they. have arrived. January 17, 2007

long after Ravi had started breathing slowly into my neck last night, i was thinking (and getting excited) about cooking nasi lemak (coconut rice) and nasi goreng ikan bilis (fried rice with anchovies) today. i finally dozed off at 0530.

nasi lemak, my comfort food. nasi goreng ikan bilis, Ravi’s comfort food, the one thing he can subsist on every single day. that, and a combination of Coke and Snickers would keep him happy for life. going by the informal survey i conducted of our (drunk and sweaty) mamak friends while we were dancing at Asoka back in Singapore a long time back, i’m sure half the mamaks out there can also survive solely on nasi goreng ikan bilis.

it was the first time cooking both, the nasi lemak isn’t as lemak as i’d have liked and the nasi goreng ikan bilis is a tad salty (not saltish, you freakazoids) but i’m betting Ravi won’t even realise – i’d developed low salt tolerance growing up with a mother with high blood pressure.

will refrigerate the nasi lemak and heat it up with an extra cup of coconut milk tomorrow.

i prance around braless at home, and whenever someone rings our doorbell, i frown.

being Asian (and Muslim) has long indoctrinated some kind of shame with regards to letting it all hang loose in public. to be a lady, one must be modest. humph.

it can get even more annoying when someone rings your doorbell just as you are frying/drying shrimp paste on the stove and trying not to choke on toxic fumes. belacan can really, really stink. and when half the people who ring your doorbell are door-to-door salesmen selling mostly pirated DVDs whispering “ma’am, wool ewe laik sum deeveedeez?”, you’d stop answering the door altogether.

usually, i’d open the door only if the person rings twice (unless you are that freak the other day who rang my doorbell 8 times, then knocked 5 times – get the hint, buster) cos there must be some urgency then, right? on another occasion, i was tempted to open the door to a Pinoy fella with a chef’s hat and neon orange apron, until it occured to me he might bash my brain in with a rolling pin. though, really, he was more likely to surprise me with curry puffs out of his apron pockets like a rabbit out of a hat.

so i threw my cardi on, saw it was one of our security guards, hid my ass in indecent shorts behind the door and unlocked the door. i was convinced he was gonna say, “madam, the neighbours are complaining about that very nasty smell emanating from your home” and i was ready to invite him in for some “delicious Indonesian fried rice that comes after that really nasty shrimp paste stench” but then i looked down and spotted this huge flatpacked item.

“eez theez youre naym?” he enquired.

“yes! yes! yes!” i jumped out from behind the door, jiggling boobies and indecent buttocks hanging loose for all to see, stood there for an extra five seconds bent over and did a crazy makarena jiggle.

no, i simply replied, “yes, it is, thank you very much.” and took the package in, carefully manouvering my body in such a way that my buttcheeks stayed out of plain view.

they are now here, where they belong, instead of some drain pipe somewhere or in a dusty corner of some inefficient post office. and they are breathtaking.

i cannot, just cannot describe how !*^!~!!#$*%^$&!!!!, !!!!, !!!! i am feeling right now.