Batik Day

Happy Thursday people!!

Thursday is a Batik Day!

It is such a lovely n lively sight looking at all of my colleagues (well..at least half of the population)

wearing clothes with Batik printed motives...

Let's have the students wear Batik too... heheee... why not?

MUET:Result for 2008

The MUET (Malaysia University English Test) year end exam results for the 2008 paper will be published this coming Thursday, 15 January 2009.

Candidates can obtain their result from the respective institution where they registered and sit for the examination.

Private candidates, on the other hand, will have their results delivered to their mail box at home.
More convenient ways are also provided to give faster and easier access to the candidates for the results. Effective on Thursday, they can check their results through SMS (short messaging system) by typing: “MUET” and send it to 39003. They will be needed to follow the instruction by the SMS to get their final result.

Alternatively, candidates can also obtain their results online through the MPM (Majlis Peperiksaan Malaysia) at www.mpm.edu.my beginning 15 January.


copy&paste from: http://skorcareer.com.my/blog/muet-result-2009/2009/01/13/

MUET: What is MUET

The Malaysian English Test (MUET) is a test which measures the achievement and English skills of pre-university students.

Students with STPM, Matriculation or Diploma qualifications who intend to pursue first degree courses in local institutions of higher learning must provide evidence that they have sat for MUET.

This test is offered twice a year. Students may opt to take either the mid year or end of year examination.

The registration for the mid year test begins in mid January and ends in early February, whereas the registration for the end of year test begins in early May and ends early June.

For more info, please visit: http://www.mpm.edu.my

MUET - Malaysian University English Test 2009 - Registration For Students of KPTM Kuantan

Registration can be done from 12 January 2009 until 20 January 2009 (before 10am) at Academic Office during office hour.

Payment: RM60

MUET - Malaysian University English Test 2009

MUET CALENDAR FOR 2009 MID YEAR TEST

Registration for Mid Year MUET : 12 January 2009
Close of Registration : 29 January 2009(for All Candidates)



Date of Speaking Test : 5,6,7 May 2009 and 11,12,13 May 2009
Listening, Reading Comprehension and Writing : 25 April 2009



for more info please visit, Majlis Peperiksaan Malaysia website:
http://www.mpm.edu.my

I Am Craving For This

Hello! and Good Morning....

What a lovely Tuesday morning... isn't it... (well..I hope.. coz this is an auto publish post)

Have you had your breakfast? As for me, of course not because now it is 1:32am (Tuesday Jan 13th)

but...


I am seriuosly craving for thisss...

Pancake with maple syrup...aaaahhh...

Monday Blues

It's Monday and you got off from the wrong side of the bed today...

Feeling very lazy and not in a good mood?

Let me suggest you this...

The smell of Orange can help you to get things done, overcome laziness and a tendency to overindulge. Promotes a sense of confidence, optimism and purpose.

Still having the blues...?

Owwwhhh.. come on! Stop whining!... Just think of all the people in Palestine.. we are way batter off than them. Full stop!

Now, go do your work... sincerely and passionately....

Happy Monday, people!

Count On

Do you get the joke? he...hee....

Fund For GAZA

Let's do our part...

To contribute, the public and organisations may do any of the following;

Bank in/transfer funds to Maybank account number 514105-320501 under the name NSTP Fund for Gaza;

Write cheques made out to NSTP Fund for Gaza and send them to NSTP, 31 Jalan Riong, 59100 Kuala Lumpur; or

Make cash donations at the cashier, NSTP, 31 Jalan Riong, Kuala Lumpur or at NSTP branch offices nationwide.

What Is Penaung In English?

Someone asked me to translate the Malay word "Penaung" into English...

Hmmm... What could be the English word for Penaung?

I anticipate this kind of question will pop up again due to the recent instructions from the 'above' prompting all working papers for students activities to be done in English.



... Penaung in English is PATRON

Star Education Fair 2009

This weekend...

If you are looking for information on study options and career pathways, visiting the Star Education Fair 2009 is a must.

Star Education Fair 2009 - a one-stop information centre for all your tertiary education queries – to be held on Jan 10 and 11. - Venue - Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre


p/s: To my non-masters holder colleagues.. let's make a "rombongan cik kiah" to this event ???

Get A Move On = Go Faster

Croissant

I am sure most of us are familiar with this....

a croissant...

but, do you know the correct pronunciation for this buttery flaky pastry?

this is how you should pronounce it.... krwä-säN' or krə-sänt'

well... just forget the phonetic symbols...

it is simply pronounce as...

or "krossonnt"

My Tuesday

It's 11.20am now..

I am at the IT lab since early morning to attend to the new students registering in today.. so far there are only 5 of them... argghh... thanx God for I have the world wide web to amuse me..

I just can't wait for tomorrow because... I'll be on leave.. yeayy!!

Hmmm... how should I spend my day tomorrow? Any suggestions?

Maybe I will have my breakfast here... hmmm... yummmehh..

photo by irwan

Then have a big splash here...

hahaaa.. dream on!! That's just a wishful thinking...

I might end up..

spending the whole day at home watching tv or even worse.. you'll see my face at the college... haha ...

Dead or death?

Someone asked me the other day what is the difference between Death and Dead?

Try to answer the questions below....

death is a noun, dead is an adjective

1. Samuel Goldwyn: "I don't think anyone should write their autobiography until after they're ...."


2. Woody Allen: "On the plus side, ... is one of the few things that can be done just as easily lying down."


3. Mark Twain: "The report of my ... was an exaggeration."


4.Nancy Reagan: "I believe that people would be alive today if there were a ... penalty."


5. Erma Bombeck: "Anybody who watches three games of football in a row should be declared brain ...."


6. Groucho Marx (1890-1977): "Either this man is ... or my watch has stopped."


7. George Santayana: "There is no cure for birth and ... save to enjoy the interval."


8. Woody Allen: "There are worse things in life than .... Have you ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman?"


9. Samuel Goldwyn: "If I could drop ... right now, I'd be the happiest man alive."





Answers:

1. dead
2. death
3. death
4. death
5. dead
6. dead
7. death
8. death
9. dead

Drop By

Taken from: English Fast n Easy by Marianna Pascal

Baguette

Still talking about food... hehe...

Baguette or also known as French bread

A baguette (pronounced /bəˈɡɛt/)

A baguette (pronounced /bəˈɡɛt/) is a specific shape of artisan-style breadcommonly made from basic lean dough, a simple guideline set down by French law, distinguishable by its length, very crisp crust, and slits cut into it to enable proper expansion of gasses and thus formation of the crumb, the white part of bread. The standard diameter of a baguette is approximately 5 or 6 cm, but the bread itself can be up to a meter in length. One baguette typically weighs 250 grams (8.8 oz). It is also known in English as a French stick or a French bread.

I Want To STORY You

My dear students...

I beg you to never ever say...

