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I write with no particular theme in mind, because I am random like that.

31 2011

Little lizard with 6 lives

It made its first appearance on my bathroom wall about a week ago. It was cautious about being spotted, moving its little head furtively left and right with every step it took.

I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth when I detected some small movements from the corner of my eye. I stopped short and looked over, and that was when the lizard stopped in its tracks too. I shrugged since I was in an uncomfortable position (with my mouth full of foam then) and resumed brushing. The movement resumed too.

I looked over and the lizard stopped moving again. This was a shrewd one.

I gargled the foam out and immediately welded the shower hose. I could sense that the lizard had begun to panic there and then before all its furtive moments gave way to frantic running.

Too late. The blast of water from the hose knocked the lizard off the wall and onto the ground. Floundering for survival in the surging waters, the fellow was eventually washed down the drain pipe.

Brenda – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 2
I stepped into the bathroom and the little one suddenly scurried out from beneath a pail. The same one as the other day. Not expecting that at all, I let out a squeal and jumped – but not before welding my trusty ol’ weapon all over again.

For the second time that week, the little lizard struggled to break free as it was washed away into the drain pipe while I grinned sadistically at my second victory for the week.

Brenda – 2, Lizard – 0.

Day 3
The little one decided to get even shrewder. This time, it didn’t target the bathroom. It decided to seek revenge in my room instead. And of all places, the wardrobe.

It stood at the edge of my wardrobe looking at me as if it was going “muahahaha, you can’t get rid of me so easily”. Heck, it was probably laughing its guts out when I let out one of the loudest screams I’ve ever let out so far in 2011. And there I was, panicking because any moment, it would start running into the abyss that is my wardrobe.

Damn, this was a smart one. But it got mangled anyway by mum who came to my rescue at the moment – grabbing the little thing with a tissue and flushing it down the toilet.

“There! it’ll never bother you again,” she says. I was happy.

Mum – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 4 and 5
I bet mum was regretting she said that. Because, the shrewd little one had decided to briefly stop taunting me, but shifted its attention to her instead.

For two days in a row, the little one showed up in the bathroom with my mum – terrorizing her in the shower, or while she’s in the midst of her half-hour long makeup-application sessions. To her credit, she didn’t scream in terror like what I’s usually do. Instead, she put up a bold fight with the little one with the use of several layers of toilet roll and this awesome suction mechanism called the toilet flush.

Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.

Day 6
“There! it’ll never bother you again,” the mum said a few days ago. Boy, was she wrong.

The lizard showed up in the bathroom again, this time slightly larger than I had last seen it (which also means it’s harder to wash the damn thing DOWN the drain pipe). This time – utterly frustrated – I contemplated using something heavy to just squash the damn thing dead once and for all. Previously, washing/flushing the thing down the drain pipe/toilet bowl could mean that the lizard could have managed to wedge itself on some solid surface, survive and then climb its way back up.

But squashing it would only mean that someone HAS to pick up the remains – and the person wouldn’t be me.

So, I picked up the shower hose again. And turned the water temperature dial to its hottest possible setting.

And because the lizard was larger, I couldn’t wash it down the drain pipe as easily as before. The fellow was washed around the toilet floor (with me standing on top of the toilet bowl), round and round for almost an entire minute as I struggled to get it down the drain. For a while, I felt as if I was cooking lizard soup.

It went down the drain pipe in the end. For the third time. Good bye, little one. For good, I hope.

Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0.


I haven’t seen it for three days so far. And I hope I’ll never see it again. This is one shrewd lizard with a stubborn will to live. But smart lizards should also know that they shouldn’t return to the scene at which they were last (attempted to be) murdered. Tsk.

Final score: Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0 and Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.

16 2011

Hey, stop coughing at the back of my head!

I told off an elderly uncle sitting behind me on the bus en route to work yesterday morning.

The latter had been coughing violently for several minutes, directly aimed at the back of my head. I could feel the force of the wind at my hair, and the latter made no move to block the flow of whatever grisley grimey germs that were flying out like little invisible projectiles from his mouth.

The coughing stopped for a few seconds, and I thought okay, perhaps it’ll come to an end here.

