The Maid

I'm sad to say that our family is still stuck with the same maid. The same maid is still, as before, hard of hearing, frequently spurts out unintelligible Malay (that even Malays don't understand), and almost burnt down our house the other day.

Here are some conversations I've had with her over the past few months.

Me: Can the flush button be taken out?

Maid: (blank look)

Me: The flush button. (Makes flushing motion)

Maid: (blank look)

Me: (Fed up) Okay, you know, for example, when you shit in the toilet bowl, after that you must press the flush button. THE FLUSH BUTTON.

Maid: (laughs)

Me: Can you take out THE FLUSH BUTTON?

Maid: Take out?! NO LAH! Why you want to take the shit out?! Dirty lah! The shit you must throw away, why you want to take it out?!

Me: …

Our maid is now known as “no-head housefly” in our household. She gets all our clothing articles mixed up. Sometimes, she places my mum’s clothes in my cardboard, and vice versa. I think it is understandable, since she is fairly new, so it is possible to get our clothings mixed up, but nothing, ABSOUTELY NOTHING, prepared me for the sight that greeted me as I opened my cardboard on a Saturday morning.

Fed up, I took the offending piece of black article all the way downstairs, and held it up in front of my maid.

Maid: (blank, puzzled look)

Me: (continues holding up the black shirt for another ten seconds)

Maid: (blank, puzzled look) Yeah, what?

Me: (sighs) Whose clothing is this?

Maid: (blank, puzzled look)

Me: This is not my clothing, why you put it in my cardboard?!

Maid: (blank, puzzled look) Not yours, then whose?

Me: (VERY CALMLY TRYING MY BEST NOT TO EXPLODE) This is YOUR OWN clothing!

Maid: (blank, puzzled stare, then takes black shirt from me) What?!! This is my shirt?!

Me: (Exasperated) Ninda, you don’t take your own shirt and put it in other people’s cardboard!!!

Maid: (continues staring at the shirt blankly)

At this moment, my aunt’s maid walks past.

Aunt’s Maid: Ninda!! THAT IS YOUR OWN SHIRT!! WHY YOU GO AND PUT IT IN HER CARDBOARD!! (shakes head)

Maid: (continues staring at the shirt blankly for five seconds, before enlightenment dawns on her face) OH YEAH, THIS IS MY SHIRT!! (smacks forehead) Sorry, sorry, I forgot, that this shirt is mine. Thank you ah.

Me: …

I thought that was bad enough. Until a few days ago, I opened my cardboard and saw the very same black shirt neatly tucked in it. When I brought the shirt to my maid, she gave me a blank stare, before asking if I wanted her to iron the shirt for me.

----||----

Maid: What do you want for lunch? Do you want chicken rice? I cook chicken rice for you okay?

Me: Okay, I want chicken rice.

Maid: Yeah, okay, I cook chicken rice…but sorry, no more chicken left.

Me: Okay, I would like to have the chicken rice without the chicken please.

Maid: How can eat chicken rice without chicken?!!

5 minutes later, the maid asks my sister the same thing.

Maid: Do you want chicken rice for lunch?

Sister: No, I don’t want.

Maid: Okay… got no more chicken left.

----||----

Me: Is there any more milk left in the fridge?

Maid: Wait, I go check.

Ten minutes later...

Maid: No more milk left.

Me: Where you find the milk?

Maid: I look in the car. The car don't have any milk. Maybe Sir brought it to the office?

----||----

tall, check! thin, check! gorgeous, check!

I swear one more time another celeb utters the words, 'LOOKS DON'T MATTER' when asked what they look for in a potential mate, I'm going to smack the fellow on his or her head. If I get the chance to, that is.

My answer to that is: YEAH, RIGHT.

Snap out of your crystal-ball illusion and wake up to reality. Who is naive enought to actually believe a celeb when he or she says that looks don't matter when looking for a potential mate? I bet an arm and a leg the very same celebs who utters those politically correct statements under the masquerade of appearing as a saintly being, will be the LAST to be seen in public with a pimply, fat and ugly boyfriend/girlfriend.

And, yet, I still heard celebs pronouncing that personality trumps all, holding their kindred spirit up like some kind of trump card.

Especially the male celebs.

Jay Chou once said that his girlfriend doesn't have to be good-looking at all, that personality matters more than her looks. Which got fans all around dissolving into a puddly goo out of admiration for the man. The common consensus is that Jay can have ANY girl he wants, which also translates to the best and prettiest among the lot. His status dictates that he is deserving, therefore he is entitled to the best and it is only right that he demands the prettiest.

My question to ALL fans out there is this: Look who he got for his girlfriend. Action truly speaks louder than words indeed. Jay Chou got attached to Patty Hou, which - surprise! surprise! - has been labelled Taiwan's No. 1 prettiest host and babe.

