Er... Brownie

Brownie is a delicious cake, sticky-yummy-chocolatey-goodie. Me likey.

Though this entry is not about the heavenly stuff, far from it, it's about the only cake I am capable of making.

In the loo.

Very down to earth really.

Note: I said make, not bake. While some heat is produced in the process of making, I doubt it's anywhere near the temperature required for baking.

Else I would be real worried. Like, seriously freaking out worried.

Yup, this entry is about shit. So quit now if the topic disgusts you, though honestly, shit is a perfectly normal thing that we see on a daily basis. =)

Besides the normal meaning of "solid excretory product evacuated from the bowels", it is also commonly used to describe unfavourable stuff.

For example when you have a series of unpleasent things happened to you, your friend may give you a gentle pat and say: "shits happen!"

When your boss and/or colleague suddenly pushed a truck load of nasty and due-by-tomorrow jobs to you, you complain to the sorry arse sitting close to you that "it's raining shits!"

Following on that, when you are simply overloaded and feel that you simply have no more time to even go shit (*ehem*), you tell the long suffering colleague sitting close to you that "I'm up to my neck in shit!" Or "I am swimming in shit!"

When you are in big trouble, you say "I'm in deep shit!"

Well, you get the idea. (By the way, Yeoh, you are still welcome to come complain to me about the amount of shit you are in, really.)

Okay, so what do you do when you are in excessive amount of shit?

Well, I have a solution! See I am so helpful and selfless, I am sharing this wonderful thing to all. =)

You see, shit is also called doo doo and poo. Poo in particular is what my baby boy understands.

"Have you pooed yet?" "Come on boy, poo poo! Come on, poo poo!"

Okay, let's not get distracted, my oh-so-wonderful-solution when you are overwhelmed by shit!

Drum roll please...

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.

.

.

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Kick-a-poo! Joy joice somemore, don't play play.

There you go, caffeine-free drink that makes you happy (must be all the colouring and preservatives) and gives the shit a good kick!

No shit was harmed in the writing of this piece of shit entry.
And no, the company that makes Kickapoo didn't pay me to do this, but I think they should, hahahaha!

=P

One Year

It's been a year since we came back from England, give or take a couple of days.

Hsiang is eight months old now. Crawling everywhere if we let him, has six teeth with the latest two coming out on the upper jaw (thought it's two bottom, two top, two bottom, in that order. Apparently not), and can shout real loud.

Work wise, well, hasn't lost the job yet so I guess I am coping. Do feel that I had a steep start instead of a gentle ramping, I guess being dumped into a job where it's already a quarter behind won't give me the luxury of a gentle ramp.

But I shouldn't complained, I am sure there are others in worse situations. I shall just think so so I feel better. Positive thinking. =)

PhD wise, supervisor no longer responds to my e-mail, I guess I cannot blame him, I must have been a headache for him. But still, I would like a closure to the research. Mayhap it's time to call him.

Health wise, hmm... Lost some weight lately, work load has been a tad heavy and sleep quality has been compromised. Oh, pretty much gave up on the half marathon, training had stopped since Hsiang being hospitalised for UTI and then the work load ramped up. My motivation is too weak to overcome the fatigue I feel after work. And yea, I am a lazy bum.

Archery wise, always in the thought but not in action.

Yes yes, I am a lazy bum.

New Entry?

I have this phrase written on my whiteboard:

"Talking to oneself is the first sign of insanity".

I talk to myself frequently.

These few days I have been checking my blog hoping to see some new unread entries.

Let me say that again...

These few days I have been checking my blog hoping to see some new unread entries.

...

I don't know why I am expecting any new entry when I didn't write any and I don't share posting permission (this is MY blog, my precioussss... mineeee...).

Worse is, I actually felt disappointed when I didn't see any new entry.

>.<

I am losing my mind, weeeeeee!

What's that you say KC?

Sammy the Not So Nimble (4)

-----

Copyright 2008 C.K. Goh. All rights reserved.

All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story is the intellectual property of C.K. Goh. Any reproduction or unauthorised use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the expressed written permission of C.K. Goh.

-----

The rogue player had terrible die-rolling luck in that particular game, failed almost all trap finding die rolls, even rolled the "cannot search for trap anymore". The title of this short story is a jab at that spectacular die-rolling. =)

Hondrel healed the fighter after they helped him out of the latest pit trap, the fighter had dislocated his sword arm and suffered a severe cut on his forehead, besides numerous graze wounds.

