In conjunction with Taylor Swift's annoying 22 hit song, here are 22 annoying things that I have graciously listed down.
1. Body odour in public transportation. If you're not going to take a shower in the morning, you're most definitely not welcomed on public transportation.
2. Excessively negative people. And it's worst if it's attention seeking. Like I would gladly push you off a cliff to end your "misery".
3. Parents who bring babies to movie theaters thinking that the loud sound system would not startle their baby and making them wail. Throughout the movie. Cause common sense is overrated.
4. Sales assistants who say, "It's all there". Well if I found what I wanted, I wouldn't be asking you in the first place would I?
5. Wet cutleries at foodcourts. Is my dish more delicious with a generous sprinkle of tap water or what?
6. People who jut their legs on the seat in front of them. I'm not interested in a free back rub thank you very fucking much.
7. Faulty elevators. Why? Why? Why? I pay my taxes. I have every right to be a selfish lazy bastard if I want to.
8. Soup served cold. Reheat and repeat please thank you very much.
9. Persistent flyer distributors. Stop following me, I am not interested in a $38 Thai body massage.
10. ATMs only capable of dispensing $50 notes. The death of me.
11. People who wear glasses without the lenses. Hello? Stupidity also got limit okay?
12. Beliebers.
13. Mediacorp Channel 5. I know it's a free to air channel but we've seen Con Air and Face Off on your channel a grand total of 897215309827314576 times.
14. Taxis that don't accept NETS as a form of payment. GET ON WITH THE PROGRAM.
15. Starbucks on weekdays. If I had wanted to see a whole lot of people studying, I would go to a library. Fuck off.
16. The Last Page on 8Days. Uninspiring, unfunny and absolutely unreadable.
17. Unresponsive EZLINK card readers.
18. Homework. But then again I'm Malay and we're naturally lazy.
19. Jennifer Aniston.
20. Weak Public Wifi. Nothing sets me off than being on Wifi weaker than Amanda Byne's level of sanity.
21. Price tags that don't peel off clearly.
22. The audience in every of The Ellen DeGenerees show. Were they fed with ecstasy before the show or what? Ridiculously happy people are very dodgy.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Halloween Horror Night
To be honest, I've never thought highly of the Halloween Horror Night in Sentosa's Universal Studios (3rd year running now) and was more than ready to dismiss it as another run of the mill costume party, albeit with a giganormous budget and an elaborate publicity campaign.
So off I went, on the 12th of October 2013 (and that too upon much coercing and incessant begging from Star, Melanie and Steve) to the Halloween Horror Night 2013 at the Universal Studios, Singapore (armed with an express ticket of course at an additional sixty bucks because I wasn't interested to wait for hours to get inside a fucking haunted house).
Let's talk about the Haunted Trails. This area is filled with talents (and not so talented) dressed up as ghosts and ghouls and their main job is to scare the crap out of visitors and to indiscriminately be in hundreds of photos taken from and with ticket buyers.
Some were really into character and tried their level best to scare people and some are generally bad "actors", just writhing meekly in corners.
"In five minutes, I can writhe better while being tied up in bed and with my eyes closed than these girls can in their entire lives," Star said at one point, loudly to one of the poor girls at the entrance of the first Haunted Trail. She was dressed as this bloodied Victorian vampire.
First up was Vampires and I groaned and rolled my eyes. See, I grew up with an insufferable fear for Pocongs, Pontianaks, Toyols, Hantu Teteks, Hantu Galas, Pelesits, Penunggus, Hantu Rayas, Penanggals and the likes of it.
Vampires? Not so much. It has and will always be a Western concept for me. And in truth, they don't scare me at all. Show me a bloodsucking vampire and I'll show you a Malay housewife who sucks more than her husband's blood; and that too on a daily basis.
The next trail was The Covenant Of Evil, or something like that and it was filled with witches and shamans and again, boring. The only way I can be reduced to tears is if there is a Bomoh somewhere performing a real exorcism right there in front of everyone. Hey, go big or go home.
