Bujang Lapuk Abroad...

Four Interviews and (Hopefully) a Funeral...

2006-11-30T20:15:00.000Z

In October, following the completion of my MBA, I embarked on a radical change of career direction*. In other words, I no longer practice as a pharmacist, although I am maintaining my registration. These days, I am a Research Associate with an investment bank in the City of London. People tend to assume that my research speciality is the pharmaceutical sector - logical, but wrong. No, believe it or not, my speciality is mining equities!

Landing this job was not the most straightforward of processes - it started with my submitting a speculative job application, followed by four rounds of interviews and then having my background checked out by a detective agenc... sorry, I meant "risk consulting company".

Travelling to interviews in London all the way from Bradford is typically a testing three-and-a-half hours each way - and this is assuming no hitches on the way. Good thing then that two of the four interviews were by telephone. The very first interview was a morning one, and YC very kindly put me up for the night.

L-R: A, YC, me.

Thankfully, the other interview that was held in London was in the afternoon.

Anyway, I obviously got the job, so all my efforts and sacrifices during and before my MBA were not in vain. But the position is not permanent yet: I've to successfully complete a six-month probation. So wish me luck that all goes well, that I can say RIP to my career as a retail pharmacist.

*Well, actually, I enjoyed a short holiday in Malaysia in between, but that will be covered in other posts.

There's a Fox in my Back Garden!

2006-11-26T14:50:00.000Z

Most people have dogs and/or cats in their gardens. I have a fox. And this is despite that I am currently living in London- not a place you'd normally associate with sightings of wildlife.

Actually, I sighted said canine for the first time only this morning, when I chanced to gaze through the windows of my conservatory. The creature paused and we exchanged a brief stare before it took fright and went over the fence.

And then this afternoon, while entertaining a friend of his, my housemate Patrick spotted it properly too. I say "properly" because he hadn't been wearing his spectacles in the morning and only saw a blur as it made its escape. As for me, this second time round, I was only able to catch a fleeting glimpse of its rapidly-departing rear.

And now a complete change of topic: I need to apologise to my regular readers (if there are any left!) for having been so tardy with my updating these last few months. In mitigation, lots has been going on in my life which has meant that free time has been an extremely scarce commodity.

For example, I am currently supposed to be studying for a work-related exam tomorrow. Speaking of exams, guess what? I received official confirmation yesterday that I've graduated my MBA with Distinction. Unofficially, it's looking likely that I will be top of my class by grade average. Too bad there's no prize for that though*.

* There IS an "MBA Student of the Year" prize, but it's going to one of the class-reps owing to her "contributions" (ie attending student-staff meetings).

Happy Merdeka Day 2006!

2006-08-30T22:10:00.000+01:00

Twelve years. This month, August, marks my completion of twelve years living in the UK. Naturally, having spent so long in Ol' Blighty, I have gained UK PR status. I have a British driving license, British library cards, a British National Insurance Number.

But my Passport remains Malaysian. And as far as I am concerned, it will remain so for the foreseeable future. This is despite that people suggest to me all the time that I would be better off with a British Passport. This is despite that I can see with my own eyes the fact that Malaysia's political climate seems to have become more, rather than less, oppressive under Pak Lah's rule. This is despite that the cost of living relative to pay has been ever-increasing in Malaysia.

So why I am clinging so resolutely to my Malaysian passport? Well, Malaysia is an integral part of my identity. I have always regarded myself as Malaysian, always been proud to call myself Malaysian. My accent remains Malaysian. Teh tarik and teh peng are my favourite drinks, nasi lemak, roti canai and nasi lemak are my favourite foods, and durians and rambutans are my favourite fruits.

Yes, the country certainly has its shortcomings. But I am confident that these can and will be overcome. I am certain that the country has hope, that it has a bright future ahead of it, that all will come good in the long run. Thus, though circumstances have required that I seek my fortune abroad, I very much look forward to the day when I am able to return to KL for good.

Malaysia Boleh!

Brush with an Ambulance

2006-08-30T21:47:00.000+01:00

So there I was, driving sedately home from grocery shopping. I'm approaching a busy cross-roads when I hear a siren wailing. The siren seems to be coming from behind me, so I'm busy looking in my rear view mirror, searching for the emergency vehicle.

And then suddenly, I realise I've forgotten all about the rapidly-approaching crossroads. The light's on green - but an ambulance comes into view, approaching the crossroads, heading from (my) left to right! Seems my ears had been playing tricks on me. Anyway, I've seen the ambulance too late: I've only just started braking, looks like I might crash into it!

Luckily, the ambulance driver sees me and starts to brake too. This allows me to swerve around the front of the ambulance, but forces me rightwards into the oncoming lane. Thankfully, this lane is empty, and I am able to quickly get back in-lane. Phew! That was a close call!

Trouble is, there are traffic cameras at that junction (there to catch people deliberately going through red lights). Will I get a ticket for this, for having strayed into the "wrong" lane? Oh no! I sure hope not - dang it, I didn't MEAN to do it! My light was green, I thought the emergency vehicle was behind me and I HAD been looking out for it, after all. I'll be viewing the postman's visits with trepidation for the next few weeks...

The Wedding of Ken and Barb... err... Candy

2006-08-27T01:00:00.000+01:00

Ken and Candy are old friends of mine; both were a year behind me in the pharmacy course at Nottingham University. Today, eleven years after they first met, they tied the knot. Isn't that just romantic?

L-R: AN, SH, Candy, Ken, me.

Guests at their wedding dinner each received this cute yet classy little souveneir.

The food served up was great. Ate till I was stuffed. In particular, I loved the yummy yam-duck dish. Unfortunately, it completely slipped my mind to photograph the dishes - I was simply too busy tucking in. ;) Sorry!

Three Weddings and No Funerals (Touch Wood)

2006-08-13T01:46:00.000+01:00

Two old friends of mine from university got married last year, and they very recently moved near (well, about 30 minutes by motorway) where I'm currently living. Today, they threw a barbeque party, inviting me and some other old pals. Of the ten people in the picture, three are married, two are about to get married in a fortnight and three are in long-term relationships. Anyone care to venture a guess as to who's doing what? Answers will be revealed eventually.

BackRow (L-R): NM, HL, PF, SC, CM, SH, AN
Front Row (L-R): KL, CL, me

Class Photo...

2006-07-02T20:49:00.000+01:00

This is my MBA class!

Can you spot me? No cheating! ;)

Yummy Roast Beef...

2006-07-02T20:39:00.000+01:00

There have been so many articles I wanted to write for this blog but never got around to. One was to have been about a meal I really enjoyed (well, several meals, really - there was more than enough!) , featuring some tender roast beef, medium-rare. But mmmm... I think I can let the pictures speak for themselves... ;)

Fresh from the oven. See the steam rising from the meat?

See the juicy, pink insides? Neither overly-raw (I don't like my meat too raw/bloody!) nor over-cooked (which can make beef really tough!). Perfection, if I do say so myself. Oh my... I've just made myself all hungry again, just looking at those pictures...

Sorry I've been tardy...

2006-07-02T20:12:00.000+01:00

Dear All,

<day-dreamer>: no updates for TWO months? omg.... u're fine i hope?
<Mama BoK>: Hey... YL .. missing you and your blog
<Gab>: MIA? seems to me ure really bz..hope things are good for you. Start blogging soon!
<FeR>: it's june 11th! very busy yea?
<Yuen Li>: Hi all. Nice to see people miss me.
<Yuen Li>: I hope to update end of this month or July.
<day-dreamer>: better be quick... more than 2 months already...
<Jules>: This blog is officially dead. I mourn for its loss. *moment of forced silence*
<Yuen Li>: Woah... don't write me of yet...
<Yuen Li>: Better late than never, right?
<FeR>: it's july!!! ding dong!

Waaaahhh... I'm so touched that you guys miss my updates. *sniff sniff* Thank you, thank you. So sorry about the lack of news on my part. It's not that I've not wanted to write; rather, things have been piling up, things which I've sadly had to prioritise over blogging.

Anyway, my MBA is going well so far. I was apparently top student by weighted grade average in Semester 1. And the best bit is that with most of the Semester 2a results out already, it looks like I've managed to maintain that position!

Aside from studying and working on my assignments, I've also been job-hunting. The University of Nottingham offered me a pharmacy lectureship at their campus in Malaysia a month or two back. It was exactly what I'd been hoping to eventually return to Malaysia to: a job that pays quite well by Malaysian standards with hours that aren't too onerous. Unfortunately, after discussions with my mother, I came to the realisation that good though it was, the pay simply wasn't good enough. Mum needed a minimum monthly sum that would have meant my having to live quite frugally. And if my sister missed any of her own contributions - and she's been far from reliable to date - I'd have to dig into my savings to make up for the shortfall.

So, after significant soul-searching, after a lot of debating with myself, I declined Nottingham's offer. Hence, it's been back to the drawing board on the job front. Anyone want to hire me for a job that pays a lot with little or no work? I'd be ever so grateful. :)

Beware the Scamsters...

2006-04-01T02:26:00.000+01:00

Story to come...

I Look Like A Girl?!!

2006-04-01T01:23:00.000+01:00

There's this nifty free site, MyHeritage.com, which uses face recognition technology to match your photos to that of celebrities (amongst others). Thought I'd have a go, chose a photo that happened to be to hand and this is what happened:

Ok, this was silly. I mean, come on, I know my name sounds feminine and all, but surely I don't LOOK feminine too? Or at least, not THAT feminine? How come there's only one guy out of five matches? And who the heck is BoA (she's nice looking, aint she?)??? So I tried again:

Another ridiculous result. The software is obviously very flawed indeed, and in desperate need of fixing. Not even a single male amongst the lot this time. So I thought, ok, one last chance (and this time, I'd use a picture of me wearing a tie, in case that helped the silly thing with gender identification):

And finally(!), a much more satisfactory result. The two closest matches were blokes: Tony Leung and Stephen Chow. But the next four were still women! *rolls eyes* And why does BoA keep putting in an appearance? Could she be stalking me?

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Yuen Li

2006-03-23T23:43:00.000Z

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Yuen Li!

California is the biggest exporter of Yuen Li in the world!
Half a cup of Yuen Li contains only seventeen calories.
There are six towns named Yuen Li in the United States.
If you keep a goldfish in a dark room, it will eventually turn into Yuen Li!
The fingerprints of Yuen Li are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene.
Yuen Li-olatry is the mindless worship of Yuen Li.
The horns of Yuen Li are made entirely from hair.
Japan provides over thirty percent of the world's Yuen Li supply.
US gold coins used to say 'In Yuen Li we trust'.
Yuen Li is the smallest of Jupiter's many moons.

"I am not a finance person."

2006-03-02T23:15:00.000Z

At the School of Management in Bradford, during Semester 2, MBA students have to select five Elective subjects out of a range of a couple of dozen or so. We are also allowed to "sit in" on up to two additional Electives if we wish, ie we are allowed to attend but are not officially recorded as having attended. And one of my "sit in" Electives happens to be International Business Strategy, a module actually taught by a Professor of International Business (plus one other lecturer) from Manchester Business School.

Anyway, Week 2's lecture was supposed to include the topic of the Global Monetary System, but that wasn't covered in the event, much to my disappointment. In the second half of today's lecture, two groups of students had to give a presentation on the subject of "the Euro versus the Dollar". Currency exchange rates, countries' Balances of Payments (BoPs) and business are all intimately connected, and in the post-presentation discussion, the Professor stated that China was in effect financing the United State's BoP by buying up their Treasury bonds. So I put my hand up and asked him what I thought was a perfectly legitimate question: if the surplus economies of the Far East were to go into deficit in the future, what did [he] think would be the consequences on the US economy and BoP?

And his reply? "I don't know, I am not a finance person." Honest, but anticlimatic. And actually, on second thought, I feel he's a bit of a fraud. The dire state of the US' BoP (and in particular, the trade deficit) is of potentially crucial importance to the world economy (and therefore businesses and their strategies), and so whilst I hadn't expected him to be able to provide a definitive answer, he should at least have been able to provide an informed opinion/guess*.

Moral of the story: if you really really want to specialise in International Business Strategy, Manchester and Bradford Business Schools are probably not really the places you wanna go. But that's just my two Euros.

* I would also like to point out that BoP is regarded by most people as a Macroeconomics topic rather than a Finance one.

Woohoo!

2006-02-23T22:40:00.000Z

The last couple of weeks have been somewhat harrowing: I'd been worrying about my exam marks.

It all started with the release of the marks for my Accounting assignment (which accounts for 1/4 of the Accounting & Finance double-module). The low mark I'd been awarded was bad enough, but even more shocking was the feedback. Said feedback was to the effect that I should have included a SWOT analysis, which was entirely contrary to the directions we'd originally been given. Turned out I wasn't the only victim of what appeared to be very dodgy marking - most of the students who had the same accounting tutor as myself suffered a similar fate. So a significant number of us wrote e-mails of complaint.

About a week afterwards, we received our marks for the Marketing assignment (which accounts for 1/2 of the Marketing & Operations Management double module). The marks were actually released last Friday evening, but I didn't learn about that until the night-time, when it was too late to collect my feedback sheet. But I was hearing of reports of weird marking, which made me anxious. And when I finally picked up my results on Monday, my worst fears were realised. Yet again, I seemed to be the victim of dodgy marking. Unfortunately, the Board of Examiners was due to convene in a couple of days, so I didn't think writing to complain would achieve anything, as there wouldn't be time for a re-mark (assuming the lecturers could be persuaded to do such a thing in the first place). But I wrote a complaint anyway.

Today, the full, definitive marks for Semester 1 modules were released. And guess what? My Accounting assignment mark was increased by 7%! This meant that it moved from the Merit range into the Distinction range - hooray! The bad news is that my Marketing assignment mark, as expected, wasn't altered - it remained a Merit. Even worse, it dragged down the overall Marketing & Operations Management module mark to a Merit. If the module had been split into two separate ones, which should have been the case in my opinion (and had previously been the case, but the School decided this year to try to "integrate" the teaching of these subjects; in practise, they were integrated in name only), I'd have one Distinction and one Merit instead of one Merit. *rolls eyes*

Ah well. Anyway, I've decided to ignore that fly in my ointment and celebrate the rest of my results: in the end, ALL my individual Semester 1 assignments and exams were Distinctions bar the Marketing assignment. Two of the three "mega-modules" (Economics and Accounting, People in Organisations) into which those assignments and exams were grouped were overall Distinctions, the exception being Marketing & Operations Management (Merit). And most important of all, my overall average is comfortably in the Distinction range! So drinks on the House all round! Wooohooohooohooohahahahahahahahaha! Happy happy happy! :D

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes...

2006-01-29T01:49:00.000Z

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
(or A Very Cold and Chilly Night)

Hehehe, it's nice to know that there are people out there who check out my blog often enough that the tardiness of my updates creates a degree of suspense that is "killing" for them... ;) Not that I'd want to kill (or in anyway inflict any sort of harm on) them, of course. :)

Anyway, this article is really CNY Party Part III. I'd driven to the party, and afterwards, offerred to give some of my classmates a lift home. Two of the three had had quite a bit to drink, although only one was truly drunk. He (who was drunk) lived on campus, which was our first stop. When we got there, I asked the other two to escort him to his room and put him to bed while I watched my car.

The two Escorts really took their time, so I eventually got out of the car to stretch my legs. The engine was still running, and it was then that I noticed the condensation in the exhaust (yeah, ok, it wasn't REALLY smoke - my tappets weren't busted, it wasn't an overly-rich fuel mix or any other such problem, luckily *touches wood*). It was THAT cold.

After waiting for 15 minutes, I started to wonder whether anything untoward had happened. I switched off the engine and took out my mobile phone - only to discover that the battery was just about depleted. So I decided to send an SMS to a friend, asking said friend to ring the Escorts to find out what was going on. Receiving no response after five minutes, I sent a second SMS to another friend. After another five minutes went by without any responses, I decided to lock up the car and go look for the trio. Unfortunately, I then discovered that all the doors to the residential block had locks, and was forced to return to the car.

I was just about to send out a third SMS to yet another friend when the Wayward Duo came running up. *rolls eyes* Turns out they had just taken their time getting the third guy safely tucked in and all. So all ended well, I am glad to be able to report.

An International CNY Party

2006-01-29T01:38:00.000Z

Hokay, firstly, I've to apologise for my tardiness to at least three people (that I know of) who have (apparently) been eagerly awaiting this "story". Sorry, guys!

So where was I? I forget. Time dims the memories... although I suppose my increasing age might play a part in that. As I'm fond of telling people, I'm getting older with every passing second.

*Sounds of crickets chirping and wind blowing whilst tumbleweed rolls past, as audience remains stolidly unmoved by corny joke*

(Never you mind about how or why there would possibly be tumbleweed in Bradford, or how crickets could possibly survive the freezing temperatures of late...)

Haiyoh. Tough crowd, ah, tonight? Take pity-lah, give chan-lah, laugh a bit-lah. Come on-lah, show some charity, for Pete's sake (yeah, that's right, let's blame it all on Pete, hehe).

