Khai Tzer's Bachelor Pad

Humour + Sadness

2008-03-07T17:56:00.002+08:00

Hilaripity :- That urge to laugh and shake your head in sympathy at the same time. Frequently occurs when a good friend breaks up with his girl, and when you bring him out to drown his sorrows, he inevitably points out the girl in a group that looks like a carbon copy of her, and tells you "that girl is really hot". It's so funny. But it's so, so heartbreaking.

Idealism.

2008-03-07T10:56:00.005+08:00

Cynicism. Now that's a sign of maturity. That and the languid acceptance that once crazy shit is just run-off-the-mill now......

Chinese Cosmopolitan Conundrum

2008-03-07T07:11:00.003+08:00

I've been pondering this for a while now. Lend me your opinion.

What would you do if you frequently chance upon foreigners who take a condescending, stereotyped view of the East and disparage your culture or country UNKNOWINGLY?

Here's an example: You meet an American girl. She comments (with much finger-wagging and eye-rolling) "You know when I was in Terengganu? I sooooooo hate the way you people stare at me when I kiss my boyfriend. I mean, it wasn't like we were making out! It's just what couples do, right? And what about that horrible nasi lemak thing? It was so freaking hot! How could you eat something like that?"

Since you're intelligent, empathic, well-educated AND well-travelled, you immediately understand that she doesn't intentionally mean to offend. Her culture is one that encourages her to speak up and express herself, and so she's just giving her opinion on what she finds annoying. You know that she doesn't understand the pride locals take in their cuisine, and that the identities of both are inexoably linked. But you can't help but be pissed off that she's offending local sensibilities by kissing in public, and worse, she's insulting your food!

But you restrain yourself, and you hate it because you understand her culture intimately, and know for a fact that she didn't mean to cause the offence that she did. And you feel so geram that you can't just insult her back, because then you'd be as louche and unaccomodating as she.

Conversely, the moment you say something about real football being played not using the fake egg-shaped thing that huge men throw about on the field, she takes offence, going on about how stupid "soccer" is and how "people back home thinks it's a real dumb sport."

And therein lies my dilemma. Does harmony override pride? Where do you draw the line between "patience" and "doormat"? Does your upbringing and social grace dictate things, or do you allow yourself to ignore your own cultural references and take them on their own ground, using their own rules and logic? Doesn't that make you as uneducated and barbaric as they are? Or do you "do as the Romans do?"

Tell me.

"So when are you getting married?"

2008-02-27T11:45:00.003+08:00

What? Has everyone gone nuts all of a sudden? People are barely out of Uni. They're barely starting the rat race. What's with all these marriage talk? What happened to plain old "How are you?" What's with all the tacking on of "So, are you planning to......" at the end? Has it suddenly become acceptable for people in their mid-twenties to talk about marriage? When biological clocks and Asian male cowardice hold hands to overwhelm logic and common sense, suddenly getting hitched jumps into the forefront of our collective consciousness.

I don't mind when old friends ask me "Eh so bila kahwin?" as old friends do after they haven't seen each other for a while. I usually reply with "Eh don't curse me lah... so you leh? Bila kahwin?" Hehe. That's some funny shit. It's even better if you answer with "Aiyah my girlfriend lah. Forgot to use rubber that day. Now I'm puking every morning and got this weird craving for ice kacang. I also don't know how to tell my parents."

Then we got the marriage nazis. Look, I don't mind if you're getting married. That's your choice. On an intellectual level, I might even have the opinion that it's an outdated cultural relic that has no relevance in a world where we might soon see the first female American president. Doesn't mean that I'm not happy for my friends if they tell me they're getting hitched, with that glow on their faces and happiness in their eyes. I grab them and dance a jig with them. What turns me off are some insensitive people who think that just because they're planning to do it, other people have to rush out and do it too. And they ask you "when are you getting married?" in a tone of utter seriousness, even of casual acquaintances.

What gives you the right to ask such a personal question as "so when are you getting married?" Such insolence. Such utter lack of class and social grace. Here's a piece of advice, don't ask someone that unless you're sure they're getting married, or you might find yourself in an awkward situation. You know the saying about people who assume making and ass out of 'u' and 'me'? What makes you think that two people who are together are automatically getting married? Ever thought that asking such a question might be insulting to one or both parties? Ever figured out that you might be impinging upon the privacy and right to self-determination of a relationship?

Next person who asks me that, in a socially unacceptable manner, gets two possible answers.

If you're a guy,"So when do you plan to bring your sister/mother for me to fuck?"
If you're a girl,"So when are you planning on taking it up the ass?"

Pet peeves

2008-02-20T19:00:00.003+08:00

1. When I overhear an argument between morons, both with their facts wrong.....
"Eh Yugoslovakia lah!"
"No no! Czechoslovakia and Serbia were both part of Bosnia-Herzegovina!"
............. niama. Worse than nails scratching on blackboard. What the fuck is a Yugoslovakia?

2. Fake tits.

3. Primary schoolkids practicing "the shuffle", which brings me to...

4. Ah Bengs.

5. DOTA. Get a life.

6. Radio deejays on the 'hit stations' spewing a million words a minute when talking to people who call in. They're like banner ads on a website: A lot of noise but no content.

7. People who repeat hearsay as gospel. "I heard...." "They say...." Here's a tip, unless it's first-hand info, it's usually bullshit. And you're a dumbass for believing bullshit.

8. Fuckers who use the word "Bro..." in inappropriate context. They'll bro the waiters, the ushers, the fucking bouncers, the bartenders and every one of the help, and then turn around and complain to their friends about the atrocious service. What the fuck? Your brother wut! You settle it lah!

9. Obviously beta fuckers who brag and try to show-off about the number of girls they've banged. Same goes for girls who brag about the number of boyfriends they've had. Ish. Attention deficit meh? Who cares??

10. Feminazis. Let's not get started.

11. The fuckers who study overseas for a few years, then come back and speak to their own people with the 'fili-feleh' accent. Diu lei lou mou chau hai...... Oh you understand ah? I thought you guai lou! Sorry ah! :)

12. People(pronounced "Soh-hais") who drive slowly in the fast lane, or worst yet, drive slowly while hogging both lanes.

13. Taxi drivers. Oh wait. I'm being redundant.

13. Mercedes drivers. Oh wait. I'm being redundant again.

14. Subang drivers. Oh wait... again. Sorry.

15. Seeing melt-your-shoes-off-hot girls with ugly-looking dudes.

Lush, Kaki Botol, Alcoholic, Bar Fly, Drunkard

2008-02-15T12:12:00.004+08:00

While (tee-)totally sober last night, I had an epiphany (Oh it was horrible. Whoever it was that said enlightenment would set you free must have been totally coked up or shot up)...

First, some background: Flooded to the gills with antibiotics and some insanely powerful flu meds (which incidentally cost me half an arm and my first-born) to treat my persistent cough-till-I-tear, blood-stained-snot, viscous-vicious-brown-phlegm flu, I was (for once) scared enough to follow the instructions on the zip-loc medicine baggies and take my meds religiously. I also figured that meds and Mr Johnnie Walker probably wouldn't get along together, hence my total abstention from alcohol on a Thursday night at Maison. Yes, almost unforgivable, I know. Unless you're on fucking-scare-my-socks-off pseudoephedrine.

And thus, after a long night of swilling water, standing awkwardly around and not dancing or making friends with strangers, I come to a horrifying realisation: I might just have become one of those people who only become interesting after a few drinks...

My heart started thumping and the ego was reeling in horror while the id calmly slapped the facts into its face.

"Boy! When was the last time you partied sober? Are you afraid to go talk to the strange people at the next table tonight? What the hell happened to your footloose dancing? Where are the laughing crowds and the adoring women tonight?"

My mind gasped and thrashed at the audacious bluntness and the possibility that it.... just.... might.... be..... *horror of horrors*..... true! Was I really a lush? Could I have been seduced by the same party culture (giving in to the uniquely Asian practice of equating drinking alcohol with giving face) that I've struggled so far to avoid?

No no... It wasn't the only reason. My mind finally filtered through the scare-mongering unleashed upon it by a latently evil subconscious. It was a combination of being sick, stress and sleep deprivation that mainly caused my lack of spirit, although the other "lack of spirits" was admittedly not helping me lose my inhibitions.

One good thing came out of it though. I'm not going clubbing for the foreseeable future. Got to get back into shape after the joys of Chinese New Year eating and drinking, the ultra-killer 3 week flu, and the string of hard-partying late nights that have been a mainstay of my calendar for the past 2 months. I look in the mirror now and my abs have gone into hibernation under a nice warm layer of insulation, my muscle tone's shot to shit, and my face looks like I'm actually 26(instead of 18), for once.

You want a new year's resolution? Being washed out and tired from bad living sure is a good motivator for one, and no prizes for guessing what it is.

Arsebook.

2008-01-28T06:12:00.000+08:00

I swear, if Facebook gets any more addictive, we'll have rich kids snorting lines of (Super)Poke from the arsecracks of hookers, psychologists will study the urge to draw imaginary rectangles around people and 'tag' them, people will start popping $1 virtual gifts instead of Ecstasy, sheep and cows will be defenestrated by zombie ninjas, and possession of over 2kgs of "new notifications", or 500g of "please confirm friend details" will be punishable by death in Malaysia.

I met Sailor-Girl again.....

2008-01-02T05:53:00.000+08:00

...... she's still as gorgeous, still as big-hearted, still as twinkly-eyed as ever, and she still gives me that heady, terrifying, delicious sensation that I'm doing a running jump off the edge with my heart in my mouth. So, so, SO hard to resist......

60 Things I did in December.

2007-12-28T21:08:00.000+08:00

The past month, I.........

....... have gone jogging in-2C weather.

2....... baked an ENTIRE trout.............in salt.

3....... lived the road-trip cliche, driving in a junk car with 2 great(drunk) friends......

...... while getting drunk in the car......

....... and singing at the top of my voice to the Beach Boys. "SURFINNNN........ YEW ESS EHHHHHHH!!!"I'm cringing so hard now in embarrasment that my upper eyelids are wrapped around my nostrils.

4....... went to a Santa Claus theme party, replete with hot, drunk elves......

.........where we teased a cute girl about her big breasts and short legs.

5....... tried Karsk - coffee and home-made moonshine (90% alcohol!!!)

6....... beat the cheating locals at their own drinking game using Scandinavian trivia.

7....... almost bought a girl from Lappland for 50 Camels ( 1 camel = 2 reindeer, according to the Drunkard's Exchange Rate)

8.......met a very sweet farm girl with 9.5 fingers.

9....... ransacked her fridge and stole her housemates' food to cook after the party......

10.......was invited to breakfast at the same place the next morning, where I realised that the wildest parties end with milk served in broken glasses.............and a mini bottle of Jaegermeister.

12....... gave someone a 10000 km surprise visit.
13....... was spoilt rotten by someone else's grandma, who -like most grandmas- stuffed us full of food, sent us to play pingpong in her (really cool, and really cold) basement, and then had coffee and really nice cake ready for us when we were finished. Thanks Erlend's Grandma! We love you!

14...... gone 4 days without showering. And no, I didn't stink on the 4th day. I just couldn't stand that stifling reminder in my head going "oh god oh god you have to shower you're gonna stink and get skin disease and itch like crazy oh god oh god oh god...."

15..... tried to slide around a slippery icy cemetery car park with an '85 Camry in fog at night.

16...... was almost ass-raped by two good friends.
17...... went to Hell and back. Hell hath freezeth over. And it's just next to Trondheim airport in Vaernes.

18...... watched 'Bad Santa', one of the most awesome Christmas movies ever (that has nothing to do with Christmas :) Makes me wanna grab a Santa suit, a hot girl, and a beaten-up American car with squeaky springs.

19...... seen a good friend happily dress up in drag. My eyes!! Oh my eyes!!!

20...... collected so many empty cans and bottles from Tore's tiny apartment that we could sell them for close to 400 kroners(almost RM300!!)

21...... laughed my ass off when Erlend pelted his father with snowballs when he saw his father peeing outdoors, causing him to wet his trousers.

22...... watched my first episode of "Californication". It was awesome.

23...... expelled an egg-fart so awesomely, disgustingly smelly that it almost made the driver throw up, and woke up the passenger in the backseat, who immediately shouted at me with a lot of bad words, questioning my breeding, parentage, and sexual habits. I should explain that it was revenge for calling me JungleBoy and blaming me for any funny smell they picked up. I told them while they were gagging that THIS was the JungleBoy fart, and that they'd never mistake any other smell for it.

24...... gone snowboarding, and promptly crashed at high speed on the last run of the day, fucking up my ribs and knee.
25...... made trout pasta..............AWESOME!!!!!

26...... made brown snow.

27...... watched sheep fucking in the winter. The perverted-looking guy in overalls helped a bit too.....
28...... learnt that my friend has a cute little squealy snorty pig as a pet.

29...... met a tiny (but amazing) girl who trains for endurance by running 20km every alternate day in winter. And then drinks Cognac at night.
30...... saw friendly horses in snow.31...... stood on a corner of a shopping mall just to watch people slip and fall on icy ground.

32...... saw friendly ducks in snow.

33......was carsick everytime I got in the car, because they drove on the wrong side of the road.

34...... had a very patriotic Norwegian try to convince me that "The 300" was a Norwegian film, and that Tacos are a Norwegian food. Dumb-ass.

35......was invited to a Santa Claus party......

......where I didn't know a single soul.... ...... but we decided to get smashed...... and ended up becoming best friends with everyone!

36......witnessed how those vikings drink.

37...... ate fresh giant scallops............and SCALLOP ROE!

38...... enjoyed FRESH cod. From the sea. Steamed in its own juices. Ho ho ho.

39...... ate risgrøt... Yes it looks grisly. No, I don't like it.
40...... helped to built a jungle playground in the forest, for kids at the school nearby........we're not fooling around. It was for 'testing' purposes.

41...... took a ride on a snow-scooter.

42...... was driven on ice by an ex-World Rally Championship driver.

43...... watched my parents ski and snowball fight for the first time.

"Ouch!"

44...... stood on my head in the snow.

45...... witnessed beauty, everyday.

46...... infected gwailous with the phrases "yes-ah?" and "nice-ah?" and "You want ham lan?"

47...... bought Jamie Oliver's "Jamie's Italy", which I've been eyeing for such a long time.

48...... been out to sea on a fishing boat in winter.

49...... been doing indoor climbing.

50...... gotten so drunk I puked for the very first time. Half a bottle of Glenfiddich, 2 gin tonics, a beer, some wine, and a lot of homemade moonshine mixed with tea. Oh, and another pint of beer and a quarter bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Even Silje's squealing "Khai TSAAAHHHH".......

....... while trying to lick me didn't scare me much anymore. I actually picked her up!

........and I was sociable.....

.....really....

.....really....

.....really....

..... really sociable :)

51...... took pictures with strangers.

52...... Met the legendary Polsa, or "Sausage" for the first time. There are two stories why he's known as The Sausage, but neither are fit for public consumption.

53...... wrapped myself in a giant quilt, and later walked down the road with it when we went for supper, because it was cold, and I was drunk.

54...... played with pussy while cards were strapped to my head.

55...... read the very controversial (and banned on pain of incarceration in Malaysia) Salman Rushdie book, "The Satanic Verses".

56...... had my specs stolen by a naughty elf.....

...... but I got them back.

57...... was hugged by a cute girl.

58...... Became very good friends with a very drunk, but very kind Knut who shared his gin with me as we stumbled to the club, all the while promising me he would save me if there was a fight.

59...... was almost licked by Erlend's cute blonde (drunk) sister.

60...... was hugged by a really, REALLY nice girl :)

It's a hard life *sigh* ;) But someone's gotta live it!!! HAHAHA! A very Happy New Year to all my friends. Wishing you multiple orgasms everyday!

Cheap gas, otherwise known as incest

2007-12-16T00:06:00.000+08:00

Background: Tore works at an Esso gas station, and he gets a 50 cent discount on petrol, and he was trying to explain it to me. Erlend and I, being real evil motherfuckers, naturally jump on every chance to punk anyone we see.

Tore:....... so I get like, a 50 cent discount on every litre.
Khai Tzer: Is there a limit to how much you can pump?
Tore: Nah.... There's no limit.
Khai Tzer: So you can 'pump' as much as you want? (Trying to get Tore to use the word 'pump' in a compromising manner.
Tore: Yeah. So the other day right? I was pumping my er....
Khai Tzer: Girlfriend? Hot chick?
Tore: ........ my sister's....
Khai Tzer and Erlend: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Tore: NO NO NO NO NO!! My sister's car!
KT and Erlend: BWWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAAHAHA!
Tore: Shit! You motherfuckers!
KT: At least I don't PUMP my sisters!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Proton thinking of producing "Islamic Car".....

2007-11-13T02:01:00.000+08:00

......with a compass that points permanently towards Mecca, and a compartment to store the Qur-an.

I kid you not:
http://www.autoblog.com/2007/11/12/proton-may-build-worlds-first-islamic-car/

Come Boy! Come take pitcher!

2007-10-05T02:04:00.000+08:00

I finally got around to uploading my photos to flickr. Click here or on the picture to enjoy and please criticise the hell out of the pics. You'll help me take better pictures. Cheers, and here's one to whet your appetite:

The blurred line between "want" and "need"

2007-10-02T04:20:00.000+08:00

A pro flickr account. US$24.95.
A Shun 8" chef knife. About RM500. Drool.
A few bottles of my favourite Red Island olive oil. I swear, you'll finally understand what the big fuss is about olive oil when you taste this. (Oil that has taste, you say? Ah-ha! ;) Come over anytime I'll give you a taste from my dwindling supply. Anyone coming back from Australia soon?) I also want to try the Yellingbo Gold I'm hearing so much about. But it's about 80 bucks a bottle. And that's blood-vomitingly expensive for cooking oil. Argh.
A pair of white and gold Adidas sneakers
A few big huge 24" LCD screens. They're already less than 1k each nowadays so it's really tempting.
A nice pair of loafers. When's the next Hush Puppies warehouse sale?
iPhone.

"NO NO NO! Lei tehng ngor gohhhng!!!" @ Life Lessons Redux

2007-09-24T19:53:00.000+08:00

One of my best friends, Sheng Wai and I used to have this running joke: Whenever we wanted to give our opinions or offer unsolicited advice to each other, we'd place one hand on our hips, wag the index finger of the other hand, shake our heads in "wise contemplation", and preface any incoming cock-talk with "*mou mou mou...... lei tehng ngor gohhhhngg....." like those old uncles at Chinese coffeeshops who spend their mornings spouting cock to one another. Oftentimes, the forthcoming nonsense was overwhelmed by belly-aching laughter.

*"no no no... you listen to meeeeeeeeee......."

It's not so funny nowadays. If we still use the phrase, more often than not it's accompanied by a cynical laugh. Sheng Wai actually uses the phrase like he means it *sigh*.

IMHO, Growing up is the hardest piece of shit that you will ever experience. And despite your parents' best efforts at protecting you and shielding you, there are no shortcuts. When you attend the "How to be a grown-up" school, you have to learn every lesson.

If you're a protected little brat, Life will eventually dig you out of your velvet vault, and then throw the lessons at you with all the violence you can imagine. The best you can hope for is that every lesson you learn doesn't scar you, give you phobias, or otherwise leave an impression that will mar every interaction you have for the rest of your life.

Recently I've been getting this sick-in-the stomach feeling everytime I learn something new. A lot of people would consider themselves grown-up at my age, knowing enough not to kill themselves if left unsupervised - Don't play with scissors, don't play with fire, don't punch the bully who has 4 grunts with him and is double your size.... That sort of thing.

I'm fairly confident that I've learned enough to survive, but I honestly doubt if I've learnt enough to thrive. The old "The more you learn, the more you realise there's so much you don't know" adage, right? Nowadays It's almost like there's a monotonous tape recorder repeating that line whenever there's something to learn.

Probably the only thing keeping me sane is that at least I'm aware of it, and how easy it is for a lesser mind to just close off, take life's lessons at face value, and just let your prejudices colour every experience you have, choosing only to see what you want to see, and stop learning altogether. That's what causes misunderstandings and wars and a desperate need in the human psyche to impose his or her beliefs upon others.

The last weekend while we were eating a very awesome, very delicious dim sum brunch in Ipoh, a skinny old man who was waiting to pay the bill approached out table, pointed to a half-eaten fried dumpling, and said jokingly,"You're not allowed to leave if you don't finish that."

I turned around and gave him the obligatory non-committal smile that you reserve for uninvited old men who make stale jokes to strangers, saying nothing. We were all surprised at his interruption into our conversation, and I bet every single last one of us was wondering when this irritating man was going to leave us in peace. I for one was fixated on the bill he was holding, and was willing him with all my non-existent psychic power to walk that extra one meter to the counter behind us, present his bill, and leave us the hell alone. Thanks to our Chinese upbringing, none of us grown adults could bring ourselves to tell the old gentleman that he was interrupting us.

He started talking and asking us questions, and slowly but surely, my irritation turned into curiosity and eventually, to fascination. He started out acting like a typical old man, forgetful and overbearing, asking my name a few times and forgetting it each time. But after he told us his life story, and after I found out he was 84, I was astounded beyond belief. He still had all the hair on his head(and most of it was still black!!!) and I could see he had all his own teeth! My god, I thought, he's 84 and still walking straight, visiting his favourite breakfast spot 6 out of 7 days a week, and he had a good enough sense of humour and natural curiosity to strike up a conversation with total strangers( who weren't too friendly, I might add). What struck me most of all was this joie de vivre, this enjoyment of life, of wanting to know and learn about people. I probed and found out that he had a business distributing fabric and clothes, a huge shop, and best of all, he was still active in business, managing the accounts and keeping track of stock while he let his children manage the place.