There was also a Haunted Jungle trail filled with sweaty bare bodied men posing as some kind of animal spirit and Steve was like, "Oooh, I would lick that sweaty body dry" and that that pretty much sums up the level of sex, I mean, scariness that trail had to offer.
Never change Steve, never change.
The last trail we went was filled with Pocongs (wrapped corpse ghosts) and Pontianaks (female ghosts who dies during childbirth) and it was a feeble homage to the Asian folklore and I was like, "Okay, now we're talking". There is something about coming face to face with the horror that you grew up with that really hits home.
I've always been terrified (and make no qualms or effort to conceal that fact) of Pocongs. It is possibly the only type of ghost that I am terrified of. I have no idea why but for some reason, it just scares the shit out of me.
And so Steve and I, hand in hand (please bear in mind that these are tow fully grown man holding each other's hands in public), walked slowly into the trail.
There were about 8 to 10 of these Pocongs lined by the side of the bridge and in the darkness of the night, we couldn't tell which is real and which is just a mannequin. About 20 people have walked past them in front of us and after three minutes to no movement, we both concluded that those were in fact, just mannequins. I mean, which talent in their right mind would want to be wrapped from head to toe throughout the entire night?
And then three of the Pocongs hopped.
"Fuccccccccckkkkkkk!!!!!! It moved! It moved! It moved! It moved!" I kept screaming and running; Steve equally hysterical. Star and Melissa were nowhere to be found and when we stumbled upon them about 50 metres ahead, hand in hand, Star sharply said, "You look like to gay men running away from a Catholic clergyman with a machete in his hand. Stop embarrassing me!"
"The Pocongs moved, it hopped! It was real!" Steve spoke between breaths, still clutching my hand.
"Shut up faggots," Melanie hushed.
The rest of the night was more fun because after that damn Pocong incident, Steve and I became jumpy with every passing moment and the Haunted House became an abyss of "Stop it!", "Oh my god!", "Fuck you!", "No!" and god knows how many shrieks and screams. Many times I found myself screaming at random staffs just working there as ushers in The Haunted Houses.
All while holding Steve's hands.
Halfway through the third Haunted House Melanie said, "Let's just go for the rides. I'm tired of you two ass lickers screaming at everything and anything!"
So off I went, on the 12th of October 2013 (and that too upon much coercing and incessant begging from Star, Melanie and Steve) to the Halloween Horror Night 2013 at the Universal Studios, Singapore (armed with an express ticket of course at an additional sixty bucks because I wasn't interested to wait for hours to get inside a fucking haunted house).
Let's talk about the Haunted Trails. This area is filled with talents (and not so talented) dressed up as ghosts and ghouls and their main job is to scare the crap out of visitors and to indiscriminately be in hundreds of photos taken from and with ticket buyers.
Some were really into character and tried their level best to scare people and some are generally bad "actors", just writhing meekly in corners.
"In five minutes, I can writhe better while being tied up in bed and with my eyes closed than these girls can in their entire lives," Star said at one point, loudly to one of the poor girls at the entrance of the first Haunted Trail. She was dressed as this bloodied Victorian vampire.
First up was Vampires and I groaned and rolled my eyes. See, I grew up with an insufferable fear for Pocongs, Pontianaks, Toyols, Hantu Teteks, Hantu Galas, Pelesits, Penunggus, Hantu Rayas, Penanggals and the likes of it.
Vampires? Not so much. It has and will always be a Western concept for me. And in truth, they don't scare me at all. Show me a bloodsucking vampire and I'll show you a Malay housewife who sucks more than her husband's blood; and that too on a daily basis.
The next trail was The Covenant Of Evil, or something like that and it was filled with witches and shamans and again, boring. The only way I can be reduced to tears is if there is a Bomoh somewhere performing a real exorcism right there in front of everyone. Hey, go big or go home.
There was also a Haunted Jungle trail filled with sweaty bare bodied men posing as some kind of animal spirit and Steve was like, "Oooh, I would lick that sweaty body dry" and that that pretty much sums up the level of sex, I mean, scariness that trail had to offer.
Never change Steve, never change.