The cleric didn't say anything, but the arcane energy within him was dwindling, he would not be able to heal much more without replenishing his arcane reserve.

All magical spells, harmful or curative, require the expend of the caster's arcane energy. The amount of arcane energy a caster possesses increases with the caster experience and aptitude, and replenishes with long hours of undisturbed rest or magical means, like consuming potions or gain through magical weapons. The casters were kept in check with this limitation, for the tremendous power of magical spells would make casters unstoppable without this counterbalance.

Chango gave Hondrel a nod of gratitude as he stood up, the cleric smiled back wearily.

"Doesn't talk much, does he?" Phancenolara asked Hondrel after Chango had moved away to flex his sword arm.

"The silent type I guess," Hondrel replied, "say Phancy, do you have any potion of restoration that you can spare?"

"Sorry Hondrel, I was hoping to find some in this dungeon, those potions are rare, and bloody costly," Phancenolara replied, "running a bit dry huh?" She asked with unusual warmth, elves were usually lofty and regarded the other races as inferior to them.

But Phancenolara was a magic user, she knew the helplessness a caster felt when the arcane reserve was running low. She and the cleric connected through their dependency of the arcane force, it's something neither the fighter nor the rogue could understand.

"It's alright Phancy, guess I just have to regain the arcane force through the chance hit of my faithful crossbow then."

Phancenolara gave him a sad smile. The chance hit of their weapons, another thing the fighter and the rogue would not understand. Almost every casters carried a magical weapon that could restore a small amount of their arcane force when a successful hit was made on living or undead creature, the catch being the restoration did not happen all the time, it's a chance thing.

"Well, at least you are not relying on your arcane force for armour protection. Do you know my magical armour weakens as my arcane reserve dwindles?"

"I didn't know that," Hondrel was surprised, and he realised the mage was more dependent on the arcane force than he was.

"Now you do. Let's go, Chango is already half way across the room."

The halfling had gone ahead of them, following the fighter rather closely and seemed to be steering the direction the fighter was going.

"Does the halfling know what she is doing?" Phancenolara asked, keeping her distance from those leading the way. She could follow their path just fine even at a distance, the fighter's foot prints were visible on the layer of dust. The light footed rogue left no visible foot prints.

"I sure hope so," Hondrel said, "else we will have two casualties instead of one. Sammy is practically walking in Chango's shadow, she will not be able to avoid the trap in time, if they sprung one."

"Stop!"

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.

(to be continued)

Edited on 13th August 2012, fixed typo and added link.

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Baabaabaabaa? Vaavaavaavaa? Bwabwabwabwa?

Excited mom called slacker daddy at his office,

"Hsiang said papa!"

"Really?!?!"

"Well... something like that"

"Probably just meaningless random noise he makes"

"There! He is saying it again, did you hear that?"

"Er... I don't think he is saying papa"

"Well, it's a new pronunciation for him"

I am not quite sure what actually he was saying, but I am not baa baa the black sheep, or boo boo the brown shit leh.

I suppose secretly whispering papa repeatedly while he is asleep has worked some what it's all fair game still until he can really pronounce papa or mama clearly.

Come on boy, it's about time you give a first to papa instead of mama.

Sammy the Not So Nimble (3)

-----

Copyright 2008 C.K. Goh. All rights reserved.

All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story is the intellectual property of C.K. Goh. Any reproduction or unauthorised use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the expressed written permission of C.K. Goh.

-----

  The background of this story is the second campaign of a Dungeons & Dragons board game, it's a level 1 campaign so it's relatively simple. This episode "Sammy the Not So Nimble" took place in one of the rooms - the pit trap room.

The mage almost went in with the fighter, her right foot was hanging in mid air, her left foot at the edge of the pit trap. She forcefully threw herself off balance and toppled backwards, landing hard on her back. She sat there gasping while Hondrel and Saminora helped Chango out of the pit trap.

Chango suffered the fall worse than the rogue did with her two falls combined, but the fighter's incredible constitution allowed him to withstand a lot more injuries. So the fighter shrugged it off and continued towards the chests without a word, the rest followed him, stepping only at places he had been.

The mage no longer walked as briskly, after the near miss and seeing the injury the fighter had suffered compared to the rogue's, she realised the halfling's quick reaction had lessened the damage she took in the fall.

