Purrs & Hisses

(Alhamdulillah) My thanks to God Almighty

*This one’s dedicated to the Langkawi'05 gang*

Thanks for the sun
Thanks for the sea
Thanks for the fun
In beautiful Langkawi

Thanks for the seafood
Delicious as they can be
Thanks for friends so good
Whose company was lovely

Thanks for their thoughtfulness
For the pleasant surprise
Thank You, too, for blessing us
Shielding us from harm, from cries

Endless gratitude for The Boys:
Some Gorgeous, some Winners, all protectors
of myself and my Sweet Girls:
My joy, my comfort, my eternal sisters

Muchas gracias, also, for mi bebé Nik
For bringing Love back into mi vida
Merci beaucoup for a holiday très magnifique
For all these, I say “Alhamdulillah”

It was a good, good trip. As Shereeta said it, “May we have many more of these in years to come.”

P/S: Ninz, Man & Is, wish you guys were there... Your presence were sorely missed!

The whole Langkawi'05 entourage with Fat Mum at her infamous seafood restaurant in Pantai Tengah

How'd you get so lucky?

And now, from Me to Him  ;)

How'd you get so lucky?
For my mind is always with you
Thoughts merely of you
Of how I love to love you
To cuddle you
To pamper you

How'd you get so lucky?
For you have cleared out
All of my heart
All too easily
To make room for you
And only you

How'd you get so lucky?
For you've come to be, unsuspectingly,
In the arms of someone
The only someone
Who's been destined
To adore you endlessly

How'd I get so lucky?
For having found the One
In the world’s billions
Who brings me love so pure, so divine
Who makes me feel
Like I ought to feel

How'd I get so lucky?
For now, finally, I have started
Living
Seeing
Knowing
The true meaning of
Bliss ...

- Selina A. Aziz 291105 -

Te quiero tanto tanto, bebé... always always.

Like the Stars Love the Sky

Words from Him to Me...

Like the stars love the sky,
My love knows no bounds nor constraints.
This vast Infinite glares me in the eye,
its depths blinding, glaring,
Making me realise the insignificance of anything else.

Like the stars love the sky,
My love burns with a million suns.
Like starlit moonbeams,
this supernovae of feelings churns ‘neath my breast,
warming this cold soul,
yearning for a touch, a kiss.

Like the stars love the sky,
My love knows only one song,
One hearth, One heart, One love, One moment.
My moment was when my heart found its home,
When my love called me her own.

Like the stars love the sky,
And the moon loves the sea.
My heart smiled a sigh,
For that’s what your love means to me.
Like the stars love the sky...

- Niklas Sani Albakri 291105 -

Ay, Dios... ¡Que dulzura! ¡Que belleza! Muchas gracias, bebé.

Sand, sea & my bestest friends

Langkawi, here we come!

Yeah, baby!!!

3

Velvet. In the darker hours of Saturday.

The same grand night which saw the bigwig football teams (save the Galacticos, sheesh!) won by 3 goals--ManU 3-1 Charlton, Chelsea 3-0 , Liverpool 3-0 Portsmouth, Arsenal 3-2 Wigan, Barça 3-0 Real Madrid.

The original plan was to go there for the gorgeous Suzanne’s 27th birthday bash. But then I received news on Friday night that Rini had summoned my “immediate family” to celebrate her hubby Rizal’s big 3-zero at the same time/place. My best friends and Nik’s best friends all under one roof? I knew it's gonna be goooood.

And since I wasn’t in the best of health on my birthday weekend last week, I decided to also tumpang in the glory that nite. 3 November babies, 3ple celebs, 3ple the fun, woohoo!

DJ Gabriel on the decks was totally sweet. As I expected, the Singaporean refused to disappoint—he spun lip-smacking, top-quality house, just like the good ol’ Backroom days. 3 words: pumpin pumpin pumpin!

And how delightful it was to get a little sumthin-sumthin more. Songstress Camelia coated her sugary vocals all over Gabriel’s truly-juicy set. I’ve never heard her that way. Must say she did pretty darn well for herself.

Great music, and even greater company... Damn, it was a great nite. Even the major throat-ache I had to nurse at the end of it all—thanks to my delirious screamings in approval to the delicious music—was well worth it.

