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*
Monday, April 17, 2006
How to know if you were born between 1980-1984,
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.
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.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Sheng Wai Comes in Public!!!
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.
Friday, March 31, 2006
All-Night Bender
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!
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!
Thursday, March 30, 2006
I Heart You Guys Too!
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!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Proven: Pork fat is good for health!!!!
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?"
"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?"
Monday, March 06, 2006
Prank of the Day
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!
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!
Friday, March 03, 2006
Oh really?
In an inspired piece of altruistic wisdom, our considerate and caring deputy prime minister advised us in one of the National Propaganda PublicationsThe 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 Honda5 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.
"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
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.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Brokeback Week
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.
You have been warned.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Ode to the Mac
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.
Friday, February 24, 2006
March of the Penguins
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.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Breaking News: BIRD FLU!!!!
[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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Walking wounded
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.
"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
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.
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Best Scrambled Eggs in the World
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.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Super Man.
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.
Monday, February 06, 2006
The Obsession With Virgins
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.
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.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
You're from Tonga?
Does anyone notice that there's an international hottie scale? Your attractiveness depends - to a certain extent - on your nationality and race.
French? Ooooh.. Mais bien sur! Je veux couchez avec toi! You don't even have to ask that corny French phrase. Italian? Definitely. Spanish? In the blink of an eye. You're lucky if you're a male citizen of any of these countries. Just go "Yue 'ave lovly aizzz" and wait for the chicks to ask where you're from. "Moi? I yam Fghench." and you're bound to get laid at Patong beach. Everybody loves Frenchmen. Except the men from every other country in the world, of course. This is my own opinion, but I think that the French, Italian, and Spanish men rank highest on the international hot scale.
If you're British, however, you will practically own the Asian niche market. The notion of being British is enough to ensure you drown in poontang if you're frequenting any club in Kuala Lumpur or Singapore City. Your age/ looks/ wealth/ manners don't matter a whit. You just have to be white and British. And it's much better to be English-British. It's apparently hotter than being Welsh or (god forbid) Scottish. Honestly, the women are equally stupid/materialistic in both cities. But then that's just the jealous Asian side of me grumbling when I see a 40-year old paunchy bald guy behaving lewdly with a trio of giggling Chinese hotties making slutty eyes. You don't trick me, I've been to the UK, and I know you're all a bunch of phonies.
So anyway, if you're British, work the Asian market. KL, Singapore, Hongkong, Bangkok, Shanghai. It's worth it. Oh, and it works if you go to America and Australia, too. But you have to remember to elucidate properly. "Bri-Tush" instead of "Bri-'ish". Speak the Queen's Own and it's like a direct button on American G-spots. Do NOT, under any circumstances, do the same in Europe. Your neighbours are wise to your tricks. They hate you, especially if you're English. British men rank at the bottom of the Hot Scale in Europe.
Next, the Japanese. You guys are hot, too, anywhere in Asia where there are young Chinese. Doesn't matter if you're male or female. Everytime I utter the phrase "my japanese friend.....", whoever's listening will invariably cut me off with "is he/she cute?"
Fuck you man. Your grandfather probably tortured my grandfather. Now you're CUTE?!? Diau!
Hehe. Just kidding. Japanese girls are so AWESOME!!! Especially the obedient "hai... hai....." ones. *sigh* Anyway, if you're Japanese, prey on the Chinese everywhere (as you have done historically. Only now the Chinese girls will willingly give up their poon to you). Just watch out for your Korean neighbours. Those rough-sounding buggers are chasing your ass on the hot-scale.
Hot-male countries: France, Italy, Spain, Brazil, Jamaica, England, Japan, South Korea.
Hot-female countries: Japan, Thailand, China, Iran(yes, Arab ladies are undeniably gorgeous, but sadly inaccessible) Sweden, Russia, and any other latin-american country. All men believe that latin women have perfect bodies and a feisty attitude. Hot!
Next, un-sexy countries to originate from if you're male: Scotland, India, Cambodia, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Mexico, Vatican City, any Arab country, and any country that ends with -stan. Apparently dark skin isn't that hot. Doesn't help if you're associated with illegal foreign workers or religion too.
