Rambo- -The Fish

Rambo’s diary – 21st. May.2007

The average life span of a fighting fish is two years; mathematically speaking Rambo’s time is almost up. For the past week, Rambo, has been lethargic and he would spent his time at the bottom………..he is getting weaker by the day, fighting the biological clock.
I procrastinated writing about him……I don’t know why…..but now I have to because……..before ……Rambo……. I would prefer to write about the life and time of Rambo ……than……in the memory of that boy. I call him Boy.
A few days ago, Rambo blew bubbles on the surface signifying that he is ready to mate….dirty old boy……from past experience, I got a female mate for my children’s fish and the next morning , he was all bruised up…..tattered fins and tails, the mate fares no better……..maybe that is why they are called fighting fish. Rambo can’t possibly take it. Sorry pal.

The Uglier Betty. (Maid)

I went for a walk with Peter this evening…….pour my heart out about Betty- my maid.
It was a month ago when she came into our life to replace the former maid who had to return home after more than three years with us…..due the family obligations.

Three months before Uglier Betty arrival, the Malaysian and the Indonesian Government got into a sort of deadlock regarding the supplying of
Indonesian maids at an agreeable charges and so on…..Supplies dries up, pending further
negotiations.

The employment agency provided us with only three data’s….my wife choose the prettiest. As advised by the agency- that the new maid should never meet the old maid and there was a time lapse of two days before the former is to leave, we brought the maid to my mother’s house for the duration.

Mummy was shocked out of her pants and shriek… Why, you got no money to employ maid…..ah!
I said, “Ma, we paid an arm and leg for her.”
Ma asked, “Why so ugly.” She was the prettiest of the lot, I said.
When it was time to fetch her back, mother was very reluctant to release her….telling us specifically to be good to her. Strange…..very strange.

Our four dogs that normally bark ferociously at any stranger wagged their tails happily welcoming her with so much fanfares….Bewildered …….my wife and looked at each other in disbelief. After some ice breaking with the family she started doing her work. She did a fantastic job, the best job ever by any maid the last twenty years.

My children like her, my wife likes her and ………I, I can’t stand her….she is very slow….far too slow..!!! We started missing our breakfast because she was too slow in preparing……..having our lunch at 3 pm.…….dinner at 9 pm. And she finishes washing the laundries at 1.30 am. Either my wife or I have to wait to ensure all doors and windows are properly shut for the night. My God…...and we are using washing machine…..and we have to get up at 6 am. Everyday………deprived of sleep for more than a month. We have time and time again told her not to iron the underwear, towels .I am not complaining but it was totally unnecessary and a complete waste of time…she still does it her way, the ironing takes up at least 3hours- she does everything her way, sets her own timetable- she gives a very good job….the toilets exceptionally clean…. The floor squeaky so what am I ranting about…. She is a perfect maid.

She is also the stupid ….irritatingly stupid…..so many unspeakable moments…maybe it is miscommunication…… I don’t know. When I stopped the car parallel to the gate, the maid would rush out to open the gate, I have told her times and again that I came back to get something or to fetch the children; when I drove the car facing inward towards the gate, it would mean that I am coming home, she would just stare at me from the window……doing nothing.

The last straw was that very morning when I ate something very disagreeable – I rushed home ….pointing my car inwards toward the gate and honked….honk…..honk…she just stood there by the window….just looking. (Is she trying to be funny?) I wind down the window and shouted, “Stupid, open the gate.”
She rushed out……you wouldn’t want to know …phew! In the nick of time... Peter Geh told me that it was misunderstanding…..I guess he was right……be patient teach her with love and understanding…Peter…oh…Peter.

On the 13th. May, Mother’s Day, mother had a word……words with me regarding Betty, and knowing the person that I am, her son, She….lectures….makes sure that…..makes me promised…Yes Ma……..but Ma…..ok Ma….you don’t understand Ma………yes Ma…… no problem…..I promise….yes. yes…yes….sorry Ma….very tire….not enough sleep…….I’ll try….you are right.. But my blood pressure…..ok, it’s my fault….I have no patient…I promise to be patient Ma…..can I go now……no..ok..ok…ok yes Mummy.

I am prepared to adjust to her……Peter advised…. No, just give her time to adjust
Beauty lies in the eyes of beholder…Today, I found her to be sweet…. loving…What have I done or say……she is not so ugly……Times breed familiarity. Everybody likes her…….My mother loves her the way she first held me up when I was a baby.
We, my wife and I, will be getting another maid in nine months time, after the six month warranty and three month probation,……..a maid for my maid. Can you believe it?

P/S: She has an appetite of a horse. I love people to eat….the more the better.

Queen Liz

Elizabeth or better known as Liz is the most beautiful 85 years old woman I have had the opportunity to know.

At her age, she has an air of regal dignity that many woman her age does not have and her good posturing speaks volume of her health and her matriarchal personality, something I believe, she was born with.

