Beauty

Sometimes, when you're jaded and raw, when you're depressed and down, when you start feeling cynical, defensive and untrusting of the big bad world around you, you encounter something of immense, absolute, breathtaking beauty.

Immediately you feel better. You feel awe and wonder. You're intrigued that such beauty can be created that you couldn't even begin to imagine. But most of all, you're filled with delight and joy and the random, petty worries of humankind lift off your shoulder for at least that moment. But even after the event has happened and you come back to reality, you're recharged with hope and optimism, you remember the great things you will one day achieve, and you wait for the moment when nature, once again, presents you with that one fleeting moment of awe-inducing splendour.

Taken on the morning of 14/05/05, at home(kekayaan estate) , before we left for Fraser's Hills. Click for the large version, to clearly see the mist shrouding the valleys.

All Cats should be Shot

I mean it. And with a shotgun so that it explodes.

Have you ever had a cat make mating noises outside your window at midnight? Just when you're nodding off? Yeah? You know what I mean? You're nodding your head? As I said, all cats should be shot.

I think all cat lovers are masochists who like to be tortured and ignored. They give love to an animal that manipulates them, has no obvious usefulness, and treats you like their the one feeding you, instead. Sometimes they become all clingy and like to slink between your legs with their tail up and rub their dirty bodies all over your calves. You can't even kick them because they're in between your legs. You have to squash em, but then they'll just scratch you. All cats should be shot.

Cats nowadays can't even catch mice properly. I've seen cats run away from rats. Useless animal. They just make mating noises and breed so that your entire housing estate is filled with mewling pussie... uh, felines. And then they like to shit on the ground right beside the driver door of your beloved Perodua Kancil, so that you have to take a huge step over a stinking pile of cat doo directly into your car. It's like trying to get into a Lamborghini, only you don't get the fun of driving fast. All cats should be shot.

I asked my dad what was the best way to poison cats, and he laughed. All cats should be shot.

My dad hates cats. There was one who tried to get slinky-rubby on him, but he was smart, before the fucker came near enough, he kicked the cat as hard as he could. To his surprise, the cat clung to his shoe and scratched furiously at his jeans instead of flying away like a football. As I said, all cats should be shot.

If I'm made mayor of Kuala Lumpur/ prime minister of Malaysia, I will decree that all cats be collected in a central location, lined up, and shot. If the cat has been known to make wailing noises like a child when it's horny, it shall be shot with small grain to prolong its pain.

If I am made President of the SPCA, I shall lobby the government, the WWF, and the United Nations to declare all organisms of the Family Felidae be outlawed. All cat owners shall see psychiatrists to have their mental health evaluated.

As I said, all cats should be shot.

My Dick is a Ring!!

Try to stop laughing after you read this. Partial transcript of an online conversation I had with Elaine, the hilarious Darling Bud of May:

.......................
elaine : oh let me tell u a joke
elaine : how much of japanese do you understand?
elaine : do you know of the 'mangkuk' and 'cincin' joke?
khaitzer: no.
elaine : hahahhaa
elaine : ok...let me tell you..in japanese...'mangkuk' means 'pussy'
elaine : 'cincin' means 'dick'
elaine : hahahaha
elaine : so when the japs come..which ever jap that is close to us...we tell them..hahahaha
khaitzer: oh. cincin i know.
khaitzer: mangkuk means pussy?
elaine : we take a ring out..and say 'korewa cincin'
khaitzer: WUAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!
elaine : take a bowl out and says 'korewa mangkuk'
elaine : then we put the ring in the bowl and say
elaine : 'CINCIN IN MANGKUK'
elaine : hhahhahaahhaa
khaitzer: *bangs head on table repeatedly*
khaitzer: WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH
elaine : they fucking dont believe us that its really bowl and ring in Malay
elaine : hehehhhehehe
elaine : good one eh? hahahaha
elaine: ahh..the ironies of life and language......
..............

