My Daddy Gave Me A Name…

I am PMS-ing badly. I feel like I want to burst into tears every other minute. And the other “other” minutes I just feel damn depressed. Yesterday I was at MPH Midvalley and I picked up this mini-book which was like full of advice for dads who have daughters. It’s the kind of book that has only one sentence or piece of advice on every page. For example:

– Remember that she will always, always melt your heart.
– Always play ball with her, even if the ball is pink and covered with glitter.
– Dance with her. She will never be too young, or too old for that matter.
– Know that she will not be happy if you become better friends with her boyfriend than she is.
– Do not give in to the temptation to buy her everything she wants.
– Do not be worried if weird boys start showing up on your doorstep. All boys at that age look weird anyway.
– Help her to decide her intended path thru life.
– And lastly, let her go.

*blinks back tears*

I’ve always been daddy’s little girl. As a kid I used to make him pick me up, dance around the house and sing “Shall We Dance?” from The King And I. In hardware stores, I used to make him pick me up and hold me up while I pressed the entire display of doorbells and listened to them ringing. And every night at 2am, after watching my nursery rhyme video, I would go upstairs, wake him up from deep slumber and tell him I was done watching and would he please go turn off the VCR. Also, Daddy is the one who I go to if I need money:)

Of everyone in Malaysia, I think he will be the saddest one when I leave. Oh no thinking of it now makes me want to cry again. Of course, I will miss Mummy Ooi and her kind of garang way of talking to me and the way she always tries to hide(show?) her affection by forcing me to finish all the vegetables. And I will miss Brother Ooi for his weird antics (ie, falling in toilet and grabbing toilet bowl for support) and competing with him for who gets to play Gunbound first. But I dunno, for the fact that I know Daddy Ooi will be the one who will be shedding a tear for me leaving… it just makes my heart break.:(

::This entry is dedicated to the 3 Oois whom I love so much::


The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round…

Okay, everyone, whatever Jia Min says about my driving skills today, it’s not true.

I’m not mentioning names but today I kindly did someone a GIGANTIC favor by going to pay his saman for him at MPSJ. *sighs dramatically* The cons of being so sweet, kind, adorable, etc.

Anyway, for some reason, driving around I got honked at like fcuk. Can everyone please have pity and mercy for this poor tiny girl with the P sticker driving her mother’s fcuking humongous Civic, which is damn low and cannot go over speedbumps without scraping its underbelly horrendously? So I had to go pick Min up because guess what – I don’t know the way to MPSJ. I didn’t tell the person with the saman that because I wanted to jaga imej… I mean please, how can a person who has stayed in Subang Jaya for 15 years not know how to go to MPSJ? For the record, I don’t know how to go to Taipan either. Or Hsin‘s house, without memorising the directions (ie. turn left, turn right, turn right again etc).

Anyway, we made our way into USJ, weaving our way professionally thru the traffic, not on purpose mind you, but because I couldn’t make up my mind which lane to stay on. We finally reached MPSJ after doing what looked like a vaguely illegal U-turn at the traffic lights. And the goddamn MPSJ had roads which were the size of the longkang behind your house. There was no place to park except right next to the sign that said “No Parking”. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to commit a traffic offence right there in their headquarters. The traffic police/MPSJ boss would probably slap the ticket right on my windshield and bellow,”Dik, senang saja you nak bayar itu saman. You pergi naik tangga atas ke itu kaunter bayaran, lepas tu sudah selesai”.

Since I was suffering from severe hunger pangs and irritation and since Min was going to be late for class, I did the next best thing: I parked in the parking lot meant for the kakitangan. Seeing a whole bunch of what looked kakitangan MPSJ outside the entrance of the parking lot, I cleverly pressed the oil and zoomed in, hoping I looked like one of their kind. Then I quickly parked and ran upstairs with Min. After depleting my wallet of 80 bucks, we zoomed out of MPSJ and went for lunch then I sent Min to Monash.

Later in the day, I had to go pick Min up from Monash again cos she didn’t have transport. As I backed my car out of the driveway, I heard this weird grinding sound, my car started shaking then stopped. My first thought was, what did I roll over? But no, when I looked around, I realized that I drove into the gate. While it was already open. Surprisingly, noone came out to check on the damage so I quickly went off hoping that they didn’t hear. Then I parked my car at the side of the road to check the injuries. I noticed there was some neighbours standing around and thinking that they might tell my mother, I quickly went off again.

Then on the way to Monash I got honked at all they way as usual. When Min came into the car, she was listen to my sob story, naturally. And as we were driving out, who should we see but Aden, of all people. Jia Min recognised him, I don’t know how but I thought we got the wrong person. Even after I wound down the window and we started talking I still somehow thought that was the wrong person and that he’d also mistaken us for somebody else. I’ve only seen him once before ok!

