Oh.

Now that I finally know what's a memetag, I feel so dumb. Sorry Amelia, should've done it ages ago. Ah well, better late than never.

Five things I found in my bag (if I had one)
1) Wallet. Who doesn't?
2) PSP. Boredom relief.
3) Cheap-ass rudimentary mobile phone.
4) Work pass.
5) Camera (if and when I get one)

Five things I found in my wallet
1) Money, obviously. Not a lot, though.
2) ATM card, now that I work.
3) MyKad. If I ever got into trouble, this will stop me from getting into even bigger trouble.
4) Machines membership card. Not that I've bought anything there since I got my Mac.
5) Student card. For movie ticket discounts (I'm still 17, you know).

Five favourite things in my room
1) Mac. Has to take the number one spot.
2) Creative speakers. Use them for the computer and the PSP.
3) Sketchpad. Explanatory if you know me.
4) Stationary. Goes with the sketchpad.
5) Bed. Ahh...

Five things I've always wanted to do
1) Drive a car. Bet you didn't expect that, eh? Eh?
2) Make it as a designer.
3) Be on the set of Top Gear.
4) Have a really, really nice house. And a really, really nice car.
5) Visit Italy. Clichéd, I know.

Five things I'm currently into
1) Top Gear. Yeah, yeah, season's over and all, but what the hell.
2) House (the TV series, not the music genre)
3) Computer graphics. That's why I semi-regularly change the layout of this blog.
4) Photography (I so need that SLR)
5) Cars. Sorry, had to.

Five people I'm gonna tag
1) Philbert
2) Pei Hau
3) Priya (it's time you started blogging again)
4) My sister
5) Um...

That's all, I guess.

Long overdue update.

I know, I know, I've sorta abandoned blogging for a while. Work, fatigue and general lack of topics meant that this blog has been deprived of some TLC. But never mind, I'm here to show people that I am NOT dead or consumed by cashiering, and since there's really nothing else to blog about, might as well post something about work.

First things first, the working hours. And I'll be honest this time round - it sucks (no, Pei Hau, I haven't been forced to work overtime). Unlike Philbert, who has an office job and can therefore leave his workplace at six-ish, I'm stuck in a shopping mall. And unless you've never been, seen, or heard of a shopping mall, you'd know that it is customary for a shopping mall to be open by ten in the morning and to remain open until it is ten at night. But that's not all. You see, only the store closes at ten at night. The counter closes when it has dealt with all the customers. If you're stuck at a particularly busy section, like the Gents, you'll be lucky to see off the last customer by 10:15.

Of course, by that time you'd expect me to just hand in the money to my boss and leave, right? Wrong. For some reason, we are forced to count our money before handing it in. And as you've probably known, I'm not very good at maths. Fortunately, there will be other people on hand to assist you if necessary, so you'd usually be done counting no later than 10:35. Then the chief cashiers would count the money (again) and compare the total against the readings from your point-of-sale (POS) machine. You can choose to leave right after you've finished counting, or you can stay back and learn whether you've balanced or made an error. If you're willing to let yourself be hurled abuse about the errors you made while cashiering you'll only be able to return home at 10.45.

And by the way, on selected days (the period before Chinese New Year, for example), the store will extend business hours until 11:00 p.m. Go figure.

Then you get to the cashiering itself. Which, depending on where you go, varies from being overly boring to excessively tiring. The latter, especially, makes you more susceptible to errors (I've had to void nine sales once because I was so tired). But most of the people I work with are very kind and are willing to help me out of any difficult spot I manage to steer into. Never thought I'd say this but it actually makes cashiering almost enjoyable.

The pay, on the other hand, isn't. Philbert says he's being paid peanuts because his nine-to-five job pays him just RM800, but I say bollocks - my ten-to-ten (sometimes eleven) job pays me a measly RM600. As though that was bad enough, I have to pay some of it to the EPF. Thankfully, my pay also includes commission for the amount of sales. Unfortunately, though, I get just a piffling 60 sen for every RM1,000. Then again, I've seen people raking in over RM60k worth of sales a day (though I'm struggling to get past 25 grand). Also, if I buy something from Parkson (any Parkson will do, even Pavillion), 20% of the sale will be refunded back to me at the end of the month. It's a nice incentive for employees, although admittedly there is a limit of RM60 per month.

