypical of the rebellious me. I can sometimes surprise myself, given my ‘unsurprisable’ nature, I’d say it’s pretty spectacular. Never one to abide by the rules, not especially those deemed unnecessary and bothersome – like timesheets for example, I was surprisingly (it’s that word again!) docile. Not a whimper. Nothing. Force field disabled. Anti-aircraft guns disengaged. Heh.

I am a crow. So shoot me.
To top off the ‘appraisal’ so-called, my leadership qualities or lack of, was questioned. Me – MIA Graphic Design Club president, former captain of the school’s soccer and volleyball team with honours, former captain of the Miri and Sarawak tennis team with honours. Questioned. Hmm… what’s going on? Beyond questionable doubt, that was the past, but hey, does account for something right? Could it just be the environment, not suited for a clear-cut teamleader and peon set-up? I questioned the system in place (or absence) and the traditional, usual way of things being done within the Company. The designers, mostly independent. Unsupervised. They do not need to be babysitted. I believe in thinking, working independently, not overly-reliant on others to get things done, although delegation and workload-sharing is essential on bigger projects. I was, as a result of questioning the system, shot down. Like a crow shot to bits by pellets from a shotgun. Blown to smithereens, broken wings and all.

Come together…
I was then led to believe that the other team was ‘more together’, despite the fact that realistically, since their projects usually involve annual reports do require massive amounts of togetherness to ensure everything goes like stink! Frankly, the same can’t be said about my team of 5, which has projects as diverse as the flora and fauna in the tropics. One’s doing a whole campaign on beverage, one is a campaign on property development, one’s on a greeting card rampage, and another’s on a website and annual report. All aligned somehow, but all independent. I relish the variety and depth of our team’s work, but here it is, teamwork and leadership being questioned. I heard words like ‘demotion’, ‘senior designer’, ‘designer’ and ‘perhaps better’ lumped up in the same sentence. I wasn’t deeply impressed by that statement. Sure sounded a whole lot like a threat. Head on chopping board? Hmm..dunno, but close. I realised then that it was either show some ‘visible to the bosses’ eye’-type of leadership qualities from today onwards, or literally ship out.

Me. Flawed. Imperfect.
At the end of it, I came to realise that there was some truth in their concerns. There ARE certainly aspects of me that can and needed tp be changed and improved. Starting with punctuality and time management. And leadership skills. I chose to see the constructive, positive aspects of the meeting. I didn’t completely agree to what was remarked, but I found some truths and glaring weaknesses within myself, which I need to address for the betterment of flawed moi. I walked out of the room with a dark cloud over my head, but not quintessentially negative.

For what it’s worth, short of hanging one by the balls and pulling nostril hair with a plier, self-realisation backed by brutal honesty is the finest of motivation.

The 90-minute wait.
Waitaminnit. A 90-minute wait you say? That is totally unprecendented. To wait for someone you’ve never met for that long? This, I think, a trait for someone who has incredible patience, or just plain stupid. Dunno, you decide. I was kind of looking forward to meeting this stranger, a female visitor from Sarawak (my adopted home state for some years!) this whole week. This date that was set wasn’t romantic in nature (sorry, I am taken!), but more meeting a fellow Sarawakian kind of event. Like an old friend union type thing. So I looked forward to the date with zest, despite having a fucked-up day overall. But oh no, it would never turn out smooth would it? I waited at the Bangsar LRT. And waited. And waited. Called her, text-ed her. No replies, no return calls. Great. Fantastic. So I waited. My gastric juices were starting to build up at this point, causing some discomfort and I could tell that if I didn’t eat anytime soon, another bout of gastritis would set in. To make matters worse, I so needed to pee!

She only SMS-ed me to tell me she had arrived. At 9.30pm. I had just left the station, unimpressed, frustrated, hungry. All I wanted to do at that point was get home, take a piss, shower and have a nice quiet dinner, alone. I didn’t reply her messages until the next day. I did incidently, do all those things I mentioned, hence this post and meal at Dome. Saviour of the day. A quiet, unstressed hour of comfort food, WIFI and ‘me-time’. Some distractions offered via cutie chicks passing-by, though 🙂 Where do they come from, geez!

Well, if it’s any consolation to myself, I look forward to the weekend. Especially the track day at Sepang on Sunday. Yippee!

Anyways, never mind me – have a happy weekend, fellas!

I’ve got PMS… I mean NMS…

I hate it when my nose decides to run. I mean, I appreciate it being independent and all, but this is ridiculous. It could be that it’s allergic to the air-conditioning, or rather the crap that the clogged up air filter is coughing out. Hard to tell, but it seems so.