Anyway, the pictures below are of me and my coursemates who added the CNY party. Yes, I know, that's stating the obvious. Bear with me please, and I'll make some introductions. Joan, esteemed Organiser-in-Chief is the beauty sitting next to me in the picture on the left. Next to her's Frank, and then Frank's girlfriend (actually a lecturer in Taiwan, paying him a brief visit) and Park (from Korea). The picture on the right has most of the German contingent: Matthias, me (no, I'm not German), one of the German blokes' girlfriends who happened to be visiting, Thomas, Marko, Sandra and another of the German blokes' girlfriends (lucky sods).

Crossing his legs below is Jun from Japan. The guy with his back to the camera is Martin (Germany). In the next pic, we have Park (again), Nobu (Japan) and Zaynab (Nigeria).

Right, I don't think I'm even going to ATTEMPT trying to name every one in the next two pictures. Yes, I know I'm a lazy so-and-so. Thank you.

Second from left is Shirley (Taiwan). See if you can guess who the other three are.

Notice the remarkable colour coordination below. Warning: don't try this at home - we're all trained professionals (that is, I'm a pharmacist, she's a lecturer and he's a marketer)! She's got a red top, him black and me black and red. Three shades of beige trousers. And you can't tell from the pic, but we've also three sets of footwear of varying shades of grey/black...

Food Galore...

2006-01-29T01:37:00.000Z

The weekend just past, I attended a party thrown by some of my MBA coursemates to celebrate the Chinese New Year. Joan, our efficient and ever-conscientious Organiser-in-Chief, offered me two options: cook something and pay just a little (£3), or pay more and never mind about the cooking (£6). No prizes for guessing which choice lazy ol' me opted for!

So, on the evening of Saturday the 28th of January, 2006, I duly turned up on Joan's doorstep at the appointed time (7pm) empty-handed* and feeling somewhat guilty about the fact. But the guilt didn't last long - it dissipated once I saw the amount of food the others turned up with! There was more than enough for the 30 or so of us who turned up, so a contribution from myself would have just been overkill. Or at least that's what I tell myself... ;)

It quickly became apparent that one of our fellow classmates is something of a closet chef. Nobu brought so many dishes that a whole table (below) was dedicated to his yummy creations. Believe it or not, he claimed to have made all those dishes in under three hours! Talk about putting the rest of us to shame.

The students at the party came from all round the world - there were people from Germany, Thailand, Japan and Korea, to name a few of their home countries. The (rest of the) cuisine was an eclectic mix dominated by ~~Chinese~~ oriental (Chinese and Japanese) dishes, but with a significant German contribution plus a couple of "others".

Unfortunately, I'm really bad with names (heck, my memory's bad in general) so I can't tell you what the dishes were. But if you squint hard enough, you MIGHT just be able to make out the names of the dishes and contributors on the placecards**...

*unless you count my camera, that is.
** but I accept no responsibility for your ruining your eyesight if you should choose to do so.

Pork Chops and Apple Sauce

2006-01-15T19:01:00.000Z

There can be few dishes in this world anywhere as delicious and saliva-inducing as pork chops, at least in my experience. And today, I developed a hankering for some. Luckily, I happened to have a few in my freezer, so I was able to prepare them for today's dinner.

The key to tasty chops, in my opinion, is simply to be sure to use enough salt and pepper. Any and all other spices are entirely optional. In this case, I added some basil.

The greeny goo towards the left edge of the plate is apple sauce. Truth be told, I'm not actually all that keen on having apple sauce with pork chops (or even pork roast). Apple sauce on its own is delicious, as are pork chops by themselves. The combination, however, is just weird as far as I'm concerned. But it's traditional in the UK and I had some sauce left over from Christmas, so I took the opportunity to finish it off. Next time, it's tomato ketchup!

Driving Through the Snow

2006-01-15T18:16:00.000Z

National Health Service (NHS) dentistry in the UK is a shamble these days. Trying to get on the list of an NHS dentist is now next to impossible in some parts of the UK, with many dentists even opting to go entirely private. This means that you've got to be careful to stay on your current NHS dentist's list if you're currently fortunate enough to be on one. The alternative is to go private - and private charges tend to be sky-high! More importantly, you don't have access to emergency NHS dental services if you're not registered with an NHS dentist

When I moved to Bradford, I discovered that there were no open NHS dental lists in the area AT ALL. So it was a good thing then that I hadn't removed myself from the list of my dentist in Nottingham, because at the end of November, one of my fillings fell out. I rang the surgery and was told that there was no possibility of being seen until the 30th of December - that was how booked up they were.

So on the 30th of December, I set off for Nottingham to see my dentist. The surgery couldn't have scheduled my appointment for a worse time - the weather was the worst it'd been this winter, with substantial snowfall in many parts of the country. The roads were icy, and there had already been five accidents on the stretch of the M1 motorway just outside Bradford in the early hours of that morning alone.

Well, it was an exciting drive all right. Some of the roads I drove through to get out of Bradford must have had at least a couple of inches of snow on 'em - you could FEEL the loss of control and wheelspin as the car struggled to find traction. Driving on the motorway was even more adrenaline-inducing, especially when the car passed over stretches of black ice. Who needs roller coasters, haha.

I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

2006-01-01T22:44:00.000Z

My self-discipline seems to be going to pot these days. Instead of studying for my upcoming exams, I spent tonight watching Armageddon (1998), starring Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck, et al. Apparently, some of the "sad" scenes in the film's climax drew derisive laughter from the audience during a partial-preview at one Cannes film festival. Assuming the preview hadn't distorted the movie in anyway, then I think those (mainly) French snobs must have been a bunch of heartless sadists, coz I personally find those scenes moving. Inspiring, even. And the theme song, Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" is simply just marvellous, don't you agree?

PS Anyone know if Liv Tyler's single and available? ;)

I Don't Want To Miss A Thing
Aerosmith

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you're far away dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't wanna close my eyes
Don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream would never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

Laying close to you feeling your heart beating
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming
Wondering if it's me you're seeing
Then I kiss your eyes
And thank God we're together
I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever
Forever and ever

Don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

I don't wanna miss one smile
I don't wanna miss one kiss
I just wanna be with you
Right here with you, and just like this
I just want to hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And just stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time

Don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
I don't want to miss a thing

Boxing Day...

2005-12-26T21:04:00.000Z

...isn't anything to do with Mohammed Ali, Mike Tyson, Prince Naseem, Frank Bruno et al. Rather, it's what the Brits call the 26th of December.

When I first arrived in the UK over a decade ago now, traditionally, hardly any businesses opened and there were few services available on Boxing Day. But times are a-changing: nowadays, a lot of stores start their so-called "January" Sales on Boxing Day. Apparently, there was a already a long queue for Ms Selfridges in London at 5am this morning!

I didn't get any shopping done myself. Instead, I travelled to Barnsley, where old friends Ken and Candy were hosting a gathering of university chums. Ken and Candy are a lovely couple who are doing really well for themselves - they've got a really impressive, beautifully-appointed house and a big, handsome Japanese Akita (Keto) - and are getting married in a few months (many congratulations to them).

There are four doctors, five pharmacists, two engineers and a student in the above picture. Would anyone care to venture a guess as to the explanation?

A Painful Christmas

2005-12-26T20:36:00.000Z

My sister had originally been scheduled to visit over Christmas, but she decided at the eleventh hour that she was too busy to come by after all. Perhaps it was for the best - I had terrible headaches that day and would have been in no condition to entertain her.

In fact, I first woke to a pounding headache at 4am. It was so painful I felt like hammering on the bed (but didn't). I considered taking some ibuprofen, a relatively-strong over-the-counter painkiller. However, this is not something that's wise to take that on an empty stomach. As it happens, I WAS hungry (my last meal having been Christmas Eve dinner at approximately 6pm) - yet paradoxically, I didn't feel in the least like eating because the headache was making me feel nauseous. The feeling of nausea also caused me to rule out taking anything codeine-based (for fear of exacerbating the sensation and becoming physically-sick).

So instead, I settled for paracetamol, that weakest of painkillers, accompanied by a plain biscuit to try to neutralise the burning acid in my stomach. Then I curled up miserably under my duvet. Sleep didn't come (easily). It's times like that when having a sympathetic partner in whose arms one can be cuddled and comforted would be particularly nice. But alas, I am not so blessed.

Somehow, I managed to drift off, waking again at around 10.30am. The headache seemed to have gone, to my relief. Unfortunately, the respite was short-lasting - the cursed cerebral pounding reannounced itself around lunch-time. Fortunately, I was able to get some food - and ibuprofen down. This seemed to do the trick: the pain gradually abated to nothingness within a few hours and didn't return.

I hope everyone else had a better, more enjoyable Christmas Day, 2005.

Christmas Eve Lunch

2005-12-24T12:46:00.000Z

Christmas Eve Lunch Menu

Main Course

Roast Pork
(flavoured with sage and onion)

served on a bed of luscious leaves
(apollo, lollo rosso, red batavia and rocket)

with sides of
mixed pepper salad
creamy potatoes

Dessert
Raspberry Trifle
Mango slices

Merry Christmas to All!

2005-12-24T11:22:00.000Z

Dear All,

I know I've been neglecting you of late. My apologies - it's just that I've been swamped with assignments and studying, what with exams being round the corner in January. Do forgive me. I hope to be blogging more actively again soon, as soon as I'm done with all that.

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I hope 2006 turns out to be a vintage year for everyone. :)

Best wishes,

Yuen Li :)

Sweet & Sour...

2005-12-13T23:43:00.000Z

Do you like sweet-tasting tidbits? Or sour morsels? Or perhaps some combination of both? Me, I like sweet stuff. I'm not too keen on anything that leaves a foul taste in the mouth. Just pure sweetness and smiles for me, tah very much. No sourness, no bitterness, no adulteration. No winces, no grimaces. No regrets.

Of course, I never ever seem to get what I want in life. Or more accurately, I never ever get served quite what I ordered. What I do receive inevitably seems to be tinged by some of what I don't want. I always get sour with my sweet, odd twinges of regrets with my triumphs, a few off-notes when my heart sings with joy.

Today, the School of Management released the marks for the second assignment we'd submitted thus far. This one was on microeconomics. Glancing at my feedback sheet, the first thing I noted was that the mark had been altered by the Second Marker/Moderator. As this mark was "78%", I was initially elated (>70% = distinction; 60-69% = merit; 50-59% = pass). Sweet! But examining the sheet more closely, I realised that the original mark (that given by the First Marker) had been 80%. Damn! There it was: the slight dampener to go with my joy. The lemon with my Coke (or vodka, for you alcoholics out there). The speedhump on my autobahn.

A couple of weeks back, I was excited about having discovered a girl who was theoretically "perfect". A number of you kind and supportive souls out there have since encouraged me to go after Her. But guess what? There are complications. That would be the case, naturally. This is me we're talking about, after all. Do I have a chance? I dunno.. Slim at best, if you asked me to venture a guess. So don't get your hopes up. In case you think that's me being unduly pessimistic, I should explain that She's got her heart set on another guy. One whom she happens to live with too. Do you still think I'm being overly-pessimistic about my chances now? No, I thought not. ;)

PS In anticipation of the concerned comments I know from experience will almost inevitably be coming (and which I do really appreciate): I realise it probably doesn't come across that way, but this piece really was just meant to be a bit of light-hearted complaint. Don't worry - I am not feeling depressed or down. Yet. ;)

A Concert to Forget

2005-12-03T22:33:00.000Z

Usually, I find taking part in orchestral or symphonic band concerts a rewarding experience. Unfortunately, I can say the same of the one I've just taken part in - but more about that later.

Today's concert took place at 7.30pm in St John's Church, near Bradford University's main campus. It had a Russian theme, featuring classical and religious works written by eminent Russian composers.

Most of the pieces featured the University Symphony Orchestra and the University Singers. In addition, there were "guest" appearances by the Recorder Players (a quintet playing a variety of sizes of recorders, from sopranino to bass) and the church's own choir. If you're the sort who likes pieces that combine orchestra and choir and are not familiar with the works below, I highly recommend Borodin's Polovtsian Dances. This is actually a collection of five pieces; the one misleadingly known No. 17 has a ravishingly beautiful melody.

My name usually gets mis-spelled in programme notes. But this is the first time it's been spelled "Euan"! It more usually appears as "Yeun".

The orchestra had a rehearsal scheduled for 2.30pm. Mark, the conductor, asked us not to be late. But at the appointed time, he was still working with the choir...

...which meant that us orchestra people had to hang about, until about 3pm. We then rehearsed with the choir until just after 5pm. Believe it or not, this was the first time the choir and orchestra had rehearsed together.

The church was quite spacious and the acoustic wasn't bad at all.

This is me and Martin, who was Principal Horn.

The first half of the concert went well, at least for me. Then, towards the end, Mark surprised us by announcing to the audience that he was amending the programme so that we would play Prokofiev's Troika first. And then he sprang another surprise, which was to prove disasterous for me: you know that instrument with little bells on that people shake in Christmas-y music? Well, he took a little kid from the audience, saying something about how he'd heard that the kid wanted to be a conductor, and gave the kid the bells.

Unfortunately, I don't think the kid is cut out to be a conductor. He had no sense of rhythm, and was throwing the orchestra off! About midway through, trying to reconcile the conductor's strokes with the rhythm the kid was setting, I got confused, missed my cue and came in a beat late. And it was very obvious too, because I had the melody! I was really embarrassed about it. And I'm probably psychologically scarred for like too. Argh! *Beats head against wall*

Moral of the story: never give a percussion instrument to a kid unless you KNOW he's definitely a child genius.

If There's Any Justice...

2005-11-29T20:53:00.000Z

If There's Any Justice
(Lemar)

If there's any justice in the world,
I would be your man,
You would be my girl,
If I'd found you first you know its true,
He would be alone,
I would be with you.

When you decide, don't let me down,
Coz there's nothing to be certain in my life,
And you've seen a thousand times,
There's not much justice in the world.
If there's any justice in your heart,
You love pity it changed,
Ease it into heart,
Oh no,
Why don't you remember how it feels,
Not to give a damn,
For anyone but me.

I can't believe you'd be deceived,
Changing memories from truth to fantasy,
Where there's nothing left but tears,
And there's not much justice in the world.

Just because he's wrapped around your finger,
Don't fool yourself with dreams that might appear,
If in time you'll stop and trust your feelings,
The truth is out there somewhere,
It's blowing in the wind.

If there's any justice in the world,
I would be your man,
You would be my girl,
Oh yeah,
If I'd found you first you know its true,
He would be alone,
I would be with you,

When you decide, don't let me down,
Coz there's nothing to be certain in my life,
And you've seen a thousand times,
There's not much justice in the world.

If I should lose you girl you know,
That there's not much justice in the world.

If there's any justice in the world,
You're gonna be my baby,
You're gonna be my baby,
You're gonna be my baby.

Perfection

2005-11-28T16:16:00.000Z

Talk about unproductive weekends. The one just past was supposed to have been spent working on assignments but I ended up watching a lot of TV instead. Channel 5 had a kung fu-themed weekend you see. They screened Tokyo Raiders on Saturday night, and Jackie Chan's Who Am I the following night.

Tokyo Raiders featured lots of delectable (mainly Japanese) babes. The heroine was Kelly Chen - quite a dish, but in my opinion, one or two of the Japanese extras were slightly cuter. Who Am I featured two quite lovely-looking females: Michelle Ferre and Mirai Yamamoto. Anyone know if Michelle's mixed-race? Coz she looks Chinese to me, despite her name...

The above mentioned-females may be beautiful and all, but I only regard them as attractive from a physical standpoint. Are they as attractive in other regards? I very much doubt so, from my experience of beautiful females. So, is there such a creature as The Perfect Female, or someone approximating that description? Well, my answer to that question is that I do believe she exists.

And the reason for my saying so is that I've recently encountered and gotten to know Her online. She's perfect, at least from my point of view. She: has got a great smile (the very first thing that caught my attention), is the "right" height and weight, looks attractive (with the "right" sort of looks too - a gal can be the "wrong" sort of beautiful), is musical and has perfect pitch, is intelligent (a medical student with a history of straight-As), has a nice personality, has a great command of English, is communicative, doesn't smoke, eats just about everything, etc. Oh, and she's modest too - she disputes my assessment of her, and always claims instead to be very flawed (although her so-called flaws seem quite minor to me).

I'll just bet she's got a queue of suitors a mile long...

First Snowfall

2005-11-28T16:03:00.000Z

Bradford had its first snowfall* this morning. The day's Marketing lecture had not long commenced when snow started drifting from the skies. Well, not so much drift as hurtle, really - though on the small side, the flakes were were of the relatively heavier "wet" variety, which isn't the sort that's nice to play in** and occurs when the temperature isn't low enough to prevent the flakes melting. It WAS cold enough, however, for the snow to persist for about an hour after the snowfall halted. I'm just grateful there wasn't more of it - believe me, it's really unpleasant walking around in slushy conditions!

*Daytime snowfall, that is. It might well have snowed during the previous night(s) without my knowledge, since the cold tends to inhibit me from setting foot outside when it's dark.
** For that, the light, fluffy "dry" variety is best.

Looks Like Snow!

2005-11-20T20:46:00.000Z

The Meterological Office is predicting that this year's winter will be the coldest since those of '95/'96 and '96/97. And I believe them - it's only mid-November, and already we've had a spell of nights with temperatures below OC (as low as -2C or -3C). As a result, this are the frost-covered scenes I've been greeted with every morning for the last week or so:

London Malays(ians) Ruder?

