Harassed Over “Sexy Attire”

Looks like the religious police came in another form – school security guards.

Apparently, there was this lady who went to her children’s school was nearly assaulted by a female security guard for dressing in “sexy attire”.

This lady was accused of exposing her body when all she wore was her work uniform. The news also mentioned how the security guard followed her to the school office and was believed that she wanted to her the mother of two.

Read the news here.

This is not an isolated case because I too, had experienced a similar incident. Way back in 2007, I was harassed not by a school security guard but by the Headmistress of the school itself.

Self-righteous, snooty and higher-than-thou attitude lady, she tried to “instill” some nilai-nilai murni (good virues) to me in that quick-flash lecture outside of a classroom while waving and pointing her index finger towards me.

All these happened while other teachers and my daughter were watching in horror.

More “horror” because I did not take it too kindly because I gave her back with a few choiced words that it trailed off to a nicely written report to the nearest Pejabat Pelajaran Daerah (District Education Department).

I was not wearing a mini skirt, see-through blouse with neon bras, white pants with pink thongs or looking like a slut looking for a hook up at the bar. I am sure the mother of two, Fatimah Abdullah from Melaka was not wearing any sexy attire either.

Read my old story here.

This story also reminds me of another incident in Putrajaya not too long ago. I was supposed to have a meeting with one of the Pengarah (Director) of a quasi-government. Together with a few other associates who happened to be all male, we registered ourselves at the counter. All of my male colleagues were allowed to go through except for me.

Now, this appointment was called by this Pengarah for his briefings as well as his team. There I was, the leading team member who was supposed to present the paper, all dressed up in below the knee length black dress and business jacket was stopped at the reception for “not wearing appropriate attire”.


I was brushed off by telling me that it was their “policy on attire”.

Furious with the ridiculous situation, I asked for the blinking copy of the policy in black and white. I also asked to see the security supervisor. By that time, we were like a show with a few spectators wondering what the heck was going on. One of the security guards pointed to my knees.

I asked him what was wrong with my knees when it was well covered by the length of the dress?

He said…”I think I still can see your knees..”

Realizing that talking to a moron was not going to do any good, I promptly called the PA to the Pengarah and had his good office be aware that we were caught late by this silly drama by his security officers.

The incident passed by when the PA himself came down to escort us in with much apologies.

Sometimes I wonder how people see things? These people ought to know what constitutes indecently dressed to proper ones. Are they following a proper policy or they are acting based on their understanding of what “properly dressed” means?




The Man Who Shall Remain Nameless

Dear Mr The Man Who Shall Remain Nameless

I read your blog and FB every day. I hate reading them actually but I have to because, you see, I am a troll. A troll because I wanted to make sure that whatever you write about me will be captured in my print screen.

So that my lawyers will see it and add them up to the file which is already sky high thick.

I also hate the ten gadzillion typo errors you made. I wonder whether the keyboard is faulty or your fingers are? Your language structure sucks. SUCKS BAD TIME. Each time I read your postings I almost cry. THEY SUCK!

No wait. I did cry. I cried reading all the stupidities that you wrote. The obscene words, the whore  and bastard name-calling. I cried because I was amazed that there is such person as you living on this earth.

Each time you call someone a whore or stupid, I count them in my book. I would love to call you names too but there are no dictionaries in the world that can describe the words that I really want to call you.

In fact, not only that I want to call you names, but I would love to meet you face to face and show you how I really feel. If there are no laws in Malaysia, I would have been the most creative person to show you how I really feel.

Dear Mr The Man Who Shall Remain Nameless,

For the moment, I just wanted to tell you that I hate you. Very much. Truly much. I hate the way you write, the way you write your ideas and thoughts in your brain (is there brain up there? Hello…? I can almost hear echos…..), the smug look on your face, the pictures of your dirty home, the righteous words that sprouted from your mouth.


