Wednesday, 29 February 2012


I've complained before about how quickly bananas go bad over here. 

Case in point, the other day I went to throw away my old, brown bananas. 

They were liquid inside - gag - that's not even possible in England. 

So it's quite annoying how when you buy them in the supermarket, they only come in HUGE bunches. 

Enough for the the whole family. 

For a month.

Perhaps I exaggerate…

But seriously, you eat a few and the rest liquidise in your kitchen. 

To solve this, I've gone vigilante a few times and torn the bunches apart myself. 

And then been told off. 


So this time, I went to ask the fruit man;

Me: Boleh potong?

Fruit man: Boleh.


Victory pause - dia faham!!!

Join me in my celebration dance! 

[i googled for "malaysian bananas". what to do? it's a funny blog also:]


In less successful news it was no-plastic-bags Saturday. 

Most of my shopping fitted nicely into my unnecessarily MASSIVE handbag. 

But not the (greasy) roasted chicken. 

Which I ended up carrying around like a small child, until I reached my car. 

You win some, you lose some…

Saturday, 25 February 2012


I went to watch my first live Malaysian football match this week - Malaysia vs. Japan. 

Standing outside the stadium with my friend, we'd bought our tickets and were waiting for the rest of the gang to appear.

And then we met Alan. 

Alan was a Chinese boy with bleach-blond, K-pop hair. 

He was wearing tight black jeans, a white Greenday t-shirt and sling bag. 

Go ahead - imagine him in your mind.

Not only was Alan amusingly out of place, he was also more confused than me.

Alan: Hi, er, what's happening here?

Bearing in mind that we were standing in front of Bukit Jalil stadium and we were surrounded - surrounded - by hundreds of people wearing football jerseys and chanting Harimau Malaya songs, and stalls selling aforementioned jerseys, scarves and annoying football horns, that was a ridiculous question. 

[ridiculous, Alan. Ridiculous.]

Me: It's a football match.

Alan: Oh, oh. I don't like football. 

Me: o.0 

Alan: It would be good if, if Greenday was playing.

Me: ...Why are you here?

Alan: I'm going to Ampang, actually, on the LRT, but I saw this and got down to see. 


Isn't Ampang, like, the other end of the line? 

He looked a bit Japanese, and if he was, he could've been forgiven for getting a bit lost.

But no, he was from KL. 

A slightly weird conversation ensued until my friend walked off to continue the real-friend search. 

Not good to get lost in a football crowd.

Me: Ok, bye!

Alan: Ah, do you have Facebook or something?

What?? No, you big stranger!!

*Mat Salleh runs away*

Malaysia loses, 4-0. 

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Cicak : Part 3

I know, right...part 3?

This time, I was driving. 

It was dark. 

The road was quiet. 

No one else around.

Taking an exit, I carefully checked my mirrors, glanced in the rearview…

[jeng jeng jeng!!!]


Are you for real?

Clinging onto my back window.

As if he was waiting all day for me to drive past, then lept on board. 

He looked at me sideways, with his one, creepy little eye...


Even though cicak have proven their stickiness, and gross-ness, to me before, I was somehow concerned for the little guy, that he might fly off, to his death. 

I drove really slowly to the petrol station.

Checking my mirror every few seconds. 

I would have had an animal welfare crisis if he suddenly wasn't there. 

I got out the car and the guy at the pump said to me, happily,

"Look. You have friend!"


Don't know if I'd go that far...

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Why you tak faham??

At the mamak tonight, 10pm, the guy serving excitedly insisted that I have the "special fried rice". 

So special it's not even on the menu. 

Ok lah, there's no roti & I'm too lazy to think of something else. 

It was delicious. 

But it was massive. 

[it looked nothing like this. but it was probably this massive]

Me: Bungkus?

Mamak: ...One more?

Me: Tak!! Bungkus. 

Mamak: Oh, bungkus? Ok. 


Did you really not understand me?

That was one word. 

One very simple and, I'm sure, correctly pronounced word.

Is it just the shock of a Mat Salleh speaking BM? 

Because my accent isn't that strong.


Although this does happen fairly often.

On the occasions I actually bust out my BM skills or talk about local things, my proud bubble is burst at having to repeat myself 3 times. 

Friend: Where is the waterfall?

Me: Near Semenyih.

Friend: …Where?

Me: Semenyih.

Friend: [mocking] Sm-n-yii [laughing]

Me: What?!? That's how you say it?!

Friend: It's "Semenyih"

Me: That's what I said?!  [it sounded THE SAME]

Friend: Which waterfall?

Me: Tekala

Friend: [mocking some more] Tak-aaa-laa [laughing some more]

Me: =.=

Friend: I like how you say it. Haha. Where is it again?

Me: =.="

The one occasion where my words were instantly understood was in conversation with Barbecue Bastard. 

Unfortunately then, I was too busy being scolded for asking a question in the first place, to actually bask in the glory of my success. 


One day you will forget I am Mat Salleh and you will accept me, funny accent and all…

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Drugs Make You Stupid.

I called my friend to get his advice re: previously mentioned phone drama. I was already annoyed, for obvious reasons. He didn't help.

me: hi

friend: hi. hello? hello, hello?

me: i'm here. 

friend: oh. hiiii. how are you?

me: i'm ok. 

friend: *giggles* hello?

me: ...why are you being weird? 

friend: weird? i am being weird? no. 

me: … 

friend: why aren't you talking? you're being weird.

me: ...are you high?

friend: what do you mean, high? *giggles*

me: =.=

friend: ...i am bonging...

me: =.=

friend: *giggles*

me: ok. never mind. 

friend: you are angry with me?

me: no. i'm in a bad mood already. 

friend: oh really? why? someone...bullying you?

me: yes. 

friend: oh? did…did someone write on your Facebook?

me: 0.o ...what?

friend: did someone write on your face…your facebook wall, "you are fat"?

me: NVMLAH!!

Go ahead. Try disputing the title.