Category Archives: Yuck
Since I am UNABLE to tell anyone just what a kerfuffle I got myself into on Sunday… allow me to attempt to amuse you with what happened TODAY.
I am just so SICK and FED UP of being involved in accidents. Of ALL the accidents that happened to me, it ALWAYS ends up with people knocking into my poor little old car. Dear Universe, when I was asking to be knocked up to satisfy my maternal yearnings, this was NOT what I wanted! *huff.
Went down to my local car dealer to check out prices and models of cars. Ah, a happy zippy and spacious SUV! AHA, I thought, this could be IT! This could be LOVE! I sung to myself happily.
Got in the car. Checked it out. Asked the salesperson the toughies questions. Played around the boot. WOO USB and Bluetooth port! OK FOCUS. WOO hello sexy cup holders. OK FOCUS. Woo hello space!
In short : It’s a start. And I can already see me in it.
Salesperson : OK Miss Mei. So let us book the right time for you, because I am sure you would want to bring your husband here to test drive the car too …
To which I suddenly went so high-pitched, Lassie would’ve died.
Me : OH! Er. Well! No husband! No! I’m not married! Only me and myself! And my cats! No kids!
Salesperson : So sorry Miss Mei.
Fine. Apology accepted. Moving on. Hmm. Maybe the SUV is TOO family-like… I thought. Though I could really really do with a spacious boot [to dump the bodies of all the useless jerks who made me invest feelings in them before I find out that they’re attached…. BUT THAT’S FOR ANOTHER DAY!] ….
And then I saw her. The coupe.
The SEXY SEXY coupe.
Sure she has a long and wide ass. Sure it’s a 2+ 3 anorexic model seater …. SURE it’s a mid-life crisis car… BUT HOT DAMN I LOVE HER.
THE LINES. The sleek body. OH THE LINES.
I formed driving plans in my head. I will drive down to Singapore at 1am, banging this baby at 160km/h … and drive up north…. maybe up and down some winding roads to get a good feel of her …
If I sound like a man salivating and dreaming of sex with Natalie Portman, you are probably right.
I got into the driver’s seat. Felt the leather encase me. At once, I couldn’t wait to see how she’d handle me slapping her wet and wild on the roads up to Genting.
Again, sorry. I sometimes think I am a man stuck in the body of a girl.
As I was forming great driving plans … the other sales assistant slid up to me :
Salesperson 2 : So, no kids?
Me : NO. NO KIDS. NOT MARRIED. NO NO NO. *Whiiiineeeee Lassie pitch WHIIINEEEEEEEE
Salesperson 2 : So you’re not married? Why not?
Me : Uhm. Because I scare all the men away? [someone said I should’ve answered “Because I killed my last husband”] …. OH LOOK THIS IS MY MIDLIFE CRISIS CAR ALTHOUGH I HAVE YET TO HIT 30 OH WHAT COLOUR DOES THIS COME IN WOW SO PRETTY WEE
I think I got a little too loud and over-defensive that the first salesguy said I can come back and test drive the coupe. WITH NO OBLIGATIONS.
I am a happy girl indeedy.
And I still don’t get why a single lady can’t just waltz into a car dealership to buy her own car? Tsk.
If you haven’t read this article by Clancy Martin of Details magazine, please click here.
I have a few minor problems with the article. Namely the fact that *I* did not get any hook-ups AT ALL during my 9 weeks of Teacher Training. Nope, I didn’t make out with anyone, never held hands, and I do not recall following a man with “perfect, rippling muscles” back to his room.
Instead, I found myself either :
– memorising dialogue like a loon
– doing yoga poses in the hallway of the Las Vegas Hilton with my groupmates [at 12am, nonetheless]
– doing bodily functions
Apparently the advanced seminar had “libidinal energy” pulsating throughout the resort during the Fall 2010 Advanced / TT. I think she has confused great yoga energy with sexual energy. Sure your Kundalinis open and what not, but if ANYONE has the energy to even last through the whole day AND return back to the room for some BoomBoomBangBang, you have my TOTAL respect.
