Welcome back, Robert Downey Jr

Oh Robert, I could so hump you right now.

Shazza & Rarah's guide to Krabi

Renai and I landed in Krabi Airport Friday afternoon, excited and determined to come back all bronze goddess-like. Proceeded to take a bus to Ao Nang – fare’s about 150 baht or roughly RM15 - where we were going to take a boat to Railey, for another 100 baht.

Lesson #1 – Do not assume all Thais speak English.

Bus conductor was friendly but language proved to be a barrier. Spent the hour-plus ride going, ‘Was that our stop?’ and stealing furtive glances at other tourists to see where they were getting off. Finally we got off at the stop after McDonald’s and Starbucks– yes, it’s a fishing village, but it’s not THAT ulu – and learnt

Lesson #2 – There are no jettys in Krabi.

There we were, Renai and I, with our bags and shit, wading into seawater sloshing around our hips, and straining our arms trying to keep our stuff out of the way of the impending waves, to climb onboard our boat.

But it was worth it.

So we hauled our asses past the chalets facing the beach and followed the path that led to ours. Which was when we learnt

Lesson #3 – Always google up reviews of your accomodation by other travellers, or else you may either end up staying in a dump, or at least stay near one.

We got the latter. Walked though a construction site, past a garbage dump and endured the stench wafting through our noses for a good 10 minutes before reaching Anyavee Hotel.

Which in itself is actually pretty decent. Airconditioning and hot water for two at the price of about RM170. Just try to ignore the fact that the beach directly in front of the hotel is a bloody swamp.

But if you’re on a small budget, the hotel is worth the money, I think. Railey beach is lovely, and the little cafes by the sea serve really good food. Dinner minus booze set us back by about RM25 each.

Rice portions were on the small side though. Assumed it was due to the global rice shortage, despite Thailand being the biggest exporter – until we went to another restaurant back on Ao Nang the next day to find out that the problem was limited to only that one café. Renai was not amused.

The very next morning, we hit the beach again. Thais are very friendly, and if you’re lazing on the beach, you’ll usually be courted by locals offering henna tattoos, foot scrubs and the like, most of which can be bargained for.

The safest bet would be paying about 70 percent of the asking price if you’re buying just one item or paying for just one service. Otherwise, you can try to halve the price. Unless of course, if you look terribly rich and terribly white, then I suppose you might end up getting ripped off anyway.

Then after a few drinks, we set off to find a boat to return to the mainland.

The beach in Ao Nang isn’t as beautiful, it’s like going to Port Dickson. It IS still a lovely place, with lots of little shops selling everything from knick knacks to artwork to bikinis.

The massages are lovely – RM20 for a scalp + shoulders + feet rub – but items are not exactly dirt cheap if you’re a Malaysian, maybe just slightly more affordable.

Which brings us to

Lesson #4 - You really don’t have to pack much, everything you need is in Ao Nang.

At the very last minute, a day before leaving KL, I realised I’d lost my bikini bottom. Desperate, I dropped by a shop next to Island Shop in Bangsar Village 2 to buy a bikini and a swimsuit. It would have been cheaper to buy one from a stall from the Curve, but hey I was running out of time.

When we arrived on Railey, I saw a girl wearing the same swimsuit I bought the day before. Told Ren, that girl’s Malaysian. And she says, ‘How do you know?’ So I told her about my swimsuit and said that she’d probably bought it from the same shop.

And then to my utmost horror, I saw MY swimsuit and bikini in the shops lining Ao Nang beach. Went back to check the labels – they said “MADE IN THAILAND”. My bikini cost me RM70. The Thais were selling it for RM40.

Later in the evening, the both of us decided to join a another group of Malaysians – well mostly Malaysians anyway – led by Mark. Bumped into him at the airport and it turns out he and Ren know each other. Spent the rest of the night at a bar by the beach, after waking up half of Ao Nang as we raced each other in our tuk tuks. Immature, but fun.

A ride in a tuk tuk around Ao Nang btw will cost from RM2-RM6, depending on where you want to go and how good you are at haggling. Ao Nang is tiny, so if you’re not lugging your bags around, just walk.

Drinks on the other hand are cheap, with most cocktails like Long Island averaging RM7.

The next morning, we got up early for our two-hour jungle trek and elephant ride – about RM75 each. It was pretty rushed though. Hiked in the forest for an hour, checking out MASSIVE swarms of wild bees up in the cliffs high above us, strangely shaped limestone formations and had just a preliminary peek in the caves and the bats that inhabit them.

Then it was time to ride our 40 year-old elephant, which I like to think of as Ellie. I have to say, me and Renai were so excited about the elephant ride, but when we actually saw the elephants, the feeling gave way to guilt.

