Thursday, May 29, 2008


For the last time, my name is Doreen!

It is a given name, found on my birth certificate, MyKad, passport, EPF account, income tax account, EVERY GOD DAMN THING.

Except the company's payroll system. Idiots.

If it is Fanny or Orange or Bambi, then yes, I would forgive you if you happen to assume that I gave myself that name.


Man on throne is hawt. HAHAHAHAH!


He said I smelled like a baby's buttocks.

I told him he smelled like corn, a'la corn in cup, complete with salt and butter.



Don't be a twat. Come watch
How I Learned to Drive.


Can you imagine me being a 'Bambi'???


"Hi, I'm Bambi. Bambi Loo".

Posted by Doreen at 4:39 pm


Wednesday, May 28, 2008

please die

There are people whom you have lost touch with, or an old crush/flame who you hope you would bump into one of these days. Maybe in a mall. Maybe on the streets of KL. Maybe at a pub.

Then, there are those you hope you will never have to cross paths with. EVER!

I don't have that many names in the former category, but the list for the latter keeps growing.

Been lucky so far, in not crossing paths with the ones I don't want to meet.

Except for one.

He's a dickhead that one. The frustrating part is that I keep seeing him around.

The sight of him makes my skin crawl. The sight of him makes me want to vomit.

Argh!!! Why do I still bump into you? Of the millions of KLites in this city, why can't you just disappear into the crowd? Why can't you just jump into the river? Or stand in the middle of the NPE and let me run you over once and for all.

Gosh. I'd love to mess up your face.

I'd love to be able to crack your skull and hear the squish squish of your guts and intestines under my car tyres.

I'd love to see your carcass squashed on the road like a roadkill.

Die, you ugly sonofabitch, DIEEEEE!!!!

Posted by Doreen at 5:42 pm


Tuesday, May 27, 2008


The real truth about people in theatre.

We have a day job too, but love the arts and the platform of expression it offers.

We don't stroll the streets of Paris, sipping lattes on the Champs and watch people go by while pondering on the meaning of life. OK, maybe some do. I don't know. I have my coffee at mamaks and Starbucks SS15, and I ponder upon life while sitting on my throne.

We don't speak with foreign accents, but plain old 'A neh, teh tarik satu' kind-of-Malaysian-accent.

Elitists bastards I hear you say? No way! Where in the world did you get this idea? We're just like you, struggling to find a place, struggling to find ourselves, struggling to pay our bills, struggling to make a point, struggling to express.

Loving the arts does not mean we are trying to be different, trying to be atas. Just like how you love football, or ballet, or painting, or knitting, or zhng-ing your car, we love interpreting chunks of text, getting into character and executing them on stage.

When the director commends us for running a good scene, we get the same high you do when you (or your team) scores a goal. When the director says we suck, we get the same feeling as you when a penalty is missed. Or as bad as when you end the season with no silver *grins*

So what are we really like?

A bunch of young people, coming together because we love what we do. We work towards a production - the sweat, tears, laughter - and we want to share the end result with you. Theatre is really for everyone.

If you have seen any of The Oral Stage's past works, you would know that we write, speak and perform about everyday life that you and I are so familiar with.

And How I Learned To Drive is going to be just that as well.

Growing up in a family with thin, penetrable personal boundaries, Li'l Bit becomes the victim of an incestuous intimacy - Uncle Peck does not only teach his teenage niece to drive, but sexualises her childhood as well.

Narrated through a series of bittersweet flashbacks, HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE is an honest, coming-of-age account on forgiveness, healing and growth – and how one can find light even from the unhealthiest of relationships.
HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE was first produced in 1997 in New York City and has since been awarded, in addition to the Pulitzer: the Obie, the Drama Desk Award, the New York Drama Critics Award, the Outer Circle Critics Award, and the Lucille Lortel Award.
Featuring Amelia Chen, Johann Lim and Doreen Loo, with Cameronian Arts Award nominees Davina Goh and Mark Beau de Silva. Creative Director, Kelvin Wong.Supported by Living Arts and Autodetailer.