My friends finally grow a backbone.....

......and not just a front-bone from being fucked in the ass.

I swear, this is the funniest thing that has happened in a long long long long while. Just when I thought it was impossible, my good friends straightened up and got balls. Read my post "my friends are a bunch of sissy boys" here or just scroll down below to understand what happened.

And I finally finally get a response. Not the one I wanted - which was for all of them to wise up, apologise for being faggots, shout at me with all sorts of insults for calling them faggots, and then finally get their ass into action so that we could go to Phuket for REAL.

Instead, all I got was a scathing, under-the-belt personal attack by my good friend A, who insisted that I name him instead of alphabetizing my 'friends'(whatever makes you happy bro). So A is Sheng Wai. Please replace his name in the post below to get a truer picture, and harder laughs. The other pussy faggots have not put in requests to be named, and so they shall remain alphabets.

Anyway, Sheng Wai, who will be UMNO chairman one day even though he's not an earth-prince, got so fucking pissed off that he questioned the generosity of my parents, derided my financial situation, painted me as a useless do-nothing with unbelievable skills in picking up women, and in general laid out all the things that he hates about me but never told me before.

*please hold on, I'm laughing so hard that I'm holding my stomach*

We now know how he feels about me. If you want to know what sort of a person one of my best friends think I am, please click here(note, you need a friendster account to see it) to visit his friendster homepage, in which he uses the 'about me' column to launch his vendetta to destroy my reputation.

I never believed that I would see the day when Sheng Wai would lose his temper. I've tried goading him and pissing him off many many many times, all to no avail. Today, I have pissed him off. He typed that long treatise in friendster, obviously in great anger and a loss of control of his emotions, and basically attacked me with anything that he could use, especially in the first few sentences where people are 'giving me face' and his attempt at sarcasm about me being a 'professional blogger'. Note how angry he was. I posted this after midnight, and in less than 12 hours I get TWO scathing personal attacks from a person who deosn't really like reading or writing. Personally I think he's a fan of my blog, but that's just the narcissist in me speaking.


He posted this on the bulletin board later, obviously in a fairer mood and even injecting his humour(It's pretty funny. Read it. I like the part about me being a rich spoilt kid):

Date:Monday, November 21, 2005 9:55:00 AM
Subject:A friend of mine
Message:
What I am writing is now basically Part II of what I wrote in my profileSo if you 8 poh 8 kong wanna know what's going on , you can check them outSome of you might not even know what' going on after reading the first part, don't worry that's probably because you're just too stupid.

Anyway Cont...

Now let's back track alittle, good friend cum professional blogger KT mentioned earlier thatfaggot friends of his are too pussy to take the diving licence with him during the 3 weeksbreak and now complaining to him bout not asking them to come along. You think everybody so free like you? Wake up late late, go to the gym whenever you liked , pick up the girls so beautiful that none of your good friends ever seen before, eat healthy food, go travelling overseas whenever you liked, good supportive parents, have loads of money to spend as a student , go diving whenever you like?

While you're having fun out of your ass there, Ppl or rather faggot friends of yours are working, scratching their heads over failed designs, getting drunk all night, earning hard earn money to support their lifestyle, their daughters? But that's besides the point, Money is never an issue isn't it my dear friend? Yes, I agreeSo for those who are experiencing what I wrote above, YOU mr BLogger KT has no right to condemm them(you probably have the right , it's your mouth anyway_ .

But if you're refering to those who're free/not working ppl and also rich ppl that is whining , then to hell they go.That's about it for now

Love

Sheng wai

P.S : Though stupid, KT remains a good friend and I used the word stupid cuz I cant usethe F work, it's censored.

Since I'm not bothered by his attacks on me(I'd say it's fair since I called him and the rest, a bunch of loose-bowelled sissy boys), I'll come back to my main objective, which was to give them all a virtual slap to the face and get them as worked up as I am about taking the trip.

