Since last Saturday, the “sin-seh” reminded me not to eat hot/spicy food and cold beverages. The moment he told me that, I said “Har?!” loudly until he repeated the same sentence twice, just in case I did not get it into my brain. This is a more painful than the pain on my elbow.

For all my life, my meals are consist of chilies and extra ice beverages. My family members are born to live on chilies or hot and spicy food. My sisters and I ate “cili padi” raw at the age of 5 and it was a piece of cake to all of us. It was something for us to boast around at that time. My father is even more “hebat”. He ate so much chilies until he was required to see a specialist regarding bout his anus, which I shall not blog about. The doctor said that his intestine is totally in pink colour, a very good sign. But, since my father ate way too much, something happened. It costed my father about RM1k for the operation to cure the “sickness”. Before he was discharged, the doctor asked him not to eat too much chilies. If that particular dinner does not have any dishes with chilies or something hot, nobody will have another scoop of rice. Later in the night, my father will bring us for supper to compensate the lousy dinner. If there is chicken curry, pork ribs curry, “kurma” or “gulai”, my mother has to cook extra rice. As for me, to finish one K.F.C dinner plate, three pieces of chicken, I need to have one bottle of chili sauce, which I can finish at least 50% or 75% one time. Therefore, I always try to sneak out a brand new bottle of chili sauce on the table if its a take away. I have not eaten any chilies for two days and I have no appetite in everthing I eat. How to survive without chilies?! I miss chilies so much!

Talk about iced/cold beverages, I cannot live without them. Regardless of the weather, whether it is sunny, freaking hot, drizzling, raining, thunderstorm or even hailstrom, I still need to drink cold/iced beverages. My father is also the same as me, like father like son. -wink- I believe that the ratio of my drink to ice is 2:3. Whenever I go to the mamak stalls, I shall request for another cup/glass of ice. I shall then pour half of my drinks into the cup/glass filled with ice and drink. The other half of the drink will be poured when I finish the first half. Ice blended is my favourite but sometimes I even complain the ice blended is not cold/freezing enough. Now, I am not allowed to drink cold water also.

With two most important thing in my life taken away, I feel so lifeless. Breakast, lunch and dinner are not the same anymore. They taste bad, so bad that I feel like throwing them away. I cannot eat my favourite “Nasi Lemak” that is available at 5AM only which has awesome sambal to go with it. Not only that, I need to stay away from seafoods, chicken, eggs, “tau-fu” and etc.

I just dislocated my arm, why do I need to becareful what I eat?! -Screams- It is so suffering and even more painful when the “sin-seh” twisted my arm. I want my chilies and ice back. -sniff sniff-

I slept at 2AM last night, after beating Chris in Yahoo! pool in the first round with my left hand only. Undeniable, I am still superior even by playing with my left hand. I slept and it was very difficult to find the most comfortable style. After rounds of trial and error, I found the best pose and slept through the whole night, without moving a single bit. I was awaken by some sounds at 7AM but I continued to sleep until 11AM. Nothing much about the pain, thank God. Thank you very much for everyone’s concern, I am touched.

There is nothing I can blog about today, until now. Guess I shall find one or two movies and just be couch potato for the next few hours. Who knows, I might even study. Yeap, study! Keep your fingers cross. -blek-

This afternoon, I was in the shop working as usual. I was wiping the shelves/glasses by standing on a 3m tall chair. Then, as I wanted to get down from the chair, the chair became unstable and was like leaning forward. I fell down right onto the floor and I heard a “kraaaaaakkkk” coming from my right arm. Upon looking at my arm, it was lying there at a very odd position, twisted badly. I stood up as my boss and colleagues came to check on me. Goh asked me to raise my hand and I could not do it.

I was in a state of shock and pain. I did not cry though. Goh sent me to Pantai Medical Center to take X-Ray. While waiting for my turn, there was this uncle talking to me, “Wah~! You really can stand the pain!” All I could do was only look at him like a dumb-ass. The doctor said my elbow was dislocated and it was quite bad. After leaving the hospital, Goh sent me to those Chinese “sin-seh” so that the “sin-seh” could relocate my elbow.

