Time for a Massage

During Puasa we go back at 12.30 and this gives me lots of time to book massage and facial after school.
Luckily too, because as Raya got nearer, the jam started getting worse, and all I wanted was to rush home before it starts!!!


Established in 2007, "T H" provides wholesome and extensive beauty treatments. Armed with years of valuable experience in the beauty industry and more than 15 branches has successfully touched our guests with the zest of professionalism along with specially patented modern technologies.

"T H" offers a wide range of specialized facial, slimming and massage therapy treatments specially tailored to suit your needs.

Journey with us and experience an invigorating sensory indulgence that promises to nourish your mind, rejuvenate your body and lift your spirit."

Journey with us and experience an invigorating
sensory indulgence that promises to nourish your mind,
rejuvenate your body and lift your spirit."

My bed for massage

I chose Aromatherapy Massage

Types of Facial available: SIMPLY WHITE SPEED PASS ACNE AGE FREEZE IRON-OUT WRINKLES Types of Massage: CELLULITE LHYMPHATIC MASSAGE VOLCANIC STONES MASSAGE AROMATHERAPY MASSAGE

Time for Facial

"N" Skin Solutions at 7th Haven was going to move to out, so I went for my last facial there:
It is such a pity because I found it convenient to go there after school for my facials.  The first salon that closed was Cosmetique.

"N" Skin Solutions
"N " Skin Solutions places great emphasis on achieving immediate results for customers in a quick and hassle-free way. Our customized facial programmes are designed to effectively improve and treat your skin problems, giving you crystal-clear skin. After all, beautiful skin goes beyond skin deep!

"N" loves to give you fantastic face masks:
this one is linen soaked in beauty treatment
that will seep into your skin and impart its
properties

I was so bored, I peeled off the eye pads
and took self photos

Next, she plastered another mask that
caked when it dried.  She would take the whole
thing off (like Phantom of the Opera's mask)
and kerplunk! toss it into the bin where it will fall
with a dull thud.

Does my complexion look radiant?
Masked and caked?

Contraptions that looked scarier than the abortion clinic.

My teenage affair with a teacher damaged me for life

She was a naive 16-year-old when she fell in love with her geography master. Only now can Christina see it was abuse, not romance

By Christina Morris

Last updated at 11:38 PM on 26th October 2011

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More than 20 years ago, this writer who contributes regularly to the Daily Mail, became embroiled in a sexual relationship with her teacher. For legal reasons, we are protecting her identity.

For a gauche 16-year-old, newly arrived from a strict all-girls’ boarding school cosseted away in the West Sussex countryside, the first day of term at an urban sixth form college was a bewildering experience.
The very fact my parents had agreed to let me do my A-levels in a co-ed environment — instead of at the sixth form of a single-sex private school — was, frankly, a triumph.
I think even my parents could see it was  time for me to learn how to talk to boys. Until that point, the only man I’d had any daily contact with for eight years was the school caretaker. So there I was, clutching my new bag and worrying over the clothes it had taken me weeks to choose — a polka-dot skirt, tights and ankle boots.

School girl crush: Christina thought her teacher loved her but only now realises she was abused (posed by model)

As I tentatively pushed open the door to my assigned form-room, I saw a man in his mid-30s wearing jeans and cowboy boots. He was leaning back in a chair, his feet up on the desk. Looking me up and down, he said: ‘Hi. I’m Mr Martin. Did someone pay you to wear that outfit?’

I remember blushing, then feeling livid with myself for making it so obvious how out of my depth I felt. This man, whoever he was, had been assigned as my personal tutor, someone responsible for my welfare at college, who was also charged with steering me through my A-level in geography.
A person in authority had never spoken to me like that before and I had no idea how to respond. I later learnt this was a typical exchange for Mr Martin — or Ben, as he preferred to be called. He used insults as a way of breaking down the teacher-pupil barrier and encouraging us to communicate with him on an equal level. He loved witty banter and seemed to prefer students who were able to deliver sharp ripostes.

