Thursday, January 26, 2006

You're from Tonga?

Does anyone notice that there's an international hottie scale? Your attractiveness depends - to a certain extent - on your nationality and race.

French? Ooooh.. Mais bien sur! Je veux couchez avec toi! You don't even have to ask that corny French phrase. Italian? Definitely. Spanish? In the blink of an eye. You're lucky if you're a male citizen of any of these countries. Just go "Yue 'ave lovly aizzz" and wait for the chicks to ask where you're from. "Moi? I yam Fghench." and you're bound to get laid at Patong beach. Everybody loves Frenchmen. Except the men from every other country in the world, of course. This is my own opinion, but I think that the French, Italian, and Spanish men rank highest on the international hot scale.

If you're British, however, you will practically own the Asian niche market. The notion of being British is enough to ensure you drown in poontang if you're frequenting any club in Kuala Lumpur or Singapore City. Your age/ looks/ wealth/ manners don't matter a whit. You just have to be white and British. And it's much better to be English-British. It's apparently hotter than being Welsh or (god forbid) Scottish. Honestly, the women are equally stupid/materialistic in both cities. But then that's just the jealous Asian side of me grumbling when I see a 40-year old paunchy bald guy behaving lewdly with a trio of giggling Chinese hotties making slutty eyes. You don't trick me, I've been to the UK, and I know you're all a bunch of phonies.

So anyway, if you're British, work the Asian market. KL, Singapore, Hongkong, Bangkok, Shanghai. It's worth it. Oh, and it works if you go to America and Australia, too. But you have to remember to elucidate properly. "Bri-Tush" instead of "Bri-'ish". Speak the Queen's Own and it's like a direct button on American G-spots. Do NOT, under any circumstances, do the same in Europe. Your neighbours are wise to your tricks. They hate you, especially if you're English. British men rank at the bottom of the Hot Scale in Europe.

Next, the Japanese. You guys are hot, too, anywhere in Asia where there are young Chinese. Doesn't matter if you're male or female. Everytime I utter the phrase "my japanese friend.....", whoever's listening will invariably cut me off with "is he/she cute?"

Fuck you man. Your grandfather probably tortured my grandfather. Now you're CUTE?!? Diau!


Hehe. Just kidding. Japanese girls are so AWESOME!!! Especially the obedient "hai... hai....." ones. *sigh* Anyway, if you're Japanese, prey on the Chinese everywhere (as you have done historically. Only now the Chinese girls will willingly give up their poon to you). Just watch out for your Korean neighbours. Those rough-sounding buggers are chasing your ass on the hot-scale.

Hot-male countries: France, Italy, Spain, Brazil, Jamaica, England, Japan, South Korea.

Hot-female countries: Japan, Thailand, China, Iran(yes, Arab ladies are undeniably gorgeous, but sadly inaccessible) Sweden, Russia, and any other latin-american country. All men believe that latin women have perfect bodies and a feisty attitude. Hot!

Next, un-sexy countries to originate from if you're male: Scotland, India, Cambodia, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Mexico, Vatican City, any Arab country, and any country that ends with -stan. Apparently dark skin isn't that hot. Doesn't help if you're associated with illegal foreign workers or religion too.

Un-sexy countries for girls to be born in: The Phillipines, Germany, Australia, America, The UK (but personally I love English women. A lot of them are cute, they're sluttier and they hunt you instead of vice versa).

Unsexy countries for both sexes: Israel, Singapore, any Pacific island(Hi! I'm from Tonga!), any African nation, Laos, New Zealand, Malaysia.

Yes. Face up to it my friends. Our pussy government, after almost half a century of independence, still has not established a national identity, and as a result, we men are stuck when it comes to easy romance overseas. Write to your member of parliament and urge him to pass legislation demanding the propagation of the image of virile Malaysian men. If Marlboro can do it, we sure as hell can. Of course, it's much harder than making the world's largest Roti Canai. But no pain no gain right? Also, when we're out of the country, be more daring! Boldly pick up women. Even if it doesn't work, make sure they know you're Malaysian. Don't behave like the pussies you are back home, tiptoe-ing around women and accompanying them shopping at MNG and carrying their bags and "fetching them from work". LOL. The last one always cracks me up.

But I know ONE country where Malaysian men are hot, because they've never heard of us, and I actively and succesfully propagated that image as one of the first they've ever met. And it's a country that is REALLY filled with knockout women. In that place, Malaysian men OWN the hated French. But I'm not going to tell you where. Ask me in person, and if I think you're man enough, I'll tell you.