It was my first time visiting these “sin-seh”. I was really frightened whenever I know they are going to twist my arm just like that. He asked me to relax, while he held my hand and his wife held my shoulder. Sweat was coming down from my head. Then, he twisted my hand. I screamed, “OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!!!” He did not stop there, he bent my elbow and twisted it for the second time. I screamed, “OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

It was done. I was breathing in and out while trying to counter the pain. My breathing was totally in a mess. He said, “Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.” Slowly, after drinking a cup of hot milk and 5 minutes later, I was relieved. Slowly, he wrapped my hand with the herbal medicine and a bandage to support my hand. He gave me some medicine and asked me not to eat these and that. Goh paid the bill and he sent me home.

P/S : I wrote this post only with my left hand. People, I might not be commenting in your posts for some time, but I shall not miss any single post.

Please click for Butter - Part I if you have miss them.

My mum always says that whenever my friends requested help from me, I never say no nor even grumble a single word. Therefore, I decided to go Fajar to get her the RM1.99 Farm Cow’s Butter. I left the house at 12 noon and reached Fajar at 12:20PM. I went to the respective department and saw the butters. I was delighted and started to put 20 of them into the trolly. I went to the cashier to pay them, with my RM20 in my hand.

“One person is only allowed to buy 2.”
“-shocked- Har?! ”
“One person is only allowed to buy 2. May be you can pay at another counter.”
“-embarassed- Ok. Sorry.”

I was damn angry and gave a call to my dad while putting the butters at their original place.

“Pa, where is your wife? (in an angry tone)”
“She is at home. I am still working.”
“Tell mummy that only 1 person can buy 2.”
“Is it? Where are you now?”
“In Fajar. Yes, 2 only. Make sure you tell her this. Tell her she has saved RM10.”
“Mmh.”
“Ask her not to expect me to que up for another 9 times just to buy the remaining 18 sticks.”
“Ok.”
“-clicked-”

Later,I counted.

RM0.50*2 = RM1.
My mum saved RM1.

1 hour wasted.RM2.50*1 = RM2.50.
Parking ticket RM1.
Petrol about RM3.
I spent RM6.50.

“I should have trust my feeling. ~!@#$%^&*()” I grumbled.

P/S : See! This is why I never like to help my mum. There are other examples too like preparing her exam papers for the school, which I shall blog in near future.

Whenever my parents call, it is never something good for me. Today as well. I came out of the bathroom and there was a missed call from my dad. I let it be and 5 minutes later, my dad called again.

Nokia 6100 : “Deng deng deng…” -plays Sonic the Hedgehog theme song.- (In The Hall Of Mountain King, if not mistaken.)

*Conversation was held in a loud tone/scolding tone.*

“Hello?”
“Your phone for what one? Don’t know how to pick up ah? (It was my mum.)”
“Bathing-lah just now!”
“Tomorrow go Farja buy Farm Cow’s butter before you come back.”
“Cannot buy in Jusco meh? So far lah Farja from my place! How much?”
“RM1.99!”
“Jusco leh?”
“RM2.50!”
“Mak oi, 50 cent only mah!”
“Don’t care. Tomorrow you go buy 20 for me!”
“I working lah tomorrow!”
“When you coming back?”
“Sunday.”
“You go buy before you come back!”
“But I plan to go back on Sunday 6AM!”
“You what?! Say that again!”
“Yalah yalah! I go buy lah!”
“Already bank in RM300 to you!”
“Thanks!”
“Clicked. Du du du…”

Later, I counted.

RM0.50 * 20 = RM10.
My mum will save RM10.

I need 2 hours to buy that stuff, so less 2 hours working time. RM2.50 * 2 = RM5.
Distance from MMU to Farja is bout 25 minutes, RM3 petrol.
Parking fee at Farja is a minimum of RM2.
I am going to spend RM10.

“Might as well I buy at Jusco.” I grumbled.