The last trail we went was filled with Pocongs (wrapped corpse ghosts) and Pontianaks (female ghosts who dies during childbirth) and it was a feeble homage to the Asian folklore and I was like, "Okay, now we're talking". There is something about coming face to face with the horror that you grew up with that really hits home.
I've always been terrified (and make no qualms or effort to conceal that fact) of Pocongs. It is possibly the only type of ghost that I am terrified of. I have no idea why but for some reason, it just scares the shit out of me.
And so Steve and I, hand in hand (please bear in mind that these are tow fully grown man holding each other's hands in public), walked slowly into the trail.
There were about 8 to 10 of these Pocongs lined by the side of the bridge and in the darkness of the night, we couldn't tell which is real and which is just a mannequin. About 20 people have walked past them in front of us and after three minutes to no movement, we both concluded that those were in fact, just mannequins. I mean, which talent in their right mind would want to be wrapped from head to toe throughout the entire night?
And then three of the Pocongs hopped.
"Fuccccccccckkkkkkk!!!!!! It moved! It moved! It moved! It moved!" I kept screaming and running; Steve equally hysterical. Star and Melissa were nowhere to be found and when we stumbled upon them about 50 metres ahead, hand in hand, Star sharply said, "You look like to gay men running away from a Catholic clergyman with a machete in his hand. Stop embarrassing me!"
"The Pocongs moved, it hopped! It was real!" Steve spoke between breaths, still clutching my hand.
"Shut up faggots," Melanie hushed.
The rest of the night was more fun because after that damn Pocong incident, Steve and I became jumpy with every passing moment and the Haunted House became an abyss of "Stop it!", "Oh my god!", "Fuck you!", "No!" and god knows how many shrieks and screams. Many times I found myself screaming at random staffs just working there as ushers in The Haunted Houses.
All while holding Steve's hands.
Halfway through the third Haunted House Melanie said, "Let's just go for the rides. I'm tired of you two ass lickers screaming at everything and anything!"
Porn And Her Dough Of Bread
24 hours.
That is all you have for your birthday. In that 24 hours, you are at the liberty to do anything you please and 75% of the time, someone else is going to pay for you. In that 24 hours, you are allowed to shamelessly ask any random stranger to wish you a "Happy Birthday" and 92% of the time, they will. In that 24 hours, you are allowed to be obnoxious and ask for a gift from any of your friends and 68% of the time you will get the gift.
This 24 hours is yours and yours to exploit.
I've never been the kind of guy to celebrate birthdays with much pomp but this year is an exception. This year, I decided that for my birthday, I would like to get out of the country and not be reminded that there is so much a middle class person like myself can afford to celebrate.
That means you go to any country where the currency is much weaker than the Singapore Dollar. Middle-class problem, solved!
Having a birthdate in October also means that it is the monsoon season in every South East Asian country (where the currency is much weaker than the Singapore Dollars thank you very much). But I wasn't prepared for the kind of weather that greeted me in Krabi on the eve of my birthday.
The rain was torrential and the whole trip there was wetter than Miley Cyrus' vagina after writhing on top of a wrecking ball. I practically spent my holiday there with an umbrella in hand and a scowl on my face.
But never one to excessively complain (especially during a holiday because that would be fucking annoying), I made a decision to enjoy my holiday by doing things indoors instead.
So I treated my body like a Play-doh and went for a body massage for two days straight and by the second day, my body was so relaxed that if you pushed me by accident, I would fall on the floor and immediately fall asleep on the floor.
Oh boy was the massage good. As it is with Thailand, you can't make out the women from the woah-men. On the second day, my masseuse, or "massage therapists" as they are popularly known nowadays, was this pretty girl in her mid twenties by the name of Porn. Please, don't start.
She spoke in an almost inaudible whisper and it wasn't until I laid down and saw her Adam's apple that I knew that Porn is actually a man. By then, it was already too late. I was already fully naked with the exception of a see through disposable underwear hanging precariously on my hips.
Nowhere to hide.
Her quiet, almost shy demeanor quickly evaporated when she started kneading my back like a dough of bread. Porn is biologically still a man and the brute strength was evident in her massage.