Then after that while driving, I tried to keep my eyes open at all times to ensure no more honking or close calls. I kept my eyes so wide open that I didn’t notice I had been driving the entire time without letting go the handbrake. No wonder there was a suspicious squeaking, creaking kind of sound that at first I thought was part of the song on radio, then later I thought had to do with my car’s injury from hitting the gate.

No more Audrey behind the wheel for some time.

Person with the saman: You owe me 80 bucks and a lot of emotional stress.


I’ve been working on the railroad…

What the fcuk is wrong?! Why won’t my pictures show up?! Whose goddamn fault is this?! Ripway or Blogdrive? I swear I will sue. Now nobody will get to see all my hard work for the cake. Eternal damnation to whoever did this! I will spread the word! I will tell everyone I know not to use Ripway or Blogdrive! I will announce it all over Malaysia AND America. They will pay.

I was very hardworking today and cleaned my room. I took Before and After shots! But who’s going to get to see it now? Nobody. Because of fucking Ripway?Blogdrive. I mean, my room is not going to stay this way forever, right? And what’s the point of cleaning your room if noone gets to see it? As everyone who knows me can well attest to, it is not often that my room does not look like a war zone. For example, Mummy Ooi will not enter my room voluntarily anymore (I think it’s because she develops high blood pressure after that).

Jia Min once had a traumatic experience in my room. She saw a p**tiliner on the floor that freaked her out of her mind. To escape it, she jumped on my (unmade) bed… only to discover panties! (But it was clean ok, I think I must have folded it and put it on my bed before keeping it in the wardrobe). Another friend, Davina was sitting on my bed when she idly stuck her hand down the side of my bed and pulled out…. a bra! The worst part is, it wasn’t even mine! I think it was either my mother’s or my aunt’s. I probably brought it up by mistake, then put it on my bed as usual and it must have fallen down the side of it without me realizing it. And of course, let’s not forget the countless times Orang Melbourne cleaned up my room for me (grumbling all the while, naturally) because he couldn’t stand sitting in a pigsty.

Curses! I just found out that Ripway is the villain! This is the reason why I’m suffering here writing about my room, of all things. Have no fear, I will post up the pics anyway and hope that you people will get to see them someday.

B E F O R E O P E R A T I O N C L E A N U P :

::A view of the floor::

::A view of my desk:D Among other things are my Roxy bag, sticker photo notebook, stereo remote, MD player and Brother Ooi’s hairband, etc. ::

::My bed. Notice the handphone right in the middle? This is why I always lose it::

::The makeup table. Min, Hsin, Malcolm and anyone else who had to wait for me: this is why::

::Chair also doubles up as clothes hanger. Very innovative::

A F T E R O P E R A T I O N C L E A N U P :


::A clean working space is the key to success::

::My bed after its makeover. L-R:Toby, BlueFlower, Koala-with-identity-crisis, SanjayBear, YellowBear, NormalKoala, LifeguardPooh, WeizhenKangaroo, Lolo.

:: You won’t have to wait for me longer than 15 minutes anymore, I promise!::


Gunbound is sux

I’m back at the blog because for some reason, every room that I click on in Gunbound will not let me in. Either “the game in progress” or “the room too full”. I’ve noticed that the makers of Gunbound don’t have very good English either. πŸ˜› Plus, at this time, Gunbound players all seem to be Spaniards or Brazilian. Must be the time for them to be awake.

I have nothing to blog about.

Random thought of the day: I like my hair color.

Stupid act of the day: I spilled Milo on the laptop.


More on THE CAKE

I just can’t seem to shut up about the cake, as most people can testify to that. Aiyaa, don’t blame me lar, this was a major achievement for me as well as for Brother Ooi.
(ooh just used my finger to stab an insect to death – pest control of the house: that’s yours truly)

Anyway, these are the proof that I did indeed bake a cake and didnt just halfway run out to the nearest Berry’s and grab the nearest cake.

The product that took sweat, blood and tears

The product that took sweat, blood and tears (note to self: all that Mummy expanded when she gave birth to us)

Me holding sweat-blood-tears-product, looking vaguely psychotic. It’s all that hard work and stress, I tell you.

Oh that’s the recipient of the cake, looking quite hip as it is. The macho male holding a piece of Biore Pore Pack is of course, Cook No. 2, Brother Ooi.

Mummy and Daddy Ooi, holding the precious cake. Notice the cocoa powder and Kitkat used for decor? Innovative, that’s us.