I want to STORY you...

please say...

I want to tell you or I want to inform you......

Cooking Terminologies

Whenever we go to a fancy restaurant with a fancy menu, don't get intimidated with words appeared before the real food... like... grilled lamb chop, smoked salmon and etc... those words are actually telling you how the food is being cooked...

Let see the real meaning for all those fancy names...

Grilled Salmon

Grilled Chicken

Grilled
This is a more common term that many will already know, even if they don’t often cook. When a recipe requires you to grill a food item, it will basically mean that you need to cook over an open flame, whether it is by gas or charcoal. Obviously the most ideal place to do food grilling is over a grill.

Deep Frying in the process

Frying and Deep-frying
These are terms that are often confused, but they are actually quite different. Frying can be done using a frying pan and with oil or butter, whereas deep-frying on the other hand means that the food needs to be submerged in boiling oil until it is cooked. This can often be seen in fast food chains where the food is placed in a basket and submerged into the boiling oil, often to produce french fries, tender breaded chicken, and funnel cakes.

Sauteing garlic

Sautéing
An alternative to frying is sautéing, to produce strong flavours from your food. To sauté food, cook quickly using a small amount of fat (oil or butter), and use a frying pan to receive best results when using this cooking method.

Broiled Salmon

Broiled
When a recipe calls for the food to be broiled, it means that the food should be cooked by direct exposure to a flame or heat element. You may find the “broil” setting on many ovens, although it is important to place the food on the top rack when using this setting.

miszsensei: broiled n grilled,I just got confused with the definition.. hmmm.. what do you think?

In Europe, broiling is considered virtually synonymous with grilling, but in America, the term "broiling" is usually applied to cooking in an oven, while "grilling" usually denotes the use of an outdoor or indoor grill.

owhh...ok.. now I understand. :)

Then, what about smoked? What's the difference between smoked salmon and grilled salmon??

Smoked

Smoking is the process of flavoring, cooking, or preserving food by exposing it to the smoke from burning or smoldering plant materials, most often wood. Meats and fish are the most common smoked foods, though cheeses, vegetables, and ingredients used to make beverages such as whisky,Rauchbier, and lapsang souchong tea are also smoked.

Now.. fret no more... just go ahead and order what you have in mind confidently...

Stop Using Plastic Water Bottles

Say NO! to this type of plastic bottles

Polycarbonate containers a health hazard
SM Mohamed Idris Jun 18, 08 4:29pm

Polycarbonate containers are extremely popular. Virtually all plastic baby-feeding bottles are made from polycarbonate. Water containers made from polycarbonate are widely used by students and office workers. They are commonly sold in supermarkets and bookshops. These containers can be identified by their hardness.

However, the chemical Bisphenol A (BPA) has been found to be leached from some such containers. Independent researchers in dozen of studies have linked trace BPA exposures in animal and test tube experiments to conditions involving hormone imbalances, including breast and prostate cancer, early puberty and changes in brain structure, particularly for exposures during key points of fetal or early neonatal development.

Thus the use of baby-feeding bottles containing BPA may cause the above health problems in babies.

A study conducted by researchers in California and published in the journal Cancer Research; found that many genes in non-cancerous breast cells exposed to trace amounts of BPA began acting in a way that closely resembled the gene activity in highly-aggressive breast tumours that led to an increased likelihood that women would die of the disease.

The study also strengthens the case that BPA has profound effects on the genes in breast cells that do not yet show cancerous tendencies.
The study results were designated a ‘priority report’ by the journal, published by the American Association for Cancer Research, one of the world’s largest scientific organisations devoted to cancer studies.
Health Canada (Canadian ministry of health) is calling BPA a dangerous substance, making it the first regulatory body in the world to reach such a determination and taking the initial step toward measures to control exposures to it.
Tests conducted in the US have found that more than 90 percent of the population carries in their bodies trace residues of the chemical, whose molecular shape allows it to mimic the female hormone estrogen. Small amounts of BPA can leach from food and beverage containers during use, such as when they are heated, exposed to harsh dishwashing chemicals containing acidic substances.

BPA is a synthetic chemical that is also known as ‘environmental hormones’. Environmental hormones disrupt the hormone-secreting glands of both humans and animals. These glands go towards making a network known as the endocrine system. Endocrine glands include the thyroid, pituitary, pancreas, thymus, adrenal, ovaries and testicles.
The ‘environmental hormones’ mimic natural hormones in the body and activate many of the biological processes in the body that might be dormant. These chemicals also have the ability to block the receptors of natural hormones, thereby preventing natural biological processes.
Further studies have also shown that the widespread use of plastics in beverage and food containers might explain the epidemic of diabetes and obesity occurring in industrialised countries. Diabetes increases the incidence of obesity, atherosclerosis, coronary heart disease, infectious disease, eye disease and kidney disease.
According to the report, repeated exposure to BPA causes insulin resistance at the cell level which lead to Type II diabetes. Tissues lose their sensitivity to insulin, causing the pancreas to produce even more insulin, further increasing insulin resistance and diabetes. This leads to a progressive cycle that reinforces itself.

BPA is one of the most widely used synthetic chemicals in modern industry. It is the basic building block for polycarbonate, the see-through, shatter-proof plastic that resembles glass. Common items include baby-feeding bottles, flatware, water bottles, liners for food and beverage cans, dental sealants, sports helmets and compact discs.

Polycarbonate plastic tends to leach BPA with age and after heating. It is sometimes identified by the recycling industry’s symbol of the number seven inside a triangle with the letters PC next to symbol.
In response to concern over the safety of BPA, many specialty retailers in the US have voluntarily removed polycarbonate plastic containers from their shelves. Therefore to expose our children to the endocrine disrupters such as BPA is to intrude on their development and so at all cost be avoided
In view of the dangers associated with BPA, CAP calls on the authorities to ban polycarbonate baby-feeding bottles and water containers from the market AND label BPA as a dangerous substance and take measures to phase it out from consumer products.
Meanwhile CAP calls on consumers to take the following steps to lessen their exposure to BPA

Use infant feeding bottles made of glass
Use a metal or glass water bottle
Avoid the consumption of canned food
Choose liquids packaged in cardboard ‘brick’ cartons
Use glass food storage containers instead of plastic
Eat fresh foods in season to avoid the consumption of canned goods
Do not use plastic wrap and plastic containers to heat food
Throw away any old and scratched plastic bottles or plastic containers
The writer is president, Consumers Association of Penang.

English Fast & Easy: In An Houar

Therefore it is wrong to say I'll be back in an hour later or I'll be back after one hour.

