chaka chaka

20/11/1987 – 10/10/2006

The blackberry craze that hit KL must be a strat planner’s/researcher’s absolute wet dream. Or nightmare. Depends on what grade they are, methinks.

Take me as your solitary dipstick subject aka one-person focus group. Not an “early adopter”, not a smartphone user, hate(d) blackberries, couldn’t give a shit about the current group trend (re: iPhone posse in the office).

Of course it started with bloggers. Which fucking campaign doesn’t ride on the blinged up coat tails of these over-hyped camwhores? Then celcom (cleverly enough) targeted the pseudo indie/elektro group and what have you klubbers by including (baby’s) ah xu. Nice one.

My little echo got a blackberry. And pressured me sweetly with the lure of FREE chat. First learning: don’t underestimate your secondary target.

Being the google freak that I am, I started researching. BIS. Blackberry compression. Push email. BB Messenger. Met ah hiong sometime between this voracious googling and a pitch to fondle his Bold. Switching back and forth between apps got me weak at the knees. Then on monday, dragged by mr music, I touched the Curve 8520 and loved that it had no balls. Sold! Second learning: a no-fucking-brainer, sell a good product.

I now have two lines: voice & texts + BIS. Why? Because Xpax has an awesome daily unlimited plan which is actually giving me 2nd thoughts about chucking the SIM. Third learning: be generous (Maxis, you kiam siap bastards).

So, this phone *ahem* device is not my life. Yet. According to my office tablemate, he hasn’t seen me put the fucking thing down since. But fuck you all, I’ve installed bb app world (not available to malaysians) so I fucking rock. I also get to chat with the lovely baby any damned time I please. How awesome is that?

Posted, of course, from my BlackBerry@ wireless device via Vodafone-Celcom Mobile, yo.

This is quite complicated. Some server communications error ocurred bla bla invalid timestamp appears and apparently the only way to fix it is by fiddling with the xmlrpc file. Ah hiong, help!

dawn went for a haircut for the first time in a year (and no, a measly trim does not a haircut make). i was having a bad day and so i begged her to take me along.

there was some sort of office bet going on that she wouldn’t dare get a mohawk-type do. HA-HA!

suck it up, bitches. a haircut that actually made her money. how awesome is that. shaved sides which can be covered by a cute bob/fringe. yeah, my design because i’m just fucking awesome that way.

our hairstylist, ray sun, is another diva. not as big a superstar as ming (who never picked up my phonecalls), but probably 10 times the stalker.

this is my new hair, which surprised no one. half the people i met probably didn’t even notice it changed again. i like shaved sides but the only problem, which i believe everyone encounters, is that i can’t fucking seem to style it the same way. it’s been 3 days now and it looks absolutely nothing like this at all. fuckmylife.

check out my eye bags. have i been working hard or what?

did my blog get so fucking boring?

Testing my wordpress email account.

Sent using a Sony Ericsson mobile phone

Testing my wordpress email account.

Sent using a Sony Ericsson mobile phone

work has been hectic. timelines have been totally fucked up. yet this week has been a nice one.

there was a dinner (after a long, torturous drive) at tamarind springs. yummy!

there was the surprise appearance of a new, old Nikon FE2. omg!

and last, but not least, there was my first kancil award. :) bronze in website category. yay!

i curi this photo from tiff.

update: i heard i acted like a complete drunken hooligan douchebag. to everyone who had the misfortune to interact with me that night, i’m so fucking sorry.

i experienced some road rage last night around midnight. maybe “rage” is too strong a word, perhapds it was more of road ire.

anyway, i was turning into my regular petrol station, waiting at the cross-junction for someone who, typical of about 80% of malaysian drivers, didn’t signal.

dah la lambat.

so, in the privacy and happy bubble of my car, i muttered, “fucking bitchass”.

after i turned, i saw him reversing his kancil and following me to the station. mmm. looking for trouble ni.

i bought my dunhills, all the while keeping an eye on his car in the counter reflection.

of course he wanted to know what i said. i was pretty astounded.

me (thinking): you actually lip-read “fucking bitchass”?

so, i told him to sod off nicely. i’m such a big girl now. all calmed the fuck down, and besides, captain bala said to not go looking for trouble.

LIES. I WANTED TO KICK HIS CAR. I WANTED TO PEPPER SPRAY HIS FACE. I HOPE HE GETS SYPHILIS IN THE FUCKING FACE. I HOPE HIS BLUE KANCIL CAX3069 THAT HASN’T BEEN WASHED FOR TWO YEARS WILL SPIT HIM OUT INTO A PIT OF ANGRY RACOONS.

my beloved whoopeewee is at the car hospital till the end of the week after i attempted a suicidal hairpin drift.

some indian call man in his selipar buruk and pajamas was on the scene in 5 minutes, forcing me to wave the perodua auto assist booklet around in the car like a tourette’s patient.

was so stunned, i called mr. music to ask him… who to call.

broke an axle, blew [another] rim and of course the tyre has gone back to the rubber plantation in the sky.

repairs have dented my wallet, but i’m surprisingly more upset that my baby got injured. yeah, i’ve developed an emotional attachment to my car. sue me.