The old uncle never once said "lei tehng ngor gohng", and was humble to a tee. I could see in his shirt and watch that he was a wealthy dude, but this didn't stop him from being friendly, even to people who didn't want to talk to him at first. Asked the secret of his health, he told us this, which I have read time and time again in many interviews with very old people: Listen to your body. Don't consume what it can't stand, and everything in moderation. Very consistent logic.

He left us with this gem: Woh hei, or "harmony" in Cantonese, was all-important. Do not insult or cross others, and to give way whenever possible. Very very zen, but he was nothing if not successful, was happy, and had a huge family, and I wasn't about to allow a morsel of wisdom, gleaned from almost a century in experience, pass me by. I haven't yet fully digested the implications of giving way instead of fighting, but you can bet that I will. Life is too short to make my own mistakes.

Merdeka?

2007-09-03T04:41:00.000+08:00

Freedom? from what? The systematic wasting and destruction of our young minds? The ego-fueled power-madness of the "People's Servants"? The rampant corruption that forces the regular joes to be selfish survivalists?

So we've traded colonial imperialism for tribal feuding. Yay. Now we can have potholed roads, disappearing public funds, and institutionalised racism. Such joy. Can't you hear me laughing in such glee at the barbaric insistence by certain quarters that we live in harmony and peace, in freedom as equals, but they are 'more equal' than others (like the pigs in Orwell's "Animal Farm")? And any attempt to comment about the situation will be met with ominous threats of murder and slaughter shall the perpetrator return from Taiwan?

Freedom of religion? Apparently a consitutional monarchy is now an Islamic State.

A social contract is basically a promise of loyalty and service by an entity, in return for protection and support by another entity(I fear repercussions you see? Peace and harmony and black Pajeros and all that - and have thus written these post as vaguely as possible so that only the enlightened will understand my words), and as far as I'm concerned, the entity that promised protection and support failed to do so. That's a voided contract, in my humble opinion.

Merdeka? Fireworks and happy parades saluting thieves and knaves? I feel more shackled than ever, you bastards.

Undercompensating......

2007-08-13T03:09:00.000+08:00

You know what they say about people driving big cars because they're compensating for small willies?

Well, I don't mean to brag, but I drive a Kancil.......

:)) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

The Rise of Anti-Socialism

2007-08-13T01:09:00.000+08:00

By and far, I'm glad to be staying in KL. There's so much to do, so many people to meet, so many opportunities, all the hot Ipoh girls I know have already moved here, etc. etc.

Anyway, life is supposed to be good and fun and everyone's happy and contented (Porsche crashes and snatch thefts excepted).

However, there's one thing that annoys me just a tad: the assholes who are supposed to be your neighbours. Come on, man. Did you go to school, or what? Didn't your teacher teach you to be polite? Or maybe your parents are barbarians, is that it? Kurang ajar, betul........

Not all of them, mind you. The guy in the next apartment is friendly. I mean, I don't know his name, but we greet each other in the morning, or when we're in the lift. You can be mindful of your privacy, but that doesn't stop us from being polite. Is a 'hi' or a 'Good morning' that hard to learn?

The bunch of cunts in the apartment on my other side, however.....

Just now, when the lift opened and I saw two of the fugly warts inside, I controlled my gag reflex and asked, "Going up?" politely. They glanced at me like I carried airborne venereal disease, didn't reply, and just stood there like two retarded little gargoyles, not even bothering to make space in a lift that could definitely fit more than the 3 of us. Machauhai. You think your lift ah? As I entered the lift, I satisfied myself with the thought that the two warts would probably die, old and unhappy and unloved, in a pile of their own detritus and smelling of old aunty underwear. I didn't even bother to say goodnight to the assholes when I reached my apartment.

There are a whole bunch of them, maybe 6 or more, sharing the apartment next door. They always come back from work dressed in some ugly diaorrhea-coloured yellow jacket, and every single last one of them is as antisocial as the other. If you say hi to them, they stare at you, aghast that you're being polite, as if it were a contagious disease and they would explode into piles of ugly little diaorrhea-coloured flesh if they reciprocated.

Assholes.

The other group stays in the apartment opposite mine. Bunch of students. Herd of students, more like. One of them (who has a fat ass) thinks that she's God's gift to men, judging from the pat-poh look she gave me when we bumped into each other in the corridor. And if there's one thing I despise more than lansi girls, it's ugly lansi girls. She GRIMACED at me in some awful attempt to smile when I gave her a friendly grin. I could hear her mind going "ewww", and I sighed deep inside, disappointed once again at the prevalent "anti-socialism". The same girl once RECOILED when I was getting out of the lift as she was getting in. By then I couldn't give a rat's ass about assholes like her. I just about resisted flipping the finger as I exited.

One fine day, the wind's going to change direction and her face is going to be stuck in that awful grimace forever....... I hope :)

Life. In 8 simple steps

2007-08-08T06:01:00.001+08:00

from here

So sad, yet so true for so many of us.

"Negarakuku"?

2007-08-08T04:36:00.000+08:00

So if any of you haven't seen the "negarakuku" video yet.... BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. It's the funniest shit I've heard in such a long while.... at least, since the "Muar People's Mandarin" video BWAHAHAHAHAH.

You don't know what I'm talking about? Ok ok, go search for 'negarakuku' on Youtube and watch it first, then come back. But only do so if you know Chinese, and some Hokkien.

Done? Don't you think the "negarakuku" song is so catchy you can't help but be infected by it? I typed the phrase in Google and got more than 90 thousand search results, so I'm not surprised if the young(and overwhelmingly Chinese, in my opinion) fans of Ming Zhi are already busy learning the lyrics to the song.

I'm honestly not surprised by the amount of fervour and the semi-indignant passion this song has stirred up among the disenfranchised Chinese youngsters who have listened to it. I've got friends rushing around desperately spreading 3gpp versions of the file on bluetooth like they were paid by the Muar Dude. One of them asked me "EH EH!! HEARD THE NEGARAKUKU SONG OREDI OR NOT?!?!?!" while grabbing my arm, as if he were informing me that it was now raining pink pussies and lubricant.

I couldn't help laughing at his intense, gangster "negara kooo koooooooOOoooo" at the beginning of the song, and the way he bares his feelings, as a regular guy who feels he's being oppressed. Certainly, the backhanded, ignorant racism will raise hackles, but one can't help but feel that it's merely verbal retaliation, like an injured animal lashing out at it's tormentor. The brutally honest approximation of corruption and inefficiencies that we've all had to deal with are so fucking funny though. When he went on about eating kuih and sleeping guards, I laughed so hard that my neighbours sicced the pigs on me(I went all "boleh settle" on them and of course boleh settle lah, Malaysia what..... and if you believe that really happened then sucking on my meat wand will make you really beautiful, serious).

Latest grinds from the rumour mill report that the goverment are going to throw him in prison for sedition or stirring up the old racial/religious firepot blah blah blah, but Bernama, our venerable news agency, begs to differ, saying that the government can't take action because of some technicality.

But all I'm thinking is.... You fugly Muar Dude, you are going to get SO MUCH PUSSY........

Dear bookstores, fuck you.

2007-07-24T02:48:00.000+08:00

If it wasn't so stupid that you want to bash your head against the wall, the recent Harry Potter fiasco could even be considered funny.

For you hermits who still happily read this blog(Thank you!), 2 hypermarket chains have been selling the latest Harry Potter book at RM69.90, when the big bookstores have been pricing it at RM109.90. Naturally they've been a big hit with the fans of the Harry Potter series, causing the books to fly off the shelves (pun unintended) since the launching.

In a move that shouldn't catch any Keynesian economists or anti-trust regulators by surprise, a few major booksellers have ganged up to launch a media blitz of epic proportions, refusing to sell the books "in protest", and whining to the press about "indiscriminate price discounts", etc etc.

There were also unspoken threats hinting of consumer associations and the domestic trade and consumer affairs ministry.

So in case you didn't read the title....

Dear major bookshops,
Fuck you.

Stop whining like dickless pussies. This isn't communist Russia. There's fuck-all you can do if someone decides to sell the book at whatever price they want to. Wanna protest? Who do you think cares? Your customers? the hypermarkets? The publishers?

Nobody has said anything in the scrubbed-clean, censored-edited-spoon-fed-to-Malaysians daily propaganda newspapers, but I think that the two hypermarts (and correct me here if you do marketing for either of the two) - after mining consumer data using their loyalty cards - figured that young adults and parents who would buy the hardcover book are probably the same people who spend a lot of money when they shop for groceries, and decided, in a fast-moving stroke of marketing genius, to use the hugely popular book as a loss-leader to increase sales in their other products. You know, the "hey since I'm here why don't I just buy my groceries here" tactic. I don't know how much is the profit margin on the book, but I'm betting that they aren't losing any money on the RM70 sales price, and if they are, it's probably negligible, in the form of logistics costs.

I think it's bloody genius, honestly. I wouln't have made the connection. And now the big bookstores - as in the cases of most entrenched monopolies - are crying foul, aghast at the possibility that something as egalitarian and basic as a hypermart actually dares to peddle elite wares such as printed literature. So far, I'm immensely glad that the consumer affairs ministry has lauded the move as great for consumers, as they should.

No doubt their management has met with representatives of the government in an attempt to coerce retailers to stay away from selling books. This is a capitalist country, my friends, at least when it comes to retail products(Sarawak gangsters controlling egg prices notwithstanding), and whether you like it or not, books are not an essential good like rice or sugar, and that makes them fair game for everyone, not just booksellers.

Just goes to show what happens when they remain entrenched and stagnant, don't they?

And just in case you still didn't get it....

Dear bookstores,
Fuck you.

Movie Review: Transformers

2007-06-29T05:59:00.000+08:00

Ooooooooops...... Wrong transformer. "MY BAD... (said in digitized robot voice)....." What I meant was this:

................... I'm sorry :) I mean I'm sorry for all you poor, slavering American fan-boys, because I've just watched the Transformers movie(on IMAX, no less), and you still have to wait at least 4 days, and that means we poor 3rd world citizens understand the "my bad" insider joke I made above, while you burger-scarfing wire-tapping fuckers can just kiss Optimus Prime's shiny metal ass.

Pardon my enthusiasm, but I've just watched what I'd consider a really awesome movie. Please note that I'm part of the Transformers generation, and consider my expectations and biases as a fanboy when taking this review into consideration.

I'd go so far as to say that it's the best movie I've watched in 2007. 2 1/2 hours of amazingly authentic visual and sound effects collaborating to recreate every inner child's deepest robot dream on the silver screen. The physics are so believable you'll drop into a trance from the first "transform" scene in the beginning of the movie, and never emerge until the grand finale, still entranced by the clanking, mechanical REALNESS of the Transformers. The last time I was so in awe at the movie theatre was when I watched "Independence Day".

The story is faithful to the original, the humour is funny, and the battle scenes will shock you and take your breath away. And for those who criticised the complex new "Transforms", let's just say that you'll never get tired of watching them transform in the movie, into beautiful-detailed sculptures of functional metal. It's a sight that will make every little boy (and 20- to 30-year old male) spasm with ecstatic rapture everytime it happens. It's almost better..... no, it IS better than sex, especially when they do it in transition, jumping up and magically(with great clanking noises and metal stress sounds) sprouting metal limbs and appendages while in vehicle mode, or when they jump into the air and fly off in the blink of an eye, already a fighter jet with afterburners glowing and making the air shimmer with heat.

*collapses in paroxysms of pure bliss*

Watching the movie, you see the characters of the individual Transformers shine through. They're generally faithful with the personalities, and have even improved the more boring ones. For those of us who followed the original series, you'll love instead of hate the new Bumblebee. The writers cleverly prevented him from talking, and consequently, from irritating us with that eager-beaver psyche. Instead, they've imbued him with humour, courage and a warrior ethic, easily making him the most lovable robot in the film.

But I talk too much. I'm going to watch the film again soon, if for nothing else than to hear the groaning, straining, creaking, whirring, sliding, clanking metal when even the puniest of them transform. They even have a good enough sense of humour to insert half of the original "chu chu chi chi CHIT" transforming sound into one of the scenes with Bumblebee. It just warms the heart, I tell you.

And when one of the autobots came riding in to save the day...... it almost brought a tear to my eye. Serious.

So, 9 out of 10.

9? Only 9, you ask? When I've been waxing so lyrical that both Shakespeare and Tupac are turning in their graves, worried about their linguistic immortality?

Yes. Only 9, because Optimus Prime has fucking LIPS. That's just wrong man. That's so fucking wrong. He looks emasculated - like some Sensitive New Age Gaybot - to Megatron's Evil Tyrant, complete with the thorny, take-no-prisoners, snarling visage.

Secondly, no Dinobots and Constructicons. So only 9.

If you're not a fanboy, go watch it, you'll have real fun. If you ARE a fanboy, you'll love it anyway, but don't puke in nausea when you see the lips.

"Malaysia Boleh!" or how to check if you're a jaded, cynical Malaysian!

2007-06-13T05:27:00.000+08:00

Kenapa Malaysia Boleh?

Sometimes you're driving, and then suddenly you find yourself parked by the side of the road, sighing and pulling out your wallet.....

"Encik, boleh settle ka?"

"BOLEHHH!!!! Mau macamana settle?"

Stop giggling, you fuckers. You know exactly what I'm talking about hehe :)) And for all of you that don't, study hard and stop visiting bad websites like this! You're not old enough to be a cynical Malaysian!

Cheers!

Drunk and Co-ordinated

2007-05-26T02:48:00.000+08:00

Who the hell plays basketball at midnight until 2AM in the morning everyday? The mad fuckers at Puchong, that's who.

Who gets fed-up of the waning challenge at USJ20 and decides to join the Midnight Basketball Borg? Slim Baby, that's who.

Who resisted the Basketball Borg the best he could but gave up in the end and got addicted as well? Me.

Who got totally smashed at a friend's birthday party on a Friday night......... but still rushed off to Puchong at 12.30 to catch the last few pickup games until 2 in the morning?

...............................*paiseh*..............................

It was surreal, playing basketball while drunk... Kinda like watching a first-person video of someone running and jumping. My feet were moving but I couldn't get any feedback at all.

Just do it, indeed. If it doesn't work, you get swatted to the floor by the giant center. Doesn't hurt a whit since you're already drunk as nails. You get up smiling and continue to play. Reverse layups even work, because they're already tired and your muscle memory tells your legs how to move. All instinct, no analysis. I can't keep count of the number of non-standard crap passes I made.

And now, at 3 in the morning...... let's go yumcha.

Crazy.

Malaytalian Morons

2007-05-13T02:11:00.000+08:00

Please forgive me if you notice that I frequently harbour malicious derision, frustration and abject pity for every dumb soul that owns a Mykad. As a Malaysian myself, that's what makes it all the more painful and irritating.

You're all morons - Indefatigable , stubbornly under-achieving, close-minded, sycophantic, foreign-worshipping Morons.

Take for example the huge number of morons who support Italy in the World Cup. "Oh Totti blahblahblah", "Azurri rule!""Viva La Italia!" It reminds me of the black woman who applied to join the Ku Klux Klan...FYI you fools, along with Spain, Italy is the most racist country in the world. You may think that everything Italian is exotic, but it's a country that's corrupt, economically weak, and racist beyond compare.

I'll forgive you for not making noise about the abject state of Malaysian football everytime there's a big international tournament, but the sheer fanaticism of Malay-talian football fans is beyond compare. You're not Italian, you idiots, you're Malaysian. You're brown-skinned(and slitty-eyed, for all you nitpickers who are going to shout "Corsica!" and "Sicily"). That means you'd be discriminated against if you go to Italy. Fascism is ingrained in their culture and their attitudes. Is there a black player in the squad? Has there ever been? I rest my case.

You're all apathetic, uninterested, self-serving bastards. How many among you don't litter out your car window? How many of you are considerate enough to use your turn signals on the road? All the small signs lead to a bigger malady, that of cultural starvation. I'm Malaysian, but what stands me in good stead when I'm overseas isn't the confidence that my country could kick your country's ass(like the Americans), or the fact that I'm born a patriot, serving my country as it has served me(Japan, Israel)......... it's my own personality and knowledge that does it, and it's not reflective of my nation at all.

In fact, if I were to represent my country's typical citizen, I would probably be an insecure, ignorant, uneducated(despite going to university) racist moron who speaks horrendous English and idolizes the White Man while selfishly blaming others for his lot in life. Oh oh, and I would also be proud that I'm "too busy to read", and I'll be the stingiest guy of the lot because my currency is so small and I use all my salary to pay off my car loan for a "national car" that is famous for malfunctioning electric windows.

FYI, you smug-looking Italy and England lovers, white isn't superior, and even if it was, loving the white man doesn't make you white. Sohai.

The Idiots Guide to Choosing a Girlfriend

2007-04-25T02:18:00.000+08:00

*Note, this is not an article on how to FIND a girlfriend, merely how to CHOOSE one.
**Also, this article assumes that you are interested in a serious girlfriend, with all its attendant pros and cons. In light of these, the choosing process outlined is intended to deliver you minimum headache and maximum fun in the long run.

To all the long-suffering men of this world, I share this with you in the spirit of brotherhood, in the hopes that we may all have full and loving relationships instead of angst and heartbreak, that we can be proud of our women, and that our women will be proud of us. Here then, is how you choose a proper girlfriend:

Step 1. Make sure she's not crazy.

I'm not fucking joking dude. This is the be-all and end-all of relationship tips. Your girlfriend can have a lame personality, bad breath etc etc...... but she MUST NOT be crazy. I'm not talking about Oprah-liking-crazy........ but CRAZY-crazy like having violent tendencies, or paranoia so acute she calls you 10 times a day to ask "where are you?" or threatening to kill herself....that kind of crazy. It doesn't matter how sizzling-hot she is(and trust me, there ARE crazy hot girls), if you value your balls, your sanity, and don't like being stalked or having someone put Siamese love-spells on you, KEEP AWAY.

Step 2. Don't choose a gold-digger.......

I know it sounds like basic knowledge, but most guys(including me) usually don't think with the big head when they first meet a hot woman, especially if she gives them attention. The gold-digger will ask you what you do, how much you earn, how long until you make partner/general manager etc etc. and hints that she "loves receiving presents". Whore - definition: someone who provides sexual services for payment in cash or in kind(i.e. handbags, holidays to Bali etc).

Step 3. ........or a jealous woman

A jealous woman is an insecure woman, and she will cause you emotional trauma. It's also a side-effect that jealous women are usually not the prettiest ones. On the other hand, a good girlfriend is someone smart enough to choose a good man, and confident enough with her own attractiveness that she doesn't need to be jealous. And for you(or me at least), smart, confident, and attractive are verrrrrrrrry nice traits to have in a girlfriend. *note: this same woman, while not the jealous type, may illogically want you to demonstrate that you're a teeny-weeny bit possessive over her, in order to be reassured that you love her. So the next time she's talking with some good-looking guy, just ask her "Who's that guy?" She'll be secretly delighted.

Also, be observant, you might realise that the Gold-digger and the Jealous Woman are very often the same person. The selfish "me-first" urge in these women manifests itself in these two distinct but related personality traits: hunting for a "good catch", and then ferociously guarding their "prize" from the clutches of other women. And you don't want to feel like a wild boar or a salmon fish, do you?

Step 4, Ask yourself,"if I'm in deep trouble, what would she do?"

I'm talking deeEEEEEEEEEEEEEP trouble, like if you were kidnapped, or if you crashed your car and she's unhurt but you're unconscious and bleeding badly. WHAT WOULD SHE DO? Basically you want a girl who can take care of things, not someone who will sit there and cry while you bleed to death in the accident. I could list out the values needed in such a girl -streetwise, resourceful, calm-headed, brave, loyal etc etc - but these values won't affect you much until you really really need them. And understand this: The one time you will really NEED your girlfriend is when you're in deep shit, even if just for emotional support. If she's the sort that ups and runs the moment she learns you're bankrupt, then you might wanna look elsewhere. However, if you smile after answering yourself this question, congratulations.

I know that it's hard to resist the sweet-looking damsels in distress and the urge to protect and "cherish"(*vomit*) them - especially for all you macho lunkheads and you, Manager Chow- but if you have to, why not choose someone who defers to you mostly, but whom you know has your back when the going gets tough? Think Anwar Ibrahim's wife and you've got the idea.

Step 5, choose someone who will make a good mother for your children.

Assuming it goes that far(which is possible in a serious relationship), don't fuck it up! Hehe. Seriously though, the traits that would make a good mother are the traits you want in a girlfriend too. You want beautiful children? Then she can't be the bad-looking parent can she? Especially since you've dominated that position, you ugly fucker(yes, Erlend, I'm talking to you LOL); A good mother can cook (yes girls, the old adage about going through a man's stomach are largely true); A good mother is educated so that she can educate her children, and so on and so forth. Ah think about it yourselves. I'm lazy to elaborate. If you're so stupid you can't imagine, then I hope you don't breed.

Step 6, choose a happy girl

Simply because a happy girl probably doesn't have issues that need fixing(jealousy, abandonment, insecurity, physical abuse, the list goes on.......). Either that, or she just escaped from the nuthouse(please see step 1 in this case)

For some reason, most people can't stand a happy person. Have you noticed how people go,"What the hell are you smiling about?" when you're having a good day? Well, I don't know about you, but I like being happy. Basically, a happy girl makes you happy, and who doesn't want to be happy?