WHO KNEW?
In a recent survey, 15 per cent of 11-19-year-olds said they had been molested by an adult

It was all very strange to someone used to more traditional teaching methods — standing up when an adult entered the room, for example, and putting up your hand before asking a question.
It soon became clear these quaint habits of mine, drummed into me through years of disciplined schooling, gave Mr Martin plenty of ammunition. I soon became the butt of his jokes. ‘Sharpened your pencil, Christina?’ he’d inquire, as I arrived for a lesson. ‘Got an apple for me?’ he’d ask at the end.
Obviously, he was goading me, but I still have no idea why he singled me out. Most of my classmates were more streetwise and would have given him a better run for his money. I was self-conscious, awkward and acutely aware of sounding too posh. Perhaps he found this endearing.
One day he asked me to stay behind after school and help him catalogue some books in the staff room. We were on our own and I decided to ask why he was always picking on me. I don’t know what I expected, but he walked out from behind his desk and put his arms around me.
‘Don’t you realise it’s a sign of affection?’ he asked. It’s probably obvious to any adult reading this now what I should have done. But I was an impressionable  16-year-old with no experience of boys or men. Suddenly this man — 6ft tall, his brown hair streaked with grey — was telling me he liked me. Could I hear alarm bells?

Battle of wits: In the beginning of their relationship, Christina's teacher would flirt with her in class (posed by model)

Of course not. I tumbled headlong into a crush that was to consume my every waking moment for the next two years. At the start, I didn’t expect my feelings to be reciprocated. Mr Martin was head of a department and, ironically, responsible for my welfare. He was also married.
To my shame, this wasn’t something I reflected on. In my immaturity, it was the fact he was my teacher that seemed the greatest obstacle to us being together. As time passed, my feelings must have been glaringly obvious. I couldn’t stop blushing and I would find any excuse to stroll past Mr Martin’s office.
In class, I lost my inhibitions and started answering back. To his  delight, I became bolder at returning his insults. I wonder what my classmates must have thought, as lessons were often a battleground between the two of us.
‘Did you leave your brain at home, Christina?’ he’d challenge. ‘Did you leave your hairbrush?’ I’d retort.
The shift from blatant flirting to physical contact was a smooth one. It began six months later, at the start of the summer term, with a hand on my back as he steered me though a door, then a foot nudging mine under a table during a lesson. He never acknowledged these touches, but I understood what he was saying and knew what was unfolding.

I can’t pretend I was the innocent party: I wanted his attentions more than I wanted anything else in the world. Certainly, the fact we were harbouring a secret so dangerously explosive made it a heady aphrodisiac for both of us. The first time he kissed me, towards the end of that first academic year, was one evening in the staff room, against a row of books on seismic activity. I remember thinking the earth had moved, but all he could say was: ‘You understand you can never tell anybody about this?’ I said I did: I would have done anything for him.
Caught up in what I perceived to be a grand romance, it is significant that I felt unable to raise the subject of sex. I didn’t want to appear presumptuous but, at the same time, I felt he should know I was a virgin. Yet, the idea of bringing this up made me tense.  We were, by now, kissing whenever and wherever we got the chance — once, brazenly, at the end of a lesson as the last pupil left the room. But we never discussed what was going on. I didn’t want to pin him down or rock the boat with a conversation about what we were doing, so I kept my mouth shut.

After that first time... we fell into a pattern of driving back to my house after college and having sex on a rug on the kitchen floor