Instant Gratification

Everybody wants it now. It's the me generation. Everything direct-to-you, filtered, personalised, customised, spoon-fed, technicolour. now now now now nownownownownownownow.

Mcdonald's, MTV, blowjobs, Prada, love: Nothing is sacrosanct anymore. No more delayed gratification, no more dreaming and planning, no more hard work and effort, and most of all, no more generosity and consideration.

Needs. Wants. The difference between the two gets blurrer and blurrer. The economic theories of Adam Smith seem to have deteriorated into a zero-sum game where you rush to get your instant piece of pie, or you're forever left behind, hungry and destitute, while some more ambitious bugger is selling off the extra pieces he can't swallow.

People don't even KNOW what they want any longer. We're paying for things we don't really want, or even need. But we sure as hell want it NOW. NOW NOW NOW NOW NOWNOWNOWNOWNOW.

Examples: New handphones bought with the credit card with "zero annual fee" but horrendously usurious charges, scrimping every month to put that downpayment on a piece-of-shit (but most importantly, brand new) national car, the instant gratification from broadband internet, customised TV channels...... Now you can even announce your jinjang-ness with Jay Chou ringtones on your brand new Motorola Razr V3(crappy interface, but who cares? My credit card can afford it even if I can't).

People take 110% loans on piece-of-shit Gen 2s and drive around enjoying the new car smell and the "sporty"(lanciau! Sporty? If I sneezed hard enough, I could propel myself faster than your wau-shaped scrap metal) handling.

What happens when it's maintenance time? Do you know the difference between a brake pump and an oil sump? Do you know what's in synthetic motor oils? Or were you too caught up in the feeling of new-car-ownership that you refused to see the fact that your car was worth a few thousand ringgit less the moment you drove it off the lot and its future could only get bleaker? You were fantasising about the girls you could now go "dating" with didn't you? Did you budget enough of your salary to pay for the change of timing belt, tyres and the eventual overhaul instead of just your monthly loan repayments? No? Well you're "proper-fucked"(as the Pikey Brad Pitt says in Snatch) now, aren't you?

That's OK. Apply for another credit card to cover my debts, stay with my parents till I'm 30, work for a soul-less corporation and abandon my morals. After all, I've got my Astro, newest handphone, new car, Streamyx, and DoTA. Who needs to achieve great things when I can live in mediocrity and get my instant, customised-for-my-personal-enjoyment "happy-fix" for such an affordable price?

Isn't progress fun??

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

My friend Botak

I have a confession to make: Hanging out with Botak, my good friend and basketball kaki, is a certain recipe for disaster. All it fucking needs is a catalyst and a trigger, and BOOM, the rest of the world will regret we ever met.

Imagine if you will, two of the most hyperactive, shameless, thick-skinned, infinitely mischevious people EVER, and then imagine that they both have voices loud enough to hurt your eardrums if put to use, imagine also that they both love women, have a common penchant for playing practical jokes on everyone nearby, and the need to disturb anyone nearest to them whenever they get bored. Now imagine that they click like fucking lego blocks the first time they meet and discover that the other is as crazy as he is.

Imagine, finally, that both are immensely intelligent but so kiasu and have balls so big there is not a dare that you issue that they will back down from.

That's what it's like with me and Botak.

We only haven't gotten into serious trouble till now because of my marginally cooler head and his natural, intangible charm with people and his ability to judge them. It's like walking on the far side of the knife edge, and I've had to rein him in sometimes when a fight was imminent, but only because I knew the other guy would fucking die if it happened.

When we're having fun however, OH MY GOD WHAT A BLAST!!!!

We were at The Chick Showroom again tonight after dinner together, ignorant of the incessant calls in the back of our minds that we were hanging out way too frequently, endangering society at large with our overactive minds and instinctual need for havoc.

He had just told me how he had come down from his car to stare down an idiot driver he had given the finger to. I in turn told him about my brush with danger today when I also middle-fingered this moron driver who cut into my lane very dangerously and realised suddenly that there were 4 of them in the car, all mechanic types. Too late to regret, since I had very obviously given them the finger, I drove past the 4 punks with the most malevolent, bengis, trouble-making stare I could conjure, in order to make them think twice about stopping the car and rearranging my beautiful face. Luckily it worked and they backed off.