Like I said earlier, my colleagues are mostly very nice people (with the exception of that dastardly Kak Nora, who picks on the new cashiers - she put me in the almost deserted ground floor for three consecutive days!). Many thanks especially to Madam Yong, for teaching me the many intricacies of cashiering.

To sum it up, cashiering at Parkson OUG is a mixed bag. On one hand it can be very tiring and I'm not exactly well paid. On the other, the people there are some of the nicest people you'll ever meet. Plus, nothing comes close to the experience of meeting and dealing with several different people. And you know what? I actually like it.

Oh, and in case you didn't realise, I haven't got the time to put up CNY decorations on this blog. So (yes, I'm late) I'd like to make it up by wishing everyone a Happy Chinese New Year.

Have you seen that stupid new Osim ad? The one with that idiotic chair that swings from side to side (like your rotating armchair, only that this is restricted to small movements). With that annoying woman singing some shit about hai hai and bai bai.

I was stationed at a counter facing the Osim booth yesterday and they played it for fifty times before the fucking sales assistant shut the damn thing off.

The blog works again. Tee hee.

Come one, come all! The blog doesn't redirect anymore! Wheee!

Okay, I have to stop.

Anyway, today's a big day for me today. I've got a job.

Yes, I'm now a cashier at Parksons at Plaza OUG. It's a small job, really - work four days a week in a small-ish departmental store and get paid RM600 per month (I think that's what she said - MUST ASK TOMORROW).

However, there's one small problem - the working hours. I have to get there by 9:30 a.m. and can only get home at 10.30 p.m. And even then, that's if I'm able to count money quickly enough.

All in all though, it's my first job and would probably be a great experience. And like my mum said, if it doesn't kill me (unlikely, I must admit), it'll make me stronger.

So if anyone wants to come visit me, please do.

Although if you are planning to buy things and find me sitting at the counter, you should probably abandon ship.

Samad Prom '07 - Le' Enchante

I know this is nitpicking, but before I start this post I'd like to point out the mistake of the organisers of naming the prom "Le' Enchante", Now I'm sorry, but why does the "Le" have an apostrophe after it? Adding one doesn't make it any more French. I apologise. I'm anal.

Now that the ranting is done and dusted (you can open your eyes now), let me divert your attention to the single most hyped event of the year. And yes, before you write about it all over the comments page, I'm late. I needed the photos from Pei Hau.

As you'd all probably know, two days ago, a few of the outgoing Form 5 students of SMKSAS organised the Samad Prom of 2007. This is the time of the year where schoolmates come in poncy outfits (and the occasional date) to celebrate the freedom (and subsequent re-admittance to yet another educational institution) that SPM affords. However, it has to be said that most of the attendees smartened up and actually came in something half-decent, classy even - a far cry from the green, white and cyan school uniforms we've been accustomed of seeing each other in.

Oh yeah, and a lot of make-up.

Obviously, that meant the prom was a perfect opportunity to snap photos of each other.


However, the camwhoring had to stop somewhere, and soon we were ushered into the room, and we were not so pleasantly surprised by what we saw. Never, in the history of mankind, was a prom held in a room as small as the Westside room on the 8th floor of the Boulevard Hotel. Still, there was room for all of us (barely) and we all sat in our designated places. Except, there were no designated places.

Actually, it was more like the organisers screwed up the seating positions. The tables list were full of errors, including three Keishas (?!).
This minor niggle aside, the prom continued smoothly. The hosts were a bit of an acquired taste, but at least they were vaguely entertaining.

Unfortunately, barely three minutes after we had settled down, we were asked to go out again, because, as it turned out, the meal was a buffet. That said, the food was excellent. Although whoever decided to skewer the prawns with the shells intact should be taken to the back room and shot.


During the meal we were treated to a performance by local rock quadruplet One Buck Short. And frankly, I wasn't fond of it at all. To be fair, at a concert they would've blown everyone's socks off. However, this was a prom - usually the home of slower, more intimate music - and this, compounded by the minuscule room and the organisers' stupid mistake of setting the volume to a ear-splitting 548,343 dB, took the magic away from the band. But credit where it's due - at least they have some mad skills.