The food in Krabi, Thailand, as expected was exceedingly delicious. There was surprisingly a great number of Italian restaurants that could be found in Krabi. I had a ball of a time slurping copious amount of spicy, intestine damaging Tom Yum Goong, made more delicious and enjoyable against the cool, wet weather for the entire duration of my trip.
But back to the massage story.
"I bet Melanie would make an excellent transsexual masseuse in Krabi," Star Whatsapped me yesterday right after I regaled to her my slightly uncomfortable messaging incident in a group chat consisting of the usual suspects.
"And Star would make a good whore. Oh wait, you already are a whore," Melanie texted back in retaliation.
And with that, I was transported back home immediately.
Thailand though. Everyone was warm and genuine and it more than made up for the fucking shitty weather. It doesn't hurt either that I stayed in a villa and is equipped with a balcony that is directly facing the sea.
Something a middle class like myself would never ever afford in this god forsaken country.
That is all you have for your birthday. In that 24 hours, you are at the liberty to do anything you please and 75% of the time, someone else is going to pay for you. In that 24 hours, you are allowed to shamelessly ask any random stranger to wish you a "Happy Birthday" and 92% of the time, they will. In that 24 hours, you are allowed to be obnoxious and ask for a gift from any of your friends and 68% of the time you will get the gift.
This 24 hours is yours and yours to exploit.
I've never been the kind of guy to celebrate birthdays with much pomp but this year is an exception. This year, I decided that for my birthday, I would like to get out of the country and not be reminded that there is so much a middle class person like myself can afford to celebrate.
That means you go to any country where the currency is much weaker than the Singapore Dollar. Middle-class problem, solved!
Having a birthdate in October also means that it is the monsoon season in every South East Asian country (where the currency is much weaker than the Singapore Dollars thank you very much). But I wasn't prepared for the kind of weather that greeted me in Krabi on the eve of my birthday.
The rain was torrential and the whole trip there was wetter than Miley Cyrus' vagina after writhing on top of a wrecking ball. I practically spent my holiday there with an umbrella in hand and a scowl on my face.
But never one to excessively complain (especially during a holiday because that would be fucking annoying), I made a decision to enjoy my holiday by doing things indoors instead.
So I treated my body like a Play-doh and went for a body massage for two days straight and by the second day, my body was so relaxed that if you pushed me by accident, I would fall on the floor and immediately fall asleep on the floor.
Oh boy was the massage good. As it is with Thailand, you can't make out the women from the woah-men. On the second day, my masseuse, or "massage therapists" as they are popularly known nowadays, was this pretty girl in her mid twenties by the name of Porn. Please, don't start.
She spoke in an almost inaudible whisper and it wasn't until I laid down and saw her Adam's apple that I knew that Porn is actually a man. By then, it was already too late. I was already fully naked with the exception of a see through disposable underwear hanging precariously on my hips.
Nowhere to hide.
Her quiet, almost shy demeanor quickly evaporated when she started kneading my back like a dough of bread. Porn is biologically still a man and the brute strength was evident in her massage.
The food in Krabi, Thailand, as expected was exceedingly delicious. There was surprisingly a great number of Italian restaurants that could be found in Krabi. I had a ball of a time slurping copious amount of spicy, intestine damaging Tom Yum Goong, made more delicious and enjoyable against the cool, wet weather for the entire duration of my trip.
But back to the massage story.
"I bet Melanie would make an excellent transsexual masseuse in Krabi," Star Whatsapped me yesterday right after I regaled to her my slightly uncomfortable messaging incident in a group chat consisting of the usual suspects.
"And Star would make a good whore. Oh wait, you already are a whore," Melanie texted back in retaliation.
And with that, I was transported back home immediately.
Thailand though. Everyone was warm and genuine and it more than made up for the fucking shitty weather. It doesn't hurt either that I stayed in a villa and is equipped with a balcony that is directly facing the sea.
Something a middle class like myself would never ever afford in this god forsaken country.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Bollywood At 9.
I was nine years old. This was my earliest recollection of how it all started. 1996. I was lying on my late grandmother's bed, tucked underneath her left arm, head resting on her chest. She smelled of massage oil and fabric softener. I will always remember that smell. She was plump and worked as a masseuse.