Step 7, can she be your friend?

Every serious relationship should begin on a steaming-hot, sizzling, passionate, amazing-sex, knee-weakening-kisses note. Why? Cause it's fun lah! Abuthen? Of course, you can run your relationship in this mode forever.....if you can sustain it forever. I'm of the opinion that it's impossible because humans naturally take things for granted. Other than being your lover, your girlfriend has to be one of your best friends, because after the initial passion has worn off, you should be left with friendship and a very comfortable intimacy. If you can't be friends, then she can't be your girlfriend.

Lastly, separate your "deal-breakers" from your "fixables"

There are some things that are absolutely unacceptable in a woman("deal-breaker"), while others, though undesirable, can be tolerated provided that there's an overriding positive trait to balance it("fixable"). For instance, a woman who's kind enough to volunteer at the local SPCA would push the fact that she idolizes Oprah into insignificance; Contrarily, a woman who smokes crack cocaine is a definite no-no, even if she looks like a supermodel.

This is largely up to the preference of the individual. Some people might be utterly revulsed by a simple thing such as a woman having untrimmed armpit hair, while others might be able to tolerate a potential deal-breaker such as a woman who drinks heavily or digs her nose in public. So separate your "fixables" from your "hell-no!-No-fucking-way!!!" so that the next time there's a dilemma(supermodel genius who snores like fucking thunder), you'll know what to do.

Other than that, everything else is a personal choice. Looks, brains, personality, sense of humour, personality, level of education...... all that is up to you. Some guys might not bother about looks, or prefer a quiet girl rather than a party-animal, or really dig intelligent women(like me). That's a personal choice.

So follow the steps before you follow your heart, and you might save a helluva lot of heart- and headache down the road. Have fun!

Fondles Leia muahaahahahahaha.....

2007-04-19T01:27:00.000+08:00

6 weird things about me

2007-04-15T03:28:00.000+08:00

Good friend Ah Lau has tagged me. So I (apparently) have to tell you embarrassing things about me...... (or else what? The Meme Police are going to arrest me? Ah well it's all in good fun), so here goes:

1. My nose is bent prominently to the left. The official excuse is that I ate ball biscuit(吃波饼)while playing basketball.

2. Hair on my body grows in weird places, like only the top of my thighs and the outside of my calves.

3. I can't breathe if someone has a strong air freshener in the car. My respiratory system simply refuses to work at the first whiff of ambi-pur and I'm left gasping like a fish until I wind down the window for outside air.

4. I have no phobia of snakes(so long as they're not poisonous) or rats or even large insects like beetles or monster butterflies, but I harbour an inordinate amount of loathing for cockroaches(kachatophobia). Filthy filthy bastards.

5. My first memories start around the age of 1 and I can still remember details, verifiable by my mother.

6. I can swallow liquids with my mouth open. (TA-DAAAA!!! Finally something interesting huh!)

I tag Elaine and April Groupie.

updated "and I'm like...... and she's like......."

2007-04-11T15:57:00.000+08:00

......and you're like a fool, that's what you're like.

Whatever happened to English? How did a pronoun followed by "like" replace "he/she said"?

It's annoying at best; And for people who are sticklers for speaking proper English, it's as soothing to the ears as grating your nails on a chalkboard. It's even worse for multi-lingual Malaysians, who pick up new languages and nuances in dialect easily. The assimilation into the Borg happens, and before you know it, you're talking like Jessica and Paris.

How in the world did American teenage bimbo talk become an accepted way of communication? I know great writers and great articulators of words who spout "i'm like she's like........" the moment they're with their friends! Somehow it became cool to talk that way, even when you know many words with more than 5 syllables. It's usually an indicator of youth(and teenage sluttiness), but my good friend and neighbour from the show(who's admittedly young at heart) talks like that, and he just turned 30.... so there goes my theory.

God bless America. Without you, how would we find the inspiration to talk stupid?

Goldilocks and the 3 bears, or "How to catch a movie for only RM3.33"

2007-03-09T05:05:00.000+08:00

One fine day, there were 3 tall guys, all at least 6 ft. in height. They were like the 3 bears in the Goldilocks story - you know, Large, Medium, and Small- One weighed close to 100 kgs(The large one, we'll call him "Slim Baby"), one was 72 kgs (medium, let's call him "Medium"), and the last was a piffling 60 kgs despite being the tallest among the three (let's call him "skinny auditor boy").

So the three bears decided to catch a long anticipated movie that just opened that day, one inspired by a Frank Miller graphic novel about Spartans and some bullying Persians. As was with all plans that came to fruition with Slim Baby(the large one) and Medium around, it was a spur of the moment decision, made after basketball, like this:

"Eh wanna watch XXX movie ah?"
"Ok ok."
"Eh you leh? Wanna watch XXX movie ah?"
"Ok ok."
"Ok later I go buy ticket."

Turns out that the movie about some fucking Spartans was so bloody popular that we... I mean the 3 bears....... went to their regular empty cinema where it was practically assured that we could just waltz in and buy a movie ticket.... only to see the sign "sold out for *Spartan movie*"

Fuck.

So the 3 bears marched their ass down to another movie theatre, fairly confident that tickets were available since the next showtime was at midnight and it was a weeknight. To their disappointment and disbelief, the only seats available were on the second row.

So as bears do, they decided to forage for food before returning half an hour before midnight in the hope that they could buy the unclaimed reserved tickets. Slim Baby and Medium were constantly trying to make each other fat, with Medium being much more succesful than the 100kg Slim Baby. Conversation went like this:

SlimBaby: Wanna eat what? (Come let's go eat you bastard. I don't believe I won't make you fat)
Medium: Anything lah (Bastard. Trying to make me fat while you slim down? You don't know I'm on a secret diet)
SlimBaby: (in a sly I-dare-you-to tone) KFC lah!
Medium: Come lah! You think I scared ah? I'll match however many pieces you eat? So we order bucket lah ok? You eat 5 I eat 4.
SlimBaby: Tiiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..... now what time already? KFC!?!??!?!
Medium: Scared ah? You are the one that say one!!!
Slim Baby: Come lah!
Medium: Come lah!

All the while Skinny Auditor Bear was just shaking his head and laughing in amusement at the psychological games the other two were playing just to get each other fat.

(Oh, and they really went to get KFC at 11pm at night. Burp. Medium actually tapau-ed KFC next door to the mamak and ordered a mi goreng and an oily omelette just to irritate the overweight Slim Baby)

After a BMI- and cholesterol-boosting supper at the mamak, they marched back to the cinema, where Slim Baby and Skinny Auditor Boy proceeded to harass the management of the theatre to release the unclaimed tickets early (it was more than half an hour before the movie started). After alternately charming, teasing, cajoling, and harassing the ticket seller, who was so flustered he called his manager, the 2 bears managed to get a WONDERFUL spot while the crowds that were waiting for the half-hour mark gave them all dirty looks.

And this is what happened next: Slim Baby went to the toilet inside the cinema. And in order to do that, the ushers would hold your ticket while you used the loo, to make sure you came back out. When he came out, however, the ushers gave him back another 2 extra tickets in addition to the 3 that he had bought, so he now had 5.

Not comprehending what was really happening, he just said "huh?" and walked back to the other 2 bears with an uncomprehending, confused look on his face.

"Ei see see. They give me another 2 tickets woh."
"What two tickets?"
"For the same movie lah!"
"hah? So we got 5 tickets? Same showtime ah?"
"yaya same cinema everything."

So what do you do if you got 2 extra tickets? Sell it right? So Medium took it back to the box office and told the ticket guy that Slim Baby had harassed earlier to sell the tickets for him.

When Medium walked back to Slim Baby and Skinny Auditor Boy, he saw the two of them leaning against the wall, staring intently at the ushers at the entrance to the theatres, who were deep in argument with a guy who was turning beet in the face, gesturing animatedly and by the looks of it, very angrily while the ushers avoided eye contact while giving nervous smiles and I-don't-know shrugs.

"Oh diu loh diu loh.... Got ppl asking back for the ticket already sure," Slim Baby muttered under his breath while sweating profusely. Skinny Auditor Boy was still laughing. Just then, the guy's lady friend joined him(probably from the loo too) and proceeded to harangue the ushers together. The couple had really really black faces and the guy looked like he was ready to slap someone.

"Oh diu loh diu loh diu loh diu loh......" Slim baby chanted repeatedly under his breath.
"Aiyah I go take back the ticket lah." Medium said.

So Medium went back to the box office to take back the tickets so he could return them to the couple, but before he could say anything, the ticket guy put 2 RM10 notes into his hand..... the tickets had been sold. Diu loh!

Medium walked back to the other two bears with a tragicomic expression on his face, and the worried Slim Baby asked,"So how?"

In reply, Medium opened Slim Baby's palm and slapped 2 red paper notes into his hand.

"HUH?!?!?!?!? Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuuu loh!!!!! Sell already ah?!?!" Slim Baby shouted as a panicked expression appeared and the veins on his head started to swell. Medium and Skinny Auditor Boy burst out into laughter. People around the 3 bears were starting to give them weird looks.

Meanwhile the couple were close to hysterics. The 2 tickets were excellent seats, in the last row of the cinema in a corner, where they could make out to their hearts' content without disturbance. The guy was baring his teeth at the usher, while the woman was close to tears. It wouldn't have been hard to guess that he bought the ticket days in advance to get such good seats, waiting patiently day by day until the movie opened. For all we know she was a new target that he was operating on.

Tough luck Johnny boy. Medium and Skinny were in stitches, alternately laughing at poor Slim Baby( and his prickly conscience and watching him think aloud how to avoid the usher later since the 3 bears were all tall, and he was also "not slim", making him doubly recognisable when we went in), and then at the tragic couple who were almost jumping up and down now in abject frustration. We could only imagine the threats of lawsuits that were being hurled at the ushers.

Slim Baby was sweating bullets now. Literally. Skinny helped him sweat more.

Skinny: Eh you want my cap ah? In case they stop you and ask for their tickets back."
SlimBaby: Noneed noneed. Aiyoh........ sien ah!! Why like that wan!!!!"
Skinny + Medium: *burst out into uncontrolled laughter*

In the end, the 3 bears managed to avoid the usher by squeezing past with the crowd, but as they walked through to the cinema, a bitter aftertaste prompted Medium to say,"Damn that was fucked up. He probably bought those tickets a long time ago man. Fuck. Destroy his evening wei. Dirty money man. I don't wanna have anything to do with it."

The evil slim baby replied laconically, since he had already avoided the feared confrontation with the usher,"Haiya go back home pok yeh(fuck) lah. Early evening loh...."

Damn..... Slim Baby, you better give that 20 bucks to some orphanage. I'm just waiting for karma to strike.

Phew.... but still a little disappointed

2007-03-07T02:56:00.000+08:00

Farty

2007-02-07T03:01:00.001+08:00

I'm so fucking flatulent tonight that I probably contributed to global warming. I'm so flatulent that Shell tried to gain the rights to my "natural gas" fields. I'm so flatulent that my ass-cheeks are now permanently blown apart. I'm so flatulent that when I sit down, my friends think I'm a yogi because I float on a cushion of stinky acrid garlic-tinged air every few seconds. I'm so flatulent tonight that I could probably use the shorts I'm wearing tonight in place of chloroform to kidnap people. I'm so flatulent that the makan-place I visited tonight probably lost all it's customers. I'm so flatulent that the doors of my apartment are bulging outwards. I'm so flatulent that my blanket is now brown-coloured, I'm so flatulent that flies have gathered around me and then died in the thousands from the stench. I'm so flatulent that my neighbours are probably coughing in their sleep, dreaming of garlic. I'm so flatulent that they should hire me to fill balloons.

Mahai. What the fuck is happening to me?!?!?!

Espresso? Cappucino? Affogato? No Problemo....

2007-02-06T03:55:00.000+08:00

Oooh.... It's thick and long and black!

yay!! Our very own, very cool-looking....... espresso machine!! Woohoo! For those of you who don't know me personally, my family lives in an oil palm plantation.

Notice how the last sentence conjures up images of impoverishment, hard labour, lack of access to basic healthcare, agriculture and its attendant connotations, 3rd-world country, filth, no running water etc. etc?

Au contraire!

Despite what you might imagine, we have all the basic accoutrements of a modern 21st-century family. There's electricity, cleeeeaaaaaannnn piped water(as opposed to Kuala Lumpur, which should really be renamed Air Lumpur), and the kitchen has 2 fridges, an industrial-sized deep freezer, a top-of-the-range fruit juicer(can masuk whole apples wan!!!), hi-fi (yes in the kitchen), electric non-stick griddle, sandwich maker, dish dryer, a monster-sized microwave, electric water boiler, blenders, mixers, toaster oven..... and finally, a sleek, chic, fantastic espresso machine!!

Here are another two cock-looking pictures for your delectation:

I won't show you a picture of this wonderful machine in it's entirety, but trust me, it's fucking cool. After admiring it's sleek lines over and over and over, I managed to divert some energy from my eyes to my limbs and make some awesome coffee.

At the risk of sounding like an asshole, here's a secret that I'm going to tell you: NO LOCAL COFFEE can even dream of touching espresso in terms of quality. NONE. The secret is pressure, heat, and the quality of the coffee beans. Your local coffee dude could never do that with a muslin filter, inferior robusta beans, and condensed milk.

Another secret: I make better espresso than your local Starbucks. No small statement, considering the fact that the baristas at Starbucks do this for a living, while all I do is fuck around and pretend that I'm an expert in coffea arabica and bandy about sexy-sounding Italian words. Hehe:)..................... NOT! Actually it's because I have all the time in the world to make sure everything's perfect, while they have to shout "2 venti mo...kuh LAH-TEHHHH"in some weird sing-song accent and crash about making coffee and steaming milk for a million people at once. Mostly it's because I have good coffee beans, and a very very good machine. How do I know I make better coffee? Because I went to Starbucks with my dad, and my dad later went with my mom, and we all agreed that the coffee we made at home was much more flavorful and aromatic.

In the beginning my mom jammed up the poor machine with a too-finely-ground Ugandan coffee that a friend gave her, and we had to clean it out properly before using the espresso blend that my dad and I got. Long before this I was geeking out big time on the forums and message boards, finding out all about espresso: The beans, coffee geography, the ideal temperature and pressure for different blends, roasting, grinding, storing, tamping, cleaning, extracting, plus the meanings of all the lansi-sounding Italian words: espresso, affogato, cappucino, latte, doppio, americano, ristretto, crema, niama........ so I had something of a headstart when it was time to "pull my first shot". To my absolute bloody surprise, the first double shot I pulled turned out to be so rich in crema(the froth on top that denotes "solid", "bagus punya" espresso) that my dad and I were grinning from ear-to-ear. It was so good that I downed it straight like my dad did, without diluting it with any milk or water, amazed and finally understanding what the essence of coffee was. Before this, every experience with espresso was a confused rebellion by my taste-buds at the attack of concentrated bitterness.

After that I spent every chance I could to make coffee for my folks. "Pa, want coffee?" "Mummy want coffee?" and went through with the elaborate rituals that were at times even more pleasurable and tactile than the actual drinking. Heating up the machine, running the beautiful steel cups with hot water, opening the aluminium bag to whiff the intense coffee aroma, measuring out a perfect dose of coffee beans, tamping it into an organised pancake, feeling the thud as I locked the heavy portable filter solidly into its gasket, and only then turning the knob to hear the pump buzz in a low frequency hum, tense with expectation as the first few drops of chocolate gold dripped into the cups, slowly increasing into a thick, syrupy stream of concentrated coffee essence that flowed for exactly 20 seconds before I switched it off.

It was so technical! So fucking fun! Anyway see the pictures below as I make affogato(coffee with ice cream)

---------->

A double scoop of coffee into the filter........................... becomes a gorgeous cup of crema-topped espresso

(above)

Meanwhile...........

------>

The giant ice cream tub is broken out and a single scoop of rich vanilla is plopped into a giant mug
(above)

pour coffee into giant mug and..........

........Affogato!!!

The 10 Best Smells in the World!!

2007-01-29T04:57:00.000+08:00

1. Pine. Otherwise known as the Ikea smell. The smell of Scandinavia. That strong, heady wood smell reminds me of snow and peace and warmth and adventure and good friends and coziness.
2. Burnt rubber (Caused by "enthusiastic" driving). Nothing sums up the elation of slipping/sliding through the Paloh-Yong Peng road or hitting apex after apex at the track than the smell of burnt rubber and motor oil when you stop at the gas station afterwards, accompanied by the ticking sound of your radiator cooling down.
3. New clothes. You wanna keep that smell forever, until you have....
4. Fresh laundry! The hot, just-in-from-the-sun smell of Breeze, Fab, Dynamo....
5. New leather furniture. Leather couch, leather car seats, it doesn't matter. It just reeks opulence if it's new. Only applies to furniture though, in case you wanna go sniffing shoes or jackets (or my vomit-inducing, sweaty boxing gloves).
6. Stir-fried prawns. That smell of umami forces you to drool against your will.
7. Mummy's stewed pork ribs. Slurrrrrrrrrrp. Gulp.....
8. Freshly ground Coffee. You know that Starbucks smell? Imagine stuffing your head into a bag containing freshly ground coffee, taking a huge whiff, and getting that smell a hundred times over. It's so fragrant, so aromatic, so heady that every cell in your brain feels like its bursting to form a cloud of pure coffee mist. I wonder why drug addicts don't sniff coffee... (oh they do actually, they're called coffee addicts)
9. That sweet citrus mist that appears when you open a mandarin orange.
10. Freshly mown grass. My sense of love and security and family comes from that familiar childhood scent.

That's my list. What's yours? :)

Are you a food bully?

2007-01-24T02:47:00.000+08:00

Yes you are. Most of us are. The signs are especially prevalent if:

1. You're from Kepong/Ipoh/Penang. All places with incredibly good food.
2. You call yourself a 食家 chinese: shi2 jia1, meaning gourmet or epicure.
3. You teach home science(Ekonomi Rumah Tangga) in secondary school, which involves a lot of food science and cooking, making you a naturally good cook.
4. You are a control freak.

Have you ever felt like tearing your hair out when you see your children happily stuffing their pieholes with Big Macs, but turn up their noses at the burger you made with fresh ground chuck, polenta, real cheddar, romaine lettuce, capers, and freshly baked rye bread?

Do you know that almost uncontrollable urge to scream when your boyfriend drowns your beautifully made filet mignon/braised cod fillet in tomato ketchup? What about that time when you brought your girlfriend to the Lemon Garden Cafe at Shangri-La for high tea, where you suddenly caught sight of her gagging and making a disgusted face when you slurped down the gorgeous, fresh, ice-cold Foveaux Strait Oysters, telling you that she'd rather die than eat raw shellfish?

I think I'm a food bully, albeit a mellow one who doesn't push too hard when someone I know commits a culinary faux pas. I couldn't understand my sister when she decided out of the blue to stop eating pork: that tender, heavenly pink meat that gives you cholesterol even as it delights your tastebuds. I was having dinner with my groupie at Pho Hoa, The Curve yesterday. FYI, Pho Hoa is a place that serves Vietnamese beef noodles in a broth that's flavourful beyond description. It didn't bother me that April is a carnivore(I'm not joking, I actually think she might cry or assault you if you tried to make her put something green in her mouth), I just thought that it was quirky and kinda funny, especially when she told stories about her ex- boyfriend's mother making blended veggie soup and wheatgrass WUAHAHHAAHHAHA. Anyway, when April made her choice of having "meatballs and steak" with her noodles, I succeeded in not shooting my brains out in frustration, but failed miserably in gently trying to steer her towards the more adventurous choices of flank, brisket and tripe. Luckily my social instincts kicked in when she said with a cheeky expression that she would just try mine. I let it drop at that, instead of giving her a flying kick across the table, then clambering on top while she was dazed and punching her pretty face, all the while repeating "Meatball........ *punch*...... is...*punch*..... *PANT PANT*........ NOT MEAT...*roundhouse punch*... now order the brisket dammit!!!!!"

It's a protracted dilemma that makes you feel both guilty (at being such a control freak, cause it's none of your god-damned business) and angry(What the fuck? Putting ice in the wine?!??! ARRRRRGHHHH!!!!). Intellectually, you know it's just a matter of taste, but emotionally, you feel that food is one of the great hedonistic pleasures in life, ostensibly interchangeable with sex, as has been documented in so much literature and the hentai practice of eating sushi off a naked girl.

It feels like sacrilege when you see someone throwing out all the siham(cockles) in char kuay teow, or when someone drowns their shark's fin soup with vinegar until it's all black-coloured, or when the Japanese eat EVERYTHING - including steak and fish-and-chips - with rice. When I visited Takamatsu - the Udon capital of Japan - as a teenager, everyone I ate with told me that it was rude when I didn't slurp my noodles (Something about not enjoying the food or disrespecting the table). They would mime slurping the udon when I ate, with raised eyebrows and rapid-fire Japanese. The language was alien, but the tone was not: Hey boy! Suck your udon and make noise or else! So of course I had enormous fun slurping loudly like a garrulous vacuum-powered monster while getting approving smiles and nods, where all I would have received at home was a backhanded slap for such atrocious table manners. Or my personal favourite, when someone eats a dish of crab not by fiddling and coaxing out the succulent white flesh, but by putting the entire body into their mouth and chewing confusedly for a while, then spitting out the entire uneaten mangled mess of shell and flesh into a wasted pile onto the red chinese-shop tablecloth.