I mean, sure I felt like I wanted to get laid, but even the mere thought of having sex was tiring enough. Seriously. I’d rather sleep than rub privates with someone else.
And “hundreds of gorgeous, fit women everywhere” ? Let me tell you a story of how I gained 6kgs during training, acne flared up and Bikram confused me for a boy [and this happened to a majority of my friends, the weight-gain part, not the “boy” part]. The end. The AVERAGE age of trainees at my TT was 40. The youngest was 18, the eldest 60-over. Gorgeous and Fit? Definitely. But not in the sexual snide undertones that the writer had in mind.
Maybe I should get my money back since I did not hook-up at all during my 9-weeks in Sin City. *sadface pout*
What a start to November.
First, I get a serious eczema outbreak all over my arms, legs, neck and torso. Everyone thinks I have some sort of fungal outbreak [IT IS NOT CONTAGIOUS] and EVERY. ONE has been telling me not to scratch. I cannot tell you this enough – it is almost like telling the sun not to shine or the earth to stop spinning on its axis. I have eczema, I will scratch and IT FEELS SO DAMN GOOD WHEN I DO SO. Then suffer later and start crying about how much of a leper I look.
Secondly – sciatica. Or a pulled muscle / tendon / thingajigbobfunk in my hip / pelvis. I can’t bend forward, can’t kick up my right leg in Standing Bow and Head to Knee hurts. It hurts when I sit down, and after I sit down I can’t get up and I can’t sit down for too long a time because “something funny” will go on in my left hip joint / girdle. My boyfriend felt sorry for me that he got me cake. Yay! Cake!
Thirdly – an accident. Just as a friend got into my car as I’m about to drive off … this …
MOTHERFUCKER taxi driver reverses his car … into my passenger door.
My first reaction was “oh, I think it should be ok. My car’s continental and his is local … La la la!”. When I got out … There was a dent and a scratch. My door could not close properly as well 😦 I leaned on my friend’s shoulder and was about to cry. Then I realized … That mofo REVERSED INTO me.
I got mad.
Really really mad.
A red cloud overtook my vision, my hands were balled up into fists.
“Did you not see my car?!” I yelled at him in (horribly mangled cantonese), my voice betraying how I really wanted to punch him and may he get VD.
Cab driver began talking in Cantonese. I was too angry and shocked to comprehend what was being said, so I turned to said friend and asked, “What the FUCK is he saying. I do not fucking understand”.
Lucky for me, my friend did the translating and cab driver agreed to meet back at 3:30pm to assess the damage (he had a passenger, friend and I had errands to run).
Thankfully I met with an accident with an honest person because not only did the cab driver agreed to come back, we went to the workshop and he agreed to pay the cost of the repair. Thank you universe 🙂
They say all things happen for a reason. Still trying to find the reason for all bad things happening right now … And hoping that this will lead to bigger and better things.
Some excerpts from my bitchtastic rant that my poor friend had to endure :
“You will shut up and let me rant, because I said so. If you disagree, shut up as well”.
“Its not your fault. It’s the driver’s fault. Actually, it’s your neighbour’s fault for calling a cab.”
“Your neighbours are a bunch of bachelors? Good. Because I will send over a STD-riddled whore so they will all get herpes”.
While scrolling through my Tweetstream yesterday … this came up :
@ninieahmad BANNED from #projectalpha on Astro as she’s a Malay yoga teacher.
Quick background for my non-Malaysian blog readers :
@ninieahmad : Famous yoga teacher in Malaysia. Sponsored by Adidas and Stella McCartney. Link to her blog here
#projectalpha : Reality TV based programme of sorts about bloggers and their lives
Astro : Cable TV network
Malaysia : In a sum, consists of 3 major races – Malays, Chinese and Indian
WHY was she banned? Was it because she’s MALAY [and hence, a MUSLIM]? After last year’s fatwa [decree] on Muslims being BANNED from yoga [which incidentally, has been lifted but I have since blogged about it here], there has been furor, uproar and confusion on the whole of Malaysia as to whether Muslims can do yoga.