2005-11-14T01:09:00.000Z

On Saturday just past, the Nottingham Malaysian Society had its annual inter-university Sports Day. Until recently, I've usually tried to make that event (or alternatively the Nottingham Malaysian-Singaporean Society's equivalent) every year but unfortunately have had to miss the last three for various reasons. To be honest, I'm not really much of an athlete: instead, I go primarily for the (delicious Malaysian) food on sale (made by Malaysian students at Nottingham University) and to socialise a bit (but this is very much secondary to the food, hehe).

Anyway, I was just chatting on MSN Messenger with a Nottingham-based friend (LB) who had to miss the Games because she's got this part-time waitressing job. And was somewhat appalled by the bad behaviour she had to endure at the hands of some Malaysian students from London. I think they owe her an apology.

LB: how was malaysian games
YL: I didn't go...
YL: The M'sian soc here is more or less defunct...
YL: As far as I'm aware, they didn't organise a trip...
YL: What's your excuse? :)
LB: working from 10.30am to 11.45pm
LB: having to entertain the nms committee and their friends
LB: rather deliquint as well
LB: deliquent*
YL: Eh?
YL: You were entertaining the committee and their friends? When?
LB: in (anonymised restaurant)
LB: saturday
YL: Oooohhhh...
YL: You mean you were working in (anonymised restaurant)?
LB: yup
YL: And that's why you didn't go to the games?
LB: yeah
YL: Wow, I'm amazed you work such long hours...
LB: had 3 hours break
LB: thank goodness
YL: oic :)
LB: remind me why pseudo-rich malay students are brats
YL: What'd they do?
LB: treating the restaurant as thought it's a mamak store
LB: i want this and that attitude
LB: initally they told us 20 ppl are coming
YL: And?
LB: rude as well
LB: want individual receipt and expecting us to remember their orders
LB: arrogance air from london students
YL: Awww...
LB: im sure there are nice bumiputeras around
LB: but i have never met such rude bunch
LB: i dont care if he or she is rich or pretending to be rich, all i can say that their attitude sucks
LB: mind u, they are just 1st and 2nd year UG
LB: they came late as well
LB: expecting the chefs to wipe out their food in 15min time
LB: some left followed by some new students
LB: in and out
LB: how can one expect a good service with unrealisitic expectation
LB: one day, i think they should try waitressing
LB: see if they like it
YL: lol
YL: So were the rude ones from Nottingham or London?
YL: *or elsewhere?
LB: london
YL: They leave you any tips?
LB: well, funny though, they were shocked with their bills
LB: i think it's over £300
LB: tips is compulsory for a party of 6 and above
YL: lol
LB: and i got my revenge too
LB::P
YL: lol
YL: Don't tell me you spit in their food or something ;)
LB: no
LB: i mean their expensive bill
YL: oic :)
LB: they kept topping up their orders
LB: so, what can i say

Remembrance Festival Concert

2005-11-07T00:03:00.000Z

Gosh, I'm exhausted. Just got back from performing at a Remembrance Festival Concert in St George's Hall. The University's concert band was helping round out the numbers of Bellevue Symphonic Band. It was a touching ceremony. Too bad I didn't have anyone to take pictures of the actual concert - but than again, cameras weren't allowed within the concert hall itself anyway. But I do have this, taken in the orchestra room prior to the performance:

In case anyone's interested, the Remembrance Festival pays tribute to the memory of those who gave their lives in wars. Strictly speaking, officially, Remembrance Day falls on the 11th of November (it was originally known as Armistice Day, commemorating as it did the signing of the Armistice which ended World War I on the 11th of November, 1918 - the Day was only renamed Remembrance Day much later). Hence, every year, most Brits observe a minute's silence on the 11th minute of the 11th hour of November 11. They often also wear a red poppy for the same reason (because red poppies subsequently sprang up on former battlefields in France).

The second Sunday of each November is known as Remembrance Sunday. On this day, church services and other ceremonies are held throughout the United Kingdom. The major ceremony is in London, at the Cenotaph, involving thousands of ex- and currently-serving military personnel (as well as related services). It's usually televised live on terrestrial TV, if you're in the UK and interested in catching it.

I'd Like To Be This Guy (But Girls Won't Seem To Let Me)...

2005-11-05T02:13:00.000Z

There's this cute little piece doing the rounds on Friendster's bulletin blog that touches my heart. I'm reposting it here with some modifications (there were a few niggling things about the original that I just HAD to edit, with apologies to the author whomsoever he/she is)...

I am the guy who will text you
every single morning to wish you good morning
and every single night to wish you sweet dreams.

I am the guy who will text you and tell you
"I love you and you make me smile"
just because it's true.

I am the guy who will blindfold you and take you to the beach,
let you run your toes through the sand
and then have you guess where we are.

I am the guy who will show up at your games
(or competitions or meets) without you knowing
just to surprise you.

I am the guy who thinks that you're beautiful
even without makeup
even in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

I am the guy who doesn't care
about your imperfections
and loves you all the more for them.

I am the guy who will show up
at your house with hot chicken soup and a movie
when you aren't feeling well.

I am the guy who will hold you
when you are crying
and wipe away your tears.

I am the guy who won't pressure you
to do those things
you don’t want to.

I am the guy who kisses you on the forehead,
the guy who actually listens to you when you talk,
the guy who doesn’t kiss and tell.

I am the guy who gets butterflies
when he hears your name, who can't help but smile
when you walk into the room.

I am the guy who's excited
all day looking forward
to our date that night.

I am the guy who is contented just holding you
and wants for nothing more, who will hold you
while we watch the sunset.

I am the guy who’s perfectly happy
staying in, watching movies
and cuddling.

I am the guy who won't lie to you
about where he’s going or where he's been
or who he's been with.

I am the guy who isn't always trying
to act like a hard man around you.
I am the guy that will tell you how I feel.

I am the guy who picks you over his friends,
who's not afraid to tell them or you
that he loves you.

I am the guy who really really wants
to make YOU
the Happiest Girl In The World.

Girls: if this is your perfect guy
repost this with the title
"I want this guy".

Guys: if this is you
repost this with the title
"I am this guy”.

A Good Start in Life...

2005-10-31T22:10:00.000Z

Unfortunate Names. For Real! - Part II
(Click here for Part I)

Isn't it just touching how parents can be so concerned about the welfare of their children? Isn't it amazing, the lengths to which parents will go to ensure their children have a good start in life?

According to an article published in The Times recently, George Leahy, 43, had been "trying since 2000 to convince the authorities that a new school was needed [in his area]." His son had been "due to start secondary school next year but was unlikely to be offered places at either of his two first-choice schools."

George is likely a doting father, so it's a pity that his efforts might well be in vain, even if he does succeed in getting the government to agree to a new school. I say that because of a single very unfortunate decision George made some 10 years ago - when he decided to name his son Euryn. Poor boy - can you imagine what his peers must make of that name? I foresee a lifetime of therapists' couches...

Bujang Lapuk Fried Chicken

2005-10-31T00:35:00.000Z

Got a hankering for fried chicken? Well, this is a simple but tasty recipe for around 24 pieces of fried chicken. You can scale it up or down as desired.

First, crack three eggs into a bowl and beat well. Add salt and pepper (coarse and fine-ground black) to taste; you can also add some chilli powder or herbs such as oregano (mmm...).

Next, de-skin 18-24 pieces of chicken (de-skinning is not compulsory). I personally prefer to use thighs coz I don't like the tendons in drumsticks, whilst breasts are rather expensive (at least in the UK(. And wings are too troublesome - they have too many bones (yes, I'm a lazy git)!

Coat the chicken pieces in the seasoned egg mix.

In the past, I deep-fried my chicken in a wok. But recently, I got this nifty contraption: a dedicated deep fryer - and it was only £20 from Argos(!). It has a number of features which makes deep-frying a lot safer - for example, a safety mechanism prevents the internal wire basket being lowered into the oil until the lid has been closed.

The capacity of this particular fryer model is 700g per load, or about four chicken thighs. The oil should be pre-heated to 190C (to ensure you don't give yourself a bout of salmonella). This takes about 10 minutes, and I find that turning on the fryer just prior to preparing the eggs and chicken works out a treat.

After 6-7 minutes, flip the chicken pieces over if using a wok or pan; with the fryer, I raise the basket and turn the pieces over. This ensures that the meat is evenly cooked. Continue cooking for another 6-7 minutes. The chicken pieces in the picture above had already been flipped, exposing white patches; further cooking nicely browned those patches (below).

Once the chicken is cooked, allow the chicken to drain in a wire basket (if you have one) for a minute or so, before transferring to a plate lined with clean paper towels. The towels soak up some of the remaining excess oil (and there WILL be some). Repeat the process for the remaining pieces of chicken. The result looks something like this:

Gladiator

2005-10-23T23:47:00.000+01:00

Today, C5 screened the movie Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe as Maximus . Historically inaccurate, but nonetheless a good watch, one I always enjoy. There are two bits I particularly savour. The first is where Maximus the gladiator stirringly announces his true identity to the stunned ursurper Commodus: "I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, loyal servant to the true emperor Marcus Aurelius."

The other bit is right at the end, after Maximus has defeated Commodus and then passes on himself. Well, I don't really enjoy this part of the movie, so to speak. But corny though some of the imagery may be, I still find the scenes touching; they never fail to move me, to bring a tear (or more) to my eyes. Especially when Gracchus asks, "Who will help me carry him," and virtually the whole crowd steps forward.

Maximus is a character I identify with, someone I would aspire to be. Not that I am claiming to be even half the man he was. The way he endured such suffering and tenaciously battled and triumphed against the odds stacked so heavily against him, the way he stuck to his principles - I don't pretend that I would be capable of handling such adversity. Rather, Maximus represents ideals and values by which I hope I am living my life. His trials and ordeals put into perspective my own little sacrifices and triumphs, which pale by way of comparison. His life reminds me of all the things I still want to achieve: earn my fortune, win the heart of the woman of my dreams (if I ever find her), raise a loving family. And in the end, when I pass on, I hope at least some will deem my memory worthy of preserving and honouring.

Love Hurts (Me)

2005-10-16T23:23:00.000+01:00

Damn it! I gotta stop watching TV - it's bad for my heart.

First, there's that hilarious sitcom Scrubs (C4, Friday nights), which I've tried to follow regularly, almost religiously. After pining after Elliot (Sarah Chalke) for ages, JD (Zach Braff) lands an even more beautiful, nymphoniac girlfriend, Danni (Tara Reid). What more could a guy ask for? But he dumps her. Twice. Because he's still pining for Elliot. Then he finally wins Elliot back. And the fool promptly decides he doesn't love her after all. And tells Elliot. Arrrggghhh!

Then today, Channel 5 aired the movie Spiderman, starring Toby Maguire and Kirsten Dunst. Good film. I was enjoying it until towards the end. Here's the scene: Peter and gang are at the funeral of (the guy whose alter ego was the Goblin, I forget his name). The beautiful MJ confesses to Peter that she loves him. And what does the idiot do? "I'll always be there for you - as a friend," he replies. Double arrrrgggghhh!!!

Dammit, what is wrong with these guys? They win the hearts of these amazingly beautiful women and then decide to brush them off? Call me a romantic fool, but that's just not right. And it frustrates me. A lot. Possibly because I don't seem to be anywhere nearly as successful as those guys in reeling in the gals? I dunno. Perhaps. But come ON, people. Don't tease me so. Don't mock me so. Don't play with my heart like that. I'd give my left arm* to have a gal like Elliot as my girlfriend, neurotic though she might be. Anyone got her number?

*Well, not "give" literally**. Perhaps lend. With me still firmly attached. And only for a short time. For some non-arduous, painless easy and pleasant task.
** Unless you mean literally in a non-literal sense.

But It's Not All Bad...

2005-10-10T23:52:00.000+01:00

Forgot to mention in my previous post. Despite my poor opinion of my Orientation Group team-mates, we DID manage to solve a group-puzzle faster than all the other groups. In fact, ours was only one of three groups that managed it. And we completed the puzzle significantly faster than the next-best group, using only 20 of the 40 allotted minutes (the next-best group took about 30 minutes).

Despite that achievement, I still maintain that some of my group were real idiots. And this is why:

The puzzle solving game started with each group being given a bunch of sheets of paper, with each sheet containing different questions, instructions and clues. The sheets were divided up amongst team members and you couldn't look at others' sheets. We were given forty minutes to solve the puzzle and answer three questions.

My group adjourned to a nearby meeting room. There, reading through my sheets, I discovered that only one member of the group was allowed to use the marker pen our group had been given. So I asked the guy who happened to be holding the marker to write some stuff on the whiteboard. And he immediately tried to shirk doing so. So a second guy standing next to him volunteered instead.

Afterwards, Shirker*, an engineer by training, claimed to have been used to that sort of thing at work. And that the important thing was to write every down, that that was the key to solving such puzzles. Essentially, he was trying to claim credit for our success. I was REALLY tempted to challenge him as to why then he'd declined to be our designated writer-downer when I "suggested" he take that role earlier.

I was going to write more, but it's midnight and I'm too sleepy to concentrate. Maybe some other time. Besides, all this negative talk is bad for my system. Or good, if you think of it as venting. I dunno, can't think straight now. Nitez, all.

*He was also the person who contributed least in the orientation-week presentation we had to give on a field-trip we had early on.

Moronic Bloody Asses (MBAs)

2005-10-05T20:17:00.000+01:00

It's week three of my course now: we've had a hectic orientation week, a slower-paced introductory teaching week and now a somewhat chaotic second week of teaching.

And I must have been a bad boy in my past life. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but all three teams I've been in so far suck bigtime. The first was a temporary orientation week-only team, thankfully. But I'm stuck with the other two groups for the rest of the semester! In all cases, I find myself having to give the group direction - but not too overtly, coz that would damage egos. And I seem to be the main contributor (the others simply weren't pulling their weight), plus Explainer-of-Stuff-in-Chief. Believe it or not, I was explaining basic microeconomics to a banker and a marketer yesterday. Me, a pharmacist by training and trade. Sheesh. This is so NOT how I envisioned my MBA: admittedly somewhat naively in hindsight, I had imagined myself soaking up the shared knowledge and experience of capable, supersmart colleagues. *shakes head*

Today, my group set down for an hour-long tutorial. Seems I was the only one who'd prepared AND brought the module handbook as directed. The tutor wasn't best-pleased either when she found out. I ended up spending 45 minutes of the hour twiddling my thumbs waiting for the rest of 'em to finish the survey we were supposed to discuss. During that time, the tutor popped back in briefly to see how we were getting on. She left in a bit of a huff. One of my (more) errant colleagues remarked that she seemed a bit frustrated. So I calmly explained to help that I was frustrated too. That I'd come on the course looking forward to learning from them all (my fellow students). And what had they taught me so far? But I was always smiling, he said - I didn't seem frustrated to him. I explained that I like smiling. And that just because I was smiling whilst speaking to him didn't mean I wasn't frustrated.

The rest of the group seemed suitably contrite, a few apologising and a couple even going so far as to say how we (they) had to prepare better in the future. We shall see.

Time to Say Goodbye (to the Summer)

2005-09-30T00:05:00.000+01:00

Ok, summer is now definitely taking its leave. Autumn is setting in. I say that because I've got my fan heater on full blast tonight - the night air's developed a distinct chill to it. The fan heater's nice and warm, but a real hog when it comes to electricity. My flat's got a proper electric central heater, but I'm not convinced it's working. I'll have to speak to the landlord and get him to take a look...

Speaking of summer leaving us reminds me of a song I was fond of as a child. And I still like it now - as usual, because it's got a nice melody and rich harmonies. It's called "Sealed with a kiss."

Though we've got to say goodbye
For the summer
Darling, I promise you this
I'll send you all my love
Everyday in a letter
Sealed with a kiss

Yes it's gonna be a cold, lonely summer
But I'll fill the emptiness
I'll send you all my dreams
Everyday in a letter
Sealed with a kiss

I'll see you in the sunlight
I'll hear your voice everywhere
I'll run to tenderly hold you
But, Darling you won't be there

I don't wanna say goodbye
For the summer
Knowing the love we'll miss
Let us make a pledge
To meet in September
And seal it with a kiss

The Chicken, The Cat and The Monkey...

2005-09-26T23:56:00.000+01:00

So the Cat was watching as the chicken strolled along. And the Monkey was watching the cat watch the chicken...

Why'd the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side.

Why'd the chicken cross the road again?
To return where he'd came from.

Why'd the cat cross the road?
He was a copycat.

Why'd the monkey cross the road?
He wanted to ape the chicken and the cat...

The Day I Feared the Rubber Had Failed...

2005-09-20T23:02:00.000+01:00

Whilst doing it* a fortnight ago, I had a scare: after doing it*, I noticed liquid leaking out and pooling, which didn't normally happen. Naturally, my immediate presumption was that the Rubber** that normally prevents my fluids from squirting all over the place during the process had failed. Oh no! And I'd always tried to do it* safely too***. What a disaster!

So, I went out and got a new Rubber**. Well, a pack of five cheap ones, actually - only 69p****. I only wanted one, but they came in fives. I thought that was a strange number, and asked whether Rubbers were available in sex-tet packs, but apparently not. And they weren't particularly thick either, so I was somewhat concerned about their strength and durability, and how well they'd stand up to vigorous activity. But I was assured that they'd do the job.