Phancenolara knew she had neither the vitality of the fighter, nor the dexterity of the rogue, if she fell into a pit trap, she would suffer a lot worse than they do. Her magical armour, while capable of deflecting physical blows, would be no help at all in breaking a fall.

"Surely there can't be any more trap in this room, can it?" Phancenolara asked no one in particular.

No one answered.

Saminora, still bringing up the rear, had a feeling that there were more traps in that room.

A lot more.

The rogue wasn't sure why she was so certain, she just knew.

She paused and turned back to look at the pit traps they had sprung, her attention was unconsciously drawn towards the location of those traps. After a brief observation, she glanced to the right and then to the left, she was somehow sure that there were two more traps to the right and one to the left, and she roughly knew where the traps would be.

Turning around to face her comrades, her instinct told her that the next trap in their path would be at...

"Oooff!"

Thud.

...where Chango had just fallen into.

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(to be continued...)

Edited on 13th August 2012, added link.

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Anything for You!

"So, you are going to play game with your friends ah?"

"Actually I am very tired so I just want to wind down now, either watch a movie or read a book."

"But...?"

"But no more junk food at home leh!"

"Cold Storage still open, can go grab some"

"Don't want lar, already showered and changed into my pyjamas liao."

"I go buy for you lor, I will do anything for you!"

"Wah, so ni..."

"ZzzZzZzzZz..." *fake snoring and pretended to be asleep*

"...ce ah..."

=P

=(

Slacker Extraordinaire... not

Worked till late, brought work home, stayed up till the wee hours in the morning working, declined multiplayer online game to work instead, used my internet for remote desktop connection to work instead of to blog.

Work work work, and work, and work some more, and then work, and...

I am properly ASHAMED of myself!

I have a slacker reputation to maintain for goodness sake!

I hope my boss is not reading this... >.<

So much for coming back to Malaysia for a simple family life.

=(

Not Amused

I cannot see myself jumping around like an excited bunny repeating a phrase endlessly to the very same people who were involved in the creation of the idea, as if they do not know the idea and as if I had discovered the greatest thing since sliced bread.

And no way would I say it twenty times in a row and nothing else while disregarding whatever the others are saying.

I'd rather think of how to implement the idea I just helped came up with, what are the drawbacks, if any, than to go annoy people by repeating the same phrase over and over as if that will make the idea a reality.

Or I'd rather work on the mountain of tasks piling up with due dates fast approaching.

Yes I am freaking busy.

And no, I am not amused.

Sammy the Not So Nimble (2)

-----

Copyright 2008 C.K. Goh. All rights reserved.

All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story is the intellectual property of C.K. Goh. Any reproduction or unauthorised use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the expressed written permission of C.K. Goh.

-----

---

This story is based on a table top RPG that was played, while the game was real (and great fun!), this story is fictitious and subjected to my whim and wicked imagination.

---

"Well, at least we can rule out ambush, if there was one, we would have been jumped by now," Saminora said while rubbing her bruised elbow.

Chango had lifted Saminora out of the pit trap with Hondrel and Phancenolara standing guard. The adventurers had recently met, they might not have known each other very long, but they knew what to do as a team to keep each other alive.

"Good thing the pit wasn't deep and not filled with sharp stuff, else you would be having more than bruises to show for your heroic dive."

"You said the nicest stuff, Phancy. Wonder how you would fare falling into a pit trap, fancy a dive yourself?" Saminora returned.

"Come on ladies, cut it off," admonished Hondrel, "Let me have a look at your injury Sammy," he said more kindly.

"She started it," Saminora mumbled. "I am fine Hondrel, I will just continue searching for traps now, you all best stay put."

Saminora trod lightly and looked about for signs of any more trap, now that stealth was not required, she could go about searching for traps faster.

Still it wasn't fast enough for the impatient mage.

"Can't you go any faster?" the elfmaiden asked as the halfling was bending down to have a closer look at something on the ground.

Annoyed, the rogue straightened and turned her scrutinising gaze on the mage and retorted, "if you think you could do this faster and better than I, feel free to take over."

The mage kept quiet, while she could manipulate the arcane force with ease, trap finding was beyond her. It's a speciality skill of the rogue. Seeing that the mage wasn't going to take up her offer, Saminora sneered, turned defiantly, walked a few steps forward.

