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The Madness of MokcikNab
Motives, movements and melodrama in the life of a thirty something mum.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Call Me

Over the weekend, I had a Small Medical Emergency, prompted perhaps by stress or too much walking around. Like all Small Medical Emergencies, it was an unexpected Small Medical Emergency, because I didn't know I had a medical condition in the first place. Things worked out in the end, that is to say, I took care of the emergency, averted a hospital stay, and the doctor prescribed me little more than advice to lie down and rest. That I didn't do, but I guess I'll only pay for that later, bila dah tua-tua.

The Small Medical Emergency is not what I want to tell you about; because as you may notice, I'd like to keep its details rather private. What I'm happy about is the upshot of the Small Medical Emergency. Two good things came out of it : one, my husband had a dramatic excuse to come home earlier than scheduled, and two, I bought myself a new phone, which the guilt-ridden husband has said he will pay for.

The phone was chosen more for looks than practicality : it's a black RAZR V3 : sexy but fiddly, although I hear in a woman those are not exactly bad things. I actually prefer my old and fat A 760, to be honest. The RAZR, of course is not top of the line anymore, since it has been supplanted by the SLVR as the Motorola of Choice (Personally, I want the ROKR, but since in Malaysia, you can't buy songs from iTunes anyway, it's rather superflous. Might as well just get a Nano and a phone) Still, in certain circles, it may yet have some mileage in eksyen factor -- like, you can confidently whip it out in the LRT, and imagine some jealous side-stares. Of course, you can't get the same effect in classier places, like Pasar Besar Taman Tun, for example, where the shopping ladies will just take one look at your RAZR, sniff, and continue sms-ing the grandchildren on their Vertu's. I don't know of any classier place, because, well, I ride the LRT.

Having bought a nice new phone, I then proceeded to fill it up with downloads. Even though I am perhaps not the demographic my service provider was aiming for, I nevertheless, spent a small wad of money on caller tunes (and worse, did this on GPRS). Here's the list on my jukebox (and here you can guess my age) :

Close to Me -- The Cure
Friday I'm in Love -- The Cure
Stay (Faraway, so Close) -- U2
Desafinado - Stan Getz
All These Things That I Have Done - The Killers

I am so happy about having caller tunes that I pathetically, call myself up just to hear the changing songs. Or I send provocative messages to people so that they'll call me up and then the first thing I ask them when they do is : tadi lagu apa you dengar? My mother noticed it, although sadly, she incorrectly identified Joao Gilberto as an Italian man singing an Italian song, which is a marvel, really, considering that in the first ten years of her marriage, my father must have played every single record with the name Stan Getz, Gilberto (Joao and Astrud) or Charlie Byrd on it, and she ought to know every bossanova number just by the first bar.

But I ramble on. What I'm really, really ecstatic about is that my husband's coming home; and he has a watertight excuse to do so. I'm blogging now to while away the time, before I take the trip to KLIA, and meet my baby.


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