English Fast & Easy: Useful Phrases For Work and Everyday Life

Last month I made an entry about this book here

Today, I went to the Popular Bookstore and bought the book (in a form of a table calendar actually)

RM34.90, with 10% discount as a member and I got it at RM31.41

“The single greatest thing you can do to change your life today would be to start being grateful for what you have right now” ~ Oprah Winfrey

Crazy English

Letter from China
Crazy English

The national scramble to learn a new language before the Olympics.

by Evan Osnos

Copy&paste from http://www.newyorker.com/


Accompanied by his photographer and his personal assistant, Li Yang stepped into a Beijing classroom and shouted, “Hello, everyone!” The students applauded. Li, the founder, head teacher, and editor-in-chief of Li Yang Crazy English, wore a dove-gray turtleneck and a black car coat. His hair was set off by a faint silver streak. It was January, and Day Five of China’s first official English-language intensive-training camp for volunteers to the 2008 Summer Olympics, and Li was making the rounds. The classes were part of a campaign that is more ambitious than anything previous Olympic host cities have attempted. China intends to teach itself as much English as possible by the time the guests arrive, and Li has been brought in by the Beijing Organizing Committee to make that happen. He is China’s Elvis of English, perhaps the world’s only language teacher known to bring students to tears of excitement. He has built an empire out of his country’s deepening devotion to a language it once derided as the tongue of barbarians and capitalists. His philosophy, captured by one of his many slogans, is flamboyantly patriotic: “Conquer English to Make China Stronger!”

Li peered at the students and called them to their feet. They were doctors in their thirties and forties, handpicked by the city’s hospitals to work at the Games. If foreign fans and coaches get sick, these are the doctors they will see. But, like millions of English learners in China, the doctors have little confidence speaking this language that they have spent years studying by textbook. Li, who is thirty-eight, has made his name on an E.S.L. technique that one Chinese newspaper called English as a Shouted Language. Shouting, Li argues, is the way to unleash your “international muscles.” Shouting is the foreign-language secret that just might change your life.
Li stood before the students, his right arm raised in the manner of a tent revivalist, and launched them into English at the top of their lungs. “I!” he thundered. “I!” they thundered back.
“Would!”
“Would!”
“Like!”
“Like!”
“To!”
“To!”
“Take!”
“Take!”
“Your!”
“Your!”
“Tem! Per! Ture!”
“Tem! Per! Ture!”

One by one, the doctors tried it out. “I would like to take your temperature!” a woman in stylish black glasses yelled, followed by a man in a military uniform. As Li went around the room, each voice sounded a bit more confident than the one before. (How a patient might react to such bluster was anyone’s guess.)

To his fans, Li is less a language teacher than a testament to the promise of self-transformation. In the two decades since he began teaching, at age nineteen, he has appeared before millions of Chinese adults and children. He routinely teaches in arenas, to classes of ten thousand people or more. Some fans travel for days to see him. The most ardent spring for a “diamond degree” ticket, which includes bonus small-group sessions with Li. The list price for those seats is two hundred and fifty dollars a day—more than a full month’s wages for the average Chinese worker. His students throng him for autographs. On occasion, they send love letters.


There is another widespread view of Li’s work that is not so flattering. “The jury is still out on whether he actually helps people learn English,” Bob Adamson, an English-language specialist at the Hong Kong Institute of Education, said. The linguist Kingsley Bolton, an authority on English study in China, calls Li’s approach “huckster nationalism.” The most serious charge—one that in recent months has threatened to undo everything Li has built—holds that the frenzied crowds, and his exhortations, tap a malignant strain of populism that China has not permitted since the Cultural Revolution.

“I have seen this kind of agitation,” Wang Shuo, one of China’s most influential novelists, wrote in an essay on Li. “It’s a kind of old witchcraft: Summon a big crowd of people, get them excited with words, and create a sense of power strong enough to topple mountains and overturn the seas.”

Wang went on, “I believe that Li Yang loves the country. But act this way and your patriotism, I fear, will become the same shit as racism.”
The global headquarters of Li Yang Crazy English holds about two hundred employees (another two hundred work nationwide) and sprawls across four floors of an office building in the southern city of Guangzhou. Li is rarely there. He likes hotels. Even in Beijing, where he shares an apartment with his wife and their two daughters, he often keeps a hotel room nearby so that he can work without distraction. (A third daughter from a previous marriage lives with her mother in Canada.)

For several days this winter, Li and his lieutenants were ensconced in the presidential suite on the top floor of Guangzhou’s Ocean Hotel. The suite was furnished in a modern clubby style: a faux fireplace, white leather couches, a cavernous Jacuzzi, a large wooden model of a schooner. Fresh air was needed. Li had just wrapped up an annual marathon of meetings with managers from around the country, and a dozen young men and women were huddled, heavy-lidded, over laptops. He fiddled with the thermostat and threw open the curtains to reveal a view, from the twenty-sixth floor, of dun-colored apartment blocks and blue-glass high-rises twinkling in the sun.

He sat down on a couch and began explaining to me a list of new projects, including a retail plan that would create, in his words, the Starbucks of English education. “People would get off work and just go to the Crazy English Tongue Muscle Training House and then go back home,” he said. “Just like a gym.”

Li’s name adorns more than a hundred books, videos, audio boxed sets, and software packages, such as the “Li Yang Crazy English Blurt Out MP3 Collection,” which sells for sixty-six yuan—a little more than nine dollars—and his motivational memoir, which costs twenty yuan. He encourages companies to buy the memoir, whose Chinese title translates as “I Am Crazy, I Succeed,” in bulk for employees; orders of a thousand copies or more receive a forty-per-cent discount. (The original title used a word that implied “I Am Psychotic, I Succeed,” but the publishing house rejected it.) Most of Li’s products bear one of his portraits: well groomed, rimless glasses, a commanding grin. He says that he has no idea precisely how many books he has sold over the years. One of his publishers (he has several) estimates that the figure is in the millions.

China has been in the grip of “English fever,” as the phenomenon is known in Chinese, for more than a decade. A vast national appetite has elevated English to something more than a language: it is not simply a tool but a defining measure of life’s potential. China today is divided by class, opportunity, and power, but one of its few unifying beliefs—something shared by waiters, politicians, intellectuals, tycoons—is the power of English. Every college freshman must meet a minimal level of English comprehension, and it’s the only foreign language tested. English has become an ideology, a force strong enough to remake your résumé, attract a spouse, or catapult you out of a village. Linguists estimate the number of Chinese now studying or speaking English at between two hundred million and three hundred and fifty million, a figure that’s on the order of the population of the United States. English private schools, study gadgets, and high-priced tutors vie for pieces of that market. The largest English school system, New Oriental, is traded on the New York Stock Exchange.

Li long ago expanded from language instruction to personal motivation. His aphorisms mingle Mao with Edison and Teddy Roosevelt. Li’s shtick is puckish and animated. He mocks China’s rigid classroom rules, and directs his students to hold his books in the air, face the heavens, and shout in unison—a tactic known in Crazy English and other teaching circles as T.P.R., or total physical response, a kind of muscle memory for the brain. His yelling occupies a specific register: to my ear, it’s not quite the shriek reserved for alerting someone to an oncoming truck, but it’s more urgent than a summons to the dinner table.