Oh, before this, you should know that the idiot Botak was having the time of his life on the ballcourt waiting for his turn to play, mercilessly teasing these two young girls who were watching the game(we didn't know the girls). After they ignored him for saying "HI!!!!" in an extremely loud, obnoxious kwai lan voice repeatedly, one of them walked over to talk to a young kid on the other side of the court. The fucker Botak immediately shouted from this side,"OI!!!! THAT GUY ALSO YOU WANT AH!!!! I'M MUCH BETTER LAH! I GOT MONEY! I GOT CAR! HE GOT OR NOT?!?!?"

She ignored him of course, but Labiq, a friend of ours who was plainly shocked at such public mating behaviour, managed a loudly whispered "wei. don't like that lah!!" in mortification because he was sitting beside Botak. Finding a new victim, Botak turned and scared him. "I tell you, luckily Khai Tzer playing ball. If he's beside meeeee.......... we're going to have SOOOOOo much fun! WUAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!" Labiq promptly shut up and turned green in horror, afraid that I might decide to abandon my ballgame and join in the "fun".

So anyway, we were at the Chick Showroom, and the next table had a party of four, 3 girls beasts and a guy. One of them had an extra-bestial face. She had a hot bod, and looked like a knockout from behind, so of course Botak was giving her the blatant up-down of her posterior.

I whispered "model from behind"(the code for the deceptive women who looked amazing from behind but were beasts from the front. He calls them "transformers", which is probably a more accurate and funny description).

"Really ah? But look OK what."
I shook my head. "Serious."
"Hah? Oh.......... Transformer ah?" and we cracked up laughing. Her back was still facing us.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAH. Yeah transformer! NO NO NO NO NO NO!! Decepticon!!! WUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!!!"
"tuh tuH NUH TUH NUH!!!!" I sang the theme music loudly and we both cracked up again.

At that exact moment she turned around. By god, she was a beast. Big, acne-scarred pockmarks on an otherwise bland face. When she smiled she actually looked worse, and I don't even mean this in a spiteful way. She had crooked, jutting teeth. It all jarred horrendously with the image any guy(i.e. Botak) would build of her from behind.

Botak turned back to look at me with a genuinely shocked expression, together with a massive dose of disgusted revulsion. He looked so funny with his mouth open that I couldn't help laughing again. Luckily the poor girl didn't know what it was all about.

Botak said in a frantic whisper,"wahhhhlau! look like my garlic naan like that!!" while pointing to the garlic encrusted bread we had ordered. "Fucking pizza face man! Extra pepperoni!"

I gave him an exasperated, disappointed look. "Where can say like that one you......." as if to admonish him for being an insensitive clod. He was starting to look ashamed when I finished with "............ why you simply go and insult the garlic naan?"

WUAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA. We almost died of laughter. Later, we saw they were celebrating one of pizza-face's friend's birthday with a cake. The 4 of them seemed like really gentle people, and were on a quiet friends' night out. When they whipped out the camera and asked the mamak waiter to take a picture for them, we considered sneaking behind and planting our asshole faces behind them with spastic expressions, but gave up because at that angle they would have caught us.

And then. And then.....

And then we hatched the maddest scheme of the week. Botak was to calmly walk over and violently smash his face into the birthday cake, Jackass-style, and then run madly for cover while I ran out to my car and picked him up from the corner of the next block. I looked over and gave up on it immediately because they looked like nice people, unfortunately, and not young punks. Also, the birthday girl was already crying because she was so touched at her friends' love for her. Botak however, was psyching himself up, hands gripping the side of his aluminium chair, breathing rapidly and deeply, eyes darting here and there erratically, searching for escape routes and possible obstacles.

"Oi! Oi! She's crying already. And they're all gentle people. Don't do it." I said firmly. "Some more I not yet pay the bill."

Luckily he calmed down, and we made our way out of the place with our dignity and someone else's birthday cake intact.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is a typical outing with my friend Botak.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Period so what? (feminazi post)

Remember the old joke? Never trust anything that bleeds non-stop for a week and doesn't die.

I got blindsided by Elaine today while I was scratching my head over the new location-based program at work. She IM-ed me out of the blue with a "humph". I answered with a "??" and she blithely informed me that she was having mood swings(that time of the month) and "humph-ed" me because she needed to find someone to take out her imaginary demons on. I calmly rebuffed her attempts to make me a virtual punching bag and explained that she was giving me way too much personal information(which I'm making public here, and for which she will undoubtedly kill me). We continued with our normal raunchy, insulting banter and amusing little girl that she is, she managed to entertain me as always. We're old pals now. I know she was just being affectionate when she picked me as her victim.

Now for some real serious shit. Ladies, in case you've been reading too much feminazi literature or watching too much Bridget Jones and actually believe that a fat insecure whore will get a guy like Hugh Grant in real life and that all guys should treat you like a little princess even if you're being a bitch, well,

YOU'RE WRONG.

