Of Happiness and Valiums

Today I’ll give you guys a treat… But first you have to endure some boring re-telling of my mundane life which I pretend to be oh-so-super-exciting like every other self-proclaimed ‘blogger’.

I stayed over at Izyan’s house/mini-mansion/rustic resort last weekend. Three gazebos, a fishing pond, vast space, eight Persian cats and much, much more. I should take pictures next time.

Saturday, we shopped at Berjaya Times Square, Sungei Wang, Lowyat and Pavillion. The purpose?

TO BUY GIRLZ CLOTHES. YOU HEARD ME, SISTAH *SNAPS FINGERS*. (Of course, we didn’t shop for clothes in Lowyat… my feet just started moving by itself to that safe-haven cursed building).

As a favour to Nurisya, I’ll probably take pictures of myself in them but that’s probably after I learn lock-picking to steal from your nearby Sony electronics/gadgets store.

Oh, and meet Balqis:

…I don’t know why she’s making that face either. It’s quite embarras… On second thought, who is that stranger to the far right?!

To be completely honest, I didn’t enjoy clothes shopping. It felt forced. I didn’t have much of an opinion about any of the clothes, nor did it compel me to have a preference. The purpose of these two was to stop me from buying clothes for guys. Apparently, I can’t tell the difference in gender clothings.

Additionally, it was not until the 2nd hour when my mind started conjuring images of piled female clothes, a tank of gasoline and a lighter.

An improvement, I say. :D

Now for the treat. Guess what Izyan normally does on weekends?

She bakes. (OH WOW, REALLY AZIEMAH? FROM ALL THOSE PICTURES, I COULD HARDLY TELL OMGZORZ!)

In fact, she’s even running a business. What’s impressive is, the whole thing was her idea and it’s quite profitable and is currently amassing popularity.

Her niche is in baking cupcakes. Accordingly, she uses a vanilla/chocolate cake recipe. Even her icing has a vanilla essence to it, with a zesty aftertaste. It’s not sweet and very light, and that’s why I actually ate whole spoonfuls of it before she caught me doing so. The designs are absolutely charming, too:

But what I think is ingenious is the part where she commercialises it as the perfect birthday surprise, where the customers select the design:

And it’s cheap! She told me that she went around surveying the prices of others, and was appalled and how steeply priced they were.

Here’s the pricing extract from her website (Her sister runs the website, but Izyan actually has the skillz):

Cupcakes
small
Vanilla – RM0.70/piece or RM29/box
Chocolate – RM0.80/piece or RM33/box

small sized cupcakes – minimum order 42 pieces or 1 box

big
Vanilla – RM1.20/piece or RM36/box
Chocolate – RM1.30/piece or RM39/box
Cookies and Cream – RM1.30/piece or RM39/box
Chocolate Mud – RM1.50/piece or RM45/box (no change in pricing)
Egg Free Chocolate – RM1.50/piece or RM45/box (no change in pricing)

I’m blogging about this not to help her advertise or anything (I don’t think it’s possible under the amount of traffic I get anyway) since as things are now, she doesn’t seem to need any help. It’s because I’m very impressed at the affordable price she sets. I’m definitely ordering some for my Mak Long for her birthday.

Another thing, it’s a pity that most of these designs were from the earlier batch, when she was not as skilled. Her recent ones are much more impressive, neater and more creative. She has yet to upload these so maybe I’ll show them to you when she does.

Oh, and I saved the best for last:

Blueberry Cheese Tarts <3.

Yesterday, I actually helped her bake 140 of these in a night! I didn’t mind though, because I was paid for in cheese tarts. What’s amazing is the crust is deliciously edible by itself. The base is very thin, so she call fill in generous amount of cheese fillings, and the sides are very thick, so they’re not crumbly and eating it doesn’t result in a mess. She even uses expensive cheese as the main ingredient, so I was wondering if she was making a profit when she set the price at RM1.20 per piece (Standard price I’ve seen is around RM2 – RM3 and you don’t even know the quality of the ingredients)

Now I can’t decide which to get for my Mak Long.

To tell you the truth, we didn’t help Izyan much during our stay. Like little kids, she gave us rejected cupcakes and we played with the multi-coloured icings and designed our own god awful monstrosities amateur designed cupcakes. On Sunday, before we left for UiTM, we made a friends-forever cupcake.

Lame as hell.

(But awfully pretty!)

