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Showing posts from September, 2005

Gym-ing With Friends ....Pays Off

I JUST got a call from Fitness First. My first thought was, uh oh, my credit card is over the limit, and the subscription didn't go through. But, as it turns out, bringing the two boys and a girl to the gym yesterday, entitled us to a lucky draw for 3 months free membership; chances of me winning a lucky draw is as good as a 70 year old woman getting pregnant, so, when the lady told me I had won the three month free membership, I shrieked in delight, like a schoolgirl who'd just got her first date to the prom. Disgraceful I know. But what the heck, the last time I won anything in a lucky draw was when I was working for contractor, and had to attend this host of sou kong chou, (end of the year annual dinner), where I was on a roll. That was in 1992. Won a philips cake mixer, (which was in cold storage until the advent of my baking hobby, in 2001), a portable cd player, (which those days cost a fortune), a midi hi fi, ... hmm, what else.... anyway, yar, so, thanks, guys, an

Gym-ing With Friends

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I've never really been to the gym with friends before. People I meet there are hardly considered "friends", though after 1 year of familiarity, it probably is more than just a hallo, but as far as my social circle goes, hardly any go to the gym. Which makes me wonder, am I gonna be the only one living when the rest of my peers have keeled over with heart attacks, lumbago and whatever else?? Anyway, yesterday, Fitness First in John Hancock had their group exercise launch, which shades has been talking about in other centres. Two of my dear friends and one sister (actually, my one and only) came along for the launch. Actually, it was necessary to bring someone (non FF member) to ensure a place in the class, as many disgruntled regulars discovered. Anyway, my 3 guests were there in full force, though one threatened cancellation coz he had forgotten his gear. My favourite combat instructor, Calvin, was co-instructing with another chap, Ben, (who happenes to be I think my fir

Should Blogs Stay Focused?

I wonder, when people read blogs, do they read particular blogs because a particular subject matters, or do people actually enjoy reading a whole cornucopia of unrelated stuff, from a baby's first poo, to a dying man's last fart. I personally read blogs that fall into these categories : 1. good friend's, who are on the same frequency, 2. some political ones, 3. gym/exercise related ones, 4. some religious ones. Anything else can be probably categorised as dribble. I was thinking, therefore, to split my own blog into 3 categories, fatboybakes, which of course, is fat related, fatboygyms, which is sweat related, and fatboyejaculates, which is wet related. (esp in the context of archimedes). That way, I stand a better chance of being selected in Project Petaling Street under best blog category. Of course, once I've established my following, I'll start a whole series, fatboypreach (for the sinners, like me), fatboyteach (for the ignorant, who don't know the

I Always Thought Ejaculate Meant ............

A friend of mine, (I always assumed he was a MENSA member, coz he strikes me as err...quite smart, since he's always regurgitating these obscure facts that we have long forgotten since our school days and of course was one of those who had no problems reciting newton's laws , and remembers the fractional value of Pi, etc etc) recently pointed out that Archimedes ejaculated in his bathtub. Now apparently, the word ejaculate also means, e·jac·u·late ( P ) Pronunciation Key (-jky-lt)v. e·jac·u·lat·ed, e·jac·u·lat·ing, e·jac·u·lates v. tr. To utter suddenly and passionately; exclaim. So it doesn't necessarily have to do with the sudden rush of a baby making fluid. What an epiphany. The weekend was one of those hectic hectic ones. From the time the imaginary school bell rang, (to signify work's over for Friday, and the weekend is beginning), it was go go go. Body pump at 4.45pm, (couldn't go for the regular 6.45pm slot since had to go for MPO), MPO at night, wh

LIfe Without Class

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True to my word, I did NOT go for any gym class yesterday, despite it being part of my normal routine. Anyway, I took to my old love, (love may not be the correct word; its somewhere in between like and love...loike?) jogging in lake gardens. Now, these gardens have many memories for me, and up until I joined Fitness First last year, it was my usual hangout, for exercise. In that 1½ years, the gardens have been spruced up tremendously. Repaved jogging tracks, interlocking blocks for the embankment of the lake, landscaped gardens, more fake waterfalls. I'm not sure what distance I covered, but I know it's at least 3.5km lah. Very enjoyable. Might start running regularly again. Need to buy a good pair of running shoes, my current nikes are laughing oridi, and the gym pair is strictly for gym, and has to be unsoiled by real earth. Any advice? The picture shows my jogging path, starting (green arrow) at lake club. I don't know how to insert arrows in the directions, but basi