Men, women, child, twisted ligaments, pregnant ladies, back sores, anything. She knew her way around this island, partly because her job required her to go to customers houses all over Singapore. Which buses go where, shortest routes, everything.
She was a walking directory.
It amazed me how good her memory was even in her seventies. She was larger than life. Much, much larger than life. When she passed away, I knew it was because life itself couldn't contain her. Her positivity, her infectious laughter. Every evening, after a full day of massaging, she would relax and unwind by being in her room, lying down on her queen sized bed and watching Indonesian channels playing on her little television perched on top of a standing cabinet, with a gigantic transmitter hanging by the bedroom window.
She was from Medan, Indonesia and I guess that by watching Indonesian channels, that was how she clinged on to memories of home. The images were always grainy, but that didn't stop her from spending hours and hours watching Telenovelas dubbed in Bahasa Indonesia, variety shows, Indonesian Soap Operas otherwise known as Sinetron and re-runs of both old and the latest Bollywood movies.
So there I was, tucked underneath her left arm, head resting on her chest, smelling the addictive concoction of massage oil and fabric softener, watching a re-run of an old Bollywood movie. The movie itself was the stuff of fantasy.
It was about this snake goddess who has the ability to transform herself into a beautiful woman, who eventually falls in love and married a human being. This movie, later on in my life, after years and years of searching for it's title, is Nagina, starring the absolutely stunning Sridevi. But I was nine. And I knew nothing about Sridevi, not yet at least. All I could remember was the scene that will be etched forever in my mind.
The scene starts off with an evil priest who is trying to lure this snakewoman out of her room, in an attempt to steal her divine powers and possess it, for his own personal gain. so he was playing that snake flute or whatever you call it and she was writhing in her room, snake eyes formed and all. Shortly after, she opened the doors of her room, draped in a astunning white outfit, hell bent on battling it out with the evil old priest who miraculously is still not out of breath after blowing into the damn instrument for what seemed like ages.
I suppose he was an evil priest and he had an evil pair of lungs. And just like everything evil, it will stand through time, whether you like it or not.
And so the battle began. But no, there wasn't any special effects or CGI. In true Bollywood style, the duel was done in sing and dance. And boy did Sridevi danced. I believed the song was Main Teri Dushman which translates to I'm Your Enemy. But all I remembered was how bewitched I was with her dancing and inside my little head I asked, "Who..is..this..woman..?"
I was completely bedazzled, beyond comprehension. The scene replayed in my head for weeks after that. I wanted to know who she was and what was the name of the movie. In the next decade after that, I will be asking everyone that i know, "Do you know of this Bollywood movie about this snakewoman and she danced in this white outfit?"
Some would reply, "Since when did Bollywood make a movie about snakes?", most would just stare at me in disgust and say, "What the fuck? Bollywood? Snakewoman? You're fucking nuts."
Once there was a boy in class who replied, "Is it Jennifer Lopez in Anaconda?" He obviously didn't hear the word Bollywood. And if Jennifer Lopez was a snake in a movie, her gigantic ass would make the snake looked like it just swallowed a cow. And the rest of the movie will be her trying to digest the damn animal and it won't be that much fun after that if you ask me.
But that didn't stop me neither did it made me want to give up; in fact it made me more obsessed. Who was this lady? I was eighteen when I stumbled upon old videos of Sridevi on YouTube.
And there it was.
Of course by eighteen I knew who Sridevi was and I knew all about the movie but somehow or rather I just can't seem to find the movie in stores. There I was, choked up, finally reunited with my snakewoman. And the memories came spilling in, the massage oil smell with that hint of fabric softener, the grainy images, those evil pair of lungs that never went out of breath.
I was nine years olf all over again. And almost instantly, my obsession was born. Fathered by Rishi Kapoor and conceived by the dance moves of Sridevi. In that instant, a friend, now I can't remember who, while watching the video with me started laughing uncontrollably and in between breaths said, "That is fucking old school dude. She looks like she is convulsing to death. Craptastic."
But he wasn't making any sense. I am just a nine year old boy, and this is my first step into the world of Bollywood.