To me, yoga is a form of exercise. Again, I am speaking from my point of being a certified Bikram Yoga teacher, so my comments and opinions based herewith cannot be compared with say, an Iyengar teacher who has had a different method of training / schooling. I have been practicing Bikram Yoga for 2.5 years and teaching it full-time for 6 months, and if the Malaysian Fatwa council has deemed yoga as being religious,I cannot fully comment on this matter as I am not a Muslim nor do I profess to have fully read and understood the Qu’ran.
However, I can say with absolute certainty and confidence that Yoga is NOT a religious experience. It is an experience allright, but it’s more of an exercise. Never before have I seen people of different backgrounds, races, creeds and nationalities together, in ONE room, for 90 minutes, staying absolutely silent and bending, twisting, compressing and sweating [some more profusely than others!]. And the sight after class absolutely warms my heart. Everyone sitting around, joking, saying ‘hellos’ or ‘goodbyes’ and doing some catching up, and the occasional banter / tirade / questions that come my way.
Hmm. Come to think of it, maybe Yoga really IS religious. See Exhibits below :
#1 : Oh God Mei, the room was so hot / humid!
#2 : Oh GOD Mei, I can’t get my knee locked / suck my stomach in! [precisely how I was when I first started]
#3 : Oh GOD is she ever going to get us out of [insert posture] ?! I can tell by the looks on your face. Seriously 😉
Jokes aside, it really seems to me that it is really a lack of understanding and tolerance that has led to this fiasco. Already Malaysia is dealing with brain drain of young professionals to other countries, international headlines of us sentencing a woman to whipping for drinking beer and RM8billion [US$3billion] of our taxpayers money going to build a new national palace, when our current national palace is PERFECTLY FINE.
Some days I truly wonder WHY I bothered coming back to a country that already feels alien to me. If doing what I like in my country may soon result me in being banned due to some preexisting fear / judgement, why the hell should I even pay tax and be treated like dirt?
If my job allows me to travel the world, than travel I shall. Perhaps I will settle down eventually, in the future, somewhere where I will not feel alienated and ostracized just because I am doing what I love.
Very dramatic title, but that’s how I roll. Drama!
Sooo, I fell down. On concrete. Whoop de doo!
My problems began on Wednesday right after I fell down. It started getting uncomfortable standing / sitting for long periods. On Thursday my hip / pelvis / groin started swelling. On Friday a great big RASH appeared on the area of swelling, which I attributed to a food allergy, but the damn rash didn’t go away even after I applied anti-rash powder on it religiously like a zealot possessed. On Saturday my hips started clicking when I walk. My femur bone hurts, my lower back hurts, and if I were to push my hips forward my whole leg goes numb. On Sunday I couldn’t even walk, watching Toy Story 3 brought tears to my eyes [in part due to the movie and my damn hip].
I know, I should’ve immediately checked myself in to the Sports Clinic, but I had to teach. Yah, I know, it’s not about me, it’s about my students. In fact, I had some newbies and demonstrating a locked knee and bending forward just pretty much hurt like a bitch on steroids.
That was it. I am going to see a hip doctor. If there ever is such a thing! [Shakira’s Hip’s Don’t Lie is playing in my head now!]
Booked my appointment with the “Hip Specialist”, but as the next slot was at 2:15pm I decided to see an orthopaedic surgeon at the private hospital just 15minutes from where I live.
La di da, booked myself in for a 1040am consultation. So I registered myself, proceeded to get my details in order “WOW you’ve been a patient here since… 1986!” and happily plonked myself in the corner. A few minutes later, the nurse sheepishly tells me that the surgeon is in surgery. WHAT? I booked my appointment and she tells me that the surgeon is in surgery?! Why bother with a booking?! At this point I figured I had better luck getting knocked over by a bullock cart than seeing a surgeon. OK. Chill the fuck out. Out came my feminine wiles [it’s deeply hidden under my macho manly exterior]
M* Uh, so, no possible doctor? I came all the way, and I have been in PAIN since Thursday, please could you get me another doctor? *SMILING through cracked lips
Nurse : Ok Madam [MADAM? WHAT THE EFF? I AM 24 25 24! ROAR!] … do you want to see a Chinese or Indian doctor?
