Tag Archives: P

Keketatan Spenderku

One of the things I envy most about my abah is that he’s skinny enough to put on a skinny tie. Like this morning while we were lacing our oxfords for work. Throw in a pair of worn Chuck Taylors into his ensemble, replete with a black and blue skinny paisley tie and he’d look like Johnny Knoxville in a GQ spread. I did one final check in the mirror before walking out the door and decided that I looked, in my HUGE red and blue striped tie, like a multi-level salesperson. Peddling ‘performance-enhancing’ cock-spray.

I had my own narrow neckwear aspirations but decided that I’d look like P. Ramlee waiting for his girlfriend at Zoo Negara in Masam Masam Manis. Not that that’s a bad thing. Nevermind that he just got out of work (he’s a teacher) and it was probably sweltering. As dashing a figure he was, it just wasn’t, well, flattering.

But sartorially speaking, skinny ties, like skinny jeans, work on skinny people. Even P, who’s developed the beginnings of a promising dad-belly, just about gets away with wearing one to his hotel’s anniversary dinner. In abah’s zegna 3 button jacket nevertheless, bought at one of the Sunday bundles.

Speaking of skinny jeans. While I was at primary school, just about all the cool kids wore tight pants. Thanks to the proliferation of local bands who wanted to be Van Halen or Iron Maiden or Bon Jovi. Being an impressionable young thing, I wanted a pair too. The problem was (and always have been) that I am, well, pudgy. Not grossly obese but definitely not as tall and lanky as Sebastian Bach (Skid Row vocalist) or even Yem Bai (some local band’s bassist, I think) to warrant their pants-size preferences.

Anyway, I did my own alterations on a pair of white cotton slacks I wore to school. I was a prefect, hence the colour. It didn’t take long to stitch just the bottom part of the pants because the top is just big enough to fit my big fat hips. So I’d slip a plastic bag over my feet so the pant-leg would slide easier over them. By the time I was ready I was sweating profusely even before I got on my bike for the ride to school.

It worked like a charm as the kids gave adoring glances down the legs of my pants. True, I wouldn’t pass of as Richie Sambora in red star-spangled spandex. But at least I had a passing semblance to the fat guitarist from Utopia (Mithali Cintaku) or even Ozzy who was a little on the fatter side of the spectrum.

The bubble burst during PJ one day. We were playing rounders (a kid’s version of softball) and I’d forgotten my track bottoms. So there I was, batting in my tight white pants. I hit a scorcher and went storming to start my run, As I reached second base, my right foot slid on a wet patch and down I went into an impressive James Brown split. There was a cracking sound somewhere below and sure enough I had split my pants. Bodies were tumbling all around me in fits of laughter. Even the girls a few yards away, shooting netballs.

All of this happened during my pre-underwear era. I told myself that nobody saw. A futile attempt at consoling myself. Sure enough, my nether regions, specifically the family jewels, were coated in damp earth and fragments of grass and what must’ve been kuah keropok. This last substance scaring the shit out of me as I thought I was bleeding.

So I started to wear briefs. Big red ones that showed through my white pants that the kids would snicker at from behind as we climbed the set of stairs to class. Fuck that. I went back to going commando. Until I was at boarding school and I got embarrased by not owning any underwear to scrub while doing laudry with the other boys who looked so happy scrubbing away at their skid marks. So I got a bunch of them thingies. White Funai’s. I’m back in the fold: a happy guy with y-fronts on top of his laundry pile.

Until I saw one of them sprawled on a glass encased notice board along one of the hallways in the main school building. I knew I shouldn’t have written my name on them pesky things.

Oh, one more thing. I wear boxers now. 

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A roof that never leaks

p_house500.jpg

The P Family House

Give me a day full of honest work and a roof that never leaks, I’ll be satisfied” Head Home by Midlake.

Excitement is in the air as P&L discovers a new place to rent together for the first time as newly-weds. Granted it ain’t a Victorian Mansion but it’s enough for the both of them. A spacious lower floor with a nook under the stairs with good acoustics. It’s only big enough for maybe 2 persons of average build to be in but I tried singing a few notes of a current favourite song and it sounded like Abbey Road. The kitchen already has a platform for the new washing machine and the master bedroom features an old-school wooden air-cond unit. Like the ones we had in our old musky libraries at school. It works too.