I’ve finally settled myself in UiTM and I can finally call myself an ACCA student. That is, if the results that come out in August shows that I didn’t fail any papers. Things were hectic the first week and all, but I’m just bummed I’m not roommates with Izyan anymore.

Who else am I going to hug bigass adverts showcasing cancer-ladled food products with?

In fact, we’re in different colleges. I’m now staying in Melati in which I’m dependent on either Rapid KL or the internal UiTM bus to get me to class. I’m ecstatically spending the mornings missing at least 3 buses because in Malaysia, queuing up for the bus apparently gives you malevolent cancer on vital organs and increases the chances of your uncle’s cousin’s husband being a sodomizing homosexual. I’m also thrilled by the pungent smell of rotten carcass and cheap Chow Kit generic perfumes that waft gently from everyone’s armpits.

Basically, after evening classes, I’d just hang at Izyan’s room because I still consider her my best friend, and, well, because she has lots of junk food. Our friendship is strengthened by the amount of junk food I get to swipe from her stash. This is also to avoid the massive human traffic at the bus stop. It’s simple math, really. It’s a choice between;

a) Half an hour of damning your ability to smell peoples’ stained armpits, overhearing conversations of ‘Gedik‘ this, ‘Tau takper‘ that, missing three buses and making it on the fourth overflowing one in which I get to molest some pretty nice girls you witness potential harassment lawsuits right before your eyes, or;

b) Steadily decreasing Izyan’s weekly ration of junk food.

Oh by golly gee. Whichever should I choose.

I didn’t, however, appreciate the point in which she basically called me a retard when I visited her room for the first time.

“You didn’t bring any soap or shampoo?!”

“Nope.”

“Seriously? Then how are you going to shower and all?”

“I dunno. Don’t really care. Borrow someone’s soap and shampoo, maybe?”

“That’s all you didn’t bring, right? Then you can have some of mine.”

“That’s nice… but I also didn’t bring toothbrush, toothpaste, pants (except for the one I’m wearing) and I only have about two shirts for class.”

“What the hell…”

“I couldn’t bring too many bags, so I only brought necessary items.”

“Those things ARE necessary items!”

“They’re luxury items to me.”

“…Then what exactly did you bring?”

“My laptop, burner, IDE to USB cable, harddisk, Zune player, blank DVD+Rs, mouse, laptop cooler… and oh, a towel and bed sheets.” :D

“Oh wow, You remembered to bring bed sheets, you idiot? I’m amazed.”

“Dude I’m not THAT stupid. I even brought the matching pillow sheets.”

“And did you remember to bring the pillows?”

“…OH SHIT.”

There you have it. Main reason why Aziemah has been using a folded towel as her pillow.

To be honest with myself though, I’m starting to enjoy myself here. I’m pretty sure I didn’t inhale or inject any strong narcotics into my bodily fluids to have me experiencing actual joy, so it must be because I’m temporarily insane.

How often do you get random strangers coming up to you, and asking those common questions that we’re obliged, due to social niceties, to answer?

“Excuse me, how do you get to this location?”

“Do you have the time, please?”

“Sorry but, do you have change for a dollar?”

And my personal favourite;

“Hi. Are you a girl or a guy? My friend here thinks you’re a girl and I’m betting otherwise. You’re a guy, right?”

This is when my self confidence starts to waver and I start wondering just how many piggy banks I have to smash to pay-off silicone implants.

Though as far as random strangers go, it’s less insulting than when relatives mistake you for your brother. Before I start off on my whining inner-reflective rant, let me clarify something;

I do not look like my brother. You shall find my justification in Exhibit A:

Can you deny such irrefutable logic, crumbling mortals?

And Exhibit B;

On the right, you may witness über cuteness and shall be saturated with the mystical force generally known as kyaaaa-ness whereas on your left, you may wonder what grand misfortune has befallen this unfortunate mortal, uh, judge for yourself.

I have come to acknowledge that the crux of the problem lies in the way I dress myself. This knowledge is due to having four out of five acquaintances enthusiastically telling me such dire information that before this has been withheld only by geniuses in fields of brain surgery and nuclear science. They have, matter-of-factly, imparted said wisdom by sharing with me a powerful secret;

“When you dress like a boy… people can sometimes think you’re… a boy!!”

No shit, Einstein. How old are you, nineteen? Does your age reflect how many times you were drop on the head as a baby?

