Thursday.
I went to Cikgu Haiza's house for a visit to see her 3 week's old baby. Unfortunately, her house is at Kajang. I don't know why I ended up getting there with Farhana, Izni, Jun and Muslimatun. Cikgu was like, gelak semacam gila for 15 seconds when I told her that I'll be going with Mus.
Her house is okay-la. Two-stories of heaven. Unfortunately, the house is on leasehold with a price tag of RM160k. Seems logic, I think :S because she said homes in Kajang were all leasehold.
Her baby is ridiculously cute~
I didn't talk much while on her house. One, because Muslimatun is around. No, enough of the one year full of speculations and gossips all over here and there. Second, is because I was still in the damn vain. I took four shots of 500ml pcm, hoping that the pills will brighten up my day. My body ended being so cold, that I had to use my sweater on the damn afternoon.
For the first time since August 1989, my parents were sooooooooo damn concerned about my health. They even marah me about my unusual activities all over here and there, saying that 'duduk rumah lagi elok. kau tu dah la demam teruk, kang tak pasal-pasal (fill in the blanks)'. Yes, I do notice the unusualness of this fever, but its okay for me so far.
Ah, I couldnt do anything contributive at this moment at all. My body feel so weak.
Oh yea. My biggest concern now is my sakit tekak. I took all things, including Air Asam Jawa, Strepsils and etc. Air Asam Jawa is like a mini-hell, I suggest you to buy one from 7-eleven because the taste is nicer. No matter how much gula you put it in you'll always ended up pseudo-dead. Strepsils is good, but for temporary usage only. Ah, the extensive use of Strepsils introduced my body to a new epidemic: selsema. hehe.
My health is worsening.
p/s: From Malaysiakini, therefore, the blog of the guy who claims being bitched by DSAI, and the help of google extensive search. I now present to you:
http://mohdsaifulbukhari.blogspot.com/
Saiful Bukhari's Blog. Read it. Don't comment it now, comment it later @ the akhirat. I doubt the authenticity of him as the writer.
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