Unfortunately, the new Rubber(s)** didn't stop the leaking. Oh no. Quite the contrary, my long hose seemed to leak even more! It was practically gushing fluids! I had to keep dabbing at it with tissue paper. What to do, what to do? Should I try screwing it harder? Or gently try to coax it hard again, by gradually increasing the pressure? Or perhaps I shouldn't play with it so much...

Well, this is what I did. I took my 60 inch hose and examined the large head closely. It turned out that some of the ridges had become worn from frequent use, so it wasn't the rubbers. The solution was simple - replace my hose! I needed something at least adequately long (it wouldn't have been any use if it was too short), something that would withstand the stiffness that results from turning on, the pressure of use, and the frequent cycles of becoming hard and going soft again, all without becoming worn out too quickly. But now that I'm a student again and hence on a tight budget, I couldn't afford to pay too much for such a member*****. And in addition, I'd have to perform the operation myself, as professionals charge A LOT for their services here in the UK.

So out I went, to a guy who specialised in supplying that sort of thing. "Can you give me a new hose? Something that performs decently, but not too expensive?" I asked. "Sure, they're GBP5.99," he replied, pointing to a pile of flaccid tubes.

I picked a nice purple****** one out, took it home with me, all excited. Pulled off the old hose and attached the new one. And wha-lah! This one stroke brought it off! Hooray! Now, I can do it* safely and frequently again, without having to worry about possible adverse consequences that might result. What was a very frustrating experience to begin with has ended up a thrilling, exciting and satisfying journey. A fulfilling voyage of self-discovery.

L: View of rubbers** (on top of machine), hoses and one screwdriver.
R: Close-up of problem hose (lower one).

The big knobbly head of my long (cold-water) hose. Notice worn ridges to right side.

*My laundry.
** Rubber Washer, properly-speaking.
*** Water and Electricity don't mix. That can be a fatal combination.
**** Yes, that REALLY was the price.
***** Of my washing machine.
****** Actually blue. It was a bit dark-ish in that dimly-lit shop.

Ladies! Bushy or Bald?

2005-09-18T23:52:00.000+01:00

Ladies!* There's something I'd like to know. Would you prefer a mat of hair? Or skin smooth like a baby's? Would you remove the triangular patch of hair down below, or let it run riot?**

Whilst not particularly hirsute, I usually try to keep clean-shaven. But over the last week or so, I've let my facial hair grow a bit, just out of sheer curiosity. And I don't think the results are pretty, at least as they stand after a week's growth: it'd be nice to have a higher density of hair follicles, and if they were more evenly distributed so I didn't have the odd thin patch here and there.

So what should I do? Shave it all off? Or let the stubble get on with it a bit and see if I can produce a decent mustache/beard?

From a distance...

Up close and personal...

*Guys are welcome and should feel free to comment too, although I only mentioned ladies above.
**With apologies to the dirty-minded, hehe. I wonder what weird search terms this post will generate? ;)

Problems, problems...

2005-09-09T12:54:00.000+01:00

Ever have a week where everything just seems to go wrong?

On Tuesday, a sewage pipe in my friend's house in Nottingham got blocked (see previous post).

On Wednesday night, back in Bradford, I discovered that the Broadband connection in my new home, which was supposed to have been enabled on the 6th, wasn't working. A call to technical support didn't really get me anywhere, so I tried the Faults Department later that night. The chap I spoke to claimed that there was a "long line" warning on my account, and promised to get BT, the telephone company to look into it. I was to ring back the next evening (ie Thursday evening). But when I did so, they didn't have any record of my call! I was told that perhaps my records were with Tech Support, so they transferred me - to NARROWBAND tech support, instead of Broadband Tech Support. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Broadband Tech Support promised to escalate the matter to BT. I've got to call them back in four working days - ie a whole week later. *Sigh*

Having been in Nottingham the previous few days, I'd accumulated some laundry which needed doing. No problems getting the laundry done, but afterwards, the washing machine sprung a leak. Examining the machine, I discovered that the source of the leak was the hose connector that connected the cold water hose to the cold water pipe. I presume that the problem must be a result of a worn washer in the connector, so I went out and obtained a replacement today. Fingers crossed that that does the trick.

The next problem I had to deal with was a leak in the window washer system on my car. I noticed that the water pressure was very low every time I tried to use the washers, and that the water level in the tank was very low despite that I'd only topped it up a couple of weeks ago. So I filled up the tank again and watched for signs of leakage. Nothing happened. I then turned on my wipers - and lo and behold, a huge puddle appeared under the front right side of my car. That suggested that the problem lay in the tubing or connectors. So this morning, I took the car to a (relatively) nearby garage. The mechanic said to give him a few hours, as he had a couple of jobs to attend to first - which is why I'm typing this article from the (dis-)comfort of a public library.

Is anything else going to go wrong? Fingers crossed not...

From Someone Else's Desk...

2005-09-06T16:21:00.000+01:00

This post is a first for me. Previously, I'd always composed my blog articles from the comfort of home. This time, however, what with my having moved to Bradford, I'm using a friend's PC in said friend's home in Nottingham. Not that my friend's place isn't comfortable. It's just weird, different weird, in comparison to that to which I have become accustomed.

So what have I been up to today? Well, let's see: Slept in, woke up and lazed about a bit. Went downstairs around mid-morn, only to discover a massive puddle in the living room. My friend's place has a downstairs toilet located right next to the front door, for some unknown reason. Thankfully, she and her housemates don't use that particular facility... although that DOES beg the question of why it occasionally clogs up from time to time. Anyway, I rang her at work, asking if there was anyone I should call. She decided to ring her landlady herself, but asked me to mop the floor and soak up the water in the carpeted areas with paper and cloth towels.

"There's gloves on the dining room table," she said. Thinking to use my shoe-clad feet to push around the towels, I foolishedly inquired why I needed gloves. "You'll need them to wring the towels," my friend replied. "Ewwwww...," I thought to myself, "I have to wring the towels? That water's probably liberally laced with piss and faeces."

I didn't argue and did as asked. Or at least, I did what I could before going out - I had some administrative tasks to settle, you see. Then it was lunch with Vincent. We went to Yun's, a new Cantonese restaurant in the little town of Beeston. I chose to sup on congee with fish and beef balls - simple but nice. Vincent, meanwhile, had the char siew chow mein, which he didn't regard as being anything special but reasonable for the price. We also ordered some u-char-koay, which was amusingly listed in the menu as "fried sticks."

After dropping Vincent home, I went back to trying to soak the toilet water out of the carpets. I'd rather have had a nap, being sleepy as I was due to lunch and the heat (uncharacteristic of September - more reminescent of August, really), but duty called. And shortly afterwards, I had to go out again for a joint inspection (with an Estate Agent) of my old apartment. That completed satisfactorily, I dropped by the local Sainsbury's to get something for dinner. Then more towel wringing, followed by some blogging (ie this article) as a break.

It's time for dinner now. And then, soon, I will be setting off to work. Don't tell the pharmacy owner, but I would really rather be spending the evening napping!

Me, Reverse Snob (or Happy Merdeka Day, Malaysia)

2005-08-31T10:56:00.000+01:00

The last time I was back in Malaysia on holiday, over Chinese New Year earlier this year, my brother remarked that he thought I was, in his words, a "reverse snob".

His reasoning went like this: many Malaysians go abroad to study for one to three years, and return home affecting foreign accents. In contrast, I've been studying and working in the UK for nearly twelve years, yet every time I come home, I "show off" a Malaysian accent, in that I sound exactly the same as I did before I first left for the UK.

In a sense, it is true to say that I've deliberately maintained my Malaysian accent. But I've not done so to "show off" in any way. Rather, unlike many I've encountered, I've always been secure in my self-identity (Malaysian-Chinese "Pisang Raja" Man), and very much proud to be Malaysian.

That is not to say that I don't have my grouses about life in Malaysia. Pet hates, amongst others, include an educational system which I am convinced failed me in many ways (I won' t go into detail here), a transportation network that makes it almost impossible to get about easily if you don't own a car, the pervasiveness of bribery, cronyism and nepotism, and the seeming inability of most Malaysians to form a polite queue.

On the other hand, Malaysia has so much going for it. Great food, a dynamic and thriving economy, landmark buildings many other countries would die for and abundant natural resources (including a largely-untapped richness of biodiversity that could potentially hold many future pharmaceutical miracles). And I particularly enjoy social aspects such as our amusingly-mangled take on the English language (Where got like that one, you say? Got-lah, and I wanna talk like this oso, can or not?), chatting over teh-tarik at the late night mamaks and doing the rounds of friends' houses at Hari Raya, Chinese New Year and Deepavali.

In my opinion, the above and many other unmentioned positives far outweight all the negatives. Despite seeking my fortune abroad, I remain proud to call Malaysia home, and to regard myself as Malaysian. I look forward to being able to return to KL for good one day in the hopefully not-too-distant future, and being able to contribute positively to the development of the country. Till then, I will content myself with periodic observations of the amazing strides that seem to keep occurring in the intervals between my visits home.

Vision 2020? Malaysia Boleh! Happy Merdeka Day, Malaysia!

Dunce Award

2005-08-29T07:33:00.000+01:00

I come across a lot of really silly people in my line of work. Today was a case in point, but one young lady in particular stood out. I'm seriously thinking of awarding her Dunce of the Year...

This girl came into the pharmacy and asked for two packs of a an over-the-counter painkiller.

Me: "May I ask why you want two packs?"
Her: "Oh, one's for me and the other's for my mother."
Me: "Ok."

So far so good. I ring her purchase into the till, and she hands me a GBP5 note which her mother'd given her. The change due her was GBP1.02, so I got out a pound coin and a two-penny piece. Whilst I was retrieving her change, she reached into the chiller for a drink.

Me: "Here's your change (from earlier). That bottle's 87 pence. Shall I take it from the pound coin?"
Her: "That's ok, I've got the money."

You'd think she was intending to give me exact change, right? Well, that's not quite what happened. No. Instead, she pocketed the pound coin I gave her, reached into another pocket and handed me a different pound coin.

*Rolls eyes*

Murder in Broad Daylight

2005-08-28T21:34:00.000+01:00

Today, I witnessed a gruesome incident. One that chilled me to the bone. Can there be anything worse than the killing of a young innocent?

A mother had fought hard to defend her space, to keep her young ones safe.

She aggressively saw off all comers, including a number of big burly males.

And then, after all that effort, for some inexplicable reason, she abandoned two of her offspring in the open.

Alone and vulnerable, they were immediately set upon by hostile adults.

The two little ones fled in opposite directions.

One was lucky enough to reach and lose its pursuers amongst the shelter of some foliage.

The unfortunate other was caught out in the open, and eaten alive in one mouthful.

It's a tough life, that of a juvenile Maylandia sp. cichlid in the aquarium at work...

An adult Maylandia estherae.

Merdeka: A Symbolic Move...

2005-08-26T09:25:00.000+01:00

The 31st of August is Merdeka Day. Malaysia's Independence Day. And hopefully, Merdeka Day this year will prove a milestone and turning point in my life. A day when I break, for better or worse, with all I have striven for over the past decade or so.

Many many years ago, during A-levels (ie in my late teens, for those of you not familiar with A-levels), I made a decision to read for a degree in pharmacy. Why pharmacy? Well, it seemed the "responsible" thing to do, at the time.

After having examined a whole range of possible career options and considering my aptitudes and interests, I settled on a shortlist of four: investment banking, law, pharmacy and medicine. But counsellors and other adults I turned to for opinions generally advised against investment banking and law, suggesting that these fields were saturated. In contrast, there was (and still is) a shortage of pharmacists and doctors. Conventional wisdom had it that you'd never want for a job if you were a member of either profession.

Comparing medicine and pharmacy, the former seemed the more attractive as a career choice. But having been brought up on a diet of Enid Blyton, I was quite the anglophile and wanted to do the whole of my degree in England. Discussing the subject of finance with my mother, I came away with the impression that a British degree in medicine would have been unaffordable; alternatively, I could undertake said degree but my siblings would be forced to read for twinned (or even local) degrees, which didn't seem fair to me.

So pharmacy it was. I went to university in England, enjoyed my studies and excelled, graduating with First Class Honours and garnering several academic prizes along the way. I also did well in the subsequent pre-registration training year. Following that, I successfully read for a PhD in molecular microbiology. (Other pharmacy graduates I knew read for PhDs in subjects as diverse as organic chemistry, pharmacology and clinical pharmacy, proving how versatile the broad-based pharmacy degree is.)

During the course of my PhD, the pharmacy degree proved useful financially: I was able to handily supplement the meagre cost-of-living stipend that came with my PhD scholarship by working part-time as a community (retail) pharmacist. In the UK, research workers are poorly-paid relative to many other occupations. Community pharmacy is one such other occupation and so, upon completing that PhD, I sold my soul to the devil (so to speak) and opted to become a full-time community pharmacist rather than to stay in research.

Trouble is, I don't really find community pharmacy particularly inspiring as a career. I feel my brain vegetating, decaying away. I feel a need for intellectual stimulation, yearn for something more analytical. And so, I've made a decision: I will undertake an MBA to facilitate a career switch, hopefully to investment banking or strategic management consultancy.

And I shall be moving away from Nottingham, away from life as a community pharmacist, on the 31st of August. Merdeka Day. Another new dawn for me. Wish me luck.

I am Immune to Thrush!

2005-08-21T22:51:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, my customers say the funniest things. Today, a lady came into the pharmacy and asked my Assistant for a thrush treatment.

According to pharmacy protocol, Assistants have to refer patients to me if the patients have had more than one episode of thrush in the previous six months in the absence of certain specific mitigating factors which predispose to yeast infections (eg courses of antibiotic). In this case, my Assistant decided that referral was necessary and so came into the dispensary and asked me to intervene.

So I stepped out. And immediately, to my amusement, the lady went: "It's ok, I'm immune to thrush - I get it all the time."

The One That Got Away

2005-08-09T23:43:00.000+01:00

The One That Got Away...

She was The One.

And now she is no more.

Everything a man could ask for, everything a red-blooded male could desire... And to my misfortunate, I missed out on having her by a day. A single gut-wrenching, heart-breaking accursed day. How it hurts, to think that I have no one to blame but myself for not having acted sooner: I rue my tardiness, regret my procrastination. But I have this unfortunate tendency to think too much, over-ponder my moves - and my resistance of spontaneity, my unwillingness to let my heart dictate my actions, leads to bitterly-missed opportunities like this one.

It is said that the good are always taken early. Such is life. There is no use in wailing my misery, no gain in gnashing my teeth; I will be strong, I will resist the urge to howl the pain and sorrow of this tragic loss, this cruel twist of fate, to the uncaring heavens*.

So, I shall instead celebrate her memory here.

Slim and beautiful, she nonetheless possessed a brain capable of crunching numbers and solving complex equations at a pace respectable by anyone's standards, with a memory to match. Bright as crystal to look at, she was able to convey detailed images with a vividity and subtlety of expression that many would have found difficult to emulate. She was more amenable to game-playing than many of her compatriots; in fact, part of her was dedicated to that sort of thing. And when it came to networking, believe me, she had few peers.

With such traits, you'd imagine that she'd have cost me a lot.

But you'd be wrong.

For the highly-rated Acer Aspire 3023WLMi could have been had for a mere £629.95 (including Value Added Tax, VAT). For that price, you got a respectable AMD Sempron 3000+ processor, coupled with 512MB of RAM and an 80GB Hard Disk. Other goodies included an ATI Mobility Radeon X700 128MB dedicated graphics card, a DVD dual layer re-writer, a 6-in-1 card-reader, integrated wireless 802.11b/g LAN and 10/100/1000 MBPS ethernet cards, and a 15.4" screen with Acer's proprietary CrystalBrite technology. There is nothing else of comparable value currently on the UK market. My guess is that Acer belatedly realised this: that they'd cut their prices too far in attempting to be competitive. And so they pulled the 3023WLMi just a scant few weeks after introducing it - on the day I decided to purchase it!

*Worry not about me, dear Readers. For I have found another: the Acer Aspire 3022WLMi has an AMD Sempron 2800+ processor at its heart, a 60GB Hard Drive and an ATI graphics card with 64MB of dedicated memory. These are lesser specs, but at £575.75 (including VAT), the 3022WLMi is still almost as good value-for-money.

Algebraic Confusion

2005-08-04T12:12:00.000+01:00

I'd be really good at algebra - if only I could remember the rules!

Can anyone help me out with the following?

Given that: expected return on assets = (proportion in debt x expected return on debt) + (proportion in equity x expected return on equity, or

rA = (D/[D+E] x rD) + (E/[D+E] x rE)

It seems to me that expected return on equity, rE, should be:

rE = rA - rD(D/E)

But the model answer is:

rE = rA + (rA - rD)D/E

What am I doing wrong?

Corned Duck - A Novel Recipe...

2005-08-02T22:01:00.000+01:00

Today, I tried to help out a fellow Blogger (who wishes to remain anonymous) who had a craving for duck*. Yahoo Messenger conversation follows:

v13** : Now I have a friend sending me pics of Peking duck from Beijing and making me want to eat duck
YL: lol
YL: Throw something at your housemate and bite her whilst she bends over...
v13 : EWWWWWWW
v13 : you corny.
YL: ;)

*Wow, this Blog o' mine's turning into a regular food blog.
**Name changed to protect identity of the err... innocent(?).

Humour Corny Or Suitably Beefy?

