Reality Bites....

I gave my old Uni a tour during the weekend. I cannot explain the emotions that gushes through me but, reminiscening my student life gave me a stir from deep down. I realised that, I missed being in such an overwhelmingly fun ambience. It was no fun when your face use to break out with endless zits because you're all stressed out about not just passing, but scoring the examinations. It was a euphoric experience as a whole.



Hmm..no wonder I hardly have any boys asking me out on a date back then. To be honest with you, I would have been oblivious to a boy's advances towards me, because I was so preoccupied with studies and my sports activities. Life was so simple back then. Your only worry was to score in your exams, and try not to twist any part of your body while doing all the stunts in sports, so that you'd be fit to attend lectures and examinations. Carefree would almost always be true to describe my life back in the student days.



Everyone should have the chance to further their studies if you ask me. We must see knowlege as something to embrace simply because it is knowlege and to me, any knowlege is sacred. It should not be regarded as only a portal towards material gains. That is why the concept of Open University appeals to me. Even in the West, an old granny can come back to college and complete her degree, should she chose to do so.



And by everyone, I mean EVERYONE who wants to, regardless of any discrimating criterion, even by age, at any point of their lives. Our present system unfortunately, is less sympathetic towards failure. Every human being have their own journey in life, that is called drama. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born without problems at the tender age. Sadly, the system has less empathy than it should and it is not very forgiving to those who have missed the boat, so to speak.



A society who are uneducated, poor and left out, have basically, have nothing to loose. This makes them dangerous and in most cases, they will come back to haunt the rest of the society. The learned bears upon them the responsibility to not allow any individuals to become this threat. Take NEP for example. The idea is brilliant , yet, what lies at fault is the implementation. The government took care of majority the poor malays. What went wrong was the allowance of manupulation and abuse of NEP that lead the rich, using Bumiputra status gain favours meant for poor people and become richer. But we must not forget the poor Indians in the estates that suffered negligence. There are poor chineses too. It is simply not right. There is no religion that will allow any form of discrimation, especially not by race. We must all get back to the roots of all religion to realise, that they are there for one purpose, and that is to unite human beings as one. It sounds idealistic and unpractical, because we have let the system make it that way.



You can say to me, "oh..it's easy for you to say, you've benefited from the biasiswa, and have an improved life". True. I benefited from just being a Malay in this country, and I consider myself lucky, and I thank the political pioneers who came up with this brilliant idea of decreasing if not abolishing the gap between the rich and the poor. But gaining knowlege and being educated, comes with a price and it is called responsibility. I am now responsible to the society and by society, it is regardless of race, religion, gender etc. It leaves me no choice however, but to point out that NEP is a brilliant idea. But what we really need is the sincerity of it's implementation. The word poor should be defined as it is, and not be smeared by other criterion. Let "poor" define it's criterion as is.



What happened at the Hindu demonstration in KL yesterday was long overdued. It would not have occured had NEP was successfully executed. If you were to ask me, I think that the Indians should send a thank you card to the British Government, for saving them and their generations from the poverty they most likely will be in, had the British did not transported them into Malaya. If there's any government that needed suing, it's the Malaysian government for the failure and abuse of implementation of NEP.



Racism exist because not only we allow it to exist, but we quietly encourage it on pretext of sustaining our culture. We build Tamil, Sekolah Kebangsaan, Sekolah China , Sekolah dan lain lain or whatever not, in the name of preserving our culture. What it means, I cannot decipher. We can preserve our culture and our mother tongue simply by being born into it and learning at home. What we need, is an intergrated school with English language as a medium. We can no longer be arrogant about Bahasa Malaysia as medium to our schools because clearly, it had it's chance and it failed miserably. Besides, half of BM is derived from Persian and English language anyway. Let's not make hypocracy our culture too. It's bad enough trying to combat bribery, another resilient culture to shake off, but that is another story. I sometimes cannot hide a smirky smile when I see people wearing badges with theme like, "saya anti rasuah". That is because, being a Malaysian, I have mastered the art of reading between the lines and I could have sworn I could still catch the glimpse of the letter "N" preceding the word "anti rasuah"...


All we need today, is less racism, if not obsolete, and more humanity and the sincerity to sustain it. I know it is idealistic, but almost everything, begins with an idea ( except for those who chose to be ignorant and find that their urine pregnancy test was positive after missing 6 months of period. Obviously, she had no idea....)

Hey!! Parents!!! Leave us kids aloooooneeee.......

I never thought that I'd live to see the day, that a child, in malaysia, would commit suicide because she did not obtained the anticipated 5As in her UPSR. The very thought of it gives me the goosebumps. Subashini, a 12year old girl from Nibong Tebal appeared in The Star todays issue (Monday 19th Nov 2007), for the wrong reasons.

In case you are wondering, how come a supposedly busy doctor like me have time to read the papers on a Monday morning, when the clinics are normally busy attending to people who are:

1. Genuinely sick( a rare thing) and not fit for work(i call them "pesakit"/ "the diseased")

2. Pretending to be sick and extort doctors for MC, as though it is their birth right (I call them "penyakit"/ "the disease" because they make ME sick)

3. Not really sick but don't really want to go to work. Just try their luck for MCs anyway. (smarty pants)

4. Sick yet even given anMC insist on going to work (workaholics and irresponsible to others' health, because they are the disease carriers)

4. or have planned weeks ahead, to get sick on Mondays, Fridays, Federal Territory day, Thaipusam and Hari Gawai.

5. or come end of the year, have used up their annual leave and have no choice but to extort doctors for MCs, to cover up for their holiday plans. (notice the word "extortion" that comes up twice? We doctors get a lot of that....call it our occupational hazard. )

So how come I am free on a Monday morning? (bear with me for a moment of side track)
Well, our clinics cover mostly offices. If you can crawl out of bed, get dressed (and most women can still bother about appearances), get in the car, have the energy to drive on the Malaysian road, and come see us, I guess you are fit to go to work, which only requires sitting down on your asses and try not to fall asleep from the tiredness of the weekend's excitements. So, we do not really get that many patients on mondays because they tend to go to clinics nearby their houses and not risk getting medical attention from sadist doctor like me.

Back to the context of a girl who commited suicide just because she did not score 5As ( she got 4Bs and 1C , which, if you ask me, I'd pat her back for getting the good results), it is a wake up call for us Malaysians. It's been going on for years now. The parents would be the ones boasting about how their children had obtained straight A-s for any major exams in Malaysia, albeit sometimes they themselves never did get pass primary school during their time. It's the parents competing against each other, more because they probably felt that they had not done that well in life, for whatever reason and that their children end up paying for the continuation of that dream and of what they could not achieve when they were children themselves.

I am sure every parents should be proud of their children's achievements, but let's not try to go overboard. For god's sakes, it's just UPSR and 12year olds sit for them. They are merely children!!! Let them have their childhood , at the time they are still children. (remember what happened to Michael Jackson??)

I see parents sending their children for tuition at a very young age,for very long hours, so much so, the weekends are jam packed with studying instead of just busy being children, and spending quality time with families. It's a form of child abuse if you ask me, depriving children of their childhood!! Don't let me start on how heavy their school bags are. One day 4 generations from now, Malaysians would probably not have a national basket ball team, because everyone becomes a midget or perhaps self induce scoliosis, no thank you to that heavy school bags.

I can understand if you need to push those sitting for SRP and SPM, or whatever it is they call it hitherto. Life has been competitive lately, and children need constant encouragement, some pushing.(okay, some, more of shoving..) But UPSR................come on Malaysian!! We can do better than that!!

According to scientific research, children's creativity is 5fold more than that of the adults. (Some of my patients would comfirm this lack of imagination amongst adults when they come to me for problems concerning their "bed time stories". Sigh. Another one of my occupational hazard.) It is us adults who dampens and supress this gift. I'm no longer talking about bed time stories, just to keep you on track. One of the toy for kids to play are boxes. Yes, you heard me right. Boxes. To children, boxes can become spaceships, Barbie doll house, a transmorgafier (a machine that demolecularizes and remolecularizes in order to transport a person from point A to point B). What? Never heard of transmorgafiers? Well, that is because you are an adult and you've forgotten where human imagination can take you. Get my point?

A waste of time you say? Well, the geniuses and scientists of the past created their invention by first, imagining them. Have you ever wondered how come Malaysians do not come up with any geniuses or mavericks? You are correct. It's because malaysian kids have not time to sit and imagine because they are busy rushing for Kumon and tuition classes? There, I rest my case. Another reason, if I may point out, is probably because children below the age of 13 are prohibited to enter the adult section in our national libraries, or most libraries, I dare say. We tell them that they cannot comprehend adult literature.We insist that they should stick to kiddy books. We set the bar lower than what they themselves believe they can achieve. Who killed the potential geniuses again? Can't hear you..say it louder...yes, we did.

I remember a fellow student of our Medical faculty. She was caught just in the nick of time, when she sat at the edge of our hostel rooftop, crying, " I can fly........". She was Trengganu top student SPM during our year. Turned out, she never did want to enroll into Medical School but it was the parents who had forced her into it. Top student folks. She dropped out of medical school after obviously making her sentiments heard, and today, she is a very happy mother of two and a successful bussiness woman.

What should we parents do then? Our job is not to tell them what they should do, instead, nurture and guide them towards discovering their fullest potential as a human being. Oh sure the title "Dr" sounds impressive added ahead of one's name, but there are some people who carry these titles with a heart that repents. Ever heard of doctor's killing someone, or selling legal drug combos, then being murdered by the addicts? I guess these are examples of individuals who are unhappy with what they are.