"…one of the best plays of the decade." – USA Today

"…a tremendous achievement; genuine and genuinely disturbing." – Village Voice


4th – 7th June 2008 @ 8.30 pm
7th – 8th June 2008 @ 3.00 pm
The Actors Studio Bangsar
Level 3,West Wing Bangsar Shopping Centre
285, Jalan Maarof Bukit Bandaraya 59000 Kuala Lumpur
RM33 (Adults); RM22 (Students, senior citizens & the disabled)
TAS @ BSC Box Office: 03-2094 0400/1400
See you there?

Posted by Doreen at 11:08 am


Monday, May 26, 2008


It's bright and sunny out there. A perfect day for the beach. Or an excursion to Klang. (sorry- inside joke)

Being the dreamers that we are, we have a knack of cooking up images of these exotic beaches in our heads- no matter where we are.

"I see a deserted beach with a huge daybed, scented oils, ice box with drinks, the crashing of waves, sunset approaching, and an improvised barbeque on the beach..."

"I see a deserted beach with a huge daybed where we can lounge after a couple of great dives, outdoor massages, ice box with drinks, the crashing of the waves, a magnificient sunset, barbeque of fresh seafood, a quaint little pub with some rastafari-looking musicians where we'd have drinks, and end the night with a banana milkshake on a breezy night with candles lit along the entire pier providing a beautiful backdrop", said I, providing an extended imagery.

"When do we leave? Should I start packing?" I ask.

He plays along and tells me what I should be packing.

And you just can't help but smile.

Dreams they are.

Day dreams.

Happy Monday people :)

Posted by Doreen at 2:01 pm



Took a drive to nowhere for an hour.

Wandered on foot for two.

Went home by the fourth.

Still unresolved.

Posted by Doreen at 9:37 am


Thursday, May 22, 2008


I had a nice surprise in the postbox yesterday.

Squealed excitedly as I saw the blue PADI logo on the envelope.

I have been waiting for this to arrive since I mailed the form off at the post office about a month ago. The thing with POS Malaysia is, you just never know.

A nice visual greeted me. 'Continue your adventure' it says. Oh yeah, baby! :)

On the reverse, "Congratulations, here's your new PADI certification card."

And ta-da!!!!

Why is it that I can be so photogenic (ahem) in casual shots and look like THAT for those IC/Passport/Prison shots?

And oh, Lynette, I didn't know you'd be sticking around me for life!


Mataking, here I come!!!!

Posted by Doreen at 2:29 pm


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

panties N/A

Come on, a show of hands - how many going with 'no'?


Posted by Doreen at 7:53 pm


Tuesday, May 20, 2008

a quiver

Crossing into the boundaries of unfamiliarity...

(Picture Source:

... like strangers who say hello.

... like taking the road less travelled.

... like biting into a piece of chocolate and not knowing what you're gonna get.

... like hands, exploring a new body, hesitant at first.

... like getting lost in Klang.

... like waking up and realizing there's no coffee in the kitchen.

... like the awkwardness of the 'morning after'.

... like dreaming of aliens and spaceships.

... like trying out cocktails at new places.

... like hurling wild accusations at the one you love.

... like taking public transport in Kuala Lumpur.

... like two people kissing for the very first time.

... like answering a call from an unknown number.

... like life's little surprises.

Posted by Doreen at 5:18 pm


Friday, May 16, 2008

office HH

Our company organizes happyhour-get-togethers once every 2 months. Most of us usually show up, cos hey, free food, and FREE DRINKS. We're free to order anything really.

But of course, nobody ever orders stuff like Graveyard, or Sex on the Beach, or Pussy Foot.

Of course, there is also a group of them who usually go for the sake of going. Instead of being labelled an anti-social.

A good crowd, usually about 40-50 will show up. The CEO himself and his wife, his senior management team, the suited up sales people, the editorial team in jeans, the programming and network channel people usually a cross between the aforementioned two, the engineering men usually straight-faced and sullen, the tea-ladies who make an effort to get out of their brown uniform and arrive in something more colourful, the administration/operation girls being more boisterous then when in the office, and the demure receptionists holding onto to bottles of Heineken.

Such get-togethers are rather interesting.