The end of a long heartbreak

The impossible has happened. Well, the improbable, anyways.

Switzerland has ousted Turkey to book a place in the 2006 World Cup. Switzerland!!! I mean, they’re not exactly famous for their football. At least not as much as Turkey, who emerged third in the 2002 edition.

But more importantly...

Australia is in the 2006 World Cup Finals, woohoo!

AUSTRALIA!!! I mean, it’s a nation where soccer is like ice hockey in Malaysia—the sport exists, yes, but sadly it’s hardly on anyone’s minds nor lips. I remember when I was studying in Perth back in ‘99, soccer was a joke! That year, Man United clinched the historic treble, and poor me was celebrating all alone in my living room. Though I did hear cheering, yes, but only from a neighbour’s as the live telecast of a cricket game went their way. It was disheartening, truly truly.

The reason? Apparently, just like Americans, the perception that exists in the psyche of Aussies is that soccer’s low-scoring nature is way too boring. They feel that it’s not as adrenaline-pumping as cricket, rugby or Aussie rules footie. As if!

Anyways, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for the Socceroos. They had to face Uruguay in one of the five two-legged Qualifying Play-offs for the last few available spots. Uruguay!!! The South American soccer squad which have lifted the Cup twice!

Australia’s perseverance all these years (they worked hard but narrowly lost the chance to the Finals in 1997 and 2001) must’ve finally impressed the football gods last Wednesday. After being tied 1-1 on aggregate at the end of extra time, a converted penalty kick each from Harry Kewell, Tony Vidmar, John Aloisi and man-of-the-match Lucas Neill made sure that a sea of Green and Gold will be seen again in Germany. (The last time Australia got into a Finals was way back in 1974, when the World Cup was also staged in Deutschland.)

But it’s the fantabulous saves by Middlesborough goalie Mark Schwarzer--ones which denied spot kicks by Marcelo Zalayeta and Dario Rodriguez (Uruguay’s hero in the first leg)--that still have mouths bragging across Australia and the rest of the world. Absolutely great stuff, mate!

So ends a 32-year national heartbreak, and what a grand finale it was for it to have happened in your own turf. I can only imagine the kind of sweet euphoria that was oozing out of the 83 thousand delirious spectators who filled Sydney’s Telstra Stadium that night. Sheer jubilation all around... and loadsa beer, too, I'm sure!

And how apt is this sporting success to have arrived in a year where rugby and cricket have been less-than-satisfactory Down Under. Now you can bet your behind that Australian soccer will get the attention and publicity it deserves. I mean, even cricket-loving John Howard has jumped on the Socceroos bandwagon. And he ain't the only one. Check this out:

“And in the midst of wild celebrations, in walked John Travolta (!!!), in town for a promotional visit on behalf of Qantas. At the sight of the Hollywood superstar, the players, led by goalkeeper Zeljko Kalac, sprang into an impromptu chorus: ‘You’re the one that I want, wooh, ooh, ooh.’

Travolta is there, in the middle of the group, shaking his hips, singing at the top of his voice. Before he departs, hair wet with champagne, he tells the players: ‘That was the best game I’ve ever seen. You guys are awesome.’” ~~ www.smh.com.au

Awesome, indeed, they are.

OZ! OZ! OZ! Oi! Oi! Oi!

It's all about principle

I’m a person of evidence. If I see solid, hard proof for something, then and only then is it true.

I believe that there are two sides to every story. And I also believe spices get added to original tales be it deliberately or otherwise.

After reading Ju-Lee's version of things many question marks have popped up in my head, including:

- Why the hell did she latch the door? This is Malaysia, an Islamic country. Out-of-the-norm things that go on behind closed doors always spark suspicion of foul play. Especially in places such as public toilets, the home of many “kegiatan sumbang.”

- Why didn’t she get a guy friend to go with her to the toilet? Yes, she did ask a male acquaintance to go check him out, but she should’ve gone with him then before he went MIA, innit! Having another person there not only means he can warn people entering the loo that there’s a girl inside aiding her ill fiancé, but he might also help slash the idea of hanky-panky somewhat.

- With such health issues, why did they go to a smoke-filled, packed-like-sardines, nausea-inducing club in the first place? I’m not saying they have no right to do so, nor that whatever James suffered from that night was caused by the atmosphere, but the latter could’ve greatly contributed to the former. And on top of that, he was consuming alcohol? Hrmmm...