As I stepped beyond the gates onto the cemented front lawn and into the front living space for the first time this afternoon, I was hit by a sense of timelessness. The bare floors, creaking fan and old chinese new year greetings on the wall seemed frozen in time. For a brief moment I could hear the clatter of mahjong tiles amid happy laughter and the sound of a kettle hissing with steam from water for another pot of tea.

The place is, in a word, perfect. A balcony adjoining the bedroom upstairs for early evenings and beer. A front view of old shops, back-streets and the languid Kuantan sky. A back view of Kemunting’s old JKR workmen quarters. The only small drawback being the toilets which are of the squat variety. Not a problem for P though because he is, in his own words, “a cangkung boy”.

A prayer: Let the halls of the new house be filled with happiness and the walls bear witness to love. Let the floors shiver in glee at the prospect of future little dwellers treading upon them and let the windows bring light to brighten up the occupants’ gleaming hopeful eyes.

Amin.

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The Pelamin

S-Pelamin

S and Pelamin

Well the stage upon which the thrones where the two newlyweds, P and L, will sit and receive guests had been set-up. Its nice innit. Very colourful and the very the cinta-cinta gitu. I like. I was commenting on how nice it looked to A just now and must admit that we are a little bit envious since our own pelamin was nothing like the one they’re having. Just a few drapes hung in the background and us sitting coyly in front. Apa-apa pun, we’re happy for the couple and bet that it’s going to be a beautiful wedding.

And yes, that’s S beaming brightly with the big heart-shaped flower background. She’s tripping on rice and chicken she just had for dinner…mmm flowersh …pwetty…mmm …abah shirtless with a camera… mmm …must …try …to …smile

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Kugiran Majlis Berlaga Pusat

P & L will be getting married and the bridegroom’s reception will be held this coming April Fool’s day. A band comprising of Ledge, Wan As, Idge, the bridegroom himself and I started rehearsals for a performance at the reception.

Our first rehearsal revealed a lot of glitches due to extended periods away from our instruments (musical, not reproductive). A few of the songs that were supposed to be soft and subtle sounded too loud to be played at our home which incidentally shares very close proximity to the surau. Maybe the fact that we’ll be playing in the early afternoon (probably around 2.30) will compensate. Or maybe we should play 60’s Malay A-go-go instead.

The tentative songlist (in random order, and to be shortlisted later) :

  1. Begitu Indah – Padi
  2. Cintailah Cinta – Dewa
  3. Ternyata Cinta – Padi
  4. Qasidah Cinta – Dewa
  5. Poor Misguided Fool – Starsailor
  6. The Scientist – Coldplay
  7. Mahadewi – Padi
  8. Home – Michael Buble
  9. Seperti Kekasihku – Padi
  10. Patah – Padi

The band would also be really pleased if two more members of the bridegroom’s family currently unavailable for rehearsal to join us for songs. Suitable requests will be entertained. This means the earlier you get home the more practice hours you’ll get. This means you En. Chala and Yaya.

We hope to rent the equipment for the event from a friendly local studio. The studio has an excellent band comprised of seasoned musicians from the local wedding music circuit. As they are our friends as well, we would be greatly honoured if they would help bring the house (sans surau) down.

Drop by if you happen to be in town. We’ll try our very best to accommodate.

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Kuang Weed. Try it.

It’s been raining here in Klang. A and I were trapped in a deafening blitz of light, sound and water in front of a local mall. She went goldshopping. She smiles a lot these days. Or probably that’s just because I’ve only begun to notice it more.

It’s stopped raining since and I’m listening to Mr Tambourine Man. The Byrds’, not Dylan’s.

Let’s talk about S. She’s an eating machine. Chocolate, chocolate cookies from Uncle R, porridge and ribena from Popo, Roti Canai from me. Those and her formula.

Met with P’s friends. My friends too. They’re Kuang people who drove all the way from Rawang to Shah Alam and to our home in Klang. My intention to score some weed turned into a pleasant conversation and an opportunity to indulge in guy gossip. The weed was in the end a gift and it’s good by the way.

Mikon’s back and so is exoticasyibba. She’s back in Kuching with family. Here’s a kiss coming your way.

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