Living For Them Group X Classes

A comment on yesterday's blog alluded to the fact that I seem to live for those Group Exercise Classes in the gym. Harumph. That is not true. Apart from the fact that I attend them nearly every day, (except Sundays, and usually Tuesdays), sometimes twice a day, and have been spreading the word about how fun it is, to friends, like a zealous evangelist, and apart from the fact that I feel an endorfin withdrawal akin to a coke addict in rehab, and apart from the fact that I juggle my schedule TO revolve around these classes, I would HARDLY say that I live for these classes. Just to prove a point, I am not going to go this evening for body combat. Instead, I'll resort to my old love, ie, jogging in lake gardens. The kids have swimming class in Lake Club anyway, so while they're swimming, I can jogging. See H-L, I donch live for these classes. But if I can't sleep tonight because I missed it, I'm going to call you. Talking about classes, a question that always sends shu

When Routines Get Messed Up...

I had originally planned to bring the kid for his favourite roti canai breakfast this morning, since he's home alone; usually my folks are around to entertain him, and his cousin comes over as well, but the folks are on that fabulous Mastercard package to Angkor Wat. 4 days 3 nights stay at the Sofitel, (where Angelina Jolie also parks herself) plus airfare, on MAS, for about RM1430-00. Inclusive of all taxes, fuel surcharge, breakfast, transfers, one dinner. But roti canai went down the drain, coz had to do something else. I guess the kid could do with some dieting anyway. But, as far as routines go, sigh, my plans for body combat class today are also in peril, as someone went and scheduled a meeting for me at 4.30pm. BC is at 5.40pm. In fact, I had planned to go for pump AND combat, from 4.45pm. That's out the window. And, this friday, I can't attend my regular pump class EITHER, coz I have tickets for the MPO. (Msian Philharmonic Orchestra). Bummer. And next week will b

Bacon, by any other name, is still bacon, no?

Wasn't going to write anything coz nothing blogworthy occured in the last 24 hours; well, I did host dinner at home for some old dear friends; it's always nice to be around old dear friends, when you don't have to worry about conversation, where sarcasm is the order of the day, and where you know they'll be blunt enough to tell you if you have body odour, or bad breath. But, entry from M&M jolted me from blogethargy; apparently, famous pork rib franchise is coming to town. Tony Romas. But, since the franchisees sound very very bumiputra, there is a 99% chance that the menu will not include any creatures that go oink. Not that it really bothers me, I've found Tony Romas okaylah, nothing to particularly gaga over. What surprises me is, if they really are going to be porcine free, why bring in the franchise at all? It's like bringing in a Haagen Daz franchise and say sorry, we're selling roti canai, not ice cream. Or Dunkin Donuts saying, sorry, no d

Like Sands Through An Our Glass, So Too The Days of Our Lives

Time really flies. September is almost over, December will be upon us, and as usual, on Dec 1, out come the Christmas CDs for the car. By the time it's Christmas, I'd be so overdosed on carols, so I can with clear conscience put away the CDs in cold storage for the next 11 months. I was reminded that the fasting month begins in 2 weeks time. As I listen to the ticking of my biological clock, I wonder .... I wonder .... where I'll throw my 40th birthday party. (next year, november) The weekend was comfortable, not TOO much activity to render me zombified, but not so boring as to make me want to be zombified. On Friday, I was in a dilemma, whether to go for body combat, or body pump. My constraint was time; not stamina (ahem); as I had to prepare supper for my cell group, which included baking a birthday cake for two of our members, (baked a lemon sourcream pistachio cake...no photos), and a luncheon meat quiche. (also no pictures). The dilemma had mainly to do with

Life is Always Bluer on the Other Side

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As I contemplated if I have anything to say today, the realisation that I have never shared about one of my deep passions, sank in. Scuba diving. I reckon if I was still single, and had no family commitments, I'd be in a self imposed exile on an island somewhere, with crystal clear waters, and ....lots of fish, either running a dive shop, or, trying to write for a diving magazine, or holidaying, or, being a part time dive master. We (group of friends and me) took up diving in 1993. It was fairly uncommon those days, not like now, where every tom, dick and harry, or mary, jane and sally does it, more because it's an in thing, rather than because they love to do it. In any case, diving these days is much easier, facilities are much better, services have improved leaps and bounds, and it doesn't take 5 hours on a fishing boat to get from Kuala Terengganu to Pulau Redang. On our first trip to the blue, (Redang) for our certification dives, the propellor shaft of the fishing boa

