dear mr & mrs bloggie…
It was father’s birthday. We ate. Bali Thai was our chosen restaurant once again.
The End.
And I am feeling so shitty right now. As you can see from my recent pictures, my photos are plagued with me with super thick make-up. Urgh!
Minah here is undergoing serious treatment on the face. And I die die don’t wanna go out of the house scaring the lights off everyone hence I’m trying to cover up every inch of pimple with foundation and powder. So please for the sake of love and humanity, be extra nice to me. PMS aint helping one bit, God bless PMS.
Yea, eyebags wanted some attention too so alas to panda-looking me.
I need a gun right now.
cinta
fasyalba
Labels: i feel shitty
dear mr & mrs bloggie….
SO the plan was to spend time with each other and see how things would go. Plan excuted. Fail, no, but successful was far from it.
Because I was all excited to meet him, we exchanged messages while I was in the cab. Lovely. Giddy like a teenage schoolgirl I was. Upon meet up, blastedly, his first words were “ Wah, new top and jacket seh…. Eh asal make-up dier macam hantu?”
Ahhh….. just like old times. He just couldn’t let me go without a criticism. And I asked myself how come I still love him. Blah, I know, so rhetorical, even for me. -_-
The works of a date thereafter, movie and lunch included, and as the night proceeded, an argument soon sparked. Again, same old same old.
Tears and some mean words later, he gave me the old dinosaur hug and we back to being a sickening lovey dovey couple, or date, whatever makes the world go round.
I miss this. He brings out the evil in me, if there such be.
Next day, he fetched me from the airport. The plan: To have dinner and then, have me a glass of Shirley Temple while listening to the band at Acid Bar.
T’was not to be, evidently. Met up with the cousins along with Khai and Hafiz O at Clarke Quay and a can of coke later (for me and Cuz Nur of course, the rest had chilled beer) we were laughing away like our lives depended on it.
With my so dressed-down-attire, we decided to pay China One a visit, only because some of us had itchy backsides. And like the norm, “the rest goes without saying”. Yea, I’m cool like that.
I so wanna rock and roll with my cousins again. I love.
cinta
fasyalbaLabels: i feel guilty.
dearest
Lin
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Aisha
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Raudah
Deena
Eera
Ayu
Wawa
Beauillusion and
mr & mrs bloggie....
I am so touched, no words could describe it. I really thank you for the well-wishes and happy tags but for now, Juls and I are well….. dating dating only. This time he’s the one playing hard to get. I am a sucker for games though. We'll see how far my patience can go aye.
He’s an idiot. Remind me again why I'm not letting this one go that easily.
And no, we’re not together. What can I do… quit my job to please him? No way.
Ho well. Only time will determine… For now, I dunnolah.
cinta
fasyalba
Labels: i feel confused.
dear mr & mrs bloggie….
It has been a year since MJ, or should I say Juls, (the same old bugger himself) and I broke up. We’ve been dating around, misbehaving, toying with people’s feelings only to realize we cannot live without each other. Revolting, I agree. That's the way we work.
I heard stories about him that would make my bile freeze and I reckon my soap opera drama was none the wiser. I wouldn’t say I’m proud per se but hey, tit for tat.
Because I wanted a clean start, (one year is enough for me to misbehave, aye?) I decided I ought to quit this game and settle down. Also, both his family and mine were rooting for us to get back together. Aha, problem solved there.
Bare in mind now I have or tried real hard to dismiss the guys in my life for that twit. Still skeptic over the idea of another commitment, I pushed all negative thoughts aside to be with him. Fragile as the heart might seem, I opened it up again all in the name of the 4-bloody letter word. Yea, we even discussed about marriage. Surprise surprise.
So how come suddenly he tells me out of nowhere that it is over between us? That he is insecure of our status?! Why would my salary be an issue now, a barrier so to speak? I thought of all people, he’d be the one whooping for joy. Bullocks.
He had seen me when I was at my best, and certainly at my very worst. Back when I was a student, so broke and poor were we that we had to share money for a pack of cigarettes, yea sometimes we shared a packet of beehoon too.
I remembered when I first got to know him, he wanted to sell his handphone to bring me watch ‘Catwoman’. I had a boyfriend then mind you. If not for my nephew, Bani, (his good friend by the way) I wouldn’t know. I dunno bout you guys, but sod it, the thought of him sacrificing his high tech hp had me like melted butter. Shame on me.
We had saved every cent to buy expensive gifts for one another. Gucci became our obsession then. He bought me the bag, I got him that effing overpriced pair of shoes. And the lil gadgets in between. I was supporting myself with school and he was in NS hey. But we were too over the moon to care. Everything I do, I do it for you.
