You know you're Malaysian when.....

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, its 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.

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. Worst if you're a malay, must have "Sambal Belacan" at least once a week. Aiyo...

Handphone, yeah english won't believe that is what we really call it

u TEXT ur frens while u're walking,driving or even while ure eating... right or notttt ?

You know you're Malaysian when.....

NATIONAL EXCUSE FOR HAIR LOSS:
-Maggi Mee.

NATIONAL EXCUSE FOR BEING LATE:
-Traffic Jam.

NATIONAL CONDOM:
-None. Most Malaysians still feel embarrassed buying condoms. So they rush into a 7-11, hurriedly grab the nearest pack, any pack, pay and leave before the cashier can even blink an eye.

NATIONAL FRUIT FOR INDUCING MENSTRUATION:
-Pineapple

NATIONAL APHRODISIAC DRINK:
-Stout. Many swear by it. But after a few pints, they start swearing at everything...

NATIONAL FAKE ILLNESS FOR GETTING MC (MEN):
-Food Poisoning.

NATIONAL FAKE ILLNESS FOR GETTING MC (WOMEN):
-Menstrual Pain.

NATIONAL CURE FOR HEADACHES:
-Panadol!!! The "cure for all". If it fails we have another secret weapon=> Tiger Balm.

NATIONAL CURE FOR DIZZINESS:
-Minyak Angin Cap Kapak.

NATIONAL CAUSE OF DIZZINESS (FOR YUPPIES):
-Happy Hours.

NATIONAL INSTANT CURE FOR DIZZINESS (FOR YUPPIES):
-The sight of a police road block.

NATIONAL RUBBISH DUMP:
-Anywhere. As long as it is not your house.

NATIONAL MOST MIS-PRONOUNCED NAME:
-Carrefour. Sometimes even pronounced as Carry 4! On second thought, why bother pronouncing stupid French brands like Peugeot, Renault or Citroen correctly. I think it sounds better when the local mechanics say "Pew Jeot".
For those still schooling, Milo is always 'Mee Lo', for those sophisticated, it becomes "My Lo". So don't be embarrassed saying "Carry 4" when the Mat Sallehs shamelessly pronounce orang utan as "rangutan".

NATIONAL ROADSIDE DISTRACTION:
-The Bra-less Tourist. See how heads turn and traffic slows down when a bra-less Mat Salleh backpacker goes bouncing about on the streets. hahaha.