My daughter doesn't really know what she wants to become, yet. But she told me that she may not be sure of her ambition, but she is pretty sure it is not to become a doctor!!! I respect that. I know I will support her decision once she comes up with it. In the meantime, I've got to work hard to equipt her with the wisdom of determining what she wants to make out of herself then support the whole process of getting there (and quietly pray that she would not want to become a criminal of sort, although a genius hacker may come in handy in view of wiping my credit card bills).

Amongst adults,we keep saying "keep your inner child alive". So let us not kill that "child" in our children. Let's not rob our children out of their childhood. Perhaps, they will grow gracefully into a wise adult. Wisdom is something we could use more in our lives. Stop putting unnecessary pressure on our kids. Be nice to them. After all, they are the ones who will probably determine which old folks home they would want to send us to, sometime in the near future.

Adoi mak sakit nya........

I got my heart broken a couple of weeks ago. Oh boo hiphen hoo say you. I know. It's such a cliche. It doesn't matter how I got it broken,.. again, if I may add ( hey, I'm a bloody aries and we rams are fond of getting our horns tangled up in nonsense, but oh, we get out of trouble faster then we get into them!!) . Like I said. It doesn't matter how I got it broken, it's ....broken. Funny though, how, despite breaking it too frequent for comfort, ( like having samy's impending toll ), I could never really get use to it. I ram my car, into lots of things lots of times, but I got use to it, so much so I could probably write a book titled, "Car accidents for dummies (in malaysia)". Well, obviously it was not me who wrote "Dating for Dummies", look where I ended up!!

Am I causing discomfort to you, just being emotional like this? Well, too bad. Live with it. My other writings have most of the time been up beat. This is better than going to the shrink. I tried talking to my Petunia plants. They all died last week. I miss dating before I reach the age where I grew common sense. Don't you? It's so, safe, and easy going without any expectations. Now, just as I've finally gotten my head together, my body seem to be falling apart and truthfully, trying to find a life partner at this age is terrifying experience and I blame it on my brains. I think too much. It's true what Oscar Wilde said, "Thinking kills romance". I think it is easier when you are naive. And dumb. And bisexual, if I may add.(jeez, one can never run out of dates with such orientations)... No wonder men find blondes fun. Hmmmh....

What? Get to the point? There is no point. Blabbering is good for broken hearts. I know I will be okay again. But in the meantime, bear with me..

Just a note for those of you who hit bottom rock. I got this from my favourite read this year, "How to kill your husband (and other useful household hints)" by Katty Lette, and I quote,
" When you hit bottom rock, there is no any other way to go except up".....

Oh what the heck!! I'll throw in my grandmother's fav quote, just for old times sakes, "Eleh...mati pun sorang jugok"...grandmother's...they make complete sense even when they don't. In other words, "Alone again, naturally..."

"Reign Over Me"

For those of you who need to reminisce on how true friendship feels like, please, I urge you to go watch “Reign over me”. “ What is it about?”, you ask me. Well, before watching, allow me to offer you a gentle reminder. Keep a tissue box beside you, just in case. If you do not touch the tissue, then perhaps you need to see a shrink.

It is about two college roomies who bumped into each other after nearly 15years post graduation. Charlie Fineman, played by Adam Sandler (no, I did not narrate the synopsis from the back of the DVD I just purchased. What? DVD not in the market yet? OOPs ...you got me there....syyyyyyyyy...), had lost a whole family to plane crash. His wife and four daughters died in a plane crash while he watched the news over the TV screen at the airport where he was suppose to have fetched them. Can you imagine loosing a whole entire family in a blink of an eye? No, I don’t really think you can. Only those who have actually experience such a lost can. I lost my husband to a car accident and I still am struggling to get my life and my mind back together. Imagine loosing a whole family.

It’s not a wonder that Charlie shut down completely and eluded himself from any conversation involving his family. Alan Johnson (played by Don Cheadle), who was a well to do dentist with the perfect family, stuck by Charlie even though he was insufferably temperamental, to the point of sudden outbursts of physical manisfestations of anger. Trying to get Charlie to a shrink was a process. And when the breakthrough came, when he actually started talking about his family, not to the shrink, but to his friend, Alan, he became suicidal and tried to kill himself.

I’ll stop here because I do not want to be a killer joy and blabber the whole story. What touched me most was how Alan, even when Charlie made it quite impossible for him to stay as friends, stuck to him nevertheless, without being judgmental nor prejudice. Perhaps that level of friendship is totally out of this world, ergo, it only exists in the big screen.

So you think Alan helped Charlie back on his feet again? In a way, yes he did. But you’d be surprised on how much Charlie, on the other hand, had unintentionally, through his process of going through the pain he experienced, changed Alan’s life.

“A friend in need is a pest indeed?” . Yes, they can be pests at times. But sometimes, pests may be good for you. You may learn a thing or two, about life and yourself, just handling pests. Besides being a pest myself, I have a few pests I keep as friends. And I love them with all my heart. It’s a kind of an unconditional love. It may not be perfect, but hey, what is?

As Oscar Wilde brilliantly put it,

“Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer."

Be a Donor, not a Dunno

Reading about Hui Yi’s heart transplant story reminded me of why I chose to become a doctor. What attracts me to the matter is the fact that, in the attempt to save Hui Yi’s life, we had managed to cross the barrier of skin color,religion and culture. The first donor came from a Malay boy. It was unfortunate that she experienced organ rejection but I guess she is destined to live a longer life as she managed to get another donor, a Chinese boy who passed away in an accident. A miracle, actually.

There are people out there who are more willing to fight over where a person should be buried after they die, when religion conversion is involved. They would go all the way fighting for their deceased loved one, to be buried or cremated. Wouldn’t it be phenomenal if people would fight for their love ones to donate the much needed organs? When we pass on, what we’d leave behind would be the memories of what we were. The body is just a vessel for our souls, a carrier to sustain our gist for the preset drama we need to live called life.

I could have been on that team. Should I have stayed on in the government hospital, I would have been amongst one of the medical officers who’d make the transplant team. They were taking form just when I was about to bid farewell to my overwork-underpaid but satisfying job, to a greener grass. For the record, I did move on to a greener pasteur, but sometimes, eating stale grass is more satisfying, in an odd manner. I believe it is called “masuchism”?

The clinical director of the Heart and Lungs Transplant Unit of IJN, Dr Mohamed Ezani b. Taib, (they misspelled his name in the newspapers by the way), is this workaholic cardiothoracic surgeon. I loved referring my patients to him those days because I know I’d leave my patients in good hands when I send them over to Mr Ezani ( as in the surgeon “Mr”). That and the fact that he is super cute and funny too, but oh so married. (Damn!! It is true what they say about the good fellas are all taken!!)

Regrets? A little. No, I’m no longer talking about Mr Ezani. Please stay focus people. But in life, one needs to make a sacrifices especially when off springs are involved. The joy of seeing your child benefit from what ever sacrifice you make in life is tremendously gratifying, so much so you tend to forget what was the important thing to you, that you had given up in the first place. I made my choice. I see myself as a greatest mother, then, a great doctor. I never looked back really, but on days when my hormones get the better of me, perhaps just a few seconds, I’d surrender to self pity.

Organ donating is the perfect proof that beneath all this hype about racism, at the elemental level, we are all the same. It doesn’t really matter if you are a Malay carrying within your chest, a Chinese heart you obtained from organ transplant. We should all dismiss trivial matters and see the big picture. Organ donation saves lives. Racism is a waste of time. Let’s complain less about things that do not go our way, but do the things we can do to make a difference in this world. Start small by donating our organs to the people who may need them. ( and no, I do not work in the IJN advertisement unit...) .

"It is not so much about what the world has to offer, but what we bring into it."

The Waiting Game

I was sitting on one of the chairs in KL central, waiting for my daughter, letting my eyeballs roll about their sockets, just browsing through Life. Incidentally, I see more people sitting and waiting, rather than doing things. Waiting. Ever imagine how much time, if we were to accumulate, say in a week, that time was wasted just...waiting.

Let's all do the math. Wake up in the morning, wait for my daughter to get out of the shower. I kept telling her that she has the darker skin Punjabi blood running in her and all that color is not going to come off by sitting under the shower longer time than the average. Then wait in the traffic jam. Wait for the elevator to get to the clinic. Wait for patiets to come in, as it is a national habit for us Malaysians to turn up last minute near closing time and at almost everything else. Then wait for my daughter to finish classes. Wait again in the traffic jam home bound.

My daughter would probably add that she spent time waiting for yesterday's lasagne to cook, as it took me 3hours to prepare it and a grand total of 3 minutes for both of us to devour the oh so delicious dish ( No wonder Garfield would say,"I live for lasagne") . And I do all this waiting , while waiting for the bureaucratic agencies and the government to change their attitudes towards governance. The latter is like waiting for the first moon of Ramadhan or Syawal, waiting in anticipation for something that is there but unable to materialize to the naked eyes. Still, being human is about bearing hope.

As I was sitting there, I thought to myself. What if everything runs by the clock, with utmost punctuality? What if people realize that procrastination is a big time robber of time? Basically, here in Malaysia, we have our own time, we hardly abide to the Greenwich Meridien time like most developed countries. I'm very punctual by nature. But the reason no one realises my good virtue is because, no one would be there to greet me at the exact time of appointment, to know that I was punctual. Probably, if all of us learn to respect time, we would be by now, a developed country, rather than a wannabe developed country that is termed developing country.