Then, he started again.

Enough was enough.

So I spun around. “If you need to cough, please at least cover your mouth. Thank you,” I told him curtly before spinning back to face the front.

The coughing stopped instantly, and any subsequent coughs became muffled.

Mission accomplished.

I happened to be sharing about my day with my mum later in the evening and the above story was brought up. Upon hearing that I had actually been telling people off on the bus, my mum’s expression changed into a look of pure horror.

“How can you do that? Next time don’t do that! Some people will get violent and will punch you, you know?” My mum exclaimed.

“Well. If they even lay a finger on me, it simply shows their lack of civilized behaviour, aye?” I responded.

“No point getting yourself injured what!” Mum tutted.

“I’ll risk it. Better than having all sorts of germs crawling around in my hair. And if I didn’t bother to tell him off, I wouldn’t know how long more would the coughing have gone on.” I reasoned. Gee, if I hadn’t – I think I’d have gotten a free hair wash during that bus ride.

“Next time, be more tactful lah!” Mum advised after a moment of silence.

“Tactful? TACTFUL?!” I exploded. “Was I not tactful enough? I even thanked him!”

“If I decided to not bother with being tactful, I would have screamed something like ‘CAN YOU STOP FUCKING COUGHING AT THE BACK OF MY HEAD?!’ which I REALLY felt like doing at that moment!”

That was when Mum burst into peals of laughter.

“Okay, okay, you’ve got a point.”

With that, ladies and gentlemen. I shall leave you with a reminder that should you ever leave the house with flu-like symptoms, please please please cover your nose and mouths with a tissue should you need to err … expel anything. Not because of any fear of meeting people like me, but because it’s basic civic-mindedness. Kthxbai!

27 2010

10:17 PM

Funny Stuff

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Laughter – what this trip is defined by

(This is a backdated entry written offline, and published when I – finally – had wireless access.)

The ongoing vacation in New Zealand has been full of amusing happenings (and merry mishaps) thus far. It’s been about;

1. A GPS named Nicolette, christened by my younger cousin J. Apparently, Nicolette was not very accurate. She led us to an abandoned shack once when we wanted to go to the Geothermal Park, and let us off-track to an unmaintained gravel road in the mountains when we wanted to drive to Wellington. Bottom line is, don’t expect 100% accuracy from a GPS. Needless to say, Nicolette received a fair amount of verbal abuse.

2. My uncle flirting with the lady behind the counter at Subway, Hutt Valley (Wellington) … right in front of his wife. And the lady flirted back. Even gave him a free foot-long piece of bread too.

3. Receiving our rental MPV cars on our first day at Auckland and realizing we had no idea how to operate it, right down to the most basic operation of opening the car doors. We’d punch a button (e.g. to open the door) and something else (e.g. the lights coming on) will happen instead. Imagine that happening ten times in a row. It took us half an hour to figure out the basics, and a further 5 days to get used to it.

4. Merry mishaps such as us causing the curtain rod at our Wellington motel to crash onto the floor when we overloaded it with our wet laundry.

5. Playing silly games such as “guess what Brenda will say when she returns to meet us”, “guess what Jillian will say when she comes out of Subway” and “guess which auntie is awake when we reach the motel”. And the loser has to drink some vile concoction.

6. Playing pranks on one another in the car. Such as putting the air conditioning at full blast when it was already dead cold outside, letting farts rip when everyone least expects it, and pretending to drive off when the last few people are still walking towards the car.

7. Putting the two top snorers in the same room and listening to them PK in the middle of the night. (It sounded like an orchestra in there.)

8. Conversations loaded with too much information.

In the car, on the way back to our motel in Wellington.

J – “Can I bathe first?”
Me – “Sure!”
J – “My backside’s itchy.”
Me – “Okay, too much information.”
J – “I think it’s growing fungus!”
Me – “…”

9. The drives around town with the cousins in the MPV with the windows down, with Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” playing at full blast on the radio with us singing along at the top of our voices.

“I gotta feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good night,
That tonight’s gonna be a good night,
That tonight’s gonna be a good good night.”
– The Black Eyed Peas

Among many others. Thanks for keeping the smile on my face.

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