So far there has been a strengthened conviction from Sheng Wai to get his diving license, but other than that, no attempts to play a part in organising the trip. As he says,"If the trip is on, then it's on." But of course, it falls to the lazy vagrant who lazes around all day, wakes up as late as he wants, and picks up beautiful chicks he's never seen(i.e. me) to organise the trip, since he has so much free time that he should bloody well do it, while hard-working people like him don't have the time for all this nonsense, he has more important things to do(like get drunk and make money for some daughter of his).

I won't comment on his arguments about us taking the diving license years ago. Let's just say that I am right and I'll tell him to his face, it's too boring for an outsider to understand.

And then the first Yahoo message I got this morning was from C, who sent me this message:

(11:17:48 AM): faggot #3 will confirm the phuket trip with u end of this week

hehe. Someone has a sense of humour.

So in an attempt to wake them up, all I've done is:
1. Get them royally pissed-off at me.
2. Get my reputation destroyed. Thank god not many people read my blog or my friendster page, or I'll have so many beautiful women after me for being such an evil person.
3. Semi-serious promises to buck up and think about the trip.


All in all I'd call it a royal failure. Anyway I won't be holding my breath about the Phuket trip.

"screw you guys, I'm going home."

My friends are a bunch of sissy boys.

I am - to put it in a nice way - pissed off.

Why?
Because the faggots I decided to befriend once upon a time finally came out of their macho shell and decided to behave like the bent-over loose-bowel indecisive faggots that they are.

I can't, for the life of me, imagine why I got such faggot friends. Perhaps I was too popular in a past life and God wanted to teach me humility(and frustration and patience), or perhaps I have a personality that somehow attracts fucked-up faggots like the fucked-up fuckers that fucking profess to be my fucking friends.

WHAT?
Once upon a time(two months ago at most), I had the bright idea to bring all our friends together for a mad-ass holiday getaway to Phuket, Thailand. The main objective was to get my group of close (hah, yeah RIGHT!) friends together for a jaunt to a BEAUTIFUL tropical island to dive, eat, drink and make the acquaintances of a large number of attractive young ladies with loose bikini strings and morals.

I had the romantic, sentimental image of a bunch of good friends getting drunk, gorging on the wonderful Thai food, diving and gaping in awe at the stuff we would see underwater and babbling like idiots about the experience afterwards. After we arrived back on shore, we would make friends with a whole bunch of friendly foreign girls and proceed to have as much crazy wild uninhibited hedonistic fun as possible(in general, not just with the girls)..

As a rational, normal-thinking human being that has friends(or think you do, like me), tell me: Is that a bad idea for a good friend to have? I mean, if I were your friend, and I suggested we gather the rest of our friends and have a good time in Thailand, would you go,"Damn it Khai Tzer. I hate you. You want me to have fun? What kind of friend are you? Fuck off man, I really don't like people trying to get me to enjoy myself. And btw, I don't really want to see the rest of my good friends that I haven't seen in ages. You can tell them to shove it up their arse! I mean, maybe if you begged me or licked my balls or something, I might just think about it, no no, not agree, just think about it...."

It sounds crazy doesn't it? I swear to you there are no hidden catches I'm not telling you about. I have no ulterior motive(what ulterior motive can there be?!?!) other than to get them together and enjoy ourselves absolutely in Phuket. I thought out the entire thing to perfection:

1. The plan was to go in March 2006(enough time for them to apply for leave and clean up whatever's in their inbox)
2. We were going to book AirAsia very early(the prices were, are still are dirt cheap)
3. We were going to have the time of our lives(How could we not? I mean, it's Phuket!)

And yet, AND YET, my 'friends' managed to give me the sort of attitude like I detailed above. At first, I put it down to the usual chinese reflex of not automatically agreeing to anything, though it was a bit of an insult to do that to a supposed good friend. No matter, I brushed it off, sure it was just me being sensitive about feeling like I had to beg them to get them to have fun. But as one after another started acting like pussies, sissies, faggots, pondans, and motherfucking useless idiots with no use other than to be fertiliser for the earth when they finally die, I decided I'd had enough attitude from them, and I'm going to tell them fuck off, you can suck your own dick. I don't have the time for this.