So, perhaps Ju-Lee didn’t handle the situation too well. But hey, tell me how many of us have got the ability to stop, think and act sensibly when overcome with panic and fear?

More importantly, no matter what the reason, no matter who kicked whom first, there’s no excuse for the bouncers to start beating people up. Especially not when there’re four of them as opposed to one helpless punter.

Oh, yeah. There were two recipients. Which is the only part of this incident that truly angers me.

MEN DON’T HIT WOMEN. PERIOD.

There are no two ways about it. Even from a young age, kids are taught to pick on someone their own size. Thus, men—especially bouncer-sized ones—shouldn’t whack ladies who are more delicate with their smaller builds and have less strength.

I don’t know what really happened that nite, and thus will not comment on the kind of punishments for the said bouncers on the basis of the other things (unprofessionalism, abuse of power, etc). But to me, Ju-Lee definitely has a case based on the kicks and punches that she received.

For this, I reckon the bouncers should each be thrown to four aggro beings which aren’t their own size and lack rational minds.

Like grizzly bears.

First

Had meself a coupla interesting firsts for me over the weekend.

The first “first” was the long-overdue debut of yours truly on the padang. Yup, I finally tried field football. See, a few of us Kucing Lior got offered to train under a certain Coach Andy. A rather strict chap, he is, but with a dash of humour.

His training regime is far from funny, though. “Jog seven rounds!” “Gotta raise that fitness level!” “Football is not like futsal--you have to play for FOURTY-FIVE MINUTES per half!” “No rolling substitutions!”  “Come on! No quitting! Don’t give up! I don’t want to hear ‘tired’ or ‘stop’!” While I am some kind of a sadist when it comes to sports training (I somehow enjoy being tortured, don't know why), I've gotta agree with my teammate Veena's "we're getting too old for this sh*t" notion. It ain't too easy to take instructions at this age, nah-uh. But I shan't give up just yet. Not when I'm just gettin started--and when I'm gettin free training!

Anyways, ball handling is kinda tricky. Soccer balls are much bouncier than futsal balls, and the field is so uneven there’s no telling where exactly the ball is gonna land. Not just that, the bumpy surface is kinda hard on the joints; my ankle (which gloriously sprained last June) and knees (recurring injuries… biasalah kalau main bola ;p ) felt very the pain, you knows. I guess (I hope) it just needs some getting used to.

But other than that, love love love the technical stuff. Few things are greater than that high you get from a blend of concentration, frustration and jubilation when learning new dribbles and other such skills. And the fact that I’m with my fellow beloved Catz is sheer bliss. Best gile. But penat woo!

Now, my second “first” was cooking. I mean, of course I’ve cooked many, many times before. But never with my beau  ;)  Ah, the joy of dating a man who can cook up a meal. The sight of him cutting, chopping, crushing… It’s truly something. Especially when you’re a woman who’s only so-so when it comes to culinary skills.

Last nite, we decided on pasta. Took us quite a while to settle for which style, but I insisted on spicy aglio e olio. Being a lover of garlic, I truly adore this dish and found Dome’s to be the best that I’ve ever tasted. Was trying to recall all the wonderful things that makes up the dish, but wasn’t successful as I haven’t had it in a while.

So, off we went to Sect. 14 PJ. To Dome, of course! My boo had a cup of long black, an excuse for me to have a look-see at the café’s menu. Heh.

Anyway, the result was only so-so. Give chan la, first-time try ma  ;p  Next time, must put in much much more chilli and especially garlic. It is “aglio e olio”, after all (which is Italian for “garlic and oil”). But nonetheless, I was rather pleased when Nik said “let’s work on this recipe. I really like the taste!”

Anyone out there got any pointers for making the best aglio e olio?

Still can't believe it's over

They say hard work and dedication will prevail. So then, would somebody please tell me why Lula is being sent home?

For those not in the know, Silvio Sergio Astor Guimaraés Machado, or more manja-ly known as Lula, was Malaysia’s national futsal coach from 2003 to 2005.

It truly pains me to have written that last sentence in the past tense. Why, you ask? Well, allow me to put things into perspective.