Un-sexy countries for girls to be born in: The Phillipines, Germany, Australia, America, The UK (but personally I love English women. A lot of them are cute, they're sluttier and they hunt you instead of vice versa).
Unsexy countries for both sexes: Israel, Singapore, any Pacific island(Hi! I'm from Tonga!), any African nation, Laos, New Zealand, Malaysia.
Yes. Face up to it my friends. Our pussy government, after almost half a century of independence, still has not established a national identity, and as a result, we men are stuck when it comes to easy romance overseas. Write to your member of parliament and urge him to pass legislation demanding the propagation of the image of virile Malaysian men. If Marlboro can do it, we sure as hell can. Of course, it's much harder than making the world's largest Roti Canai. But no pain no gain right? Also, when we're out of the country, be more daring! Boldly pick up women. Even if it doesn't work, make sure they know you're Malaysian. Don't behave like the pussies you are back home, tiptoe-ing around women and accompanying them shopping at MNG and carrying their bags and "fetching them from work". LOL. The last one always cracks me up.
But I know ONE country where Malaysian men are hot, because they've never heard of us, and I actively and succesfully propagated that image as one of the first they've ever met. And it's a country that is REALLY filled with knockout women. In that place, Malaysian men OWN the hated French. But I'm not going to tell you where. Ask me in person, and if I think you're man enough, I'll tell you.
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.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
My friend Botak
I have a confession to make: Hanging out with Botak, my good friend and basketball kaki, is a certain recipe for disaster. All it fucking needs is a catalyst and a trigger, and BOOM, the rest of the world will regret we ever met.
Imagine if you will, two of the most hyperactive, shameless, thick-skinned, infinitely mischevious people EVER, and then imagine that they both have voices loud enough to hurt your eardrums if put to use, imagine also that they both love women, have a common penchant for playing practical jokes on everyone nearby, and the need to disturb anyone nearest to them whenever they get bored. Now imagine that they click like fucking lego blocks the first time they meet and discover that the other is as crazy as he is.
Imagine, finally, that both are immensely intelligent but so kiasu and have balls so big there is not a dare that you issue that they will back down from.
That's what it's like with me and Botak.
We only haven't gotten into serious trouble till now because of my marginally cooler head and his natural, intangible charm with people and his ability to judge them. It's like walking on the far side of the knife edge, and I've had to rein him in sometimes when a fight was imminent, but only because I knew the other guy would fucking die if it happened.
When we're having fun however, OH MY GOD WHAT A BLAST!!!!
We were at The Chick Showroom again tonight after dinner together, ignorant of the incessant calls in the back of our minds that we were hanging out way too frequently, endangering society at large with our overactive minds and instinctual need for havoc.
He had just told me how he had come down from his car to stare down an idiot driver he had given the finger to. I in turn told him about my brush with danger today when I also middle-fingered this moron driver who cut into my lane very dangerously and realised suddenly that there were 4 of them in the car, all mechanic types. Too late to regret, since I had very obviously given them the finger, I drove past the 4 punks with the most malevolent, bengis, trouble-making stare I could conjure, in order to make them think twice about stopping the car and rearranging my beautiful face. Luckily it worked and they backed off.
Oh, before this, you should know that the idiot Botak was having the time of his life on the ballcourt waiting for his turn to play, mercilessly teasing these two young girls who were watching the game(we didn't know the girls). After they ignored him for saying "HI!!!!" in an extremely loud, obnoxious kwai lan voice repeatedly, one of them walked over to talk to a young kid on the other side of the court. The fucker Botak immediately shouted from this side,"OI!!!! THAT GUY ALSO YOU WANT AH!!!! I'M MUCH BETTER LAH! I GOT MONEY! I GOT CAR! HE GOT OR NOT?!?!?"
She ignored him of course, but Labiq, a friend of ours who was plainly shocked at such public mating behaviour, managed a loudly whispered "wei. don't like that lah!!" in mortification because he was sitting beside Botak. Finding a new victim, Botak turned and scared him. "I tell you, luckily Khai Tzer playing ball. If he's beside meeeee.......... we're going to have SOOOOOo much fun! WUAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!" Labiq promptly shut up and turned green in horror, afraid that I might decide to abandon my ballgame and join in the "fun".
So anyway, we were at the Chick Showroom, and the next table had a party of four, 3girls 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.
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
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.
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