You don't deserve any more respect, chivalry or deference than the next person, male or female, unless you earn it. I'm a strong believer in equal rights for the sexes, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to behave like a bitch and get away with it. Elaine's joke got me to thinking about the deranged women who actually took this female emancipation thing too seriously, and actually believed that they have a right to behave as they liked just because they're haemorrhaging slimy blood from their pussies(yes girls, I know, don't look so shocked).

Having your period does not mean that you can do outrageously rude things like give unwarranted snipey remarks, or take your temper out on your boyfriend, and explain it away with "oh it's that time of the month. Be more sensitive."

No, YOU be more sensitive. Be more responsible over your own behaviour. Imagine if a guy went out and started telling hot women to their faces that he wanted to grab their asses and explain it away with "Oh I'm feeling horny. It's the testosterone. Be more sensitive."

Oh NOW you're feeling outraged. What? It's not the same thing? But it is. We're ruled by our hormones also mah.

If you consider yourself a lady, behave like one. A dear friend of mine used to get cramps every time she menstruated, and would give up on her appetite if we went out for dinner. She never gave me any of that "be sensitive, I'm having my period" bullshit though. She never even mentioned it unless I asked. I'd find out when she pushed her food around. Believe it when I tell you I took the extra effort to pamper her and make sure she was having a good time. Any guy worth having will behave the same, but don't you agree that you shouldn't take advantage of his kindness?

On the other hand, another girl I know does that moody crying weak damsel-in-distress thing and gives me loads of chick bullshit. Sometimes I don't even know whether she's really having her period. I could take the unexplained emotional crying(you just have to tuck her under your arm and let her cry 'til she's dry. She'll inevitably smile with gratitude and swollen eyes when she's done, embarrassed that she 'looks horrible' but never for wetting the entire front of your shirt. Women!), it's the rudeness and general childish behaviour I don't put up with.

Some women take this charade too fucking far. Blame my upbringing, but I generally look out for the girls I'm with, and all women in general. But these cunts take the cake, believing erroneously that just because they've pushed around some softy guys in the past and seeing that I'm an accomodating person, they think they can get away with bitchy behaviour with me, even when they're not having their period. These (usually butt-ugly) women insist on they're rights in society, blatantly ignoring the unspoken social code that the amount of deference you get is usually linked to how hot you are(It's true isn't it? :) I'm actually extra-nice already, for judging them by only their behaviour, and not looks).They're usually feminazis, amazingly sexist women who try to take advantage of men by utilising their only weapon, accusations of sexual discrimination by men, as often as possible.

Maybe you've heard remarks like these before when a guy refused to be bullied, for example when he asks a footballing girl what's her fascination with football(since he doesn't play the sport) or when he calls her out when she's giving out anal behaviour when she's on the rag.
"What a sexist remark!"
"Yer... so not gentleman wan. People that time of the month mah! Sensitive a bit lah!"

I don't blast these bitches right to their faces. Just ignore them, guys. It's a good thing. Learn to do it. They'll probably end up frustrated with pussy-whipped useless boring guys while we get to preserve our dignity and save our energy to pamper the women that deserve it. Leave them to their loud-mouthed opinions and sexist remarks.

Sleep on it, girls: if you've behaved or thought of behaving like an asshole just because you're menstruating, don't. Its not worth it. Is a moment of instant gratification worth your dignity and the chance to be pampered willingly? On the other hand, if you're a lady and behave like one, you'll always be treated well by the men you deserve.

Dog ah?



Can you, in good conscience, look at this picture on your left and tell me that it's a dog?

I can already hear the legions of spoilt princesses cooing and sighing," Aiyoh.... so cuuuuuuute! I oso want one. I'm gonna dress it up in pink to match the colour of my iPod Nano...."

This is a RAT. Am I the only one who can see the obvious? Look at the bulging eyes, oversized ears, and skinny tail. This animal belongs to the order rodentia. And it's not even an oversized one. I've seen rats in Melaka that make pitter-patter sounds when they run in and out of the drains, and this pseudo-canine doesn't even compare to the size of those.

I believe I speak for most guys when I say that we hate chihuahuas. Actually all small dogs in general. Terriers, Yorkies, Pomeranians. All those yippy, snappy, hyperactive, oversexed, useless little fuckers. Everytime I go over to Sheng Wai's house and see his laughably ludicrous, ugly-as-shit, idiotic, mad-looking pussy of a mini cocker spaniel, I have to quell the urge to cock my right foot and let fly with a banana kick ala Roberto Carlos. And I'm a dog lover, too, so you can imagine how ridiculous his dog looks.