M* : … I. Don’t. Care. Chinese, Indian, Malay, orang putih [Literal : White Man, Caucasian] … I just want to see a doctor. Preferably NOW. I don’t want to come back at 1pm. Please. I’m not fussy. Man, Woman, as long as the person is qualified, I don’t care.
Nurse : *dials away.
HISS. 1Malaysia my ass.
After getting a substitute doctor, hobbled my way down to the 2nd floor… to see… the… Gastroendologist. WTF? Apparently she got the room wrong. Sigh. Hobbled to the next clinic, the ORTHOPAEDIC doctor. Honestly, I didn’t feel bothered one bit, I was just amused! I said my hip hurts and she refers me to a digestion doctor! LOL.
FINALLY, I get to see the doctor. A Dato’ [kinda like a Lord of some sort, we’re absolutely crazy about giving people titles here] Doctor with a bad hair dye job and by bad, I mean, seriously, I know you’re 60+ but please embrace your salt and pepper hair and not resemble a wretched politician at that.
After much prodding and examination [the rash surprised him], off he sent me for an XRay and MRI. WOOO! I get to pretend that I am in an episode of House / Grey’s Anatomy! BRING ON DR. KAREV AND DR. CHASE. Ahem. Except this is real life and there are no hot doctors / radiologists. In fact, I was the YOUNGEST patient in the orthopaedic room. Yes, I even tried LOOKING for a hot doctor or intern. NONE, I TELL YOU, NONE. What? I know I’m sick, but can’t I just amuse myself? :p
Before I got my xray done came the usual barrage of “Are you pregnant / Do you suspect you may be pregnant?” questions. Again, I found it hilarious that the attending had to pull me to one corner and ask me [before he got too embarrassed to continue the line of questioning and got a female nurse to help me out].
Nurse : So you’re single? Not married? And 25?
M* : Yes.
Nurse : Have you had SI before?
M* : What’s SI? You mean, STI?
Nurse : Er, no no, SI … *whisper Sexual Intercourse.
At this point I had to surpress a giggle and a laugh, though I’m sure the attending and nurses thought I was crazy.
Got my xray done [JESUS THE ROOM IS COLD], and since my MRI was scheduled in 2hours’ time, I decided to hobble around the hospital to look for food. And my hobble, I literally mean, HOBBLE. I must say, the curry noodles at SDMC is pretty awesome! Coupled with chocolate milk I was in absolute bliss. Hobbled back to Imaging and waited. And waited. And waited. While watching.. XMEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE !!!! Oooh Hugh Jackman… the only decent looking person I’ve seen the whole day and he came in a small little black box, not exactly the package I was looking for 😉
Did my MRI and slept through the process. If you’ve ever done an MRI, it’s actually quite … noisy. When the magnets are being fired up it sounds and feels like I’m in a pod [woo Dollhouse!] and someone’s banging on plastic bucket repeatedly. When the images are being taken it almost sounds like the middle C, D, F, B note being blanged on repeatedly [in that order].
After my report was done [it was already 3:35pm by then …] I hobbled back up to see the surgeon, who is supposed to leave at 4pm! ROAR! I made it a fast hobble [think Frodo the Hobbit hobbling like his feet became dainty little size 5s] … JUST IN TIME!
Diagnosis : Hematoma [blood clot / bruise] on my groin/pelvis, around the size of my palm. Not a torn ligament / tendon, thank kitties and ponies.
Prescription : Acroxia 120mg [the same stuff they use to manage osteoarthritis / rheumatoid arthritis / gout pain]
Treatment : Rest, don’t aggravate the area, or I’ll have to go for surgery to drain the blood out. YEEECK!!!!
As for now, more rest is in order along with lovely episodes of True Blood and Dollhouse [OK OK I’ll get a book to read!].