Li’s cosmology ties the ability to speak English to personal strength, and personal strength to national power. It’s a combination that produces intense, sometimes desperate adoration. A student named Feng Tao told me that on one occasion, realizing that he had enough cash for tuition to an out-of-town Li lecture but not enough for train fare, “I went and sold blood.” Collect a crowd of those fans and the atmosphere can be overwhelming. “There have been times when I’ve had to run in, or ask someone bigger, a guy, to go pull my daughter out of a crowd that is just pushing so much that I’m scared,” Li’s wife, Kim, an American teacher who met him on a trip to China nine years ago, said. “Those aren’t like a ‘Wow, he’s famous’ moment. Those are like an ‘Oh, God—this is out-of-control famous’ moment.”

Li’s indispensable asset is his voice, a full-throated pitchman’s baritone. He delivers it in an accent of his own creation that veers between Texan and Midwestern, stretched by roomy vowels. He has spent only a few weeks in the United States and Great Britain, but he makes few mistakes. He exudes the restlessness of a performer who has long since mastered his repertoire. Even among professional speakers, who market their indefatigability, he is known for a startling energy level. After Li appeared in Shanghai last fall, as an interpreter for the peak-performance coach Anthony Robbins, Robbins told me, “Usually, I do my translations through headsets and burn through two or three different translators in an hour and a half to two hours—I go onstage for about ten to twelve hours a day—but he lasted the entire day.” Robbins added, “It was really, really extraordinary.”

At times, Li can be grandiose, comparing his business to Oprah’s and claiming that he has sold “billions of copies” of his books. But at others he is self-deprecating, mocking his occasional English flubs or the strangeness of his approach. He knows that these shortcomings reinforce the image he has fashioned: that of the hardest-working man in the study of English, an archetypal Chinese citizen for the twenty-first century.

On the couch at the hotel, Li turned one of our interviews into a lecture for his employees, who crowded around to listen. (Someone recorded it on a video camera.) “How can we make Crazy English more successful?” he asked me, his voice rising. “We know that people are not going to be persistent, so we give them ten sentences a month, or one article a month, and then, when they master this, we give them a huge award, a big ceremony. Celebrate! Then we have them pay again, and we make money again.”

He turned toward the assembled employees and switched to Chinese: “The secret of success is to have them continuously paying—that’s the conclusion I’ve reached.” Then back to English: “How can we make them pay again and again and again?”
In late January, China faced its worst winter weather in half a century. The blizzards coincided with the travel weekend for Lunar New Year, the most important family holiday in the Chinese calendar. The havoc was unprecedented; at a train station in Guangzhou, hundreds of thousands of stranded travellers were sprawled in the streets around the terminal.
Still, some seven hundred adults and children managed to make it to a college campus in the southern city of Conghua for Li Yang’s Crazy English Intensive Winter Training Camp. In a typical travel tale, one ten-year-old boy told me that he journeyed by car for four days, with his older brother at the wheel.

The camp had a military motif: supervisors dressed in camouflage, with megaphones, escorted students in formation around the campus. Li’s face could be seen on oversized posters everywhere, accompanied by English phrases. Above the stairs to the cafeteria: “Have you thought about whether you deserve the meal?” Along the plaza where they lined up before lectures: “Never let your country down!” Above the doorway leading into the arena: “At least once in your life, you should experience total craziness.”

Each student received a red backpack filled with books and a matching jacket emblazoned with the words “2008 International Elite Club.” Shortly before nine o’clock on opening day, the students filed into the arena. It was unheated and frigid, like their dormitories. (The previous night, I had slept in a full set of clothes and a ski hat.) In his teaching, Li associates physical toughness with the ability to speak English. At one point this winter, he announced a new campaign for “physical intelligence and ability,” and posted photographs on his blog of himself on a treadmill.

A long red-carpeted catwalk sliced through the center of the crowd. After a series of preppy warmup teachers, firecrackers rent the air and Li bounded onstage. He carried a cordless microphone, and paced back and forth on the catwalk, shoulder height to the seated crowd staring up at him.