I am having what I call NMS – Nasal Menstrual Syndrome, a not-too-distant cousin of PMS. You know, the feeling of being absolutely irritated and edgy. Slightly differs in presentation though. Red in the nose, sometimes flushed cheeks, watery eyes. But mostly the ever-flowing juices from the nasal passages. Not a pretty sight, nor a pleasant aural experience. The generous amount of what appears to be wet tissues in the wastebasket is an indication of how bad it can be. And it’s pretty bad today.

Hope it gets better. *sniff*

Aarrghhh.

A Big Prayer for Little John

How does one react when he learns that a friend’s son, has been diagnosed with a brain tumour? I mean, how do you, really? When I was informed of this yesterday, I froze. Shocked, surprised. Myriad of emotions all fused into one lump in my throat.

And today, reality hit me again. I was in a sombre and sad mood. Talking about it with my bro (who informed me about it yesterday) made me realise how painful it must be for the immediate family – Agnes, Peter, Zane + Summer. I was suddenly just filled with sadness and tears welled up in my eyes. I snapped out of it but only just.

John, went through a biopsy today. Hope it turns out well.

I wish I had better, more encouraging words to say but I don’t. I admit, I never do know. Not in times like this.

To the Gan family, you have my full support and my prayers.

Bashing – Malaysia’s National Sport

Bash. Figurative – criticise severely. Believed to have originated in the 17th Century, perhaps a blend of bang and smash, and dash. Today seemed to me like bang everything and everyone Monday. Or has it always been bang everything and everyone, everyday day?

Hard to say. It’s always amusing to be in a car forum, and a self-proclaimed ‘car enthusiast’ forum at that, to witness bashing after bashing, especially threads which contain keywords “Proton” and “Alex Yoong”. It’s quite sad, not because of the actual debate (which is healthy to say the least), but the amount of blatant bashing based on rumours, uneducated guesses, presumptions and baseless accusations.

Everyone’s favourite subject – Proton
Take for instance this and this. (note: thread link may not work due to removal by Autoworld moderators – cheers guys!) The original article was posted on The R3gister, one I set-up with another Satria R3 owner, solely as a resource site for Satria R3 owners – acting not only as a knowledge base but a point of meet and sharing. Being owners, we also share modification ideas and like many other car clubs/communities, share and list problems encountered with our cars. It is sad to see an overzealous forummer, copying and pasting the article in whole and using it as an avenue to again, bash Proton. As if there isn’t sufficient channels, even within the forum itself to do just that. Scout around Zerotohundred and it is littered with hundreds of them. Even Paultan’s blog is swarmed with anti-Proton comments. What is funny is that some of those articles were not about Proton in the first place!

My granny drives faster than Alex
It’s times like today when I truly question – where does all this angst towards Proton and poor Alex Yoong come from? Despite a credible effort in securing 5th place for Malaysia in the A1 Grand Prix over the weekend, Alex has been slagged off with comments like “5th place only?”, “My grandmother can drive faster!” and “…deserves no more than styling cream”. To be fair, the competitive Formula 1 GP certainly wasn’t Alex’s forte, but he isn’t the crappy driver some people make him out to be. He has proven to be more than capable in other forms of racing be it single seater race cars or saloons. Alex is in fact pretty quick, especially in saloon cars where he has won numerous titles. Don’t believe me? Try a couple of laps in Sepang with him. I can bet you’ll either wet your pants or have your balls hanging out your mouth by the end of it.

Questions, questions…
This sort of antagonism is rampant and I sometimes find it overpowering, unnecessary and exhausting. Imagine having to read bashing after bashing of the same subject multiple times across several channels daily. Do we really want to know (yes, again!) how the Government and Proton somehow owes you an arm and a leg? Or that you are fed-up of the crap that Proton churns out year after year? Do we really need to be reminded that Proton may not survive if it does not tie-up with a foreign company? Is it necessary to again mindlessly slag the Savvy despite it being probably the best-developed Proton car to date?

Bash. Slag. Rant. Criticise.

It’s sad, but coming to terms with reality, unavoidable. Why do people bash? Is it an attention-seeking move? Perhaps to seek approval of others? Or is it just for fun? Is it due to the dire need to be heard and to fit in? It’s baffling to put it to context, bordering on immaturity and lameness.

Malaysian competitiveness
Perhaps it’s the stereotypical Malaysian thing. To be competitive. No matter what. Usually in the wrong places. Like the determination to be up front in a queue, hence the innovative queue-cutting maneuvers you observe everyday. Or when boarding a bus or train. Competitiveness and determination. If only the two traits are channelled into our local sports. Perhaps we’ll see more champions than the selected few we have. Or into our jobs and careers. The determination to be bigger, better.

