web counter The Madness of MokcikNab: Guilty Pleasures
The Madness of MokcikNab
Motives, movements and melodrama in the life of a thirty something mum.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Guilty Pleasures

We celebrated Father's Day on Saturday, because I had to work on Sunday night; and as far as family celebrations are concerned, nothing happens without me. It's not a boast; it is an exasperating fact. Someone else, please take over this Ms Organiser mantle. Mak dah penat.

We had a huge dinner at a tex-mex place, but due to the sheer impossibility of getting everyone to agree on a reasonable schedule, the dinner started at 6pm. Everyone wanted to leave by eight. Some, like my husband had a valid reason. The rest, were AFUNDI slaves.

It's shameful, we had our priorities all wrong and we do apologize to Pokku for losing perspective. But on that Saturday, (or on any Saturday from henceforth) all we could think about was getting our butts in front of the TV, before 8.30.

My brother, Mr Intellectual (it's sarcasm, Firhad) was non-plussed.

"You? Of all people? You're also on this Akademi Fantasia craze, thereby ratifying the commercial principles of the Yusoff Haslams and the Razak Mohaideens of the world?"

"Errr", I was sheepish, " it's fun, what."

What can I do? I am plebeian in parts. I watch Malaysian Idol, too -- I like the drama of all these reality shows, no matter how contrived.

I confess, when the Sunday papers arrive, I don't read the Forums or the Clever Interviews and Analysis first, I go straight for the Pancaindera gossip section.(Oooh, those drag queens know their dirt) Then I'll gawp at the bright and shiny woman on the cover, and speculate how much surgery and Vitamin C injections made this shoot possible. Bitchy lah, but fun,what.

There's a certain liberty in being low-brow, that I sometimes find refreshing. Can I not be clever all the time? Mr Intellectual can enjoy his Jose Luis Borges (thank you for returning my copy, by the way), let me have my pedestrian pleasures. At least it means I can hold a decent conversation with the neighbourhood maids.


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