10 Years In Bangsar & Apple n Date Strudel Recipe

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It suddenly struck me this morning, as I was walking back to the office from the mamak, (roti canai with the son), that I've been in physically officed in Bangsar for the last 10 years. People look familiar, places have come and gone. There was a period where every "kai tow" (chicken joint) was located here, KFC, Kenny Rogers, Taza, Nandos....they've all gone now. The current rage is nasi kandar, mamaks and massage places. Saddest of all, the thought struck me, that had I had the vision to buy a shop here in 1995, when I first moved in, I WOULDN'T BE here today, coz I could have retired. Prices have double fold (or is it double folded) since then. Shops that were just above RM2 million, (esp during 97 crisis), are now RM4 million, commanding an average rental of RM20k. So, in effect, you could have either sold the shop, or live off the rent. But realistically speaking, as a 29 year old, (in 1995), WHEEERRRE got that kind of money. Even if I were to sell everything

Punctuate,.?!:

Before I slag her off, let me qualify that FC is one of my oldest and dearest friends; I've known her for 22 years now. One thing that hasn't changed over the years, is her horrific abruptness in communication. When she was working, she used to answer the phone with what barely sounded like a "hallo", but more of a "growl". Anyway, this morning, way before I arose from slumber, I receive that familiar DIT DIT tone; so I read the sms which said, "Can get tickets for storm. Want to bring kids." Now, BECAUSE I know this woman, I know it's unlikely she's telling me that SHE is organising an outing of such epic proportions. Just to be SURE, I reply, "is that a question, or a statement? Tickets are scarce to come by". Another endearingly exasperating trait is how long she takes to reply an sms, or email. (actually, her mailbox has been full for the last 6 months). An hour or so later, she replies, "nx wk lah. kids got cheap

Patented Gym Stuff

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It's been one of those weekends that makes me almost glad it's Monday. Busy busy busy. From the word go, after fong kong (leave work) on Friday, till last night, it has been one thing after another. Let's start with Friday. Got home, quickly made some pizza dough for cell group later, then rushed off to the gym, for body pump class, instructed by that "shady" character. Dunno if anyone noticed the traces of flour on my red reebok shirt. This week, got to the gym with time to spare, and happened to be standing at the front of a newly formed queue for registration, so was well assured of a place in the class. During the chest track, (for the un-informed, body pump is a cardio weight exercise, using weights, to supposedly tone up the body, from the thighs, to the chest, to the back, triceps, biceps, shoulders and errrr...ass), suddenly I hear the instructor refer to the NIPPLE LINE. Dunno where THAT came from. Anyway, I have already shared my views about nipple lines

Toilet Reading

It never occured to me that blogs could be toilet reading, but well, apparently, it can be. This is an excerpt from an email I got from an old school friend: So ... I Do enjoy your blog ... and would love it more - excellent reading material whilst in the you-know-where (this wireless gizmo is such heaven sent ....!!) .... I can't imagine people reading their laptops while entertaining the call of nature. They must have big laps, to begin with. I would live in mortal fear of dropping the contraption into the toilet. I hear stories of mobile phones dropping into bowls, especially the squat loos in public toilets. Speaking of the call of nature, recently I'm finding that after body combat or body pump, I have this inexplicable ringing in my ear(figurative), which makes me have to answer the call. Maybe its the psyllium husk I'm taking, but I go like 3 times a day. Which makes me wonder. A very dear friend of mine, female, goes only once every 3 days. And according to

The Fruit of My Loins

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Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him. Psalm 127:3 I am not sure if the above is a sexist verse, or is the term "Sons" generic for offspring, like Man is for mankind. Anyway, I am veering off the unspoken pact I made with myself, when I embarked on this bloggaventure, that I shall keep the blog strictly impersonal, with no references to my personal life. I guess I shattered that confidence ages ago, by referrring to pregnancy test kits and stuff. I have this ritual, ever since my daughter came of age, of bringing them to the coffee shop with me on friday mornings. From age 2 to 3, they'll follow me to the coffee shop, until they go to kindergaten. From 1999 - 2001, it was the daughter who followed me. From 2002-2003, it was the first son, and from 2004 to now, it is the youngest. They all differ vastly in their personalities, but the one thing they have in common is, they love their food. In contrast to my sister's children, who consider mealti

