25

It's crunch time. The countdown has begun. And my trusty Mac-expert in on-leave for the whole week. Which makes it easier to stand firm on my decision to hold-on and wait 'till they release the new iMac.

Time to look for a 1GB of RAM to slot into my iBook.

25 days left till my date on the 20th of August. Time to gather my things together and push thru. 2 deadlines, 2 campaigns, 1 side project, 1 video project and 1 portfolio with 2 years worth of work to compile. Sounds daunting, scary and almost impossible. Yet again, I did slave over 3 pieces of A1-sized paintings with 2 sleepless nights during my Foundation year. I managed, somehow. Barely. But nonetheless, I did it. And I really mean 2 sleepless nights. I did start to see things. Weird things floating. I started to hallucinate.

Sleep never felt so good after that.

After Futsal yesterday - a somewhat disappointing but yet fun outing cos though I scored only twice, I created half of Ryan's 15-goal rampage - I felt it coming. Impending sickness. Scratchy throat, cold-sweat and you know, that "one kind" kind of feeling you get before you descend into a full blown sickness. I got home and immediately took one bloody cold shower to cool off, chug down 2 panadols and passed out. I woke up the next morning with THE nastiest headache, thus I kept snoozing my alarm until 8.30am. I got up eventually, knowing if I don't make work today, everything I've been working on for the past month towards the 20th would be in serious jeopardy. I dragged myself up and made one bloody power cup of coffee. Followed by another even-the-penguins-would-freeze cold shower to wake me up and hopefully drive the headache off.

It worked.

And now here I am. 25 days left.

It's crunch time!

Pulau Pening

First, a little girl is murdered, chopped to pieces and scattered all over the island. Then some guy gets shot 7 times.

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO PENANG MAN?

Now or Later

So, with my PC finally kicking the bucket - or in a state of a perpetual coma - I've decided to move on. I made my way to Apple's HQ at Hardwicke to meet up my ex-colleague, an old friend and a die-hard-knows-all Mac enthusiast, Mr. Kant. The guy with a English accent but full blown chinese-looking bloke who is half a head taller than me.

He was attending to a customer, who just bought a shiny white Macbook, he glanced up and saw me, "Hey Meng, be with you in a minute," he said.

I placed my bag on one of the sofas and made my way to the shelves, checking out the iPod accessories. But an open-case iMac caught my attention. Man, the insides of an iMac is so bloody intricate and complicated. I bend down a little to examine the interior. His customer left shortly after that. We started nerding about.

After we finish discussing the server problem we have at our office, I admitted, "Actually, that's not why I'm really here," I said to him, since I was coming here, might as well.

I folded my arms and looked up to him, "My PC at home finally exploded last Friday," I tell you, it's so strange looking up to talk to someone...so used to looking down, heh, "It's god-sent that it's finally konked, proper," but at the worst time. My neck is still aching from the Music Fest, so I suggest to him we sit down.

We sat on the sofa and his eyes popped out in disbelief, "Oh what happened?"

I explained to him that the motherboard had a mini Hiroshima, "So I'm in the market looking for a new system. An iMac to be precise," I pick up one of the brochures and pointed out to him, "The exact same one we bought from you earlier this year, but this time it's for myself."

What scared me was when he gave me this look, kinda like a Oh-man-you-should-not-buy-one-now, "Meng, ummm, how badly do you need a computer now?"

"Well, I kinda have to finish my portfolio by the 20th of August," I told him, and I've only have 30% of it done, "I'm desperately running out of time."

Kant took a long sigh, as if thinking of a solution, "You do know Apple recently announced the release date for Leopard (the new OS X) right?"

"Uh huh."

"If, if you can wait for just another 2-months, it'll be better," citing that they're gonna have the iMacs revamped, pre-loaded with the new and improved OS, along with a new keyboard and mighty mouse design, "On top of that, they might also phase out white and introduce a silver iMac!"

Woah! Thats waaay too cool.

