Jojo and Klyie took turns to trim my fringe yesterday cos The Princess simply couldn't stand the bad job done by that stupid Infinity Salon's SOB.

To illustrate my point, look at the picture of Temenggung Jugah, the last paramount chief of all Ibans.




I will not be caught dead with my fringe down this whole month. Heck, I will put baja to make it grow faster if I can.


P/S Thanks Jo and Klyie, you did your best with what that idiot has done.

What's the odd of having an Uzbekistan guy operating a flight to Jakarta on the day Uzbekistan vs Saudi match is supposed to take place in Bung Karno Stadium in Jakarta later of the day? Unlikely enough to warrant The Princess to bring him to the stadium as he's so excited to watch his national team play - half way across the world.

Sorry for forgetting your birthday (You know I'm REALLY bad at remembering birthdays). Still, no excuses for forgetting your own sister's birthday. So here goes,

Happy Belated Birthday!

See, extra large font and in pink no less for your birthday wishes. If you squint your eyes, you can see I even decorated the words with pink, fluffy marshmallow.

I can't believe you're 23 already. It seems just yesterday you're this skinny, awkward kid and then you transformed into a pretty young lady overnight. As you spread your wings into the exciting world of young (working, I hope) adulthood, here's to wishing you plenty of courage and faith to overcome all possibilities, plenty of love to take you through moments of turbulence and of course, plenty of pink stuff to keep you happy and sane. I love you.

On a side note, Hagrid died, didn't he? It's Hagrid, isn't it? Dammit, people, I haven't read the latest Harry Potter so please stop spoiling it for me can? Yes, I know I do have the habit of jumping to the last few pages halfway through a book (I'm really impatient when it comes to suspense) but not this time.

Piang, you better not tell me the ending this time around else I will curse your PC monitor to have finger prints all over and you have to spend the rest of your life wiping them off. Muahaha *Evil grin*

Help! The Princess can't stop bobbing to this song. Can't get it out of her head.





So 70s disco-like! And look at those shape-shifting t-shirts, way C.O.O.L.
FYI, Justice is a French-duo working the Dance/Electronica field.

So everybody now, let's

Do the D.A.N.C.E.
1 2 3 4 fight
Stick to the B.E.A.T.
Get ready to ignite

You were such a P.Y.T.
Patching all the lights
Just easy as A.B.C.
That's how you make it right

P/S Should you want one of those t-shirts, check out Sold Out

I AM SO, SO VERY FULL.

Stuffed to my neck. I can't move, I can't sit, I can't breathe. Because I just had an orgasmic lunch courtesy of Joanne. That pompuan can really cook up a feast. There are only 2 of us and the dishes can feed a party. And the food. Oh, the food. So glorious.








Need I say more? Now try and tell me my gluttony is not justified.

It was one of the "at the spur of moment" thing. The Princess was cruising along Corniche with a friend of hers when he suddenly asked would she like a dhow ride? A dhow is a traditional Arab sailing vessel. All this while in the Gulf, she hasn't done anything remotely Gulf-like (except for the desert safari), so naturally she agreed. Bearing in mind she's in her sleepwear, she's probably the first person riding a dhow in pajamas.

After much bargaining (she just stood there, she's crap in bargaining), the price and duration of ride were agreed on.

And that precious 20 minutes provided a temporary escape from the maddening world. She left all the worries, commitments and shitload of problems onshore and hop onboard. Under the moonlight, the sea was full of dancing silver threads, reflected by the waves gently making their way to the shore. She took in lungfuls of the tepid air - salty and fishy. The occasional playful mudskippers were making tiny splashes across the water. The engine droned on and on like some tribal drums playing in the background. She was at peace with the world. She stopped making sense of things and just enjoyed the serene, tranquil quietness of the night as the dhow sliced through the waters of the Persian Gulf. For that short time, she slipped away from the world, watching it continue to revolve as a spectator for a change instead of playing one of the many characters. Facing the beautiful skyline of the Corniche, the dhow brought them further and further away from reality. And for that fleeting moment, she actually liked The Sandpit.

And then the dhow hit the shore and they're back to Earth. Pesky little thing, reality.

Managed to catch up with Ken Lee while The Princess was staying over in her super short KL. Decided to meet up at 7Ate9 and The Princess' sister dropped by with her BF as well. Her sis tapau-ed some pasar malam food for her. It's been ages since she last set foot in pasar malam. Rindu giler sial.

Cheese and fruits platter to go with the wine

The Princess swears one of the waitresses was hitting on them. With lame, cheesy lines. The girl's a bit of a butch but hello, do they looked like they swing the opposite way? Maybe her gaydar wasn't working properly that night.