But I digress. We're talking about chihuahuas. I read an article in The Star today about chihuahuas and how they're apparently all the craze this season. New Yorkers being the crazy people they are, I'm not surprised one bit they decided that rabies- and bubonic plague-carrying animals are suddenly must-have fashion accessories........Yes, chihuahuas are RATS. And that's that.

The article gets more and more surreal. People make bracelet sized dog collars studded with Swarovski crystals, and they're trying to breed ultra-small "teacup-sized" dogs weighing less than 2 kilos. A woman even got paid damages by a petshop when the dog she bought "ballooned" to a massive 4 kilos, and not the guaranteed 2 kilos or less.


So how, pray tell, can a girl(usually an airhead with a lot of
disposable cash) have a hysterical phobia to the common brown rat, rattus norvegicus, yet have an inordinate amount of affection towards the animal pictured above? Something doesn't tally. Either:

  • Rich girls are extraordinarily perceptive, and can discern some heretofore indiscernible and immensely redeeming quality about chihuahuas(& all other small dogs) that separate them from rats, OR
  • Rich girls are crazy.
Personally, I'm inclined to agree towards the latter.

*Sidenote: if you're one of those men-hating, oversensitive feminazis and you're reading this, please take all the offence that you see in this article and multiply it tenfold. I meant every sexist, gender-biased remark that you think you saw. After you're finished, please rub both lips of your dry, shrivelled up, ugly, unused inner labia together to set your pussy on fire. Tip: You can use your tough-as-wire lesbian pubic bush for kindling. While you're at it, go fuck yourself with a telephone pole.


Anyway, I get sick just seeing these silly little girls squealing with delight at rats with delusions of canine grandeur. For your information, chihuahuas serve no purpose. They don't guard the house, you can't bring them running when you're on a bicycle, they're ugly as hell, and my labrador might choke on one.

The only time I loved the image of a chihuahua was when I was at King's Cross station in London during early spring when it was really cold, and this really hot babe dressed in purple marched in step with her tiny, perfectly-trained pooch by her heel, dressed in a purple furry body warmer too, both of them with their heads held high. Wow.

You know what I'd love to see? I'd love to catch a chihuahua in heat and throw it into a pound filled with Dobermanns and Great Danes and Rottweilers. Boy oh boy. That would rock.

You want to see a dog? Look at the picture below of my dog, Panther. That's a dog. Not those sissy rats with confused identities you carry under your arm.

My dog, "Panther", and my hairy leg. We're at home on a cold morning, hence the mist.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Ah Lau's blog. Totally amazing.

Friends and pretty ladies, if you haven't done so yet, please pay a visit to

"Therapy?"

the page of my good friend Ah Lau, if you want to experience greatness in prose. He writes in that familiar manner inherent in all great storytellers, infused with heart, soul, and heartbreaking sensitivity. I know him well, and it's only more poignant when he articulates the events in his life with such detail despite the sorrow that no doubt would have consumed a lesser person.

Few people write powerfully enough to move my stone-cold heart, but he's one of them. Buy me a drink after you click the link above. You'll be happy to.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

The Hobbit passed me a meme

The Hobbit tagged me. So here it is.

---------------------------
4 jobs you've had in your life
(I'll put the more interesting ones)

1. MCQ question marker for mum.
2. Cocoa picker(for a day, damn hot, damn hard work, damn messy and dirty, and damn, didn't get paid)
3. Engineering intern.
4. Program Designer.

------------------------------
4 movies you could watch over and over.

1. Fight Club
2. Pulp Fiction.
3. Spiderman
4. Big-Boob Lesbian Fairytales 2: Return of the cum-garglers. Italian Job/Ronin/Bullitt.

------------------------------
4 TV Shows you love(d) to watch.

1. Kumars at no. 42.
2. Oliver's Twist.
3. Surfing the Menu (yes, I love cooking shows, fuck off if you're not happy, you're not getting any of my fettucine in clam sauce).
4. Whose Line is it Anyway?

------------------------------
4 places you've lived (Huh. This is easy.)