2005-07-28T23:32:00.000+01:00

FS thinks I crack too many corny jokes. She kept pleading with me to stop, when we were having lunch*.

Vysia, on the other hand, says I'm idiotic in a bovine way...**

Ju Li rolls her eyes and apparently once wanted to whack me for tactlessness, whilst Elaine complains about the bite of my humour***.

So what does everyone else say? Am I good or bad?*****

*Although I don't recall ever mentioning anything about vegetables to her.
**Just kidding. Actually, on one occasion we were making jokes that she described as oxymoronic; on another, she expressed her appreciation of the oxymoronic nature of the title of one of my posts. Vysia generally regards my humour as being quite dry...****
***Elaine: once bitten, twice shy? Be careful what you wish for, hehe).
**** Does that mean that my jokes are well-done or overly-cooked? Oh well, at least I can rule out half-baked and soggy...
*****I hope you've all concluded that I'm Bad. Maybe I'm just a silly goose, but just for once I wanna be a horsey Bad Boy coz such cocky stallions apparently have more animalistic fun (cowing birds) and I wanna join 'em in pigging out at the trough (I was born a Tiger, here me roar). Alas, Lilian thinks my blog is so tamely wholesome as to be suitable for the entire family to digest. And Reta and Sapphire, quite unsupportively in my opinion, contend that Bad doesn't suit me (perhaps they've pigeon-holed me as chicken? I hope this issue doesn't dog me; I don't want to have to keep ducking such fowl insinuations). Naturally, I choose to disagree, but otherwise, I have no beef with all three of 'em as they weren't trying to be catty.

Insy Weensy Yes, Ponsy No...

2005-07-27T23:11:00.000+01:00

There can be few - if any - things in this world that would appear more delicate, more fragile, than a spider's web. Yet, these fine silk creations are immensely strong for what they are: believe it or not, a strand of arachnid thread possesses greater tensile strength than a length of steel of comparable diameter!

Recently, I have had a number of opportunities to witness firsthand ample evidence of the durability and toughness of spider silk. If you peer hard enough, you may just be able to make out a spider's web spun between the wing mirror and right front door of my car in the photograph below. I first noticed this particular web on the day I took Vysia out on that day trip around the Peak District a few weeks ago. And it's STILL there today, despite its having had to endure a number of motorway journeys at speeds in excess of 70mph AND un-British bouts of heavy rain of the torrential variety that more commonly precipitates in Malaysia! Ain't nature just amazing?

Vysia's Vysit

2005-07-24T22:09:00.000+01:00

A Break From The Routine

Fellow Blogger Vysia recently paid me a vysit. On holiday from her teaching degree course, she wanted to see more of England, so I agreed to show her round the Peak District. Unfortunately, time constraints meant ve could only manage a day trip there on July 14th - Vysia arrived on the night of the 13th, and had to leave on the afternoon of the 15th. Attractions ve took in included The Heights of Abraham (where the picture below was taken; highlights included a cable car ride and a tour of a now-defunct lead mine), Chatham House (a grand mansion; ve only looked around the spacious grounds) and Speedvell Cavern (featuring a boat-trip through a partially-flooded underground defunct lead mine).

No Sex Please, I'm Cheap...

2005-07-22T20:57:00.000+01:00

A woman rings me this afternoon. It seems she's run out of her contraceptive pill and is too busy to see the doctor for a new prescription. I explain that if I dispensed her some tablets as an Emergency Supply rather than on a prescription, she'd have to pay for her tablets (a few pounds sterling, whereas contraceptive tablets are normally free when dispensed on NHS prescriptions). And this is what she quipped in reply:

"I would rather not have sex (than pay)."

I'm Back!

2005-07-21T23:40:00.000+01:00

Oh, Thank the Lord! After enduring approximately three painful weeks of mind numbingly-slow dial-up internet access, I have my beloved Broadband again! I'm so happy I think I might be going delirious... :)

My ordeal started one stormy Tuesday night (yeah, Snoopy-esque, I know). Anyway, there was a bright flash in the sky and then car alarms started going off. Shortly afterwards, my internet connection dropped. I figured lightning must have struck nearby. Called my Internet Service Provider (ISP) to report the problem; they said that lightning had struck my local exchange, and that I should be back online by early next morning.

Tech Support were wrong though: come next morning, I was still without internet access. I called Tech Support, and they walked me through most of their routines, without success, before I had to go to work. The troubleshooting continued went I got home, and through most of the next day. They finally decided that it was a line problem and that my problem had to be escalated to British Telecoms (BT), the telephone company-cum-broadband wholesaler. And I managed to arrange temporary dial-up access for the mean-time. But all that occurred only after about another dozen phone calls (and several exasperatingly frustrating hours on the phone, spent mainly on hold or repeating my story in detail to mostly-helpless/clueless procedure-bound and sometimes plain idiotic Level 1 Techies/Customer Service Reps based in call centres in INDIA), after I'd first raised the problem with my ISP.

You'd have thought that that would have been the end of it, right? Well, unfortunately, no. It took yet another dozen or so phone calls over the next two weeks, another several hours on the phone, before my problem was finally sorted. Why so many phone calls, and why so long? Well, quite often, somebody or other's systems would be down. Naturally, they'd only tell me that they couldn't help AFTER I'd spent half an hour trying to get through to Level 1 Tech Support and AFTER I'd explained the problem and what had been done about it to date. Or only after I'd been put on hold for another 15-30 minutes whilst being passed from Level 1 to the Faults Department (and the same again if I was "lucky" enough to be put through on the rare occasion to Level 2 Tech Support). Grrrr!!!

Anyway, to cut a very long story short, a BT engineer eventually decided that my (relatively ancient) three-year-old modem must have become defective. He rang me to advise that I ask my ISP for a new modem, as it would have taken longer if I simply waited for his report to trickle through the system.

The saga didn't end there. When I rang my ISP, their systems were (predictably) down. It was the same story the next night. But third time's a charm - I finally caught them with their pants up for a change, and they promised a new modem in three or four days. And true to their word (and my disbelieving relief), it duly arrived yesterday. Joy oh joy - Happy Days are here again. :)

Insecti-sui-cide...

2005-06-19T23:53:00.000+01:00

It's been really hot lately here in the UK, with temperatures breaching 30C in parts of England. Thank God the pharmacy had air-conditioning installed last year. A large fly obviously appreciated the coolness of the pharmacy interior, and decided to hang out with us. But it must have gotten awfully bored with our company, or decided that life wasn't worth living for some other unknown reason, and decided to terminate its own existence...

My assistant had just made me a fresh cup of tea in the evening. I reached for the cup, but the fly beat me to it - it arrowed straight into the scalding-hot liquid. It struggled helplessly for a couple of seconds and then went quite still, sinking just below the surface.

Death by boiling AND drowning. What a way to go...

Unfortunate Names. For Real!

2005-06-13T00:01:00.000+01:00

Some parents either must have a really warped sense of humour, or fail to think through the possible mockery that can be made of the names they choose for their children. Obvious no-nos include such exotica as "Apple", "Brooklyn" and "Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily".

But it turns out that even seemingly humdrum and ordinary first names can be unfortunate choices when combined with certain surnames. For example, according to a recent breakfast show I caught on TV, there are at least two people in the UK who have the surname Janus, and the first name Hugh. Really. No kidding.

That name wouldn't be out of place in The Simpsons. I can imagine the following (prank phone call) exchange between Bart and Moe:

Bart: "Hello! I'd like to speak to Mr Janus, first name Hugh."
Moe: "Have I got a Hugh Janus? Everyone, have I got a Hugh Janus?"

The Commonly Confused Words Test

2005-06-12T19:56:00.000+01:00

Like a challenge? Try shortredhead78's Commonly Confused Words Test. Came across this little quiz on minishorts.net.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

English Genius
You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 93% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 63% on Beginner
You scored higher than 55% on Intermediate
You scored higher than 76% on Advanced
You scored higher than 92% on Expert

Link: The Commonly Confused Words Test written by shortredhead78 on OkCupid Free Online Dating

The I Am Holier Than Thou Blogger's Baton

2005-06-10T22:51:00.000+01:00

Vincent recently tagged me with the meme 'The I am Holier than thou Blogger's Baton'. This meme was conceived by CK of Minishorts, so please direct any and all complaints and abuse to her, hehe. ;)

LAST BLOG I READ WAS :
Minishorts.net

I THINK MY BLOG IS WAY BETTER THAN THAT BLOG ABOVE BECAUSE :
Errr... Dunno. Because I scored higher than CK in the The Commonly Confused Words Test? ;p

IMO, THE BEST ENTRY I HAVE EVER BLOGGED IS :
Unlovable! (Or "Why I'm STILL Single"). I think. Mainly because this entry attracted the largest number of comments of all the articles I've written to date.

FIVE BLOGS THAT MAY BE BETTER THAN MINE :

1) Viewtru - My choice for Malaysian Blog of the Year. Original, funny, irreverent, etc.

2) Kenny Sia - similar to above but more pictorial; my choice for Neophyte Blog of the Year.

3) Belacans - yet another funny guy.

4) Kuishinbomeow - Updated regularly, always interesting content (frequently on a subject close to my heart - food) and well-illustrated (sometimes TOO well: gets my stomach all worked up, dang it).

5) Wild Orchid - The quality of this little gal's English belies her age (a mere dozen-and-a-half years young).

I KNOW MY READERS ARE ADDICTED TO MY BLOG BECAUSE :
I lace my writings with MSG, coke and other habit-forming substances... Not. ;) Maybe. ;)

I PASS THIS TO :
Reta
Sapphire
Dennis & Phan

Me, Sex God?

2005-06-09T10:21:00.000+01:00

You know, I'm starting to think most online quizzes are hopelessly inaccurate. Just did one entitled "How Are You In Bed" that I came across on Fish Fish's blog, and guess what? Apparently, I'm a Sex God! Me! A Master at sex. Well, I don't believe it. In all honesty, I think the results are simply a reflection of my being well-read and my placing a very high importance on trying to satisfy one's partner, and NOT necessarily any indication of my experience and/or skill-levels.

You scored as Sex God. You are a master at sex. You make your partner weak in the knees, and you know it. You've had the practice, and you've read the books, but don't get too cocky (pun intended) or you'll get put into place.

Sex God

88%

A Romantic

68%

A Slave To BDSM

65%

Virgin

48%

How are you in bed
created with QuizFarm.com

Beethoven

2005-06-03T21:46:00.000+01:00

BBC2 aired the first of three parts of a moving and inspiring docudrama about the great Ludwig van today. This giant of a man is one of my heroes. The heroic way he struggled against the odds, the way he clung to his idealism, his principles. And of course, his often sublime music*.

Beethoven was born into a family of court musicians, but he seems to have inherited his talent from his granddad, rather than his dad. Unfortunately for the young Ludwig, his mum wasn't a very good mother. And worse: his dad became a drunkard who frittered away his salary. A keyboard virtuoso, Ludwig got his first job (as a deputy court organist) at the tender age of 13, and soon, his family came to rely on his income. Ludwig eventually got fed up, and petitioned his father's paymaster to give Ludwig half his father's salary.

Eventually, it became obvious that Beethoven would have to move to Vienna to fulfil his potential. Initially, he became a student of the living legend that was Joseph Haydn. The fiercely independent Ludwig was determined to carve his own path, however, and had many a disagreement with Haydn. But nonetheless, the great man (Haydn) was proud to have Beethoven as a student.

Beethoven became a great success in Vienna. For example, "improvisation duels" were common amongst musicians, and Ludwig was the shoot-out king. Such was his burgeoning reputation that he soon became able to name his price.

Unfortunately, all was not truly well for Beethoven. His hearing started to go, normally a career-killing event for a musician. He started shunning people, giving the impression of being anti-social, of being gruff. His fiancee decided against marrying him. He experienced a number of embarrassing situations, such as the breakdown of a performance of a concert of his works that he was conducting, after he lost touch with what the orchestra were doing.

But Beethoven faced the crisis head on. Where other mortals would probably have lost the will to live, Ludwig refused to give in, he did not succumb. In fact, he went on to write many of his greatest works after he went completely deaf, breaking new ground and setting the standard for future composers.

* Recommendations: Symphony Nos. 3 (Eroica), 5, 6 (Pastoral), 7 and 9 (Choral); Sonata Nos. 8 (Pathetique) and 14 (Moonlight); Egmont Overture.

Caught In The Act...

2005-05-31T22:20:00.000+01:00

There's a woman, AF, who comes to the pharmacy at which I work every now and again bearing prescriptions for (amongst other things) oxycodone* tablets and capsules. A bit of a dodgy character who's "tried it on" at my pharmacy before (but before my time), she appears to move house every now and again (her address changes from time to time). And my staff tell me that she's even changed her name at least once in the distance past.

AF almost inevitably chooses to turn up at days and times (ie weekends and/or nights) when her usual GP surgery is shut, making it impossible to verify the authenticity of her scripts on the spot. But occasionally, her prescriptions are from the Emergency Doctors Service, in which case the onus falls on the Emergency Doctor to verify the legitimacy of her claimed pain-killing need.

The Monday just past was a Bank Holiday**. And guess what happened? AF walked in around 6pm, when all the other pharmacies had shut for the day, and handed my assistant a prescription. The prescription had originally been for Dovobet ointment only, but had been clearly altered (with a non-matching pen) to include oxycodone tablets and capsules. AF claimed that the doctor had forgotten initially to prescribe her oxycodone, and had altered the prescription when she took it back to him***.

Naturally, I was suspicious. Doctors know very well that oxycodone is a Controlled Drug of the highest order. It is unlikely (though not impossible) that one would have chosen to alter the prescription in such a suspicious manner. And of course, her timing was such that there was no way of my contacting the prescriber (although I tried nonetheless). That's not all: the prescription's date had been altered to the 28th of May, a Friday. She could easily have collected her medication that day, rather than waiting for the end of a Bank Holiday weekend, when chances were high(est) that the few pharmacies open might all have run out of supplies (which I can assure you that she would already have known, from prior experience). Why would someone truly in need of such powerful medication run the risk of running out and not being able to get some more?

Hence, I decided to give AF just six tablets (three doses, enough to get her through Tuesday, in case she'd really been telling the truth), explaining the problems with the prescription and how I'd dispense her the remainder after I'd sorted things out with her doctor. However, since I was only doing the Tuesday 6pm-9pm shift, so I actually left a note for a colleague to look into the prescription for me. And when I went into work today, he informed me that the Surgery had denied having altered the prescription for her. As I'd requested in my note, my colleague had informed the appropriate authorities, including the police. And apparently, a Drugs Squad officer will be coming to interview me tomorrow. I look forward to speaking to him, and to seeing justice done.

*Oxycodone, a very powerful pain-killer, is classified as a Controlled Drug in the UK.
** ie a Public Holiday, when regular GP surgeries (amongst others) are shut.
*** Yeah, right.

Me, An Expert Casanova?

2005-05-30T22:50:00.000+01:00

To my utter disbelief and frank amazement, I today discovered that one of my blog articles has been linked up by a dating tips website, seduce-women.net.

Said article, "Unlovable", is listed under the heading of "Resources on the secret of chatting single girls"*. Hahaha! Perhaps I wonder if I could perhaps make a career of being an Agony Uncle? ;)

*I pity the fool who uses me as his role model**. ;)
** But then again, maybe seduce-women.net meant my article as an example of what NOT to do...

A Dream Come True

2005-05-30T22:23:00.000+01:00

A Change From The Routine, Part II

It's not often that one can say that one's had a dream come true. But on Friday, I was sufficiently fortunate to have such an experience...

Rather than passing the time watching television, KP and I ended up chatting Thursday night away at my place. Our conversation was wide-ranging, touching on a whole host of topics, from work to relationships (for example). When we finally retired for the night, it was approximately 3am!

Under normal circumstances, I'm usually in bed by 12am or 1am at the latest. And I do need my eight hours. Preferably nine-and-a-half, even. So left to my own devices, I'd probably have slept till half ten or eleven in the morning. But it turns out that KP is a habitual early-riser, who's unable to sleep past 7am (she makes up for sleep deficits by going to bed earlier). She let me sleep on a bit, before rousing me at about 9am.

Normally, I would have been disgruntled (to say the least) to have been awaken so "early". But instead, I woke up feeling rather amused. Why? Because I'd just had the most amusing dream: that KP had given me a hug, whilst saying that she normally only hugged white guys; I'd responded in dream by saying that I was honoured.

Presumably, my brain had rearranged some of what KP and me had talked about the night before. For instance, KP's current boyfriend is a Caucasian male. I told KP about the dream, making her laugh. She went on to say that there was some truth in what she supposedly said in my dream: she'd hug her male Caucasian friends, but not her male Oriental ones! This was apparently because she thought that the latter, being generally more conservative about such things, might interpret the hug "the wrong way".

Later that morning, just before we went out sightseeing, I jokingly asked her for a hug, saying that this was a unique opportunity to make one of my dreams come true. She agreed, and did as requested*.

And so, I can now legitimately claim to have had at least one of my dreams come true, haha!

*But neither she nor I** will be telling her boyfriend, as he'd probably get mad at her.
** I don't really fancy the idea of getting beaten up by an irate, jealous boyfriend***. ;)
*** So none of you readers out there had better spill the beans to him. Or else!****
**** Else I get beaten up. :p

Teaser II

2005-05-29T22:00:00.000+01:00

Teaser I

2005-05-29T21:58:00.000+01:00

I Made Another Guy Jealous!