If you want to be served promptly and have the tapas and whatnots brought to you first before everyone else, join the table where the 'powerful' people are. Sauteed mushrooms, seafood paella, lamb shank, chilli prawns, warm fluffy bread, crispy calamari, enough cutlery to go around without having you to signal for the waiter over and over again.

The admin-tea lady-receptionist group/table usually have the most updated goss without missing out on the juciest details. Crouched together with heads close to one another, many a stories are told and re-told. Best to order tequilas when with them. Your pinch of salt readily available.

The editorial team is the most dress down group. Designers with spiky hair and untucked shirts, chain-smoking photographers, writers who are either dressed to kill (depending on the event they have attended or will be attending later in the day) or like a slob. They are usually loud, and fun. If you run out of ciggies, you join them.

Sales people are armed with their namecards, ready to pounce on the slightest sign of a sales prospect. Despite being loggerheads with one another (fighting over accounts and whatnot), they end up sitting at the same table. Conversation amongst people in this group are usually laced with sarcasm, evil, hatred, bitchiness and plenty of "Oh, any luck with (insertbrandnamehere)?" without being too obvious that you are hoping for failure from their end, so you can pounce on that client.

Happy Friday guys!

Posted by Doreen at 7:20 pm


Thursday, May 15, 2008

lack of

I was and never am a fan of long-distance relationships. I doubt I'll be able to pull one off, therefore I never jumped into one.

Before leaving for KL for Australia, I ended a relationship, just like that. Because I'm going away. For a year. Which ended up being two. When I left Australia to come back to KL, I ended another relationship because I doubt I'm heading back there anytime in the near future.

I knew of people who did the whole long-distance thing. They communicated via the web, the phone, snail mail even! They do that to communicate, to be in touch, to hug and kiss, and probably even to have sex too!

But what do you do when you are kinda living together, but because of crazy schedules, have not been comnmunicating at all?

We wake up next to each other in the mornings, but after a few words and a quick peck, I'm out the door. We go to bed together too, but by the time I/we get home, it IS already bed-time. We complain about the tiring day in 3 words, say goodnight, do a quick kiss and then we fall alseep.

This is gonna be the way things are, for the next coupla weeks.

The scary part is, it's only been a week, and already I am feeling incomplete. And I am probably paranoid too, that things are not going right. Lack of communication does that to me.

And I don't quite know how to fix it.

Do I start doing the things people in long-distance relationships do?

Posted by Doreen at 8:55 am


Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Sardarji's Mom Letter

You probably have seen this before, but everytime I read it, it tickles me to no end!


Dear Banta,

Vahe Guru!

I am in a well here and hoping you are in the same well there. I'm writing this letter slowly, because I know you cannot read fast.

We don't live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen 20 miles from home, so we moved 20 miles.

I wont be able to send the address as the last Sardar who stayed here took the house numbers with them for their new house so they would not have to change their address. Hopefully by next week we will be able to bring our earlier address plate here, so that our address will remain same too.

This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine, situated right above the commode. I'm not sure it works. Last week I put in 3 shirts, pulled the chain and haven't seen them since.

The weather here isn't too bad. It rained only twice last week. The first time it rained for 3 days and second time for 4 days.

The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with all the metal buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pocket.

Your father has another job. He has 500 men under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery.

By the way I took Bahu to our club's poolside. The manager is really badmash. He told her that two-piece swimming suit is not allowed in this club. We were confused as to which piece should we remove?

Your sister had a baby this morning. I haven't found out whether it is a girl or a boy, so I don't know whether you are an Aunt or Uncle.

Your uncle, Jetinder fell in a nearby well. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off bravely and drowned. We cremated him and he burned for three days.

Your best friend, Balwinder, is no more. He died trying to fulfill his father's last wishes. His father had wished to be buried at sea after he died. And your friend died while in the process of digging a grave for his father.

There isn't much more news this time. Nothing much has happened.

P.S: I was going to send you some money but by the time I realized, I had already sealed off this letter.

Posted by Doreen at 5:48 pm


Saturday, May 10, 2008

being girly

It was supposed to be an interview, well, kinda. Or rather, it was scheduled with the intention of being so.