At first the faggots were all enthusiastic as shit.

"WAH!! Phuket ah? GOOD GOOD! Damn long never go holiday liau! When are we going?"
"Seriously ah? And we have cheap tickets still? No need to think liau lah!"

etc. etc. You get the idea. And then...


..........their inherent pussiness started to come out. A few fellers started to talk with high-pitched faggot voices, their anuses loose from being fucked by men, and gave me the excuse that they didn't have a diving license. Note that all the involved parties agreed that scuba diving was god's gift to humans, and that we started discussing taking the license a full TWO years ago; Meanwhile, actual, concrete plans to get the license were in place at least one year ago. None of them had financial problems with regards to this. None of them were deprived of free time as they once enjoyed 3 week holidays at a stretch. In short, there were no acceptable reasons for not getting the license then.

NO MATTER. Being the ever-accomodating person that I am, I didn't even bring this up! I actually gave them options and would have gone out of my way to ask for them about getting the license. What did the pussies do? They behaved like below. I absolutely cannot believe it:

"But I also don't know where to get the license!" Says A
"Anywhere also can get lah. Don't worry." I reply. I was thinking, Dude, relax, it's just a dive license. We're not asking you to procure heroin. I got my license by asking around myself. It's not like the divemasters were hungry for business and begged me.
"You ask for me lah!" says A, with the sort of tone that sounded like,"What the fuck?! You didn't ask about it for me, and you have the balls to come and ask me to get the license? You didn't do your homework and you expect me to go diving?!?"

I swallowed it down and told him kindly,"okay okay I'll ask for you." I didn't even curse him mentally. I just took it and scolded myself for being too sensitive. Now that I think about it, is it my fucking business to ask about it for you? If you really wanted a dive license that bad, wouldn't you be the one asking me for contacts, how much it costs, where, is the instructor good, and all that sort of grilling? Nada, not a word, just the unspoken assumption that I was an asshole for not asking about it for him.

It didn't end like that. B, otherwise known as faggot number two, and I had this conversation many many many times:
".... But I'm stuck in Penang. How am I going to get a license?" Said in a plaintive tidak-apa tone that irritated me a bit. This was the first person I spoke to about seriously getting a license together ages ago.
"Why don't you join A, he said he'll be going in January to Tioman to get his license," I said.
"When is he going? Is it confirmed?"

What am I, his secretary?!?!?

"I think it's quite confirmed. Why don't you call him and ask when is he going."
"Eh why don't you tell him when you see him. Ask him when is he going."

*WHAT AM I? HIS SECRETARY?!?!

"Sure. sure. I'll tell him. But you call him too aight?"

I had this conversation with him, in one form or another, with this syntax or the other, on the phone, on IM , email, and all other possible form of communication short of telegraphs and smoke signals, many many many times.

When I saw A, I had this conversation with him. This conversation was also repeated many many many times.

"Hey dude. So how about the Phuket trip? Confirmed about the diving?" I have to give him credit that he was very cool about when we were going. I told him the date, he told me should be ok and he would confirm with me, and he did almost immediately. I respect him for his decisiveness doing that.
"I think January should be free lah. I will ask C about joining me for getting the dive license. Don't want him to blame me for not asking him."

I laughed at this, and told him that he was a fucking politician(he is, and I tell him that all the time), and that he was more worried about his friends blaming him than about them getting their license in time, like I was.

"So when do you want to go?" I asked.
"You asked for me already or not?" He would reply in that unctous 'little boy, you haven't done your homework so don't come and talk to me about it' tone. He wasn't bothered with it, like proactively asking me whether I had asked about it for him. He always used it as the standard defensive answer whenever I asked him when he was going to get the license. Should I give a damn about him losing out, not seeing the greatness of the ocean? No, but I did, and told him that B asked me to ask him when he was taking it.