His rumoured ex also happens to be Taiwanese's dance goddess, Jolin Tsai, whose flawless features don't need extra mentioning in this humble space.

Looks don't matter?! Well, Mr Jay, your action speaks volumes way above the words that you spit out, to the ears of millions of endearing fans.

Why can't male celebrities be direct and just go ahead to say that looks matter when looking for a girl? In fact, it is their number one priority, and personality only acts as a sidekick to the main attraction.

What? Okay, I hear you say, it will affect the male celeb's perfect, exemplery image in their fans' minds.

Rubbish, I tell you!

For far too many times, when asked what they look for in a potential mate, female celebrities have straightforwardly come out to say that looks are their first priority when considering a potential boyfriend.

When reporters asked Jolin Tsai what a guy should do to charm her pants off, her reply was simple enough: "As long as he's handsome, it doesn't matter what methods he resorts to chase me."

Another manufactured singer from Taiwan, Rainie Yang states that her first priority when looking out for a boyfriend, would be that he must be "tall and handsome".

So, what if he's not tall and handsome, would you still give him a chance?

"Impossible," Rainie replied stoutly, "If he doesn't fulfil that basic criteria, then I wouldn't even consider him."

The thing is, human beings often look for their equals when it comes to a potential mate, regardless of whether you are talking about age, finances or looks.

This is why you often see couples with the same size and the same looks getting together. (Although a friend of mine once said that when looking for a boyfriend, you must choose one who is uglier than you, so he won't break up with you.)

As even netizens like you and me have an ideal to look up to, celebs who mostly are self-obsessed narcissists who think they are damn good-looking, obviously, expects their partner to be damn good-looking, or damn rich too.

Of course, there are exceptions - Mischa Barton, what were you thinking? - but they are mostly present in the Hollywood arena, where mis-matched couples pair up with each other, only to be butchered mercilessly by the tabloid peddlers, who never fail to make the uglier partner feel like he or she has a car crash for a face.

Since I'm touching on this topic, I might as well go out to say that males go for looks in a female, while the money remains the main attraction for the feminine species when looking for a man. And, not according to me, mind you. A recent survey done by a British publication reveals that men tend to sway towards the better-looking females when looking for a potential mate, while the fairer sex weights the worth of a man by the depth of his pockets.

There's a joke that men are like bank accounts. Without a lot of money, they don't generate much interest.

Just the other day, I perused the online gossip sites and in one article, Fahrenheit's Jiro talks about his ideal girlfriend.

In his own words, "Let me first clarify that looks don't really matter when I'm looking for a girlfriend. Most importantly, she must have a kind heart and must be able to cook well."

Who wants to bet that the next time Jiro gets caught on the streets with his girlfriend by the paparazzi, the lady whose face gets splashed all over the entertainment pages is going to turn out to be thin and pretty?

exaggerated sentimentalism

Today, getting together and breaking up is no longer an affair between two individuals. It is shared openly with the whole world. Friendster status accounts switch from ‘Attached’ to ‘Single’ as soon as a relationship goes extinct, and a relationship is consummated by denouncing to the public through your blog that your boyfriend/girlfriend is so-and-so, and you have so much love for him/her in your heart.

Very soon, lovey-dovey pictures of you and your other half kissing, holidaying and having meals together pop up all over Facebook/Friendster/MySpace.

Likewise, photos of you and your BFF are splashed all over the internet, cam-whoring with wanton abundance. Your love for your BFF is no longer shared between the both of you or a close group of friends. No way! The entire world deserves to know how close the both of us are, so much so that boyfriends can’t come in the way, because you know, boyfriends come and go, but BFFs are here to stay!

The internet is your stage, the public is your audience, and YOU are the STAR! The audience deserves to know every itty-bitty detail of your lifestyle, and the people you hang out with. They can’t wait to know how many years you have known BFF, can’t wait to hear about how you went to a holiday in Genting Highlands with your other half. No! Every salivating detail down to what you and your BFF had for dinner has to be exposed to the hungry public, feeding their ravenous appetites while you gloat over your burgeoning readership.

It’s like seeing things through a magnifying glass. Every detail of your life is protracted. Night out with your girlfriends? Quick, take photos of you and your friends gulping beer and partying on the dance floor. See? I’m now officially ‘cool’. I lead a ‘cool’ lifestyle and I have ‘cool’ friends who love me. See the girl kissing me on the right kissing me on my cheek? She’s my BFF! I HEART HER SO MUCH!

Public entertainment is no longer reserved solely for the television screens, you are your own scriptwriter, and you are the main star.

Don’t mistake me, affection is a good thing. But, when does affection turn to affectation, putting up a pretense for the entire world to see? That’s a minefield to thread. Because everything about you and your life is then determined by appearing to be a certain persona over the internet. Somebody you are not in real life. You get so absorbed in the display of sentimentalism that you forget how to live without the roving eyeballs witnessing your every move. You carve the attention. And, so, you feed it. And, then you carve it somemore.