1. Kuala Lipis.
2. Muar.
3. Sungai Buloh.
4. Karak(and I haven't even stated the last 4)

------------------------------
4 places you've been on vacation to(hah! This is even easier! Cuti-cuti Malaysia! Let no one say that I am not a patriot. nyeheheheh)

1. Pulau Tioman.
2. Pulau Redang.
3. Taman Negara Endau Rompin. Wait. Scratch that. That was more like boot camp than a vacation. Pulau Lang Tengah.
4. Pulau Pangkor. I got 4!!!! If you're unhappy that they're all easily accessible malaysian islands, then how about Pulau Pinang/Pulau Langkawi :) Still not happy? Ok-lah. Tanah Tinggi Genting/Cameron/Fraser's.
------------------------------
4 places you would rather be

1. Ipoh. Always.
2. Laughing and playing with the funny, incredibly intoxicating, unbelievably kind Liv(pic on right).
3. Aspen/ Lillehammer/ Whistler. Snowboarding every single day.
4. Sipadan Island. Diving every single fucking day and night.

------------------------------
4 of your favourite foods

Shite. Now this is tough.... Haggis? Liver? Blood pudding? Pig's head?
1. Mummy's cooking.
2. banana leaf rice.
3. crab(preferably with roe). In heaven we eat crabs with giant claws for every meal and never get high cholesterol.
4. eggs. Same as crab.

------------------------------
4 websites that you visit daily

1. news.google.com
2. www.friendster.com.
3. www.blogger.com
4. www.google.com

------------------------------
4 victims tagged
-none. I'm not as evil as the hobbit.

Music Review: Kanye West


I'm ashamed to say I absolutely enjoyed Kanye West's new album, "Late Registration". I usually hate the ugly looking fucker because he acts and looks like a retard(no offence to the mentally-challenged). But my conscience wouldn't allow me to pass judgement before a thorough investigation, and so I went to Tower Records and bought "Late Registration" and "College Dropout".

They were both great. Every single track is immaculately produced, overflowing with creativity and shot through with liberal amounts of melody, groove, and soul. And there are funny pseudo-boot-camp skits in between the songs to create even more enjoyment. Kanye West is good. Really, REALLY good.

Doesn't change the fact that he looks and acts like a retard though.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Goal number one (2006)

It's official. I have my first concrete challenge of 2006, and I will win this bet by a margin so fucking huge that my audience will cry in disbelief.

Tonight, over a yum cha session with Li Jin and Sien Jeen at the Chick Showroom(Tanjung USJ), Li Jin challenged me to a dunk contest. First person to be able to dunk gets dinner at Italiannie's bought by the other; A dunk defined as only a solid one-handed jam through the rim.

Finally, FINALLY, I have a worthy challenge. My goal is to AT LEAST jam two-handed by the 18th of March. And then I'm going to do a one-handed pullup on the rim while shouting "Who's your daddy bitch!!!"

How am I going to do that?
1. 8% body fat.
2. plyometrics.
3. yoga.
4. Glucosamine sulphate.

Watch this space. I'll post my dunk video before I leave for Phuket in March.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Kena Rogol

The damnedest fucking thing happened to me today. I was climbing rock at Summit USJ with Ong, minding my own business, when this teenage dude suddenly stepped in front of me and shoved his right hand into my chalk bag without warning.

He proceeded to rub his hand vigorously using MY chalk as I just stood there disbelievingly. He pulled out his right hand and I thought that he got scared from the half-tulan/half-surprised look on my face. I was surprised, but I saw he was wearing rented shoes and thought that he might have mistaken me for staff, and that chalk was free.

But NO, he only took out his hand so that he could insert his OTHER hand in. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? I entertained thoughts of slapping him(to make him aware) and then bashing him to a pulp, but it was too late for that since I was already left holding the chalk bag for him like his bloody slave. It wouldn't have been cool for me to snap out of my catatonic state now and show him what The Rock was cooking. So I just held the bag and waited as he happily had his way with my virgin block of magnesium carbonate.

Ong Puay Seong, the motherfucker, was laughing his ass off looking at me being violated by a stranger.

After the kid was done, he just patted his hands and left, not even a word of thanks.

AND THEN HE TRIED TO DO IT AGAIN!!!! I couldn't believe the bastard! I was sitting down, so of course he couldn't see it as it's usually hung by a strap behind you. He walked by, stopped and looked at me and rubbed his hands together, and then gave me a "where is it?" expression. I didn't know whether to laugh or get mad. After he searched a while, he actually came back to ask me, "can I have some chalk?"

Me being a nice polite little boy, I grudgingly lifted my ass, unhooked the carabiner and gave him the bag, but not before telling him,"Ei you scared me just now you know?"
"What?"
"You scared me just now you know? Just come and take my chalk."
"Oh sorry sorry." said without a hint of regret as he half-snatched the bag out of my hands, proceeded to undo the tight strap, and fondled my chalk ALL over again.