After talking to her, I am inspire to produce a short documentary titled " It Touches My Heart" as a tribute to her for overcoming many obstacles in life and coming out a better person than before. Unfortunately, due to insufficient materials, the progress is hinder.

This short-video clip on her would certainly allow us a rare opportunity to glimpse into a life of an ordinary person doing extraordinary things.

To anyone out there with a touching moment to tell, a defining moment to share, e-mail me your story and if it is a story worth sharing, I shall post it up on my blog. If it is exceptionally inspiring and that good come out of it, will be beneficial to the society, I will feature it in my documentary, with your permission, of course.

E-mail me at talk3-talk4@hotmail.com

The above essay was ably written by my secretary after pouring through scores of half written text of you and hours listening to me stressing a point, so that she capture the very essence of the beautiful person that you are- Serious writing should be left to the pro-
Left on my own and I am to write, people might think that I am talking about a GOLDFISH.
Thanks Liz.

Joy

I have never felt so ashamed of mankind.... the picture of Joy in the newspaper with its mangled jaws inflicted upon by fellow mankind.

That night, tears flow uncontrollably in the private of my bedroom.........I can't explained......I have never felt so lost...........so ashamed........so remorse.

Joy, the stray female bitch, was mutilated and decapitated so badly that the veterinary surgeon had to remove
part of the lower jaws.

It was traumatizing.......I could never imagined such cruelty inflicted upon another living thing..........with so much pain and suffering but I can imagine, without even trying, the sadistic nature of man upon fellow mankind..........

This very episode brought humanity back upon me.........but 'm sure.........If you have seen it, you would be awaken to the fact that pain and suffering is not the monopoly of mankind.

Thanks Joy, I am a changed person. I am so, so sorry.


my e-mail: talk3-talk4@hotmail.com

Mother's song. The Poetry

.......to all mothers on this very special occasion.

The gift we bought..
...............for the services rendered.
The sweet words of endearment..
...............for the mothering tendered.

We never ever heard..
our mother sings..........
If you don't know me by now....

We love our children..
....told their mother the same.
but...for the mothering showered.

She hums...If you don't know me by now......

Ma, now I understands
that.. in the silence you cried..
...........If you don't know me by now.....

that's what kept you going..
that's what kept us strong.

My wife.......in the silence you shout..
..........If you don't know me by now....
I never knew you..........that's true..

All mother ever want is..that we knew..
Today, in that silence..we finally heard.

For all those years that I didn't....
Ma, I am so very sorry.

Mother, the world over.....
.....we finally heard the song you sung..
time immemorial.....
If you don't know me by now....




Inspired by my wife, Sammantha.

Robert Lau

Ijok - The aftermath.

Ijok-The aftermath.

I passed Ijok today on my way to Sekincang…. I hardly notice it ….except…ten days ago that Ijok became the Culinary Capital of Malaysia…. As gourmet paradise where the best ‘Rendang’…. The best sweet sour Talapia, the best ‘ Roti Canai’ was found here.

In the game of politics, on upmanship was even fought in stalls, eateries, restaurants….even under a tree.

The axiom… the best way to the local’s heart is through their food…. Was played by everybody who is anybody who is somebody of an affiliate…parties ….clubs associated with a clan that is associated with a leader who is associated with some big fish who is the distance cousin and so on and so forth.

There is /was an unwritten rule that no two different party is to be at the same place eating the same food at the same time.

So they say: The Chinese says “ One go, one come,” the Indian says “I come you go,” The Malay would say “ One come all go.”

The one that came… eat…paid up and go….swear that it was the best they have ever tasted…..even when they paid an arm for it….it was worth every cents….good value for money.

The one that came after the other went…..swore that it was the best and order tens of packs to take away for their grandmother to have a taste of this heavenly delights demonstrating the pinnacles of filial piety.

He….She….they….patronized every eateries….leaving no cooks….chefs….undiscovered…even some households..... suddenly developed an appetite of a rabbit…..genetically rabbits has no sense of fullness….they eat continuously, stopping only to rest or sleep.

I was there…. I have no reason whatsoever to be here….but I was here to soak up festivities and dynamics….then…..I got hungry….I went to a coffee shop to have some food…..everything was sold out except for fried rice.

I do not belong to any politic party and as such I do not have to please them….I shall call a spade a spade….the ‘What-was-that,’ was the worst fried rice I ever tasted. I protested silently….my dear wife was there to remind me…..lest I might end up on the chef’s chopping block to be stew in their cooking pot.

After all, these so called connoisseur have been jacked so high up in the stratosphere…....they will be in no mood, any mood at all for the hard landing- the reality check.

So I played politics….eating with gusto, relishing every mouthful-careful not to let my body-language betray me…. Finishing every grains, wash it down completely with ice-tea….Phew! paid an arm for it….and having to pretend to show that it was value for money…..I almost got carried away by wanting to shake his hand….like almost every politician who got carried away in their game.