He gave me money, when I first started my career in this line, so I could buy my make-up stuff because I only had enough money for transport. He told me not to give up and to do well. “You must soar ok Kuku…”
He quit soccer for that period of time because I persuaded him to get a diploma. He did it more for me than anything else. I am still so proud of him, I can't even parse it to a syllable. And true to his character, he is now taking his car license to impress me fat me.
But all this time what he failed to see was I loved him for loving me, and being there for me when no one would. It was not the gifts that made me stick to him, it was the pain he went through to get me what I wanted. Come on, he worked in Banquet to sell kuih that paid him $3.50 per hour so he could buy me a S$1.2k bag. You do the math.
I’m telling you now mr & mrs bloggie, writing it out here just doesn’t come close to the mark, but I hope that you would at least have an idea.
I needed a year break to see what I wanted in life and you know what, he was there right in front of me. It’s just a shame both of us are love juveniles, we ended up cheating on each other. Over and over and over again. Sick bastards, we.
So please, for the love of sanity, can somebody shoot us already?
I am not rich Zulkifly Kamal, neither am I that high-maintenance a woman. I still am the grumpy, insecure girl who stamps her feet to get you to listen to her. That annoying girl you fell in love with, ya, I'm here. Present. Just that this time, that ignorant girl has extra money in her account. And you always make me happy, more oft than not. Don't doubt us please. Let money come and go. I rather be poor with you, than be rich with someone else. Like you said all these years…. “ Don’t care about the weather, as long as we’re together.” Remember or not Juls?
I can take rejection the same as the next girl so I guess if we're not meant to be, we're just not meant to be. Nevertheless, I still love you, then and now. Nothing can change that fact Mr Juls. Gwen sang it herself, "After all that we've been through, I know we're cool..."
My love would demand no less.
I love you bodoh.
cinta
fasyalba Labels: i feel unloved.
dear mr & mrs bloggie…
Ever since I was young, I wanted to be a teacher. I thought I have what it takes; the passion for teaching that’s, if not more. No doubt, the love for children was far from it. So tonight my skill was put to the test.
“Kak Caca, can you teach me malay spelling later?” Fiqri asked me meekly.
On the bed sister, Fiqri and I sat. Minutes later, my prettyboy was seen crying. His long lashes were wet with tears. Tears that were caused by me. Me for crying out loud! Me who was always giving in to his every wimp and fancy. Me who sayang sayang him!
And to think my sister was known to be the fiercest teacher in her school, I assumed I was the contrary. It was not to be evidently. Gahh… I’m always the nice one god love a duck!
Ok, so I raised my voice a bit, just a tad aye. I was patient, mind you. I asserted a bit of sternness to make him remember better. I did it for the best of reasons. And it was malay spelling. You cannot do better than your own mother tongue. Distinction doesn’t drop from the sky. Doesn’t mean it’s remotely impossible now. Piece of shortcake.
I dreaded homework because Mother used to beat me when I was younger. Bloody “Wahid and Ahmad” I couldn’t read out and what have you, a spanking like no other from the angel herself.
I know what pressure is. I grow up with pressure. Pressure has its boons. You just have to suffer some. With a single mother then, you just cannot afford (literally too sometimes) to do badly in school. But if not for the beatings and scolding, I wouldn’t get as far as a diploma. And before you go on by saying “Only?” let’s not forget that I have to fully support myself to even get that piece of cert from SP. SHeesh.
Fiqri’s lucky violence will not be inculcated as far as his learning go. So he has it good. But that didn’t stop him from merajok-ing with me lah. The nerve of that boy! Father pacified him and asked him to apologize to teacher here.
He didn’t budge one bit. He sulked somemore, with that cute pout of his, and a forlorn look that begged to be comforted and eyes… those eyes… like a docile kitten pleading to be loved…. ANYWAY... In the end, finally he wanna meow meow to me again. Tau takot.
Bleurgh.
I realize that maybe I’m not born to be a teacher after all. And sadly, the feeling hurts. Pray, what EXACTLY am I born to do then?
*and she wonders*
cinta
fasyalba
Labels: i feel sad.
