You Know You’re Malaysian When….
You complain about the quality of the pirated DVD you just purchased. “What, RM10 for DVD5?! Aiyah, boss … sound no good, cheaperlah …”
You’re willing to consume sambal petai and durian and gladly suffer the bloating and wind-breaking incidents.
You’re exceedingly polite to the Mat Sallehs but you slag your own kind. “Hello, sir. Why don’t you sit here, it’s got the best view of the city skyline.” But, “Aunty-ah, your table is over there next to the kitchen.”
You order Maggi goreng and fried chicken, complain about how oily the food is, and then proceed to finish it anyway.
You love to talk about food. You’re already thinking about what to have for dinner while eating lunch. “I’m stuffed. What shall we have for dinner?”
You dive into a communal-style meal the moment the dish lands on the table only to hesitate at the last morsel of food on the serving dish. There are two possible explanations for this: the first is the pai seh (embarrassed) factor, while the other is the myth that the person who eats the last piece will be a spinster.
You hit the accelerator the moment the first drop of rain hits your windshield. “Alamak, it’s going to rain. Sure traffic jam one. I’d better drive faster.”
You seize the opportunity to make a U-turn anywhere … especially where there is a sign telling you not to. Well, so long as the cops aren’t in sight.
You feel a burning desire to send text messages and even have the gall to give your friend a blow-by-blow account of the movie to your friend on the handphone — during the screening of the movie. “Okay, now that girl Lizzie is impersonating an Italian singer; she so doesn’t look Italian …”
You forsake your loved ones for the all-important four letter-word: S-A-L-E. “Sorry, mum, I can’t take you to Aunt Mary’s because I have to go to MidValley before the crowd.” You’re also more than happy to be part of the insane traffic jam that forms around malls during weekends and sale periods.
11. Reality shows Akademi Fantasia and Malaysian Idol dictate your social life. “What, no TV at the mamak? Count me out — I’m staying home. Rinie needs my support.”
You pepper every sentence with lah. “No-lah, I can’t see you today-lah. I have to study-lah. You know-lah, the prison warden aka mak is watching me like a hawk”
You fail to function normally without your daily dose of teh tarik and nasi lemak.
You have owned at least one Proton in your lifetime. Cheap, cheap. That is until you start to make enough dough to buy that Honda you’ve been salivating over.
You slow down at an accident site to take down the car number plate, but won’t step out of your car to help — the victim could be a robber!
You’d rather park your car along the main road outside the mall, where there’s a yellow line, rather than pay RM1 to park inside where there are adequate bays.
You plead, bat your eyelids and relate a sob story to the officer at the town council office to let you off the hook (or reduce the amount considerably) for the fine you incurred when you parked your car on the double line.
You make an appointment for 10am and conveniently show up a half hour late — Malaysian time, what …
You pop open the wet tissue packet at the Chinese restaurant by squeezing the trapped air to the top of the packet before proceeding to smash your fist into it. The louder the pop the better.
You greet your friend / neighbor / acquaintance on the street with “How are things?” or “Have you eaten?” or better yet, by stating the obvious: “Went to market ah?”
Ramlee burger is the “piece de resistance” of your growing-up-years cuisine.
You catch all major televised events at the mamak.
You have roughly six meals a day (breakfast, mid-morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner and supper). Then there’s the snacking — keropok ikan, pisang goreng, muruku, jam tarts and the like.
You get the whole family dressed to the nines, jump into the car and head for the minister’s open house — and ask for styrofoam boxes and plastic bags to tar pau food.
Your accent and language style vary according to the race of the person you are conversing with.
You’ve got a friendly disposition. Smiles are abundant and your “Apa khabar?” is warm and sincere.
You exclaim loudly how expensive everything is, even though the items may in fact be going for a steal. “Wah! So expensive, ah? Hak sei ngor (Scare me to death)!”
You dig deep into your pockets to contribute to the latest appeal for donations in the newspapers.
You “dis” our country all the time, but as soon as something good happens (like winning the Thomas Cup), you morph into a proud Malaysian.
You never travel abroad without a bottle of chilli sauce, or sachets which you can sneak into restaurants.
You’re proud to be Malaysian – and you pass these jokes on to all your Malaysian friends!