But it wasn't one of those that required you to dress up in a suit, bring copies of your CV and fill up silly forms reiterating information already found in the CV. Coffee Bean for a Friday mid-morn cuppa he suggested. I couldn't agree more - it was just down the road from my office, though I never order lattes here.

He called my name, I turned around, came face to face with him, and extended my hand. I wondered if he noticed my pupils dilating.

Simpson (not his real name) was tall and strikingly handsome. Instead of a fair, pasty-skinned Caucasian, he has an even golden tan. His hair, brown, but it also told stories of a man of wisdom, maturity and experience.

He looked immaculate- suave in a white crisp shirt tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans and a pair of dark brown leather shoes. He transferred the briefcase into his left hand, and responded with an equally firm handshake.

I was to choose a seat while he placed his order. Regular latte, 3 shots- I heard one barrista saying to the other. The seats on the inside were all taken and so al fresco it was to be. After deciding on a strategic table - i.e. fan nearby, I took a moment to contemplate if I should let him have the seat which faces the view (of shops and general people traffic). I remembered reading in Dr. John Gray's Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus that men don't like having their backs against entrance doors or open areas. They like to have a sense of control and view over everything, reducing any threat or danger that may come unto them.

I decided against giving him that liberty though.

I settled down and quickly sent an SMS to a girlfriend - Shiieeeeet! He IS cute! - and turned my phone to silent.

He walked towards the table with his coffee and a smile across his face.

And there I was, in all my glory of being 27 years of age, smitten like an 16 year old who refuses to head home after school but ends up heading to one corner of the sports hall to secretly watch her 'idol' play basketball.

Remember those days?

Remember how your heart would beat excitedly when the said male specimen was really close by? Like standing in the next queue at the school cafeteria? Or when your girlfriends giggle and tease you whenever he's within sight? When you and your girlfriends gave him a cute nickname which allowed gossiping and 'alerts' when he's nearby? When you chose the route that goes pass his classroom to get to the ladies? Or when you walk past each other on the stairs?


*sighs and dreamily reminiscing*

So we exchanged a few pleasantries, including a mention about my girlfriend who had a hand in introducing us, and he asked to tell him more about myself.

Interview, right?

I made myself comfortable and re-crossed my legs under the table. Soft denim. It was an accidental brush okay?


... to be continued (maybe)

Posted by Doreen at 6:38 pm


Friday, May 09, 2008

in KL

A vandal with morals.

Posted by Doreen at 4:36 pm


Wednesday, May 07, 2008


There will be a vigil tonight (May 7, 2008 ) at 9.00pm at the main entrance of Sungai Buloh Prison. It will be a peaceful show of solidarity for Raja Petra. You are welcome to join (Din Merican).

Bring candles, umbrella (for rain!) and your cameras :)

As read on Susan's.


Am VERY upset by his arrest. Apparently, he has refused all visitors, including his wife! So says the officer at the remand centre.

Doesn't it sound highly suspicious?

Fucking bastards.

Posted by Doreen at 5:35 pm


kaki ayam

Did you see me at Midvalley today?

Or rather, did you see a girl walking about Midvalley/Gardens with no shoes on?

I had an appointment at the Northpoint offices today. Have you been in there? There are a grand total of, like, 30 bays for visitor parking.

Not wanting to give up, I went in and out the parking lot a couple of times cos it only takes like 40 seconds to round the parking lot. No need to pay, so nevermind lah.

The guard eventually advised me to park across, at the mall. I peered from my car and noticed the bridge connecting the mall to the Northpoint offices. But of course, there was a crawl going AROUND the mall, and so I took the closest exit, and parked at the Gardens.

Not too far right?


So I walked - from one end of Gardens, crossed over to Midvalley, went to North Court on the first floor thinking that the bridge was there (but it turned out to be the bridge leading to the KTM trains), walked back to down to the info counter on Centre Court Ground Floor, and was then directed to the bridge which is actually at the North Court Ground Floor, walked the bridge, then made my way across from Tower A to Tower B - all these time, in my pretty 3-inch strappy gold heels.