I remember the time when my dad was in Tokyo back in the 90s. He was chauffered around by this very obliging and friendly Japanese man name Akiko ( I think..). They were at the MRT station, waiting for the train when an announcement blasted off in Japanese language. Turning around facing my dad, he bowed apologitically to my dad and said, "Ibrahimmm San, many apohlogies. The tshrain is going tooh beee rreyth." My dad, asked him, "How late?", wondering where they would go and wait for the late train. Akiko said, " The tshrain is going tooh beee tshree minutes lator." And his apologetic bowing resumed. My dad almost died of laughter.

Even in the Quran, the verse, "Demi masa, sesungguhnya manusia itu senantiasa di dalam kerugian". It's so true, as we are most of the time loosing out to time by having to wait. Wait, wait and more waiting. Although, there are some things that are worth waiting for, I dare say that we should start cultivating the culture of respecting TIME. Respect others' time. Many people say, "Oh! 24hours is not enough time for me!!" Well, if we were to cut down time in waiting, we'd still probably end up waiting, for bed time ( unless you're tired and desperately looking for excuses to not having sex at bed time, you won't mind the wait...)

In the meantime, I am still waiting for the first anak bulan Syawal to be spotted and I know that this year, like other years, I will be waiting in vain. But I so look forward to the Hari Raya Puasa, not because I enjoy it that much, but because it marks the end of the fasting month. Finally, I can get back to gaining the 3kgs I have lost during the fasting month. It'll take me one year to gain that lost 3kgs, just in time to loose it to the next fasting month. I know fasting is good for my health. But sometimes, I don't mind being slightly unhealthy, just as so I could fit into my kebaya and not look like it's hanging on a hanger!!

Eid Mubarrako everyone!!! Selamat Hari Raya and Maaf zahir batin to all, except to the government for the blunders they refuse to admit....

Yepp......Kids Say The Darnest Things

I was doing sprint cleaning jiggling to Nat King Cole's, "your story seemed so touchy but it sounds just like a lie" when my eyes were feasted upon a book on the dusty shelve. It was written by none other than Bill Cosby titled," Kids say the darnest thing". I read it years ago, during the days when I was still trying to get my head together, AND my body had not yet fallen apart (unlike the present moment whereby it is versa more than vice) . Gosh..those were the days..

A degree, marriage and one kid later, I find that I now truly decipher what the story was all about. They do. Kids say the darnest things. I recall when my daughter was about 5 years old, she drew this huge snake on the wall from the beginning of a staircase, right up to the the end , in permanent marker mind you. Pissed, but always believe in asking politely why kid perform their pranks, just out of my curiousity, I asked her, " Sayang, why did you draw that snake on the wall. I bought you lots of drawing papers so that you can draw on them. You should not have done what you did. Now the wall is a dirty."
She looked at me and in all honesty answered, " Sorry Ummi. I thought you'd like my beautiful drawing of this snake. I wanted to draw the longest snake for you, but the paper is too small and the snake won't fit in it ."
I was, speechless before bursting in a fit of laughter. But of course I had to explain to her why a small snake will make mommy happier.

Her grandfather tripped over the toys she left on the floor one day and before he could turn around and scold her for leaving her toys recklessly around, hurriedly with widened pupils she instead scolded my father in law, "Dadu jaaan. You should really watch where you are going. See, now you fall down and wreck my toys !!". My father in law found it totally amusing and was awed by the speed of which my daughter could come up with self defence at age of 5..




Then there was this time when my sister narrated an incident whereby she had an argument with my daughter. I find it funny that a then 20ish year old lady would get into a squable with a 5 year old kid. My sister nagged, "You have manage to wreck every single thing you put your hands on. What else have you not wrecked so far, tell me!!!".
My daughter gave an odd expression, as though she was in deep thought and answered back,
"The TV?". My sister just found it difficult to stay angry for long.


Still, at the age of 5, I remember her conversation with the father, who happen to be a doctor who smoked. (No, he did not die of lung cancer, instead, of a car crash. And we are all terrified of dying from cancer when the probability of dying on the road is much higher)
Mira: "Abah. Do you know that smoking is harzardous to your health?"
Abah: "Yeees", the father dragged the affirmation while puffing off what looked like smoke that came out from a guilty mouth.
Mira: "Then why are you still smoking?"
Abah: "I will stop someday"
Mira: "Promise?"
Abah: " Promise. You know I never break my promise"
Mira: "Abah, 'never' is a strong word"
My hubby and I looked at each other wondering where at age 5 a kid gets all this bombastic phylosophy.

My nephew who was 3years old back then, use to play "enjit enjit semut siapa sakit naik atas" with the maid, but with a twist. The maid would say, "enjit enjit semut, siapa sakit....." and my nephew would resume, "siapa sakit pergi hospital"..and we would always laugh at this.

Then there was this time when she was awfully naughty and I just got real mad and told her, "I swear by God you can be insufferable at times. I can't take it lar!!!". She was then 9years old, a precocious puberty I'd call her then. She just snorted and said, "If you can't take it now ummi, I'm telling you, life is not going to be easy for you in the near future."

Even at 10, I refuse to allow her to go off with friends to shopping malls etc, or go to the nearest shop, no matter how much she begged me. I'm just a paranoid when it comes to safety, a trait passed down for generations to ensure longevity of life. My excuse for not letting her go would be, "you are not street smart. It's dangerous.". She'd answer back defiantly, "Ummi, how can I be street smart when you won't even let me go on the streets?", to which I kept silent as I was face with a deja vous of the story of "which comes first? The chicken or the eggs?"...I guess, that is why the word,"because I told you so" was invented by not so genius moms like me. The phrase is obsolete in usefulness currently.

And at the age of 10, she kept insisting that she was a "pre-teen" and was in a phase whereby she was beginning to be aware of her physical growth. She would get into trouble at school for contesting her Uztazah's (female religious teacher) statement "Pakai Quitex adalah haraaaaam" by asking the Ustazah,
"Cikgu, mana dia orang tau Quitex tu haram cikgu, sebab masa zaman nabi dulu, Quitex belum dicipta lagi cikgu?" ( Translation: "Teacher, how do you know that Quitex is banned ? It was not even invented during our prophet's time?)..I am sure she wasn't trying to be funny because she is the inquisitive type , but the Uztazah was not at all amused.

She would stay at her grandparents' place over the weekend sometimes. My mother is fond of keeping the curry or certain dishes overnight or a few days, because apparently these dishes taste better after some time. I remember buying some food from the stall one day and it looked quite foul. My daughter had one look at it and ask me,"how sure are you that this dish has gone bad?". Holding a responsibility of a mom means you sometimes have to come up with a brilliant answer at all times, unless dumbfounded, I told her, "well, when in doubt, don't eat".
Hitherto, I still cannot comprehend how fast her mind network works when she answered, "Greaaaat...that means I have to starve at Tok's place lah..."

Really. Kids can be more receptive at times. I remember travelling in an LRT with her and as we passed by Station Dang Wangi, she commented, "Malaysians can be really confused people sometimes ummi." Bewildered, I asked,"what do you mean?".
"Well," she answered half smirking,"How can you call "dung" wangi?". We just giggled away.

I enjoy having conversations with my daughter. She's 13 now but never fail to keep me entertained with her wittiness. We'd have a battle of wittiness when the mood is right and I can tell you one thing, I enjoy every minute of it. Really. Kids do say the darnest thing.

My Way or The Highway.....

Here's how I drive. My driving policies are simple:

1. No signal no way.
You can drive the most posh car for all I care, but if your brain matter does not keep up with the glamorous car status, boleh blah, I won't give way. I'd rather give way to an old beaten car, but only if it complies to policy #3.

2. If you want to shift lane, you have to develope an impeccable timing of when to give the signal.
Giving the signal too early will give ample time for the car on the lane you are about to go into, to speed up to ensure you are not able to shift lane. It's a kind of National Sadism, Malaysian favorite past time, to inflict as much heartburn as possible to as many drivers as you can. Giving signal too late will earn you a middle finger thrown at your face and sometimes a jolly good honk.

3. If you want to give way to another car, make sure they are not rude, and not too polite either. The too polite drivers can sometimes be incompetent drivers too. Especially those bearing the sticker at the back of the car that reads,"Love all, be patient" or " To receive, one has to give".

They are not too polite actually, as you perceive, rather, too lembab and have no Malaysian driving skills. Oh yes, in KL, you don't need speed, you need driving skill and the ultimate knowlege of the cilok cilok alternative roads. ( The ones that sometimes cut through lanes with rumah urut berlesen and tanpa lesen around etc ). Next thing you need would be having the car you gave way to, drive slow in front of you and is a nervous "braker". He jams the brakes for no apparent reason, you'll begin to think he was giving way to the living dead that no other people except him can see.

4. Yellow light means, "Step on it, damn it!!"

5. Red light means,"Stop unless there is no car. Don't waste your time waiting for invisible man in his invisible car to pass by. Don't waste your brake pad oil". It's not like the oil price will ever come down. The only thing that could stay down in this present moment in our beloved country would be a man's you-know-what, when he can no longer afford the newly priced viagra.

This is not applicable however, when there are other cars around just so no one gets the same idea and we meet in the middle with a bang bigger than when the universe was created. Oh that and when there is no camera. You are a criminal only when you get caught. So when Bart Simpsons say it in one breath,"I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, can't prove anything", he is brilliant.....
This however, is not applicable to some cronies in Malaysia. I mean, if a political analyst have got the power to order policemen to blast a soul, and make immigration records dissappear, imagine what the people he analyze can actually do.