2005-05-27T21:13:00.000+01:00

A Change From The Routine, Part I

Because of my unconventional working week, I don't have a "real-life" social life most weeks*. Instead, my days off are routinely filled with solitary activities ranging from hobbies such as reading, surfing the net, blogging and watching TV to the carrying out of mundane chores such as laundry, cleaning and so on. But every once in a while, I do manage to meet up with one or more friends. And I had one such welcome break from my habitual routine on Thursday.

KP has just finished her medical degree elsewhere in the UK, and will be starting as a Junior House Officer at one of my city's two major hospitals in August. In preparation for said job, she started "shadowing" the current junior doctors on their rounds last week. And when it turned out that she would be free on Thursday and Friday, she sent me an SMS to update me on her new circumstances.

Dinner
It'd been a long while (possibly something like a year-and-a-half) since we'd last met up, and since we were both free, we decided to do dinner. We ate at a nice Thai restaurant - I forget the names of the dishes, but the bill came to GBP30 for three dishes and rice for two**. And then it was off to a nearby cineplex to catch Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith.

The Gym
On the way to the cinema, we walked past my gym (which, incidentally, I've neglected to visit for many moons now). KP'd mentioned wanting to join one, so I showed her around. This gym's kind of unusual in that it has separate facilities for men and women. And whilst women are able to use the men's gym, I'd been under the impression that the reverse was not true. But the lady at reception said I could go with KP into the women's gym. And you know what? She was wrong! "I'm going to have to ask you to leave (the women's gym)," the Supervising Instructor informed me, to my mild embarrassment.

Revenge of the Sith
A number of critics (and non-critics) have panned this latest instalment of the Star Wars series, but both KP and myself found it enjoyable overall. Ok, admittedly, Anakin's transformation from good guy to totally-evil tyrant accelerated rather abruptly towards the end. And the circumstances and events that drove this very dramatic change of heart might have seemed a bit lacking as justifying factors, making it possibly seem somewhat implausible. I presume that the producers deliberately chose to gloss over this crucial metamorphosis because a more detailed character exposition would have required that the film be lengthened considerably. They could, of course, have sacrificed some of the time devoted to extensive battle scenes and fight sequences. But then again, doing so would have been a commercial no-no, given that the average cinema-goer would likely have paid their money mainly to see the action, rather than for a more cogent storyline.

Seen as a summary of events setting the stage for the original "trilogy", I felt that Revenge of the Sith was an adequate, entertaining work. And the accompanying (recycled) musical score remained as thrilling as ever.

I Make A Boyfriend Jealous
One of the topics of conversation over dinner was the (poor) state of KP's spartan lodgings at the hospital. She complained about the atrocious state of the communal kitchen (for instance, the microwave was broken) and how she'd been terribly bored at nights, as there was no public TV in the communal lounge. The other residents had their own personal TVs, but they hardly ever came out of their rooms, and not really knowing them, she felt too shy to ask if she could watch TV with them. So I took pity on her, and offered her the chance to spend the night at my place, where she could watch TV to her heart's content. Naturally, she jumped at the opportunity - but her boyfriend was none too pleased when she called him to let him know***!

- To Be Continued...

* Yes, I'm aware that I'm a sad bloke. :p ;)
** Ouch! My pocket hurts - that's a typical weekly grocery bill spent on one meal.
*** Hehehe, I'm surprised that any guy might feel threatened by little ol' me. ;)

"You're Like A Father To Me..."

2005-05-22T19:31:00.000+01:00

"You're like a father to me..." Believe it or not, that's how one of my customers describes me. And she's said the same of me to other members of my staff. And this is not some child or teenager, or even some young adult. No, this is an old lady ("JB") in her sixties or seventies!

Her brother ("NB") is an even older and very poorly gentleman for whom I prepare medication dossettes. He became a regular patient at the pharmacy at which I work sometime in the last few months. Since then, NB's been in and out of hospital a couple of times, and a respite care home once. Each time such an event occurs, his complex medication regimen gets altered in some way, according to his physical condition.

When not in hospital or respite care, NB insists on living on his own. But being as poorly as he is, he is reliant on JB, his sole close, living relative, to run around fetching his prescriptions and medications (amongst other things) for him. Luckily for him, JB is a very nice lady who is willing to take on such responsibilities on his behalf.

Being concerned about NB but occasionally a bit confused by his complex, ever-changing medication regimens, JB often asks me about his medications. She gets me to point out and record for her the changes that hospital specialists make to his regimens. JB then orders NB's prescriptions from his GP, and relies on me to check to ensure that his GP has provided appropriately-amended prescriptions (which doesn't always happen, in which case I arrange for new corrected prescriptions).

JB obviously thinks I've been doing a good job, as she keeps praising me (both to my face and to other staff) for my patience and helpfulness. And she always asks for me when she comes in, even though she STILL can't remember my name, haha. And today, the old dear amused (and bemused) me when she came in to pick up a medicine we owed her: she announced that she was in the next few hours to become a grandmother for the first time - and that she was thinking of making me the child's Godfather*! Anyway, it's nice to be appreciated; quite a pleasant change from the usual verbal-abuse from yobs and idiots. :)

*I'm sure she was just joking... Or so I hope!

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

2005-05-18T22:37:00.000+01:00

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - And Clothes, And Furnishings, And Etc

My apartment currently reeks. My clothes smell. And it's all the fault of a recipe for Roasted Hoisin Pork I chanced across on the internet some time ago.

On Tuesday, purely on a whim, I decided to try out the recipe. The instructions were essentially as follows: liberally smother a chunk of pork with Hoisin sauce. Oven-roast (in a pre-heated oven) for 30 minutes per half kilo at 180C. Baste, then cook for another 30 minutes at 220C.

I bought a 2.5 kg chunk of pork leg and stuck it in the oven for 2 1/2 hours at 180C, as per the instructions. So far so good - the meat was looking good and smelled great when I retrieved it for basting.

After replacing the meat in the oven and turning up the heat as instructed, I went out to do some grocery shopping. On returning after half an hour, I was shocked to find my apartment filled with smoke. Fearing the worst, I first rushed to turn off the oven, and then to open the windows (the smoke dissipated relatively quickly, but a distinct and somewhat sweet-ish aroma permeated most of the apartment and lingers even now). Carefully opening the oven, I was disappointed (but unsurprised) to find that the pork had gone all black.

But all was not lost. After allowing the meat to cool a bit, I carefully dissected it with knife and fork. Thankfully, it turned out that only the meat on the surface had burnt, with the damage extending inwards about 0.5cm. The rest of the meat was none-the-worse for the experience, with much of it remaining quite succulent (and tasty!).

Next time round (if there is a next time), you can be sure I'll be omitting the 220C step!

Bad Girls

2005-05-15T22:12:00.000+01:00

This afternoon, following a quiet spell, I received a gigantic script. More accurately, there were 24 items (including two Controlled Drugs) on several prescriptions, all for a single patient(!). And naturally (inevitably, you might say), as Sod's Law would have it, a whole bunch of people bearing short prescriptions and some other customers chose to come into the pharmacy right after.

I am delighted to be able to report that all those people waited patiently, without complaint. All save a raucous bunch of teenage girls, that is.

The oldest-looking of the bunch asked my Assistant about purchasing the "Morning-After" ("Levonelle") contraceptive pill; my Assistant got her to fill in a questionnaire (intended to save me having to conduct a long interview) and informed her that there would be a long wait, possibly 15 minutes. But despite having been given fair warning about the long estimated waiting time, instead of quietly waiting their rightful turn as everyone else was, the girls appeared to feel obliged to voice complaints at least twice during the next ten minutes, claiming they had important things to do elsewhere.

Now, I'm sure everyone else in the pharmacy had important things to be doing elsewhere too. And their affairs would probably have been just as urgent, if not more pressing, than whatever the girls had in mind. So I didn't allow them to rush me, or to jump the queue.

And when I got to them, looking at the very first question on the questionnaire, I discovered that the girl who'd filled it in was aged under 16. The question was immediately followed by a sentence explaining very clearly that we were unable to provide Levonelle to under-16s, except on a doctor's prescription. But the girl had either decided to ignore said advice or not bothered to read it and gone on to complete the questionnaire.

I asked the girl how old she was, she replied "15." So I pointed out the information in Question 1, and explained to her that I was unable to sell her the pill and that she'd have to go to the NHS Walk-In Centre instead. She protested that a) it was too far away (really only a ten-to-fifteen minute walk), b) that she had important things to do elsewhere, c) that they'd been to five other pharmacies already and been referred by all to us, and d) then claimed that she was really just filling the form for a friend who WAS 16 but who was too embarrassed to do the form herself. Another girl chimed in claiming to be the 16 year old in question. Of course, very (in)conveniently, she happened not to have any proof of age on her whatsoever.

A third girl claimed that pharmacists WERE allowed to sell Levonelle to Under-16s. I countered that it was only a few pharmacies taking part a pilot scheme that were allowed to do that, but she insisted that ALL other pharmacies in the area were able to do so. Yeah, right. So how come they'd been turned away by five other pharmacies (if that) before coming to me (those five pharmacies can't possibly have ALL been out of stock)? And wasn't it a bit presumptuous of her, trying to tell me what I could or could not do - in effect, trying to tell me how to do my job? Did she somehow imagine she could pull the wool over my eyes? I wasn't the least bit impressed by their attitude(s), by their rude tones of voice and choices of words.

So I stood firm. Told them I didn't believe the second girl was sixteen, or that she was even the actual patient. And they'd have to go to the Walk-In Centre if they wanted Levonelle. And that that was that.

They left in a huff.

Good riddance to bad rubbish, in my opinion.

Time For An Upgrade

2005-05-13T13:01:00.000+01:00

Download Firefox 1.0.4

Up till recently, Microsoft's Internet Explorer (IE) dominated the internet browser market, with a share in excess of 95%. But IE was riddled with security (and other) problems. Then along came an upstart - the non-profit Mozilla Foundation's open-source Firefox browser. This browser has been making steady in-roads into IE's market share. Its share now stands at just under 7%, whereas IE's has fallen to just under 89%. The increasing popularity of Firefox has been attributed to its having far fewer security flaws than IE*, and its ease of customisation. It also has nifty built-in features such as popup blocking and tabbed browsing.

With regards to security flaws, "far fewer" is the key phrase - Firefox is not perfect. Last week, for example, it was reported that two potentially critical vulnerabilities had been discovered in Firefox 1.0.3 by internet security experts. Thankfully, it seems that said flaws have yet to be exploited by hackers. And the problems have now been fixed by Mozilla, in the form of an upgraded browser. If you're running Firefox 1.0.3 or older, or any version of IE, click here to download Firefox 1.0.4.

*I switched from IE to Firefox after experiencing frustratingly-persistent problems with the CoolWebSearch viruses, which (along with many other nasty PC infections) were designed specifically to exploit the numerous loopholes in IE security.

Mystery: The Sink Hairwash

2005-05-13T00:09:00.000+01:00

Today, I got me a haircut. The trouble with my hair is that very short bits tend to be very stiff and sharp; when trapped in the fabric of my clothing, they're very scratchy and make my skin all itchy and irritated. And I had a bank appointment scheduled for not long after the haircut. There wasn't time to have a proper bath - believe it or not, my apartment lacks a shower - but I didn't want to have to suffer through the appointment. So, to save time, I decided to try what many girls I know claim to do on a regular basis: wash my hair in the bathroom sink.

Now, washing one's hair in the sink sounds easy in principle. But I was to discover that that's not really the case, at least not when one's hair is cropped short. The front was no problem - that was straightforward. But I encountered problems trying to bath the hair on the back of my head.

Having been through this experience, I have no trouble visualising how girls with long hair manage to wash the bulk of their hair. But short of bending backwards limbo-style into the sink, how in the world do they wash at/near the scalp on the backs of their heads (without spilling water all over the place, which I foresee happening if they have long hair)? Or do those girls who use this method of hair washing simply NOT bother with that bit? (In which case, eeeewwwww, girls!!!)

Answers, anyone?

If I Could Be A Billionaire...

2005-05-12T16:25:00.000+01:00

The following post is a belated response to Patrick's request (my apologies, Patrick). Apparently, one has to choose and complete five of the sentences listed below, after which one chooses three bloggers to pass the list on to.

If [Reader] could be a scientist
If [Reader] could be a farmer
If [Reader] could be a musician
If [Reader] could be a doctor
If [Reader] could be a painter
If [Reader] could be a gardener
If [Reader] could be a missionary
If [Reader] could be a chef
If [Reader] could be an architect
If [Reader] could be a linguist
If [Reader] could be a psychologist
If [Reader] could be a librarian
If [Reader] could be an athlete
If [Reader] could be a lawyer
If [Reader] could be an innkeeper
If [Reader] could be a professor
If [Reader] could be a writer
If [Reader] could be a backup dancer
If [Reader] could be a llama-rider
If [Reader] could be a bonnie pirate
If [Reader] could be a midget stripper
If [Reader] could be a proctologist
If [Reader] could be a TV-Chat Show host
If [Reader] could be a pariah...
If [Reader] could be an actor
If [Reader] could be a judge
If [Reader] could be a Jedi
If [Reader] could be a mob boss
If [Reader] could be a backup singer
If [Reader] could be a CEO
If [Reader] could be a movie reviewer
If [Reader] could be a monkey's uncle
If [Reader] could be a bible archaeologist
If [Reader] could be a househusband

My choices:

If Yuen Li could be a monkey's uncle, then one of his siblings must have married an ape.
If Yuen Li could be a scientist, he'd probably be broke.
If Yuen Li could be a musician, he'd probably be bankrupt.
If Yuen Li could be a Jedi, he'd probably be a Jedi Guardian (or so claims a certain personality test*).
If Yuen Li could be a CEO, that'd be (one alternative) dream come true.

*which Yuen Li is convinced must be defective, because it didn't recognise Yuen Li as a Jedi Master whilst bestowing that status on just about every other Tom, Dick and Elaine.

Hmmm... I know I'm supposed to choose just the five, but I can't resist adding the following:

If Yuen Li could be a linguist, he'd hope to be one of the cunning variety. ;)
If Yuen Li could be a librarian AND paid a fortune for doing the job, he'd be in heaven.
If Yuen Li could be a lawyer, the word "buruk" would probably also appear in the same sentence in those describing Yuen Li's occupation(al skills).
If Yuen Li could be a bonnie pirate, Bonnie probably wouldn't be too pleased.
If Yuen Li could be a proctologist, he'd probably be sticking things where the sun don't shine.

Ok, the following three people are my nominees: MrsT, Frances, Reta.

And since I effectively did this activity twice, I reserve the right to nominate three further ~~victims~~ "beneficaries": Belacans, Vincent and Fish Fish.

The Godfather

2005-05-11T23:57:00.000+01:00

Back in March, I wrote about encountering a mysterious, highly-guarded motorcade centred around a very secure-looking police lorry, complete with armed police safeguarding passing of said convoy. That scene has been repeated many times since - and I've just discovered what it was all about.

It turns out that an incredible story lay behind those scenes, one that would not at all have been out of place in a movie script. Starring a family of mobsters who regarded themselves as Untouchable by the law, it is a tale of gangland crime in England's East Midlands, involving drug trafficking, money laundering, intimidation, violence and killings.

John "Big JD" Dawes of Sutton-in-Ashfield, Nottinghamshire, headed a ruthless criminal network with international links. It seems his gang even went so far as to attempt to infiltrate police forces, with the aim of cultivating informers who could provide advance warning of police actions. After years of carrying out criminal activity with impunity in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire and other parts of the UK, the gang were finally brought to book several months ago following a successful police sting operation.

A nine-week trial at Nottingham's Crown Court followed. Police were so concerned about the potential threat to witnesses and jurors from gang members still at-large that they had the court guarded throughout by heavily-armed officers. Jurors were referred to only by number, and never by name. Police were also concerned about possible escape attempts, and so ferried the defendants between jails and courthouse in heavily-guarded convoys.

Today, John and several of his partners-in-crime were convicted of laundering £8 million (this is believed to be just the tip of the iceberg). And amazingly (or disgustingly), it also emerged that despite his vast ill-gained wealth Big JD had been claiming government benefits!

Kids From Hell

2005-05-10T22:54:00.000+01:00

In my last post, I wrote about a cute little girl for whom I dispensed some antibiotic solution. As a counterpoint to that article, I describe here a recent incident involving some Kids From Hell.

My Dispenser is currently off sick with a back problem, so the pharmacy has recently been running typically with just two members of staff (including the pharmacist) on duty at any given time. However, this means that when deliveries or other external tasks have to be undertaken, there is only one person left to man the fort - ie me!

Anyway, on Monday, just after lunch, the pharmacy owner (acting as my assistant for the day) went out to collect some prescriptions from a surgery the other side of town, and to make a few deliveries. Naturally, lunchtime had been quiet till then - but the moment he left, a long queue started building up. I managed to clear the queue, and was about to take a breather when three unkempt-looking kids ("punks" might be a better description), all aged around 10, swaggered in.

The biggest of the trio, a thick-set thuggish-looking lad (let's call him "A") of mixed Black-Caucasian parentage, went up to the chiller and picked out a can of Coke. The shop floor has a central square "island" of shelves. A went round the island, putting it between him and myself. There, he started rolling the can across his face (presumably because it was a hot day and he wanted to cool down) and licking at it (unopened), all the while making strange grunting noises and glancing side-wise at me.