I respond, "What about the upcoming PC Fair? I thought if the deals are sweet enough, I might just go for it during the fair." Because the last fair, they gave away free speakers (worth RM499 - RM799 depending on which model), wireless keyboard (worth RM200+) and a wireless mouse (worth just under RM200), which totals up to about RM1K in free gifts.

"Meng, you worked with us before, you know how this works. No promotions will be released or published until at least 3 days before the event itself. Heck, I wish I knew what they are gonna offer."

We discussed further on the possible new iMac, and I ask him to give me a holler the minute he has any information about the PC Fair promotion. I left Hardwicke about 10 minutes later.

Now I'm in a dilemma, should I just risk it and buy it at the fair and end up kicking myself 2-months later when they release a silver Mac - which could be possibly smaller, thinner and sleeker (and silver) or should I just invest in upgrading the RAM in my iBook to finish off my portfolio and get the silver Leopard iMac later.



Oh the predicament.

Very Muddy World Music Festival

Because I jumped and basically layan the music there...
now my whole body is achingly sore.

I shall let the camera do the blogging.


As you can so clearly see. Ju was already wasted before we got into the Festival. Thanks to 4 Vodka Ribena shots - which Vig's mom said is the most disgusting combination - and 2 cans of beers.


Dawn sponsored us Ice-Cream. I didn't quite fancy one, but I could use the sugar-rush. Thanks Dawn.


We manage to meet up Auntie Sue and gang as well. They were the VIPs. And our discount cards.


James decided to cancel his weekend plans and join us. Too bad he (and his girl) wore white shoes too.


"Ohmygawd, my feet is soaking wet with mud and it stinks here! Woooo!!!!!"









I swear to god, not a single soul at the festival understood what these Mongolians had to say in-between sets. No one!



Ahhh, of course, the aftermath. I was so drunk, so caught up. I couldn't care less. I wore slippers to work today.



Man, my Pumas are so fucked now. Like proper fucked.
But hey, it was waaay worth it.

I'm so going to Sarawak next year.

The Smell Of Burning Circuit Is Never Good

I was at my room, messing about my brand spanking new phone. Adding some songs, customizing it. When suddenly, I heard a faint sound from the living room - sounded like it came from the general direction where my PC was.

"Poof!" it went. For some strange reason, the first thought that race into my head was my comp, "Oh crap, no!"

I rushed out to find my monitor displaying an eerie blank screen, the red HD light isn't blinking. And there was a faded and pale smell of burning circuit. This is not good. Not good at all.

I tried in vain to turn in on again. The green light would illuminate, but the red light won't. My heart is racing now. I've got 31 days left and I'm having a mini-freak out in my head. 31 days left for me to re-design my entire portfolio, 2 years plus worth of work in the real world. It hasn't descended into a full blown fuck-I-should-have-done-my-portfolio-way-earlier mode because I've saved it on my portable HD, but not having a working computer at home to finish it off calls for a down-graded freak out. But it's still a freak out nonetheless.

"So what do you think is fucked?" I ask Vig, he was on the winding road in Mt. Erskine. He told me we could get cut off at any given time because the reception is horrible there.

"Well, the good news is that the green light is still on," he explains, but it could be the hard drive. Because the red light isn't illuminated.

I'm not so worried about the cost of fixing it, but the hassle involved in the process, "Haihh, it couldn't have happen at a better time," I sighed, "I don't have much time left," on top of that, we still have a video to shoot for his dad's tribute music video. Plus some side-projects as well.

In my head, I'm thinking this is the best time to finally switch to Macs, full blown Macs. Then I realized I don't have the cash to splash. Crap.

After getting abruptly cut off, my phone sings Tainted Love by The Cure, it was Vig calling me back, "Don't worry lah cha, it shouldn't cost too much or take up too much time."

-Me and Ryan laughed when I told him that I'm gonna use Tainted Love for Vig when he calls me. My justification was that Vig loves random, this song was the draw of the luck-

Trying to get my mind into the whole 'it's half full not half empty' optimism, "Guess so," I muttered, still feeling giddy.

