Beautiful.Mind.Life

I was alone at home today. My wife, kid and sister went to KL for a reason. So I had KFC’s Dinner Plate for my break-fast yesterday. I was flat out on the bed right after break-fast, being a result of feeling amazingly sleepy.

I woke up at 2 in the morning, feeling funny. Where am I? What did I do just now? Where’s everyone? Whatever it was, I now felt pretty hungry. I did some laundry, packed the bag for balik kampung, and decided for an early sahur. And so I’m off.

It was slighly raining when I started to drive. Wandering around Kerteh town, I stopped at my favorite restaurant which looked like they were still open, just to hear the guy yelled “Dah takde pape dah bang!“, right after I got out of the car. And so I continued to wander. There were few more restaurants, looked like there were still open, but I had bad experience with the first one, so I refused to try.

I headed on to McDonald’s, which has a huge 24-Hour sign, thinking this will surely be my resort for sahur, surely. Arrived, I parked the car at the disabled space (I didn’t think any OKU would’ve come here for sahur anyway). I went straight to the entrance door, after passing three couples comforting each other, cuddling to get some heat in the chilly rain. Get a room, guys. This was by far, the worst view I’ve ever seen during Ramadhan. Even worse, they were all Malays, with the girls were all nicely covered with tudung. Shameless.

Back to my McDonald’s quest. The door was locked. Puzzled, I waved at the floor-cleaning girl inside.

“Dah tutup ke?“

“Ya. Dah tutup.“

“Drive through?“

“Tutup gak.“

“Kata 24 hours?“

“…….“

There I was. Puzzled. No satisfying answer. Hungry. Pissed.

I left, and had my sahur at this weird, all Indonesians restaurant. Even the customers were all Indonesians. I didn’t really care. I had a plate of fried kuehtiaw, a glass of iced Nescafe and a trembling chest watching Liverpool walked away with a 1-0 win over Debrecen in Champions League. I was never a fan of Liverpool. Not that I hate them. I just hate that cocky Rafa.

Conclusion here? I’m right at your side, McCurry, no matter how crazy McDonald’s suppressed you before.

PS: It sucks just to think that I’ve been lied wholly at 4 in the morning.

I was driving to Bank Islam to draw money for my investment. Kemaman traffic was a hell but I managed to keep my patience up. But the coming few scenes somehow successfully brought up my wrath.

SCENE 1

When I finally arrived, the queue was quite long. I was seventh in the line, yet I still think it’s fine. So I waited. When I was third, suddenly a short fat plumpy lady (yes, it’s Ramadhan, but I don’t care anymore) came in from the main door and straight away headed to the guy in front of me. “Tolong cucuk duit saya sekali..” she said, in heavy Terengganu. She was smiling annoyingly, bitching with the guy (who I think in his 40s). There were 8 or 9 people in the line behind me. Shame on you, fatty.

SCENE 2

I finally got my money, and left with curses in my head. Next destination is Maybank. So I headed on. Parking was trouble, but my brother is a magistrate, so I didn’t really care. It was crowded as well in Maybank, but as usual, being positive is one of my good abilities. When I finally reached third in the cash deposit line, SCENE 2 took place. There was a 50+ years old stooge, trying hard to bank in his money, helped by his 40+ years old friend, who turned out to be a stooge as well. They kept trying to key in the account number, and for God knows how many times, they still couldn’t fill up the 12-space Maybank account number. They only have 10 numbers. The younger stooge finally decided to back of, as he realized that people were waiting behind and the line had already reached the entrance door. “Takpe, kejap lagi kita try lagi…” I unintentionally saw a piece of yellow colored paper in his hand, which was surely the carbon copy of a bank-in slip, complete with an account number. I believe that number is the same number they were trying to fit in the electronic form of Maybank’s deposit machine. They took like half an hour, and still didn’t manage to figure that they were in the wrong bank. The slip has a Public Bank logo.

Oh dear…….

SCENE 3

After the stooges walked away from the machine, the guy in front of me started to bank in his money when suddenly another ugly-faced guy greeted him. “Masuk 200 nih skali, nih nombor akaun dia…” he said while handing the guy in front of me with four pieces of RM50 note and his state-of-the-art Nokia E71 with a set of numbers on the screen. Apparently, they were frineds. What a true unmannered @$$#0le. They had a short chat. I listened. Kelantan accent was pure. The ugly-faced works for ******** Carigali.

Handphone mahal, kerja bagus, tapi takde adab. Down the drain, dear.

SCENE 4

My turn. Click here click there, I finally got my money into the deposit machine, to be deposited to my friend who’s handling my investment. RM3500.

Darn! The amount should be RM4000. I screwed up. Since ATM machine can only dispenses a maximum of RM1500 per transaction, I had to do three transactions to get my four grand. RM1500 + RM1500 + RM500 = RM4000. Smart ass, Skis.

PS: 1MALAYSIA without manners. Down the drain !

PSS: A1 in Mathematics, SPM 2000. Down the drain !!

PSSS: Puasa hari ke-23 di bulan Ramadhan 1430 with a lot of hardcore curses in the head. Down the drain !!!

Again, Awana Kijal was where we had our breakfast yesterday, this time sponsored by Cetco. Thank you.

Not so many pictures this time, as the place is heavily crowded. Can hardly move around. But I have to say that Awana did good job preparing the food. All of them were much better than past years, although there are still rooms for improvement. The marinated fried beef was the man-of-the-match last night. Nice.

PS: Alhamdulillah.

PSS: Today we’ll meet again for next iftar. Venue? Awana, again!!

We had our breakfast last night in Kemaman’s Room at Awana Kijal. A decent room with warm ambient, better food than last year (all the previous years in fact). New caterer perhaps. But still, I won’t pay such an amount of money to have dinner over there again. Unless it’s free like last night.

Imran was the limelight, maybe because he’s the youngest. Or maybe because everyone was expecting to see him. Or maybe simply becase he’s too cute to resist (papa’s son, where else would you think he gets his cuteness?).

Well, he almost scream last night, right after that funny guy announced we can start the food feast. But we somehow managed to put him into sleep, and eat happily ever after.

We left at almost 8PM. Heavy-headed and filled-tummy. There goes my diet, yet again.

Click on the picture for more images in Flickr.

PS: Mrs. Herbalife, I will need your great product again the soonest after Eid.

PSS: Ms. Coach, your order is done.

PSSS: Oh, free breakfast feast again tonight? Text me the place!

I was on SKYPE, chatting with an old friend. We came up to the where-to-have-breakfast-today topic. I copied the conversation below from SKYPE as I find it crazily amusing:

FRIEND: berbuke kat mane arini

tak p param ke?

MIND : param? mana tu?

apsal cam nama pelakon india tuh je?

FRIEND: PAsar RAMadhan la

pelakon india tu ANAMALAY

And within the quietness of the office, suddenly a huge laughter bursted out. A psychotic one, in fact.

PS: Tak bole tahan….