"You ask for me first lah!! How I know?" He would invariably reply. "You ask B to call me lah."

WHAT AM I? HIS GODDAMNED FUCKING SECRETARY?!?!?!?

"Okay okay."

It was almost surreal the same conversation I would have with A and B concurrently. Each asking me to pass messages to the other like they never contacted each other, although they were from the same town, and both owned a modern appliance called the mobile phone. What's more, they each had the other's numbers!! Amazing! And I would have the same conversations repeatedly with each of them, each saying that the other didn't call him. And this was all over the issue of selecting a date, can you believe it?

I was the one urging both of them to go. I was the one who would call my diving contact. I was the one who had to ask each of them when they would be free. I would be the one to urge one to confirm with the other the date. Do I have to do this? Please read the last few paragraphs of this post to learn how I feel.

Let's talk about C, otherwise known as faggot #3. This one takes the cake. He was the champion procrastinator, champion excuse giver, and champion 'fong fei kei'(beg out, abandon) at the last possible moment. The best part was he wouldn't give you a straight out NO. He would never say No, I'm not interested, or even a more diplomatic I don't think I can make it. He would say,"I'll let you know later." and then he'd never let you know. That was his way of turning you down. We learnt about "I'll let you know know later." after a few confusing conversations ended like this. I didn't even bother asking him to join us beyond the one and only cursory invitation, because the result, as I expected, was that he steered the conversation into something else and never ended up telling me whether he was even interested or not. The one thing I managed to pin him down on(miraculously) was WHEN would he finally take his diving license. Now listen to this, it's hilarious.

"My mom won't let me."C, who is 24, says with a straight face, and the amazing thing is, it's not the first time he gave this excuse!
"What? Are you still in kindergarten?" I actually told him this to his face the last time I asked about it, manners be fucked.
"She says that this year is a bad year for me to go. She's been reading my fortune/seeing omen/ whatever that his mom does( I'm never really sure)".
"Dude, you gave me this exact same reason since the first time we were supposed to get the license together."

Now can you just imagine how loyal I am to my friends? If you know me from university, I am an absolutely evil person, and will pick on someone's faults and laugh and make fun of him until his soul is broken. People who know me from uni are always extra-wary when I am around. One friend labelled me "extreme fun, but too provocative."My sister knows this, but she still can't get used to it. She made the mistake of complaining to me that her friends laughed at her for looking like Chicken Little with a tiny body and a big head and the specs, expecting me to commiserate and sympathise. What did I do? I was driving when she told me this, and I immediately launched into the Numa numa song and waved my arms spastically like Chicken Little in the theatrical trailer....... I am EVIL. But imagine my loyalty and sensitivity when a grown 24 year old MAN tells me, in all seriousness, that his mom won't let him do something, and I not only refrain from laughing until the walls come down, but actually just brush it aside, preferring to take issue with him using the excuse too often instead.


"I know I know," he says kind of sheepishly. "I'll talk to her."

And thus the actual point of the conversation, which was to determine whether he wanted to join us on a fantastic trip to Phuket, was magically diverted into the realm of the occult and mother-son issues that Freud would have a wet dream over.

I stick to my conviction of not inviting him again.

D was a pussy sucker. I mean that not only literally, but figuratively. He would die for pussy. As the cantonese say,"waii haii sei." or "die for cunt". Once he had a girl in his targets, he was relentless in his pursuit and the convincing of his willingness to suckerifice for her. That's how he wooed his women, but it's not the issue here though, the issue is that he currently had another target that he wanted to prove he would die for, and thus friends were a temporary irritation. They only became assets on a lonely night when the girl was otherwise occupied and he was faced with the prospect of having dinner alone. I didn't even think about asking him.