My first slice of cake!! (yum)



Nursing a cough that feels like TB. And bloody hell, can’t even find my inhaler. Yes, yes, I am a scrawny asthmatic who depends on steroids to keep her alive πŸ˜›

Oh on the brighter side of things, the entire family ate The Cake. And nobody died or had to be sent to the hospital! Granted, the cake was a little on the chewy side (no thanks to Brother Ooi’s over-enthusiastic mixing) and there was no cheese smell, but overall it was F-I-N-E. Will post pics of precious cake up as soon as I figure out how to hook up the camera to the laptop.


Hot Cross Buns

The cake is done! Amidst a lot of sweat, blood and tears from me and Brother Ooi.
For people who are interested, this is the recipe (and what we managed to do with it):

1. Preheat oven to 220 degrees Celcius. Grease a 25-cm round cake tin. (Unfortunately, forgot to check temperature of oven, think it was only about 50 degrees. And the not-smart Brother Ooi told me to grease it by spreading butter all over the tin with my bare fingers. So I did.)

To prepare Sponge Cake:
1 At low speed, mix icing sugar and ground almonds in mixer. (So far so good. Brother Ooi managed to spend half an hour doing this)

2. Add eggs gradually and whip at high speed until fluffy. (Still going fine)

3. Fold in sifted flour, cocoa powder followed by melted margerine. (What the hell does fold mean? Margerine was unavailable so butter was used. Butter was melted too early on and decided to form lumps among itself. Scraped it in anyway)

4. In a separate bowl, beat egg white and castor sugar until stiff and fold into chocolate mixture. (Egg shell pieces fell into egg white, amidst lots of cussing and mass inserting of fingers into egg white bowl to retrieve them. Later realized that there were black dots in it and decided to ignore it. Egg white and castor sugar refused to stiffen no matter how much Brother Ooi’s macho arms whirled them around. F*ck it lah)

5. Put batter into a round cake tin and bake for 10 minutes. (10 minutes wasn’t enough, due to low temperature of oven – cake was still wet. Put in for another 5 minutes – then cake became consistency of brick)

6. Trim the side of the cake and place it into 23-cm round springform cake tin. (Had to use fruit knives for this due to cake’s bricklike texture. Realized in horror that cake tin wasn’t greased well enough and that cake had stuck to bottom of pan. Efforts to remove cake from pan resulted in cake breaking up into tiny crumbs. Brother Ooi cried on my shoulder)

To prepare Cheese Topping:

1. Beat cream cheese and castor sugar in mixer until light and fluffy (No problem)

2. Add lemon zest. Cream well. ( How do you cream lemon zest?)

3. Fold in whipped cream (Poured cream in. In hindsight, wonder if cream should have been whipped first – box did not say)

4. Sprinkle gelatine over water and dissolve over low heat. Stream slowly into cheese mixture (Tried to sprinkle but gelatin fell in big lump into water. Took more than 3 mins in microwave to melt. Then hardened. Also scraped into mixture)

5. Pour topping onto cake and refrigerate until set. Decorate as desired. (Not bothering to decorate)

Miscellaneous complications:
1. Halfway through, Brother Ooi abandoned ship, leaving adorable sister all alone to handle things and ran off to take a dump.
2. Daddy Ooi kept coming into kitchen to laugh at offspring’s efforts and remind offspring that the last project offspring did together (which was assembling a DIY shoe cupboard), offspring succesfully nailed doors of shoe cupboard to the back of it so now shoe cupboard has doors on its back and a covered sheet of wood on its front.

1. From outside, cake looks edible.
2. Got egg white on arm, courtesy of evil Brother Ooi
3. Have skinned and cut thumb, courtesy of I-know-not-what
4. However, was not electrocuted by blender, mixer or microwave. Very thankful and certain that animosity between me and kitchen appliances has ended. On the other hand, the battle with VCD players continues.


Jiiiive Talkin’

I’m betting that H s i n ‘s blog entry for today will be titled some song from Saturday Night Fever, am I right?:D Yes, yes, boys and girls, Saturday Night Fever-The Musical = Fantastique!

Watching Saturday Night Fever has given me the inspiration to:

1. Learn disco-dancing (take note: the 70’s type, not Atmos/trance/Melbourne Shuffle dancing) – But this might take some effort since I can’t even walk up the stairs or on a flat ground without tripping most horrendously

2. Buy and wear one of those 70’s style dresses with below-knee, extremely flair hemlines and halter/spaghetti tops

2. Start wearing heels again (Come to realize that height does not really allow not wearing them, anyway)

3. Find lover who can dance, sing, walk and hold women’s waists like Tony Manero (v. swoonworthy)

4. Take singing classes

5. Buy a discoball and hang it in room

For full synopsis of day, you can check out Hsin’s blog. She’s probably very rajinly typed everything out, unlike yours truly. But Brother Ooi is back. Which means we have a cake to bake! (For Mummy Ooi’s Mother’s Day) Besides, I have to practise my pointing-finger-up-at-sky-with-one-leg-cocked move.