I guess this had to happen before I knew how to take a fucking chillpill the size of China and… REST. 😉
My return to the hot room should prove interesting, disgusting foul medication aside.
This week has sort of turned out to be the weirdest one I’ve ever lived. Wonder what the universe is trying to tell me.
Monday my heart did backflips, backward bends and [HOLY HELL] 600 jumping jacks when I found out my privacy was compromised. I felt claustrophobic, like I COULD NOT breathe [don’t tell me to do breathing exercises – I did, and wanted to DIE after doing 3 sets of Pranayama breathing]. I suppose the wanting to die feeling was due to doing THREE sets of Pranayama, and not because of the situation. Hmm…
Friday I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee after teaching the 815pm. Lovely Pickway gave me a bottle of pepper spray cause she owes me one [heh]. Random dude approaches us and tells us how he pepper spray’d his dog and it died. or something equally horrid. Random Dude proceeds to ask us “Why are you giving her [me] pepper spray?” to which I replied “It’s a birthday present” whilst calculating how much do I have left in my bank to survive AFTER I pepper spray this weirdo and figuring out how to push him down the stairs.
This morning absolutely takes the cake. Popped my Lady GaGa CD out and turned the radio on [until Justin Beaver, or Bieber, or whatever her name is OFF the airwaves I’m listening to Lady GaGa!], grooved to Alejandro for a bit before switching to my favourite channel. Lo and behold, Alejandro was on again!
Weird. Weird. Weird.
I think it’s time to sit and home and grow mouldy.
… or when you’re travelling down the river the boats will diverge and your ass will split into two.
That was one of the most valuable lessons I learnt in Bikram Yoga Teacher Training. That and when you even “think of cheating, you’re cheating your own soul and hurting it”.
I also learnt self-respect and self-love. As someone who struggled with confidence and esteem issues, it felt very empowering to go up in front of 310 people [including Bikram!] and teach 3 demonstrators Ardha-Chandrasana [“Arms over your head sideways, interlock the fingers, release the index finger, thumbs crossed……COME DOWN AND PUSH, AND PUSH, AND PUSH”]. I can ONLY respect myself and treat myself the way I want to be treated, or, how else are my students going to respect me?
As I woke up this morning at 4.44am [I can only sleep for 5 hours a night now… thanks Boss!], I realised that my WHOLE life, right before TT, I was being a doormat for SO MANY PEOPLE. You feel like crap, had a bad day at work/uni? It’s okay, please hurl abusive remarks my way and I’ll be cool with it – although I did not react, I would still think about the hurtful words said and let it fester in my mind, like seeds of a rotten plant taking hold in my head.
Those days are now way behind me.
It’s NOT OK to walk on over me just because you need to make yourself feel better about what a sorry state you are.
I’ve also learnt how not to rest on my laurels and just.. get up on do it! THAT’S the aim of self-realisation- you are worth more than you think you are. Afterall, what’s the most valuable thing in life? “YOUR life, you idiots!” Boss would yell at us, every. single. time.
So enough with all the bullshit I’ve been living with for the past 24 years of my life. Time to start afresh and anew. Afterall, 2010 is only a few days away 🙂
This story will probably see a particular friend rolling all over the floor laughing his ass off. You know who you are!!!
Called my mobile service provider (DiGi) this evening to suspend my line while I am away in Vegas. After waiting, and waiting, and waiting, going through the INSANE voice commands and THEN waiting some more for a human to pick up.
Ah, after I get through, this customer service drone says :
“Good evening, my name is so-and-so, how may I help you sir?”
My voice isn’t THAT low, and while I know my hair is short, that person can’t see it over the phone.
If I’m not mucking at home after Yoga, I’m at home trying to :
– muck around the css of Yogameiniac [and killed a kitty in the process]
– pack my bag to Vegas
– Unpack the boxes of stuff from house renovation and shove it into my closet. Or luggage.
all at the same time. Eek!
So I basically killed the CSS on my blog [sigh]. Searched my contact list and there were NO GEEKS online! Ack!