It’s probably inevitable that when we finally did have sex, it was a let-down. By then, our secret affair (if you can call it that) had been going on for six months. One day, just after my 17th birthday, Ben offered to drive me home from college — not something he had ever done before. We barely spoke during the drive; I was aware of an unspoken sense of anticipation. As we pulled into my driveway, he turned to look at me and put his hand on mine. I think we both knew what was about to happen and, just for a second, I wanted time to stand still.
What ensued seems surreal when I remember it. Like some kind of Lolita, I took his hand and asked if he wanted to see my bedroom. Upstairs, we sat awkwardly on the edge of my single bed. Then he took off his shoes and beckoned for me to lie down next to him. It was made worse by the fact I was in my childhood bedroom surrounded by teddies and Duran Duran posters, knowing my mother was due home from work at any moment. By the time she came through the front door, 30 minutes later, we were sitting at the kitchen table with a cup to tea.
She was flustered to find a teacher in the house. I’d had no time to process my emotions about what had happened — and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. Ben, on the other hand, immediately launched a charm offensive, accepting biscuits from my mother and assuring her it was no problem to have given me a lift home.
In fact, it had been an opportunity to discuss my A-level syllabus. After that first time, which he never knew was my first time, we fell into a pattern of driving back to my house after college and having sex on a rug on the kitchen floor. We didn’t want to risk going upstairs again in case we couldn’t hear my mother coming in, although Ben always left in plenty of time to avoid another parental encounter.
We had sex once a week for the last six months of our relationship and I was so lucky not to get pregnant, because we didn’t use contraception. Insane, I know. One day I asked Ben if we were having an affair. ‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ he said. It seems unbelievable, when I cast my mind back now, not just that no one suspected what was going on, but also that I was able to stumble through my last year at school and get any work done at all. I’ll never forget the fact Ben was invigilating my A-level.
Everyone had their heads down, focused on their exam papers. But as he walked past my desk, he had the audacity to touch the back of my neck and wink. The only person I confided in was my best friend, who thought it was rather exciting that I was involved with a teacher. I suppose it seemed very grown-up.
I don’t know how I expected it all to end. Still, nothing was discussed. The snatched moments we had in the staff room, his car or my parents’ kitchen weren’t wasted on talking, but I believed it was love. Well, what did I know? I regarded him as my first boyfriend. It should have been no surprise that when that final term ended, Ben congratulated me on getting a B in geography and wished me luck at university.
He would, of course, try to write, but things would be busy over the next few months as his wife was heavily pregnant. I remember staring at him, my eyes blurred with tears and my throat burning with the effort not to cry. How could I make a scene? I’d never even told him how I felt, never staked a claim or admitted how much I loved him.
In truth, he probably thought it had all been a bit of fun. He had no idea what the last two years had meant to me. To say I was heartbroken would be an under-statement. I somehow managed to hide my feelings from my parents, staying in my room for most of that summer holiday, desperate for a postcard, a phone call, anything.
I thought about contacting him, but I had no way of doing so — no phone number, no address, no way of knowing where he was. Of course, there was no contact from him. And so that September, with no enthusiasm whatsoever, I headed off to university feeling jaded and depressed.
All too predictably, I dropped out after one year. But it took me a lot longer than that to get over what had happened with Ben. Did I mean nothing to him at all? I’ve never understood what he saw in me or why he did it.
I still feel a pang of loss, probably as things ended so abruptly and he never explained his feelings. I was left hanging and for years I wasn’t interested in boys my own age.
They seemed so immature and, of course, there wasn’t the same excitement factor. Falling in love with an older man is like running before you can walk. For a long while normal relationships seemed dull in comparison. It wasn’t until a year after leaving university that I felt able to fall in love again.
I’ve been married for many years now, but I still think about Ben. I’m not sure you ever forget your first love. I hear he’s done well for himself and is now the head of a private school. Presumably, it’s his job to sack teachers who abuse the trust of parents who are paying a fortune to send their children there. I’ve often wondered if I was the only one. It would be flattering to think I was, but I doubt that was the case. Ben took all those risks once, so it would be naive to think he didn’t try it with other girls.
I don’t want to sound bitter: after all, I should have known better myself. But now that I’m a mother with three daughters of my own, I look back at my teenage self and want to cry for her. For the first time, I can see how vulnerable she was, how fragile was her need to be loved and accepted.
As for you, Mr Martin, I hope that baby of yours was a girl. And I hope she gave you sleepless nights as a teenager, staying out all night with her hell-raiser boyfriend. At least that way you’d have known she wasn’t being abused by her teacher.

The names in this article have been changed.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2053883/My-teenage-affair-teacher-damaged-life.html#ixzz1bxhlsoy7

WARNING TO ALL STUDENTS: DON'T GET INVOLVED WITH YOUR TEACHERS!!!! YOU WILL BE THE VICTIM (MANGSA)

22 Oct 2011: Fusion Restaurant @ Damansara Utama, Petaling Jaya, Selangor

Whenever Uncle Siang is in town,

we go for a family dinner.  

This time it is at Fusion Restaurant, Uptown.

LocationDamansara Utama, Petaling Jaya, Selangor

55-57, Jln SS21/60, Damansara Utama, 46300 Selangor

CuisineFusion

Fusion serves “tai chow” dishes and also ala-carte noodles/rice.

Braised tofu, fuchok and snow peas

claypot curry with fish slices

sizzling hot plate prawns

butter chicken

mushroom omelette

our dinner

string beans

ice kacang for dessert

then I popped next door and bought 2 cakes for the October birthday persons

cakes from Tong Kee

What is Fusion cuisine?
Fusion cuisine is general term for the combination of various forms of cookery, and the concept can take several forms. One approach is regional fusion that combines different cuisines of a region or sub-region into a single eating experience. Of this sort, Asian fusion restaurants have become popular in many parts of the United States and United Kingdom, often featuring South Asian, East Asian, and South-East Asian dishes alongside one another and offering dishes that are inspired combinations of such cuisines. (from Wikepedia)




Where is Uptown?

