Not like I don’t have anything else to wear, but it was already unfolded. I don’t think I’d want to spend another minute folding it. I snugged in, it feels nice, fits my back perfectly, like the way it used to.

As I lay in bed, I start to wonder what happened between us. Why was there too much hatred born from love? My thoughts unwind. Thinking about the time that passed by. I can still feel my toes, and I am no where near slumberland.

I leaned on my right, tucking my pillow securely under my arms.

It’s just a red dark collar t-shirt, what’s the fuss? But I am still touched, to think that it was actually given on my birthday, 7 years ago.

Happy Birthday Edwin.

ps: what are the odds of finding the gift that was stored away for 5 years on my birthday?

pss: I guessed I’m sentimental after all.

psss: No, I’m not hinting for a gift

“You better call P, we need to know where they are..”, I asked her to do the chore using my phone. If you’re attending a surprise birthday party, you should tippy toe your way in and be cautious not to let the birthday boy spot you.

“P, where are you?”, she asked him.

“I’m at bla bla…”  tooot …  the phone call dropped as we dove into the tunnel.

In the mixed dark and neon lights, she asked, “how do I redial?”

“That’s easy, just say RE-DIAL”. I instructed her.

“RE-DIAL!” she said it loud and clear.

I could no longer hold my breathe, I burst into laughter. I laughed so hard that I actually cried, trying to hard to hold my tummy together. I forgot how she reacted, but I do remember her full-of-shame-face. Poor girl. ily

ps: We prank each other a lot

NH: So where are we heading?
AR: You’ll see when we get there.
NH: Ah.. so this is Tasik Shah Alam. This is my first time here.
AR: Ok, catch me if you can.

Then she ran off like being chased by dogs. She’s quick, but I won’t let this man’s ego go down the drain. Afterall, sprinting is my forte. I caught up to her, although I have to reassure you, she’s no ordinary runner. Gotcha! as I tapped her shoulder.

The cycle went on for 2-3 more times around the lake.

NH: Ok, I’m out of breath and sweaty, I won’t be chasing you anymore.
AR: Come on old man, you can do this!

Again, it was the ego sentiment she toyed around. There she goes, running off leaving quite a gap between us. One quick breathe, I chased her with all my might.

AR: TOLONG! TOLONG!!

She shouted at the top of her lungs, asking for help while I was closely chasing her from behind. Everyone looked at me as if I was a molester or a flasher. I have to admit, I was pretty scared of getting beaten up by strangers. Eventually she stopped fearing for my safety.

She burst into laughter as I was still dumbfounded by the whole incident.

Alone in my room, thinking about what happened, I couldn’t help but grinning ear to ear. She’s witty and playful, reminds myself of how I used to be. But I’ll make sure someday, she’ll gets her dose of medicine. *Scheming up to something*

ps: Oh yeah, after 4 years, I’ve finally found someone who compliments me in every way

As I was strolling along my new work place (dashing from floor to floor meeting people), I couldn’t help but play with my balm. Open cap, close cap. The cycle repeats infinitely.

“Edwin, you pakai lipbalm?” a hot babe asked. I smirked. It’s the new age, everyone wants to look good. And no exception to me, plus, I’ve always been the sales oriented type of person. So looking good is a plus point.

“Pelik tengok lelaki pakai, I pon tak pakai.” she added.

“You nak sikit?” I replied.

She blushed and pretended we never had the conversation.

ps: Be careful when striking a conversation, it might hit you back.

There I was, doing 90kmh taking my sweet time over taking cars on the fastest lane. Until I saw an Orange MyVi, I slowed down. There were 2 girls inside the car and I’m not sure they’re hot or not. It was dark and obviously I had to focus on driving.

The driver’s door wasn’t properly shut, so I honked them, worrying of their safety.

I honked again. Raising my hand, trying to get some attention. She looked at me and pretended she didn’t see me.

The third time I honked, she raised her hand as if refusing to communicate. WTF?

Eventhough I am driving a souped-up Gen2 with nasty looks and peeled paints, doesn’t mean I’m trying to get girls on the road! What more while driving! Obviously I know a better technique to get a girl’s number. Shessh. Perasan gile ok!

Down-shifted and sped back to chase the traffic.

It left me puzzled for minute there. Here I am, concerned about their safety while they tried hard to refuse my good-will gesture.

It’ll probably be too late to tell her, “I told you so”, when she’s thrown out of her car.

ps: I can imagine her telling her friends, someone is trying to woo her on the road. Ko igt ko abes comel la?

pss: That’s not my car, in case you’re wondering. Bad ass pipping exhaust, good design but fail air flow.