6. Green means, "Go, but with caution, as you'll never know which numb head may be color blind and has a 'kopi O licence', then drive in front of you regardless."


7. Give way. Treat the jerks on the road as if they are little kids with little brains or a handicap, which is half truth because most likely they are mentally challenged anyway.

My theory about malaysian drivers? Everyone is insane unless proven otherwise.

Bangkok 2007

Thailand trip log
Day 1: arrival Radison hotel
Huge airport (Suvarnabumi) with familiar architecture, Mr Kisho’s handiwork. I think.
Far busier than KLIA but that can be deceptive because I have seen KLIA as busy although only at speciic times.
Gorgeous hotel hostesses greeted our arrival at Radison hotel. Walking tourist information offices. I think its because they spoke English, other staff did not.
Large mosque by the expressway.
Signs of their reverance for their kind was everywhere. I wondered if this had anything to do with there being only one kind for the whole country. In Malaysia, we have several kings taking turns being the Agong.
Day 2: Assumption University, Bangkok.
The conference hall was held in what was basically a church although it was called a conference center.
It became obvious that the Thais were preocupied by the philosophy of self-sustainability.
I was astounded by the reverence and devotion the Thais have for their monarch. The last time I visited Bangkok I saw this too but this time it seems almost overpowering. Later this day I learnt that there are celebrating the King’s 80th birthday and his 50th year on the throne thus making him the longest reinging monarch in the world. the Thais were very proud of this. A uidebook told me that the Thais regard their King like a god but that description does not do justice to the practice we see here. It does not feel like religious devotion, more like nationalism but more extreme.
I also learnt that Bangkok or Krung thep as it is known by the local has the longest place namein the world – acknowledge by the Guinness book of world records. The full name of Bangkok is “Krungthepmahanakhon Amornrattanakosin Mahintharayutthaya Mahadilokphop Noppharat Ratchathaniburirom Udomratchaniwetmahasathan Amonphiman Awatansathit Sakkathattiyawitsanukamprasit”. And if we translate this into English, we get, “The city of angels, the great city, the residence of the Emerald Buddha, the impregnable city (of Ayutthaya) of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated God, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarn”. They have a song that they use to teach the name. Very grand, I think, especially when you consider Kuala Lumpur simply means ‘muddy estuary’.
At the conference, I learnt that the sustainability idea that kept cropping up in the Thai participants’ papers is actually the philosophy of sufficiency economy which was introduce by the monarch 30 years ago and has been used as a central idea for development since.
8 August 2007: Holiday Inn, Bangkok.
Moved to Holiday Inn, Bangkok today to get nearer to the city.
Tonight, I was ast the Patpong night market. It’s a night market much like any makeshift market you’ll find all over Asia but this one is lined by girlie bars where young ladies, and ladies made-up to look younger, dance around poles on stages and bar tops in skimpy bikinis. Their bored sway and blank faces are such a turn off. I wondered what these Mat Sallehs (Westerners) are so turned on about. A legacy of the Vietnam war’s GI rest and recreation break, this place still thrives.
I saw some of the se Mat Sallehs and non-Mat Sallehs with their rented ladies making their way back to their hotel rooms and wondered why anyone would pay to have sex with some of these women they were bringing back. More importantly, I am certain that alcohol had something to do with their ability to get an erection. Perhaps alcohol would also be necessary when morning comes and they wake up to find these women next to them in bed. Perhaps, I am being too pessimistic.
Then again, there were also some very comely ones, but not that many. I saw one gorgeous young lady in neon green bikini and high heels, I think she came out of the bar to buy a pack of cigarettes.
The whole bar and whore scene was really most beneficial to the alcohol industry, I guess. The real victims being the women who get fucked for a miniscular amount of money, but that too is relative perhaps.
At the Patpong market I bought some souvenirs for various people. At one stall I took a liking for a copy of a Montblanc ballpoint pen. The lady wanted 800 bath for it. I didn’t like the price so I offered 500 bath. After a few minutes of haggling, I decided to walk away. She stopped me and said, “ok, ok 300 bath”. I was surprised because it was 200 bath cheaper than I was offering, so I bought the pen without any arguments.
9 August 2007.
Took a boat ride on the Chao Phraya and visited Wat Arun – a temple. When I woke up this morning I thought of last night’s trip to Pat Pong and I remembered an 80s song by Alphaville, it goes “One night in Bangkok makes the hard man humble, notmuch between despair and ecstasy, I can feel the devil walking next to me”. The devils in this case were the touts harassing me with plastic files with pictures and posters trying to entice me to shows where they had tiger shows and god knows what else.
My group went to Jatucak: place with a market, a couple of malls and a bazaar area cramped closely together. Our tour guide told us that hisplace was huge and cautioned us to careful not to get lost. When I saw the place, I guessed that he had never been to Midvalley KL. Mr Ahmad, the tour guide, however, did accurately descibe the palce as selling cheap goods or unpredictable quality.
I noticed that here too they had an elaborate shrine outside the shopping complex. These are not devoted to Buddha however, instead this the one in Jatucak, as were many others I saw, was devoted to different dieties including a many limbed one. I was reminded of a Sufi story about King Solomon meeting a scorpion. The Prophet – King asked the scorpion what God was like and the scorpion said, “We have one sting; God has two”.
I bought some souvenirs. I noticed that there were Muslim traders almost everywhere in Bangkok as long as you looked for them. As I walked among the food hawkers in front of the Jatucak Mall, I saw a Muslim trader’s stall selling noodles in soup. For a moment, I was tempted to try but across the path, a few feew away from the Muslim trader was a stall selling pork sausages. I thought, I’d wait for a while longer because I was told that we were going to for Arabic food later.
We had dinner at the Nana district in the Sukhimvit area. It’s a place where Arabic, Indian and Muslim from all over live, trade and congregate. Admittedly the food was nice but not so nice. I would certainly look fo this place again if I come to Bangkok again.
11 August 2007.
My Montblanc pen ran out of ink, expectedly, today. After a few attempts at looking for a montblanc refill, I discovered that it takes a standard parker pen refill.
The last day was relaxing. I walked around centrral Bangkok taking pictures of shrines and people. Ronald MacDonald was ‘wai’ing (traditional Thai greeting pose) instead of waving.
Our flight was at around 8 pm. As we were walking around the sprawling Suvarnabumi airport, I thought I saw Tengku Nazrin of Perak with a few official looking people but I could not be certain because when I got to where he was, he was gone. I think he had just exited the prayer room.
It rained quite heavily but the rain died nown a little when we took off. God, how I hate flying in the rain.
Thankfully, I got back in one piece.
I took some photos when I was there. If you are interested in seeing the photos, please visit my photobucket page. I'll add the URL later.

My Fraser's Hill Escapade

Did I get your attention yet? No, this is not the portrait of any one of my bosses that I don’t like, although, I can’t help but understand how you people came up with the metaphor behind it. This is a photo taken of a horse in Fraser’s Hill. This is one of the horses tourists ride on, charged RM4 for one lap.

My daughter was already riding this poor creature by the time I realized, as I photographed her, that the horse was in a sad state, it was too late to tell her to get off it. I really do not care if this is the ass of one of the famous Hollywood megastars, suffering from bulimia or anorexia. They are earning millions, unlike this poor horse, deprived of the proper food they deserve.
I told my daughter to get off the horse immediately. She was initially upset but agreed that we should not support such “recreational” act if it means torturing this creature of God. I guess the next step is to complain of such occurrences.

You know how it is in Malaysia. Things can only get done if you complain. The more you complain, the more get done. The much frequently you complain regarding one complaint, the faster things actually get done. Furthermore, the more important you are in the eyes of society, more things get done at a lightning pace.

I think the cat must have eaten all the horses’ food. I mean, look at it.

He’s friendly too. Obviously, it’s a male cat. Only the male cats know where to put their paws on, when they're in the playing mode, it's a male thing. Can’t help but notice the two balls dangling and banging away. It kind of reminded me of what most government servants do at work.

Even my dad couldn’t resist playing with him. He was probably checking the gender of the cat too. It’s a hereditary habit I guess, some kind of a inborn metabolic error passed down for generations. Lately, looking at many human, the task is getting tougher as there are many gender confused beings. This cat is definitely male, both testes successfully descended.

Fraser’s Hill would be a brilliant short escapade from the hustle and bustle of KL life. (take note the word 'short escapade'. Stay too long, you may end up talking to yourself or if you go with family, you may suffer over-bonding and end up in big squables!!! Stay until just before everyone get bored then grumpy.....) It’s quieter than the more visited Cameron Highlands, and less time taken to get there. We had fun walking though. Walk walk walk. The weather was brilliant. I tried absorbing as much scenery as I could.

The first thing my daughter asked me when we reached Fraser’s Hill, was “ What is that weird smell Ummi? Did you fart again?” . I answered, “That’s the smell of fresh air sayang”. And for the next 3days, we replaced the thick polluted carbon air trapped in our lungs from passive smoking cigarretes and vehicle exhaust, with the fresh air that smelt like my fart, according to my daughter’s nasal interpretation.

We did a lot of walking.
The view was breathtaking. It helped that the air is clean when we fell into that heavy breathing mode.
So you think only overseas have these views? Think again. This is the view taken from one of the old government bungalows, available for rent.
Of course, getting communication can be quite challenging. When people tell me to get lost, I’d go to places where I’m un-contactable, especially by phone, which is total bliss. That's my idea of getting lost in style. But when I want to get transmission, I can be quite tenacious. That’s one virtue I have that most of the time may irritate others.