I mean, these are wild and majestic and intelligent creatures, and here all they do all day, is ferry tourists around along the same route, over and over and over again. It’s just not right. And Ellie never let us forget it.

He would stop at times, just to break a twig off a tree and toss it aside moodily, or tear to shreds some plants as if to say, BORING! Worse, the guide who sat on his head, and the most evil-looking little sickle like thing – which we only noticed halfway during the ride – which he would use to yank at Ellie’s ears when he began misbehaving. At one point, Renai and I were wondering if the elephant was going to throw a tantrum, throw us off and trample us to death.

When it was finally over, we bought him some bananas as a small token of appreciation. He perked up instantly. Doesn’t he look adorable? We like to think he was happy.

After that we headed back to the beach where we took the RM100 ‘Sunset Snorkling’ package. Had the most perfect, amiable companions – a couple from New Zealand and two Canadian girls – so we had a great time.

What ruined the trip though was the disappointing view beneath the waters. I don’t know how much better it is off Phi Phi Island, but where we went, it was like an underwater graveyard. I was literally spooked and terribly sad at the same time, seeing the vast grey-ness that was below me – all the coral was dead. Whether it was due to pollution or the tsunami, I don’t know.

So that’s

Lesson #5 – Do your homework and triple check with the tour agency/guide that you ARE getting what you’re paying for.

For instance, there are pamphlets saying you can actually see sharks in the water, yet when I actually asked the people manning the desks, they all gave me a confused, if not a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look that made me want to scream, “But it says so in your brochures! Look!”

It was the beach at Poda Island that saved the trip. Quiet and more secluded, this is THE beach that made me think, “Why do I want to go back to KL again?” And to cap it all off, upon leaving the beach, we were pleasantly surprised – candles and a yummy Thai dinner greeted us onboard the boat.

So it was with heavy hearts that we left Krabi. After breakfast, we left for the airport, when it suddenly started raining. It had been sunny throughout all the four days we had been there, defying all the weather forecasts. The locals said, we must have brought the sun with us.

All in all, our trip plus our air tickets and a bit of shopping cost us about RM1,300. Renai’s already trying to book a flight back there, I suspect this time it’s going to be a one-way ticket.

Parents, the world is not amused

My sis Irene and I were browsing in Cats Whiskers in Bangsar yesterday, when this family walks in, complete with mum, sis, aunt, and baby.

I know some people would instantly coo at the sight of a child. Unfortunately for me, my hackles immediately rose when the diapered little devil waddled in. I mean, I'm sorry, I'm sure there is a use for babies, like posing with politicians who need to wow voters with a feel good factor. Or being photographed sitting in oversized boots, wearing a bear suit so moms can make a quick buck.

But they are no good in boutiques. Are you listening, you besotted parents? Single, unencumbered shoppers like me do not want to listen to your child's gurgle turn into deafening screams. We do not want to see your toddler snatching everything in sight, while you smile benignly, sighing at how adorable he/she is.

And we do not appreciate it, when the couch - which was intended for us to sit on while waiting in line for the dressing room - is being hogged by you and your little one, who is now lying down on the cushions, suckling from his milk bottle.

And while I'm at it, the kid's banned from midnight movies, restaurants and spas. Comprende? Get a babysitter, lock the child in the closet, I don't care.

This latest incident has left me so incensed and determined not to reproduce, I'm keeping this laptop on my lap for the next three hours. Apparently, if you place a laptop too close to your body, some damn power ultra magnetic waves will zap your ovaries and leave you barren.

Hah! Let my reproductive organs fry!

Then my imagination kicks into overdrive, and I see in my mind, my insides crackling and smoking from the heat of the laptop. Somewhat like bacon that's been fried too long in oil that hasn't been heated up properly, simultaneously burnt and soggy.

And then I recall stories of laptops exploding in their owners' faces.


Ok, so maybe frying my ovaries isn't such a good idea. I may lack the patience to deal with a child's id, and I may wish for sterility, but I'd like my kidneys and intestines and generally whatever's down there intact, thank you very much.

P.S. I still do not like children.

P.P.S. Thanks Reza for reminding me how much fun blogging can be.

Semangat Muhibbah Di Saluran Ceria Anda

Yesterday, we were sitting in the meeting room, discussing the headlines of the day. There was the English desk, the BM desk and the Chinese desk. And everyone's talking at once, some on topics relevant to the discussion, and others on 'Alamak esok puasa la'.

Then someone from the BM desk asks; "Eh story ayam Chinese desk tak nak ke?" He was refering to the latest brouhaha over chicken prices.