Firstly, I am an avid futsal fan and player—have been for the past three years or so—hence I’ve had front-row seats in witnessing the kind of struggle the sport has gone through to establish itself in Malaysia.

Secondly, prior to the Brazillian’s arrival in December 2002, what we thought was futsal was actually a bunch of footballers plucked from the outdoor fields and planted onto the smaller indoor courts. (Read: futsal knowledge=zero.)

Yes, three years is a mighty long time to prove yourself and your team as worthy forces to be reckoned with. And granted, I don’t deny that Lula has his shortcomings (temper, temper! No one on the squad—plus even some unlucky match officials—has ever been spared from his infamous maki hamun.) So, what has the past 36-or-so months brought in terms of accolades to Malaysian futsal?

Under Mr Machado’s guidance, the Malaysian futsal contingent joined seven international tournaments, out of which a total of 31 matches were played. Our boys pushed themselves to three finals, losing to SEA’s big guns Thailand twice (AFF Futsal Championship 2003 & 2005) but more importantly, clinching their first-ever Champion title from rivals Indonesia in front of a beaming home crowd at the KL World 5s 2003 (Bowl category).

All in all, Lula and his boys battled their way to a total of 13 wins, 1 draw and 17 losses. Make that just 13 losses, since the other four friendly-match call-ups in Chinese-Taipei should not be taken into consideration. Why? Well, I’ve discounted the said games because our squad only had one weeks’ worth of training.

Since we’re on the topic, I would like to open eyes and dawn some realisation onto the less learned. In his three-year reign as Head Coach of the Malaysian national futsal team, Lula only got to train his boys for a collective amount of 6.9 months. That’s a shocking 19.2% out of 36 months!

Thus, how anyone can expect—or worse still, demand—huge successes when the resources are puny is beyond me. Think about it. You’ve got a team which is less than 3 years old, and you get only, what, a week or two max to train (which includes preparing your players both physically and mentally, and revisit as well as introduce new technical and tactical stuff) prior to a major tournament!

That, coupled with the sad fact that Malaysia has neither professional futsal players nor national/professional leagues—a vital avenue of keeping players’ forms up during off-season—I find it amazing that the national team has come thus far. As Faarhad Masraf, a fellow active futsal fanatic (who also coaches team Dinamix, made up of budding junior futsallers, as well as men’s club side, Samba FC) cites: “Before this, we were only third string in AFF [Futsal Championship] and always were being outclassed by the Thais and Indos. But now, the Thais can only score small-margin wins over us, and they know for sure that given a bit more time (and with proper guidance), we can overturn the tables on the Thais and even compete among the best in Asia.”

Let’s study a comparison between us and our northern neighbours, who, after years of building futsal in their country, have been dubbed the honorary title of “The Brazil of Asia.”

Thailand has its own pro- and semi-pro leagues. Malaysia has "liga haram." A lot of Thai players train in Brazil. We had one Brazillian coach coming here to educate and make ends meet with limited support. Thailand constantly has international friendlies, in their country and overseas. Here, we only have "exhibition matches" (which is a rare occurrence) as well as friendlies with the top “liga haram" teams. In Thailand, futsal is part of the curriculum in schools and universities. In Malaysia, futsal is known only to a select group of people.

You’d probably be thinking “well, the Thai national futsallers deserve all that for their proven successes.” But get this: even Indonesia, considered at par with Malaysia in futsal years, is going out of their way to inject more power into their national team. A month before this year's AFC Futsal Tourney, their first team was flown to Spain (or was it Brazil? either way, this is a big deal as Spain are the current reigning World Champs, and Brazil is regarded as one of the globe's best as well) to train and gain overseas exposure. And what do our boys get? Fourteen days of centralised training after months of inactivity. Hallelujah.

Despite the hardship and lack of support, Lula fought on. With approval from FAM sans monetary allowance, Lula drafted and implemented futsal developments plans for various levels. Keep in mind that as national coach, he was only responsible for the national senior team. But the Brazillian was all too happy to go beyond his job scope, all in the name of ensuring that futsal—proper futsal, mind you—flourishes in our country.