Ong was attempting to boulder under an overhang, but gave up, fell onto the crash pad and laughed so hard he was holding his tummy and beating his hands on the crash pad all the time, eyes all scrunched up in mirth.

After teenage rapist was done, I kept getting comments from Ong warning me not to hang my bag behind me.
"You somore hang it BEHIND ah?!?............... WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

I give up. The world is made of fuckers.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Silly-ass motherfuckers

I traipsed down to the ballcourt after Sien Jeen (that air steward dude that's probably banging those airheads by the planeload) called to ask if it was still raining at my place. So I told him the the court was still a bit wet. No big deal, and I went home to change into shorts.

For a lark, I wore the big colourful hawaiian boxers pulled really high and then that horrendous orange and red hawaiian pants to the court. And then I put on my gold-and-black sneakers to complete the horribly striking, nay, BLINDING scene.

I saw Shaun's sister stifling a giggle and missing her shot as she caught her first glimpse of the horrid apparition walking towards the court. I stared at everyone, willing them to laugh out loud and make some raucous comment, but sadly, everyone was too polite, even as they turned their heads to avoid being blinded by the unnaturally loud, disgusting mix of vibrant colours.

So we played a game and then it started raining heavily. True to form(whenever Botak is around), we behaved like silly-ass motherfuckers. Even with jagged streaks of lightning streaking down over the horizon somewhere near PJ, the two of us pretended we were NBA stars, Botak commentating about his "amazing jump-shot percentage" while getting drenched, and me in my ugly clothes leaping around the slippery court. Everyone else had run for shelter or hopped into their cars and went home, leaving two idiots playing like schoolkids.

"Oi Khai Tzer!! Like damn dramatic like that ah!!" And then he starts miming the rain dripping off his head slow-motion and giving a brooding gay look.

Terrence had run for an umbrella and was sitting on one of the benches looking at us like we were morons(we were). We continued to play out the stupid basketball drama and I grabbed the side support of the rim to "dunk in the rain" while roaring like some monster. Totally moronic. Problem was I dunked the ball right into my face, whacking my specs off as it fell 9 feet to the ground with a bent frame and a popped out lens.

We laughed our asses off as I squatted there in the rain, pushing the lens back into the frame and pretending that I was a junkie injecting heroin, even moaning with glazed eyes after the glass popped back in. Botak almost had a fit when I did that.

And then we decided to SLIDE down the grass embankment in front of the court. It all started when the ball went out-of-bounds. It was still pouring huge sheets of rain at this moment. I ran a bit and just launched myself flying onto the grass and slid all the way down and a few feet more besides, roaring with laughter at the fun of it, sputtering rain and grass from my mouth.

"I ALSO WANT!!!" Botak yelled. "aaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH Oof...... HAHAHAHAAHAHA"

And then we decided to take a rotten plank and "snowboard" down the embankment. We found a miserable 2-foot long plank that was barely wide enough to step on and attempted to slide down like some hero. Physics would determine that it wasn't wide or long enough, but that didn't stop us from our attempts to push each other down the slippery slope, to much futility and hilarity.

We determined it wasn't going to work, and just decided to slide down again on our asses, in a huge hail of mud, grass and pouring rain, laughing uproariously. We retired to the benches after we got bored, Terrence still holding his umbrella while attempting to light a ciggie for Botak. He lit his cigarette and smoked with his head facing the floor.

"Protect the cigarette from the rain!" He said.

We got around to telling stupid jokes and insulting each other as the rain slowed, and decided to grab dinner together later, at Asia Cafe.

JUST as I sat down, I saw this really hot chick sitting two tables away, staring at me. She was amazingly fair, had translucent, glowing skin, a rosebud mouth, huge manga eyes, and a pointy button nose so cute I almost went over and pinched it. She was wearing a black cardigan and a white halter underneath. So of course I ignored her as Botak harried me to go walk with him and find food. When we came back from our rounds, I told Botak.

"Where? Where..........? WAH!!! Damn cute. She's looking at me man." He said. "OH I KNOW YOU LOOKING AT ME GIRL!!! C'MON, YOU WANT SOMMA THIS, aaaaiiiiiIIGHT?"

He has this habit of talking like Ali G crossed with Missy Elliot whenever he wants to act lame or gain attention.

"Bullshit. She was looking at me." I told him.
"Yeah right. She's looking at Me!" He argued.

This continued back and forth until he spouted in hokkien,"ju kua ju boh sui lah actually(the more I see the less pretty she looks actually)."