Till finally, one showed up. *grovels on floor
[21:40] FoOie: You WHAT?
[21:40] (@) Mei*: fret not, i killed a kitten on my blog
[21:41] (@) Mei*: in other words, the css and widget-ry is squeezing me dry
[21:41] (@) Mei*: fuck, no geeks are online so i can bother them.
[21:41] FoOie: Oh okay.. Haha I guess u wouldn’t be so calm if u really did kill a kitten
[21:41] (@) Mei*: even geeks have a social life. *stabs self
[21:41] (@) Mei*: if i did i’d be sobbing i think
[21:42] (@) Mei*: so uh, don’t think you’d want to help me while you’re on mobile web
[21:42] FoOie: What social life lol. I’m heading home on a fri night, lugging a 4kg boardgame with me
[21:42] (@) Mei*: but you bought something
[21:42] FoOie: I can’t help much on mobile web
[21:42] (@) Mei*: i sat in front of the computer figuring out how i killed kitty and at the same time trying to shove clothes into my luggage
[21:42] (@) Mei*: yeah so no sweat
[21:43] FoOie: Which u do all the time
[21:43] (@) Mei*: … no.
[21:43] (@) Mei*: that is a lie.
[21:43] (@) Mei*: *obama voice* that is not true.
Sigh. You know you’re in trouble when even the resident wordpress geek says that I spend all my Fridays doing geeky / yoga-dorky stuff. I swear I’m 24 going on to 42.
Now excuse me while I muck around the CSS one more time before I squeeze Edward kitty till his eyes pop out.
Been staying online, googling and searching and STALKING travel sites and airline sites for the BEST deal for KUL-LAS [that’s airline speak for Kuala Lumpur – Las Vegas].
EVA air (run by Taiwan) has a pretty good deal! Though my transit from LAX [that’s Los Angeles] to LAS is TEN freaking hours. Can’t imagine dragging my bags with me to the loo, and draping myself over my bags to protect them from theft. No, I am not going to fork out US$110 for a room, because I’m that much of a cheapskate. And THEN the whole shebang of getting a connecting flight [So far the best deal is Southwest, but I may be wrong…].
Air China (run by China) is also pretty freaking awesomely priced, but The Boyfriend, whose client is an airline corporation, declared that Air China is spotty and dodgy and insisted that I don’t take Air China *whimper [But BABY, I’m on a BUDGET. BARJET!]. Not to mention the route is pretty damn crappy – KUL – Beijing – San Fran [overnight transit] – Vegas. My GOD I will be so wasted and bent like a scallop when I arrive in Vegas onto Michelle’s doorstep [THANK YOU THANK YOU! I will name my first child regardless of gender after you!]
Korean Air has the route of all, KUL – Korea – LAS, barring a 13 hour stopover in Korea. [Is it time to start watching Korean dramas?]. The best part is that Korea has a rather awesome looking airport hotel that’s decently priced too. The drawback? It is RM800 [around US$300] more expensive than EVA air.
And I’m sure by now everyone of you know that I’ve got a rather sharp tongue / quick wit / lack of brain-tongue filter, so I’ve blurted out things straying in my head [that were supposed to STAY THERE] and getting looks of disgust, horror, or both. Or the occasional “What the HELL Mei!!”. OK, must control filter. So my well-travelled aunt and uncle were quick to tell me that “When at border control at the US, just answer, “Yes”, “No” and straightforward. Don’t need to elaborate so much. AND HOLD THAT TONGUE OF YOURS!”. They’re British, holding a British passport [plus my uncle is Caucasian!], so I was very surprised to learn that they were given a little heckling at border control.
Uncle Michael entertained us with a few gems that night, telling us how he was writing the speech for my cousin’s wedding, with his eldest daughter, Emily, saying, “Just use some adjectives to talk about Alex, dad! It’s EASY.” “Well, does ‘Wanker’ qualify as an adjective?”
Gotta love British humour.
p.s : I really can’t believe it. I’m closer to getting to Teacher Training. The universe really does let things fall gently in to place. All you gotta do is HAVE FAITH!