E was the only solid yes. He took his dive license with me, agreed to the March date, and was only waiting for the rest to confirm so that we could go diving.

This story isn't finished. The last time I brought up the topic with B, the fucker actually asked me if we were going diving, as if we never had this conversation before, and said,"but i don't know how to dive. Why don't we go to Bangkok instead? Hehe." I neglected to tell you that he and I were the first people to discuss actually doing this trip.

Needless to say, I was less than pleased, and gave him a string of colourful expressions in English and his native HockChew, questioning the morals of his mother and her mistake in giving birth to a uselss piece of despicable flesh like him. And then we had the same conversation all over again.

Then 2 nights ago, (s)he told me,"You guys go ahead lah. blah blah blah pussy talk blah blah....."
What a pussy.

F, Faggot sissy-boy #4 gave the excuse of having a lot of work during that time(what the fuck, you know you're going to have so much work that you can't plan 5 months in advance to rearrange the work for a total of 4 workdays?) I spent a lot of time and managed to convince him to come along. It's not a surprise that he and B both work at the same company, it seems to hire only pussy sissy boys.

Now here's the deal. I want to go on a holiday. I love my friends and want them to come on holiday with me, so that we can actually have a good time together. That's my selfish motivation. Forgive me for wanting to share something great with my good friends. Do I deserve being made a sucker of by the people that I call my friends, having to cajole, convince and almost beg them to join me on what would probably be a really fun time together? Am I really that desperate?

Hell no. HELL NO. The 'bangkok' statement almost pushed me over the edge, and B actually bailing on us was the last straw. I don't give a fuck anymore. I'm not going to ask anyone, I'm not going to do shit. And by the way, if you don't get it yet, we're not fucking going to Phuket anymore.

I'm going to plan a holiday by myself, I'm going to a great place, meet great people and have a whale of a time, and I'll send them all postcards addressed to "dear faggot boy#1/2/3/4......", and laugh at them for living like stupid slaves and wasting their youth while I was out seeing the world, and then I'll wait for the first poor faggot boy who's stupid enough to tell me in a plaintive girlish hurt tone,"You're not right loh! Go to Argentina/Chile never ask/bring me!!" Boy I can't wait. He'll get an earful of beautiful words so rich, creative, and multilingual that when I'm finished he'll be Leonardo da Vinci.

As Eric Cartman of South Park would say in a whiny irritating voice,"Screw you guys, I'm going home."

Cockroaches... YUCK!

Fucking cockroaches. I hate them. I absolutely, totally detest cockroaches. If you know me, you'll know that there's nothing else that I would describe with the word 'hate'. Contempt, derision, at most dislike. But cockroaches fill me with this loathing and disgust so absolute and final that I cannot imagine something else that can define the word 'hate'. There's nothing else like the pure fury and urge to kill that fills my body whenever I catch a glimpse of this horrible animal.

I also have a phobia of them. In other words, I'm scared shitless of this disgusting brown insect. My heart goes pounding and the adrenaline starts pumping everytime I catch a glimpse of a cockroach scurrying across the floor or a wall towards the nearest dark corner, feelers waving left and right like two disgusting filthy hairs. I actually feel the onset of nausea and an unnatural urge to run whenever I see one. It's ludicrous the amount of terror this little thing creates in me. And I mean it: Pure, abject terror. To put it into context, this is from a person that loves roller coasters and extreme sports. I'm not afraid of most insects(unless they're dangerous), and I'd readily pick one up if I'm sure it doesn't sting or bite. I've picked up giant foot-long millipedes and let them walk on my forearm, I've played with tame pythons and grass snakes, I've caught ferocious-looking(but docile) rhinoceros beetles to scare girls and young cousins, I'm not afraid of snakes as long as they're safe, I'm not afraid of monkeys, strange dogs, birds, rodents, frogs. I actually have an affection for spiders, even if they're the size of my palm and hairy.