Sigh. My apologies for being blunt, but the truth sometimes hurt. And without the truth to slap us in the face, we will forever remain mediocre. If bashing was any indication of our mentality and intelligence, then we are seriously fucked. God (are you listening?) save us all.

But of course, despite the gravity of the situation, there is always hope. Call it blind faith. Deep down I’d like to see a day of intelligent remarks, educated comments backed up by cold, hard facts. Or at least good lies.

Hope it isn’t asking too much. Heh. Hope. Hah. Hate that word.

Sorry, wrong number!

Sorry fellas, but this is just too good to pass up even though its a copy-and-paste job!

(((ring)))

(((ring-g-g-g-g)))

*** pick up ***

“Hello?”
“Hi honey, this is Daddy…is your Mummy near the phone?”
“No Daddy, she’s upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Frank,”

After a brief pause Daddy says,
“But you haven’t got an Uncle Frank, honey!”
“Oh Yes I do, and he’s upstairs in the bedroom with
Mummy, right now!”

“Uh Okay then……here’s what I want you do. Put
down the phone, run upstairs and knock on the
bedroom door and shout to Mommy and Uncle Frank
that Daddy’s car just pulled up outside the house.”

“Okay Daddy!”
A few minutes later the little girl comes back to the phone.

Well I did what you said, Daddy.”
“And what happened?” he asks.

“Well, Mommy got all scared, jumped out of bed with
no clothes on and ran around screaming, then she
tripped over the rug and went flying out the
front window and now she’s all dead.”

“Oh my God!!!!! And what about your Uncle Frank?”

“He jumped out of bed with no clothes on too and he
was all scared and he jumped out the back window
into the swimming pool….. but he must have
forgot that last week you took out all the water to
clean it, so he hit the bottom of the swimming
pool and now he’s all real dead too.”

*** long pause ***

Then Daddy says, “Swimming pool????

Is this 555-7039?

“No! This is 555-7093” the little girl said.

“Oooooppppssss….sorry wrong number!”

Thank You.

Source: Forwarded email

A self-portrait, not self-drawn

My sweetheart of a girlfriend drew a portrait of me. It’s sweet. Muchos thanks and luv-luv, J!

P/S: Is it me, or does it look too good-looking to be me?

The Terminator Revisited

A new improved version of the T-2000, was spotted in Kuala Lumpur, just yesterday. Adhering to Terminator tradition, the new model codenamed “TU-N1Async” emerged completely naked behind a public restroom, blocks away from the Golden Triangle. Witnesses (mostly shocked old women) said the TU-N1Async humanoid then proceeded to ‘borrow’ clothing from the nearest departmental store.

Passers-by were surprised at the new outlook of the Terminator robot, much used to the bigger, more chiselled Arnold Schwarzenegger (or “Arnold Suasanasegar” as he is sometimes known here, form factor. Apparently, the Corporation had decided to go ‘global’ and politically correct and opted for an Asian featured robot. The current model appears to be friendlier, yet stronger and faster, with a suspected love for futsal and pancakes. To help it blend with the surrounding unfit population, the robot also features a flabby mid section. The trademark dark sunglasses remain, with a slight remodelled design by Porsche Design.

Upgraded firmware and software has resulted in much clearer speech sans the strong Austrian accent featured in its predecessor.

Designers of the robot, though, have left several key phrases much associated with Terminator like “Hasta la vista, baby” and “I’ll be back”.

Aliens Invade Design Firm

<em>An alien and a dude wearing funky glasses</em>

Friendly aliens exploring Earth’s solar system paid a special visit to a local design firm recently. Apparently scavenging for bonsai plants, the aliens are from Planet WeeFluSoFastAndEndedHere, one of 2 thousand little planets from Sector 0203B in the Slackerzoid Galaxy. Arriving in a specially-built spacecraft capable of inhuman speeds, the human-like aliens wearing funky glasses, greeted designers and account executives in the firm with ‘peace’ signs ala Winston Churchill and organic gifts from their home planet.

The Fat Issue

What’s fat? This is. Well, to be pro-active and not sit on my fat ass all day and just blog about being fat, I’ve made a pact with my girlfriend. We have decided to lose weight. I have 3 months to lose 7 kilos, and she has the same period to lose 5 kilos. Whoever fails to meet the deadline and preset goal is in for a huge punishment, which will be decided later. (whip and chain? hmm…)

Sounds like fun? Well, that’s more than enough motivation methinks.

Image borrowed from Corbis

To the death!

Me, man of sin…

My pal, Jimbo of decided to use a pic snapped of me in Melaka a while back for his poem, entitled “In the darkness…”.

Goddamn it, I am a prostitute. How flattering is that? Hah. But interesting poem nonetheless, with some anal clutches of vice thrown in.

Read the post here.