Like most guys, my voice is deep and bassy. But when MK says my voice is romantic, it triggered me, “ini sarcasm ke compliment?”

Someone once told me, if I can’t make money making web, I should become a radio DJ. And just for her, I introduced a few songs (mostly being All-American Rejects) while we’re on Skype. “HAHAHA, sebijik macam depan Kamdar!”

ps: Checkout the link above. A review of Nokia 5800

pss: Thank God it’s still Wednesday.

On the right sidebar, I saw 1 Friend Request.

“Sape laa pulak nak jadi kawan aku ni?” I bitched about it. Hey, I bet you get similar request from someone you don’t even know! To make things worst, we don’t even have any real mutual friend. So it was me being judgmental. Still, that doesn’t stop me from exploring her profile.

Born 1984, location Johor, age 25, birthday.. bla bla bla..

Really, I don’t know this girl. I’m not comfortable befriending someone I don’t know, even on social sites. I moved the cursor to Ignore, ready to click that boxy blue button. As I was about to decline her request, I saw a particular that flashes a BIG RED STOP sign in my mind, work: Hospital.. . I reread the whole page. Oh shit! She’s a doctor!

“Nasib baik ko doctor” I said out loud while clicking Confirm. My brother turned and smirked. I’m sure in his head, he thinks his brother is one step away from insanity.

So what’s your criteria to accept a friend on Facebook?

*Solid state drive has no mechanical parts as compared to a normal hard disk. Technically, if you dropped it or roughen up a bit, it won’t break easily. While it is rugged and sturdy, it doesn’t make up the fact that it’s slow (read & writing speed) and small data capacity (8Gb).

ps: Probably not going to MTV World Stage (I don’t have any tickets. If you have extras please give it to me! In return, I’ll write wonderful stuff about you!)

Jodoh is overated.

It takes two consensual people to start a relationship. They have to like each other and explore the dark possibilities. Down the road it might be tough. That’s why you have each other, to pull each other from slumps and break the obstacles ahead.

I am discarding the Greater power on this matter. Whilst it’s true it’s up to Him, but it’s also up to us to make something happen. The only card we can play is ‘Tawakkal’, after we’ve tried our best.

Sorry is just an excuse to fail.

I know I am the better man and an alpha male. It’s only natural to find someone who’s lesser of both. I would pretty much like to be relied on and serve my purpose as a living being. And that is amongst the reason I want a doctor, a delicate soul whom I can protect when she’s on the brink of self destruct. She’d save many lives down the road, so for a change let me save hers.

I’ve been keeping my cools together for so many years. I’ve tolerated and fought countless battles. I always find myself letting others win. I am tired of being a nice guy. I want to take what’s rightfully mine, even if it means beating an old lady with a stick.

If you’re wondering whether this was written in an angry tone. Yes it was. I gave my heart and there’s no room to feel nor empathy for anyone other than myself. Selfish? Very much yes.

Am I bashing her? Now, wouldn’t it be stupid to bang someone you admire? If there’s anyone who needs a bashing, it would be me for letting myself fall deep into something I’m unsure off. For allowing me to follow my gut instinct, when it’s unsafe. For being so fucked up, that I can’t get anything done properly.

I know I am going to regret writing this. But what the hell. It’s my feelings.

ps: Welcome back NH. I missed you, very very much.

It was a heavy stream of traffic, everyone just got off work. Thankfully, Duke‘s there to save the day. I managed to send that friend and be on time for the meeting. I hate waiting for people, likewise, have people wait for me.

It was hard to push the old lady to 150kmh, somehow I got her rolling to 190kmh.

Upon arrival, I sent a text message saying how sorry I was about my driving attitude. (Not many fancy left-right-hard-braking maneuvers). The last time I did that, my ex puked all over my G2000, but that was 2 years ago.

Anyway, she replied, “Takpe, seronok naik kereta dgn you”.

“Seronok?”, pure puzzlement.

“Yup. Cepat sampai.”

WTH?

Moral: Don’t drive with your girlfriend on the passenger seat. You’ll love her less when she spills her tummy content all over your face.

In writing this post, I hope to convince the Eve party not to diet (unless obese).

Whoever give you the impression Kiera Knightley is hot? Well, neck up, she is, anything below is a walking match stick. Let’s put Scarlett Johansson into equation. I’m dead sure boys would drool over her more than Kiera.

Ok, that seems rather sexual.

Truth is, boys would prefer someone who’s normal or slightly above, BMI 23 to 26. Enough talk, let’s put this into vote.

*Only Guys can vote. Girls and Gays, stay away*

Your mama called she said that you’re down stairs crying
Feeling like such a mess
Yeah I hear you you’re in the background bawling
What happened to your sweet summertime dress

There are times you’re on the verge of hypertension, pulling your hair wouldn’t do much justice. There are times you want reach out, but you’re afraid to bring them down along. And sometimes you just want to be left alone.