Although the picture of me trying to get phone transmission may look like a low budget documentary, with the same people in them ( that's my sister jogging at the background), there are scanty people around to take photos of in the first place. I think the population of bugs outnumber human population here.

I fell in love the instance I set my eyes on the “Ol ye Smoke House”. Set in Tudor era, the interior décor was at harmony with the British colony ambience. Here are some photos.

The log was not actually burning. It was fake, but convincing at first glance.

Authentic cononial interior decor that turned my brown eyes blue.
Very cozy. This is the kind of house that if a couple do no practice safe sex, they may produce many accidental offsprings.

I wonder if we can shoot the movie,"Sherlock's Holmes was a Malaysian" in this room...

I took a swirl of this world map and realise, I have so many more places to go to so that one day I can turn around to my grandchildren and say, "I've seen the world". Oh, and since the world comprises of 3/4 sea, I guess I'd have to do a lot of deep sea diving in the future. Hmmm....

Oh, I'm a woman, it's natural that I pay attention to details..

Suddenly,I saw a vision of me growing old with my future spouse. This is how I want to spend my dying days. Smooch and snuggle with my spouse on the swing, just watch the sun set and rise. At that age, we'd probably do not need to get off the swing to go to the loo as we'd probably have a urine bag attached for his prostate and my urinary incontinence condition. Nor do we need to brush our teeths as we'd just have to soak our false teeths in a glass full of normal saline. So that will give us ample time to hang out on the swing all day long.

I haven't found him yet though. At the rate I am going, I suspect I may have resolve into going around kissing frogs hoping one of them will turn into a Prince Charming. Maybe that is what they mean by "men are animals". You may get lucky and kiss the right frog, at the right time. Oh yes, timing is of essence. You don't want to kiss a frog when he is still in the "commitment phobic" or a midlife crisis state.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s? A bit crowded for that, I think. This photo is taken after breakfast at the garden patio of Ol' Ye Smokehouse.

I found this next shot to be quite funny. Maybe to you it is not, but I was high on fresh air at the time, and fresh air can have a laughing gas effect as well. It's either that or you have lost your sense of humour.

I think, sometime in the future, there will be a case whereby the occupants of Rumah Methodist will find their mails end up at this Chinese Prayer Alter. You and I know the capabilities of a few of our postmen…

You think the Methodist House is having a tough time sorting out their mail.?? Check out the next photo.....


Hmm..maybe I'd change my address to Rumah Methodist Fraser's Hill, at the income tax department...

Resting in Ramadhan

It's been four days since I started fasting in Ramadhan, and frankly, I am beginning to think that it had altered my mood. Or perhaps it is my patients. I just don't get it. Patients come in sick, having fever, expecting me to examine them, then when I want to do my job, they ask me dumb questions, which I see it as a test from God.

Question #1 :
I get this sometimes when I need to put a thermometer into a patient's mouth to check the temperature.
Patient : " Is it okay to put that in the mouth?"
My thoughts: "Why? Would you rather me take your anal temperature instead?"
As usual, I'd say: "Why?"
Patient : "I understand when you're fasting, you cannot put anything into any orifices"
My thoughts: "Tell me you gain satiety just snacking on thermometers or plunge into an abyss of multiple orgasms the moment I stick this gadget into your mouth and I'll try to understand your fetish and why you don't want this in your mouth."
But I said: "Well, I don't see why not,it's not like I'm putting food into your mouth. But if you feel uncomfortable then, I won't use this"

Question #2: Prescribing medication for the infected ears, whereby I have to prescribe ear drops and it works better when put frequently, is not a favourite treatment.

Patient: "Is it okay for me to put this into my ears, I'm fasting"
My thoughts: "Here we go again. What is it about us Muslims and holes?!!!"
I said: "I get this a lot you know. But I keep telling everyone, if you're sick, you're sick. You need to get this medication as prescribed otherwise,your condition will deteriorate and soon, I doubt you will be able to hear the Azan for buka puasa. Besides, if you're sick, you really shouldn't fast. But if you ask me, I won't want to skip fasting just to have some ear solution dropped into my ears.Won't do any good for my cholestrol levels. I think that is the main reason for fasting"(..."besides teaching me patience" I continued in my head)

Question #3:
Patient: "May I have the day off today doctor?"
I asked: "Why don't you break fast and take the medication. You'll feel much better after that"
Patient: "I don't want to break my fast, it'll be a waste. I just need rest, then I'll be okay"
My thoughts: "You don't want to break fast to feel better yet you just want to waste company's money by lying around in the house waiting for buka puasa time. Those days, people go to war to defend their religion during the fasting month you know. Besides, God says that if you are not well, don't fast and try to get better. You've got your priority mixed up"
I'd say: " You're not that sick. All you need is to take the medication and you'll be up and about again. Don't you want to feel better? Besides, if you continue fasting when you're sick, which is by the way, against God's ruling, you'd get more sick by tomorow. What do you want to do then? Fast, take another day off and get more sick?"

Question #4:

A patient came in just 25minutes after lunch time, claiming she was suffering from a severe chest pain. It was my lunch time but since it is fasting month, I was busy doing things I usually don't do at the time. It's amazing how much free time one has when she's not eating. Anyway, I told my nurse to do an ECG (a machine to record heart attacks). Odd enough, the lady refused despite us being adamant about the need of taking her ECG.

Patient : Do I have to take off my bra for this ECG? I am fasting.I don't my "puasa to batal"
My thoughts: You mean you're worried that the moment I see your breasts, I'd think of milk and meat and get hungry, therefore MY puasa will batal? Do you actually think the doctors get turned on looking at private parts? We see them as soon as we entered medical school and frankly, even if I am a lesbian, I'd need therapy just to get turned on looking at naked bodies. Or are you telling me you get turned on having a woman look at your breasts? Or are those actually real breasts? Hmm..What a mind boggling question you've just asked me. Never knew a simple bra could boggle a mind. Imagine what I am capable of thinking if I am not fasting and have all that sugar for energy to think at my fullest capacity.
I told my nurse instead, to tell the lady with the breast full of secrets: If she refuses ECG, there's nothing much I can do about it. I only entertain emergency cases at this time, otherwise, come back at 2pm.
The patient asked: If I come back at 2pm, do I still have to take ECG and take off my bra?
My thoughts: If you're having a heart attack, we will not see you at 2pm. But if you manage to survive you chest pain, I'll ask everyone to do the ECG blindfolded, you included. You might batal your puasa looking at your own breasts.
I told my nurse to tell her: Ask her what she wants me to say.
My nurse who knows me too well told the patient: The doctor said yes.
Patient: I think I'll wait after buka puasa then I'll do the ECG.
My thoughts: Let me guess,you just guard your private parts only when you fast. Other times, it is okay to flash. Hmmm...Whatever. I hope you live till then and have a good day. I wonder what I am going to cook for my buka puasa today..should I try the Italian recipe book I just bought or....oh, anything but milk and chicken breasts will do...
I told my nurse to tell the patient: I hope her chest pain is not a heart attack but merely an eruption of a new third breast.
The same nurse told the patient: The doctor says if the pain becomes severe, please come back before then. We'll be here for you.

Question #5 :
Patient is having haemarrhoids (piles) and bleeding.

Patient: "Are you sure that you are going to put that thing inside my anus?
My thoughts: "No, but I'd do it anyway because I am bored and looking at assholes perks me up"
But I said: "You say you're bleeding and the only way for me to be sure what is the cause of bleeding, is to put this proctoscope into your anus to see, why is it shedding blood"
Patient: "Would it ruin my fast?"
My thoughts: "Give me a second and I'll speak to God and negotiate. AAAUUUUUMMMMMMM. Yes, God had asked me to pass on this message to you. God told me to tell you that you're having menses, except from the adjacent hole. Break your fast and your anal virginity by letting the doctor shove the proctoscope up yours.P/S He won't penalize you for breaking fast today and this is not considered as sodomy. Yours Sincerely, God."
But I said: "I won't examine if you are not comfortable with it, but I insist that you need to, otherwise, I may be giving you the wrong treatment"

I have to admit though, I am getting less patients during fasting month. Funny how,it's just not shoving medical gadgets into orifices that shies the patients away, it's also the injections and the blood taking too.Are we not to donate blood during fasting month even though there is dire and urgent need to do so? People are so much occupied with the trivial matters that they have failed to see the purpose of fasting as a whole (not hole). Hmm Perhaps this not wanting to shove things into any orifice fatwa may be beneficial to my health after all. Finally, I get to rest a bit.

The X-Files, Malaysian Style

I love to watch the X-files. It used to be one of the hit series. Agent Mulder and whats-her-name, (well, I only remember the good looking heroes, it is healthy. You should start worrying if I fancy the heroines), never fail to entertain us with mind boggling scenes. One thing I like about Hollywood movies, even when they're illogical, they are the most logically convincing illogicallity. I mean, if you want to lie, go all the way right?

Take the big lie of man landing on the moon for instance. Oh, for those of you who had not seen the documentary on this, in Discovery Channel sometime ago (not done by the muslims by the way) , the scientists scrutinized the film of men landing on moon, and suggested that the film was most likely shot on some man made site. You'd probably find the weapon of mass destruction at the same location, I reckon.