Isn’t it ridiculous and egoistic to act like you are popular and have 16,000 friends on your Friendster account, when in reality, you know only 50 people on your list, and out of that, 1 is your best friend, 3 are your close friends, 14 are your so-so friends, and the rest? Acquaintances or people you chat with over the net.

In fact, the overwhelming sense of sentimentalism that floods the internet, leads me to think: Maybe you aren’t really that close with your BFF, maybe you are only putting up an act. Maybe your life in reality is not as glamorous as you portray it to be, maybe it’s full of parties and fun, but maybe you are really feeling empty inside? Maybe you feel insecure about having such a handsome boyfriend, and so dedicate internet space to gloat over his pretty boy looks, just so that you can enjoy the attention as long as it lasts?

Okay, let’s assume that you are really, really close to your BFF or your boyfriend/girlfriend? Is there a need to post up photos of you kissing, romantic gestures on their part etc?

Isn’t the greatest kind of love the one that is not unabashedly displayed, but enveloped within the depths of the heart, to be shared between the both of you?

But, maybe I’m just really old-fashioned, and have no idea how the romantic mechanisms of the 21st century really works.

My question is: Who are you hoping to see all these? And, why?

Is it really to spread your joy (How generous of you!) or is it to satisfy a carving for attention deep inside, or an ego/moral-boosting activity?

The free anarchy of the internet dictates that today, Reality TV is not the only path to mini-stardom.

life.

I’m at the stage in my life where I’ve ceased feeling happy for someone else. Good news only serves to makes me sadder. Please, I’m allergic to happy stuff, that familiar rush of envy breaking out rapidly like pimples on an adolescent’s forehead, when I hear something I DON’T REALLY NEED hearing to. The point is, I don’t feel like feeling happy for you when I’m unhappy myself. And, your happiness only serves to highlight my unhappiness. So there.

There are a couple of reasons why Mean Selfish Bitch has manifested itself.

Topmost, of course, is that even meaner bitch called happiness, which keeps playing hide-and-seek with me. It cowers in the most unexpected places, laying quietly in anticipation. But, I never really find it. Sometimes, it gets a little tired or impatient and starts throwing hints my way, but those just flies right past my head. I don’t know why. Perhaps, the fog of unhappiness is too thick and cloudy, I can’t see clearly anymore. Happiness continues to elude me.

Moreover, I HATE my job. I only took it up for the MONEY. Yeah, yeah, what a hypocritical bitch, didn't I say before that money was the least of my concerns? But, then dear Dad cut of all fiscal supply, and while money is not the oxygen of my happiness, it helps to feed my idol-chasing obsession. So there.

In fact, I just splashed close to my one month's paycheck for a pair of concert tickets. Which I agree is a very foolish thing to do, and if I had another chance, I would definitely do it all over again.

Work is exceptionally distressing, mentally exhausting, draining. It feels like reporting back to camp or checking into rehab. You don't want to, but you have to. Besides, I signed a contract, and if I don't complete my stint, I will have to compensate the company with my one month's worth of paycheck, which I can't possibly do so because all that money went to paying for the stupid concert tickets, which I felt was really worth it.

At the same time, I’m tired of the lack of recognition. I had the fortunate acquaintance of a fortune teller during my short trip to China. He mentioned that I was always one step away from success. My personal luck hasn’t always been good. Just when I’m on the road to success, I am hurdled by obstacles. Yes, why do I feel exactly the same way too?

It’s like I’m one block away from success, despite living in the same neighbourhood. It’s like I’m one missing jigsaw puzzle away from being a successful human being. It’s like no matter what I do, success is out of bounds. Hard work is rendered useless in the face of the most unlucky person.

I once worked for a publication on a freelance basis. The editor was a middle-aged guy, he loved my writings. For a while, I felt like I was on cloud nine when he kept sprinkling praises on me like how my writing was comparable to his fellow writers. Just when I thought I’ve reached an unspoken bond with him, he quit his job. The new editor was a female, and for some time I had a little trouble, but very soon I saw my articles being published again. That feeling of triumph was exultant. But, it just wasn’t the same. I felt like I could have done more and could have performed better with the trust and opportunities the previous editor leveled upon me.

It’s okay. It’s alright. I tell myself AGAIN AND AGAIN that I don’t need to rely on the sucking up of others to do well in life. But AGAIN AND AGAIN I feel that maybe exaggerated chicanery is the only way to go in life. After all, it is not what you CAN do, it’s who you KNOW. I know of stupid bimbos who don’t even know the meaning of simple abbreviates like MIA or FYI who manage to snap a job, just because they wear their skirts five inches shorter and their vertiginous heels two inches longer.

Damn. Maybe if I’ve treated that stupid boss of mine I worked for a little better, I could have found a little success by now.