With the help of other coaches, some national players and money dug out of his own pockets, Lula carried out programmes for the national Under-23, U-20, U-17 and even one called “Futsal For Beginners.” Other than that, he also shared his wisdom tirelessly with local club teams who seeked him out. Even small-fry ones like my ladies’ team, the Sports Barn Wildcatz, have had the honour of this great man gracing our training sessions. Slowly but surely, those who were monitoring the progress of their beloved game were both delighted and impressed by the kind of improvement that was unfolding before their very eyes.

In return, Lula expected nothing but commitment towards his cause; he wouldn’t even accept loot in exchange for coaching hours. It is this grand display of selflessness and fervour that earned him the adoration and respect of his players (who stuck with him despite receiving painful daily cursing and tongue-lashings) and many other devoted local futsal followers. It’s obvious that he does everything for the pure love of the game.

Why? Because Silvio Sergio Astor Guimaraés Machado, three-time Futsal World Cup winner, has pure faith in the talents that he’s seen in this country.

If only our own people have the same passion and belief embedded in them.

Lula, I thank and salute you. Your departure is definitely a great loss. God speed to you ... and especially to us.

Final thought: If we remain within the mindset of “only winning equals success,” how can sport ever “maju untuk negara?” Whatever happened to “sikit-sikit lama-lama jadi bukit?”

Lula flanked by his byebye-bidders made up of current- and ex-national players, Mr Jeysing Muthiah (formerly of FAM, currently of FIFA Development Office), Coach Faarhad Masraf (of Dinamix and Samba FC), Mr Stuart Ramalingam (of Sports Unlimited) and yours truly (of Sports Barn Wildcatz and goFutsal.com) during a special farewell buka puasa -- Oct'05

"My boys from Day 1." Lula pays homage to the ones who have stood by him from the start: Faizul (jersey #3, ala & captain of the Malaysian national futsal squad), Zaidi (jersey #1, goalkeeper), Addie Azwan (jersey #7, pivot) and Jamhuri (jersey #12, defender) -- Oct'05

"We'll miss you, coach!" said the current- and ex-national players to Silvio Sergio Astor Guimaraés Machado aka Lula -- Oct'05

Poemas del Alma

*WARNING: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T STOMACH MUSH! don't say I didn't warn u!*

Poems of the Soul. That's what my shweetheart handed to me tis morning for my birthday. It touches me that he knows how much words mean to me. And the fact that he went searching for ones in español, and bothered to struggle with their meanings via rather literal translations on the net, truly says a lot  ;)  Here's my own efforts of deciphering them, especialmente para mi bebé... Enjoy.

Amor Eterno
(por Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer)

Podrá nublarse el sol eternamente;
Podrá secarse en un instante el mar;
Podrá romperse el eje de la tierra
Como un débil cristal.
¡todo sucederá!
Podrá la muerte
Cubrirme con su fúnebre crespón;
Pero jamás en mí podrá apagarse
La llama de tu amor.

Eternal Love
(by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer)

The sun will be able to become cloudy eternally;
The sea will be able to dry up in an instant;
The axis of the earth will be able to be broken
Like a weak crystal.
Everything can happen!
Death will be able
To cover me with its funeral crepe;
But never in me, will it be able to extinguish
The flame of your love.

Sólo Tú
(por anónimo)

Sólo tú le das brillo y Amor a mi Corazón.
Sólo tú me miras con tanta pureza y belleza interior.
Sólo tú llenas de Alegría a mi Alma.
Sólo tú conoces mis secretos, deseos y anhelos.
Sólo tú me transmites calor con tus manos.
Sólo tú me das fuerzas para seguir viviendo.
Sólo tú me hablas con tanta dulzura.
Sólo tú me escuchas con tanta paciencia.
Sólo tú me acaricias con tanta delicadeza.
Sólo tú me besas con tanta ternura.
Sólo tú me comprendes con tanta sutileza.
Sólo tú haces que me sienta el Ser más Feliz del Universo.
Sólo tú me das tanta seguridad en mí misma.
Sólo tú me calmas y tranquilizas cuando estoy mal.
Sólo tú eres el que puede entrar en mi Corazón y en mi Ser.
Sólo tú me abrigas cuando tengo frío.
Sólo tú eres y serás el Dueño de mi Corazón.
Sólo tú eres mi Sueño hecho realidad.
Sólo tú eres y serás el que me ama y me amará siempre.
Sólo tú eres al que amo y amaré eternamente!