Replies the editor from the Chinese desk, "Sudah ada la. Besides, kita orang Cina ma, ayam mahal, kita makan babi sajalah!"

Raucous, good natured ribbing ensues, the subject of selecting the headlines temporarily forgotten. And my executive producer turns to me, pulls a mock serious face and says, "And this is how May 13 started."

I love my workmates. Here are some of them at the CEO of The Year 2007 dinner.

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I hate being tagged. I blame [the colour blind one]. Strange answers courtesy of Sham.

1. If I was an opposite gender, what would my party clothes be like? Nothing.

2. At 10am this morning, I was… still asleep in bed.

3. At 10pm tonight, I will be… at The Apartment in The Curve, cursing at the slow service.

4. Who should be the next Malaysian Prime Minister? Khairy. If we're all going down, we might as well go down in a grand blaze of glory.

5. If my spouse told me to do without sex for a year, I would…cry for joy and believe in God and be miraculously migraine free for the next 12 months.

6. If I was a piece of a car, I would be the… gearstick.

7. If I was told one day that I would have to give up either 1) anything chocolate OR 2) ever seeing the beach again, for the rest of my life, which one will I give up? Chocolate I suppose.

8. Singapore is good for…restraining from oral sex.

9. If I could only say 3 words before I die, what would those last words be? (To Sham) You're coming too!

10. Who would I like to be left on a deserted island? A pregnant cow.

11. Die by drowning or by fire? Any one option, as long as I can drag Sham along with me.

12. What one single thing would you buy with your last RM9.95? the fucking screen protector Sham wants!

13. If I opened a night club, what would I call it? Dancing Miaohaus.

14. Don’t cheat: what’s “bulbous”? My nose.

15. I think my ass is…a Gift from the Gods to all mankind. Only second to Chern - Best Ass'ed Tax Agent in the World!

Trippin' in Beijing

Darn has it really been more than a month since I went to Beijing? I've completely forgotten what I wanted to say. Hurhurhur..

Ehm in brief: I went to Beijing to cover a Panasonic launch, the city was sooty and grey, the Chinese do not obey traffic lights, Peking duck is delicious, Pearl Market had plastic strips hanging down their entrance ala slaughterhouse, Kunlun Hotel is beautiful, and the Forbidden City is amazing.

"You didn't buy me a screen protector?"

Tunang aku memang setan. I repeat, tunang aku memang, MEMANG setan.


He got mugged a couple of days back, walking home from the Asia Jaya LRT station. Ironically, he was walking along the main road, instead of taking the usual dimly lit short cut. Found himself surrounded by 6 young men, who took his wallet, his Ipod and his phone.

While he was at the police station, I decided to drop by Digital Mall to get him this phone.


So Leonard and I sat at Picadilly waiting for him. He arrived, started ranting about his misfortune, then his gaze fell upon the paper bag containing the phone.

I handed it over, expecting some gratitude, some 'I love you baby', and perhaps him kissing my dainty putrid lil feet.

But no.

Shamsher Singh Gill Anak Lelaki Manjit Singh Gill handled the Dopod lovingly, then creased his forehead.

He said, "Baby, you didn't buy me a screen protector ah?"

Pukimak. I am going to sulk for about an eternity or so. Bastard spawn of hell.

Lady Boys Prancing in Custard G-Strings

So I’m chanelling what just occurred to me to be the Japanese Auntie TM look. But I don’t care, I happen to think my hair is gorgeolicious.

And belated piccies of the La Mer party Pon invited me and Chern to.








On to proper blogging.

Swamped with work. I’ve been straddling two programs, which was really starting to take their toll on me. Sitting on the fence does hurt, even if you haven’t got no gonads. But I do love my job. I adore my colleagues, some less than others, truth be told. But on the whole, I’m happy.

Plus, there is always entertainment on the side, usually unexpected, always amusing. Like this delightful memo which was sent to the CEO of the company I work for and cc-ed to a selected fortunate few.

This darling deluded viewer was most displeased with us highly incompetent staff because our program came on late, 3 minutes and 12 seconds to be exact, and we had the decency not to apologise. The horror.

Imagine the poor viewer, just about peeing in his/her/its pants for a whole 3 minutes and don’t forget, 12 seconds, just WAITING for our program to come on air. And I thought that sort of dedication was usually reserved for our Lady Boys Prancing in Custard G-Strings And Humping Furniture segment.

So he/she chastised us most soundly, and gave us a good round of racial slurs. And wrapped it up by signing off, and indicating the precise time he/she had taken to scribble the artfully messy one page letter. Half an hour. That’s what I call dedicated.

Or just plain stupid.