Appeasing the Culinaria Crowd

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The reason there's more on gym-ing than baking is coz I go to gym 5,6 times a week, but only bake once a week. Furthermore, sometimes the baking stuff is repeated, so well, an apple pie is an apple pie; I can now see why it's not so easy to be Nigella Lawson or Jamie Oliver. The stress of having to come up with something new all the time!!!!! Anyway, yesterday being tuesday, meant no gym, (unless there's a favourite instructor replacing the regular body combat instructor on tuesdays, at the 6.45 slot); I have been wondering what to do with the bag of walnuts and tub of sour cream that were nearing the expiry date. Walnuts, when they go rancid, have this awful bitterish, bad oil, taste, as do all nuts when they go off. The problem with having like 130 recipe books is, you can never remember which recipe you saw where. One day, when I'm really bored, or have extracted my wisdom tooth, am on MC, and have watched all episodes of Desperate Housewives, Frasier, Raymond, and h

In the Face of Combat

People usually learn martial arts for self defence, or to pummel the school bully. Some take up boxing, to ensure they reap the critical illness benefits of their insurance policy. Body combat in the gym? Supposedly a combination of martial arts, kickboxing and boxing. Does it afford us any protection, or is it just for women to look good when they enter tribal competitions? I can almost envisage the scenario, if accosted in the parking lot by a mugger. First instincts would be to use some of those jab crosses or even a flying kick, to scare the mugger. But how lah? No music? No rhythm? Would it be feasible to tell the mugger, "excuse me, hangon ah, let me turn on the music first", and then go "HEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH SOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR" and upper cut him on his lower jaw? Can lah, I think. But what if the music is the wrong music leh? Suddenly got Straus's Blue Danube waltz. Aiyo, might as well give your money and carkeys up straightaway. Moral of t

Bringing the Bar to the Nipple Line

After missing last friday's body pump class, the endorphin withdrawal symptoms were getting too much to bear, so I HAD to get myself to the next available BP class, which was 1.30pm on saturday. (actually, there was one at 9.00am, but I don't consider that realistic) The instructor speaks with a thick Aussie accent. There is something vile in my book, about the aussie accent, especially when it sprouts forth from a mouth that looks distinctly asian. Shudder, my godson from Sydney probably spayks loik that. Iniwhy, he teels us during the chist priss to bring the bar deign to owa nipple loin. (anyway, he tells us during the chest press to bring the bar down to our nipple line). Now this is a far better description than the instruction from female instructors, which is bring the bar down to your bra line. How insensitive is that. (I've already rambled about this in an earlier blog). But the thing is, MY nipples are inverted. So I'm not sure where that nipple line is exact

FRUST NYA

Argh. Rushed all the way back from the Marriott, where I was attending a "workshop", and debated if I should get the driver to drop me off at Menara John Hancock at 6.23, OR, go home first, change, and head to MJH for the body pump class scheduled at 6.45. Well, as it happens, I decided to do the latter, and arrived at MJH at 6.40, only to be told, before I even reached the studio, that the pump class was full. GROAN. Bad enough I missed my regular combat class yesterday, had to miss the regular pump class today. Anyway, exhausted from the workshop, I didn't really have the mood to stay on to play with the machines, so I left, making it two consecutive exercise-less days. I am oridi feeling the endorphin withdrawal syndrome. However, my misfortune was a the fortune of others, for it meant, well, I could prepare supper for my cell group. Which I did. A bacon mushroom quiche. (see blog sometime in early August, for similar picture or recipe). Everytime I make the

Happy September All

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I am not in the office these few days, I'm at the Marriott. Involved in this supergroup thing. Harumph. I am not amused. Today, we were supposed to introduce ourselves, in this ice breaker thingie. You had to tell 2 lies, and 1 truth about yourself, and let the rest guess which was the fakie. My 3 facts WERE: 1. I am a part time model for this line of clothing for overweight boys; the male version of Ms Read. 2. I go to the gym nearly 6 times a week 3. I was in the Malaysian Army, rank of lieutenant. AITELLLYU, no one even doubted for a moment that # 1 was FALSE!!!! Well, for your info, no ONE is FALSE as FALSE can be. there IS no male version of Ms Read, not yet anyways. Snort. Grunt. Oink. Nice to know that my body pump instructor has shaved his armpits. Didn't really need to know that. Anyway, I had an insight into the life of a Tai Tai, on Merdeka Day. I am one of those that can't just take a day off to lepak. There is usually some string of activity, like an outstation