Only You
(by anonymous)

Only you give brightness and Love to my Heart.
Only you see me with as much purity and inner beauty.
Only you fill Joy to my Soul.
Only you know my secrets, desires and yearnings.
Only you transmit warmth with your hands.
Only you give me strength to go on living.
Only you speak to me with as much sweetness.
Only you listen to me with as much patience.
Only you caress me with as much gentleness.
Only you kiss me with as much tenderness.
Only you understand me with as much subtility.
Only you make me feel like the Happiest Being in the Universe.
Only you give me as much security just the same.
Only you calm me and bring tranquility when I am ill.
Only you are the one who can enter my Heart and my Being.
Only you shelter me when I am cold.
Only you are and will be the Owner of my Heart.
Only you are my Dream come true.
Only you are and will be the one who loves me and who will love me always.
Only you are the one who I love and will love eternally!

Muchas gracias, mi amor... Besitos y abrazitos, para siempre.

Morning Findings

My throat is sooo the pain. And my head is kinda spinning. Feels like I’m comin’ down with fever… yet again, argh! Is it just me, or does KL make you fall ill ever-so-often? Hrmmm…

Despite the soreness down my swallowing passage, I couldn’t resist going ahead with my breakfast experiment (hey, I’ve been dreaming of this moment since after lunch yesterday, okay!). Yes, people, I emptied a serving of the very lovely Cadbury’s Bytes into 200ml of Anlene. Must say I was a tad disappointed upon seeing that the contents of the purple pack didn’t even fill up half my mug. But, you see, I’m rather forgiving with quantity when I know that the taste is pure quality.

Unfortunately, though, the yummy choco-filled cereal puffs don’t mix well with milk. Unlike Kellogg’s Coco Pops--which transforms milk into chocolate milk, yum!--the Bytes and Anlene remained as separate entities.

My advice? Bytes em on its own  ;)

As for breakfast… Guess it’s back to Frosties+Milk for me!

Sweet November

I love November. Not just because it’s the sacred month which marks my entering this world (ahaks! hehe ;-Þ ). But tis also because usually October is sucky for me, and November never fails to please.

This year, early November meant tat I can start munching away during the day again (yes yes am truly elated at this fact, heh). Though I’ve said it in my last post, I’mma say it again: I love the Aidilfitri season. The beautiful sound of the takbir, the merry Raya tunes, the pretty clothes, the open houses, the goodies (rendang…lemang…ketupat and kuah kacang…yum!)… Man, I just love Hari Raya. It always feels like a fresh new beginning, even more so than 1st Jan.

Last Saturday, I was out rockin' away to the deep sounds of Seb Fontaine. Though I consider myself a retired clubber (I can’t even remember the last time I partied the nite away at a rave), but hey, it’s SEB FONTAINE! He’s always been at the top of my list of “The Greatest People Ever Lived.” The last time I was pumpin to his beats was also in November some three years ago. And I’m proud to shout that SEBBY IS STILL KING! Despite being only on a substance called H20, and having played futsal for about 4 hours earlier in the day (yes, futsal training is back!), I was dancing non-stop for 3+ hours--mostly on the podium, hahah! Yup, that’s how marvellously glorious Sebby was. The icing on the cake? When the lights came on, my sweetheart dragged me to the DJ console and asked Mr Fontaine: “hey do you mind if my girlfriend snaps a pic with you?” Shweet! A mwaX for Sebby, and mwaXmwaXmwaXXX for mi bebé  ;D 

Had a heart-pumping, chest-thumping experience of another kind last nite. It was the royal clash of the giants between the currently ridiculously off-form Manchester United and bloody on-form current EPL leaders Chelsea. Plagued with injuries to many key players ("What we face is young players who have to get consistency, the bones of the team are sitting in the stand, no use to us."--Sir Alex), my beloved Man U has been breaking fans' hearts with their poor displays lately. Last week’s 1-4 gang rape at ‘Boro and 0-1 failure to Lille were especially painful, and gotta admit I wasn’t hoping too much from last nite’s match. So, you can imagine the state of euphoria I was in when Darren Fletcher (of all people!) headed one home which looped over Petr Cech and John Terry in the 31st minute. And for the remaining hour-or-so, I swear mi corazón felt like it was gonna burst right through my ribs! But when the final whistle blew, it’s a precious, much-needed win for the men in Red. What makes it even sweeter was that just like rivals Arsenal's unbeaten record, we also halted Chelsea's--in the comfort of our own home, no less. Blessed art thou, o holy ground of Old Trafford.