Sometimes, you even get fucked-up food bullies. They're something like the "religious scholars" of the corrupted backwater 3rd-world country located between Singapore and Thailand, implacably arrogant and self righteous when they label people jahil(ignorant) and biadab(uncouth) when they're the ones unenlightened. For example, meet the Singaporean who sneers at you because you don't mix tomato sauce with your konlow mee. LOL. Or how about the moron who says that espresso - that perfectly calibrated shot of coffee essence made mostly with the superior Arabica bean - is "nonsense", refusing even to try it, insisting instead that "NOTHING, AND I MEAN NOTHING, BOY...." will ever compare to the local (robusta) coffee he sips at the Hainanese coffeeshop around the corner. Jahil, indeed.

My brother Erlend is a contender for Champion Food Bully. When he visited me, char koay teow, fishball noodles, radish cake(loh bak kou), all the Malay kuihs, roti canai, curry mee, prawn mee - practically all the food that we were proud of - was dismissed summarily with the verdict,"It's all filler! It doesn't make me full! Noodles noodles noodles! It's all 'empty'! Give me some proper food! I'm a viking! I need meat!" He eventually came around to enjoying bak kut teh and some, if not all, our national dishes where he almost made me cry before. Of course, we could put it down to his having superior Scandinavian tastebuds (being the angmoh-loving morons that we are), but his was a country that had as national foods: rice porridge(hot tasteless lumpy curds served with butter, sugar and cinnamon *faint*), lamb and cabbage stew, potato dumplings, and giant fishballs. Plus, they eat roast meat with JAM. I kid you not.

*Please don't post any disparaging comments about the vikings. I happen to know an incredibly hot, drop-dead super-gorgeous Norwegian girl who reads this blog(and probably shouldn't *wink wink*) and whom I'm trying to convince to visit. Also, my brother has been working out a lot, and he might choose to take out his frustration on me for your comments :D

So the next time you feel the urge to tell your brother to lay off the soya sauce, or tell your dad that his porridge doesn't need an entire handful of preserved veggies, or sneer at your friend who eats banana leaf rice with cutlery instead of his hands, or laugh at the feller who hates runny egg yolks..... Pause, take a deep breath, and remember that in Japan, you get scolded for not slurping your noodles like a turbo-powered vacuum cleaner, neh?

Balm for My Bored Pirate Soul

2007-01-18T02:18:00.000+08:00

What's with the dearth of good programming over the New Year season? What the fuck is all that about? For some unfathomable reason (whoever knows please explain), great TV shows have this break over the holiday period, anywhere from Oct/Nov/Dec to January.

And it includes ALL my favourite shows: Prison Break, Nip/Tuck, Top Gear, Fifth Gear, Entourage, Smallville, South Park, Weeds (motherfucker! I AM a TV addict, albeit one without a TV *wink wink*)......

...... until I discovered this gem: Heroes.

If you want details, it's about people with powers. But their lives are all complex and human, and the human dramas take precedence over their superpowers, which are shown only rarely, and are breathtakingly believable, unlike the OTHER superhero-themed TV series, which is going from implausible to downright hilarious in its undisciplined depictions of Clark Kent huffing and puffing away storm clouds and story arcs which have me screaming"DEUS EX MACHINA" everytime they switch the semi-incestous relationship between Clark, Lex and Lana on and off.

Heroes is aired in comic book style too, with a few mini story-arcs linked together to form an overarching plot. It's a very realistic story, and because of the tight writing, it's comparable to Prison Break in it's tension and realism.

So if you've run out of good shows to watch, find one of your geeky friends who download bucketfuls of TV series and ask them to get it for you. Watch the pilot episode and decide for yourself. I bet that you'll kick yourself later, because it's only until episode 11, and you have to wait till the next week for the following episode.

BTW, watch out for Hiro Nakamura. He's my favourite character. He's incorrigibly irritating in the beginning, but becomes more and more adorable as the episodes go by... maybe he reminds me of how nice it was to be an all-out nerd.

"Beastie, more like."

2007-01-02T00:19:00.000+08:00

Girls, please don't do the following, because it makes you look like absolute morons:

1. "and i'm like..... and she's like.......... and then they're like....."
Please look up the meaning of "like" in any available dictionary. The use of a pronoun followed by "like" is NOT proscribed as proper usage of the word in ANY context. You would think a gender that blabbers non-stop would be proficient in basic grammar.

2. "Bestie"
What the fuck! This awful word word has been popping up all over the place recently. If you're a moron girl, you go,"This girl is my BESTIE!" (Beastie, more like, unless "bestie" stands for "best in show", cause she sure is a real dog). Tiu....... Just because you affectionately call your dog "doggy", your best friend is now "bestie"? Once, I was so bored I picked up one of my sister's pink feminazi magazines - I dunno, cleo or seventeen or something - and I caught sight of the word used in the publication! You think it's cute? Just because she used to suck your mum's other breast when you were kids doesn't give you the right to annoy the whole world. Please realise the fact that the creative and situationally proper use of English(read bigoted, racist, bullying, discriminatory) - like calling a dark-skinned friend Blackie, or a flatulent friend Farty - is good, while adding on a "-ey" or "-ie" suffix to a word just to make it "cute" is not. It just exhibits how much empty space there is between your skull.

3. Posing like porn stars everytime you and your "bestie" take a picture....
......which is every single moment you're together: At the mall, eating lunch, in the restroom, at the club(ESPECIALLY at the club). If someone challenged me to name one disadvantage of camera phones and the easy proliferation of digicams, this would be it. When girls began to pout, arch their backs and squeeze their boobs together back in 2004, men everywhere secretly rejoiced, believing that the next sexual revolution was here, that Malaysian girls had finally begun to shed their (honestly self-limiting) prudish skins in favour of a more open and happy disposition. Little did we dumb males realise that this behaviour was merely an evolution of the traditional "chinese girl ADD" mode, because the sex-kitten persona almost never extended beyond the reach of the lens, serving only to shamelessly attract as much attention as possible(in clubs) and to fuel the angst-ridden fantasies of undersexed teenage boys everywhere(on Friendster), who will then proceed to send them a message saying "hi. You lookd sexy. Mind friends?" The girls will then complain to me, saying that nerdy boys are harassing them, earning a huge kick in the ass from me. You don't want them to message you then why you post the picture? Wear a burqa lah. Moron.

Riddle me this.......

2006-12-25T16:02:00.000+08:00

I get myself into situations. Effortlessly.

It's Christmas Day.

I'm in a Taiwanese cafe in Subang.

With my groupie and her friend.

Riddle me this - an excerpt from the conversation at our table-:

"..... what's wrong with making black vaginas?!?........"

The truth is out there.

Yeah yeah... when pigs climb trees......

2006-12-18T06:27:00.000+08:00

Recently I had the dubious pleasure of meeting a dyed-in-the-wool feminazi with fairy-tale-princess fantasies. Without delving too deeply into details, let's just say that previously, I had ample reason to look forward to meeting her(as I had reason to believe that she was someone who had an Intellect), and expected much more than have my hopes rudely and bluntly dashed.

My hopes of matching wits and engaging in intelligent discourse with a calm, supremely intelligent person were dashed the moment I met her (Just goes to show that nothing counts until you really know someone). This woman was the typical feminazi archetype: She was "not pretty" *cough-cough*, rude and standoffish, had loud, aggresive opinions about anyone and anything, and defended her views with the typical feminazi "all-men-are-sexist" injurious tone, all the while expounding her frankly ludicrous opinions with "I don't about you lah, but I do it like this...."No, moron. You are not the world's foremost expert on life. In fact, you need a huge helping of slap-you-silly, if not thousands of hours of therapy.

I'll refrain from explaining the details of how she scarfed her food and indulged in a gratuitous facial tic that turned me off the moment i met her.But I shall enlighten you on the contradictory, hypocritical views that she held on life and love.

You see, I don't expect much of people I meet for the first time. I don't care if you're ugly, fat, have warts, have AIDS, are shy... I don't even mind if you make jokes or prank me, as long as I know it's in good fun. So when I tell you how off-putting this woman was, trust me, ugh...

While she interspersed her meal with random bigoted anecdotes about how all men are pigs, how they deserved to be punished and "you have to keep them in line" and "i'm a strong woman i don't understand how girls can be submissive" etc etc(remember I was meeting her for the first time), it became patently obvious that she was projecting her insecurities and inherent sexism onto the entire male population, laying blame on the Y-chromosome as the root of all evil.

And then came the kicker, the moron feminazi announced that she was itching for her boyfriend to propose. I tell you, bitches like this reinforce the myth that girls are stupid.

And once again, she was fugly. F....AHHHHH.......GLY! Ugh!

To all you Beemer Coupes, CRVs, Wiralutions and Wajalutions

2006-12-09T08:17:00.000+08:00

.....(and situationally unaware Satria GTi's who flash me indignantly after i punish you for riding two lanes)......

....... 21 minutes..........

........from the time I start my engine at Kepong Baru...

..... to the time I open my front door(after parking my car outside the guardhouse, walking in, waiting for elevator) at Court 9, USJ.

..... in an unmodified, 4-year-old Perodua Kancil 660EX.

'nuff said.

Want to Learn something New? :)

2006-12-03T05:33:00.000+08:00

Hardly a day passes by when I do not learn something new. However esoteric, irrelevant, or mundane a piece of information might be, I have this clinical obsession to learn and know. It's not the obvious pay-off of being seen as smart that motivates me (of course I thoroughly enjoy it when it happens, although I see it as more fortuitious and "hey-why-the-fuck-do-i-know-this" rather than an obvious result of being educated previously)..... it's just the pure damn joy of learning something new. This isn't the moralistic, judgemental "knowledge makes you happy" that faintly reeks of kim jong-il-style education. Don't you remember? the teachers in school somehow tried to force this idea down the throats of pepsi-cola and chi-ku-pang obsessed kids; I just believe that I'm genetically wired to get a dose of endorphins whenever there's new information written into the fatty cells in my skull (Something New no.1. Of the solid (non-water) matter in the brain, 60% is fat, or lipid). It's weird. I can't explain it to those of you who have the ability to just enjoy the physical, hedonistic pleasures of life without worrying. It's like an obsession - an addiction - that I need to satiate, this single-minded and relentless pursuit of knowledge. I don't consciously realise it, but as I analyse it now while I'm typing this post, each small datum and each small piece of information is merely one in a train of many that builds knowledge and inexorably, inexhaustibly drive me towards even more. It's a bit scary, actually.

You can ask my mum about my obsession with knowledge. I was addicted to Sesame Street and The Electric Company as a toddler, DEVOURED encyclopedias and messed around with so much Lego and Lasy when I was a pre-schooler, read and re-read dinosaur and fish books, rambled on and on to my dad about astronauts and Rube Goldberg machines when I was four, reprimanded him when he mixed up stegosaurus and tyrannosaurus, huddled in corners all my childhood with any piece of reading material(Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Reader's Digest, The Arabian Nights, cereal boxes, fighter jet clippings, Aesop's Fables, Classic fairy tales etc) and spoke using chapelang english and intentionally wrong grammar to fit in with how everyone spoke while hoarding an inordinate, weirdly Calvin-esque vocabulary. This is the one piece of societal pressure that I will forever capitulate to, crappy conversational English... until this very day. I silently laugh whenever my dad severely informs us that the use of "one"(as in "that one whose book?" "My one") is an absolutely abhorrent practice. He gave me the impression that it ranked right up there with farting during a formal dinner as things that shouldn't be done. Mum says I spoke tamil as a kid, because my nursemaid when young was 'akak Rani, an Indian lady who could speak only Tamil and broken malay.

So anyway, wanna know what I learnt today? Sit back and enjoy, for I have compiled the weird funny things that have entered my brain today, for my amusement and for your enjoyment(remember I hold no responsiblity for the veracity or verifiability of statements below. Don't blame me for anything that happens as a result of reading what I post below):

Something new no.2: The candiru(from wikipedia): "Tiny freshwater fish found in the Amazon River and has a reputation among the natives as the most feared fish in its waters, even over the piranha. known to grow to a size of 6 inches in length and is eel shaped and translucent, making it almost impossible to see in the water. The candiru is a parasite. It swims into the gill cavities of other fish, erects a spine to hold itself in place, and feeds on the blood in the gills, earning it a nickname as the "vampire fish of Brazil". It is feared by the natives because it is attracted to urine or blood, and if the bather is nude it will swim into an orifice (the anus or vagina, or even in the case of smaller specimens the penis—and deep into the urethra). It then erects its spine and begins to feed on the blood and body tissue just as it would from the gills of a fish. As the fish locates its host by following the water flow from the gills to its source, urinating while bathing increases the chance of a candiru honing in on a human urethra. There has been a confirmed removal of a Candiru from a man that survived an attack by the fish. Upon removal the fish was measured to be 134mm (5 1/2 in) in length. The fish jumped out of the water to enter his urethra following the trail of urine(!!!!!!!!) "
Oh yeah. Fun. Are you enjoying the goose-pimples yet?

Something new no. 3: Facts about HIV and AIDS. I read about, but won't bore you with proteases, integrases, macrophages, reverse transcriptase, T-cells, CDT count etc etc. However, here are a few intersting facts about the disease that you might not know:

15% of all Africans have AIDS(that's 1 in 7!)
Official numbers say 1 in every 400, but my friends and I think it's closer to 1 in every 100(because of unreported cases) Malaysians have HIV/AIDS.
In the US, almost half of all new infections were attributed to gay men and black men(in other words, it sucks to be gay and black in America)
Babies can get HIV through breastfeeding from their infected mothers.
Even though 9000 out of every 10000(9 out of 10) transfusions of HIV-infected blood resulted in new infections, only 67 out of 10000 cases of sharing infected needles(drug use) resulted in the same.
There is something called nPEP(Post-Exposure Prophylaxis). If someone were exposed to an HIV source(usually needle-stick injuries in medical personnel), they give them anti-retroviral drugs as soon as possible(up to 24 hours but ideally within 1 hour) for 28 days and in many cases the injured medical personnel isn't infected.
Yes, you CAN get AIDS by giving or receiving oral sex, although the infection rate is 1 in 10,000(assuming no condom use, which I don't think anyone does)
The infection rate for penile-vaginal intercourse is 10 in 10000 exposures, assuming no condom use. This reduces to 1.5 per 10,000 exposures with proper latex condom use. So all you fuckers out there(pun not intended), please for fucking godsakes put your prudishness, self-consciousness and organised-religion-induced restrictions aside and use a fucking rubber. If you want to die while "believing" and "obeying" your God, go ahead, as long as it's just you. But some of you are fucking hypocrites who will have sex with many people while protesting to your partners that your religion does not allow you to use birth-control. which brings me to....

Something new no.3: Facts about condoms.

There's a place in France called Condom. Gives new meaning to the phrase "French Cap". Poor Condom-ites. They'll be laughed at anywhere else in the world... or in France for that matter.
Condoms ARE NOT FOOLPROOF. Method failure(proper and consistent use but still pregnancy happening) is 2%. All you couples that have fucked 49 times and aren't pregnant.... better stop fucking :) Seriously though, get this fact and swallow that big lump in your throat, all you players and player-ettes, actual effectiveness(condom intended as sole form of birth control, but includes couples that use wrongly or sometimes not at all) is only 85%. That means a 15% failure rate in actual use! My humble advice is please please please please learn how to use a condom correctly and consistently. Stop blushing, morons! I'd rather be embarrassed than pregnant, if you get what I mean.
There is a thing called a collection condom, a special rubber for collecting sperm in infertility treatments and something else called a femidom, a female condom.
The Filipino(largely Roman Catholic) government refuses to promote condom usage or pay for their distribution. In some places, health workers are even banned from discussing them; Sales of condoms outside pharmacies was only legalised in Ireland in '93; Condom usage and sales is banned in almost all Somalia.
The British SAS carry condoms as a method for carrying water in emergency survival situations.
Navy SEALS have used doubled condoms, sealed with neoprene cement, to protect non-electric firing assemblies for underwater demolitions - leading to the term "Dual Waterproof Firing Assemblies."

Something new no.4. Facts about eyes, contacts and intra-ocular lenses:

Contact lens users, before you insert the lenses, you not only need to wash your hands with soap, but more importantly(and I read this with great concern), soap that does not contain fragrances or moisturisers.
KERATITIS is a rare disease where amoebae(Acanthamoeba) invade the cornea of the eye. Can cause blindness. Almost always associated with contact lens use. That's why you should never let your contact lenses touch tap water. EVER.
They make contact lenses for your Old Man. Far-sighted ones. Hehe. Oh and even better, they make bifocal and multifocal ones too. *stifles laughter*
Intraocular lens insertion is the most common eye surgical procedure. It's mostly to correct cataracts, but also(very interestingly) to correct extreme myopia, hyperopia, and astigmatism in cases where LASIK cannot be performed.
They use a rolled up lens made of acrylic or silicone that unfolds after inserted through a small incision in the eye. This lens cannot change it's curvature, and so distance vision is good while reading glasses are needed for close vision. There is however a new lens whose position can be changed by the ciliary muscles of the eye, allowing natural focusing.
There are 3 sorts of tears, believe it or not. Not all of them lubricate the eye.
There are contact lenses used to deliver drugs to the eye.
saline solutions do not cleanse contact lenses, and are only used for rinsing.

Something new no.5(non-geeks please skip this section)........... Oh never mind, you would all be bored to death by my enthusiastic descriptions about the Large Hadron Collider and how it will hopefully bring about another renaisssance. Here are some interesting facts(put simply) for the MTV-instant-gratification generation:

It costs more than US$8 billion.
One detector, the Compact Muon Solenoid weighs 12,500 tons, and is used to detect particles(PARTICLES!! That's a few 10's of something that's smaller than an atom!)
More than half the world's particle physics scientists are involved in some way or the other.
The most beautiful sentence I've read today:"Some researchers dub these particle accelerators the cathedrals of modern science: complicated, beautiful and an expensive testament to faith in a reality that transcends our everyday experience."
Here's something to make you go "You're a nerd and I'm bored already. I shall now deride your superior intelligence with a raised eyebrow and make fun of you when in fact I lack the brain cells to understand what you are talking about": You know what's a quark? How about an electron? Or W and Z particles that make up the weak nuclear force(we're not talking about Pakistan and India)? How about supersymmetry? No? Well, the particles have a cosmic partner called respectively a squark, a selectron, a wino and a zino. Yay.

Other things new: hugo chavez, hypoxia, swedish bikini team, final destination books, el laberinto del fauno. Search for them on wikipedia if you're interested. It's late and I need my sleep. Hope you had as much fun as I did. Cheers!

When Love(knee cartilage) and Hate(pelvic bone) Collide

2006-11-29T15:51:00.000+08:00

Andrew, the 19-year old chimpanzee-genius of a basketball player recently returned from Australia. I hadn't seen him in almost a year now so we were understandably happy when we got to play together yesterday.

Unfortunately, while he was marking me, his knee bashed into the small of my back, right on my pelvic bone. Usually it would have been a rolling-on-the-floor-in-agony experience, but the rush of adrenaline from getting the layup probably deadened the pain then(Even though right now it hurts like a fucking bitch, like somebody whacked my back with a hammer). But when I turned around, I saw Andrew hobbling around grabbing his knee, and I couldn't resist jibing him.

"Oi Andrew! Fucker! Knee my ass for what? Damned pain! I know lah all you damned virgins not getting any action...."

The funniest thing is he went,"WHAT?!?!??! You ass-ed my knee lah!!!!" *hobble hobble*

Penniless and Broke

2006-11-18T17:33:00.000+08:00

For reasons I shall not bore you with, events conspired this weekend to leave me with only RM35 to spend, for the entire weekend(that's Friday night until Monday morning), and with no way to access my funds in the bank. John from Klang whose pictures I look at while wanking (GOTCHA JOHN!!!!!!!!!! NO WAY TO RUN FROM THE GAY-NESS NOW!!!!!!!!!!!) - sorry about that. My friend John is slightly homophobic and I take every chance I get to make him feel as nauseous as possible - offered to buy me dinner... but I want to see if I can get through the entire 3 days without having to take cash from anyone, as an experiment in frugality and discipline. I had 52 ringgit late on Friday night..... but I couldn't resist cajoling the Black Ghost and Bryan to go to Kepong for Bak kut teh. So that's 17 ringgit gone. Discipline...... yeah right.

But then, I haven't spent a sen all day now, and it's 5.41 PM on Saturday. I've skipped breakfast on account of eating a huge portion of pork ribs in herbal soup until 3.30AM in the morning, lunch(cause I'm being a cheapskate), and I've only been munching on the muesli in my kitchen cupboard. And by munching I mean shaking the jar violently until the almonds and raisins rise to the top, and then picking them off one by one while watching Prison Break, ignoring the inevitable day when I'll have to eat plain muesli(yuck) and milk when I've finished all the nuts and raisins and all the good stuff.

As I laze in bed with the air-conditioning on full-blast and my laptop on my lap, I'm wondering if I have the discipline to not blow all my cash(wow, ALL your RM35!!! So much!!) and take up my friends' offer of ready cash. I think I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms from not partying yesterday night. All the scratching, twitching, and general irritability will probably be exarcebated by the fact that I'm not going to be partying tonight too. I've had no less than 4 phone calls by 9 this morning by people waking me up and wondering what I have planned for them tonight, and why haven't I called them yet since it's already Saturday morning.

The first sms this morning: "Yo. Any pussy plans tonight? :)"
The first msn msg today: "Yo apa buat? Got what plans for later?"
The first phone call today:"Oi! Where are you? Tonight party where? Why never call me?"
The last phone call I got: "hallo? Ei go out lar tonight!............. Go where??!?! How the fuck I know! You tell me lah!"