Just wait and see when justice prevails when you will run out of hair to sell to pay for my lawyers’ fees and my lawsuit.

Oh. By the way? You just love posting in every chat room and forums about how you hate the life in Malaysia. You said that the Government sucks because they don’t want to help you. You said that life in other countries are better. That their policies are better.

Hello? Not happy? Please make your way to the National Registration Department of Malaysia, renounce your citizenship and ship yourself out to elsewhere.

See where else in the world where you are not dragged into jail for calling the Prime Minister’s wife a whore. Thank the lucky stars too that the ISA act has been abolished. This is the same guy whose wife you had called a whore.


Astro Oh! Astro! Where Art Thou?

TV programs on most weekends are boring, most of the afternoons are filled with game shows and series that I really dont even bother following. Slapsticks comedies are not my cup of tea too. George seeing me lamenting on this decided to hook up for Astro service to our home. I have not had Astro in a long while since my previous life a few years back.

He was kind enough to walk to the nearest Astro service office near our home, registered and we patiently waited for 14 days for them process and fix an appointment for us with a local installer. Just shy from the 14 days, George received a notification from Astro and promptly fixed a suitable time for us to be at home for the installation.

I never felt so excited waiting for a cable installation in my whole entire life. It is like waiting for a special day. I also thought it was too good to be true that the local installer had fixed an appointment with a promise to call before arriving. What change of breath of air, I thought. Finally, things are done a bit differently.

Perhaps, I spoke to soon.

The promised time which was at 1.00 pm on the Sunday came. Waited till 2.00 pm. I decided to give the installer a call. No luck. Tried four more times until the fifth it was answered by a lady. She said she would get the installer to return my call saying maybe he has a fever. She promptly hung up. She never bothered to take down my details too.

George and I cooked. We ate our lunch. We had dessert. Bathed 4 cats. Read newspapers.

3.00 pm. No installer.

3.15 pm I called the installer again. No answer. I was pissed off. I want my Astro. I waited for 14 days and I didnt see it happening today. Ok, move to Plan B. I called the Customer Service. Told the lady at the end of the line about the predicament and promptly told her to change the installer.

He is not worth the fees my husband has prepared the money for. Infact, I was embarassed. And pissed off. Embarassed because my theory that it was too good to be true did came true. So typical. He could have called if he had been caught up with some other things.

Ni kalu aku nak cakap, ni la Melayu tapi ramai yang sensitive pulak.

Welcoming The Ramadhan Al Mubarak



This year’s Ramadhan started off with a sahur together with The Teenager who thoughtfully brought home “kampung fried rice” when she came back from her outings.

This year’s Ramadhan is different too as we will fast as a new family albeit the distance that we have at the moment.

Just like any other year, the Muslim community in Malaysia welcomes the Ramadhan Al Mubarak in a big bang sort of way. A number of my relatives and friends actually took leave on Friday to prepare for its arrival by preparing local delicacies. In the evening, the menfolks would go to the mosque to perform the special Terawih prayers.

And the festive mood is in the air.

The Ramadhan bazaars would be the focus point for each and every year. I know George would love this. Certain areas of the city is designated for stall owners to sell varieties of food ranging from normal every day “lauk” to certain delicacies that you can only get during Ramadhan month. Most Ramadhan bazaars would start around 4.00 pm and end just right after the breaking fast which is about 7.30pm.

Many years back when I was still living in Kuantan, Pahang, I took the opportunity to open up a “lauk” stall in the Ramadhan bazaar in the town area. This was the time when life was a bit tough and I was doing everything that I could to supplement the family’s income. Every day at about 4.00 am I would be in the wet market picking up the freshest vegetables and meat, and by 6.00 am I would be busy back in the kitchen preparing for the morning’s cooking activities.

Mind you, I was alone, preparing at least about 15 to 20 variety of dishes ranging from curry to “gulai” to fried stuff and to cap off all these, a range of kuih-muih as dessert. Condiments had to be prepared ahead of time such as grinding the dried chillies or peeling the onions and garlic so that time is not wasted.

