Tagged!

Tagged! (by The Jah aka Once an Ayam Serama)

• Link to your tagger and post these rules.

* List eight (8) random facts about yourself.
* Tag eight people at the end of this post and list their names.
* Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving them a comment on their blogs.

I honestly don’t know what to do when I get tagged.

Is this like the game “Tag! You’re It!!”… followed by main kejar-kejar, where you run like mad after someone and touch any part of that person, and either you run away from him/her (because he/she’s now the catcher) or you sit down, which means he/she has to run after someone else instead. So, say it is like the physically exhausting game, what happens if I choose to sit down? Do I have to wait for someone to ‘sep’ me, before I can carry on blogging?

Cool… Works perfectly. Ok, so the reason for me not being able to update is because I have yet to wait for anyone to ‘sep’ me. Meaning, I’ll have to wait forever.

But in the mean time, The Jah, this is for you.


*By own admission, I’m a control freak. I have to do things which I plan to do, My Way, or No Way. Don’t get me wrong, if I’m told to do a task, and there’s instructions on how the end product will be, then I will produce the end product, by hook or by crook. It will be done and it will be awesome (lah di daa di daa). Just don’t interfere on how it is to be done. I don’t just swell up 3 times bigger, I might just be a little life threatening.

* I usually look at things differently from how others would.

If someone sees a leather clad guy sporting a mohawk, one would think that this person is a misfit, running wild in a dangerous group… I would be thinking how uncomfortable his sleep must be with all that standing hair, and that all that leather must be making him feel unpleasantly hot. We both would feel pity for the guy, but for very different reasons. If there is a bunch of monkeys while walking along the road, one would turn back for fear of being attacked, or clutch a long stick to fend them off… I would be so excited, and would run up to them to gawk at their natural habitat, to stare at the young clutching at their momma’s tummy, all the time chattering away to them… and I would not be attacked. If it was at a mall at 1pm, one would not even venture into the parking lot unless they’ve got ‘Preferred Parking’ passes or park high, high up or far, far away…. I would just think that someone who had an early lunch would surely be making her way out now, and I’ll drive head on into the full parking lot, and voila… right in front, a car is driving out.

Don’t blame me. I’m just wired differently.

* I like all things weird, bloody and gory.

I like scary movies, spooky hauntings, objects slaughtered, ripped off or skinned alive, fatal accidents, mass bloodshed and the list goes on. Expecially if it happens to deserving people. I think, that could run in the blood. We were watching a Spanish matador bull-fight on telly one night, and Dad was whole heartedly cheering and goading… for the bull to step on the Matador’s skull. His exact words, “Kill the bugger!”

Chromosome defects cannot be explained, just understood.

* I don’t eat, I graze.

I eat when I feel like eating, not because it’s required of me. When I want to eat, even a starved oink-oink would be put to shame. But if I choose not to, its because I have other important things on my mind… like mentally choosing between a turquoise sheer blouse or an orchard brown glitzy top, or busily contemplating when I can fake an outside client meeting just to purchase the item, and serious follow up pondering of when and where the hoot do I get to wear the item when I do purchase it.

Such serious issues need more brainwork than eating. Of course its also due to my feelings of empathy towards the Myanmar typhoon and China earthquake victims. Of course, of course. That goes without saying.

(“ … slinks away with head hung relatively low, due to great, unexplained shame…”).

* I have to walk on the left of a person walking by my side.

I am not deaf in the left ear, neither do I have a limp in either leg. I’m just so used to tilt my head to the right to talk to the person next to me. If I attempt to do the opposite, I would automatically be off-balance. I will trip over my own feet, I will start getting paralysingly annoyed and I cannot promise that I wouldn’t end up eating the head of the person who’s mere bad luck was to walk on My left.

* I dislike physical activities with a vengeance.

I did play basketball in school, I went for jungle trekking and camped by rivers in my younger days, I grudgingly followed an exercise routine after the births of each Decepticon, and done my fair share of running and skipping merely to entertain them.

Today, I make monthly payments as a member of a fitness centre (more of they just deduct it from my card), and on last count, the last time I’ve paid them a visit was precisely 1 ¾ years ago. Hey, it’s the thought that counts. Your rolls of fat surprisingly melts away when you make the effort to keep them away… in my case, its done by telepathic transmission of being a gym member.

My nonexistent ‘muskel’ can be seen with sheer determination of the mind. Betul. Tak tipu. I see them. Bulging lagi…

*I prefer reading to watching television, forced conversations or any other activity which remotely hints of physical exertion (shopping excluded).

* I’m a big fan of Indonesian music, and I’m not the slightest bit embarrassed to admit it. I don’t buy albums though, I just download them into my iPod. So yes, I’m a free-loader. Tough. So sue me.

I feel so self-centred, writing a piece on “I, I, I”. So like diva only. And because of point 7, I don’t have 8 friends to tag. Consider me as a non-tagger. The Jah, my job is done. I now choose to snooze for another month.