A second kid ("B"; tall, skinny, Black), strolled up to the counter and started asking me about cough syrups, supposedly for himself. I think his plan was to get me to look at the shelves behind me (I was standing in front of the cough medicines) so that he and the other kid ("C"; small, White, loud - put me in mind of the roguish pick-pocketing street kids from Oliver Twist) could lift sweets from the counter. Sensing their intention, I directed them to another display of more innocuous cough medicines on the wall to their left (my right), from where I could an eye on all three. B and C didn't seem discouraged, however - they took it in turns to ask me questions, each attempting to take some sweets whilst the other distracted me.

I wasn't going to let them get away with this, of course, and asked several times whether they were going to pay for the candy they took. Each time I challenged them, they put back what they'd taken, only to try again.

And then A decided to replace the can in the fridge and to try to help his chums out: he started peering very intently at (and fingering) some large boxes at the far end of the counter from where I was standing in a bid to distract me. But I'd picked a good spot - I could still keep a relatively good watch on all of 'em from where I stood.

A quickly got tired of what he was doing. He came and stared at me briefly, and then cryptically announced: "I'm very angry. But I'm not going to take it out on you. I can't be bothered." And then he left abruptly, followed by his compatriots. Naturally, I was relieved that there was no trouble in the end.

A Cute Kid...

2005-05-10T00:45:00.000+01:00

I usually tell people that my paternal instincts haven't yet kicked in yet. And that's true for most of the time. But once in a while, a kid will do or say something that makes me find myself thinking how cute they can be (more usually, I find them to be loud, annoying nuisances).

This afternoon was a case in point. I dispensed some amoxicillin suspension for a pretty little blonde-haired girl aged about nine or ten years. Whilst advising her dad about administering it, the child wandered up to us. "Is that banana," she inquired hopefully. I confirmed that that was indeed the flavour. She responded enthusiastically: "Ooh, I love that! It's luverly, luverly, luverly!"

It's not often you see a child so keen on taking a medicine - the way she acted, and with her angelic looks, you could've been forgiven for mistaking that for a scene from a TV commercial (you had to be there), haha.

Guardian of The Republic

2005-05-09T23:53:00.000+01:00

What Kind of Jedi are You?

I never really thought of myself as a Republican before - or alternatively, as a Monarchist for that matter - but it appears that I might indeed be one. Or at least, the Jedi defender of one, in a future (or past, depending on your point of view) life.

Are you a fellow Jedi too? And if so, what kind? Click here to take the test to find out. May the Force be with you!

One of the earliest memories I can recall of my childhood is of watching an episode of Star Wars with my Dad at what used to be State Cinema in PJ. Gosh, that would have been nearly three decades ago now(!)*. It just serves to underline (in my opinion) how well the original trio of Star Wars movies has withstood the test of time. And naturally, I'm very much looking forward to catching the latest episode at some point...

* So perhaps I would be better classified a Jedi Lapuk** than a Jedi Guardian***.
** But I wonder what that would make Yoda.
*** Dammit, I was hoping to be recognised as a Jedi Master.

Serpentime...

2005-05-05T22:51:00.000+01:00

Serpentime...

No, that's not a mis-spelling - it's just a poor pun on "serpentine" and "Serpent Times". (Sorry, I just can't help myself...)

Quite coincidentally (I'm presuming this is not the work of a poisonous, slithery conspiracy), snakes featured in a number of news stories on the radio today. Three stories, in fact:

Story 1: Boy Discovers Live Snake in Box of Cereal
A five-year old boy in Shropshire, England, sat down to breakfast. He happily opened a box of Golden Puffs cereals, eagerly anticipating finding a promotional toy within. Instead, to his horror, out popped the head of what turned out to be a two-foot long Corn Snake! Luckily, his mother happened to be just behind him at the time, and she had the presence of mind and guts to grab the box and seal it with Sellotape. How the snake (which is non-venomous) got in the box in the first place is being investigated.

Story 2: Snake Drops in On Bride-to-Be
An unsuspecting woman was trying on a wedding dress in a bridal shop in Leicestershire, when she was the victim of an unwelcome intruder. She initially mistook said intruder, a four-foot boa constrictor(!), for a fixture on the wall - until it stuck its tongue out. The snake is thought to have been living in the ceiling for as long as one month, and was eventually captured by the RSPCA.

Story 3: Snake Needs Rescue By Emergency Services
Somewhere in Derbyshire, a large pet boa constrictor was being given a bath by its owner when it became wedged fast between a faucet and a wall. The owner was forced to call the Emergency Services (ie the Fire Brigade) for help. The Rescuers unsuccessfully tried to help the snake wriggle free by applying a number of lubricants, such as vaseline and cooking oil. In the end, they were forced to resort to sawing off the faucet...

Too Choosy For My Own Good?

2005-05-04T22:36:00.000+01:00

About a month ago, I posted a couple of somewhat tongue-in-cheek articles ("Unloveable!" and "Maybe It's A Sign") suggesting possible reasons as to why gals I've found attractive in the past haven't apparently felt the same way about me. Today's article concerns the attributes I look for in a potential partner:

Most (if not all) of my friends think I'm waaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy too picky for my own good. Well, I disagree with their opinion. I've always contended that I'd be perfectly happy to take any girl as my partner. ANY girl - who's intelligent, pleasant-looking, nice, communicative, considerate, etc...

Just kidding. Really.

Not that I wouldn't like to see those traits in my life partner. It's just that whenever I get asked about the sort of girl I'd consider attractive, I answer the question (too) fully and give the questioner a whole list of desirable attributes. And people almost inevitably seem to take my answer literally - they always seem to think that my ideal girl MUST have ALL listed characteristics. Well, really, that's not the case at all. I've always recognised and accepted that there's no such thing as a Ms Perfect. There is no "ideal model" for which I aspire. The fact is that I do find attractive a wide range of different "types" of gals.

But of course, the above doesn't preclude my preferring certain personality types, nor my desiring and requiring that any potential partner meet certain minimum overall standards. And herein lies another (related) point of contention: many maintain that I simply set the bar too high. The supposed evidence supporting this hypothesis is the fact that I have managed to remain single despite having a fair number of attractive-looking female friends. I counter with the following: physical beauty is not the be-all and end-all; in any case, pretty gals tend to be spoken for; there HAVE been a number of girls I would have regarded as being desirable as potential partners; the vast majority of girls I find/found attractive are in Malaysia (or parts of the world other than the UK), would be unlikely to be keen on a long-distance relationship and trying to court someone on the other side of the planet would be very difficult indeed.

So, what traits WOULD I like to see in a partner? Well, first in my wish list is intelligence. This is important because I would like to be able to regard my partner as my equal, to be able to respect her intellectually (and also, studies suggest that it is maternal genes which determine the intelligence potential of offspring, hehe). And I can't stand bimbos. For similar reasons, she would also possess a healthy dose of common sense (I've long since discovered that intelligence and common sense do not necessarily come in a single package, and that common sense is in fact relatively uncommon) and be level-headed, confident, pragmatic, practical and highly capable. An "Alpha Female", if you like.

Possibly seemingly contradictorily, I'd also like her to be demure, polite, sweet, considerate, feminine, classy and sexy. She'd look nice (she doesn't necessarily have to be outstandingly beautiful), be sensual, enjoy cuddling and have a healthy appetite for sex (yes, I'm a ~~typical~~ red-blooded male) - but hopefully only with myself, of course. I don't expect her to be a virgin, but I do frown on promiscuity, (highly) prizing loyalty and fidelity.

I've always thought communication to be highly important to the success of a relationship. Unfortunately, I'm fluent in only the one language: English. And I occasionally have an unfortunate tendency to be blinkered; I might need and would definitely like her to discuss with me any unfulfilled desires and/or problems she might have with our relationship, so that I can do my best to put things right if necessary. As a consequence, I often find myself drawn to girls who are able and willing to express themselves articulately, girls who speak and/or write English well. Possibly (loosely) related to this is my partiality for musicality: an ability to play musical instruments, a pleasant singing voice, the ability to carry a tune (and particularly the ability to harmonise) are all turn-ons for me.

And there's lots more, but I've run out of time. Before you unleash a comment crucifying me for being a hopelessly-unrealistic overly-choosy old-fashioned chauvinistic porcine loser, do bear in mind that I've said that I don't expect my partner to have ALL the traits mentioned above (although that would be ideal).

Just most of them.

KIDDING! Hehe. ;)

Next article: Some Examples of Girls I Find/Found Attractive.

Meeting Gay Focker...

2005-05-03T21:38:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, real life throws up zany surprises; on occasion, it has an unexpected way of aping the silver screen. And once in a while, it does both.

Last night, BBC One screened Jay Roach's comedic movie Meet The Parents, prequel to the more recently released Meet The Fockers. For those unfamiliar with Meet The Parents, Ben Stiller stars as Gaylord "Greg" Focker ("His name's Gay Focker! Haha," mocked one character), an unfortunately-named male nurse. Greg is intending to propose to Pam (Teri Polo), his girlfriend. But first, he hopes to meet his fiancee's parents at Pam's sister's wedding and hopefully win their acceptance and blessings. His fiancee's overprotective father, Jack (Robert De Niro), a former CIA interrogator, is a no-nonsense hard man who doesn't suffer fools gladly. Unfortunately, at Pam's sister's wedding preparations, Greg is the unlucky victim of a series of hilarious mishaps and misunderstandings that cast him in an increasingly-poor light, and finds his chances of receiving Jack's permission to marry Pam ever-receding...

Now the amusing coincidence: shortly after I started work this evening (I was covering the evening shift), my assistant came to me and informed me that a man wanted to speak to me about a personal problem. So I went out into the shop floor, where I was immediately struck by his resemblance to Greg Focker.

And his problem? Well, it wouldn't have been out of place had it been scripted into Meet The Parents. Apparently, whilst "having sex" a couple of days ago, he caught the skin of his willy in his zipper (personally, I suspect he was probably interrupted whilst playing with himself, requiring him to hide his "activities" in a hurry and thus leading to the "accident"). As a result, he was in some pain. And he was wondering how long the laceration(s) would take to heal...

I wonder where the secret cameras were hidden, haha.

Shopping at Littlewoods: Hazard to Credit Health

2005-05-02T19:44:00.000+01:00

Dear Readers,

An occasional customer at Littlewood's high street shops, I decided just the once to make some online purchases from them in mid-2004. This turned out to be a mistake. A seriously bad one, at that. And here's why:

Sometime after I made the purchase (worth a relatively trivial sum, about GBP50), Littlewoods supposedly sent me an invoice. But I never received this. I DID, however, receive a payment reminder - upon receipt of which I immediately rang their Customer Services department and paid of in full said debt, explaining the circumstances of the unintentionally belated payment. The lady I spoke to assured me that all was fine.

In February 2005 or thereabouts, I applied out of curiosity for a Credit Report from one of the UK's three major Credit Reference Agencies, to check my credit rating. And I was shocked to discover that despite the extenuating circumstances and the assurances I had been given to the contrary, Litlewoods had recorded me as being one month in arrears! This one black mark caused my credit rating to fall from good to fair - despite that my credit file contained no other instances of payments in arrears to any other company! Ironically, I have in fact been very good at keeping up-to-date with my payments. And the majority of companies I have (had) dealings with don't even appear on my Credit File, because most only release information to credit agencies about customers who have been in default/arrears.

In the UK at least, credit ratings have a huge significance. If you have a poor(-ish) or inferior rating, your credit card applications may be turned down. Loan/mortgage requests may be approved, but you will likely be denied the best rates, and instead be charged considerably more. So a downgrading of your credit rating is not something one should casually ignore!

Black marks like the above stay in your file for six years, ie my credit rating is going to be impaired till mid-2010. Hence, upon discovering what was in my credit file, I immediately called, and then wrote, Littlewoods. Since I had never received the first invoice, I asked that as a sign of goodwill, they designate the payment reminder as the first invoice. This would have had the effect of repairing my undeservedly-damaged credit rating. Quite ungraciously, however, they were unsympathetically steadfast, refusing to take into account the mitigating circumstances and oblige my request.

Well, I'm getting my own back. Littlewoods is not doing particularly well at the moment - they need shoppers now more than ever, and I'm permanently withdrawing my custom from them henceforth. I would also be most grateful if readers who are in a position to do so would support my campaign against Littlewoods by:

joining me in boycotting Littlewoods
reproducing this article in your blog, if you have one

Also, if you have the time and inclination, do feel free to write them expressing your support for me (please quote my blog's URL, or better yet, this permalink address: http://bujanglapuk.blogspot.com/2005/05/shopping-at-littlewoods-hazard-to.html). Please address letters to:

Mrs C Whalley
Authorisations Manager

Littlewoods Finance Company Ltd
Customer Service Centre
Kershaw Avenue, Crosby
Liverpool L72 0LG
The United Kingdom

I cannot officially condone DDOS attacks. But their domain is www.littlewoods.com.

Thanks!

Yuen Li

Mind Your Language...

2005-04-29T18:35:00.000+01:00

Ran across this challenging little quiz at Kat's Blog. I wonder which word I misspelled?

Your English Skills:

Grammar: 100%

Punctuation: 100%

Vocabulary: 100%

Spelling: 80%

Does Your English Cut the Mustard?

Bachelor of the Year...

2005-04-28T22:45:00.000+01:00

It seems I've been voted Bachelor of the Year. And I only discovered this fact after reading an "old" comment left by Lilian of 5xMoM in the first article of MrsTweety's "new" blog. I can't believe I had no idea - someone must have entered me, coz I certainly didn't hadn't done it. I wonder which competition it was that I won? I don't know of any, aside from the Cleo 50 Most Eligible Bachelor's List that all the gal bloggers seemed to be talking about. Oh my God, did I win that? I can't believe it!

Naturally, I'm overwhelmed with emotion by that win - here, let me make my acceptance speech^:

*sobs* Oh my God. I'm sorry. This moment was so much bigger than me. *sobs* This moment is for Curly, Larry, Moe. It's for the men that stand beside me - Ben, Jerry, Homer, Bart and it's for every nameless, faceless bujang lapuk that now has a chance because this door tonight has been opened. *sobs* Thank you. *sobs* I'm so honoured. *sobs* I am so honoured and thank whatever panel for choosing me to be the vessel from which this blessing might flow. Thank you. *sobs* I want to thank my manager, Sam Malone. He's been with me for many long years, and you've...

*hushed urgent whispers exchanged with Stage Manager*

Oh whoops, I've just been informed that actually, it's only Bachelor Blogger of the Year that I've been awarded, and not Cleo's Bachelor of the Year. And that competition might not really exist in the first place... Darn... Sorry all. What a let-down... Where's the Prozac?

------------------------------------------------
^ With apologies to Halle Berry

The Little Girl and The Condoms

2005-04-27T21:54:00.000+01:00

Does anyone out there think that children are growing up too quickly nowadays? Coz I find that thought crossing my mind more and more frequently these days. And especially when I have encounters like the following:

Today, a young woman came into the pharmacy with a prescription. Accompanying her were her two children, one aged approximately ten years and the other still a toddler. The mother can't have been past her mid-twenties, so she probably had her first child in her mid-teens. My pharmacy is located at the edge of a "deprived" neighbourhood, so such young mums are not unusual. In fact, their numbers seem to be proliferating. And this is despite that sex education is formally taught in schools on the premise that they prevent this sort of thing(!), whereas my eyes suggest to me the opposite. In other words, I have serious doubts about the underpinning rationale for, and value and wisdom of, provision of sex education.

But all the above is merely incidental information. The fact that this lady was a young single mum doesn't raise eyebrows, at least not with me - for as I implied above, they are (almost) becoming the norm.

No, for me, the remarkable thing about this encounter was the older daughter's actions and words. Whilst my assistant was taking payment from the mother, the ten year old went to the condom display and started suggesting that her mother buy some! "Get some (Durex) Sensations," she said. "Or how about the ribbed ones?" "They also have the Pleasuremax". And so on. Mother didn't look the least bit embarrassed, and didn't react in any way.

How does a ten year old know about condoms? And how come she's urging her mum to buy them? Why was mum putting up with it? Has Mum been discussing her condom use with Little Daughter? Wouldn't that be a wee bit early?

Personally, I think this is very poor parenting. But then again, if Mum has no morals in the first place, can she be expected to teach her children to do "right"? I am neither a fan of Social Services nor generally an advocate of children being separated from their parent(s), but for such cases, I find myself willing to reconsider my reservations...

Blogger Problems: A Solution

2005-04-26T00:16:00.000+01:00

"Like That Also Cannot" - Addendum

A few days ago, I wrote in an article entitled "Like That Also Cannot"about my inability to access Primroses' and MrsTweety's blogs. (For those who can't be bothered to read the previous article, the problem is a specific inability to access certain Blogger-hosted blogs. This problem is not overcome by clearing your browser's cache and cookies.) Well, I'm glad to be able to announce that that problem appears to have spontaneously resolved itself - or maybe the Blogger team have been at work behind the scenes fixing the problem.

Shortly before the problem went anyway, I discovered a work-around. It's really simple, and I'll publish it here just in case the problem recurs, or in case anyone else encounters or is still the victim of such a problem. Let's say the url of the blog you can't enter is "madeupexample.blogspot.com". Simply modify the url to www.madeupexample.blogspot.com, ie add "www." to the url. And that's all there is to it.