I don’t know what’s up, but everyone seems like they’re in a slump, including me.

Now everyone thought a dark, cynical, wicked and carefree NH wouldn’t make this an issue. Sadly, I’m a mortal although I repeatedly tell people I’M PURE AWESOME.

You have to admit, sweeping feelings under the rug doesn’t solve anything. It’s highly likely for you to explode one day. When that day arrives, you will no longer be able to hold your punches, including to your loved ones. What a sad sight.

My advise.

• Channel it to sports. For health longevity and stress management.

I jog to release the steam packed in my head. Letting it go slowly as I widen my stride.  Occasionally I sprint and later found myself flat on the tarmac facing the dog-shaped clouds saying, “Ok, that was stupid! But sure is fun”

• Talk to a complete stranger and make new friends.

They don’t know you, so it’s less likely they’ll judge you or use it against you. Sometimes they can give views beyond your logic. And in the long run, you might make new friends. Just don’t jump to that grinning old man who’s happily staring at your fun bags.

The Don’ts.

• Don’t sit in your room watching Korean drama for 17 hours straight. Or bury your face in your manga collection. It’ll hurt your eyes.

• Don’t mull over your work or studies. You can never get rid of emotion with a layer of intellectual.

• Don’t laugh over it. Your emotion is your ego, handle them with care.

• Don’t start munching. Typical relief. Once you’re back to being you, you noticed you’re fat. When that day comes, don’t you dare complain about your flappy bat wings. You are what you eat.

• Don’t talk to close friends. They’ll probably ridiculed you or tell you get over it, worst start bitching so they can shoo you and your problems away.

If else fail, just shut up and get back to work  

ps: I don’t recommend the last step, unless you’re used to it.

pss: Listen to that Music! Introduced by SS, soundtrack of House.

psss: This post is not dedicated to anyone, so don’t blush.

pssss: I got an offer from Silicon Valley. Sent a careful rejection letter.

This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores.

This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support.

This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door. For the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway. For the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters.

For the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends. For all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated. For all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor.

This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches.

Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks.

Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever.

There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile.

For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

ps: Thought I’d share this with every soul mate searchers.

pss: Originally published for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal.

I’m the type of guy who holds strongly to my stand. “Be honest, no matter how much it’ll hurt”. Although I have to say, this isn’t an admirable logic to hang on to, it does saves me from the trouble of listening to unnecessary nag.You don’t believe me? Ok, I’ll give you some answers I’ve tried.

Girl R: Am I fat?
NoktahHitam: No-lah, ok ok only.
Girl R: Oh really? I was thinking of loosing weight. And you know with all this open house ..bla bla bla.. (I lost her there)

That’s what you get for playing safe, a big fat nag. Seriously girl, if you want to lose weight, bring bottled water to open houses. Excuse yourself from food tasting, it can be addictive.

Girl J: Do you think I’m fat?
NoktahHitam: No. You looked thinner.
Girl J: Really? I’m on this new product call XxX, it helps shave some fat while .. bla bla bla.. I also go to gym .. bla (not interested.. ok?)

That’s what you get for sucking up. I said “thinner” because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Turns out, she’s hurting mine by pushing her Multi Level products.

Girl T: Do you think I’m fat?
NoktahHitam: Yes you are.
Girl T: It’s about time I go back to gym. You see, I don’t have time after work .. bla bla .. (please, I’m not your blog)

Being honest hurts too, especially if you don’t know how to deviate the answer.

What you can do is be brutally honest. It’ll likely to stun them, or at least enough for them to change the topic. So how do I answer?

Girl Z: Do you think I’m fat?
NoktahHitam: Of course you are. You look like a cow in tights.
Girl Z: You’re mean!
NoktahHitam: Obviously. Thanks for asking.

Being me, I’m always cruel in my own ways

If you can’t answer, remember your standard 1 class banner, “Silence is Golden” or you can fake an epilepsy, just make sure there aren’t any doctors around (unless cute ones).

ps: I guess it depends on what the girl wants to hear.

pss: Girls, don’t ask boys how you look like, because we use Jessica Alba, Elisha Cuthbert and Marie Digby as our benchmark.

psss: Open houses ends this week! Horray~ I will write why I hate them.

Apparently Smaelz83 tagged me, let’s see how transparent I can be.

1. How many time have you been in love?
I’ve been in 13 relationships and fallen in love once. The L word doesn’t struck me so often.