Sidenote: One Buck Short are finishing up their inaugural studio album, Halal and Loving it, due to be released early next year.

Then, it was time for the stand-up comedian. Oh God, the stand-up comedian.

It's a formal event, for Pete's sake. Have some class.

He began politely enough, asking us guys about our dates and all. That's where things started to take a turn for the worse.

He started to crack lewd jokes, thinking all of us would get lucky with our dates. Positions, orgasms, the lot.

Almost at that immediate moment, virtually everyone lost their appetites. Even Seng Wai's. And that's saying a lot. We're not in America, you fat, useless kumquat.

Luckily (and mercifully), the show eventually ended, and eating (and socialisation) resumed. Now, at this point, you'd think the worst is over. But no. Because next came this African rapper. Like One Buck Short, the combination of wrong music, small room and ground-shaking volume spoilt the show. That, and the fact that I dislike rap. Proud to be black, indeed.

Later, we were presented with the nominees for the prom awards, which were best-dressed male and female and the prom king and queen. However, these nominees were pre-determined by the organisers and not chosen by the crowd, reducing the entertainment factor. This also explains the kinda lop-sided list of people, which mostly featured the organisers and their friends.

As expected, the nominees for Best-Dressed Male were unveiled first. Of course, to please the crowd, the men had to do stuff requested by the crowd - Razreen half-stripped, Razman did some sort of saucy dance on one of the hosts (startling him in the process) and David Mo had to perform to his date, Jessica (initially supposed to be a song, which was changed to a rap. Eventually they decided on a dance, with David doing a sort of half-arsed slide).

Then it was the girls who had to step out and take the stage - Brigette, Erin and Tanya. Brigette, in particular, had a pretty memorable moment when we dragged Chan Wai up to the stage. They exchange rather heartfelt "I love you"s, to the amusement to the crowd.

Tanya's date, Sashi, on the other hand, had to wear a thong on his head.

After this, voting ensued and the crowd dispersed to socialise once more. That's when an unexpected guest came along.

At the door, with rather dishevelled clothes, stood Philbert Tiki Yong.

Bastard told me he wasn't coming.

So for us, plus Priya, Pei Hau and a few others, it was time for another round of picture-taking.



Oh, and those that won were Razreen (expected) and Erin (expected). As for Prom King and Queen, I didn't pay that much attention (sorry), but I think the winners were Shafiq (expected) and Heather (expected, she's the organising chairperson, after all).

Of course, a prom would never be a prom without a dance and we rushed to the stage. They didn't play slow music (oh, my poor ears...), but it was OK. I especially loved the Bhangra (screw the lightbulbs, people!).

Soon, it was time to end. We exchanged greetings and goodbyes and took even more pictures. Some of the others went to the Laundry Bar to get drunk. Philistines.

Now, at this point you might think I hated prom. That I was bored, miserable and, on top of that, alone. And you're partly wrong - I did somewhat enjoy the prom. No, really, I did.

Thing is, I paid RM100 for the ticket, and at that exorbitant price I wanted to be wowed - it was, after all, supposed to be a special event for all that attended. I was expecting something memorable, marvellous, exquisite even. I was expecting an event worthy or telling my children, for them to tell their children, and so on. Instead, it was merely average. And because of that I felt like I've wasted my money.

Okay, that's a bit harsh. Maybe "not worth the high price" is more like it. But either way, it's not one for the memory lane. And that's sad.

The benefits of 30".

I just went to Machines today to view my blog on the fantastic Apple 30" Cinema Display. Oh. My. God. I. Need. To. Have. It. In. My. Life. Though at RM6,999, best not even think of it, shall we?

Oh, yeah, here's a picture of me at the shop (yes, I want the iSight as well).

iSigh...

Argh... Not Again...

EDIT: Sorry for the picture quality - using my stupid "temporary" camera. Can't wait for my Casio to be fixed.

Oh, damn it.

My Apple Remote. I dropped it. For the 50 billionth time.

The scratches are starting to annoy me now.

Hell would freeze over before I'd be able to handle anything this small, light and shiny.

Classic example of Apple's trademark brilliant design and trademark shitty ergonomics.