The Co-incidence
I was browsing through my notes and found this note that I had typed out a couple of years ago. Who would have thought that today I would have the opportunity to act it all out at the expense of my dignity and for the pleasure of the whole of Singapore? These pearls of wisdom are the ones that didn't make the cut for the Bonda Bedah Berates video. Have a good read!
School For Mothers
There is. I am not kidding you. I stumbled upon this textbook: How To Be An Effective Working Class Malay Mother. Apparently all our mothers come from this school. Here are the Ten Golden Rules.
1. Threat your kids with death
"Aku terjun baru korang tahu! Bila aku dah mampos baru korang tahu nasib korang!"
(Later when I jump down to my death then you all know your luck!)
2. Compare your kids with other over achieving kids
"Kau tengok anak Cik Timah, semua baik jadinya! Mana yang tak tinggal sembahyang, mana yang pergi universiti. Sejuk perut si Timah tu. Ntahlah, anak-anak aku susah lah, tak boleh jadi macam diorang."
(Look at Aunt Timah's children, all successful! Can go university, doesn't forget to pray daily. What good luck. My kids? Hopeless. Can never be like them.)
3. Ask for an extravagant amount of money from your kids.
"Jangan bohong dengan aku! Hah, kerja overtime aku tengok hari-hari, buang duit dengan orang tua susah!"
(Don't lie to me! You work overtime everyday, want to give parents money also hard.)
4. Scold your kid's friends who sneak into your house when you're not in.
"Ah bagos!! Masuk satu-satu macam pencuri! Berambus pun macam pencuri!!"
(Good! Sneak in the house like a burglar, leave the house also like one!)
5. Use "Kau nak jadi setan?!" at least once a day.
"Kau maghgrib-maghgrib tak tahu nak balik eh!? Kau nak jadi setan?! Ah bagus, bawak anak dara mana ntah balik rumah. Kau nak jadi setan?! Yer, subur-subur semua masih membuta. Kau nak jadi setan?!"
(It's dusk already you don't know how to return home? You want to be a devil? Good! Bring a girl home! You want to be a devil? Good! Before dawn all sleeping like a log. You want to be a devil?")
6. Sad, sacrificial stories. Use your tears.
"Aku selama ni korban, tangan jadi kaki, kaki jadi tangan besarkan korang tapi satu anak pun tak kesiankan aku. Sob. Dari kecik aku bela sampai dah besar panjang. Sob. Ni balasan korang kat aku? Sob, sob, sob.
(All these while i sacrificed, i used my four limbs to go out and work not even a single child pities me. I raised you all from small until you guys become adults. This is how you repay me? Sob Sob Sob.)
7. When your kid turns 21, every day, you must ask them about marriage.
"Bila aku nak timang cucu? Bila kau nak kahwin? Kau takda kawan ker? Bila nak bawak kawan kau balik rumah?"
(When can I hold a grandchild? When are you getting married? Don't you have a girlfriend? When are you going to bring your girlfriend home?)
8. And when they bring their gf/bf home, criticise.
"Betina/jantan apa kau bawak balik? Pakai tak senonoh, dengan orang tua tak tahu salaman, bagus lah, jantan/betina gini kau nak jadikan bini/laki?!"
(What kind of gf/bf are you bringing home? Wear so sleazy, don't know how to respect elders, this kind of man/woman you want to make a husband/wife?)
9. If you have a son, always threat that his future wife will never be like you. If you have a daughter, threat that she will never be like you.
"Nanti kau kahwin bini pengotor, baru ah kau tahu langit dengan bumi. Situ tempat tido, situ tempat main, situ jugaklah dia menyerakkan."
(One day you will marry a dirty woman then you will know. Sleeping area, eating area all at one place.)
Or.
"Kau memang tak boleh pembersih macam aku. Buat kerja rumah punya pemalas, masak, haram! Nanti kau dah kahwin, kasi laki kau cekik Maggi hari-hari!"
(You are not as clean and pedantic as me. So lazy to do housework. Cooking? Far from it! Later when you get married, you eat Maggi everyday lah!)