They've generally reacted with long pauses followed by hurt and confusion when I tell them I plan to do absolutely nothing. I imagine them standing around in a crowd, like the 4400, looking confusedly around wondering where they are and what they're doing...

...... and I think it's absolutely hilarious. The best part is when I act stupid and say,"Dun have ah. Call me if you got anything lah. Bye."

But you see, I really do need more than RM35. What for?

1. Haircut. My botak head just grew out, and although it's all nice and fuzzy like a rambutan, I want to look less like a fruit and more like a well-groomed gay dude.
2. Phone. I'm left with less than 80 sen worth of prepaid credit, and I had no idea until midnight yesterday when I got hit by the warning msg.
3. Dinner, supper, breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper again.
4. Gotta reload my touch 'n' go card. I like to put RM200 in everytime, saves me the trouble of reloading so often.

I hate being poor. I will work hard to make money to feed my family and provide them with a comfortable life! (cue corny "inspirational" japanese tv-series music)

.........Hey I just thought of something! People still owe me for the last few rounds of partying and I'll be seeing them tonight! MUAHAHAHA I guess this weekend will work out after all. Bye guys! I'm off to dinner!

XOXOXOXOXOXO
Khai Tzer

This crazy crazy life

2006-11-07T03:15:00.000+08:00

Life is good. No. Life is great. I'm enjoying myself more than I have in a long long LONG LOOONNNNNG TIME!

Athletes talk about being in "the zone", that physical and mental place when everything falls into place for you to perform at your peak, in perfect peace and with perfect confidence. I've felt that before, that rare feeling of controlled euphoria when you can do no wrong, when every shot whooshes, every lay-up is indefensible, and you see the game like Jordan does......

I'm living life very close to The Zone now, and I can only see it getting better from here.

-At the age of 24, when most people don't make many close friends anymore, I have inexplicably, very fortunately met a few new friends - Great friends - people that I would trust my life with and die for to protect. Previously I accepted that out of the hundreds of new people I socialise and meet with in a year, one true friend was a great achievement. In '99 it was Chun Fee, in 2000 it was Hooi Koon, in 2001 it was Sheng Wai. In 2002 it was Erlend and Liv-Mari, in 2003 it was Benny, in 2004 it was Hang, and miraculously this year, I met the few fuckers who play basketball with me.

-I've grown up so much recently, without becoming too cynical about life. Unlike the frustration and anger I felt when I first lost my innocence and idealism, this time the lessons about life only served to open my eyes about the intricacies of being a social animal, and allowed me to bask and revel in the sheer bliss that is life.

The wild, crazy, impossible, virtually surreal nights at the un-likeliest of locations that is Beach Club earlier this year with my brothers. Incredible things happened, things that still leave me wide-eyed and slack-jawed with incredulity whenever I reflect on them. More crazy than what happened is the realisation that what happened was so important because they were great lessons about life. I haven't internalised yet what I did, and was capable of doing, and I relish the moment when it all sinks in.

My social life just exploded, and after all those years of suppressing myself in my teenage years (a combination of parental restrictions, dumb belief in the sanctity of certain social expectations, financial inability, and a shy inner self), I can finally enjoy myself, truly. No need to pretend to be "cool"(WUAHAHAHHAHA), and ironically, now when I can more than afford it, I've learnt that there's no need for lots of money too.

I have a place that I can really call home. A place that I love and enjoy and come back to whenever I need peace and alone-time. It's a warm, cozy place that makes me happy.

Long-standing personal milestones achieved. I'm also on my way to seeing my sex... uh, six-pack again(operative word "again" woohooooo) ;)

People who don't have to love me, do. I'm touched beyond comprehension.

Developed the ability to say no. It feels so fucking great. I feel like a two-year old who just learnt how to say "no" again. It's so fucking fun you can't imagine. You go "no" and then things that you don't want to happen........ don't happen. Magic!!

Also honed the ability to not give a flying fuck. Previously it was controlled by my emotions, but now, I just don't give a flying fuck. It's verrrrrrrry liberating. You should all try it. Girls, it gives you character(character = sexy to smart guys), and guys, it gives you lots of hot women. Yes, hot women are crazy... but I still love them.

Helping someone in need really does make you happier. Effecting change in a situation where you can assist someone immensely by doing something that requires little effort gives you a warm fuzzy feeling inside. It could be something as simple as hooking up two shy friends who like one another *coughcoughhobbitcoughcough*

Saying no to the wrong sort of women, no matter how hot they are, gives you a sense of self-belief and discipline beyond the usual male posturing and braggadocio. Guys(and girls), remember, it's not worth it when it's wrong. Instant gratification belongs to animals...... and should only be indulged in when there are no long-term consequences that might shorten your life and your sanity(i.e. psycho bf/gf, STDs and unwanted pregnancies,
parang-wielding over-protective family members, or a potential mate's sibling that's obsessed over you)

I could go on some more, but it's late, and I bet you're bored reading about this amazing life, But watch this space. This crazy crazy life is only going to get even crazier and more beautiful. I love you all.

Opulent Minimalist!

2006-10-11T16:09:00.000+08:00

Guess who has a new couch, a new shaggy rug, and a new apartment? :)

Pranked!

2006-09-13T01:29:00.000+08:00

For anyone interested in my mundane(snicker snicker), run-of-the-mill(mmmpgh!!), boring, normal(WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAH) life, I've been moving house the past 2 weeks. I shall not excite you with how I converted a fluorescent lamp-infested apartment into an avantgarde, stylish bachelor pad(pictures will be up soon if you're not invited to the housewarming) when I can bore you with stories about how paint dries.

No, I am being serious. I am going to tell you a story about how paint dries....

....... specifically, spray paint.

You see, there exists in my life these two fellows that I happen to love very much. Even though I've known them for less than a year, they're like brothers to me. One goes by the innocent moniker of Bryan, and the other by the vaguely AhBeng name of Botak.

Now, my apartment is painted in a very soothing light blue. It's different from the typical whitewashed wall, and I like it that way. Somehow, Bryan got it into his mind that I was in love with light blue. So he got a fucking can of spray paint, called Botak along, and decided to spray my grille light blue. It's like a switch got thrown in his head and he suddenly thought,"Hey I have a can of light blue spray paint. Khai Tzer likes light blue. Therefore, I shall spray his grille light blue. It will look absolutely horrendous I know, but Khai Tzer will love it. I think it's a good idea. In fact, let's just spray the side of the grille facing outside, and....... Oh fuck it, let's just have fun and just see what happens when we spray....."

So the blissful duo(Bryan and Botak) come to my house one fine day when I'm not home and spray half of my grille blue. They ran out of paint because it was too fun just aerosol-ing the paint around. I came back surprised and quite amused at the effect it caused. I wanted the outside of the apartment to look run-down(so as to not attract attention), and a touch of blue paint on the enamel-cream looked the part.

But today, the blissful duo again came hand-in-hand with a can of blue paint - again while I was not home - and aerosoled pieces of the grille again. "Wah got effect like clouds like that.... some white some blue...", Botak coo-ed in love and enjoyment while we were out yum cha.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!?!??" I thought to myself. Don't tell me they came to spray the fucking thing again......

I drove home dreading how my grille would look like. My heart sank in despair at seeing the horrible shade of milky blue that engulfed a previously normal-looking grille. And it DID have a cloud effect(oh dear god its horrible).... The best part came as I was alternately cursing them and admiring their genius at pranking me like this while sweeping the floor of all the excess spray paint that had dried and turned my marble floor a horrible shade of blue. Bryan called me.

"OI leng zhai or not your grille? Lengzhai(cantonese for "handsome") or not?!? Lengzhai or not?!?!?*giggle giggle giggle*"

"Of FUCKING COURSE NOT LA!!! BRYAN YOU BASSSSSSSTARD!!! #*@&#!!!-ING BETTER BRING A FUCKING CAN OF WHITE PAINT FOR ME I HAVE TO PAINT THE @#$-ING GRILLE AND THE WALLS. cccciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-BAI!!"

"WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!! ok ok I get you your paint *giggle giggle*"

But it was a good prank. Check out the hilarious results:by the way, the fuckers just sprayed it from the outside with no regard for how it would look as a whole. It ended up looking like some loan shark had come to deliver a warning for late payment.

How can anyone not love it if someone left patches of splotchy blue paint on your wall as they sprayed (only) the outside of your grille. I love my brothers. *muaks*

Here's two thousand words......

2006-08-08T15:01:00.000+08:00

Beauty is rare and fleeting, but when it's there, it's THERE. For a single stitch in time, every single one of your senses is left tingling, and you can almost hear the angels sing. I caught two such moments.

Dawn, at home in Kekayaan.

Noontime, Kekayaan.

Who are you?

2006-07-25T20:21:00.000+08:00

Alright, who's the person secretly topping up my handphone credit? Come on now, it's starting to freak me out, because 10 bucks a day is 300 bucks a month.

If you're a friend who means well, I thank you, but there's no need. I already love you and I have plenty of my own money.

If you're a girl that's interested in me, please stop. My affection cannot be bought. Try asking me out. I'll almost always say yes.

If you're a guy that's interested in me. Please stop. And tell me who you are, so I can give you back your money.

If you're trying to get back in my good books, then by all means continue doing it. You'll never get back in my good books once you're off. But on the upside, I have 300 bucks extra a month. Better one person happy than none.

If you're one of my brothers and this is a prank designed to drive me nuts..... you bastards, when I catch you, you're gonna have my foot so high in your ass you'll be coughing up my shoelaces.

Worth a thousand words

2006-07-22T20:48:00.000+08:00

Another bored and hot(but beautiful) evening at home in the estate. What to do? Go out walk walk take pitcher loh. This time I decided to take a walk down to our huge nursery and see what I could find.Look closely. Check out the two strands of spider silk attached to the flower.

Sundance Festival, Bukit Tupai

Coconut Tree

Industrial Strengthupdated

2006-07-21T02:03:00.000+08:00

There's a new palm oil mill up. These pics will go into my "industrial" collection. Enjoy:--
the mill from far *new*

steam*new*

Hot List updated

2006-07-10T17:14:00.000+08:00

1. Minishorts, weblogger.
For having the intellectual equivalent of an iron fist in a velvet glove, paired with a singular, elegant prose that hypnotises with its simplicity and understated power.

2. Jaclyn Victor, singer. *newly updated*
For her soaring voice that gives me the shivers, for being friendly, and for being so sizzlingly sexy I almost burst into flame just standing beside her. Women so hot shouldn't be allowed to wear tight yellow singlets with "Brasil" on the back. World Cup be damned. Singing talent aside, she's gorgeous. Surprisingly gorgeous enough to warrant crude loutish sexist comments that ignore her singing talents.

Fuck James Blunt!

2006-06-28T01:02:00.000+08:00

How in the hell did a scrawny, scruffy, creepy-looking Englishman end up singing every real man's secret song of heartbreak? And so fucking brilliantly too. Every soulful, measured piano chord, every nuance of piano or forte, every beautiful, brutally honest word translated into song - all projected by that uncannily melancholy voice - tears apart the long-healed scars left behind on your heart by great loves past and allows the blood of emotion to flow freely once more, at least for as long as the song is played.

It's sacrilegous how James narrates how every boy and man feels after every breakup. Doesn't the idiot realise that in the midst of the heart-rending sobs, swollen eyes, and pitiful wailing from your girl, only your stoicism and cold-hearted poker-face gives you a semblance of respect and dignity? No matter what, the girls must never ever know that you hurt so badly that it aches physically, that you feel like vomiting, that the frustration and sadness welling up inside is close to drowning you, that you eventually break down sobbing like a little girl anyway, only in private, alone, deep in the night when everyone else is asleep, and you feel more alone than the last man on earth. Only the knowledge that she believes you're a cold-hearted bastard could keep the shards of your broken soul together.

But now this idiot has gone and ripped the anguish that every man that has loved and lost harbours - every fiercely-hidden drop of sorrow and anger and frustration - and laid it bare for every girl in the world to see. It's so honest he even goes "goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend......" The love of your life will no doubt have been your best friend, something even more significant than just being your lover. He knows. Oh he knows alright.

What a bastard. What a brilliantly talented, immensely soulful bastard...

My Mamak Name

2006-06-11T08:39:00.000+08:00

Irrelevance. Lame-ness. Stupidity. All words that can be used to describe the existence of the 'mamak name'. It's a feature unique to members of my late-night supper club, the usual suspects who haunt The Chick Showroom, i.e. Tanjung, our regular mamak shop at USJ9.

Regular readers might remember Dass, the friendly waiter and purveyor of breast-roti-canai in the classic post "Prank of the Day". I neglected to mention that Dass doesn't call us by our real names, largely because Botak(in a fit of inspired madness) proudly proclaimed himself "Keanu" when Dass first asked us our names. In the same breath, Botak cackled loudly while rattling the loose screws in his disjointed brain, and announced to Dass that my name was "Zung". And Zung I am till this day. We got used to our farcical alter-egos after a while, and it's still a great laugh whenever someone new joins us for supper and looks quizzically at me after Dass calls my name.

"Hah? What he call you ah? Zu....... what?!?" ~~Botak~~Keanu and I inevitably crack up in manic laughter.

That was a few months ago. Recently the supper club swelled to include Johel, Bryan and Shaun. Johel is slightly rotund, and so he became "Gimu", short for "Gemuk". Shaun, who is short and stout, was christened "Hobbit". It's funny enough when you recognise the obvious reason we gave him the name, but it's hilarious whenever you hear an Indian national - who has probably never watched Lord of the Rings - call Shaun.

Botak will go,"Das! Apa nama dia? Apa nama dia?" while pointing at Shaun and grinning like an idiot.

"Uh....ah...... *thinks hard*........ Ah! Wuobbit!"

Priceless.

But the best name was reserved for my good friend Bryan, a huge guy who weighs 120 kilos and hates it when ppl call him fat. So of course I have to insult him about his weight all the time, even though I usually never pick on fat ppl. Just because it's so funny getting a rise out of him. But anyway, in the grand tradition of Zung and Keanu, which were plucked out of thin air, we gave Bryan a name that would be immortalised in etymological folklore.

I told Dass,"nama dia Veji-lah."
Das said,"hah? veji-ah?"
I said,"Ya ya. Veji. Veji Nah."
"Wuoh! Veji nah! *gives thumbs up sign* wuokay wuokay!"

And that, my friends, is how Bryan came to be known as "Vagina".

Hedonism...... again!

2006-05-15T20:12:00.000+08:00

Without divulging too many details, let's just say that the "outing" to Serendah was........ torrid. Before I knew what was happening, we were hurtling down the long smooth tunnel to substance-induced unconsciousness, enveloped in a cocoon of gluttony and unrestrained stupidity.

Oh it was a wild one. First of all, I had absolutely no idea where we were going. My friend - let's call him SkinnyBoy - just told me,"Oh serendah. It's a really nice place. I can't describe it. You have to see it to understand." Any further attempts to elicit details was met with a "diu... you have to see it to understand." or another offer to stuff my gullet with the unbelievable amount of great food available in the Selayang/Kepong area. The first answer was met with no small amount of profanities, but the second one..... well, the second one was a great way to distract. I had the best fucking bak kut teh ever.

All the while I'm thinking: How can Serendah be nice? It's in the middle of a jungle- lowland jungle, to be precise - and I staunchly believed that lowland tropical jungle = mosquitoes + heat + sweat + mess. Last year, I trudged my weary limbs down 30,000 metres of treacherous, muddy, moist, leech-infested, and heartbreakingly lonely jungle in Endau Rompin, and it was so bad it made me, an avowed naturalist and tree-hugger swear off trekking. The prospects for a shack in the lowlands near Ulu Yam didn't look too good, if you know what I mean.

But then he also promised me that he'd bring a wild party-girl friend of his. In his words,"You should meet my friend lah. She's the 'wild-type' one. You should hook up with her. Yeah yeah she's pretty hot. Damn nice body....."

Oh alright SkinnyBoy, but only as a favour to you :)

So the bastard woke me up too fucking early in the morning(because he couldn't sleep), and the first thing he said was,"DIU! She bringing her boyfriend lah. Fuck....." plus a lot of things that really cannot be printed(even on this page, I kid you not). To say the least, I was "a tad annoyed". WildGirl was bringing boyfriend, so I was basically on a jungle trip with 6 strange guys? Oh joy, oh happiness. For some reason the words "sausage-fest" kept appearing in my mind. In no uncertain terms, I gave SkinnyBoy my colourful, expressive, vocal, and very poetic two cents worth, and he could only laugh sheepishly.

As we picked up his friends one by one, the first comment every fucker had when he got into the car was "She's bringing her boyfriend!______!!!" in hokkien(fill blank with expletive). The ensuing conversations between SkinnyBoy and his friends were of a high decibel range, and was laden with lots of "hor lang kan"(let people fuck) and "kan ni neh"(fuck your mum) and "cibai"(cunt) and "lanciau"(dick) when referring to the frustrating situation of WildGirl bringing her other half. It was so funny I almost forgave SkinnyBoy. Later I found out she knew them all since school, and was the resident hot mama that they all openly fantasised about, and was teased about her (amazingly pneumatic) chest.... and other parts........ all the tiime.

So we got to the place. And it really is an awesome place. AWESOME! I'll have to bring my girlfriend there sometime. Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, it's great. WildGirl was walking up the steps and I was right. behind. her. What a sight. I tell you, I love her from the heart of her bottom.

The plan was to have a big cookout that night, with the implicit understanding that everyone was gonna get smashed, as they did every other time they went there. I didn't know that(nobody ever warns me. WTF) and thought that it was just a friendly barbeque. As a result, I was the butt of sissy-boy insults for most of the night for trying to avoid alcohol. Failed eventually, but not before holding out as long as I could.

"Hey SkinnyBoy, I thought you said he could drink? What, is he gay or something?" *sigh*

But before that, there was a massive barbecue. SkinnyBoy even made a fucking fondue on the grill, and to top it off(because everyone was losing control), the guys even called V-Sixer, this huge fat guy who was arriving late, to 'tapau' KFC when he came in. AFTER ALL THAT FOOD!!!! The best part was when he arrived, V-Sixer had bought a BUCKET of fried chicken. 21 hunks of Hot and Spicy batter-covered chicken meat, when everyone was literally having difficulty breathing, from all the tiger prawns and lamb and steak and salmon and sausages they had inhaled.

After complaining about how we were going to burst, what the fuck were you thinking buying a bucket, what the fuck you're the one that called me to buy, how to finish this I just ate a kilo of prawns, etc, etc..... everyone proceeded to drink some beer or wine, and then dug into the KFC. Bloody gluttons.

And then all the drinking and name-calling and playing pranks on each other started. I sat in a corner quietly trying to avoid alcohol and got called, in chronological order, an idiot, a liar, a homosexual, a liar, and someone who didn't give face(oh I got that a lot), by a bunch of people that I had only met that day. They were downing beers in one gulp and were drinking wine from the spigot. No exaggeration. I considered myself lucky to get away with a beer mug(!!!!) full of wine and two cans of Carlsberg during the barbecue, but then they brought out the brandy and it was chaos. Drinking games then proceeded and the guys got well and truly smashed. I couldn't avoid the games and was forced to down copious amounts of french alcohol too :((((

By the end of the night we had:

fat guy pole-dancing
lots of shouting
singing off-key to 80s music
same fat guy hugging a subwoofer to sleep while drooling and moaning
drunk people suddenly waking up and inviting everyone to jump into the freezing waters(it had rained earlier) of the jungle pool, then promptly falling back to sleep snoring and moaning.
barbecued leather sandals
threats of dismemberment if anyone touched the only carton of orange juice.
collapsible beach chairs collapsing on people.
blatant staring(me) at WildGirl, and ignoring her sissy boyfriend who gave me a dirty look.
vacuum cleaner firing up at 1am. I shall not elaborate.

Then EVERYONE crashed out except WildGirl, her boyfriend(who was pretty antisocial the entire trip) and me. I endeavoured to devour the heart of her bottom by enlisting her help in cleaning up the mess that the gang had made, and was only beginning my quest when hubby dear interrupted. Sien diau.....

Damned waste. The lights were out and the stream was tinkling and the rain was just dripping off the leaves and we were curled up in beach chairs sipping coffee and and everyone else had crashed out and there was really romantic jazz music on and she had just admitted that she "was too old to party much anymore heehee"....... Then came loud elephant-stomps down the stairs and lots of dirty looks at me from the antisocial geeky dude, ruining everything. How I wished it was the viking ages. I'd have asked my men to castrate the little sissy.

In short, no heart of the bottom for me. What a loss for WildGirl. Serendah was awesome though. Anyone up for a trip soon?

All A Guy Wants.............

2006-05-08T02:02:00.000+08:00

............ is a simple, classy girl: Someone incredibly intelligent, someone incredibly kind, someone down-to-earth. All a guy wants is someone worth dying for, someone that takes his breath away after seeing her for the thousandth time. He wants a girl who's also a woman. He wants someone to nurture him. He wants an independent woman with ambitions as great and noble as his..... and would be willing to give it all up for him, because then he'll know it's worth devoting his life and love to support her dreams.