Now, all I need to do - or can do - is to remove the primary HD and replace it with a 3rd. Which is the OS backed up HD I have. With this, I should be able to determine weather its the HD or RAM that is fried. Because none of those showed any burnt marks. Oh the hassle. Ack!

Driven

The strangest thing happened today.
Ryan made a surprise appearance today, standing in front of my office, I told him to come in.

That's when it happened.

"Dude, let's go for lunch," he says. Immediately I reach for my pocket to get me keys, he went on, "I'll drive."


Woah!


We've been friends since 1999. And he has never driven me before.

Gone Dry

First, they can't cope with the Rempits.
And now, the car thief stole the Porsche again right under their nose. In the station. Man, he must want that car real bad. Perhaps he's got a hot date coming up. If only he knew, the "Getting Lucky" ratio for Porsche isn't as impressive as its ability to reach 0-100km in about 4 seconds. In fact, it's the second lowest among exotic sports in terms of sex-appeal. Yet again, a Porsche 911 Targa 4 is to die for. But we're not here to talk about the car.

But the force.
Or lack there of.

What's funny is that the thief is aware that his first attempt was foiled with the lack of petrol. What makes him think his second attempt would magically fill up the gas tank?

Now, who's the real idiot?

Chatbox Quote

Because my chatbox can only store messages for only 3 months...

kev: i'm bored...so bored...

Von: Go wank

kev: YVONNE! I'M SHOCKED! WHAT'S WITH THE UNNECASSARY VULGARITY?!?!?!

kev: fuck i'm bored...

kev: and i need to prepare for a training session next week...

kev: this is what happnes when i don't have the tb to whore on...

kev: ian, you fucking jelly fucker...

...quotes like this should be kept.

Pulled

Here’s a question. Why do dentist insist on asking you all this questions when they know well enough that your mouth is wide open, with their instruments all jammed inside and their hands all over your face.

The dentist is knocking on the tooth which hurts along with the tiny round mirror, “Do you feel any pain here?” he asks.

I hate to point it out, but you know, I’m not exactly in the best situation to answer that, “Woh!” I muttered. I can’t even shake my head. It’s the closest thing to pronouncing no with my mouth wide open.

I can’t help but notice the nurses. There were so many of them. Call me shallow, but a sweet, cute or even better, hot girl in a nurse outfit never fails to turn a guy on. Even if she’s only 50% hot, sweet or cute…the outfit alone will compensate the other 50%. No? Oh come on. I know most of my friends would agree. OK, not some of them - all of them would.

The process took less than 5 minutes. And to my benefit, it was completely painless despite him saying, “You may feel a little pain.”

Nope. Not a feeling. Mainly my mind was somewhere in Scene 3 Take 5 with the nurses…oOoOoo…there, uh huh, a bit lower…yeah. Oooo…that’s the spot…

“OK we’re done,” he took off his gloves and places his instruments on the table.

Shocked and still halfway in Dreamland XXX, “WHA? FIH NISH AR? SOW FRAST AH?”

He just smiled and nods his head. He left the room to fill up some paperwork. And I’m wondering where the hell my tooth is. Scanning across the table I found this disgusting looking white thing, half of it in red, the other half, somewhat beige and the top part of it was ummm, plain disgusting, “Ish dat maine?” I tried to ask. The nurses just looked at me and passed my bag back to me. Screw it, they can keep it. The tooth fairy would puke if she sees that thing anyway. In fact, she might just make me pay her for coming all the way from Tootherland for nothing. So to hell with it. I left the room.

So now I’m at home, biting on cotton number 2 now. One of the nurses told me to change it every 30-minutes or so until it stops bleeding. Man, I’m so bored. There’s this niggling pain that’s really annoying. It’s not exactly painful, just annoying. Like Roby. You know he’s annoying but yet, he’s tolerable. Because he is funny when he is serious.

I think I need a painkiller now. Cheerio.

Run Them Down!

OK, the closer it gets to the appointment, the more I want to write. Maybe it does distract me and sidetrack the throbbing pain. Even though it's only for 5 - 10 minutes.