But a cockroach... Oh, there would be nothing as physically terrifying to me as a cockroach that was allowed to touch my skin. But it's nothing compared to the hate I have for it. As much as it fills me with uncontrollable fear and nauseating disgust, it pales in comparison to the fury and hatred it generates whenever I catch one at the corner of my eye. There has not been one cockroach that I have seen(in my living spaces) that has been allowed to continue living. Every one that I see generates an unwilling disgust in me, then my body sprints towards the nearest newspaper, rolls it up and smacks again and again at the offending cockroach until I'm sure it's dead. To understand the extent of my phobia, I don't even like to be holding the newspaper when it's touching the cockroach, like when I'm picking it up to throw away, or when I smash down on it. I once smashed one so hard that it's juices burst out the rear of it's abdomen and spattered the wall. I almost vomited. But it gave me immense satisfaction to know that it was, in fact, dead.

My disgust for cockroaches come from the knowledge that they're absolutely filthy things that carry disease. I know that it's a disproportionately large amount of fear and hate to carry, and I can't explain it. After all, rats are dirty, but I have no compunction touching a lab rat, for instance, if you guarantee that it's clean. But give me a lab-reared, sterile, spotlessly clean cockroach and I would still have that same horror and disgust and urge to grab something to kill it. I can't not equate cockroaches with unbearable filth, rot and disease.

What made me write this post? A huge specimen was crawling on my table just now and happened to crawl under a plastic bag just as I noticed it. Without even thinking, my hand smashed down on the plastic bag hard, making the thing spurt juices and roll over, twitching. I felt such immense satisfaction that I killed it, so immense that it blanketed my fear of the thing.

As I wiped the thing into the plastic bag and cleaned my table, I saw that it wasn't dead yet and was beginning to crawl out of the plastic bag(not surprising, they're amazingly resilient, and even after chopping off the head, it only dies because of starvation), so I laid the plastic bag on the marble floor, took a 500g metal weight and smacked down hard with a 'chang!' sound on the bag as it met the hard floor. I felt like a fantasy hero slaying an orc: Spent and resigned to killing the fucking creatures, but sick of the duty nevertheless. I will rid myself of this disproportionate phobia one day, so that I can finally say with a clear conscience and mind that I fear nothing and I hate nothing.

Show-Off eats Humble Pie - 2nd Episode

Someone, I'm not saying who, tried to show off his new hops by dunking a basketball. Stupid dumb cunt that he is, he courageously rised above the rim, slammed the ball as hard as he could and hung on the rim for a moment..... only for the rim to reject his dunk and his fingers slip, and he dropped back to the ground in a crouch. Nevertheless, it was an impressive show of force to the playground regulars who started saying stuff like "oh shit, I'm not going to guard him." and "motherfucker did you see him jump?"

So he swaggered off to the side, basking in the questionable glory of basketball amateurs as he took in the mutterings and awed whispers. What they didn't know was that he was already fucking embarrassed to see his dunk rejected, not to mention the fact that his thumb was injured, numb and bleeding from grabbing the rim at an awkward angle.

*I JUST TOOK OFF THE PLASTER YESTERDAY AND IT STILL STINGS. :)

Oh well, at least I had a great session, winning every pickup game and even forcing their two best players to double-team me. I RULE!

At the 'Fitness Club'

*cough cough fitness club WUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH*

I'm sorry, I just think the spin doctors have done it once again. The worst part is the general Malaysian population- with the exception of a few cynical, highly intelligent people(e.g. El Nino) and a few cynical, stupid, loud-mouthed dumbasses who criticise everything whether its good or not - buy the bullshit. Regular people actually use the terms 'fitness club' and 'fitness centre' in general conversation, like proper commercial idiots. 'Fitness Club' my ass. Turn around and bend over, fools, so that I can insert my insemination device into yours. Idiots. WUAHAHHAHAHAHA. But I digress.

