chaka chaka

can i go home now?

My name is Jonas

Over coffee I found out an old friend got married. And, acting accordingly to the Gen Y guidebook, I searched for him on Facebook. Just to see some happy wedding photos. But, he wasn’t on my list.

“Did he delete his account?”

Of course not. He deleted me.

Now there’s no denying we weren’t the best of buddies in the recent years. Our most recent meeting was at Tiesto. Was it last year? The year before that?

But you know what? We were good friends for a good long time. We were part of a default hangout bunch. We’ve had mamak sessions till the wee hours of the morning. We skipped school and almost missed some SPM exams together. Went to college together. Drank Saheep and Thai Song together. We attended punk gigs and video game orchestras. Memorised the words to every song on Weezer’s Blue Album.

So, really, what the fuck.

It’s not even about Facebook.

It’s about signing a “Do Not Resuscitate” form without telling me. Of course I knew our friendship was in stasis. Did I think it was brain dead and time to smother it with a pillow? Judging from how hurt I felt, I guess I didn’t.

I didn’t have to attend your wedding. I didn’t even need you to personally let me know. I would have just been happy to send an annoying one-word, all-caps SMS to congratulate you. If you would have let me.

Your girlfriend (now wife) gave me the tired “I’ve heard so much about you” when we first met. How funny that I remember that.

Give me your best shrug or sheepish grin. I doubt anything you do now could pain me more.

silver vine is crack for cats

disturbing, yet terribly entertaining.

got a cat scratch board from Daiso and it came with a packet of catnip nay, silver vine. which was intriguing since none of my cats give a shit about catnip.

quickly assembled it after shoving manja into a room. what? i’m not giving hallucinogenic stuff to my “kid”.

this is peggy. peggy should take some. she was a bit depressed so, why not?

this is her usual unfriendly, body language screaming “get away from me” self.

ooh the stuff is working.

5 minutes later, she’s rolling all over the board and drooling over the floor.

15 minutes later, she goes mad and rips the board to shreds. so i chuck the pieces out the door and give her some time to recuperate. (later she started walking around in slow motion. how fun is that?)

then timmy comes along and makes love to the board as well.

…followed by the stray kitten my brother periodically feeds.

experiment successful! looks like all cats are just totally fucked the moment the get a whiff of the stuff. now stray cats are caterwauling (heh) outside and i wonder if it’s my fault. meh.

Now I give too many fucks

I used to believe, wholeheartedly I might add, that I really didn’t care what people thought of me.

Caring was “selling out”, sellouts aren’t punk rock! I raged against a system I couldn’t name. I rebelled with a cause, I just wasn’t too sure what the cause actually was.

Now, I’m so deeply ingrained in the system. I’m working on a GLC account for Pete’s sake. I care what I say on social media (most of the time). I shake my head sadly when anyone ranked Group Head and above bitches and whines in public. “How unbecoming,” I think disapprovingly.

As it turns out it’s half and half. I now only give a fuck about what people think if their opinions matter to me.

I care what JT thinks.
I care what my friends think (current circle la. I really can’t be arsed about those kikilala high school dweebs).
I care what Ravi Shan thinks.
I care what Kapil Sethi thinks.
And because I have to, to a very large extent I care what my bosses and colleagues think. About my work. Full stop.

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks!!!” *grinds teeth*

Ahh, the folly of youth. How very fucking amusing.

i went all the way to uzbekistan

and i got was this PETRONAS merdeka raya spot ;)

you’d never ever dream of going to a place like uzbekistan. yup, neither did i, but here i am.

finally giving a shit

so this is uncharacteristically feminine of me, but i’ve been worrying about maintaining my 18-year-old skin.

always been getting periodic bouts of life-crushing acne and finally found this, for lack of a better word, cute pack of acne patches.

just in case because i got suckered a month ago into buying a hada labo starter pack (face wash, toner and moisturiser) and touch wood, but there have been no breakouts so far.

am not terribly sure if it’s the product or whether it’s because i’ve been slapping myself like a moron applying it. ya, apparently there’s some girl memo that went out to the world about this face-slapping for better absorption, and i missed it. actually i missed every damn memo that went out about UV protection and eye care and makeup and conditioning and anti-aging too, but there you go.

besides, someone at FMFA still asked me for ID and thought i was 18 so there. there’s hope for me still.

’nuff said


sweet! songkran!

quinton rocks

went of for a holiday to krabi for songkran. took a video and uploaded it at the hotel (free wifi mah). a few days later. VIRAL!

p/s yes, i was on fucking flight mode so shut the fuck up.

it’s officially “viral” because yahoo said so


I’m actually more active on twitter, and more recently, path. strange. initially hated that thing. well, sort of how i initially didn’t want any apple devices.

-sheepish owner of a macbook, iPad and iPhone