When I reached the client's office, not only was I panting like a dog (I know - lack of exercise!), but a second longer in these heels, I would tell you to take my life instead and to spare me the pain.

Yes, you dumb twat! It was THAT painful!!!

When the meeting ended 30 minutes later, I almost did not want to leave as my feet had not recuperated enough under the table. I packed my bags slowly and made my way out. I stared at the gigantic mall across from me and wondered how on earth am I going to make it there alive.


Once I entered the mall, I promptly took my heels off, hung them off the briefcase I was carrying and made my way to the Gardens, and then to my car.

And with me not wearing any shoes, the HSBC sales people were still pushing credit card application forms in my face. Sakit gileeerrrr OK? LEAVE ME ALONEEEEE!!!!!

Oh well, shoes not needed now :)

Posted by Doreen at 3:48 pm


Monday, May 05, 2008


The Oral Stage


Paula Vogel's How I Learned To Drive

Growing up in a family with thin, penetrable personal boundaries, Li’l Bit becomes the victim of an incestuous intimacy - Uncle Peck does not only teach his teenage niece to drive, but sexualises her childhood as well.

Narrated through a series of bittersweet flashbacks, HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE is an honest, coming-of-age account on forgiveness, healing and growth – and how one can find light even from the unhealthiest of relationships.

HOW I LEARNED TO DRIVE was first produced in 1997 in New York City and has since been awarded, in addition to the Pulitzer: the Obie, the Drama Desk Award, the New York Drama Critics’ Award, the Outer Circle Critics Award, and the Lucille Lortel Award.

Amelia Chen
Johann Lim
Doreen Loo
Mark Beau de Silva
Davina Goh

Showdates & Time
4-7 June 2008 @ 8:30pm
7-8 June 2007 @ 3:00pm

The Actors Studio Bangsar
Level 3, West Wing,
Bangsar Shopping Centre

RM 33 (adults), RM 22 (students, senior citizens & the disabled)

Ticket Contact
Box Office 03-2094 0400 / 1400
On The Web
The Oral Stage
The Actors Studio
Production Wall

Posted by Doreen at 11:01 am


Friday, May 02, 2008

just because.

We weren't exactly sober to begin with, but figured we ought to quicken our steps a li'l bit because it was nearing 10:00pm. Getting caught in a queue of exiting-mall-crowd wouldn't be pretty.

I paid for parking at the auto-pay machine.

We soon drove out of the bay and made our way towards the exit.

The window came down, he extended his arm and began pressing at some random button.

I was holding the ticket in my hand, staring at the back of his head.


The phone reservations were made - 4 tickets to Fool's Gold.

But upon collection, it was nowhere to be found in their system. Lewis dejectedly joined the snaky evening queue.

The both of us waited at the side.

"What would you think if I took guitar lessons?" he asked, while staring ahead at the guitars that line the display window of the music store above Carl's Junior.

"Eh? The guitar?" I asked, making sure I wasn't hearing things.

I turned and saw him grinning away.

"What about the drums? I have this thing for drummer boys... Oooohh, they drive me crazy!" I gushed, shivering in excitement at the mere thought of a sweaty drummer working the drums.

He gave me a funny look.

"But they do! I love drummers..." I cooed.

He was eyeing me suspiciously by now.

"You are not going anywhere near a live band!"


Posted by Doreen at 5:10 pm


Thursday, May 01, 2008

oh, joy!

You fuck me every morning, 5 days a week.

I don’t know how you do it, but you do.

Every night, before we sleep, I hold you in my hands. I push the right buttons, and it turns you on.

Side by side we retire for the night. As I doze off, I am lulled by the rhythmic beat of your heart.

I go to bed assured that you will be there for me in the morning.

Despite all that, I hate how you screw me in the mornings. Can’t you understand that it’s rude to wake me up from my slumber for your moments of pleasure?

I roll around for a bit, groaning and moaning at all the attention you are showering me.

Well, you little piece of shit – surprise, surprise!
I won’t be needing you tomorrow.

Happy Labour’s Day people!

Posted by Doreen at 1:22 am