“Old Trafford has become the most august cemetery in English football. Arsenal's unbeaten run of 49 Premiership matches was laid to rest here last season and now Chelsea's sequence, which lasted nine fixtures fewer, has also gone the way of all flesh. There was of course no hush and the mourners from London in the crowd were roundly jeered. It is still much too soon to say that Manchester United's reputation has been raised from the dead but their combativeness was resurrected yesterday.”--The Guardian

Now, the fact that it was Fletcher who scored the goal is a shocker indeed. So much diss has been thrown his way (e.g. “The midfielder had been among the more vilified performers in United's abject loss to Lille last week, so much so that a bitter fan valued him at 1p in a mock auction on the internet.”--don’t you just love The Guardian) but in all fairness, I’m sure this will shut the critics up even if just for a while. As my footie buddy/fellow Red Devil says: “If he ends up with the match winner, I take back all the things I’ve said about him.” Way to go, Fletcher! No, am not a fan of the Scotsman (mon coeur still belongs to my all-time fave Giggs as well as my new toyboys Ronaldo and Heinze), but I think people should really cut him some slack and leave the poor kid alone. Fletcher's only 21--even Zidane was unknown when he was that age!

Anyways, I digress. Back to why my November has been Sweet. Over lunch just now, while doing my usual daily round in Kiosk, I discovered this little shiny purple bag of cereal. The product description? “Puf Bijirin dengan inti Krim Coklat” The name? Bytes. The brand? Cadbury’s, baby! It’s SOOO SEDAPPP, I tell you. All you choc lovers, try it and weep! No prizes for guessing what I'll be having for breakfast tomorrow, mmmyummmmm...

The much-awaited arrival of Eid, the resurrection of Wildcatz's training session, the return of Seb Fontaine, the victory of Red over Blue, the discovery of Bytes. All these, and it’s only the 7th today. Did I mention tat I just love November?

Blowfish

That's what I feel like right now. A bloated, bulat being. And why not, after having stuffed my face with fat-ladden Aidilfitri sweets and savouries for the past 48 hours. Thank gosh for futsal training tomorrow.

I love Hari Raya. For reasons obvious (hey, tis a real challenge for me to abstain from munching during the day, okay!) but more importantly, sentimental. Call me traditional or old-fashioned, but there's just no beating the feeling I get when I hear those evergreen tunes, and especially the takbir Raya. Sayu sangat rasa hati.

I get all wishy washy inside during the festives, as I'm reminded of those who have left me. Of how I wish I could see them one last time, to tell them how much they mean to me.

Of course, Hari Raya also means that I'm reunited with those that I haven't seen in a while. Today, as with the past few years' 2nd Rayas, was the "29th July" day. Yup, every year on 2 Syawal, my wifey Qaty and ex-housemate Shasha (both 29 July babies) will welcome me to their open houses. But this year it's extra-special. Because 2nd Raya 2005 had me witnessing these two lovely ladies add on something so amazing to their list of personal accomplishments--feeding their "mini thems." Still can't believe that you two sweets are mommies!

Seeing them with their loving hubbies and gorgeous babies struck a chord inside of me. As a wide-eyed teenager, I had a dream of having three kids by 30. As my age grew higher, I've extended this deadline--3 by 35.

But now, it seems that for me to realise even one by 30 is totally unlikely. Don't get me wrong, I do want to get married, and am totally head-over-heels in love with my darling beau (whom I'm sure will be reading this post...and I'm hoping that he won't get the wrong idea here...am just spillin my mind k bebé). It's just that I've seen so many marriages around me fail, and this has embedded paranoia in me somewhat.

But then again, I still have faith in this wisdom: "It's better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all." Plus, I'm sure the future would be bleak if it's gonna be sans junior Selinas  ;) 

Anywho, I think this blowfish is just highly intoxicated with fatty foods at this moment. No worries--deflating process starts now...