“One-sixth of the world’s population speaks Chinese. Why are we studying English?” he asked. He turned and gestured to a row of foreign teachers seated behind him and said, “Because we pity them for not being able to speak Chinese!” The crowd roared.
Li professes little love for the West. His populist image benefits from the fact that he didn’t learn his skills as a rich student overseas; this makes him a more plausible model for ordinary citizens. In his writings and his speeches, Li often invokes the West as a cautionary tale of a superpower gone awry. “America, England, Japan—they don’t want China to be big and powerful!” a passage on the Crazy English home page declares. “What they want most is for China’s youth to have long hair, wear bizarre clothes, drink soda, listen to Western music, have no fighting spirit, love pleasure and comfort! The more China’s youth degenerates, the happier they are!” Recently, he used a language lesson on his blog to describe American eating habits and highlighted a new vocabulary term: “morbid obesity.”
Li’s real power, though, derives from a genuinely inspiring axiom, one that he embodies: the gap between the English-speaking world and the non-English-speaking world is so profound that any act of hard work or sacrifice is worth the effort. He pleads with students “to love losing face.” In a video for middle- and high-school students, he said, “You have to make a lot of mistakes. You have to be laughed at by a lot of people. But that doesn’t matter, because your future is totally different from other people’s futures.”
He strives to be as unprofessorial as possible. On book covers, he wears a suit and tie, with his cuffs rolled up to the elbow, like a bond trader. It affirms his image as the anti-intellectual who has wrested English from the grip of test proctors and college-admissions committees. At one point mid-lecture, Li called a student up from the crowd, a middle-aged man with glasses, and asked him for his story.
The man, whose name was Liu Donghua, responded in Chinese, explaining that he was the president and former editor of the magazine China Entrepreneur, in Beijing. “I just came back from the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland,” he said. (Li, turning to the crowd, interjected, “Many of them flew in on their private jets!”) The entrepreneur continued, “One of the greatest benefits was that I was irritated there—as I stood in front of thousands of the most important people in the world, I was as stupid as a fool, because my English is extremely poor.”
Turning to the class, Li commended Liu’s gumption: “If he goes crazy, all enterprises in China will go crazy!”
In the hours that followed, Li swooped from hectoring to inspiring; he preened for the camera; he mocked Chinese speakers with fancy college degrees. By the time the lecture ended, he had spoken for four hours, without a break, in numbing cold—and the crowd was rapt. In the days afterward, students would run together at dawn, shouting English. On the final night, they walked on a bed of hot coals. Between classes, the campus was scattered with lone learners, muttering like rabbinical students, Li’s books pressed to their faces, their lips racing.
Li’s parents were committed Communists who heeded Chairman Mao’s call, in the late sixties, for students to train the peasantry. After college, they settled in the remote northwest province of Xinjiang, in a town so bleak and cold that the Chinese describe it as “a place haunted by the Devil.” The family was privileged, with a house equipped with an indoor toilet. Li’s father, Li Tiande, ran the provincial broadcasting bureau, and his mother was a senior engineer there. They were essentially high-ranking propagandists. Until he was four, Little Yang, as Li was known, lived thousands of miles from his parents, in the care of a grandmother, because his parents felt ill-equipped to raise him in rugged Xinjiang. After the family was reunited, Li’s father spent most of his time on the road, returning every two or three months.
When Li Tiande was present, he was severe. Once, after Li and his friends were caught poking holes in melons on a farm, his father was incensed. “I felt I’d lost face,” he told a Chinese interviewer years later. “When I got home, I hit him. This incident let everyone see that this quiet kid of few words also had another side.” His mother was equally stern. She would watch as Li practiced his penmanship. If he made a mistake, she tore up the page. Even so, he remained an uninspired student.
In time, Li developed a crippling shyness. A ringing telephone unnerved him. “I would count it: one, two, three, four,” he recalls. “I’d say, Should I do it? Maybe something important? A phone call for me? Still I could not. I don’t know why. It’s really hard, even for me now, to directly address my parents. I cannot blurt out ‘Mama!’ or ‘Baba!’ ”
In high school, Li grew his hair to his shoulders and considered dropping out, but, ultimately, he enrolled in the mechanical-engineering department at Lanzhou University, in one of China’s poorest provinces. He failed his classes. Wu Jianjun, an older student who taught Li, recalls, “He was very introverted. He was not good at expressing himself.”
Toward the end of 1987, with a mandatory English test looming, Li and a friend decided to practice reading in an outdoor campus pavilion every day at noon. Li discovered that the louder he read, the better he felt. “I could concentrate, I felt really brave,” he recalls. “If I stopped yelling, I stopped learning.” He had harnessed something universal—the cloak of confidence that comes with slipping into a language not one’s own—and added a Chinese twist.
On Chinese campuses, there’s a tradition of reading aloud to hone pronunciation. Li simply turned up the volume. He began reciting English everywhere. “Lights-out in the dorm was at eleven o’clock,” Wu Jianjun, who is now a professor of mechanical engineering, told me. “After the lights were off, he would read English in the hallway outside his room. His reading drew criticism from other students, since it disturbed their rest.” But when the annual English test came around, Li told me, he took second place: “I became instantly, instantly famous.”
After graduation, Li obtained a state job at an electrical-research institute, and taught English classes to groups on the side; he charged students eight yuan per month—a little more than two dollars, at the time—a fine haul in 1989. With his father’s connections, he soon moved to Guangzhou as an English-language host on radio and television. After two years on the air, he was well known but bored. He quit and founded a company whose name was a phonetic spelling of “crazy”: the Li Yang-Cliz International English Promotion Workshop.
He hired his sister, Li Ning, and they rented a single room, which served as both the company’s headquarters and their home. They had desks but no beds, and slept on an oversized windowsill. They posted flyers for lectures, and they began to draw crowds. From across China, letters started to arrive, asking for teaching materials. Li’s sister was in charge of the mail, which she carried home from the post office each day in a backpack. Soon, she needed two large nylon sacks to hold it all, and, eventually, a second person to help drag them. “Then we stayed up all night opening letters,” she told me.
There was little reason to bank on the business of teaching English. China and the language didn’t have an auspicious history. In 1636, King Charles I authorized a small fleet of four ships, under the command of Captain John Weddell, to set sail for the East. The expedition headed for Canton but encountered a firefight with a Chinese fort, and more clashes ensued. As the linguistics scholar Kingsley Bolton recounts in “Chinese Englishes,” an exhaustive history, the British blamed their problems partly on a failure to communicate; they had no English-Chinese translators. By the eighteenth century, though, local tradesmen in Canton had begun to make sense of the alien language. Eventually, they composed a pidgin-English vocabulary, using Chinese characters to capture the phonetics: January became “che-na-wi-le” and the west wind was “wi-sze-wun.” They wrote it all down in “The Common Foreign Language of the Red-Haired People,” a pamphlet of sixteen printed pages and three hundred and seventy-two entries, beginning with the numeral “one” and ending with “shoe buckle.” The cover depicted a man wearing a tricornered hat and flouncy knickerbockers, and carrying a cane.
Speaking basic English was no virtue. It was the language of the compradors, the middlemen, who were so roundly reviled that they had trouble finding women who would marry them. “They serve as interpreters only because they have no other means of making a livelihood,” the reformist scholar Feng Guai-fen wrote. “Their nature is boorish, their knowledge shallow, and furthermore, their moral principles are mean.”
China urgently needed proper English for diplomatic negotiations. Feng called for special new language schools that would provide “double rations” to talented students and expose them to foreign teachers. “There are many brilliant people in China; there must be some who can learn from the barbarians and surpass them,” he wrote. And, by the twentieth century, a fresh crop of mission schools was spreading foreign languages in China in the name of God.
But when Mao Zedong took power, in 1949, he expelled the missionaries and declared Russian the primary foreign language. Within a decade, China had fewer than nine hundred secondary-school teachers of English in the entire country.
By the mid-seventies, the study of English had been cautiously restored, with limits. “ ‘Foreign language is a tool of class struggle.’ That was one of the first English phrases we learned,” Zhang Lijia, who, at the time, was a teen-ager in Nanjing and is now a bilingual author, told me. “The other was ‘Long live Chairman Mao!’ ”
Finally, in the two decades that followed, Deng Xiaoping thrust his country into the world and returned English to prominence.
In 1997, Li was trooping from city to city. In the soot-stained industrial redoubt of Zhuzhou, in Hunan Province, he met a man with a red face and an earthy farmer’s accent. Ouyang Weijian was the deputy principal of Zhuzhou No. 1 Middle School. He had first heard Li speak in the city of Changsha, and was so impressed by his “magic English-study method” that he encouraged the local board of education to invite Li to lecture in Zhuzhou. Ouyang rented the city’s largest venue, the Zhuzhou Sports Stadium, but he wasn’t prepared for the response. “It was a three-thousand-seat arena,” Ouyang told me. “We got five thousand people.”
They were an improbable pair: Li, the scion of a cosseted cadre family, and Ouyang, one of five children raised in a dirt-floor farmhouse. He was the family’s only college graduate. China, in the nineties, was crackling with new ventures, and Ouyang wanted to try his own luck. He was a natural salesman—he knew “how to talk,” as the Chinese expression puts it—and he thrived among backslappers. “Even after I became a principal, my desire to do something big was still not satisfied,” he said. After Li spoke in Zhuzhou, Ouyang quit his job and joined him as general manager of the company.