On the phone, as Vig was telling me about some root removal procedure he did that cost him a bomb, "I've done that on 2 of my teeth before dude," I told him, "And man was it pricey, thank god daddy paid."

"Woah, really? So you're like Transformers now lah?"

"I prefer to call it my Bling teeth," because it's now almost 70% silver.

Then he swiftly changed topic, as usual, "Eh cha, did you know Roby got surrounded by the Rempits last weekend?"

What?! Really? But knowing Roby - being immortal and all, and not wanted in both Heaven or Hell - he shouldn't have suffered much.

Based on what I know (or heard from the neh neh), it was yet another late night for him. So somewhere in Penang, Roby was on his way back when suddenly, a huge group of Rempits surrounded his car and well, taunted him and probably demanded that he step out. Of course, 1 vs 100000000 rempits is suicide. Even Roby was smart enough to work out the math. Just like any other desperate driver would do in such a situation. No matter how much you love your car - yes Xen, if you're reading this, you would have to do this if you should find yourself surrounded - your car is the only credible weapon you've got left. Make full use of it. Ram 'em over! But if it's a Kancil, then you're screwed. Not fast enough to out run them, not tough enough to ram them down.

From what I heard - albeit with some exaggerations - he slammed the reverse gear and started the battle. Slam those at the back, then hit D and slam those in front while dialing 9-9-1. I got sidetracked somewhere along here when neh neh was telling me this story. Next thing happen, I can't remember how, but even the Police was helpless. So in the end, they hop into his car and said, "Ah, langgar dia semua lah!"

Yes, aren't we so grateful to have such a police force? But hey, in their defense, they are always under-staff and under-paid. And there was so many of them, the Rempits could fill up a stadium. Let's face it, they are not Spartans.

That's the smartest thing he has ever done.
Now his car is at the Police HQ. All smashed up, again.





I'm so proud of you man.

Do I?

Before I head out to get me teeth pulled out. Am clearing out my work for the day and one last entry.

We've been discussing about stock photographs for weeks already. This client of ours requires at least 5. We've got none, a tight budget and very little time left. The big boss thought - of course - that it'd be a tad too pricey to purchase stock image, "I'm meeting with a professional photographer after this," he told me, "I'll ask him if he has any lifestyle-type pictures to sell."

My arms is resting on his table. I placed a piece of paper on it and clutch my hands together, "If not, we could get him to shoot some for us," I suggest. We all agreed. Now, it's finding the location for the shoot that is difficult.

Of course, being Penangites, they're NOT gonna hire talents for this. Instead, they're gonna use their own employees and maybe us too. Since he said we should be more photogenic than them as most designers are born cam-whores.

The person I'm working with, is having a tough time finding a suitable location for the shoot, "I am thinking where to take the shots for the parks, streams, fishing decks, cycling tracks and jogging path," he sighs.

Then out of the blue, this happens...

"By the way, are you a Christian? You look like one."



I do?

I Love Eating

Few more hours to go.

I tell you, having your teeth pulled out is like being on death-row. Well, maybe not exactly, but the process does feels like it. My last meal would be to have a sensational lunch before being confined to porridge. I know I won’t be enjoying my meals for the next few days. I won't be able to smoke (which is a good thing). So not looking forward to that. But it’s painfully aching now and it’s getting ridiculous to live with.

Hopefully I don’t vanish or downgrade into a 2-dimensional character for not eating proper for the next day or so. It’s not that I got a lot stored up anyway.

Man, am so gonna miss eating.

Well, at least this could be my moment to kick the bloody habit. Because after today, I’ll find out – for real – if the other 2 needs pulling. And if it does…man, I’d be screwed for the week.

Like super screwed.

I think I’ll go have another cigarette now to come to terms with.

3G Yo!

Yesterday, the kampung boys discovered something.
They discovered the wonders – and the somewhat overrated – 3G! That’d be me and Ryan. The we bit.

It took me days to sort out my 3G settings. And since I had not touch, upgrade or did anything to my SIM since I got it in 2001, I thought it would have to be upgraded. But thankfully not, and it works fine now.