Six years, people.

Six.

That’s how long I’ve endured annoying remarks on my dressing style. How long I’ve had to sit and listen to people giving suggestions and advice on becoming more feminine, how to sound more demure and how to walk elegantly.

If I feel like arching my back and giving people the impression that I intend to poke their eyes out with a super-nipple-attack while jutting my ass out to refine my ability in hip dislocation, I’ll solicit your advice, thanks.

That’s also six years of birthdays in which I receive at least a feminine garb, gaudy accessories or a pink… something. Which were, by the way, delightfully received by my other friends for their birthdays. Why, I’ve always wanted something to cut my cost on future birthday present purchases! How could you have ever known?

But then, after six years of incorrigible dressing habits, six years of mentally committing acts of unspeakable nature on ass-jutting, nipple-eye-attack individuals and six years of mastering the suitable facial expression and intonation for ‘What, really? A girl should actually dress like a girl?! Wow do I give a fuck!’, I’m finally revamping my wardrobe.

Don’t think this is thanks to those that have continually assaulted my mental health with their incessant ramblings and vast knowledge on dressing like you’re;

a) Dressing in the dark

b) Colour blind

c) A hooker; and

d) A colour-blind hooker dressing in the dark.

This is only due to the person whose good opinion matters to me. When it boils down to it, I guess what my Mak Long says makes a lot of sense. It’s time for a change.

When you mull it over, it’s not normal for a nineteen year old girl to only own;

a) Shirts at least two sizes too big, with two thirds belonging to her brother and the remaining ones purchased at least five years ago / were gifts from others.

b) Pants belonging to god-knows-who (Dear god-knows-who… thanks for all the pants! :D).

c) Shoes salvaged from the storeroom or were gifts from her bargain-hunting sister.

d) Freebie caps, wallet and socks as a gift from her aunt, and two watches that were stolen borrowed from her brother.

I don’t even know whose towel I’m using and I really hope both my sisters never realise they’re missing a significant number of Baju Kurungs…

To sum it up… total amount I spend on clothes or accessories annually: RM0.00.

I can’t say it’s totally my fault. When you’re talking about stylish designs, CPU casings have me salivating and not the latest Jimmy Choo’s. The only thing I’m interested in when going into shoe stores is the realisation that high heels are the progenies of Lucifer’s minions (The length of the heels is proportionate to the amount of condensed evil imbued in your soul) and how when shopping for clothes, females lose about three quarters of their cerebral control (Oh my god! I can’t decide to choose either this top that looks no different from the other one #1 or this top that looks no different from the other one #2!).

And not to say I’m a spendthrift or anything. Last year, I burnt a hole in my pocket the size of Pamela’s beach balls to get new RAM sticks, few SoundBlaster audio cards, Phillips headphones, a Belkin modem, at least 400 DVD+Rs and many other random computer paraphernalia. Recently, I got a 120GB laptop harddisk, a 500GB desktop harddisk, a 30GB Zune video player and 200 more DVD+Rs. I’m also daydreaming about building a computer from scratch (9800GTX… quad core processor… piano black casing… 22” widescreen monitor… *drools*…) once I’ve settled my accommodation problems, getting better Phillips headphones and a DivX playable DVD player and stereo set by the end of this year.

<daydreaming mode> When I start working and when I’ve finally amassed enough of zee moolah… I’m gonna get a 40” LCD TV… home theatre set… super computer with high-end rig… Blu-Ray player… Game consoles… Portable DVD player… a super ergonomic swivel chair… a chicken… </daydreaming mode>

…

Damnit. Must find rich, dying husband with a flexible will. Work hard and earn all those through honest blood, sweat and tears!

Money’s definitely gonna be a problem. Unless I’m a particular multi-billion dollar business magnet with a limp animal on my head and a last name that rhymes with Hump, I’m not going to be able to afford the stuff I really want anymore. The only reason I can afford one expensive item is because I don’t spend on several cheap ones. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

Let’s set a month-end resolution. By the end of this month, I’d have at least two (cheap) f… fem… femi… famine… feminine shirts and steal borrow p.. p.. pur… purge… purchase… something pretty and flower-ish for my feet. I promise this to you, Mak Long!

…Looks like it’s not going to be easy though. Lord please have mercy on me. I shall pour my heart out for this new project and keep focu—

Hey look the latest Asus Maximus II Formula series motherboard is out!