For their first big gig together, Ouyang badgered the radio station, the schools, and the education officials in the southern city of Guilin to help him promote a show. This time, Ouyang recalls, “there were three thousand stuck waiting outside.” The crowd toppled a stadium gate. The police arrived to try to control traffic on the surrounding streets. The city’s vice-mayor approached Ouyang and urged him to call it off, because the temperature inside was climbing dangerously high. “I said, ‘No, we can’t stop now. Everybody is moving and sweating and happy. It’s O.K. as long as everybody is moving. We can’t stop this now.’ ”
With recognition came controversy. Li was harshly criticized by both newspapers and professors in the province of Guangdong and the western city of Chengdu. Yet the business continued to grow. On several occasions, Li received a rare disposition to lecture inside the ancient walls of the Forbidden City, in Beijing. He led English-yelling classes for soldiers on top of the Great Wall. A prominent Chinese filmmaker, Zhang Yuan, made a documentary entirely about Crazy English.
Li was teaching in the northern coal city of Jilin, in June, 1999, when he met Kim Lee, a tall, confident brunette from Florida who had been sent by the Miami teachers’ union on a research trip to study foreign-language teaching practices. When Li introduced himself, he joked that he was a computer engineer from California. Kim brushed him off. He then approached her again, this time with the truth. “He said, ‘I’m just kidding. I’m really an English teacher, and I’ve never even been to America,’ ” Kim recalls. “So, at this point, I just think this guy is a nut job.”
Within days, Kim was teaching beside Li onstage. They had a natural rapport. Her dry wit and all-American looks were the perfect foil: an American Alice Kramden to his Chinese Ralph. They married four years later, in Las Vegas. Even there, on the Strip, Kim said, a Chinese shopkeeper spotted Li and chased down the newlyweds to shake his hand.
Kim was baffled, at first, by Li’s antics, his fire-breathing. When she noticed how students responded, however, the educator in her came to see things differently. “This guy is really passionate about what he’s doing, and, as a teacher, how can you not be moved by that?” she said. Today, she rolls her eyes at his critics—“P.C. crusaders,” she calls those who object to Li’s nationalism—and plays a major role in Crazy English, both as an editor and as a performing partner. In social settings and in classrooms, he often glances her way for a nod of judgment or encouragement. She has imposed a “ten-day rule” on his tours: if he’s gone for more than ten days straight, she gets on a plane with the kids. (“I’m just a mom who came into a bizarre life by happenstance,” she says.) While we were having dinner one night at a neighborhood restaurant near Guangzhou, Li and Kim took turns depositing shreds of chicken on a plate for their two-year-old, Lila. At one point, Li was caught up in a conversation about management styles and the toddler got her tiny hands on a drumstick. Kim nudged her husband: “So you’re just going to let her eat like a Viking?”
Last fall, Li’s blog site posted photographs from a middle-school lecture in Inner Mongolia. One picture showed hundreds of students on their hands and knees, kowtowing. Bowing one’s head to the ground is, in China, a potent symbol reserved mainly for honoring the dead. It was once required of visitors to the Emperor, and during the Cultural Revolution it was used as a tool of humiliation against those who were accused of committing political crimes.
The response to the photographs was swift. A columnist in the state-run China Daily pronounced Li a “demagogue,” and his lectures “like cult meetings.” “Cult” is a dangerous word in a country that affixed that label to the spiritual group Falun Gong nearly a decade ago and has been rounding up its followers ever since.
Li fought back. “I was pissed off,” he told me. The students, he asserted, were bowing not to him but to their teachers, at his suggestion. The explanation did little good. An article in the South China Morning Post asked whether Crazy English was becoming “one of those cults where the leaders insist on being treated like deities.” Kim’s cell phone rang so much that she stopped answering. To her, the storm felt unjust, as if they were being blamed for China’s “burning passion” for learning a language.
“People have that within them,” she told me. “He’s just bringing it out.”
For weeks after the kowtow story, Li avoided the spotlight. (The controversy “scared me to death,” he said.) His most high-profile contract was on the line: the Beijing Organizing Committee had appointed one of his companies—a joint venture between Crazy English and Aigo, an electronics-maker—to teach as many volunteers as possible. Officially, Beijing wants half of its hundred thousand volunteers to be able to speak a foreign language. That seems unlikely, but the city is going to unusual lengths in the effort. Cabdrivers have been issued an “Olympic Taxi Handbook,” a three-hundred-and-twelve-page primer on the world, which features not only a list of useful English expressions—“I want to go to the People’s Hospital”—but also a section of do’s and don’ts that account for purported national preferences and taboos: never rub the head of a Thai child; a Frenchman likes his handshakes brief and light; Americans shun “goods and packaging that use a bat-shaped pattern, believing that those animals suck people’s blood and are inauspicious.” (In China, bats signify good fortune.) The “Olympic Taxi Handbook” concludes with a section on emergencies, including how to escape from a burning cab (use your belt buckle to break the glass) and how to retrieve, bag, and ice a severed finger. When Li began to speak publicly again, Olympic officials told him to skip any signature Crazy English flourishes, like having students hold his books aloft, Mao style. The Olympic organizers were determined to avoid anything that might attract controversy, a hope that now seems quaint amid the clamor of protests abroad over China’s hosting of the Games. Still, Li has mostly held back, and his Olympic campaign continues to thrive.
Among those I met at the Crazy English camp was Zhang Zhiming, a slim, inquisitive twenty-three-year-old with a plume of hair in the front that makes him look like Tintin. He prefers to use the name Michael, and has studied Crazy English for five years. He is the son of a retired coal miner and could never have afforded a ticket to the camp, so last year he got a job as a camp security guard and strained to hear as much as he could from the sidelines. This year, he was promoted to teaching assistant at the camp and received a small stipend.
“Usually when I see Li Yang, I feel a little nervous,” Michael told me one morning, as we sat outside. “He is a superman.” Michael had trouble sitting still. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I liked him instantly. “When I didn’t know about Crazy English, I was a very shy Chinese person,” he said. “I couldn’t say anything. I was very timid. Now I am very confident. I can speak to anyone in public, and I can inspire people to speak together.” Michael first encountered Crazy English through his older brother, who had worked for Li as an assistant. His brother never learned much English, but Michael was mesmerized by it. He began spending as much as eight hours a day on English, listening over and over to a tape of Li’s voice, which sounded, to him, “like music.”
His favorite book was Li Yang’s “American Standard Pronunciation Bible,” which helped him hone his vowels and punch up his consonants. Eventually, he got a job teaching at an English school, with the hope that, someday, he might open a school of his own.
I met scores of Li Yang students this winter, and I always asked them what purpose English has served in their lives. There was a hog farmer who wanted to be able to greet his American buyers. A finance worker, studying during his vacation, wanted to get an edge in the office. Michael had no doubts about what English might do for him. A few years ago, his brother got involved in a direct-sales network, pushing health drinks and potions. Schemes like that, known in Mandarin as “rats’ societies,” have proliferated in China’s era of surging growth, fuelled by get-rich-quick dreams and a population adrift between ideologies. “He always wanted me to be involved in that,” Michael went on, and I tried to picture him extolling the benefits of a health tonic with the same passion that he now expressed about English. “I spent half a year doing this business, and I gained nothing.” Neither did Michael’s brother, who flew to the United States six months ago to try to earn the money to repay his creditors. He now works as a waiter in New York, Michael said, and, until he returns, it’s up to Michael to support their parents.
As Michael talked, the vigor in his voice faded. His brother wants him to go to America, too, to help earn money. “He has big dreams,” he said. “But I don’t really want to go there, because I want to have my own business. If you are a worker, you can’t be a rich man. You can’t buy a house, buy a car, support a family.”
Michael stared at his feet and said, “I have no choice. This is life. I should always keep smiling. But, actually, I feel I’m under a lot of pressure. Sometimes I want to cry. But I’m a man.”
He stopped. The air was silent, except for a warm wind that carried a trace of Li’s voice, booming in the stadium behind us.
A few weeks later, Michael invited me for lunch at the apartment he shares with his parents in Guangzhou. It’s in a cluster of modern high-rises on Gold Panning Road, in the center of the city, formerly known as Canton, where the compradors once chattered in pidgin English.
When Michael met me at the gate, he was in a good mood. (“I got promoted to teaching supervisor,” he said. “I got a raise.”) The family’s apartment consisted of a living room, two small bedrooms, and a kitchen. His parents were cooking, and the air smelled of ginger. Michael and his father shared a bunk bed in one room, and his mother and his older sister occupied the other. Michael’s room was cluttered with English-study books, an overfilled desk, a laptop. English felt tangible, like a third—and messy—roommate.
He rooted around in a box to show me the homemade vocabulary cards that he carries, just as Li once did. He pulled out a card marked “Occupations: Astronomer, Baker, Barber, Barkeeper, Biologist, Blue-Collar Worker, Boss/Superior, Botanist. . . . ” He wanted to play some recordings that he’d been making for his students, as models of pronunciation. He clicked on a recording called “What Is English?,” which he’d cribbed from the Li Yang Crazy English Web site. He had layered the sounds of waves and seagulls into the background and recorded it with a girl named Isabell, trading sentences as they went: “English is a piece of cake. I can totally conquer English. I will use English. I will learn English. I will live in English. I am no longer a slave to English. I am its master. I believe English will become my faithful servant and lifelong friend. . . .”
It went on for another minute, and, while Michael listened intently, my eyes settled on a small handwritten Chinese sign, taped to the wall, at the foot of his bed: “The past does not equal the future. Believe in yourself. Create miracles.” ♦