He wants a woman he can call "my girl" even when she's old and grey. He wants a girl who is kind when she doesn't have to, who sees people as they are, and loves him without condition. He wants a girl who is strong outside, yet soft, vulnerable, and beautiful inside. He wants a classy girl who's as comfortable with royalty as she is with beggars and the destitute. He wants a shy girl who goes red when he teases her. He wants a feisty girl that teases him back after she goes red. He wants someone with a mind as quick as his. He wants a girl who will be a great mother to his children. He wants a girl who's happy whenever she's with him, even if all he has is a simple hut and enough food for the next meal. He wants a smart girl who trusts him absolutely, and believes in him inequivocably. He wants a girl who will tell him when he's wrong, someone he will listen to when she tells him he's wrong. He wants her to love his family as he does.

He wants a gentle girl, a happy girl. He wants a tall girl, a voluptous girl. He wants a girl so gorgeous his mind spins when he first sets sights on her, but impresses him so much with mind and soul that he forgets about her looks.

All a guy wants is a simple, classy girl.

....is a nymphomaniac-scientist-supermodel. Talk so much for what? 3 words describe it all.

2 Funny Conversations

2006-05-05T21:08:00.000+08:00

The first one, with Elaine, darling bud of May, who also considered this conversation funny enough to post the best part.........

Elaine:no no no..my mind is still stuck on a certain dinner dress im buying later
Me: buying from oshkosh b'gosh? [I tease her all the time about her height....her lack of height]
Elaine: *smirks*thats so passe
Me: guess kids?
Elaine:nowadays kids go for topshop kids
Me: Tell me about it.
Elaine:do NOT laugh. It's a place called "Cat's Whiskers."
Me: *mmph*
Elaine:its a great boutique in bangsar and hartamas. and they have another branch, heh, right smack in front of my office here
Me: dinner dress for.....gandalf coming to visit? [again referring to her as a tiny hobbit]
Elaine:for semi-formal dinners...like the farewell dinners for YE....my dresses and skirts are either too formal (gowns for weddings etc) or too informal
Me: oh ok ok
Elaine:gandalf and i aint talking. he wouldnt let me magically whip up some height
Me: whip? *suggestive smiley*hahahha
Elaine:FIGURE OF SPEECH! SHEESH. the only thing that should be whipped here is you, and i wont be the one doing it
Me:ooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! that sounds naughty!!!! so when shall we do it?
Elaine:ahha
Me: saucy hobbit ;)
Elaine:..............
Me:so lemme get this straight... you're buying a cock tail dress from a pussy hair shop....
Elaine:WAHAHAHAHZHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. *meowrr*

........And the second one with Erlend, my Norwegian brother, who was trying to explain to me an outdoor game played with sticks. The gorgeous Liv-Mari explained it to me as "throwing a stick at another stick", and I already had a great time teasing her, and now Erlend attempted to explain his version. Erlend doesn't speak very good English, and I can't speak Norsk for nuts. Hilarity ensues as the game 'kubb' is explained......

erlend says: kubb.. eh.. its a game where u are throwing limer after some other small treethings..
Khai Tzer says: limer?
erlend says: limer=limber
Khai Tzer says: limber?
erlend says: like a big tree
Khai Tzer says: you take a big tree and throw at a little tree?
Khai Tzer says: ?!?!?!
erlend says: lumber
Khai Tzer says: WUAHAHHAHAHAHA
erlend says: it is
Khai Tzer says:is there such a thing!?!??!!?
erlend says: sort of
erlend says: its called kubb
Khai Tzer says: that's the funniest thing i've heard!
erlend says: hehe
Khai Tzer says: but won't the little tree die?
erlend says: its a nice game
erlend says: nah its all ready dead
erlend says: we have chopped it down and uses the same trees year after year
Khai Tzer says: kubb?
Khai Tzer says: what's thte point of the game
Khai Tzer says: ?
erlend says: kubb..?
erlend says: in norvegian it means something like.. ehh .. cant find a good word for it
erlend says: u know when u are burning wood
erlend says: u cut it in small nice peices
erlend says: u got a kubb
Khai Tzer says: ah...
Khai Tzer says: twigs, chippings.....
erlend says: propably
Khai Tzer says: then you throw it at a tree?
Khai Tzer says: to hit a target?
erlend says: u have to try it ones
erlend says: then u will see
Khai Tzer says: do you get points?
Khai Tzer says: how do you keep count?
Khai Tzer says: or do you just throw it at the tree until the tree cries?
erlend says: its a old game from the viking time.. the meaning is to throw down the other teams small trees
Khai Tzer says: so you throw until the trees fall down?
erlend says: nonono
Khai Tzer says: then?
erlend says: its not stuck to the ground
erlend says: when u hit it, it fell over

You can imagine the amount of incredulity and laughter that resulted from this little exchange. Click here to see kubb explained properly.

Interesting things that happened this past week

2006-05-04T23:52:00.000+08:00

1. Beach Club, Labour Day eve: On the podium in the centre, there was a bangla dude dry-humping a slutty whore from behind to the beat of trance music. At one point, he even pushed her head down as he literally slammed her from behind, in front of the entire club. It was horrendously surreal.

2. Labour day, driving home on the beautiful Yong Peng- Paloh road, mummy and I practise our grammar:
*I twitch the steering wheel to avoid a dead musang on the road*
Mummy:"OI!! WHAT HAPPEN?!?!?"
Me :"Uh nothing lah. It's a musang."
Mummy:"Hah?"
Me :"I mean, it WAS a musang. The thing is alread......."
*swings steering wheel violently to the left again as another fucking fox crosses the road*
Mummy:"What was THAT?!?!??!"
Me "Is. That IS a musang."

I also avoid 6 dogs a cat, and 2 other musangs and at least 1 cibai Paloh motorcyclist within the 1 hour drive.

3. I saw a huge heron that was half as tall as me.
4. I discovered the joys of couch potato-hood with a long weekend back home.
5. A 6-series(M6) and 612 Scaglietti(both red) in convoy overtook us so fast on the highway that we couldn't even see whether the plates were Malaysian or Singaporean. There were just two incredibly loud whooshes, and by the time we turned out into the fast lane, they had left us at least half a kilometre behind.
6. Elaine has a huge bush.

Funny Conversation

2006-04-17T16:52:00.000+08:00

After a hilarious go-kart session where my phone flew out of my pocket and disintegrated into little pieces and the kart was so unbalanced that my hands and ass were numb after 10 minutes, we crawled out from the snug seats with sweaty heads and helmet hair and huge grins on our faces.

Anthony: Well that was fun wasn't it??!? Hahahahahahha
Me: Wooohoooo!! Damn right! I overtook all of you! Nyehehehehhehe.... But my ass is all numb. Oh my poor ass.
Anthony: But 10 minutes was too short..... *pause*...... as with all the fun things in life. *waggles eyebrows and cheeky grin*
Me:I don't know bout you, but it takes more than 10 minutes for me........ *waggles eyebrows*

*both crack up laughing*

How to know if you were born between 1980-1984,

2006-04-17T15:35:00.001+08:00

1. Guys: Voltron, He-Man, Thundercats, Mask, TRANSFORMERS!!!!!
2. Girls: Jem, The Smurfs, The Care Bears.

*sidenote: If that pang of nostalgia is inspiring you to find old episodes of your favourite cartoon..... for the love of god, don't. I watched an old episode of Smurfs and Thundercats the other day, and they sucked harder than my mom's Electrolux vacuum cleaner. The art was crap and the dialogue was so contrived I almost puked my guts. Plus with those heels and the big blonde hair, that Smurfette is obviously a nympho-slut. Oh God! See what happens when you watch innocent old cartoons with your grown-up dirty mind?!?!?

3. Michael Jackson was black, and a god; Not white, and a joke. Mum told me I knew 'beat it' before I could even talk properly.
4. VCD?!? Fuck off lah! Only got videotape.
5. Disney cartoons were still 2-d, and hand-animated.
6. No iPod. Discman also don't have. Only got BoomBox and Walkman.
7. Your dad owned a Datsun, not a Nissan.
8. No Proton Saga yet.
9. Every house has a Toyota Corolla/Honda Accord.
10. black-and-green computer screens.
11. There were only 2 constants in life: Lee Kuan Yew and Mahathir Mohammad.
12. When you called someone, you said,"Hello, can I speak to Ahmad please", not "Oi! Where are you?" and you dialed by using a REAL rotary dial, not a keypad.
13. Small kids actually played "catching" in the evenings instead of going for tuition all fucking day long for 12 years at a stretch.
14. You were best friends, not awkward strangers, with your neighbours.
15. Micro Genius was your (only) game console of choice.
16. In primary school, there was a game called "Pepsi Cola".
17. You could buy legal fireworks during Chinese New Year (but as with all good things in life, it's much nicer when they're illegal, so fellate away while chewing gum, you stupid Singaporeans!!!)
18. 1 Ringgit could buy more than 1 Singapore Dollar.
19. Genting Highlands was heaven.
20. You could have a feast at the school canteen for RM1.
21. In secondary school, having a mobile phone was surprising, having a 3210 made people gasp in awe, and we were only ever heard of people with an 8210 or a StarTac.
22. BMX, not Mountain Bike.
23. TVs didn't have remote controls when you were a kid.
24. Internet?
25. Central locking?
26. Microwave oven?
27. Diego Maradona, not Diego the Sabretooth Tiger.
28. Michael Jordan, not Yao Ming.
29. Football, not Futsal.
30. American Express, not Mastercard.
31. 80 sen petrol.
32. Seremban was still the world's most idyllic, perfect place.
33. Yaohan! Oooh boy, no trip to KL was complete without a trip there.
34. Kentucky Fried Chicken was called"Kentucky" for short("Ei let's go Kentucky"), and it sold beer instead of all that tomyam flavoured shit.
35. People actually went to A&W.
36. Alcohol and cigarettes were cheap.

Sheng Wai Comes in Public!!!

2006-04-07T07:01:00.000+08:00

Check out that orgasmic look on his face. What a perverted little motherfucker. And there were small kids around too!!! Most importantly, he was looking at a fat old aunty with grey-blonde hair and saggy tits when I caught him doing this. HAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA. Bryan, SW and I got a whole load of laughs and wet shoes trying to get this perfect shot at the Genting Theme Park and it was too funny not to post.

All-Night Bender

2006-03-31T20:16:00.000+08:00

Absolut Citron. *bleargh*

Do you know what's happiness?
In the blinded floating happy uninhibited world that occurs when you're drunk(as I am now), you realise with a start that money doesn't matter a whit in happiness. What really makes you happy is the warm feeling you get inside when you realise that you're having fun with the people you love, whether your family or your good friends.

I just spent the night playing chor dai di with my brothers in basketball, David and Bryan, at David's place, and later with Li Jin and Johel too. The loser of every round had to down a shot of vodka, and I turned out to be the big loser until I changed places with Bryan, whereupon I won every single round until the end of our party(weird, I know). In any case, 5 people finished 2 bottles of vodka and almost 5 litres of red wine. I don't like drinking, and I didn't even know I could drink so much until just now. In fact, I'm damn fucking surprised I can still type straight after drinking so much. David drank half what I did and was almost out cold, other than the fact that he took every chance to jab my asshole with his finger and laugh maniacally afterwards, all the while asking me if my mom fed me beer when I was a baby why the fuck can I drink so much. Dude, I don't care. There's nothing so great about being able to destroy your brain cells with ethanol. My ass is still sore from his fingering. What a bastard.

I love you, guys. What a SMASHING weekend. And Elaine told me she's going to introduce me to Lily, her cute friend, while treating me to a filet-o-fish at the scottish burger place.... McDonald's LOL. I can't wait!

I Heart You Guys Too!

2006-03-30T02:42:00.000+08:00

I got a free top-up on my sim-card from Mills and Co.(my old colleagues) at DiGi on the excuse of doing testing. I Heart All You Guys Too!

Proven: Pork fat is good for health!!!!

2006-03-28T03:26:00.000+08:00

No. I am not joking. Click on this link to read the full article. This is what they should do with biotechnology!!! All that boring stem-cell research, telomerase lengthening, glow-in-the-dark fish nonsense has finally given way to a proper use of life sciences and technologies: Scientists have managed to engineer pigs to produce omega-3 fatty acids. Woo-hoo!!!

"Because of the study, pork products such as bacon, ham and others that are loaded with artery-clogging saturated fats and cholesterol may become beneficial to cardiovascular health in the future." says the article. And then it goes on and on about eicosapentaenoic acid and docosahexaenoic acid and battery acid and some nonsense I wasn't too bothered about reading. I was imagining the possibilities:

"Dear! The doctor says my cholesterol has been a bit high lately...... Oh and you know how the salmon and tuna nowadays are poisoned with mercury and PCBs. I guess we can't get our omega-3 from fish..... I guess we'll just have to eat more bacon and bak kut teh then......."

WAH!!!

*Mr. Mackay South Park voice: "Life is goo-ood, mm-kay?"

Prank of the Day

2006-03-06T04:02:00.000+08:00

Some background before I begin this story: Botak and I are good friends with this guy who works at the Chick Showroom. His name is Dass and he's from Chennai, India. He sits down with us when it's not very busy and we try to talk. Dass is 23, really skinny, has a gentle disposition and is very friendly. I suspect that he enjoys our company almost as much as we enjoy his. We communicate using the Malay he's learnt and his Inglish and our Manglish, and it usually works. We bonded over a few yum cha sessions where he served us, using the lingua franca of males everywhere: dirty jokes, lewd gestures, and comments insulting the respective sizes of our manhoods(menhood?). We play pranks on him and he plays pranks on us, all in good fun.

Botak's magic phrase is 'peyh pundek', meaning 'big pussy' in Tamil. Anytime Dass says anything, Botak just answers with 'peyh- pundek', unfailingly and faithfully. There has not been one yum-cha session that he doesn't answer Dass' 9 out of 10 questions with a variation of 'big pussy'. He could ask what Botak was doing the next day.... peyh-pundek..... What do you want to eat? peyh pundek. Hey SHHHH....not so loud there are many customers here you idiot........ "PEYH PUNDEK!!"..........

So today, Botak and I were at the Chick Showroom as usual. We were both really mellow for some reason(maybe because it's Sunday) so I decided to get Dass to teach me some Tamil to pass the time. It started when he asked me what I wanted to drink(in Tamil, no less).

"Nehn-nehn", I answered, with a totally straight face. Botak burst out laughing.

For those of you who don't speak English, 'nehn-nehn' is hokkien baby-talk for 'milk'. Recently though, Botak and I have been bastardizing the phrase by half-mumbling/half-moaning "nehnnnn-nnnnnnnnehn........." in pretend-hypnotism and staring with an unblinking spastic gaze at any pretty girl with a nice pair of breasts, like a retarded kid who's staring at candy and drooling, using the phrase nehn-nehn to mean breasts. It's really funny(unless you're a boring prissy missy, in which case fuck off, this story is not for you). The prettier the girl(and most importantly, the nicer her mammary glands, the more spastic you must look. The point is not the girl we're staring at - I mean, we'll appreciate the view like any normal red-blooded male - but how we show that we think she's hot. So if she's super-hot, we should pretend to be nose-bleeding, drooling, moaning "nuuuuuueeeeeeehn- NUUUEEEEHN!!!" and behaving with all the intelligence of a single-celled organism. If however, she's only moderately hot, we're supposed to just go 'nehn-nehn' with a mutual nod. If someone goes super-spastic over a chick who's actually really ugly when seen up close, the other guy must show a disgusted look and a disdainful sniff at the poor taste of the other.

As you can see, it's a really high-browed display of maturity and psychological superiority.

So when I told Dass I wanted to drink'nehn-nehn', Botak burst out laughing with his gleeful little-boy look. Dass just look confused and asked "apa?" in tamil-accented malay.

"nehn-nehn." and I mimed the shape of boobs using my hands.....
"wuooooh!!"Dass exclaimed in over-loud comprehension,"Tetek wa?!?"

You can imagine how loud Botak and I were laughing.

"Tetek tada-lah!!.... Yini mamak la..... podah......." and Dass made that what-an-idiot-you-are dismissive Indian gesture.
So after a lot of lewd locker-room banter to show that we still love each other, Dass told me,"muolai..... in Tamil, you can say...?.....Muolai... means.....?......... tetek.."

Oh, MUOLAI = BREASTS. Nyehehehehehe.

So anyway, Sian Jeen, who was late because he was picking up his sister from Assunta hospital, finally arrived. He commented about being hungry and asked us, since we were regulars, what was good at Tanjung. I decided to put my newfound knowledge to good use.

"Garlic naan...."I said,"nasi lemak....."
"Is the cheese naan good?"Sian Jeen asked.
Botak said,"They use the.... whaddya call it....."
"......Chesdale cheese."I finished.
"Ya ya, the flat packaged one....."Botak said,"The garlic naan is good. Seriously. You have to try."
"Ya, and they got this special Roti...."I said."They use milk wan. Very special wan. They do it really well......"
"Oh is it?"
"Ya. Roti Muolai...." I barely managed to suppress a laugh and pointedly avoided looking at Botak, who already had that laughing gleam in his eye and a raised eyebrow.
"Really? Condensed milk or what?"Sian Jeen asked in curiosity. I had to really stifle the urge to laugh now.
"Ya ya. Condensed milk."Botak answered in all seriousness."Dei DASS!!! Come!! Order!!!!"
So Dass came over with an earnest expression, and I pointed to Sian Jeen, indicating that he was the one who wanted to order.

Sian Jeen looked up at Dass and said,"uh.....Roti Muolai.."
Dass looked at him with a stunned, stoned expression for a few seconds, and then his wits returned and he turned his head to look at me and Botak with an exasperated expression that said You-bastards-why-the-fuck-do-you-do-this-to-me-all-the-time?!?!!??!!?

WUAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAH!!!!

I laughed so hard I think the entire Chick Showroom was staring at me. I gave a high-five to Botak, who was also doubled over in mirth, and after we calmed down, we apologised to Sian Jeen even as Dass explained to him what "muolai" meant.

Another fruitful and productive day for Badman and Rub-In. Woohoo!

Oh really?

2006-03-03T13:32:00.000+08:00

In an inspired piece of altruistic wisdom, our considerate and caring deputy prime minister advised us in ~~one of the National Propaganda Publications~~The Star yesterday that "Malaysians SHOULD (so that means we are the ones to be blamed if we don't) change their lifestyle" and "become more prudent in their spending and ensure there was no wastage."

"Such changes in lifestyle should be made so that even if there were increases in fuel prices, Malaysians will be able to continue having the good quality and comforts of life which they have been enjoying," he said..........

*tries to stifle disbelieving laughter*

*fails miserably* WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!

Dude, putting aside the issue me refraining from commenting on the well-fed appearance of our DPM in the name of respect(no, not for him, but for tinted black pajeros that might appear on my doorstep, forcing me to urge my followers to "tenang..... tenang" and my driver to face charges of sodomy) or the fact that the most widely-read Malaysian "newspaper" has the incredibly urgent headline of "CHANGE LIFESTYLE" in huge bold print, putting aside all that, does that man think that we're all stupid?

I mean, besides the obvious of course, since he's in office and all that - just let me talk about this for a while, I'll get back to the main course - but there are people who actually believe every fucking word they read or hear. Yes. That's most of you idiots who have a Mykad.

"Oh oh, have you read about the Arab billionaire who wants to donate one billion to the National Heart Foundation?"
"Oh oh, you know that Alex Yoong's dad was forced to marry a Muslim so that he could get sponsorship from the government?

and the funniest one,

"Oh oh, you know that Langkawi has two sandbars off the island? That's why the tsunami reflected and hit Penang and Phuket........"

WUAHAHaHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But anyway, I'm digressing really way off course here. So our DPM is telling us to save so that we can "continue having the good quality and comforts of life"......

*nah*

How the fuck are you supposed to have a good quality of life if we're supposed to save? He must not understand basic accounting principles. If you take something out from somewhere, you've got to put it somewhere else. It doesn't just disappear.

He's saying that if I take public transport instead of driving to work, I'm enjoying my life more by smelling people's smelly armpits and having random strangers cram all around me to a station where I have to take a feeder bus, arriving all cranky and wrinkly.............. than driving all by my lonesome to a parking spot directly in front of my destination?

Or perhaps you mean that I should buy less food, leave it raw(since gas prices will go up too), and then laugh heartily as my family and I celebrate our prudence and financial astuteness.

And according to him, Malaysia is a very small net exporter of crude oil. What he declined to elaborate on was that the oil we sell is known as sweet crude, because of its low sulphur content(making it cheaper to refine) and is thus more expensive. Here's an exercise for all you brainwashed MyKad holders: go find out how much Petroliam Nasional Sdn. Bhd. (if you don't know what company is that, kindly jump off their twin towers and rid the world of your stupid genes) made in royalties and its net profit for the financial year 2004/2005 instead of how much crude oil we export vs. how much we import.

Well, Mr. Minister, are you going to take the RapidKL to work? Or a Honda ~~5 series~~ EX5? After all, your outriders could be put to better use directing traffic at the pukimak machauhai hamkahchan snot-drinking cum-gargling pundek kaninehcibai fucking jammed Summit traffic light in USJ. And surely one man doesn't have the need for 4 or 5 escort cars. Pardon my rudeness, but you have only one rear end after all. You can't sit in 5 cars at once.

I rest my case.

Here's a serious tip for you propaganda-fed farm animals: Google News. FYI, the world consists of more than a country with a ubi kayu and dog shape.

Brokeback Week

2006-03-01T07:00:00.000+08:00

This week is Brokeback Week. Let all be warned. Crude homosexual behaviour like random fondlings, ass-grabs, violently graphic genital displays and miscellanous molestations should be expected by all my friends. Do not complain if you lean close enough to me for me to kiss you motherfuckers, because I will do it. Whoever stupid enough to be fondled by me owes me a meal.