This afternoon, as I passed….most of the eateries were empty save for a few locals….a far cry from the day of the yo….

‘To me this whole thing seems to be a silly joke,’ …the lyrics of a local band of the 70’s. …the Strollers with their song titled ‘Silly Joke’ DÉJÀ VU

Politician and Blog talker.

I talk too much about anything ........everything all the time.. that not many have the time to listen to my babbling.
My listeners, principally my wife.. got tired.....too much to compute............to comprehend the comprehensibility or
incomprehensibility of my comprehension......if you know what they going through ...and if you know what I mean......
..Your problem is that ....I can't stop talking........too opinionated and I hadn't stop since I started talking forty-six
years ago.
Blog is god-send..........I have a readied audience...real or perceived ......if they ever bother to listen. It is the
perfect avenue to air one's view.........blowing hot and cold...it didn't matter the contents............mostly trash.
I choose to write the way I talk so that my words become organically enlivened to act as a conduit to channel
my thoughts to whoever is listening......will be able to laugh, cheer.......think.....jeer.....cry a little with me......
besides I do not have to worry about being GRAMMATICALLY perfect.

A writer may experience writer's block and draws blank...............the talker doesn't but he does talk BLANK....
..........full of rhetorics without substance......like a politician.........like me......but here is where the similiarity ends...
I talk to make you think........a politician talk to stop you thinking..........how else can you explain that....the
unqualified father and husband.....of questionable character...of questionable intergrity.......
.of unethical morals...whom you would not trust your last dollar with..much less your maid..........to become
the LEADER OF MEN....
Ironically, the world at large cohabits in a civil societal structure built upon wisdoms and commonsense
by A FEW GOOD MEN of politics.
Incidentally, if I was in politics I would be the little Napoleon of a nondescript department manning the information
counter demanding that you are dressed decently before you will be able to approach me for an application form.

Sumfing is wrung.

.......................wifh fha ..kiyb@ard.............

..../.,;...,shik...........s@............b@d............f@r n@w.....

B.O.D. ( Blogger off day )

I am a fastidious person............ in fact quite stubborn. You see...because my last entry and as with every other
entry........I refused to allow anybody to help me type ..because..I wanted every pause and nuances to reflect my thoughts
and moods so that when I am writing...........I am actually talking to you.
I spent two and a half hours typing out my last entry..................my backs hurt............the tip of my index finger ..bruised..
and my eyes burn.. The arms of my right hand housing that rawed index finger........swelled.
My right shoulder felt higher than the left........... I can't look right without first having to look left..........so that my neck wouldn't hurt.
I am sitting on my right buttock because my left buttock took the bashing when I was poking away at the keyboard with my right hand.
That's the price to pay for talking too much ................................ I will never let anyone talk on my behalf.
..............The above text was painfully type with the third finger of my right hand.........arg.............arg.........foooooosh!!

............So.................... BOD...................for now.

I know how to be a millionaire.

Years ago, I was at a mamak shop ( local slang for coffee shop ) having my breakfast .................sitting next to my
table was a young upstart with his girlfriend. On the table, there were a few books; self-help books ..most likely, and
in his hand he was holding and reading " Think like a millionaire "..............and this was what I saw that morning.......
............and heard.... .. .. .........

He put the book down and started lecturing his girlfriend......about wealth.........his talents ...abilities....skills......his predictions..
....forecasts.........all with the air and style of a millionaire.

This person wore a white long-sleeves shirt with the top two unbutton exposing his hairy chest, ......adorning his neck
is a thick gold necklace, the thickness of a bicycle chain hanging a solid gold penchant with the circumference of a golf ball.
On his hand, he had a bracelet the thickness of a motorcycle chain and a gold ring with a ruby stone the size of a quail egg....
................he has a gold watch.

The overpowering fruity scent ( poison......I suspect ) reminded me of a toilet of a hotel. ....Suddenly,......he snapped at the waiter with......such pomposity.......such style ..ordering something and at the same time admonishing him in his native tongue....
....the way the Maharajas would to his servants.........perhaps complaining ........demanding...of the services.

I have had enough....paid up my two dollars worth of breakfast .....went to another mamak shop down the road to have my
two dollars breakfast.

Later.......on my way to work....I saw this same character waiting at the bus station......ram rod straight back.... full of confident.
Did he became a millionaire ? I doubted so......because with all those fineries and styles adorning him.......he will not ...may not...
want to roll up his sleeves, so to speak , to do hard honest work the hard way.............the basic ingredient required of a millionaire
for a start ....at least.

He thinks like a millionaire.....act like one..........dressed as one........and worst...thought he is one.........and whether or not
..he sure smells like a public toilet.

Now I know !!!!~...........how to be a millionaire which is to write a book on "How to be a Billionaire ".....but first.......I must get
started......but only after I have sold my car to finance.........a style befitting of a millionaire so that I can think like a millionaire.......... ..
..maybe that was what he did.