SMS = Daily Routine?

Dear students...

I know you are smiling reading and looking at the above cartoon... it is soooo true.. isn't it?

Owwhh... by the way...

Happy New Year!!

What's your new year resolutions?

Final Day of 2008

The morning of 31st December 2008 at KPTM Kuantan

Sayonara 2008

An Overdue Post

Welcome and best of luck!

I just cannot decide which one... you be the judge which picture is better....

New students with the Management of KPTM Kuantan

I wonder how many will survive the first semester... (ouchhh!!! That is sooo rude! opss sorry, I am just being honest)






p/s: This place is called The Quad! IT IS NOT Anjung Muhibah! grrrr...

Post Graduate Education Fair 2009

First and foremost...

Heartiest Congratulations to.... errkk.... you know who you are...

For the rest of us.. here is a little something to cheer us up...



BE THERE! OR BE SQUARE!




http://lifelonglearning.com.my/

Merci

Thank you for someone who gave me the Guardian Paddington Bear sticker earlier today.



Merci - French word for Thank You

How To Delete A Friendster Friend?

This is something I copy&paste from www.liewcf.com , thought it might be useful...

If you no longer want to see a friend on Friendster for any reasons (perverts, quarrel with friends, etc), it is easy to delete him/her from your Friendster friend list.

Login your Frindster home page.

Click “View All” at the upper right hand side (next to “My Friends”).

List of your friends will be loaded. Find your friend ex-friend.

Click on the X button in your ex-friend’s box.

Click “Yes” to confirm delete the friend.

Done. No more friend!

That’s easy! So far there is no way to do “batch friends delete” on Friendster yet.

Of Givenchy,LV n YSL

Fashion magazines do not tell you that....




Louis Vuitton should be pronounced as "LOO WEE VOO TONG", not "Loo Wiss Vooi Teng".











Givenchy is pronounced "ZHEE VON SHAY", not "Give Wen Qi".






Yves Saint Laurent is pronounced "EVE SANG LON"

Photos of KPTM Staff Day 2008

For more photos (hundreds of them) please click here: KPTMKUANTAN

My Car, My Home

This article from The Star caught my attention...

Living in car in memory of fourth wife
By R.S.N. MURALI

BESUT: An octogenarian is living in his car in memory of his wife.
MC456, Volvo Car, Kampung Alor Teratai, Kuala Besut is the unofficial address of 86-year-old former Customs officer Ngah Muhamad.

Home, sweet home: Ngah taking it easy in his ‘66 Volvo.

It’s a parking lot of the Alor Teratai mosque which gave him a “permanent place and allowed him to use facilities at the place of worship.”

Ngah has turned his dream car – a 1966 Volvo 122C (registration number MC456) which he bought for RM16,000 in 1975 – into his home for the last six years.
The booth and rear seat are the storage spaces for his belongings.

Ngah decided to live in the car after the death of his fourth wife in 2002.
“I bought the Volvo because she had this passion for the model. This is the car that I use to bring her out on dates. It brings back memories of her,” he said.

Asked why he was living in the car and if he owns a house, he said nonchalantly: “You know if you love someone so much, what they long for during their existence should be cherished.
“I really can’t explain; this is fondness for someone you love so much, you can only understand me once you have lost someone dear.

“I was an orphan at a young age so I don’t mind living a lonely life at my age. I don’t like to trouble my children, they have their own lives too,” he added.
Ngah said the Volvo had been his second car.

His first was a Morris Sport edition. “People used to call me a P. Ramlee carbon copy back then as I was among the few people who owned a sports car then,” he quipped.
“I used to date my first three wives with the Morris.”

Ngah recalls driving from Johor Baru to Kuala Terengganu in the Volvo in 23 hours in 1976.
“Its something amazing then as you don’t have good highways. Now you can make it in nine hours,” he said.

Ngah joined the civil service in 1937 with a salary of RM37. In 1945, he was promoted and transferred to Pasir Gudang, Johor where he spent most of his working life and returned to Kuala Besut after retirement.

Asked why he chose to stay in a such condition and not with his children, he said: “They have done their filial duties enough.”