In the spirit of Malaysia Boleh! , I can't help but wonder how it would be like having a TV series of the same theme, of our own. Picture this. The hero would be Hans Isaac, because, he's probably one of the good looking male actor who do not look stupid, and can actually act. The heroine, well, I don't really care who, because I won't be looking at her that much anyway, would be, let me see, Ida Nerina. Yes, she looks smart, I suspect she is smart in real life too. You can just tell. ( It takes a smarty pants to recognize another). Why the importance of good looking leading roles? In case you hadn't noticed, in Malaysia, the Pan Asians and the good looking people gets almost all the leading role. If you're good looking and have nothing better to do, get into the Malaysian showbiz. It would be a bonus if you could actually act or sing. Talk about reality bites, this one bites you on the butt.

In this particular episode, Agent Hans and Agent Ida were called in for a case whereby a supermodel of Bangladesh origin was blasted to pieces. Apparently, the supermodel , male by the way, was traced back to a Minister's butler. Would mentioning that the butler is male be redundant? Is there a female butler? Well, anyway, if there is such thing as a female butler,this one's a male. The butler, with the help of two special unit policemen who seem to be his drinking buddies, were responsible in the killing then the bombing to pieces, of the unfortunate Bagladeshi model. Err, by drinking buddies,( as I am a muslim, and I must keep my article and imagination as halal as possible) I meant that they drink the remaining tapai syrup together almost every other day, at one of the police's mother's home, as she sells the tapai, and it seem wasteful to just throw away the tapai juice. Islam prohibits wastage and tapai juice, although consist ethanol,the only one of the twelve type of alcohol from alcohol family that possess intoxicating properties, is declared halal by our Imams.

The plot thickens. Agent Hans banged his head on his locker, after getting out of the hot shower, a method he normally use when he needed to think straight, much to the spectator's delight of course. The unwiped half water half vapour dribbled from his soaking hair, down to his muscular chest, his 6 packs and .......WOAH.....sorry, I got side tracked just thinking of Agent Hans getting out of the shower in a skimpy towel...Back to the actual story, Agent Hans wondered hard, why he did not thought of becoming a Minister's butler, as such positions may reward him the power to blast anyone to pieces. He couldn't help wondering what the butler's boss can do with HIS power. At this point, the spectator couldn't be bothered with the plot, as they were busy admiring Agent Hans showing off what his papa gave him.

Oh wait, I forgot about Agent Ida. She's still in the scene. Being a female however, naturally she is quicker to think, as unlike men, women only have one head and that cuts down the chances of less blood supply to support the thinking process. Poor men. Not many can think straight especially when females are involved, due to lack of oxygen from blood supply. The two heads have to share the total body blood. Blood supply split into two, some go to the head on the neck and the one between the thighs Unfortunately, everything has to obey the gravitational law, therefore, as the latter is lower, more blood flows to it. That explains why most wars are instigated by the more silently intelligent women. Perhaps men may do better on the moon.

Agent Ida, oozing with intelligence, managed to figure out the connection between the butler, the Bangladeshi model, and the minister. This led to the revelation of the biggest scandal of the millenium. As Malaysians like to talk a lot, and aloud, especially in cinemas, while the movie is playing,( its bad enough having the scene half covered with subtitles in three languages, some monkey had to read them aloud, or explain to their friend who doesn't comprehend the language of the movie, nor the subtitle ) this time, our culture proved itself worthy. Information from the public lead the two agent to believe that the two policemen, the butler, the minister and the Bangladeshi model belong to the same secret society called , " The Bangla Dash" where free homosexuality is their core practice. They also found out, not to their surprise though, that Ayah Pin was kicked out of the circle of trust, as he tried to bring in female members into the secret society.

To cut the story short, all of them, were caught in some bombastic scene involving explotion of what look like a miniature car blasted with fireworks. ( Hey, this is a low budget movie okay. Can't take the risk of plunging in too much money in movies other than the love story or the ghost story, or the ghosts' love story, here in malaysia. Remember Sumolah? Not many malaysians like thinking movies, although they will go and watch Hans Isaac in his skimpy towel scene and the beautiful Ida Nerina) And of course the minister was spared. (are you mad?!! In Malaysia,Ministers are like Bollywood stars in India!!! Practically the untouchable. I can't comment on Sanjay Dutt however. Even in the movie, they cannot be caught!! It's impossible!! Both in fiction and non fictional stories). And of course we all know Ayah Pin dissapeared, why do you think I added him in this Malaysian X-file movie.
They were tried in the court of justice. What do you mean by, "justice?", this is a movie. Unrealistic things happen in a movie.

You know lah our ju-DICK-tiory system, very slow lah. However. on the contrary to public assumptions, although almost all law books are in english, the lawyers did not encounter much problems translating what they learn in University, which were all in English, to the compulsory usage of Bahasa Malaysia in our local court, as 3/4 of the terminology evolved from English words, and all they had to do was add the phrase "-i" at the back of each terminology, or should I spell it as "terminologi"?

We all know the verdict at the end of the long court drama, so long and winding, some even got bored and started playing sudoku while waiting for trial. I'm trying to keep the series as realistic as possible. And of course, to be able to do that, the plot will end up with everyone acquited. That is the only way that the Minister will remain untouchable, both fictional and non fictionally. Or perhaps, I create a plot whereby they will be charged, each with minimal sentence, let them off from jail earlier on grounds of good behaviour, they will come out and lots of unexplained money in their bank accounts will be discovered.

So why do I call this television series the X-files, when there is no aliens nor UFOs involved? Don't you get it? The truth remained elusive and uncovered, just like the UFOs and aliens. This is where the thrill lies. To remain elusive and uncovered. These files ends up with the rest of the Malaysian X-files, for example "The APs and no downs of Rafidah", "How to get through Australian Immigration, by Muhammad Taib, (our non English speaking Menteri Besar)", "Renong-lah Daim" to name a few. Future incoming files would probably be, " Hishamudin and the RM3 karipap", "Altantuya, the suicide bomber" etc etc...Yessssss. I see future in Malaysian X-files series. Move aside Afdlin Shauki, Yasmin Ahmad, especially Yusof Haslam, because a new low budget movie director is born.

It's a bird!! It's an aeroplane!!! It's.....the moon???!!!!

Hari Raya is coming. "YAAY!!!" would be my respond, say, 35years ago. Now, I'd sound like that character in Winnie the Pooh, Eiyor the donkey, I believe, and say, "ooooh deaaaaar...Hari Raya is coming. Oh deaaaaaar." Why shouldn't I sound suicidal? Back then I looked forward to getting hari raya money, now, I have to spend money to make Hari Raya happen. It gives the true meaning to "what goes around comes around" , except it works on reverse mode whereby I get the money first, when I was pre puberty, now, I have to spend later in life.

A few thoughts crossed my mind, as it does every year.

First, will I survive this year's Puasa month to actually live to see Hari Raya?
( I am 5'5", weighs 50kgs, before pooping. I have all the necessary organs my mama gave me to swoosh my toosh on the catwalk but may look like my TB patient after 1 week of diarrhea. For those of you who actually know how I look like, you definitely know what I mean. Oh, and sorry if I have broken some hearts, if I may take this opportunity to apologise..OH BEHAAAAAVE BAYBEEE....)

Secondly, will it finally happen this year? Will we finally be able to see the ellusive "anak bulan syawal"? I would like to hear, at least once, before I leave this world for good the announcement that goes, " Setelah dipersetujui, penyimpan mohor besar Raja Raja telah melihat anak bulan syawal pada sekian sekian tarikh. Oleh itu, adalah diishtiharkan, bahawasanya, hari raya puasa tahun ini, jatuh pada hari esok, yakni sekian sekian haribulan...."

Frankly, I have my doubts. No one will actually get to see the anak bulan syawal. Why? For three reasons actually;

1. The method used to determine Eidul Fitri is practiced by the Arab nation, whereby, they have not much rain in a year. This is due to the lack of clouds and therefore, if they are really the type to sit out and look at the sky, instead of their four wives' whatever, they could see the aliens, climbing into their spaceship, just before boarding from their galaxy.

In Malaysia, on the contrary, even though our highways are built as if it rained once in a year, we get rain almost every other day. That means we have clouds every other day. So, at the end of the day, the ahli falaq would have more fun imagining what forms can the clouds take, rather than trying to catch a glimpse of the moon.

2. The gadgets and apparatus used to perform this ritual of locating the anak bulan syawal are those made before masehi or before christ, or whichever that came earlier. When I was a kid, I often imagine that the Penyimpan Mohor Besar Raja Raja do nothing except "simpan" the Mohor Besar, probably take it out once a week and give it a good buff or two. Perhaps they are so busy with the task, that they haven't had sufficient time to upgrade the apparatus. Saving tax payer's money? Well, I guess if the government is so concerned about that, then perhaps they should just abolish the whole trip to go look for the anak bulan syawal in the first place and settle for Lunar Calculations.

3. The people at the gazing end of the apparatus, are probably as ancient as the apparatus itself.


So there you go. Three reason why we will not be able to view the anak bulan syawal this year, again, and probably never will. So folks, make sure you don't cook your ketupat one day earlier, because you hear rumours that it's going to be different this year.

Selamat Berpuasa everyone. There goes my extra 2kilos I worked hard to gain the whole year through.....

My Biggest Occupational Hazard

I love my job. I love everything about it. Well,almost everything. I don't quite like the bosses. Most of them anyway.(yes, I am at the bottom of the food chain obviously). Then again, who does. Even the office Ass Lickers don't like the owner of the Ass they kiss religiously everyday at work in pursue of climbing the corporate ladder. The bosses are not meant to be liked. It's their job description. In fact, sometimes,they are even hated. Why do you think the pay is huge? It is to compensate for the emotional damage, of the depression of knowing that no one likes them at the workplace, even though the employees seem extremely polite and with constant smiley faces.