AudEmo AudRubbish

Spoonful of sugar

*blows nose in vain attempt to unblock it*

As you can see (or hear), yours truly is not feeling that hot. Have been suffering from leaky/cemented nostrils, what feels like a sandpapered throat, and tearing eyes for the past few days. As such, spent whole day lying around on bed/sofa, letting out groans and cussing viruses. Also, water tastes bitter. Daddy Ooi, how could you pass this dastardly disease to your only daughter aka the light of your life aka the apple of your eye aka precious jewel etc., etc. I think you get the idea.

Currently scouting around Friendster for pics of cute guys with H s i n . Haha I know…I’m damn lifeless. But it gives me hope that there are cute guys around. Haven’t seen any in real life other than CPU guy (Power of Four: remember him?) I have this soft spot for guys with big eyes, sharp noses and messy spikes aka Japanese hair. πŸ˜€ Like what Hsin and I were saying: *gets down on knees* Dear god, please give me one of them to love and to cherish. I will sure treat him well” πŸ˜› But it’s still my principle to never message any guy online first. P a k L u n, sorry I didn’t go to your Friendster page as you suggested. πŸ˜› But I still love you as Bender!

Oh no, I just realized that I’ve somehow stopped looking at guy’s photos and am checking out girls now. Some of them are really so hot, it either makes you feel like stepped-on cow turd or turning lesbian.

He just told me that he felt “incomplete without me”. Of course my first question was, “in what way?”. The subject was quickly changed so maybe I’ll never know. But I’ve come to realize something that I’ve never wanted to admit before: that the past is the past and however much I wish for the past to return and for me to relive it, well, that’s impossible, innit? Something that I’ve always hoped for to happen is now something that I would rather not have happen. Not because I don’t want it too (I don’t quite know actually) but because it’s just too complicated. I do wonder what would it be like if something were to start again. Would the problems and differences that we used to have still be around? Or would we have changed and matured over time so things would go smoother now?

Fook, this was supposed to be a funny blog, not one for me to lament and whine and talk about teen angst or whatever it’s called. With none of this sappy shite lying around. It won’t happen again, if I can help it.

AudEmo AudNerd

Turn left, turn right?

*rubs eyes blearily* I’ve been at this for hours (ok lah maybe not hours) and I still haven’t decided what course to take in uni. My entire life depends on this decision and I can’t seem to make it! How did everyone so easily decide what they wanted to study and work as for the rest of their lives?? R u t h happily chose foodtech at RMIT, L o w C h u i Y e n is practising drilling holes in people’s teeth in Melbourne, Orang Melbourne yang lain is counting money and drawing lines for his accounts and H s i n and M i n are uh, attending tutorials and writing bio/chem reports at Monash (sorry women – still can’t pinpoint what exactly you’re studying :P)

How did any of you make those decisions that seem so nerve-wracking and scary to me? Maybe because for eg., R u t h is interested in food and Orang Melbourne does love accounts. So what do I love? My hair, seriously. And makeup. As my close friends know, my dream was always to open a hairsalon. But if I were to bring it up with Daddy and Mummy Ooi, well, there would be a nice funeral to attend. Waste of my talent, as they like to put it.

Just the other day, Brother Ooi asked me, when I was little, what did I want to be when I grew up?

I wanted to be a princess.

I thought when I grew up, I would be superbly beautiful and be tall, with fair skin and long straight black hair and look like Vivian Chow (anyone remember her from old HK serials?). Unfortunately none of anything I mentioned came true. And I thought that since I was going to be superbly beautiful and look like Vivian Chow, well naturally I would then catch the attention of some passing prince and marry him and turn into a princess that way. Other than that, I wanted to be a doctor or draw cartoons alΓ‘ Disney.

Unfortunately, I don’t think my art talent or computer skills are anywhere or will get to anywhere near what Disney or Pixar is looking for, neither do I think that the fact that I feel faint at the sight of blood is going to change anytime soon. So I turn to other options. Having been in the science stream my whole life, I’ve decided not to touch the sciences ever again. So that rules out pharmacy, engineering, dentistry and whatnot. Then I thought I would go all artsy-fartsy and intellectual and take philosophy (Oh Socrates, Aristotle and Homer Simpson!). But what am I going to do with a degree in philosophy?? Name me one occupation other than lecturing and I’ll kiss your feet.

Can anyone help me out here??

Things I like:
1. Hairstyling
2. Makeup
3. Making people laugh
4. Talking to people
5. Taking photos (of myself or other people)

I could be a comedian who styles the hair and makeup of her audience then takes photos of everyone to send to their grandkids/neighbours/snooty colleagues.