10. Nag. Nag about everything. Minimum is two hours. Great mothers nag throughout the night and continue till next morning.
I don't have enough space to type the nagging. Go figure.
Did I tell you that there will be a PART TWO OF BONDA BEDAH BERATES? Wait for it bitches. I mean, peaches.
1. Threat your kids with death
"Aku terjun baru korang tahu! Bila aku dah mampos baru korang tahu nasib korang!"
(Later when I jump down to my death then you all know your luck!)
2. Compare your kids with other over achieving kids
"Kau tengok anak Cik Timah, semua baik jadinya! Mana yang tak tinggal sembahyang, mana yang pergi universiti. Sejuk perut si Timah tu. Ntahlah, anak-anak aku susah lah, tak boleh jadi macam diorang."
(Look at Aunt Timah's children, all successful! Can go university, doesn't forget to pray daily. What good luck. My kids? Hopeless. Can never be like them.)
3. Ask for an extravagant amount of money from your kids.
"Jangan bohong dengan aku! Hah, kerja overtime aku tengok hari-hari, buang duit dengan orang tua susah!"
(Don't lie to me! You work overtime everyday, want to give parents money also hard.)
4. Scold your kid's friends who sneak into your house when you're not in.
"Ah bagos!! Masuk satu-satu macam pencuri! Berambus pun macam pencuri!!"
(Good! Sneak in the house like a burglar, leave the house also like one!)
5. Use "Kau nak jadi setan?!" at least once a day.
"Kau maghgrib-maghgrib tak tahu nak balik eh!? Kau nak jadi setan?! Ah bagus, bawak anak dara mana ntah balik rumah. Kau nak jadi setan?! Yer, subur-subur semua masih membuta. Kau nak jadi setan?!"
(It's dusk already you don't know how to return home? You want to be a devil? Good! Bring a girl home! You want to be a devil? Good! Before dawn all sleeping like a log. You want to be a devil?")
6. Sad, sacrificial stories. Use your tears.
"Aku selama ni korban, tangan jadi kaki, kaki jadi tangan besarkan korang tapi satu anak pun tak kesiankan aku. Sob. Dari kecik aku bela sampai dah besar panjang. Sob. Ni balasan korang kat aku? Sob, sob, sob.
(All these while i sacrificed, i used my four limbs to go out and work not even a single child pities me. I raised you all from small until you guys become adults. This is how you repay me? Sob Sob Sob.)
7. When your kid turns 21, every day, you must ask them about marriage.
"Bila aku nak timang cucu? Bila kau nak kahwin? Kau takda kawan ker? Bila nak bawak kawan kau balik rumah?"
(When can I hold a grandchild? When are you getting married? Don't you have a girlfriend? When are you going to bring your girlfriend home?)
8. And when they bring their gf/bf home, criticise.
"Betina/jantan apa kau bawak balik? Pakai tak senonoh, dengan orang tua tak tahu salaman, bagus lah, jantan/betina gini kau nak jadikan bini/laki?!"
(What kind of gf/bf are you bringing home? Wear so sleazy, don't know how to respect elders, this kind of man/woman you want to make a husband/wife?)
9. If you have a son, always threat that his future wife will never be like you. If you have a daughter, threat that she will never be like you.
"Nanti kau kahwin bini pengotor, baru ah kau tahu langit dengan bumi. Situ tempat tido, situ tempat main, situ jugaklah dia menyerakkan."
(One day you will marry a dirty woman then you will know. Sleeping area, eating area all at one place.)
Or.
"Kau memang tak boleh pembersih macam aku. Buat kerja rumah punya pemalas, masak, haram! Nanti kau dah kahwin, kasi laki kau cekik Maggi hari-hari!"
(You are not as clean and pedantic as me. So lazy to do housework. Cooking? Far from it! Later when you get married, you eat Maggi everyday lah!)
10. Nag. Nag about everything. Minimum is two hours. Great mothers nag throughout the night and continue till next morning.
I don't have enough space to type the nagging. Go figure.
Did I tell you that there will be a PART TWO OF BONDA BEDAH BERATES? Wait for it bitches. I mean, peaches.
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