Since I don’t have that many friends on 3G, I called the only I one I knew for sure has it.

Is it me or that when a video call connects, some cheesy 70s-trying-to-sound-futuristic type music will be played. Or is it just my phone?

Anyway, after not knowing what else to say or do – Ryan flashed his arse to Ian via the video call – we reminded Ian to do the backdoor. When the opportunity arises, “Do her ---!!!” we chanted.

Man, 3G is so much fun. But the audio quality is questionable. The video clarity is acceptable and the delay is of course – expected. All in all, I’d say it’s still in its early days. By 2008 or next would be sweet. Maybe we could be seeing holographic-star-wars-like communication by then.

How cool would that be?

Ryan thought it’d be sweet if, “Just imagine we could poke his stomach and watch it go ‘boing’,” he chuckles.

Mothers Know Best

They do, they really do.
Since it’s a public holiday and I got yet another Saturday off, I decided to take mom out to hunt for more anime movies from Studio Ghibli. She’s gotten really hooked since I bought the box-set – which has 5 discs containing 14 movies in ‘em – from Popular during their stock clearance.

I couldn’t finish watching it. I stopped at Disc 2. Because some were just too damn draggy, “You mean you’ve watched all?” I ask mom.

“Yeah, it helps me sleep better at night.”

Hmmm, that justifies it. But I have to do some justice, even if its boring…it’s beautifully boring. It seems more like a fusion of anime and art films. So even if it’s boring, there’s a lot of beautifully drawn stuff to see. To be inspired. Or fall asleep.

We arrived at One-Stop and proceeded to the 6th floor, where all the goods are. Or at least should be. But it wasn’t. Not a single shop on the 6th floor was open. None. But I did bump into Captain Gan, his lover Jasmon and the lamp post, Eugene Ong.

“Fuck lah, no DVDs!” he whines right after I slam my left palm on his chest to say hi.

As mom and I headed home, we felt…a huge sense of discontent. Something was unfulfilled. On the drive back, we decided to check out this place next to Phor Tay School in Bagan. Turns out, it’s a shopping bazaar run by a bunch of Thais. Call it, Little Thailand. Cos they all speak Thai, look Thai and play Thai music.

And did I say it’s super cheap there?

I let myself go and embrace the relapse. I was so gonna buy this black t-shirt with “The Beatles” written in gold. I so want it. But sadly, they only have size-M. But like I said, I so want it.

“Meng, you can’t fit in it, it’s too small lah,” says mom as she lifts the shirt up to my back and measure, “See, it’s a good inch short.”

“But, but…maybe it’s the same size as this shirt I’m wearing now,” refusing to lose. I want that shirt so bad.

“Haih, I’m telling you, it won’t fit.”

I can be quite stubborn. I went to look for that guy – seems to be like some boss or supervisor – for a second opinion. And also to ask for a size-L. If they had any in stock.

But they only have M. Bloody hell. This is discrimination. Malaysian’s are not that small! Come on, man. Reluctant to let go such a cool looking shirt, I went back to the section where the shirt was. I turn my head left-to-right and I took off my shirt to try it on.

“Jeez, this is TIGHT!” trying hard just to breathe. Looking every bit like Simon Cowell.

Then came the I-told-you-so-face from mom, “See!” Mother’s do know best, huh?

Even taking the shirt off required a somewhat monumental effort, but hey, I can do yoga, remember? So after a good 5 minutes, I manage to yoga my way out of it.

In the end, I only bought 2 pairs of boxers, a camouflage pants, and a cool shirt for Ian as a birthday present. And almost a Rolex. Oh come on! RM19 for a Rolex, who wouldn’t at least try it on just for kicks.

It didn’t make me feel like a million ringgit.




So I left it there.

1, 2, 3, Pull!

Toothache. Painful.

After rushing down, cursing at every street floaters and taking 20-minutes to painstakingly find a parking spot during the noon rush hour in Pulau Tikus. Which I manage to find one, with a faulty meter. A real blessing.