You have been warned.

Ode to the Mac

2006-02-27T01:39:00.000+08:00

I have to admit it, I love all things Apple. The iPod, the iBook, the PowerMac G5, the Mac Mini... Everything they make is so fucking cool I can't stand it. I have multiple orgasms just standing in the MacAsia Super Store at One Utama(which is why I'm not welcome there anymore).

Seriously speaking, have you guys seen the PowerMac? Brushed aluminium, easy access, hyper-fast applications. Or the Mac Mini, or the oh-so-cool iBook, or the iPod Nano, or one of those 30 inch Apple Cinema Displays.....*moan moan gasp gasp*...... uh, sorry. Anyway, to a hopeless nerdy science geek like me (who happens to be a design freak), the stuff Apple make are amazing. It's the epitome of functional, beautiful design. And then there's the user interface on the new OS - Tiger - and iLife, that application suite. Put together my adoration for Steve Jobs and well, you've got a convert to the cult of Mac.

I am however a PC user. That's because Apple stuff is expensive and proprietary(negating the possibility of hacking hardware and software), the easy, affordable availability of Windows applications *wink wink* and my familiarity with the Windows interface. Plus there are a lot more games on Windows than on Mac.

I've used Panther on the iBook before, and it's a pretty crappy OS. Maybe it was because I'm a noob idiot user and there weren't many applications to play with(the 14.4 jungle internet connection probably didn't enhance my user experience either). But Tiger, ooooh mama, GarageBand is so fucking cool.

Oh, there's one more thing(hehe, the Mac faithful will get the joke), watch this video if you have a broadband connection.

March of the Penguins

2006-02-24T03:43:00.000+08:00

I've been spending the last few days watching a whole lot of documentaries: "Jump London", "Marijuana - A History," "Guns, Germs and Steel", Barely Eighteen Vol. 25... Oh, not documentary ah? Sorry sorry..... and the best of the lot, March of the Penguins.

Some of you might have seen the poster hanging in the new cinema at One Utama. It's the same documentary. It chronicles the annual journey of the emperor penguin, a bird that usually swims, but travels a journey of more than 70 miles on foot each year to mate and lay their eggs. It is an epic story.

70 miles in the cold of winter is but the beginning. When they arrive they search for a mate, with which they remain monogamous for that season. The female lays one single egg, which costs her almost one third her bodyweight expended in energy, leaving her starving and desperate for nutrition. She then transfers the egg to the male - no easy task as the egg cannot be left in the chilling, killing cold for anything more than a few seconds - and travels the 70 miles back to feed. After she fattens herself, she comes back again. By this time the egg would have hatched, if it has managed to survive the cold or the clumsiness of new fatherhood, and it is the male's turn to travel that massive distance while the mother regurgitates food for her chick. They do this repeatedly until the end of the season, when it's warmer and the ocean is but a few hundred feet away.

I'm always on my guard against anthropomorphy whenever I watch documentaries, but this one can't help but pull on your heartstrings. You feel heartache as you watch the penguin fathers huddle together in the dead of -80°C weather, taking turns in the relatively warmer centre of the group. Some of them can't stand it and simply go to sleep, never to wake again, taking two lives as he goes, even as the mother is gorging herself so she can come back to feed her unborn chick - a futile 70-mile journey. And the scenes where the young chicks come out to explore and play can't help but make you smile. You see the naivete and joyfulness of youth in the penguins that you once had, and you realise that juvenile animals share many similiar traits.

Then again, the musical score is perfection itself. Every flute solo, orchestral symphony, and even the moments of silence capture the mood of the scene without flaw.

Poignant, touching, awe-inspiring. Wow.

Breaking News: BIRD FLU!!!!

2006-02-23T17:04:00.000+08:00

[kuala lumpur, Thursday]
Bird flu has spread beyond Setapak! Authorities have discovered that in the past week, the following people: John, Razneil, Li Jin, Sheng Wai, Weng Fai, Luanne, Jessica, Andrew, Jay, Jin Hee, Kuhsandra, Ariel, Prem, Haan Chiang, and Ong........

....... have all been found to be exhibiting the main symptom of bird flu: Talking Cock. Especially Li Jin, whom the CDC (Atlanta Center for Disease Control) suspects is the primary vector for the H5N1 and WH4 viruses.

Stay tuned for updates on whether we have to chop off your cock to prevent further transmission of the disease.

Walking wounded

2006-02-21T19:49:00.000+08:00

I landed sideways on my left foot today, hearing a loud scrunch and a sudden shock of warm blood flowing to my ankles.

"Oh fuck," I thought,"this is the big tiiiiime!"

And then I limped off the court, iced the ankle and compressed the goddamned joint. So now I'm limping along like an imbecilic cripple, hobbling in and out of my room to the laughter and amusement of my family.

Fuck.

Which got me to thinking about my mortality(again). In secondary school, I thought I was immortal, made of metal and impossible to destroy. Actually I've felt that way ever since I was born, and so I decided to jump backwards of a giant see-saw one day when I was 12, and managed, despite my self-avowed super-ness, to break my left wrist. It jutted out and the splintered ends of the bone grated against one another and I got into shock and I was in a cast for 6 weeks. Did it stop me? I was back the next day running around like and idiot and playing Mortal Kombat with a fucked up hand with Kit and Rik.

A week later I had already taken off the sling and was using my casted forearm like reinforced armour.

What I've done so far:
1. Broken my wrist.
2. injured my knee.
3.Dislocated my shoulder jumping around on slippery rocks(and was rock climbing the next week)
4. Fell head-first while hanging upside down at the playground, and I almost asphyxiated to death. Didn't stop me from trying to backflip...
5. Got my nose rearranged with violent force so I'm extra handsome if you like the "funfair mirror look"(didn't stop me from fighting)
6. Got my nose and eye socket cut.
...... and now, to cap off a wonderful start to the year of the dog, I've seriously sprained both ankles, twisted both middle fingers backwards so they look like sausages, and have a twinge in my knee as a result of still playing while injured.

Fuck. I wonder if I'll ever live long enough to reproduce. If I do, then Darwin was seriously wrong. Sometimes the stupid propagate.

Movie Review: Crash

2006-02-21T16:46:00.000+08:00

9 stars/10.

I understand all the hype about it now. This movie is mindblowing. The unflinching, brutally honest portrayal of racial stereotypes and the human perceptions and reactions to them are played out so bravely that you can't help but believe and empathise with every character, even the most villainous one.

Some scenes are almost painful to watch in their intensity. The liberal use of colloquial racial euphemisms only serves to enhance the sense of reality, rather than embue a sense of distaste. The storyline is great, the intelligent, realistic dialogue makes you laugh, and at the end of it all, you get that familiar, comforting feeling you lost a long time ago...... that deep down inside, despite our colour and creed, we're only human.

The calm, uplifting music that plays as the Iraqi dude goes to shoot a Latino dude that he thought was a gangbanger, the boyish Ryan Phillipe arguing with his fellow police officers, and Thandie Newton's wails of anguish all highlight the beauty of this film, a film that by thrusting into the limelight our prejudices, unites us with compassion and empathy instead.

To summarise, this movie is about racism, but it doesn't only do that. It shows what's behind the stereotypes, why we believe in them, and how it affects our judgement and behaviour in a given situation. It's absolutely great.

Who should watch this: Intelligent people who hate arty-farty Zhang Yimou art-house flicks. BTW Iris and Magnolia are not only names of flowers, but also the titles of absolutely crap movies disguised as art.

The Best Scrambled Eggs in the World

2006-02-20T20:48:00.000+08:00

Once upon a time, there was an onion and a tomato. They had big dreams. When they grew up, they wanted to be part of classically great dishes like pasta alla vongole or roast veal. So they worked hard in school, studied how to caramelise properly and how to trust themselves with the amorous advances of sizzling-hot olive oil.

Then one day, it was time. They were good little onion and tomato, hardworking and earnest, if a tad ambitious. Imagine their disappointment when they were to be used in nothing more than plain old boring scrambled eggs. Onion cried and cried as he was diced up with a cheap, blunt knife, touching the cook with his grief and causing the poor dude to cry too. Tomato, on the other hand, was coldly accepting of her fate, and succumbed to the dicing with a dignified squishiness.

Little did they know that Cook did not merely make food for the sake of sustenance, but was instead a quiet, diligent researcher of food science, avid reader of cookbooks, and a hardworking apprentice in the art of delighting by taste.

So onion was dumped into the pan with sizzling hot olive oil, tossed with panache and care as if he were a truffle or a treasured piece of salmon belly. Onion was surprised, as he expected to be burnt beyond rescue and dunked with tabasco sauce to disguise the acrid flavour. His loud wails slowly subsided to sobbing, and eventually to laughs of delight as he was carefully, evenly browned.

With a sudden burst of heat, Onion started sizzling and Tomato was thrown in, with a loud hiss of protest and the wonderful sourish aroma mingling with the homely comforting smell of saute-ed onion. Almost immediately, the pan was taken off the heat, barely singe-ing Tomato, allowing her to remain firm and juicy even as Onion was about to be caramelised.

Suddenly 3 beaten Omega eggs were dumped into the pan, flavoured with two pinches of precious sea salt. Oh woe is me!! cried onion again, Cook is going to turn up the heat and make us into fucking lumpy curds in 5 minutes.

But no! They watched in disbelief as the heat was turned all the way down, and Cook, who had just finished his basketball game and was half-naked and still dripping with sweat, lovingly caressed the egg back and forth in the pan with a wooden spatula. He did this patiently, unflinchingly, for 20 minutes over the lowest possible heat, allowing Egg to confidently congeal slowly, beautifully, into a consistency like that of the softest yoghurt, and before all of them hardened into lumps, they were already scooped out of the pan into a bowl, and sprinkled with a big share of freshly-grinded black pepper.

And so Tomato and Onion, bursting with pride, achieved their dreams of becoming a simple, great dish.

The End.

*Anyone wants to eat the Best Scrambled Eggs in the World, let me know, I'll be happy to cook for you :) Except for Sheng Wai(killian) and Weng Fai, who made a lot of stupid comments when I cooked for them last time. Stupid food noobs.

Super Man.

2006-02-17T02:43:00.000+08:00

There's only one way to live life, one way to make full use of your short time here in this mortal realm: The Superman way. In case you don't realise it yet, life is too fucking short. I'm 24 this year, and according to the official statistics, I've got only 2 more sets of these to go before I sign out at 72......

Hell no. I'm going to live forever. I'm betting that my generation will be the one that discovers the secret to unlimited cell regeneration (which prevents aging, and consequently, death), but until that happens, I'm not going to sit around hoping and living in mediocrity.

Live life full. Every single day, every single thing you do. You don't have time for regrets and I-should-haves. You barely have time to get what you want, so believe in yourself, trust in your instincts, expand your resources, love your friends, put your family first, track down what you want with single-minded focus and then hunt it down mercilessly. Until you have that, everything else doesn't matter.

I used to think that nothing mattered in this world but the propagation of good against evil, kindness over brutality, world peace, and an eventual second renaissance that would propel us into a technological utopia of peace and stability.

It will never happen. Mankind will perish long before we see world peace. Natural selection determined that only the fittest survive and are allowed to propagate, and humans are the epitome of natural selection. We are the super-beings of this planet, and the only way we will stay that way is if the fittest among us survive. How do we decide who's fittest? Yes, we fight.

So what do I do? Hope that someone is kind to me and help me realise my dreams? :) Fuck no. You can do that. I'm going to live like a superman. I'm going to chase the things I want with single-minded intensity. No worries, no fears, only the absolute certainty that I will get it. And I'll get it fast.

As I said, life is short. There's no time for doubts, no time for worries, no time for regrets. Plan meticulously, and when you decide to act, act with absolute commitment and everything needed to get it. Chasing money, chasing influence, chasing women, chasing power. It's the same: Don't pause, don't ponder. Have absolute confidence. Do it.

There's only one way to live.

Be like Superman.

The Obsession With Virgins

2006-02-06T14:22:00.000+08:00

Come on, guys. Really!

Despite what zeitgeist demands of society, despite watching enough Carrie Bradshaw you want to buy shares in Manolo Blahnik, and no matter how sophisticated, worldly, and tolerant you think you are, most of you fuckers are still backward, village-bred, uneducated, nosy bastards.

Let me elaborate.

There's this unbelievable obsession with virgins. This is the 21st century my friends. It's not "the coming century". It's already here. Yeah yeah, so technology has advanced to the point where you can find a satellite picture of your own house on Google(if you don't know how to you really belong in the last century), but we still haven't evolved beyond the point where a person's experience(or the absence) of sex determines so much about his/her social status.

Does anyone other than me notice the hang-ups we have about sex? It's blatantly used in advertising, discussed under the guise of 'social problems' in the newspapers, leered over with lascivious, voyeuristic joy in the Agony Aunt columns, and generally hangs over all of us like a giant, pink phallus that nobody admits they can see.

Guys hate to be virgins. If they had half a choice, they'd hump the baby girl in the next womb and get the whole fucking stigma out of the way as early as possible. There's nothing more fatal to your social cachet than to be named "the 22-year old virgin"......... and I'm not telling you who lest he commit suicide out of shame.

Girls have it hard(no pun intended). Since feminism and female emancipation and bra-burning and all that power woman nonsense, they've come to realise that all their high-browed denial of anything sexual has done nothing but drive up the shares of dildo and vibrator companies, and hence the "new woman" has apparently discovered her sexually-liberated self along with the birth-control patch(21st-century you know? No more pills).

But whoops, society isn't that open yet! I'll put it crudely: The girls wanna fuck, but they have to stay virgins. How old-fashioned is that?!?!?!? This is really weird. Girls want to remain virgins, but they don't know why. They have their own life, they go after the guys they want, they live a life of such quality that they would never have had at the beginning of the last century. But, BUT, the stubborn vestiges of Victorian-era propriety still has its stranglehold on the "moral-fibre" of the 21st century woman!

But anyway, this obsession with virginity has to stop. Girls don't want virgin guys, and guys only want virgin girls. However, most guys are virgins, while most girls are not. Funny isn't it? :) Maybe it's only my own stupid way of thinking, but it really shouldn't matter if you're attracted to that person at that moment right? Does it make you more or less of a person if you've had sex(or not)?

Take a leaf from the Europeans. Other than the pretentious British, I've rarely met Europeans who have hang-ups about sex. It's always cool. It's always OK. And it's always safe. They have low teen pregnancy rates because they're educated about sex. You think all that religious mumbo-jumbo about abstinence delivered by a hamsap-looking religious scholar with a goat beard can fight with the torrents of testosterone and oestrogen coursing through our teenage veins? Exactly. You wanna talk about a hangup? Talk about Al-Qaeda promising those terrorists so many virgins in heaven after they die a martyr.

I've got an idea, that friendster post up a field where you have to declare whether you're a virgin or not. That would be a really great way to read a person's mindset. But then most people would probably fill in that field with "it's complicated". LOL.

Socity has advanced. And the ladies shouldn't be bothered anymore. There's nothing I respect more than a woman who's honest with herself, who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to get it. I know how it is ladies. You know as you're reading this that it's so natural to express your needs, that you really do want to do it. And if you feel that it's natural, then you should just go for it. With me, that's not even a choice, it's the only answer. Most people don't feel this way, and if you stop to analyse it, even you might not feel this way, but you know deep down inside, in the most secret of your secret places, that it's true.

You're from Tonga?

2006-01-26T08:03:00.000+08:00

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

2006-01-26T02:33:00.000+08:00

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??

My friend Botak

2006-01-25T03:26:00.000+08:00

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.

Period so what? (feminazi post)

2006-01-24T04:26:00.000+08:00

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?

2006-01-24T01:58:00.000+08:00

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.

Ah Lau's blog. Totally amazing.

2006-01-20T11:22:00.000+08:00

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.

The Hobbit passed me a meme

2006-01-19T21:20:00.000+08:00

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

2006-01-19T00:28:00.000+08:00

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.

Goal number one (2006)

2006-01-18T04:41:00.000+08:00

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.

Kena Rogol

2006-01-14T20:28:00.000+08:00

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.

Silly-ass motherfuckers

2006-01-13T13:53:00.000+08:00

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

2006-01-13T02:08:00.000+08:00

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 ~~whores~~girls, 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.

Comments are enabled

2006-01-07T00:17:00.000+08:00

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.

Signs I'm Getting Old

2006-01-05T13:57:00.000+08:00

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.

All I want for Christmas is...

2005-12-22T18:59:00.000+08:00

.......Two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear... no, actually. Why should I have the inclination to participate in the rampant ~~christian propaganda~~ commercialisation of Christmas?

But let us, for the sake of faith in a better future for all(and me, especially), wonder what I want for Christmas.

In the spirit of zen and the abandonment of non-essential material objects, I wish for:

1. Perfect self-discipline and no more procrastination in my life.
2. The persuasive communication skills of Steve Jobs.
3. Luck and opportunity.
4. 4% body fat.
5. An even stronger upper body and the flexibility of olympic gymnasts.
6. For my dad to get a huge raise and the long-delayed acknowledgement from his backward Chinaman company.
7. The ability to reverse dunk a basketball, two-handed(or a 44-inch vertical leap).
8. The ability to climb 7c(5.12c, or 'very fucking hard' for you non-climbers) by the middle of next year(and to be able to do a one-arm pullup by the end of January).
9. To finally master French, and brush up on Japanese.
10.To meet, have a great time with, and charm the hell out of SailorGirl again.

And for the hedonistic, sinful, materialistic list, I wish for:

1. Feta, pecorino, and parmesan cheese; prosciutto(italian ham); capers; red wine and balsamic vinegar; saffron; 1kg of loire valley truffles; codfish, trout and smoked salmon; fresh basil, rosemary, thyme, and oregano; a perfect cut of pork tenderloin; osetia caviar; and a huge magnum/jeroboam/nebuchadnezzar(=20 regular wine bottles!!!!) of a 1990 Moet & Chandon Grande Cuvee.

Great ingredients = Great food.

Great food + Great booze
= Happy, satisfied friends + happy, satiated girls lusting after the cook :)

2. A good cast iron griddle, copper pots, and a Wusthoff knife set, to replace my non-stick pan, stainless-steel pots and carborundum-steel cleaver and cheap knives. Oh, and a stainless steel pasta strainer. I don't wish for much. Just the essentials to cook great food.
3. A two-week snowboard holiday in Argentina in May, and a dive trip to Sipadan and Mabul in September.
4. A Canon Eos 5D with a super-wide-angle lens, to create magic and enrich the lives of those who hunt for beauty.
5. A new, superfast desktop PC with a 30-inch Apple Cinema display.
6. For my business plan to finally get funded.
7. Flying lessons.
8. $10,000 gift certificate for books at Borders/Amazon.com.
9. An American Green Card.
10. A 2006 Yamaha YZF-R1 motorcycle(or a second-hand Ducati Monster 600 if that's too much to ask for).
11. A Ferrari F430(Why not?)

2005-12-15T23:42:00.000+08:00

Sacrifice:
Forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim.

For This
<---

to become

This

-->

--------------
Give up this

<--

and eat this

-->

~~Bak kut teh, Bread Talk pastries, fish and chips, Filet 'o' Fish, roti telur, banana-leaf rice, ham, bacon, curry mee, fried kuay teow, white rice, beehoon, ice cream, cookies, carrot cake, tea lattes~~......

Instant oatmeal, steamed fish, chicken breast, omega-enriched eggs, salmon, muesli, skim milk, and vegetables, whole-wheat bread, whole wheat pasta, brown rice, fruit, orange juice, lots of plain water. No salt, no oil, no cigarettes, no alcohol, no sugar.

Strength training 3 times a week, basketball every evening, rockclimbing on Fridays.

Worth the sacrifice?

You bet.

You're stronger, faster, healthier, happier.

Definition: Stupid

2005-12-14T01:01:00.000+08:00

I dedicate these post to that amazingly fetid, intellectually-challenged, cranially-deficient over-evolved moss terrorising my roads: the KL driver. To celebrate the upcoming holiday season, it is with humble delight, great joy and lots of love that I wish to say:

FUCK YOU.

.......and yo' mothafuckin momma.... as put so succinctly by social activist, musician and poet extraordinaire, the late Tupac Shakur. Seasons greetings and hope you have a happy new year. I humbly request that you reflect upon your exalted life thus far, and contemplate what irresponsibility it must have been for your whore of a mother to allow your retarded father that first kiss. You are an accident of nature, an unfortunate series of events that began with your illegal conception and ascended into pure insanity of another level the moment you were granted a driver's license.

Please do the responsible thing and stop this vicious cycle. Admit your illegitimacy, recognise the absence of logic in the cosmic order at your continued existence, and do everyone a favour by off-ing yourself. To ensure poetic justice, I recommend running yourself over with your own vehicle. It would be a brilliant end to a long, legendary career in stupidity.

Drivers in the Klang Valley are the most inconsiderate and dangerous bunch of people to ever tread the earth. I am of the humble opinion that they, along with the greedy, monobrow-ed, grunting neanderthals(who like to guzzle coffee paid by other people) at the Road Transport Department should be inserted head first into a wood chipper, gassed, or otherwise killed with the minimum of fuss.

You fit the definition in the title if you regularly behave thus:

1. Not using your turn signal when changing lanes. I don't care if you're already straddling the dotted line and you're in front of me, slowly attempting to nudge your nose into my lane. I will not let you in. I don't care if you're a harassed lady driver with two noisy children in the back, the driver of a huge MPV/SUV that is trying to bully me, or just a regular idiot Mercedes driver. I will drive you off the road before I let you in. That is not how you should occupy the space in front of my car. There is a stalk on your steering column, on the right for Japanese makes and on the right for European for you to INDICATE to someone that you wish to do so. Do you understand, boy? Or do you need me to explain it to you in baby talk?

