This Has Gotta Work.

I have got me a plan to win over this woman whom I hope to become Mrs Bergen Von Jurgen Abdullah. With a bit of luck, and hardwork, she shall be the mother to our children you see running about in the yard playing with a trishaw. Don't worry. Having experienced playing with the trishaw myself, I would have removed all the three tyres from the trishaw so the kids won't take it to a spot where they can run it downhill. Now THAT is what I'd called a foresight. Almost clairvoyance.

Anyone knows a plan should be simple, straightforward, and requires minimum gadgets for it to work like a charm. With this in mind, I have developed a fool-proof plan which may,or may not require security clearance from these guys:

Ministry of Defence
Gagasan Saksi Nikah Kawin Selangor
Fire Department
Ministry of Local Housing
DBKL
Department of Civil Aviation
Consumers' Association of Mutiara Damansara
Residents' Association of Damansara Perdana
Persatuan Penjaja Jalanan Bergitar
Gagasan Penjual Besi Lembah Klang
Persatuan Doktor Gigi Wilayah Persekutuan
Goldsmith Guild
Yayasan Kadhi Malaysia

and other non-profit organizations who have a direct interest in this thing called Tesco Kinda Love. It isn't easy trying to keep a plan simple, straightforward and execution-friendly if you take into account the geographic factors of Damansara Perdana. For one thing this location is under the jurisdiction of Petaling Jaya Selatan, a district in Selangor. The area around Tesco, I believe, is under Kuala Lumpur. This in itself presents all kinds of administrative problems that may require a specialist familiar with this sort of thing to weave in and out of this territorial labyrinth. It simply means I may have to hire a consultant to get around this. Hiring means money, but money isn't something I am willing to invest at this point in time. It's just too early in the venture to be thinking of paying hard-earned money to total strangers who don't appreciate what is it that I am trying to achieve, or where this romantic adventure is going. He, or she, may not know how long I have waited for this golden moment to finally happen. Of course I can insist to include a clause in the service contract that he, or she, should read all my entries about Elizabeth Taylor to acquaint themselves with the concept of Tesco Kinda Love but that is no guarantee that they may, in the end, work very hard to making my dream come true. In fact they may charge me triple now that they know how much this Tesco Lady means to me. In the end, I have decided to go for it alone. The way I've always do it. It's more Clint Eastwood this way. More cowboyish. Minus the horse. And the cheque.

Say I am on aisle 4, looking for olive oil. I scan the gondola shelves to look for the brand I am familiar with. And then boom! There she is. In her dark green baju kurung, reading a label of a guacamole sauce. I push my trolley towards the general direction to close in on her position, right at the gondola end, a T-junction flanked by the cold cuts section. Music playing in the background, maybe a Chopin, or a Bach, or Dancing Queen by Abba, or Ma Baker by BoneyM. Doesn't really matter although I'd prefer something more appropriate like You Set My Heart On Fire by Tina Charles.

I pretend to look at the top shelves. Put on a face as if Tesco hasn't replenished the stock of a brand I am looking for. Ish Ish Ish. I figure out what to say. Check the grammar. And the spelling, I mean the delivery, trying very hard not to sound like a voice-over for a radio commercial of a fire sale. And just when I am about to deliver the line I've rehearsed and practised all my life, she has to go over to the next aisle.

Music change. Maybe Rasputin by BoneyM. Make that One Of Us Is Crying by Abba. Wait the minute. This is no time for crying. Change that music to something like Dance Little Lady Dance by Tina Charles.

End of Plan A.

Gotta work out Plan B, which deals with how to handle the situation in aisle 5.