Drink Water On Empty Stomach

DRINK WATER ON EMPTY STOMACH


It is popular in Japan today to drink water immediately after waking up every morning. Furthermore, scientific tests have proven a its value. We publish below a description of use of water for our readers. For old and serious diseases as well as modern illnesses the water treatment had been found successful by a Japanese med ical society as a 100% cure for the following diseases:

Headache, body ache, heart system, arthritis, fast heart beat, epilepsy, excess fatness, bronchitis asthma, TB, meningitis, kidney and urine diseases, vomiting, ga str itis, diarrhea, piles, diabetes, constipation, all eye diseases, womb, cancer and men str ual diso rd ers, ear nose and throat diseases.

METHOD OF TREATMENT

1. As you wake up in the morning before brushing teeth , drink 4 x 160ml glasses of water .....interesting

2. Brush and clean the mouth but do not eat or drink anything for 45 minutes

3. After 45 minutes you may eat and drink as normal.

4. After 15 minutes of breakfast, lunch and dinner do not eat or drink anything for 2 hours

5. Those who are old or sick and are unable to drink 4 glasses of water at the beginning may commence by taking little water and gradually increase it to 4 glasses per day.

6. The above method of treatment will cure diseases of the sick and others can enjoy a healthy life.

The following list gives the number of days of treatment required to cure/control/reduce main diseases:

1. High Blood Pressure - 30 days

2. Ga str ic - 10 days

3. Diabetes - 30 days

4. Constipation - 10 days

5. Cancer - 180 days

6. TB - 90 days

7. Arthritis patients should follow the above treatment only for 3 days in the 1st week, and from 2nd week onwa rd s - daily.

This treatment method has no side effects, however at the commencement of treatment you may have to urinate a few times.

It is better if we continue this and make this procedure as a routine work in our life.

Drink Water and Stay healthy and Active.

This makes sense .. The Chinese and Japanese drink hot tea with their meals .not cold water. Maybe it is time we adopt their drinking habit while eating!!! Nothing to lose, everything to gain...

For those who like to drink cold water, this article is applicable to you.

It is nice to have a cup of cold drink after a meal. However, the cold water will solidify the oily stuff that you have just consumed . It will slow down the digestion.

Once this 'sludge' reacts with the acid, it will break down and be absorbed by the intestine faster than the solid food. It will line the intestine. Very soon, this will turn into fats and lead to cancer. It is best to drink hot soup or warm water after a meal.


p/s; my friend - a nutritionist also said the same thing... drink at least two glasses of water after waking up in the morning

It's On The Tip Of My Tongue

No....! I am not making an entry about my tongue... hahaaa...

It's on the tip of my tongue is an idiom.

Idioms?

An idiom is a phrase whose meaning cannot be made sense of from the literal definition, but refers instead to a figurative meaning that is known only through common use.


A Picture Paints a Thousand Words: A visual presentation is far more descriptive than words.

A Piece of Cake: A task that can be accomplished very easily

Drive someone up the wall: To irritate and/or annoy very much.

Good Samaritan: Someone who helps others when they are in need, with no discussion for compensation, and no thought of a reward.


What's her name again? It's on the tip of my tongue.

If you are trying to remember something and cannot quite remember it, it is "on the tip of your tongue".

for more examples, pls visit this site:
http://www.idiomsite.com/

Useful Site

While hopping here and there, from one blog to another...

I found this site...

Not only useful for students but for English teachers too..

http://www.business-english.com/

Words Of The Day

Novice

Someone who is beginning to learn a trade or skill.

Example:
The top 5 riders of Malaysian Cub Prix in the Novice class from 2004 has been upgraded to race in the Expert category


Debris

Broken pieces of something that has been destroyed.

Example:
In the landslide at 4am, seven other victims were believed to be still trapped in the houses that were buried by the debris and rescue efforts were being carried out.

The Danger of Plastics

The Danger of Plastics
1. No plastic containers in micro.
2. No water bottles in freezer.
3. No plastic wrap in microwave.

Johns Hopkins has recently sent this out in its newsletters. This information is being circulated at Walter Reed Army Medical Center as well. Dioxin chemicals causes cancer, especially breast cancer.

Dioxins are highly poisonous to the cells of our bodies. Don't freeze your plastic bottles with water in them as this releases dioxins from the plastic. Recently, Dr. Edward Fujimoto, Wellness Program Manager at Castle Hospital was on a TV program to explain this health hazard.

He talked about dioxins and how bad they are for us. He said that we should not be heating our food in the microwave using plastic containers. This especially applies to foods that contain fat. He said that the combination of fat, high heat, and plastics releases dioxin into the food and ultimately into the cells of the body. Instead, he recommends using glass, such as CorningWare, Pyrex or ceramic containers for heating food. You get the same results, only without the dioxin. So such things as TV dinners, instant ramen and soups, etc., should be removed from the container and heated in something else. Paper isn't bad but you don't know what is in the paper. It's just safer to use tempered glass, Corning Ware, etc. He reminded us that a while ago some of the fast food restaurants moved away from the foam containers to paper. The dioxin problem is one of the reasons.

Also, he pointed out that plastic wrap, such as Saran, is just as dangerous when placed over foods to be cooked in
the microwave. As the food is nuked, the high heat causes poisonous toxins to actually melt out of the plastic wrap and drip into the food. Cover food with a paper towel instead.

English Grammar n Style

Fun with English grammar and style
By OH TEIK THEAM

LOOK at the following ‘stories’ and see if you can replace the italicised words with some other words to make the writing concise.

The accountant
The best friend of Tom’s wife saw him in the company of a bald man at the football stadium and told her about it. When Tom reached home later that evening, his wife accused him of lying. “You told me you were going to see your accountant,” she said.
Tom said, “That was my accountant.”

Change “in the company of” to “with”.


The secretary
The boss had asked for a duplicate copy of the document, and the new secretary asked a colleague who happened to walk by, “Do you know how this thing works?”
Smiling, the colleague turned the machine on, inserted the paper, and pressed the start button. “Simple, isn’t it?” he said. “This is an efficient shredder.”

Delete either “duplicate” or “copy”.

The maid
Before the arrival of the invited guests, the hostess said to her maid, “Bridget, make sure you don’t spill anything when you wait on them.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Bridget said. “I won’t say a word.”

Delete “invited”.


The house
A man and his wife were looking over a house. They were undecided about the purchase until the estate agent mentioned that the house was in proximity to the bus stop.
“We’ll take it,” said the man after consulting with his wife. “There’ll always be something to do in the evening, throwing stones at buses.”

Change “in proximity to” to “near”.

copy n paste from: The Star

Love Like This Lyrics by Natasha Bedingfield

Natasha Bedingfield Lyrics
Love Like This Lyrics

KPTM Staff Day 2008: Telematch

Saturday morning breakfast.. all in RED


the telematch...