I turned to observe and said, "yalah. Body cannot. But face still damn cute."

"Fucking flat lah she. You know what I call those ah? I call those..... bee stings. Girls must at least have a B-cup lah. Otherwise hah, aiyoh... like NOTHING there like that, like a fucking CHEST." He complained loudly.

She stood up from her table to take a phone call and blatantly walked past our table and behind Botak, directly in front of me.

"See see? I told you she was looking at me!" Botak crowed triumphantly.
"She's not standing in front of you, is she?" I asked him.
"......ya hoh. You're right...... " He admitted. ".....tapi boh sui lah(but she's not pretty lah)."
"OK lah... not bad lah." I replied while giving her that stare-cock look that she returned in kind while talking on the phone.

We got bored of the halter top girl after a while and decided to adjourn upstairs for pool.

"What the fuck? Like a bloody sausage-fest only!" I exclaimed upon seeing the entire pool hall filled with guys. "What is this? Germany?" as the two of them laughed like maniacs.

We gave up and started our pool game until Botak's eagle eye caught sight of a pretty girl playing foosball with 3 of her (pussy looking) guy friends. Idiot that he is, he walked past her on the excuse that he was going to the toilet, blatantly staring with a rubber neck like some laser-guided ass-finder.

When he came back, the first thing he said was,"Her BREASTS SHAKE WHEN SHE TURNS THE THING!!!" in a hushed, excited tone. The "thing" referring to the foosball handles.

I turned to see, and sure as not, he was right. Wow. I turned back to look at Botak with the excited, expectant look. We nodded our heads and laughed like morons again. And then all through the pool game we just angled to get a good look at her.

"Khai TZER!! Look at her! LOOK AT HER!!!"

She had one handle in one hand, and was pushing it back and forth excitedly-I assume to defend during the game, but it sure as hell looked DAMN COMPROMISING from a distance with her mouth half-open and her amazing breasts wobbling like agar-agar.

"Wah....." and the pool game was paused as two morons stared unabashedly at the amazing sight. Terrence didn't know what to make of the two of us. He being Botak's friend, I suppose he's seen a glimpse or two of Botak's innate craziness, but nothing like when the two of us were put together.

"Dude.... Can you imagine her when she's handling your...... OI!!!! Stop fantasising!" He snapped his fingers beside my head. I looked at him and started shouting the rapid-fire lyrics that I practiced to perfection seven years ago of Tupac's "Hit 'em up" that was playing over the system. He gave a surprised look and we both collapsed in laughter.

What a sweet sweet day for two silly-ass motherfuckers. I hope today doesn't turn out the same.

Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie

It's official: She's having his baby, and it will have the surname "Jolie-Pitt".

Dude, can you imagine how painful his ex-wife must feel? From Oprah and GQ, I gathered that he still loved Jennifer Aniston, and she him. Imagine how it feels like to be dumped by the person you love(most of you wouldn't know love, you stupid materialistic insecure Chinese whoresgirls, so stop reading this. You don't qualify). It's even worse when there's already a backup lover when you get dumped. And even WORSE when he's going to have YOUR baby with another woman...... less than a year after the you and him kissed and made out like star-crossed lovers on the beach.

Ouch. I don't want to continue anymore. I hurt just thinking about how she feels. Fucking tabloids. Just leave them alone. I wish the both of them the best of luck.

Fuck Angelina Jolie.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Comments are enabled

I didn't realise that I set comments on only for blogspot members and have since corrected it. However, please post relevant comments ONLY. Do not use my blog to advertise or post any links. Email me if you wish to exchange links and I will consider it. If you post spam to advertise your site, I will do the same to yours.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Signs I'm Getting Old

1. More and more of the women I find attractive have CHILDREN. I go "Wow, hot mama." and realise that she's pushing her trolley or leading her 3-year old son by the hand.
2. Teenage prefects (in navy blue skirts) nowadays are just that, teenage and prefects.
3. I've already lost my innocence, and society is hard at work chipping away the veneer of my ideals. It's damn hard work just trying to be a good person.
4. I understand, even as I refrain from, the machinations and politics inherent in lesser, insecure human beings.
5. I want to settle down and find a nice girl. emphasis on 'a'.
6. I'm taking glucosamine. If you know what glucosamine is, you are old.
7. I'm eating healthier than my grandmother.
8. I have back pain.
9. No more life-threatening shit like climbing gutters.
10. Rap has gone mainstream...... Aiyeeeee!!!!! *horror* I'm a rebel no longer.

Getting old sucks.