After the 30-minute wait, the nurse summons me into the room. Doctor said he won't cabut yet because, "It might just cause you more pain," he told me, in his most serious-looking-this-could-be-a-life-changing-procedure look, "Since the pain is on and off, if I should pull it out, it most definitely would cause even more discomfort." Because apparently it's not proper fucked yet. But it's fucked alright. Though not quite. But it's getting there.

More pain? Oh man, come on. It's almost the weekend. As if it isn't depressing enough, now I gotta deal with this? "What do you suggest doc?" I ask, hoping for a solution.

He pulls down his mask, takes a moment to himself, deep in thought, then snaps out of it, "Tell you what, I'll prescribe you some antibiotics. Come again in 3 days then we'll all three of it."

3?! YOU'RE PULLING OUT THREE? WHERE? WHY? "Umm, what?"

He told me that the one which is causing the pain, would be No. 1. The other 2 are the half grown wisdom tooth I have on the upper left and lower left that he suggest I have it pulled out as well. "If you don't do it, 6 months down the road it's gonna cause you great pain when it starts to grow again," cause there isn't actually any space left for them to grow. So it's kinda stuck. And it would be almost impossible to brush.

I left the clinic after spending barely 15-minutes inside, knowing that I gotta take a half-day leave on Monday to have my 3 wisdom tooth to pulled out. There goes my wisdom...



Man, Monday is so gonna suck.

Dear Jelly-man,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IAN!

Enlighten Me

This week, I read on the papers that:
Smokers are less likely to develop Parkinson's disease than people who do not use tobacco products. Because apparently -- and shockingly -- the protective effect of tobacco against the degenerative nerve disease has been observed for years but a University of California Los Angeles School of Public Health report said a new review of existing studies seems to confirm it, with long-term and current smokers at the lowest risk. Woooaahh...

This is like the '60s again.

They still have no bloody idea why. But one of the possibility is that carbon monoxide or other agents in tobacco smoke exert a protective effect and promote survival of brain neurons that produce dopamine, which allows muscles to move properly and is lacking in Parkinson's cases.

Well, at least that's one disease less to worry about.

Also...
This keeps getting better.
Fat people are less likely to die from heart attacks compared to their average-weight counterparts. Doctors suggest maybe, just maybe, their hearts have been precondition to withstand such punishment. As they, well, abuse it more often than the average-weight people. A research was conducted in the space of 3 years, and the results reveal something strange...and unexpected.

The death rate (via Heart Attack) for fat people is at 3.6% while the average-weight people aren't so lucky. Their death rate is 10%.



WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON MAN?

070707

Happy 07.07.07 everyone!

Alone

Here we go again.
For yet another blogging session just for the sake of it.

Well. Sort of. Seems I found myself alone at the office - at half pass 12. This almost never happens. So what better way to commemorate this other than blogging? Heh. I know what you are thinking Vig, and the answer is a no.

The boss got himself a brand-spanking new mobile phone from Samsung. It's those Ultra Slim Edition II. What bothers me was he got it for free. Like free. No upfront payment, no frills. Just sign up for the bloody plan and voula. A phone that looks like me.

DiGi is currently offering this package, where they give you a choice of 4 different Samsung phones if you sign up with their post-paid plan. Being a recovering shopoholic, I almost couldn't resist. I have - and always will be - a devoted Maxis user. Despite their crappy ads, degrading services and the ever mysterious "additional charges" you see on your bill but have no idea what the hell is it, they still have the best bloody coverage. Bloody hell.

But of late, it's getting umm, crappier and crappier. Like how I can't talk on the phone any longer than 5-7 minutes before getting cut off. Usually it just goes off. Sometimes it goes off on one side while the other side still can hear you. And of course, who can forget, the Darth Vader voice every now and then.

"M-E-N-G, A-R-E Y-O-U C-O-M-I-N-G H-O-M-E F-O-R D-I-N-N-E-R-?"

"Lord Vader?"

"I-T-S P-A-P-A L-A-H-!"

"YOU'RE MY FATHER?!"