That guy with super thick, red lips is Princess' sister's BF.
Eat your heart out, Angeline Jolie

Nicely getting a flush after only a glass or two of wine.
Memang cannot make it.

See this cute girl below? She decided to stay another 2 months in The Sandpit to accompany The Princess. Tee hee.

No lar, she's staying because of "Agung head", that bitch, not because of me.

I swear I would burn down Infinity Salon in One Utama if I could. Damn furious lor. The Princess blindly walked into this salon which is supposed to be Dry Cut but turned out another tenant has taken over. So she happily sat down and requested for wash, blow, dry and fringe trimming.

The shampoo job was horrible. So horrible she couldn't describe in words. The guy was like tugging at every single strand of her hair. And massaging the scalp with a sick face on his face, with a deluded face that thinks The Princess was actually enjoying it. It was fucking painful OK. So she sounded him off and he gave her the look.

And the fringe. That same guy cut my fringe. How can you be both the shampoo guy AND the hairstylist? See, fringe is a tricky business. Good hairstylist will make a good job but a poor one will just turn you into one of The Three Stooges. I fucking ended up like some girl from kampung OK.

Steer clear of Infinity Salon. It might just cause you infinite grieve grief.

You know what's the most irritating thing that could happen?

Being in a nice tropical island for layover, getting so exhausted from all the sightseeing and water activities, falling asleep the moment you hit the pillow and waking up at 4 in the morning and have trouble falling asleep thereafter.

That is why The Princess is blogging and drinking Bintang beer at such ungodly hour. The only consolation is breakfast starts at 6. Now if only she could patiently sit through that 2 hours before running amok in the hotel lobby.

Update:

What happened when one didn't sleep the night before, sat for 1.5 hrs in a bumpy journey up the mountain, went white water rafting for 2 hrs and fucking climbed a few hundred steps (not kidding) after that before taking another 1.5 hrs journey back to the hotel?

You ended up limper than a bunch of 60-year-olds sunbathing naked on Bali beach, that's what happened.

Happy Birthday, Angie dear.

I couldn't post up a photo because I realised, gasp, we don't have a photo together!

May whatever your heart desires come true.
May your days be filled with happiness and health.
May your life be surrounded with your loved ones ( a bit tricky now that you're in The Sandpit, but still doable).
May your metabolism sky-rocket so that you can eat whatever you want without putting on a single ounce.

P/S You know what's the best wish you can wish for? Wish that you have 10 more wishes (mustn't be greedy lar) for your disposal, unused wishes can be snowballed to next year with no expiry date (must specify this condition else rugi lar).

I came back from Tanzania to an empty house....again. Dragged the suitcase into room, took off the uniform and booted the laptop. Melancholy set in.

As I entered the kitchen, a note from my housemate was left together with a parcel.

Diana, this is nasi lemak from Angie.

I opened up the parcel to find rice, sambal ikan bilis, ayam masak merah and acar. Shortly after, Jac came up to deliver butter cake for me.

And for that fleeting moment, I am happy to find that there are still people who DO think of me once in a while.

:)

This coming August, Malaysia will celebrate her 50 years of Merdeka. 50 years of independence. We have come a long way since then. From the Japanese occupation to the British colonialization. And of course, the May 13, 1969 race riots incident which has been drilled into the heads of every students studying History since young.

Malaysia.

How I have a love-hate relationship with thee.

I hate that I have to bribe in order to pass my driving test.
I hate that some of our politicians act like a bunch of kids, talking without thinking and passing derogatory remarks.
I hate that my parents are paying taxes but how come potholes are still everywhere.
I hate our Tidak Apa attitude.
I hate that year in year out, stories of straight As students being denied scholarship or places in local universities in their subject of choice still make headlines.
I hate how the politicians kept saying "If you're not happy, then leave" thus sending most of the best brains in the country away.
I hate their thinking that by refusing to discuss social and political problems, the problem will automatically go away.
I hate why we're so forgiving on Sammy Bulu even after all those screw ups.
I hate how unsafe Malaysia has become.
I hate how we keep promoting the many races living in Malaysia in tourism promotion, when frankly, places like Britain and France are truly a melting pot of cultural differences.
I hate it when I say I'm from Malaysia, people will automatically relate ONLY Petronas Twin Tower and Truly Asia about me.
I hate the fact we spent so much money to send astronauts into space only for them to make roti canai and teh tarik in zero gravity.
I hate HSBC Malaysia for charging me the minimum payment on an outstanding debit of 45 cents (I saw the number wrongly, thus paying less) when I have been paying my bills on time.
I hate how stupid and mocking the LRT self service machines look sitting there and not functioning most of the time.