If you have the temerity to give me a dirty/aggresive look when I accelerate and squeeze you back into your own lane, you shall have the opportunity to experience firsthand the exquisite visual pleasure of my middle finger.

Is it so hard to signal? If you stop reading here and immediately skip to the next paragraph, I shall know that you are one of those infernal drivers. You think that it's not important right? Well, you are a brainless, inconsiderate piece of dogshit. If you drive a Mercedes Benz and still do this, then you are a double piece of dogshit. I hope and pray that on a lonely road one day, a situation occurs that necessitates the deployment of ALL 8 of your airbags(and you are not wearing a seatbelt).Proves that your money was ill-gotten, and not the fruit of education and superior upbringing. Morons, all of you.

A variation of this is the idiot who indicates only after he's started to turn, or indicates the wrong direction, i.e. left signal and turns right.

2. Motorcyclist who rides in centre of road. Self-explanatory, I presume. Some even dare to ride in the fast lane, insistently oblivious to the backed-up traffic and the irritation of the driver directly behind them. Please stop doing this. I do not mean this personally, but your vehicle is slow. Please ride in A SINGLE FILE in the leftmost end of the leftmost lane, where you belong. I know you also pay road tax, but I pay more than you do, and you're blocking my road. Actually, you don't even pay road tax anymore if you're riding a small bike.

The next time you see a motorcyclist riding like this on the road, please encourage him to use the left lane with a liberal, generous, unbroken tone from your horn. Those with loud ones are especially encouraged to do this, even after he has changed lanes and given you the dirty look. Feel free to run him over if you're feeling pissed too. I really don't mind. Hell, go ahead and sodomise his wife, just remember to tell his children why you're doing it, to put the fear of God into them and make them responsible drivers when they grow up.

3. Lane hogging/drifting. I get a little annoyed when people do this. You know when some idiots drive half-in-half-out of his lane, so he in effect takes up two lanes? You know when some of them even deign to drive at the incredible, mind-warpingly quick speed of 0.0001km/h? They always look panicked and then try to accelerate in indignant self-righteousness whenever I take up the slack space in either lane(which they thought couldn't fit a car) and squeeze through at an amazingly dangerous(they think), horrifyingly large speed differential, say 40km/h faster than them.

And then there's the moron who thinks he can just drift into your lane whenever he's taking a corner. As I flip off the drivers with a friendly smile, I contemplate the possibility(because he's driving a big car) that his forefathers were wealthy people, and there's a secret society(like the Illuminati) consisting of all these rich people who acquire and aggregate power and money for the supreme goal of...... buying every square inch of road in Malaysia so that they can drive as they please. Hallo kawan, ini pandu kereta lah! Bukan main masak-masak. Pundek..... Is it any surprise again that the biggest perpetrators are the drivers of Mercedes-Benzes and Toyota Camrys? Just because they bully people that they don't bribe in everyday life, they think they can do that on the road too..... Oh, right. Never mind.

Sometimes you have hogs in the fast lane, who might be chatting on their mobile phones, or are uneducated in road manners, or just plain stupid. They drive slowly while traffic piles up behind. I think we should be kind and not bully them, because these are usually disabled people who are blind and deaf, and didn't your Pendidikan Moral teacher teach you to 'bertimbang rasa'?

How do I know they're disabled? Well they usually don't respond when I turn on my high beam and lean on my horn. That's why I have a scalpel in my glovebox. After I force them to hit a tree and they're unconscious with blood loss and severe chest trauma, I pull them gently(bertimbang rasa mah) from the 'well-engineered, amazingly safe, feature-packed, powerful and affordable' (cinta kepada negara) Proton, and use my scalpel to carve "please use the left lane. Thank you."(bersopan-santun) into their foreheads.

I have SUCH high morals. No wonder I got an 'A' for my SPM.

4. You slow down at on-ramps. You are an even bigger idiot than I imagined. If you care to notice the next time you are driving, properly designed on-ramps(the ramp that connects to a main road, i.e. the road from a "hentian sebelah" to the main highway") always slope downwards, and have plenty of space before they merge into the next lane. Why are they designed thus? Ask any civil engineer, and he/she will explain that it's to make it easy for you to accelerate and match the speed of traffic on the main road.

Why then, why in the whole wide world, does every motorist slow down at the bottom of the on-ramp and attempt to turn out immediately into the next lane? Oh, because you're careful.....

you going at 60 km/h while traffic is going 110 = careful?

"NAH!" *gives you finger*

The on-ramp has plenty of space for you to pick up the speed before joining traffic, you morons. You join traffic at the same speed that they're travelling to avoid accidents. It's also considerate if you don't force the car in the next lane to brake sharply or having to take any other evasive action.

I'll leave you to contemplate the four major indicators of stupidity. It doesn't matter if you've committed only one of the reprehensible crimes listed. It still means you have the IQ of a slug's foreskin, are totally disposable, and would be better off put to sleep in a kind humane manner(bertimbang rasa again) like slitting your throat with a rusty blade or bludgeoning with a sledgehammer.

Merry fucking christmas.

Metrosexualisation

2005-12-12T03:42:00.000+08:00

I am slowly- but inevitably - turning gay.

Symptoms:
1. I cook. Better than most girls. Shite.
2. Thanks to my attentive, feminine but temperamental love slave,I now know the difference between cleanser, toner and moisturiser. Oh shite. Just shoot me and be done with it(for your information I still use only facewash though. No, it's called FACEWASH, and that's the most you'll get me to admit).
3. I can dress amazingly well if I want to(uh-oh).
4. My skin has miraculously cleared up. I've even had guys compliment me on my skin. The skin of a person who could have been nicknamed "moonface" or "volcano" while at school.
5. I read everything. A LOT of everything.
6. People compliment/deride my fit physique(oh shite!!!!).
7. I'm so tolerant of homosexuals and their choice of sexuality that I don't even care whether someone is gay or straight anymore.
8. A girlfriend has laughed and said I look gay.
9. I have short, neat hair.
10. I insult girls. They like it(UH-OH!!!!)
11. I have worn my florid red Mambo hawaiian pants out in public with pride. I'm seriously screwed....
12. I still like pretty girls, but nowadays my first urge is to make friends with her and hope that she has a shining personality(can you believe I said shining? ohmygod *said in pondan voice and flutters fingers*)
13. I am an aspiring architect/designer. Oh shite oh shite oh shite.

Please save me, my friends. Please! Once I start to pierce my ears and smile a lot with perfect white teeth and develop the ability to have interesting conversations with strangers, it's all going to be over. I'll start fucking men. Today at Borders, I caught myself reading one cookbook and another on how to serve food with a flourish. And I only took three books.

I'm feeling so desperate that I'm not going to bathe for a week. I'm going to Svenson's tomorrow to implant hair between my brows, then I'm going to buy lots of red meat and beer, and watch premier league football while fucking a random girl I picked up and calling her whore and slut while we're doing it.

Shit. I almost said fucking her in the butt......

This is vaguely related: Sheng Jon told me a story yesterday about an acquaintance of his fucking a transvestite(or pondan for you homophobic buggers) in the butt, only to withdraw and see a fucking TAUGEH(bean sprout) stuck to the end of his dick after he was done...

HELP!!!!!!!!!

Random Hilarity

2005-12-12T02:37:00.000+08:00

Did anyone read the news story a few months ago about the Chinese zoo-dudes showing pornography to pandas in order to encourage/teach them to mate? WRONG MOVE. Showing porn to pandas is the worst possible way to get them pregnant. Once the male is ready to ejaculate, he's just going to pull it out and shoot his load all over the female's snout.

I understand the government's reluctance to legalise anal and oral sex even though everyone does it. We're a Muslim country blahblahblah(plus there would be nothing to prosecute deputy prime ministers with). Secretly though, everyone supports it. They could start by allowing medicinal blowjobs. We could get a prescription for blue-balls/monkhood. It would also help skeletal, kwashiokor-prone Malaysian girls get enough protein.

SinChewJitPoh reported that a Chinese tourist sarcastically held his ears and asked the police if he was required to do ear squats, when they were doing a 'routine' check of a klang valley nightspot.

They allowed Australia to join the ASEAN summit! Aieeeee!!! Next they're going to force us to fuck the ugly Aussie women in the name of regional co-operation. Fuck Australia. We don't need them. You think they care about our economy? They're more worried about ASEAN exporting jihad-intoning human bombs. But then we should be more worried about them exporting fat wild barking outback bitches(no no, not dingoes, I'm talking about their women). I guess that's the basis of co-operation then.

You know how host countries like to pad their medal count in the SEA games by including sports that they're strong in and removing others? For example Vietnam had fin-swimming and shuttlecock juggling(wtf sport is that?). When Australia organises the SEA games, you can bet they'll have 125m freestyle, 130m freestyle, 135m freestyle, 140m freestyle, 145m freestyle, 150m freestyle......

......and the new water sport called whale-humping. Any one of their citizens will be favourites along with the representatives from Malaysia and Singapore: married Punjabi men.

Hypocrisy

2005-12-12T02:19:00.000+08:00

hy·poc·ri·sy (hĭ-pŏk'rĭ-sē)

The practice of professing beliefs, feelings, or virtues that one does not hold or possess; falseness.
An act or instance of such falseness.

Petroleum companies pretend to worry about the environment by taking out full-page ads in newspapers, magazines, and even National Geographic, featuring their "commitment to the enviromnent", their promises of "renewable energy sources" and "a better future".

I heave in utter contempt at this. The master of these propaganda is a certain Dutch conglomerate that caused the Exxon Valdez disaster, an environmental catastrophe of epic proportions.

It's like a rapist cuddling the woman after he's finished sodomising her.

Everyone's trying to kill me......

2005-12-11T23:43:00.000+08:00

....... or at the very least, spend extra energy and effort in ensuring that I become fat and die young. God forbid that I ever achieve my dreams of leaping 44", compete in a triathlon, bench press 150kgs, or most abhorrently*gasp* have 6% body fat. I am a little afraid of their behaviour.

Why this fear? Well, I have an overwhelming, undisguisable wish: To live forever.

So far so good.

But it hasn't helped that I get derision, sarcasm, and sometimes volatile disgust when people get to know of it.

I don't even bother telling my friends about it, since I've received enough scathing remarks from just attempting to eat well and exercise. Some of them insert snide remarks about how "fit and good-looking" I am, while they're "fat and ugly, what girl would want me?" during regular conversation, for no particular reason than to give me a good dig. Others would deride my diet and say they'd rather die than live like me. I once got a "diu........ drink milk ah? What the fuck is this?" just for minding my own business and declining the offered coca-cola.

Sheng Wai tries (and fails) repeatedly to drag me to go drinking and whoring so often that I don't even need to say no anymore. He just asks and then we continue with whatever we were talking about. He's like the little devil on my shoulder, persistently hacking away at my moral fibre.

Relatives have commented(in barely hidden sarcasm) about my efforts and hard work in keeping myself in the peak of health. "Why you eat so healthy wan?*sneer*" has been uttered more than once, in a tone that suggests that I should be punished for not stuffing myself with lots of carbohydrates(the Asian way) and everything else oily and "tasty".

"Hei-yuh...... Like that oso cannot eat?!? You're so skinny. EAT LAH!!!!!! EAT!!!" my grandma would exhort(actually shout at me) in loud teowchew.

"jiak jiak jiak jiak jiak. ei........ lai lah. jiak jiak jiak......" *lots of food gets dumped on my plate by my granduncle while scolding me kindly in teowchew also.

"ei finish it lah ok?" Says my kind-hearted jee king(My mother's brother's wife)
"i'm full liau."
"Neeee-ver mind lah! Little bit more only. OK?" and proceeds to scoop all the leftovers onto my plate. After all, since I'm so fit and healthy, it wouldn't hurt for me to eat all the oily extras would it? THEY have to watch their meal intake since they "have high cholesterol".

Yay. Khai Tzer the Garbage Can.

I've also had "I'd rather die than eat that" thrown in my face when I refer to my preferred diet of unprocessed carbs, lean meat and preferably steaming or grilling.

"What? Gym again? Enough lah... You're fit enough already."

Even my mom, who's health conscious, has told me "We cannot totally don't eat oil wan!!!" in exasperation/desperation when I suggested gently that we leave out the oil in steamed veggie. "Your body needs oil!" I didn't want to explain that we get enough of 'hidden' oil from fish, nuts and other obscure sources and just finished my meal(it was delicious btw) with that extra tablespoonful of oil

It seems like every other person cannot stand the fact that I want to live healthily. Peer pressure and media suggest that a supremely fit 23-year old should be out "clubbing"(whatever that means), drinking and smoking. It's cool. People tell me,"Dude. You're cool. You shouldn't be worried about eating healthy and all that. That's so Uncle. You should be out clubbing and shit, you know?"

But of course! Why didn't I think of it? *slaps head* There's nothing cooler than 'trying' to dance with a semi-hot girl(because you're too pussy to hit on the hot ones) by grinding into her side while she ignores you, or drinking yourself into an unconscious stupor with horrendously overpriced alcohol. You can count me out. If you want to destroy your kidneys, do go ahead, and make sure you drink more than your liver can handle ok? And do that before you think about having children, so we can avoid your lemmings genes spoiling my pristine gene pool, thereby ensuring the survival of homo sapiens.

Most young chinese males have an overpowering need to prove their manliness by demonstrating their ability to imbibe and by deriding those who decline to do so. What the fuck is that?!?!? Any idiot can pour liquid down his throat. I can drink you under ANY day, but I choose not to. What does it prove?

Come challenge me to basketball or driving fast, then we'll talk. I'll even take you on in a strength contest, or if you really want to, we could just unzip and compare penis sizes(I'd have to uncoil it from around my thigh first). That would be a test of manhood. Of course I'd win(my nickname is tripod and that's why I walk funny) but neither of us would die of liver cirrhosis after.

It's funny when it happens to you. And I've had this happen to me the fitter I become. I dropped another 2% body fat and gained another 2kgs of muscle recently, and the efforts by my detractors have doubled.

My older relatives(like my grandma) mean well. To them, it's good to be fat and round since they've experienced starvation during wartime and it's such a blessing that their grandson will never have to be thin.

But in the case of others, I suspect it's a mixture of peer pressure, a lack of health education, and the need for someone else to conform to their status quo. They don't want the hard work of getting fit, and it's a prickle on their conscience whenever someone else is. Better that you fit into my nice perfect normal world of average mediocre not-too-fit people than I work my ass off to fit into yours.

Honestly, other than with my immediate family, I don't give a damn. You can eat all the over-fried, over-salted trans fats and processed carbs you like. Hell, if you're visiting, I'll even cook you the best ever roast duck/pork knuckle stew you've ever tasted while I eat my oats and steamed chicken breasts. It's not some health nazi thing. It's just my choice. I don't lecture you about eating healthy. Why should you lecture me about giving up that mutton rendang?

Support me a little. Please. That's all I ask.

Books 'R' Us.

2005-12-10T06:27:00.000+08:00

My reading list for next week

Do you know what's better than having a new book to read?

Having more than one new book to read.

You know what's better than having more than one new book to read?
Having more than ten new books to read.

Remember! envy is a cardinal sin! Have a good weekend.

Cat Shit, Fuck (episode II)

2005-12-10T04:59:00.000+08:00

I screeched to a halt in front of the tutor's rooms, went in and saw two pretty Indian girls with young, radiant faces looking up expectantly.

Mmmm...... :) I thought to myself.

"Miss Nisha?" I asked uncertainly, looking from one to the other.
One of them laughed and covered her mouth. The other pointed to her.
"Khai Tzer?" She laughed again.
"Yes..." I put on my best formal-looking good boy polite look. Never failed to impress strangers.
"You don't recognise me ah?" 'Ms. Nisha' said.
"I.... don't think so." I squinted a bit and thought that she looked familiar.
"I'm Nisha. We were in the same Alpha(foundation year) class together."
*Dumbstruck me just stands there agape like a stupid fool*
"Uh... flubber blubber blubberbjilinumlaiyalk...." I said.
"HAHA. Sit down. sit down. It's so nice to see you again!!"

Here's the absurdity of the situation:

I have an academic advisor who was a former classmate in a degree course that I technically haven't finished. So I'm a student, and she's faculty staff.

Now that's not so absurd on its own(After all, I'm sure it happens quite often in university with people extending their courses). You'll need a little background in order to understand how I suddenly appeared in a real-life rendition of a Franz Kafka play:

5 years ago, I was a motherfucker. The absolute most prank-playing hyperactive button-pushing authority-defying noise-making disruptive freshman possible. I had just entered university, and due to an unscheduled, mind-switched-off crazy moment during orientation week(that I will not elaborate upon), I was probably blacklisted by the security department, and practically every freshman of my year knew who I was even before class started.

So then we were assigned to different groups(of about 30 students) according to the results of an English aptitude test that all freshies had to take. I know for sure that my group contained all the cunning linguists and verbal magicians, because I was in the same class, too. On the first day of class we had to choose a class monitor(glorified photostat coolie), and guess which infamous person got nominated and won overwhelmingly?

Yes. Guilty as charged.

This did not in any way detract from my purpose in life at that time: To rule every social circle I joined, and to have as much fun as possible.

I succeeded in both. The year 2000 was probably the best year of my life. In the context of the classroom however, my being class monitor did not prevent me from causing havoc at all, especially during English class. Double entendres and scathing public pranks were the norm in my group(incidentally group #6, which was naturally renamed Group Sex by us), with almost everyone an immensely intelligent and talented (albeit attention-seeking and scandal-loving) individual, especially the guys.

Everytime we were invited by the lecturer to give our opinions on something, everyone would wait in anticipation for the fun that would undoubtedly ensue. The topics would invariably be steered to sex by all and sundry, with discourses on the advantages of being female(multiple orgasms) to public debates on the sexual prowess of whichever male classmate looked most vulnerable that day. This happened during actual lessons! In avowedly chaste and Muslim Malaysia! In a class taught by a young, very pretty lady! I don't remember the lecturer ever finishing her teaching plan for the day.

During a project involving presentation skills, my group presented Hairgra(viagra for bald men, I kid you not) and I even dressed up in drag for a skit once. We were whores for novelty and shock value, and I was the worst one of them all. It got so bad that whenever the lecturer asked for an opinion and I invariably raised my hand, she'd give me a "please khai tzer, don't do this to me" look. And when she reluctantly pointed to me and I'd stand up, you would hear giggles from the girls and sniggers from the guys interspersed with "nah. nah. Sure come again wan." and "look at him, he's going to start." I am not exaggerating.

So that brings me back to THIS story. Nisha was hands-down the quietest person in my group. Among such loud, colourful, unsavoury characters, you could say that she was almost invisible, even among the girls. I don't remember speaking more than 10 sentences with her during that year.

So naturally I'm feeling funny now. The irony was my intention to show my most charming self today to a former Group Sex classmate. I even dressed up and worried my nuts off about being late, stepped in cat shit and almost drove a mid-level executive off the road, all to impress my academic advisor. It would DEFINITELY not work with Nisha. She has seen first hand all the shenanigans, lurid outbursts, and unspeakable behaviour that I've exhibited in class, and for an entire year too. I gave up and just plopped down into her offered chair, not knowing what to say. Compounding my embarrasment was the fact that I didn't even recognise her. It was awkward to say the least. I looked longingly at the window and quelled my urge to jump out the 3rd floor in shame.

"So I've got to evalute you...." Nisha said with a kind of embarrassed voice. Imagine the quietest girl in your class evaluating the most prolific outspoken happening one. It's weird isn't it?

"Sure. sure. Go ahead. Do you have to like, ask me questions?" I asked with a huge smile.

"Yes. It's just for the faculty. I have to do this, you know........?" She tried to explain. Nisha felt bad, which she shouldn't have, but it was reflex, I suppose, at inflicting bureaucratic pain on a friend.

I told her no problem and reassured her and said ask away and promised to myself that I'd be the nicest person to her today since she was so nice to me and I almost didn't remember who she was.

So she asked questions like do I have co-curricular activities on campus, how many subjects I was taking, etc. etc. Basically questions that didn't apply to me since I was just waiting for the university to let me graduate. I answered her the best I could, the urge to come up with 'creative' answers not even appearing once. I told her what my situation was like and that I was already doing mobile applications at a tech start-up.

All the while I couldn't stop smiling because it was so nice to....... well, not see a familiar face since I didn't recognise her at first, but meet with a former classmate. There was an instant familiarity at meeting an old friend that gives you a warm fuzzy feeling.

"So Khai Tzer. How would you rate your presentation and communications skil.... Oh, never mind, I know about your communications skills. They're excellent!"She gave a short laugh and I had a good laugh at that, but I was embarrassed all the same. I didn't think talking lots of cock in class constituted the ability to communicate, but who was I to dispel the myth? :)

So anyway we chatted for a while after that, I asked about her Master's programme and how was tutoring like, and then I left, happy to have met her that day.

All the way during the drive back, I was shaking my head to myself and repeating endlessly,"Fuck man.... fuck. Fuck man..... what the fuck." and banging my palm on the steering wheel. I'm still mortified that I didn't recognise Nisha. What kind of friend is that?

Fuck man..... fuck.

And now I've got to wash off all this #@$(***#)_)))@#$&&&#&!!!!-ing cat faeces from my car. Fuck.

All cats should be shot.