How To Find Me...

2005-04-23T00:12:00.000+01:00

Out of sheer curiosity, I decided to have a look on Nedstat as to how people had been arriving at my Blog today. And guess what? To my utter disbelief (and amusement), I discovered that some horny person had actually been led to my site after entering "www.s3x.com" as his/her search term!* Makes me wonder if my writings have unintended double entendres, haha. ;)

*I've replaced "e" with "3" so as not to incur the wrath of TrueFresco, who provide my "list referrers" tool, and who object to "filth".

"Like that also cannot"

2005-04-21T15:55:00.001+01:00

Damn it, Blogger's acting up yet again. I'd been trying all morning to access Frances' and MrsTweety's blogs but Blogger kept returning me to its Dashboard. Chatted to Reta about it on MSN Messenger, but she seemed to have no problem accessing those blogs. But then Reta discovered on PPS that someone else had been experiencing similar problems accessing another blog. And then we discovered that she could not enter a blog that I could (Narrowband)! It's all very strange...

Yuen Li: Must be a problem with Blogger...
Reta: yeap
Yuen Li: Amazing... I tried to "trick" Blogger by using Google to access those sites I can't get into - and it STILL returns me to dashboard...
Reta: HAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHHA
Reta: like that also can
Yuen Li: More like "like that also cannot"
Reta: hehe yup yup

Streets of London

2005-04-21T10:30:00.000+01:00

Ok, I'm feeling nostalgic again. Another Roger Whittaker song, Streets of London, was playing on the local radio station this afternoon. It brought back fond memories from the distant past, of my dad. And happy memories from the not-so-distant past, of fun times with friends - in particular, a trip to London's Chinatown in the year I was undertaking my professional training, where we saw a guy busking karoke-style sing this song.

You'll probably have guessed from my last Whittaker post that I'm a fan of his. Well, I can't help it: I'm a sentimental romantic fool at heart, and his songs usually have beautiful melodies, lush harmonies and meaningful lyrics. Streets of London, for example, is at once sad yet somehow uplifting:

Have you seen the old man in the closed down market,
Kicking up the papers with his worn out shoes,
In his eyes you see no pride, hand held loosely by his side
Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news.

So how can you tell me you're lonely,
And say for you that the sun doesn’t shine,
Oh, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London,
I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

Have you seen the old girl who walks the streets of London,
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags ?
She's no time for talking, she just keeps on walking,
Carrying her home in two carrier bags.

So how can you tell me you're lonely,
And say for you that the sun doesn’t shine,
Oh, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London,
I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

In the all night cafe at a quarter past eleven,
Same old man sitting there on his own,
Looking at the world over the rim of his teacup,
Each tea lasts an hour, and he wanders home alone.

So how can you tell me you're lonely,
And say for you that the sun doesn’t shine,
Oh, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London,
I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

Have you seen the old man outside the seaman's mission,
Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears?
In our winter city the rain cries a little pity,
For one more forgotten hero and a world that doesn't care.

So how can you tell me you're lonely,
And say for you that the sun doesn’t shine,
Oh, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London,
I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

The Worry Wart

2005-04-20T22:56:00.000+01:00

I meet all sorts in my line of work. Rude idiots, flippant fools, nasty characters, etc. You name 'em, I've probably encountered 'em. Of all of these people, some of the most annoying can be the worry warts. Ok, sometimes, they have good reason to worry. But much of the time, they get worked up over nothing.

Today was a case in point. We have a regular who's an elderly gentleman. Let's call him WW. Yesterday, he asked us to order him some incontinence pads. We did, and they arrived today. But before the pads arrived, he'd already rung us several times during the morning - when we're at our busiest. To top it off, it's not easy to put down the phone on him in a polite manner: he tends to go on and on, requiring lots of reassurance! And it wasn't even as if he was desperately needing the pads - he still had quite a bit left from the last time.

Normally, the pharmacy owner delivers the pads to WW as a favour, and collects a cheque from him. But the pharmacy owner's been away on holiday the last couple of weeks, so we explained that WW'd either have to collect the pads himself or send his son, a taxi driver, in his stead. And that he or his son would have to bring the cheque at the same time. WW decided that to send his son but asked to provide us a cheque at an unspecified later date. We explained that this was not possible. At this point, he got testy - "Can't you let me have them first?", "I won't be running away without paying". My Dispenser, who was speaking to him on that particular occasion, explained that we couldn't allow goods to leave the pharmacy without prior payment. His response was that "But you've always delivered have them to me before I've paid". Which is true, but only because the owner would always collect a cheque from him at the time of delivery (and who knows when later, as he was requesting)!

To cut a long story short, he eventually agreed to send a cheque with his son. And then rang to say that his son was on the way. And then proceeded to ring several more times to see if his son had arrived.

After all that, guess what happened? He eventually rang one final time, sounding sheepish, to say that his son would be coming tomorrow, not today. We were all rolling our eyes in the dispensary. Hahaha!

Bujang Lapuk On Top Of Old Maid

2005-04-19T23:09:00.000+01:00

Although now aged 30, I still find myself fascinated by toys, gadgets and the like. And one of the latest toys I've procured for my blog is a listing on Blog Charts. This site provides a range of visitor statistics and rankings for your blog based on said stats.

Because of work commitments, I've not checked the Blog Charts listing since I obtained it a few days ago. And at the time, my site was bottom - ranked 60 out of 60 (having said which, technically, all sites start at the bottom. I think.). Checking today, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it's shot up the rankings to 22nd place(!) at time of writing. And the blog ranked immediately after mine belongs to a gal who describes herself as an old maid! Bujang Lapuk on top of an old maid. Hahaha, is that a funny coincidence or what?^

Anyway, I would like to thank everyone who's visited for doing so - and in particular, those who have left pleasant and/or supportive comments. And I hope you all felt sufficiently entertained to want to come back regularly: Thank you, come again! *imagine this voiced ala Apoo of the Simpsons*

^ Note: This blog's author has a weird sense of humour, so if you don't find that coincidence funny, don't freak out - it's (probably) not that your own sense of humour is faulty in any way^^...
^^ Although we can't rule out that possibility.

To Snack, Or Not To Snack...

2005-04-19T00:55:00.000+01:00

...That is the Question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pangs and rumbles of a grumbling stomach,
Or to poke fork against some ketchuped nuggets,
And by eating, fill self?

To snack: to gorge
Best not; but by a gorging to say we end
The bellyache and the ongoing gastro flops
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consumption
Greedily to be wished.

To snack, to gorge;
To gorge: perchance to sate: ay, that's the spot;
For in that gorge of food what food's gone down
When we have shuffled from dining room,
Must give us pause: there's the siesta
That aids digestion of irregular meals...

(with apologies to Bill Shakespear)

PS By the time I finished composing the above, it was so late already that I decided to go with a banana (poor choice, carbohydrate-rich) instead of microwaving some chicken nuggets (mainly protein, therefore less calorific and thus theoretically the better choice for avoiding fat-generation during sleep).

Warning: MSN Messenger Virus - Addendum

2005-04-18T08:08:00.000+01:00

Last night, I wrote a post warning about W32/Kelvir.worm family infections, which are spread through MSN Messenger. This morning, I discovered yet another friend's PC had been infected, albeit by a different variant of the worm. The message sent to me was different, containing the following:

I look so cool in this pic http://www.q8helx.xxx/NewImage-9.exe

Again, I have modified the URL so you can't accidentally go to the site and download the worm.

Virus Warning: MSN Messenger Worm

2005-04-17T23:47:00.000+01:00

A few days ago, when I got back from work, I discovered that A, a friend, had left me an MSN Messenger message. All there was in said message was a URL hyperlink:

://hydr0.xxx/pictures.php?email=xxxxxx@hotmail.com

The e-mail address in the link (which has been modified so you can't accidentally visit the site) belonged to a second friend, B. I therefore assumed that the link led to some sort of photo album containing pictures of B. Clicking the link, however, produced nothing but an error message.

Suspicious, I immediately ran antispyware and antivirus checks. It turned out that my friend's PC had become infected with a worm identified by McAfee Antivirus as being W32/kelvir.worm.gen , ie a worm belonging to the W32/Kelvir.worm family (you could think of a worm as being a particularly insidious virus.)

W32/Kelvir worms spread via Messenger. Often, the only way you'd find out you'd picked up an infection by one of these worms is if someone tells you that you've sent them some weird hyperlink, whereas you know perfectly well that you did no such thing. Anyway, said link points to a site hosting the worm, which is downloaded onto your PC. In my case, I also received additional unwelcome guests: a number of viruses, including a member of the notorious CoolWebSearch (CWS) family - thankfully, a rather tamer variant than the one I'd previously been a victim of.

As long as your antivirus software is up-to-date, you should have no problems getting rid of W32/Kelvir worms. But pray you don't get one of the nastier CWS derivatives. If you happen to be so unfortunate, then refer to my previous article on how to remove stubborn CWS infections using CWShredder.

Maybe It's A Sign (You Should Convert)...

2005-04-14T22:41:00.000+01:00

Unlovable! - Addendum

In the recent article I wrote on possible reasons why girls I find attractive seem not to feel likewise about myself, I left out a major factor. It's a frequently-recurring theme, so I'm amazed that I managed to completely forgot about it until reminded indirectly by someone's comment. And that factor, aka Reason 9, is Religion.

Officially Buddhist, I am in practice an Agnostic, or Free-Thinker. But for some reason, the majority of the girls I find attractive turn out to be Christian/Catholic. For clarity's sake, I hasten to add that I don't set out intentionally seeking out girls of that faith. They just happen to be, I seem to have a nose for 'em.

In my experience, there are two are generally two sorts of Christian gals: those who are set on having only partners of the same faith (or partners who will agree to eventually take up Christianity), and those who will accept partners of other faiths. No prizes for guessing which sort the girls I like usually turn out to be...

Anyway, some of these girls have suggested that my proclivity for Christian girls might perhaps be a sign from the Big Guy Up There that I should embrace Christianity. Now, unlike Atheists, as an Agnostic, I do not totally reject the possibility of the existence of God(s) and am open to possibly taking up religion in the future. And if I had to choose a religion immediately on pain of a horrible death, I'd choose Christianity (Protestant-ism, as I have a number of issues with Vatican doctrine) over all others. Amongst other things, I see Christianity as providing a good moral framework on which to raise a family, I identify with many of its values and ways, and (trivially) I like Christian hymns and songs.

But I can't bring myself to take up Christianity just to "get" girls. If I adopt a particular religion, I want to be able to do so in good conscience. And for this to be possible, as a Sceptic (possibly the result of adverse life experiences - a long story for another time), I need to see convincing evidence that a particular religion is the "right" one before committing myself to it. This is an important principle to me: I must truly believe. But this doesn't stop me occasionally thinking how stupid I am, to hold such silly principles...

Yuen Li On...

2005-04-14T22:11:00.000+01:00

(An assortment of comments I've left - and replies from others - at various blogs on a variety of topical issues.)

...Being (Im)Perfect:
(at Viewtru's blog, Stepping Aside for Reality)
Perhaps those perceived imperfections you may have are really just that - perceptions, based on societal norms? And that in the grand scheme of things, you REALLY are perfect, except that the rest of the human race is blinded to the fact by their acceptance of imperfections as being norms? - Yuen Li

Yuen Li: You mean that I'm perfect and the rest of the human race is wrong? Oh, gee, I never thought of it that way. Now that you mentioned it, it made perfect sense. :) - Viewtru

I like the way Yuen Li puts it... ok, that settles it. I'm perfect and the only reason anyone will think otherwise is because of their own imperfections and misconceptions about perfection. - Yee Pei

YP: Okay, so Yuen Li has redefined perfection. It's becoming perfectly clear that perfection is based on definition. Of course, only perfect people like us can see that! - Viewtru

...Fad Diets:
(At Yujen's blog, CherryChocolateCandy)
Yoghurt = if not low fat, may be high in calories.
Banana = high in calories. Often eaten by diabetic patients when they start to go hypoglycaemic (low blood sugar).
Milk = full fat is very energy-rich, semi-skimmed less so.

Simply eating less does not guarantee you will lose weight. If you ingest more calories than you expend, you the excess will be turned into fat. This applies no matter how much or how little you eat.

The body has "quick" energy stores in the form of glycogen stored in the liver. A certain amount of water is associated with this glycogen. Changes in glycogen status can make your weight fluctuate by as much as 2-4 kg. "Miracle" diets often produce quick initial results by depleting the glycogen stores, resulting in a plateauing of weight loss a week or two after starting. But depleting this rapid energy source is not a good idea - you need it for activities requiring bursts of energy. It is better (healthier) - but much harder - to work off your fat stores instead.

...Promiscuity and Safe Sex:
(At Shweet Young Thing's blog, Uninhibited Online)
Speaking strictly from a professional viewpoint, as a pharmacist, I applaud your use of condoms and your regularly having medical check-ups. I hope said check-ups include STD screens. Condoms are not perfect - if you use enough, you will inevitably come across the odd defective one; alternatively, they sometimes tear. For that reason, I hope your sexual partners are all "regulars", and people whom you can trust to be STD-free (or low-risk). Remember, there is STILL no cure for biological horrors such as HIV.

Charity Walkhunt at Sunway Pyramid - 15 May '05

2005-04-13T23:12:00.000+01:00

A fellow blogger, Belacan of Belacan Times, has requested help in publicising a charity event in Malaysia:

AIESEC Alumni Malaysia are organising a charity walkhunt at Sunway Pyramid on May 15 2005. Proceeds will be donated to the Sri Shenbagavali Asram, an orphanage in Sungai Besi, which cares for approximately 48 children aged between 3-18 years.

The hunt is a TEAM event (2-3 members per team), with participation open to all. AIESEC Alumni have set a target of signing up 150 teams. A special Early Bird participation fee is available to those registering and paying before the 23rd of April 2005; thereafter, the registration fee shall be RM100. Entry forms, rules and further information are available from the AIESEC Alumni Malaysia website.

The Charity Team has allocated the following generous prizes:

1st Place = RM1,000.00
2nd Place = RM500.00
3rd Place = RM250.00
4th - 13th Places = Consolation prizes

Further incentive to take part, for those who relish the possibility of running into him, is the fact that Belacan himself will be at the event.

Unlovable! (Or "Why I'm STILL Single")

2005-04-11T22:46:00.000+01:00

Idealistic by nature (some might say "foolish"), I am the sort of person who takes the concept of relationships seriously. The sort who isn't into casual dating, who resists partaking in meaningless love affairs, I have always disdained the idea of frivolously entering into relationships. Commitment is a concept that neither frightens nor troubles me; rather, I have always wanted, ideally, to have just the one life-long relationship with that special someone. Or failing that, to have just a few long-term but highly-meaningful relationships.

So it's really strange - and ironic, in my opinion - that now, at 30, I find myself still single, still never having had even one "official" relationship. And why is that the case, you'll no doubt be wondering (you wouldn't be the first or the last; rather, just one of many). Well, it seems to me that you can just about guarantee that any girl I find attractive will always either be a) spoken for, b) uninterested in myself, or c) both.

The following are my guesses at possible reasons for female disinterest in myself. Firstly, I am lacking in height (I'm relatively short - my epiphyseal plates fused early; I blame that on an early entry into puberty). Unfortunately, gals seem to value that trait highly, seemingly (to me) even more so than looks and physique!

Speaking of which, looks and physique are attributes in which I am also lacking, and thus constitute reasons two and three. Relatively plain looking, I am not photogenic and my face is crooked; physically, I am not muscular - and on top of that, can no longer claim to be slim, as I'm starting to develop a tummy (oh no!). It can't help that I'm not particularly athletic either.

Fourth, I'm not a particularly out-going person - somewhat introverted, it takes an effort of will for me to go out and socialise. I can seem cold and aloof if you don't know me. I don't much enjoy partying, clubbing or drinking (reasons five, six and seven) - I detest cigarette smoke, and am not keen on having my ear-drums beaten into submission with music pumped out at mega-decibel levels. And whilst I don't object to others' drinking to get high, I do find drunkenness (as opposed to highs) unappealing and unattractive. Unfortunately, girls nowadays often seem to place a premium on having "fun" revelling in such activities. Personally, I'd much rather be relaxing at home reading a good book; just as good would be having a meal or spending quality time with friends (or better yet, a special gal), preferably in a nice, classy environment (alternatively, a mamak's will do just fine) conducive to chatting. Whilst I wouldn't describe myself as conservative (my values are a mixture of liberal and conservative, traditional and modern), I can nonetheless imagine coming across as being a staid and boring old fart (reason eight), lol.

Oh dear, I could go on for quite a bit more, but I don't want to take the risk of depressing myself - I can't go on blogging if I've committed suicide, can I? - or boring the reader (overly much). So I'll just stop here for now. Anyway, I think all the reasons above plus those as yet uncited can be summed up thus: I'm just plain unlovable!

Next article: am I Too Choosy For My Own Good?

Note to Audience: Having reviewed some comments, I feel the need to make a clarification. Whilst I do really think the above, this article has been written partially in a self-mocking tongue-in-cheek spirit. Don't worry - I'm not feeling depressed (yet)! Apologies if you feel misled, but thanks for your concern. :)