By 3.00 pm, a van would come and pick me up together with the rest of the dishes which by now have been packed into multiple big containers. Sometimes while waiting for the van, I would doze off for a few minutes trying to catch up on my sleep.

Income was very good. Everything was on cash basis. I lost weight so much that I had to buy belt to tighten up my jeans. Would I want to do it all over again? Maybe, if done a bit differently – with assistants, proper vehicle to transport the food out and a complete kitchen. But then again, I said, just maybe…

Cooking for the new family during this Ramadhan is one of my ultimate wishes this year but unfortunately things are not meant to be just as yet. God willing next year would be a different scenario all together.

My husband called to wish me the Ramadhan Al Mubarak and I wished him the same. He is thoughtful as always. I have started my fast when he called. He will perform his fast the next day as he is still on his Friday at where he is at the moment.

Busana Bridal

I have been thinking lately of putting up another blog on Malay bridal and all the various ceremonies that go into the whole entire wedding process. In my mind, the Malay bridal attire is so unique and beautiful. Each attire and each piece of cloth worn reflects the deep tradition that the Malays have.

I still have no idea how I will put all these into writings or how I will segmentize it but I have thought of the blog title – Busana Bridal, or the bridal attire. The framework will cover the types of bridal attire found in Malaysia, the kind of materials used, the significance of each piece of cloth and so forth.

I would also like to put together the concept that go into the wedding ceremony – garden wedding, traditional, modern including themes etc.



So, stay tuned!

Malay Mentality, Or What?

I chose “what”. Not quite sure about the Malay mentality though.

I am talking about all the dimwitted advisors that seems to surround you when you and your ex are trying to make some coherent, sane, balanced, informed and mutual decisions in a divorce.

Either way, most of them seems to be some stupid stuff:

  1. most likely to come from either side or both sides of the families (MIL, SIL, mother, sister, uncles, aunties and the entire village including the chicken and goats)
  2. highly charged emotional outbursts accompanying some unwarranted choiced words
  3. more choiced words with historical backgrounds from the day each partner being conceived in the womb
  4. that the divorcing couple should be squabbling and cat fighting over every single sen, cats, furniture, kids, stocks, bonds, shares, cars, bedsheets and toothbrushes in the marital home
  5. and that none of them are actually helping but was merely contributing to the noise pollution….

 What the fuck is wrong with you people?

From my observation, usually this kind of stupid mentality only happens in the Malay family. PLEASE correct me if I am wrong. 


Pet Peeves (Ranting)

Pet Peeves  Some people say that your past experiences, how you were raised, developed throughout the years and all that jazz will shape you as an individual. How you treat your life, spouse and children or how you perceive the future life will all depend on these. Sometimes, what you learn along the way will sort of give you ideas on what your next steps to be and what you will look out for. Or not. Well, thanks to my past experiences, I have a long list of what my pet peeves look like:  

  1. MLM newbies. Stop. Bothering. Me. Please. I really don’t care how many PVs I can generate for myself when I simply said to you I just want to use the products that you sell. The concept at least to me is pretty simple. I like your products. I want to buy. You sell. If I like it I will buy some more.

  1. Club Membership Telemarketeer. Which part of my “no” that you don’t understand when I refuse to buy your buy one-get 12 free meals coupons. By the way, where on earth did you get my private phone number?

  1. Beggars who prowl food courts with three healthy looking children in tow. They don’t even look like the “mother”. I personally saw an old man came begging for money at a local food court. After his round of collection, a Waja car came to pick him up and proceeded to stop in front of Victoria Station Steak House nearby. Guessed all the people were paying for his piece of steak.

  1. The great Nigerian scams. Ah…what can I say….from princesses, princes, sons , daughters and even attorneys to wealthy Nigerian politicians whose father, mother, heck- an entire clan- killed by some jealous rivals. None of them allow me to invest in my own great Hanie’s Chili Flavoured Condom manufacturing facility.