They probably had to fill this form during job application that requires answering questions like:

1. How many times in a year do you find your car mysteriously malfunctioning?
(This question is non applicable to the Proton cars)

2. Have any attempt in severing your car be made yet, and if so, please state the frequency.

3. Any missed, could have been accidents while walking out to get lunch lately?

4. How many times in a year do you suffer from diarrhea, after attending company functions?

4. Have you gotten any express delivery of parcel that contain voodoo dolls in the past 5 years? If so, what are the sizes and quantity of needles used.

5. Have you experienced this uncontrollable farting attack when coming into contact with your chair in the workstation? Have you ever checked if the office petty cash had been spent buying garlic?

7. Have you gotten any spiteful letters , or brochures of the movie "Jangan Pandang Belakang" or death threats throughout your career and if so, please state the frequency.

8. Have you ever experienced chest pains at work, and if so, was there any delay in turn up of the ambulance coming to your rescue?

Gosh.. when I struck lottery, and win big, I will buy the company and become the boss. First, I've got to make a habit of buying lottery. If only I have ample time for that.....sigh...talk about occupational hazard...

" Khia bollo aaap?"

Picture this. A prominent shopping mall. 20 guards working at a time. 5 of them Nepalis,5 Indonesians,5 are Indians from India. The other 5 are Pakistanis.
A robbery is taking place. Alarm went off. Robbers fled off with a bag full of loots. Guards scattered everywhere., running, perspiring. Walkie talkie buzzing. Then dzzzzzzzzzzzzzaaaaap. Reality bites. Now, can someone tell me in what bloody language are could these metropolitan guards communicate amongst each other to help catch the robbers ( who are probably Malaysians who could not get jobs and turned to crime, due to these influx of "foreigners" working as labour), since non of these "foreigners" could comprehend acceptable amount any language spoken by Malaysians? Hmm...perhaps Afdlin Shauki and Harith Iskandar should consider this scene for "AHA the movie".

I cannot decide which is more irritating. The people who hire the "foreigner" guards or the "foreigner" guards themselves. I mean,is there a point hiring a security body that causes insecurity to the public?

For instance, I went to Giant Hypermart on Saturday. The big gate was still closed at 9am. There stood this two guards, just standing there looking at the car queue building up. They just stood there, allowing only the commercial cars to come in. 0905hrs and still no sign of gate opening. The cars now made 2 rows of queue, the car that came in last cut the original queue to form another. I mean, do you expect anything less from us malaysians? Its to do with the failure of our education system in not just teaching civics, but create awareness of why being civic minded is as important as breathing. Make me the Education Minister, and the first thing I'll do is make Civics a major exam subject. Paper would consist of 30% theory and the rest is field work. That is why I am not the Education Minister. That and my father only earned his "Datuk" title by gaining lots of grandchildren. Ergo, I can barely make it in politics. End of story.

Back to the men in blue, who just stood there, by then, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the angry stares they were getting. If only stares could bore holes, they'd look like a chunk of cheese...Time: 0907hrs and I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went out, walked over to the guards and ask them in bahasa malaysia, then proceeded to English when I got that expression Mr Bean uses when trying to figure out something he could not decipher, asking them whats going on. The only answer comprehensible to me was, "Gate open at 9.15 maam". I looked at my watch, 0910, looked at them in disdain,(it's a thing I learned in Pakistan, when handling what they term as "inferiors"), and was about to ask them back,"What is the difference in opening the gate now?" then , before they thought of answering back,"the difference is five minutes maam", I decided to rephrase my question to," what difference does 5 minutes do to you?". That was when I found out that "Gate open at 9.15 maam" was probably the only English vocabalary these men possess.

It doesn't help that my Hindi/Urdhu, which is another languages these Nepali guards speak, reciprocates their communication skills in English and Bahasa Malaysia. So, having wasted 5minutes in attempt to get the gate opened, the gate finally opened anyway. But I must admit, I walked off, pretending to look smug and as if I was the one who'd manage to get the guards to listen to my command and open the gate there and then. That's something I did not learn from Pakistan, instead, from us Malaysians. Even when you fall down on the pavement, get up, brush yourself, put on a dignified annoyed stare at the ground like it was the ground's fault you caved in to the law of gravity, then walk off with your nose high up in the air, like you just don't care. You can massage the pain later when you reach the corner just 200meters away from where you fell down.

Really. Seriously. Is there a point in hiring dumb guards who do not have simple common sense, not to mention cannot converse in any of our languages? Of course they were ordered to open up the gate at 0915hrs. But using simple common sense plus a wee bit of discretion, upon looking at the car pile up, would have lead these men to open the gates perhaps a little bit earlier than due. After all, customers are always right,excuusssse me. Giant Hypermart should have just put a time automated gate instead, then create another entrance for the traders. Its easier to handle the heartless iron gate, less expectations. On second thoughts, it is becoming clear to me why they chose men over the iron gate. It's Sadism actually.

I suspect someday, God forbid, some riot may occur in Chow Kit Road between the Indonesians and the locals, that perhaps begin with an Indonesian saying, "Itu gampang namanya kok" and a local china man named 'Wah Long Kok' (yeah rite...) , thinking the Indonesian and called him a bastard. But then again, this kind of riot may be instigated by Samy Veloo giving a speach in some kampung area when he say,

" Sayya amat berdukacite, kerane, pemuda pemuda di kampung ini suke mengisap dadee. Walaubagaimanapun, saya amat bersuka cite, kerane pemudi pemudi di sini, gemar menderme daree..." ( Aww..its an old fermented joke my lecturer started in our lecture hall years ago)

Come to think of it, the next time I get into the same scenario with these men in blue, I'd just walk up to them and say, use my charming smile ( Erin Brockevich had great boobs, so I had to settle with a charming smile instead ), and say perhaps, "Hi monyet. Nak makan pisang?", and I know they will smile back at me amicably and reply,"The gate open 9.15 maam" . Now isn't that disservice with a smile?

"So You Think You Can Act?"

Doctors can be the biggest actors and actresses. Really. We're entertainers by nature. Almost everyone who comes into the clinic would suffer from something that can be diagnosed and managed during our sleep. So, we tend to entertain patients instead,more of self entertainment actually, as most GPs are basically brain dead anyways.So self entertainment is a form of brain ressussatation to keep the grey matter at least functioning. Forget about curing as we still haven't found the cure for influenza!! Lucky is if the patient comprehends the joke narrated while waiting for the thermometer to be taken out from the patients mouth (I mean, it could be totally awkward just to sit there and stare at the patient after shoving a thermometer down his...). I use to laugh at my own jokes while the patient look at me bewildered. It doesn't help that doctor's jokes are mostly as dry as a menopausing woman.

Why we'd make a good actor/actresses? Well, we tend to show contradictory expressions on our faces , compared to the emotion we felt simultaneously. For instance, I had to put on a straight stoned face when I had to extract this condom that got stuck in a 55year old lady's you-know-what.I was expecting a regular condom when my jaw almost dropped when I saw this weird looking condom at the grip of my forceps. But of course I had to maintain my macho. Suddenly, I felt a gush of laughter choking my breath.(thank God I did not take petai for lunch and of course I did not laugh aloud, its totally unprofessional. Its okay to feel unprofessional, but not to get caught practicing it)... Feasted upon my condom-virgin eyes, was this 1/2 inch long ( or should i say "short"), studded and pink in color condom. To me, it resembled this giant muscular hydra. It was bad enuff that I was traumatized by the UFO(Unidentified F%$@#ing object)-condom, to have found it in an old lady's reproductive system was quite devastating!!!(how come she was having more explicit sex than any of us..totally unfair!!). My mind was boggling,wondering why the hell that 55years old lady bothered having sex at all with someone who uses 1/2inches size condoms. She'd probably be luckier sitting on a washing machine. He..he...he..

Okay, I googled "studded condoms" out of curiousity and found the particular type of condom in question. Apparently, it is called "french tickle condom". I felt like telling the mak nyah, "Honey, at 55, you need more than a just a tickle to get you by..."

MY APOLOGIES FOR THE NAKED WOMAN as I truly do not know how to obliterate the picture, without jeopardizing the precious condom pic. Here's just to share it with all of you. It's a lesson never too late to learn.



Don't they look like toys from china, albeit toys from china are being taken off the market as we are speaking,in view of lack of safety measures...hmmm...obviously the old lady did not read the papers. I doubt chinese papers would print negative things about china products...

My face was straight serious and concern, while my tummy was experiencing Tsunami waves from trying to contain my laughter. That is why, doctor's should not keep a beer belly. It's a dead give away!!

Back to the original context, we doctors cry when listening to a patient who break down because of some domestic problems. Yeah...another hubby having "midlife crisis and since he cannot afford a Harley Davidson, he'd get a new girlfriend instead"...oh tell me something new. In reality, when a doctor cries with you, appear to be intently listening to your problems which you have narrated for the 5th time in that one month, she/he is actually crying because she hadn't had her meal yet, and the gastric pain is inducing the tears. It doesn't help at all when while waiting for the patient to stop whining, we doctors catch a glimpse of the piled up patients' card, all waiting for the whiner to complete the whining and get on with life, so that they could come in and have their turn to whine. Sigh...talk about occupational hazard...

Sometimes, when doctors laugh at something you say that you could have sworn isn’t that hilarious, but laugh along anyway just to be polite, it’s probably because they had to find a discrete method of covering up the insidious release of flatulence without the embarrassment of getting caught. It used to be easier when we were in the operating theater, when everyone was made compulsory to wear masks. Even if no one is wearing a mask, we’d still get away with farting by blaming it on an unidentified new anesthetics gas. Haaa,the perks of this profession. Revolting, but true.