But nevertheless, I love thee with all my heart because this is the place I grow up in. My family, my friends, my childhood, my happy moments, my sad moments all belong to you. Working abroad for these past 2 years has made me realised your beauty despite your shortcomings.

And truth to be told, I'm secretly proud when people break into the Malaysia, Truly Asia jingle whenever I said I'm from Malaysia.

Of course, I still moan about you sometimes (ok, more than sometimes) but you know I have reached a new level of patriotism when I corrected someone yesterday that I'm not Chinese Malaysian, just Malaysian will do, thank you very much.

The next time I fill up form, I will make sure I put Malaysia under the Bangsa section (And risk watching the clerk processing the form looking at me like some idiot).

And while I'm still feeling particularly patriotic today (don't know why, miss home too much kut), I shall post up a series of Petronas ads commemorating our 50 years of Independence before my laziness takes over my patriotism.

The Princess was in Hong Kong to witness the celebration to mark the city's 10th anniversary of handover to China. Together with Amanda, they made a beeline to Victoria Harbour where a fireworks show was scheduled to begin at 8pm. However, they had to settle on viewing the fireworks near Sogo in Tsim Tsa Tsui as it's impossible to walk among the huge crowd of people who had gathered around that area all the way to Avenue Of Star.







At 8pm sharp, the show began. It took some time before the fireworks began to gain momentum. They even got bored in the beginning as only a few pathetic sparks could be seen at an interval of few minutes.











10 minutes later, the skies are filled with explosions of colourful lights and glittering stars. The best display was towards the end as endless fireworks bloomed one after another continuously accompanied by booming sound she thought she was going deaf.



And of course, no trip to Hong Kong will be complete without stuffing yourself silly with the wonderful food. She was craving Wanton Noodles, so they headed to a restaurant recommended by the hotel concierge - a restaurant famous for it's small portion and expensive price.




Like the many mysteries of life, how could something so simple be so good? Springy noodles in a light yet flavourful broth. Firm, crunchy giant prawns wrapped in smooth wanton skin. Nothing fancy, nothing extra but why why why?! How come it's so delicously good?

Next up is also a recommendation by the hotel concierge - steamed milk by Yee Shun Milk Company. As the name suggests, it's basically milk steamed into soft, beancurd-like tendency with assorted flavours to choose from.









I swear I could live on this shit for a month. The milk was so fresh you would have thought they were milking the cow from the udder right into the pot.

Luckily she doesn't live in Hong Kong, else she will end up like King Kong.

Hey, it rhymes! *Lame smile*

She tried. She really tried. Alas, she still gave in to temptation.

Nobody's fault, really. It was love lust at first sight. She just couldn't help looking. Blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on the soft, romantic lighting. Blame it on the electric-charged atmosphere. Blame it on her weak willpower.

Blame it on Adi Dassler.

Why oh why did you have to go and create Adidas? And then die. And collaborate with such cool people like Stella McCartney and Missy Elliot. And made her fell in to temptation.

And Amanda is not helping by urging her to just bloody get that pair of Adidas.




I mean, look at the prints. How could anyone resist?

You know what The Flying Goat Company should start instead of those "Recruit More FFPs" or "Yay, We're Flying to USA!" programs? Get Your Own Hand Cream Campaign.

I'm sick and tired of crew asking for MY hand cream everytime I whipped out that tube of cream of mine to apply. Get your own hand cream. My hand cream is expensive ok. I'm not running a charity here. Look, I'm not being stingy or anything. If I do offer you the hand cream, good, it means I like you and you're the few lucky ones who I deem worthy of that pea sized cream. But why the hell are you asking for MY hand cream (without me offering) when you have YOUR own hand cream sitting in the handbag is beyond me.

Come join The Princess in making this Get Your Own Hand Cream Campaign a success. You could start by buying YOUR own hand cream.

Moving on to happier news, Fernando Torres looks set to join Liverpool this coming season. The agreed fees is being cut from £26.5m to £21.5m. Gulp. That's a lot of money. You could buy 2 Thierry Henrys with that kind of money (Henry moved from Juventus to Arsenal for £10.5m) AND still have money to buy 125,000 Happy Meals. Or 333,333 cans of Coke. I mean, there's no guarantee he'll not be a flop. Look at the barrage of strikers joining Liverpool and became total flop. But still.....

Torres is coming! Wheeeee!