SS21, especially the Uptown offices project, is the commercial hub of Damansara Utama, which houses the Malaysian offices of many multinational companies such as Federal Express, Novell, Embedded Wireless Labs, Logica, L'Oréal, Nike, Agilent, Symantec, Deloitte, Unisys, Tetra Pak, IBM and ISUZU.
There are many shops within the Uptown area. Among them are restaurants, opticians, fashion houses and miscellaneous goods.
There are also a few banks including foreign banks that have set up their branches within the area.

• Maybank
• Public Bank
• RHB Bank
• AmBank
• CIMB Bank
• Hong Leong Bank
• Alliance Bank
• Standard Chartered
• UOB
• OCBC
• HSBC
• Ryzo Coperation

Although Damansara Utama does not have any shopping malls, it is in proximity to several shopping complexes in Bandar Utama, where most of the former's residents do their shopping. These shopping malls include the 1 Utama shopping complex, The Curve, IKEA and the Ikano Power Centre as well as The Atria in Damansara Jaya. Damansara Utama used to have more than 20 pubs in its heyday. Today only a few are left due to high drink prices and stiff competition from new suburbs like Damansara Perdana.

Verdict?
Ambience:
AirCon a tad hot, not a new place, crowded and dark lighting.
Food:
The children loved the happy mix of the "fusion" but the oldies (me and the husband) did not care for it.
Give me pure Chinese cuisine, or authentic Western fare,or plain Malay lauk, anyday. fusion? It takes getting used to.
Location:
Uptown is very happening, with lots of eateries, and businesness (closed for the night)

Petulant, brittle,abrasive, cuttingly dismissive, cantankerous.

English lesson? No!
All the words above describe STEVE JOBS!!


He was mean, abrasive and cuttingly dismissive of co-workers in his quest for perfection.


He was not warm or fuzzy.


He was very petulant. He was very brittle. He could be very very mean to people at times.


To a waitress in a restaurant or to a guy who had stayed up all night coding, he could really just go at them and say "You are doing this all wrong. It's horrible"


He was pretty abrasive and a cantankerous character.


When  building a fence with his adopted father, he said "You got to make the back of the fence that nobody will see just as good looking as the front of the fence.  That will show that you are dedicated to making something perfect"


He was the world's worst managers.
He was always upending things.
Throwing things into a turmoil.
This made great products, but it didn't make for a great management style.


http://www.google.com.my/#q=jobs+was+not+warm+and+fuzzy&hl=en&rlz=1W1GGNI_en-GBMY452&prmd=imvnsu&source=univ&tbm=nws&tbo=u&sa=X&ei=73CnToreOMvJrAff2YHHDQ&sqi=2&ved=0CCsQqAI&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&fp=d8793f6a77242b6d&biw=1525&bih=716

http://news.yahoo.com/biography-sheds-light-steve-jobs-life-191945751.html;_ylt=AiWnHG_PttEac71nZOHqLWKyBhIF;_ylu=X3oDMTN0bzNmYmhmBG1pdANUb3BTdG9yeSBCdXNpbmVzc1NGBHBrZwNlNjE0YzJhNS04MjRlLTNiOTMtOGU5ZC04NDU0NDI2OTJhYTAEcG9zAzgEc2VjA3RvcF9zdG9yeQR2ZXIDM2Q1MGI3NDAtZmI2YS0xMWUwLWI3ODMtYjY4MWEzNGYwOWVh;_ylg=X3oDMTFtcHBmZ2VxBGludGwDdXMEbGFuZwNlbi11cwRwc3RhaWQDBHBzdGNhdANidXNpbmVzcwRwdANzZWN0aW9ucw--;_ylv=3

Gadhafi buried in secret site in Libyan desert

Flamboyant and grandiose in life, Moammar Gadhafi was buried in secrecy and anonymity, laid to rest in an unmarked grave before dawn in the Libyan desert that was home to his Bedouin tribal ancestors

.http://news.yahoo.com/gadhafi-buried-secret-libyan-desert-211956286.html

(I am not  a supporter of the great "G" nor am I am sympathetic to his country "L"

but I love the words "flamboyant, grandiose in life, buried in secrecy and anonymity, unmarked grave."

Plus, I did not know he was descended from the Bedouin tribes!!!! )

Mugwort or Motherwort

When I was a young girl living in a shop house

in a small town, my mom had a mugwort patch

the way people had a pumpkin patch.

My earliest memory was when Mom will say "May, 

go to the garden to get me a bunch of Ngei!"

And she will make soup with it.

Or fry mussels with it.

I hated it. We kids hated it! It tasted pungent,

and it was from our garden, it grew like weeds!!