And promptly sprang another trap causing her to fall head first into the pit!

"Impressive," said Phancenolara, amused.

"Damn it! I knew there's something funny about this tile, damn that mage for distracting me!" Saminora followed that with a string of swearing that would put the goblin to shame.

Again Chango lifted the rogue out of the trap. When the cleric offered his healing, Saminora didn't decline. Hondrel said a silent prayers and spreaded his hands over the injury. Warm blue glow surrounded the cuts and bruises and one by one they disappeared, the tissues mended, the wounds healed.

"How are you feeling?" Hondrel asked gently.

"Besides a bruised ego I am good as new. Thanks Hon, you are good at this," Saminora replied. In a small voice so the mage would not hear what she said, "Hondrel, I will be honest, I am just not very good at finding traps, but I can't bear springing another trap in front of Phancy. Please don't make me do it."

Keeping his voice low, Hondrel replied, "don't worry Sammy, we will think of something, why don't you be our rear guard for the time being?" Then standing up he addressed everyone,

"I think it's best we let Sammy rest for a while, I will make a beeline for the chests and then the door, follow my foot steps and don't walk elsewhere."

"I'll go first," Chango said.

It's not a request, it's just a statement. The fighter knew there were likely more traps, and among all of them, he was the one who could take a fall or two more than the others. He didn't wait for the others to respond, he started moving in a straight line towards the chests. Eager to be on the move, Phancenolara followed without a word. Hondrel helped the rogue up and followed at a cautious pace. Saminora took up the rear, keeping her distance.

"I only skipped one lesson on trap finding, ONE! I can't be that bad at trap finding..." Saminora pondered.

Suddenly something made her look up, she gave a sweeping glance with her keen eyes trying to determine what has broke her out of her musing. Her sight was drawn towards the tile Chango was about to step on.

Too late.

The floor split open underneath Chango and the fighter fell into the pit trap with a cry of surprise.

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(to be continued...)

Edited on 13th August 2012, added link.

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Sammy the Not So Nimble (1)

-----

Copyright 2008 C.K. Goh. All rights reserved.

All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story is the intellectual property of C.K. Goh. Any reproduction or unauthorised use of the material contained herein is prohibited without the expressed written permission of C.K. Goh.

-----

The room was dimly lit by the lone torch that hung on the wall. Two wooden chests could be seen at the far end of the room, just barely. And a closed door.

The adventurers stood beside the door leading into the room, hesitating to enter yet knowing they had to, for their objective lay behind that closed door.

Bodies of their enemy lay unmoving in the room they just cleared. Goblin corpses fast turning cold. They have come into this dungeon looking for the leader of these goblins. When they find this leader, they intend to end its life and its reign of terror.

The nearby villagers had suffered enough.

"What are we waiting for? I ain't got all day," the fiery temper elfmaiden said suddenly.

"Patience Phancenolara, we are assessing the situation," said the human cleric calmly.

"What's there to assess, Hondrel? An empty room and two chests for our taking, we go over, loot the chests and open that door, simple," the impatient mage returned.

Before Hondrel Silverfaith, the leader of the team, could reply, his comrade the 8 feet tall human fighter said in his deep low voice,

"Too quiet."

"I agree, too quiet indeed," said a small voice somewhere around Chango's waist.

Chango Mighthammer, not an inch of fat on his 8 feet muscle bulging physique, looked down and saw the halfling Saminora Swiftfoot peering intently into the room, he had no idea when the rogue came to stand by him.

He wasn't surprised though, with their 4 feet maximum height and their nature born dexterity as well as the ability to see in the dark, halflings could be real stealthy.

"I suspect there would be traps or ambush, or both, Sammy, would you mind..."

Before Hondrel could finish his sentence, Saminora piped in,

"Say no more, I am on my way."

The cleric saw the halfling melted into the shadow as only rogue could, Sammy had gone into the room to scout it out.

"Gotta admit she is good at this stealth stuff, though her trap finding and disarming skills are..." Phancenolara commented unkindly.

"Be nice, Phancy," rumbled Chango.

"I am just telling as it..."

Before Phancenolara could finish her sentence, there was that sound of sliding slab followed by a soft yelp and a dull thud.

The rogue has disappeared, fallen into a pit trap not 3 feet away.

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(to be continued...)

Edited on 13th August 2012, fixed typo and added link.
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