  1. Dentist. Blame it on a bad experience when I was 12. I went to the Government dentist to pull out an overgrown molar. The dentist told me it wasn’t going to be painful. He lied. I spent half of my life spending huge investments in dental care simply because I told myself I will not step into another dentist’s chair as long as I live.

  1. Pregnant woman. Don’t get me wrong. I was pregnant before but I had a tough time. I developed post natal blues and no one really realized it much less my then other half. I knew there was something wrong with me but wasn’t sure what it was. Naturally, looking at pregnant women will trigger these bad memories. Maternity hospitals give me the same feeling. Someone told me I need severe therapy for this kind of thinking.

  1. Screaming children in a restaurant. No, it is not okay for them playing and running my table. Not cute at all. I will go to the playground when I want to watch children playing catch.

  1. Kuala Lumpur Bukit Aman Police HQ. Umm…long story… until now I will not even make a detour to that route even if you point a gun to my head.

  1. A clean sweep and bordering to insanely loathsome and severe hatred for most Filipina and Sabahan girls. Makes me sick to the depth of my stomach.  In fact, I am puking as I write this.

  1. Most Malay men (and married one at that) who thought they are God-send to women. No, I am not interested to look at your new apartments as well, thank you. Neither do I want to waste my phone credits in replying to your silly messages. And no, I don’t think circumcised dicks have better personality than those uncut look. Its your personality that matters and why are you telling me this again?

  1. Most married Malay men who tell me how lonesome they are because the wives are not sexy and don’t entertain in bed anymore. Go get yourself a proper couple counseling or get a divorce, then come talk to me, you swine! And in that order too.

  1. Almost anything Irish. That includes The Coors and anyone who goes by the name of Jack.

  1. Anyone by the name of Nelson or Hairiz. Ugh. Please leave your employment application forms by the door and don’t ever come back.

  1. Anyone by the name of Faizal or Zairuddin. I will befriend you with a pinch, no make that a sackful, of salt.

  1. Religious fanatics. Hollier than thou bunch. Whatever religion that is, I really don’t care what faith you practice but just don’t come near me sprouting your wisdoms and whatnots, and thinking how you are above everyone else who doesn’t share your views. Get a life!

  1. All the old aunties and uncles who think that I will look better wearing baju kurung and headscarves 24/7. I don’t share graves with you and neither will I meet my Maker with you in tow. I dress to please myself and no one else. And no, Im not that stupid to wear bikinis to work.

  1. SILs, BILs and MIL or whatever that ends with ILs who thinks they deserve to have a few words on me raising my daughter. As much as I appreciate your concerns and wants to play an active role in her upbringing, it does not include brainwashing her on what a bad parent I am, neither telling her I cant feed her 3 square meals a day. I have a few choiced words to you people, and they are not pretty.

  1. Women drivers who are like lunatics and act as if they left their brains and pair of eyes back home the minute they start the ignition and press on the gas pedal. These women bring shame to the gender. For God’s sake, please learn and master the simple corner maneuvering, side parking, reverse parking and changing a flat tyre. The side mirror is not meant for you to check on your lipsticks only. It is there for other reason.

  1. Myspace new friends who ding dong-ed questions on what colour are my panties for the day. No, you will not judge me simply when you saw a picture of me in a club a few weeks back. Listen to this too – you telling me how much you make in a year will not impress me to bits, ok?

  1. IM new friends. Yes, I have a working cam, and no, I am not interested to see how big your tool is. Please don’t bullshit me that you don’t have a cam when I see the indicator says that you do. Please also don’t tell me that you are in Europe when the time you just told me is the same as in my timeline. I know how many hours is London behind Kuala Lumpur.

  1. Do not interrupt me when I am talking. I have given you my time to listen to your reasoning and rant. It is my time now. Wait for your turn.