Some time ago, JM and I were talking about getting a DiGi line, just because they have cooler, funnier ads. I'm not really sure what Maxis is doing with their ads and Celcom ads are just plain bullshit. That was a couple of months back. We still haven't registered a DiGi number. But with this new plan by DiGi, it is Time to change. And if I did, I'm only doing it for the phone. Because DiGi's coverage can be quite a joke at times. But heaven forbid.

Only credit card holders are eligible. Fucking cunts! Crap.

Yet again, maybe not. Could be a blessing in disguise. Why would I need 2 phones and 2 numbers? I'm not running some big time business and I'm not popular enough to have people calling me off the hook. Plus, I'm more of a Sony Ericsson type person. So I went to Lelong.com.my and checkout some cool Sony Ericsson deals. Found a few actually. It was cheap too! RM400+ for the clam-shell with reflective surface model. 1.3MP camera blah blah. Ohh dear god, help me.

OK, I realized. I sidetracked. I'm not buying. No. Even though I almost did. But I didn't. I think I'm recovering well.

I think I should concentrate harder to quit smoking.

Coming Out

Every Chinese New Year - my then beloved brand of smokes - Marlboro always release a series cool CNY cigarette boxes. Being a designer and a smoker, I collected them all. I mean come on, it is nice, no? I'd stash them all in my desk drawer, all properly aligned.

In 2002, Marlboro released their second series of CNY special edition boxes and off I go collecting all of them again. In total - including those from the previous year - I had 16 boxes altogether. Which my mom discovered while she was looking for a ruler.

Mother will always freak out, "MMMMEEEENNNGGG!!!!" she yelled, "WHO'S IS THIS??!"

I was cutting my toe nails near the computer table, "Ummm, they're mine,"

"YOU SMOKE AH?!"

At that time, I was 19, "Yeah mom, I smoke," I admit and immediately got paralyzed, "But, but I did not smoke all of those. Some are my friends'. I just took it from them to keep the box," I mean come on, I can't smoke 10 boxes in a day.

Of course, I would not get off the hook so easily. I faced the music. While my dad just remained at the couch, watching his CNN. He doesn't look pissed at all. In fact, the look on his face suggest, "I so saw that coming."

And since we were in such a confessing mood, I spill out more, "I also drink copious amounts of alcohol when there's a party or sometimes just for fun. On top of that, I've came home super drunk on so many occasions. Ask dad, he saw me once!"

Dad stood up and ran to the balcony. Dad knows me better than he wants me to know.

I think I almost gave my mom a heart-attack. It sounded like as if my everyday life evolves around smoking and drinking alcohol. Which it isn't. For the alcohol bit. Smoking yeah, everyday. Sigh. But I felt as a young adult, I should come clean.

Which is weird. Cos this year, after just having a stick, mom was knocking at my door to borrow some stationary. For some reason, when you're a designer, people just expect your room to be perpetually stocked with stationaries and art supplies, "What's that smell?" she asks.

"I just had a smoke." I answered and reached into my jeans pocket and took out the pack.

She held up my Mild Seven Lights pack, "You smoke?!"

"Err yeah? Didn't I told you that before?"

Dad shows up, peeking behind from my Mom's shoulders, "What's going on?"

I thought, why not, just in case Dad forgot too, "Dad, I smoke."

"Oh," and he walks away. Of course he remembers. Jeez.

After the lecture (again) mom advised me to quit and gave me a nasty guilt-trip. Like I've failed her as a son. But honestly, thru the course of my smoking life. I've always been in and out of the quitting game. To the point I realize, quitting is easy. Very easy in fact. Most people think it's the hardest thing to do. But it really isn't if you think about it. All you do is stop buying, throw all your lighters away and don't smoke.

However, the real hard part is how you handle the relapse.
As most people aren't prepared for this. That in most cases, the cravings will never entirely go away, it will always resurface now and then. No matter how many years you've stop. And that there's always, always an excuse to light up. If there isn't, you'd make one up anyway.

I need to learn how to deal with that. The relapse.