Sometimes, when a doctor seemed angry with you for not taking that regular medication, he/she is probably having a bad day (she most likely due to PMS and he most likely because of not getting any…bear in mind, men have two heads, the other head malfunction if the other is not functioning, and vice versa by the way.). Taking it out on the patient may be a vent for the steam build up from frustration within. And you thought we give a shit if you are irresponsible to your own health. You people are so vain.

There you go...if there are any unsung heroes in the world of entertainment, we are the ones. We laugh, we cry, we frown, all for the different reasons... The greatest of actors/actresses, yupp..that’s us…
If someone were to come up with a reality TV show titled, “So you think you can act?”, be wary when any doctors enroll in the competition. They may just walk away with the trophy. And you thought politicians are the biggest act of all….

Spank Her If You Must

My daughter came home one day, almost in tears. Apparently, she made the mistake of not completing her term homework and the teacher made an acid remark regarding her late father. "Please do not use the orphan status to gain sympathy", said the teacher, who is the coordinator of Bahasa Malaysia homework, an orphan herself. She doesn't know my daughter at all, for she had not had the privilege of teaching my daughter's class. From someone who is basically a perfect stranger to my child, she added," if your father is alive today, he would have been ashamed of you".

I thought to myself, had my late hubby is still alive today, he would have told my daughter , "I know it is difficult to finish your homework, as none of your parents could manage that either, during their time in school, but try not to get caught"..

For those of you who had known my late hubby, you'd agree that that is what he's most likely would say. Perhaps even added,not to my daughter, but to me, " thank god our daughter does not spend all her childhood time completing homework designed by Ministers who they themselves have no trust to the education system they had laid out to the Malaysian citizen, instead, send their kids to private schools.".

How exactly would I like my daughter to spend her childhood time? Well,she should spend it being a child of course!! Enjoy it, because she will never get it back!!! That was exactly how I raised her. The house was almost alway messy from a child's activity. Boxes cut out to be transformed into a space shuttle, a barbie doll's house, a demolecularizer box where human demolecularize and dissapear from one zone to another, when they remolecularize.

I remember coming home one day, mira was about 7years old. The maid got a nice acid remark for what I thought to have been failure on her part to clean the cobweb on the lighting set hanging low from the ceiling , casting its light onto our dining table. The maid looked taken aback and blamed my daughter for it. I was about to scream at her, (you know how maids are trained by fellow countrymen to lie no matter what. They will gain 5kilos over 2 months and your child stays super skinny and they would still insist they are not given enough food and your child was the one piping down all the good expensive food into their system!!!). Apparently, my daughter made that cobweb by using PVA glue. She explained to me, with a grin that almost split her cute face into two cute faces, that all she did was rub the glue onto her hands and rub,then clap her hands just below the chandelier, and the small strands of glue would travel up slowly, then deposit onto the surface, forming , walla!! cobwebs!!!...

She's a reader, my daughter. That made her hit precaucious puberty. Once she sat in the TGI Fridays with me. I was busy talking to my friend, and I did not notice a man who was sitting beside her on the single's table, engaged in a conversation with mira. On the way out, the man introduced himself to me and my friend, surprised to learn that mira was actually my daughter, not my sister (god, he should try another pick up line, that's why he was still eating on the single's table) and with this earnestly awed expression , said to me, "your daughter is very intelligent. I really had a great time talking to her. And she's only 9years old!!!"...I smiled and said something for the heck of saying it, then carried on with my journey home, wondering whether, was he genuinely impressed, or is that another not as dumb as the first pick up line, or worse, was he a paedophile? Can't be to carefull nowadays. My crazy friend on the other hand, suggested I bring my child to every joint I go,as I'd probably stand a better chance of getting a man, by making my daughter woo the guys for me. She'd seen me ignore men in public hangouts and she'd given up hope with me!!

Back to the story. I was upset with the teacher who came up with an insensitive remark. It's more irritating, that she doesn't know my daughter at all, yet she could come up with such remarks. Perhaps she made the mistake of using her orphan status to gain pity in her past, but why generalise? She had no right saying something to someone she hardly knew, decided on what that person's dead father would say to her for merely not completing her homework, leaving a child, more devastated by reminding her she's fatherless, rather than not completing her homework. Leave the dead, dead. She had no right to decide what my late hubby would say to my daughter when she failed to finish her homework. Imagine what she'd say to my daughter should she fail Bahasa Malaysia!!! A bigot!! That's what she is. And it is worrying that she's a teacher!!! Can you imagine the impact on our education system, employing these type of teachers with these set of mentality.

Don't get me wrong. My daughter was absolutely wrong in not completing her homework. No excuse for that. But I told her that she need not apologise to anyone for not completing her work. Instead she should stand in front of the mirror, and apologise to herself, as what she did, or rather, did not do, was detrimental to none other that herself.

I have always brought my child up in such a way that she does not feel handicaped without a father. In fact, when she was nominated for "Anugerah Pelajar Yatim Cemerlang", I was against it. She should compete with the rest. Some kids have father, but it is as good as not having one. Why discriminate?

I showed her the certificates of achievement that I had just framed and hang them on the wall. I told her, if her father was alive today, he would be so proud of my daughter, that his heart would burst. I guess, that consoled her, and me.

It was very emotional for the both of us at that particular moment. We consoled each other, by hugging each other in silence. We know, Mira's dad lives on inside of us. No bigot so called educationist can tell us what we already know. My husband would be proud of my daughter, and me, for doing his job quite well. I plan to call the teacher up and tell her " Spank my daughter if you must, but don't remind her she's an orphan"

"The Chosen One"

I am "The Chosen One". Being "The Chosen One" (for whatever reason I was chosen and for what I am chosen for, I don't really know), I found myself getting caught for the smallest prank or mistakes. When others could get away with murder, I , on the other hand, get caught on my first wrong deed. I mean, that is why I HAVE GOT TO BE "The Chosen One" !!!!! Trust me...you don't want to be in my position, especially if you're a lawyer or politician or bureacrates, or the local friendly policeman, or some doctors come to think of it !!!

For instance, I was about 5 times late this year to my evening clinic which was suppose to commence by 2pm. You see, there is this "nurse" ( we do not have actual nurses in our clinics but those trained to become a nurse wanabes), who belong to the other doctor's crony .( oh yes...how can we blame the government for cronism, when even to the level of our work place, we practice, or rather get thrown into it. This doctor hated me even before I started working because I get 2 saturdays off in a month, and she doesn't...well boo hiphen hoo to her...too bad, I need the saturdays off more than she does, I'm young and vibrant, she's, well...menopaused....).

Now, she (the nurse wanabe) loves finding the smallest of fault and tell tale to the other doctor who sits in the morning at the same clinic, and next thing you know, the I get "THE TALK" from my Medical Director.

You know how sometimes some old ladies are, she and the doctor, they're past the ages of having any interesting topic to talk about because their lives are at a plateau,(children all grown up and hubby paying less attention to them), so they make their lives interesting by minding other people's interesting lives,talk about the ones who have no time to talk about others because they are the ones who are actually busy LIVING....come to think of it, these old farts have even run out of topic of the types of sanitary pads to purchase... This nurse should be working for the CNN or CLIA - (central lack of intelligence), or something. Besides..How come I don't get "the talk" for the rest of the working days that I was not late, that remains a mystery..I'd love to hear my boss tell me, "Dr Sharifah, you've been punctual too many a times. This makes the rest of us look bad. Could you please slow down and abide to the Malaysian Time?" ). Sigh.....

Anyway, back to the story. I was initially pissed off, I mean who wouldn't. I thought, maybe I should become the satan, so that the simplest good deed I do would be noticed and appreciated. It's hard to become an angel, you err 3 times and you get some pep talk from God....

"The patients in this clinic are all educated and fussy. Try not to be late". That was what I got from my Medical Director. Being the Chosen One, I was only angry for 3 seconds. Then I remembered the Rule. "Don't get mad, get even"...

And got even I did. I anounced today to my staff in the clinic who entertained fussy patients, " I was told that I am always late, and this is causing inconvenience to patients as well as to you. I apologised for that and I will make sure it will not occur again. I will be here by 2pm sharp to see our patients. And before I get any complaints about me going home early, I will leave at 4.30pm sharp. Please accept patients who come in even at 4.30 sharp or after that, if I am still in the premises. This is to ensure that our fussy patients are happy." And to, by then,a long faced staff (everyone is happy when the doctor leaves early, so that they get to leave earlier too. Since they complained to the boss of only my coming in late, not leaving slightly early or on time, I decided to screw their happiness. Do unto others how they have doneth unto you...), I added, " It amazes me how other doctors come in half and hour late for the past few years and did not get a single complain from our similar fussy patients, but then again, I am not the share holder" ...I am sure this piece of news is going through our CNN cable and reach the other doctor who hates me.

Today, we finished our clinic at 5pm,(oh! I can be really chatty with my patients when I want to..) and I was pretty sure I pissed my nurses off.especially the old farty nurse..Trust me. From today onwards, I shall make sure everyone leaves by 5pm at every opportunity that comes along. No more feeling sorry for them,leave early so that they could catch the bus home. Hey...they can't run back to the boss now to complain that "Dr Sharifah goes home late.."..It may risk me getting a fat bonus next year....That will cause my enemy pain..

See people, I get two birds killed with one stone.

1. I get to further improve myself as a punctual doctor.
2. I got even...

What can I say. That is why I am the Chosen One..........and you're not...