“FARAH FASYA, don’t tell me you just woke up wor! I meeting Gladis at 3 o’clock. You better don’t be late!!!”
dear mr & mrs bloggie…
As usual, I was fashionably late. Thirty minutes past four had me standing outside Paragon, displaying my best sunniest smile to batchmates, Kenny and Glad while I silently pray for my life to be spared. They can be vicious when they want to and Kenny’s bitchfit is downright scary. Understatement people.... an understatement….. Ha-ha. *hugs my sleeping partner and winks winks mentel-ly at him*
Too bad they love this minah here, known to all for giving ‘janji melayu’. But they love me all the same. Right guys? *fakes a laugh for distraction*
I truly had an awesome time. I always do. Tea time with them is forever and a week delightful, laughing gas not required I can assure you. Not to say I am the funniest but well, I’d like to think I am so there. Love me tender guys.
It’s hard for us three to meet on a daily basis because our schedules clash but I can tell you this much, every second spent was godsent. I am not kidding you. Needless to say, they will be here in my heart for awhile, I wouldn't want anything to change. Let this be my oath guys. (Touched or not Kenny?)
So avid reader cum sleeping partner, I promise you this; SHOULD you decide to act macho and quit this job, we’ll still have tea together and buy each other stuff. I will forever be your friend with benefits. (Forgive my pun there.)
Much love.
MJ fetched me hours later and soon, batchmates and I parted ways. With a glass of Shirley Temple next, date and I were seen seated at Acid Bar, just enjoying our moment together and listening to the acoustic rhythms of Flyz, or so he was called. Yea, of all the names in the world, what were the odds? -_-
It was a wonderful date. Because we were the only customers, alongside two more, the singer was practically dedicating love songs to us. How very apropos. It was a nice feeling to be loved and the candles illuminating the room was a nice touch to set the mood. Was I in love? Ahhh… Don’t you just? Ha.
To end the night, we had seafood with my Cuz Ctea and fiancé Hafiz O. A great finale if I may say so myself. Unnecessary details I’m sure this is but let this be penned down please. Just because aye.
And there you have it ladies and gentlemen. A simple day spent by a 23 year old lady who is in love with strawberry shortcakes.
The End.
cinta
fasyalba Labels: i feel like eating a strawberry shortcake.
“You see, our lives are not that glamorous, lots of us drink too much, we all socialize on week nights because weekends off are practically unheard of….”
dear mr & mrs bloggie….
4:50am saw the plane touching down, god bless the earlier-than-the-scheduled-arrival-time.
Boy, was I eager to get home and wake my mother up to give her a hug.
Imagine my delight when I got into the house and saw my lil devil sleeping peacefully on the bed. Yes, looking at ‘em photos, some of you might have figured out by now that the mentioned is none other than my pretty boy, Fiqri, whom I just got to know just now, is officially staying with us, my room at that. My joy, truly. Please, do picture it.
Mother prepared me a big breakfast and we did a lil catching up. Ahhh…. Home sweet home. Love mother love. With a full stomach, the shame! I slept throughout the day, fatigue setting in quite mercilessly. It was a long day, so to speak. I was awakened hours later by a pair of crinkly eyes and a cheeky smile to accompany that lovely face.
A pleasant treat you might say. With him seated on my bed, greeting me while I lay down there like a deadweight and hearing my sister said “ He kept asking for Kak Caca” was the cream of the crop, (or shortcake) to brighten up my groggy day.
As you can see from the pictures above, he did a lil posing, with no help from sister and I (he’s a true born model) showing off his new clothes that sister had bought.
I was a tad bummed initially since sister didn’t tell me he’d be moving in that early. I would’ve definitely spent a few of my kachings to shop in LA for his stuff. I was thinking Polo Raulph Lauren for kids. They were having Sale, mind you. Urgh, he would’ve looked so cute in one.
Yea yea I’m in love. Bite me.
Syukur Alhamdulilah that sister managed to adopt him. I am one happy god-auntie! And he's my new kitten. I'll save that for another day. Heh.
So that’s the Fiqri story.
Another subject fit for discussion that made me in high spirits today came from a mail addressed to Nurfarah Fasya.
My very first online purchase! And it came in the form of a book. Ya uh! I finally broke ANOTHER virginity of mine. (Pun intended for laughing purposes so excuse me if it didn’t cater to your sense of humor)
La di da.
My greatest gratitude to Mya for selling me the book and had me laughing aloud like a goon while mother gave me a ‘my-daughter’s-retarded’ look from afar as I started on the first page.. Worth every penny this one. Her witty lines mirrored my very sentiments. An instant connection between author and yours truly.
A must read. Kan Mya kan.
Ack… Ok, whatever Farah.
Unless you wanna roll your eyes from clockwise to anti-clockwise direction, I reckon I bid my leave now. And to resume with my reading of course.
Till my next strawberry shortcake story!
cinta
fasyalba
Labels: i feel happy.