2. 3 songs that make you remind of her?
Only 1 song that reminds me of her, Fenix TX – Tearjerker. you can listen to it in my Tape section.

3. What is the romantic thing that you do for her, or she do for you?
Is writing a song is romantic enough?

4. 3 nicknames she uses to call you?
Ewin, Emin and Min. When I was young, I spelled my name Edmin.

5. List 3 places you go with her?
Library, Malls and garden.

6. What is the best memories with her?, (picture is better)
Our second date, dinner beside the beach. I can still remember what we ordered.

7. What is her birthday, if you remember?
15th … let’s keep it a secret.

8. List gifts from her that you like?
Ferrari Black perfume and Cherry flavored Labello lipbum.

9. How you declare your love to her (man), or how you accept his love (woman)?
1st of April 2001, a long text file (I wrote using notepad).

10. How long you take to forget her?
Let’s see… never.

11. What is her physical part that you like about her?
Her lips. I like to stare her lips when she talks.

12. What is she doing right now?
Not at liberty to discuss this with you.

13. Can you accept her back if she want to?
Most definitely.

14. Have you contact her(ex) when you with your partner?
Nope.

15. Have you done something inappropriate with her(ex) before?
If shoplifting is considered as inappropriate, then yes.

16. Did you go out with her(ex), without been known by your partner?
Nope.

17. 2 things from her(ex) that you keep, without been known by your partner?
The Log book of our fights and her faulty mobile phone.

18. Do you think your relationship with her(ex) is hotter than with your partner?
I don’t really understand this question but she’s the only one who inspire and make me work hard without lifting a finger.

19. Do you hide something in your mobile phone from your partner?
I don’t care if someone were to raid my phone. I remember memorable SMS by heart.

20. Have you cheated or try to cheat your partner?
I’m very loyal.

21. Who should do this tag?
This is downright challenging so I will tag whom ever is reading this and compelled to write about it. Else, let it slip away.

ps: I wrote a completely different post before and realized, why I am sharing this infamous story with the rest of the world? So I heavily edited it

pss: People, pss is my trademark. Please use PPS if you have to

PS – post scriptum is Latin. What comes after that should be pps, post postscript or pre postscript (as some would put it). But I use pss and so forth.

I’m going to tell you why but it’ll be lengthy, so, if you hate reading a melancholy story, press Alt + F4 or Windows, U and U. Else, after the jump.

I used to correspond with a stage 4 cancer patient. I learned about her death when she stops replying. I wanted to visit her grave, but it would’ve cost me my arms and legs, maybe one day.

She’s Catholic, a lady by the book. She had no family, non that she knew of. Same year of birth and from Greece. She was witty, the kind of quality I’d admire.

She found me at TazQirah.com (which is in cesspool now). We used to argue about faith (I used the word argue because our replies were unusually in ire). We were literally pulling each other’s hair. I would’ve thrown the kitchen sink if I could.

It was the case of standing up for ones belief or trying to convert each other.

But at the end of every mail, we’d leave a ps-question and a pss-answer, stuff to cool off the topic. Questions like, ‘how’s supper?’ or ‘Did you go out today?’. Answers like, ‘the trainy doc has flawless teeth’ or ‘I hate broccolli’. It was uncanny.

Although I’ve told her the correct notation would be PPS, she insisted on using PSS. According to her, it sounded more like ‘psst’, the initial hissing sound when you want to whisper. And since we can’t whisper on mail, a PSS would suffice.

Faith fights aside, we became close friends. So close that we’d tell our dark secrets. So close that we’d pat each other’s back on bad days. So close like Xia Wei and Shu Qi in So Close.

A week passed, she hasn’t reply. I’m sure there were more than a guy corresponding with her. After all, she had the luxury of connecting to the Internet. Plus, she might be busy.

Behind that screen name, I thought she’s some bored 40-year-old man who’s stuck in the office doing some clerical work. So I couldn’t care more about her well being.

Another week passed. A month. Soon half a year. I almost forgot about her until it was time for email spring cleaning. Neatly tucked under one folder, was all her replies. My curiosity grew, so I rang the hospital and asked for her.

It took a few jumps before I could talk to right person. I was worried about the International charges actually.

“This girl is gone”, The I-Speak-Little-English lady blurtted. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”. “7 months, dead.” I hung up before I could thank the lady. So was she was real.

There were many words left unsaid, many more pss unwritten. And the one word that signifies a man, Sorry.

ps: I miss her. I missed the intellectual fight.

pss: I wrote this in 2 hours and edited in 5 hours. Yes, I’m slow. Originally, twice as long. But truncated to meet your lazy reading habit. Plus, I don’t want to waste your time reading unaccountable details.

psss: Don’t ask again, why pss, not pps?