We turned up our  noses at ngei!!!

When the waiter brought this omelette dish, Loo

(my friend, same name) said:

"I don't know what it is in English 

but in Hakka it is NGEI!!"

OMG, NGEI!!!

I have not heard of this word for 30 years

and I have not tasted Ngei for as many years!

 Ngei in Hakka means Ants!
In Hokkien it is called "Hia"

you can see the chinese name
and the English name is mugwort
or motherwort
http://www.google.com.my/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=0&oq=motherw&hl=en-GB&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4GGNI_en-GBMY452MY453&q=motherwort

this is what ngei looks like,
It is a wonder herb.

the owner produced this article when
Teo asked him what the name of
the veg is in Chinese and English

it can be pounded and used as a poultice for all ills

There are several references to the Chinese using mugwort in cuisine. The famous Chinese poet Sū Shì (蘇軾) in the 11th century mentioned it in one of his poems. There are even older poems and songs that can be tracked back to 3 BC. Mainly it was called lóuhāo (蒌蒿) or Ai Tsao (艾草 zh:艾草) in Mandarin. Mugwort can be prepared as a cold dish or can be stir-fried with fresh or smoked meat. The Hakka Taiwanese also use it to make chhú-khak-ké (鼠麹粿, 草仔粿).
Mugwort is used in the practice of traditional Chinese medicine in a pulverized and aged form called moxa.

I wished I had a picture of my mother's mugwort patch, it grew like weeds, luxuriant and happy after the rain!

Mugwort Omelet

Serves 2

Ingredients:

a handful of mugwort leaves, chopped
3 organic eggs, beaten
100ml water
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp of light soy sauce

Steps:

1. Mix the chopped mugwort leaves with beaten egg. Season it with a tbsp of light soy sauce.

2. Heat up oil in a wok, fry the omelet till cooked. Over-turn to fry the other side.

3. When the omelet is cooked, divide it into portions. Add water and bring to a boil. Dish up and serve hot.

(from "eating pleasure, little inbox recipe")

Hakka Yuen Restaurant....Thunder Tea

Friday, 21 October 2011, after school,

we came here for Hakka Lunch!

Situated in Cheras, Yu Lek Garden
Jalan Kaskas.

You cannot miss this shop!!!

Hakka.......my heritage and roots!

Loo and Teo are already placing orders.

The menu, picture shows the Tai Poo Walled Village

Interior of the shop

Here comes the first dish....
Thunder Tea!!!

Complete Set of Tunder Tea (Lui Cha)

Blended Herbs: Parsley, Mint, coriander, basil.

She always come here for her pounded tea rice

with her husband, so she performs the ritual for us

she actually had this all the time when she was young,
I have never tasted it! does that mean I am not a real Hakka?

Ready!!!
This is my second time tasting this!
(First time with bro-in-law and sis)

Loo mixes it all up.

and spoons into individual bowls

mint, coriander, basil, parsley, leek, green beans, tofu, rice, nuts...
all the things my Teochew half of me hates! (my hubby and kids!)

Beaming Teo and Me!
 We are always game for Friday lunch forays!!!

chicken infused with yellow rice wine, mushrooms, ginger and wood ear fungus.
I had this for my 3 confinements,
 and my father-in-law brews the best homemade
rice-wine!

Loo scoops up the ingredients for me to get a good shot!

omelette with "NGEI"!!!!
I have not heard of ngei since my childhood days!!!
My mom plants ngei in the garden and
always ask me to pluck a handful to make soup!
English name for ngei is "mugwort"

Most delicious hakka butter deep fried fish fillet!!

Our Hakka lunch!  Loo and me (also Loo)  are Hakka
and she brought me and Teo here for Hakka lunch.

Hakka Ho Po Pounded Tea Rice set (Thunder Tea)

Hakka Butter Crispy Milky Sauce with Fish Fillet

The other two dishes are not in the menu!

http://www.google.com.my/#sclient=psy-ab&hl=en&site=&source=hp&q=thunder+tea&rlz=1W1GGNI_en-GBMY452&pbx=1&oq=thunder+tea&aq=f&aqi=g4&aql=1&gs_sm=e&gs_upl=12671591l12673708l0l12674416l11l7l0l4l4l0l273l1177l0.5.2l10l0&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&fp=5f79793a176cf60e&biw=1525&bih=716

Came across this strange Hakka movie called "Waiting for Husband to be born" filmed inside the Ho Po Hakka Village:
http://filmsufi.blogspot.com/2010/09/wait-for-birth-of-husband-zheng-hua.html