Most people know of the sex bunnies and the stud muffins crawling the gyms. Here are the sub-types of the creatures I've noticed:

1. Gym Shark.
The salespeople/managers of the club. Usually female, they're unbelievably ugly, persist in wearing inappropriately revealing clothing, and have a permanent "My, what large teeth you have" smile on their face, like Bruce from Finding Nemo. You pity the wide-eyed newbies who come in, vulnerable and defenceless and ask about "what packages you have?" and cringe in resigned horror as they're ushered, by that horrible money-faced look, unknowingly, into the clutches of reluctant organised physical exertion and a monthly cut in finances. The money-face is so blatant that I feel like slapping them whenever they're bored and deign to walk around, surveying the territory, and uttering a pompous, overbearingly fake 'how are you' like mafia overlords, expecting the gym denizens to answer "I'm fine" with a submissive smile. I told the gym shark at my gym today that I felt like shit because I had gallbladder disease, and I didn't know what was the rash on my inner thigh, maybe she would know.... and watched the fugly bitch scurry for cover like a marine invading Normandy on D-day.


2. Cock-tease.
The antidote to the sex bunny. I suppose I could tolerate the sex bunny, since she actually shows an interest in me and gyrates hornily on the stairclimber for my amusement. Which red-blooded male doesn't like watching tight bodies gyrate, right? Her one fatal flaw is that she probably looks hungrily around like that at every fit guy. I'd like to believe that she's falling madly in love with me, but in her eyes, I'm probably replaceable with any other reasonably fit-looking laddie. In comparison, the cock-tease plays it like a typical ok-looking girl, having to resort to devious tactics to attract attention, as opposed to the really pretty ladies, most of which are really nice people(to me at least). The cocktease doesn't look too good, but she's not bad-looking either. If there were no other women in the gym, I'd probably try to catch a glimpse of her in between sets.

She attracts attention by wearing really loud, and maybe revealing clothing(if her body isn't really nice) and likes to use the machine with the most men nearby, usually with wrong technique and a uselessly light weight, pretending to ignore all the men around her while checking them out sneakily. In reality, the men don't even notice her, because Ms. Sex Bunny is gyrating her tuffy tail on the stairclimber. And then, when she gets fed up because she's not getting any attention, she will choose one 'mou ku'(innocent) guy and blatantly stare at him. If he ignores her, she'll continue staring. If he gives her a friendly smile, like to every other gym patron, she'll give him a huffy sneer like he was eyeing her non-existent cleavage, and proceed to ignore him. I'd like to be able to choose one of this stupid women and track her life with cameras until she gets married to see what kind of sucker is hooked by her mediocrity and how she managed it.


3. Aunties!!!
Don't you love them? Cheerful, gossippy, middle-aged women with loud voices and over-permed hair. The best ones are those who don't even bother with the pretence of getting fit, and treat the gym like the social club that it is. They'll reserve places for each other in the group classes, and chatter and gossip when the class is over, over a steaming cup of instant coffee or tea at the lounge area. I suspect that more than half have sexual fantasies involving their young male instructors.


4. Desperados.
Usually newbies, middled-aged/elderly, overweight and terribly out of shape. Dressed in formless, drab-coloured loose clothing in an attempt to hide the extra weight and shape. They have a panicky, distressed look on their face like they're facing an executioner whenever they come face-to-face with the machine area. I think they have this feeling that if they don't work out right away they'll keel over and die of a heart attack anytime. So in a bewildered state of panic, they rush to the nearest machine, pause uncertainly, look around like a meerkat out of its hole, and try to push the buttons and levers to see whether the machine can be sat on and hurry hurry oh how am I supposed to use this thing hey wait there are instructions!

THEGRIPSSHOULDBESHOULDERHEIGHTUSETHEYELLOWHANDLESTOADJUS....oh fuck i don't have time to read this don't care just hantam only ohfuckohfuckohfuck I need to work out RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!!!

Then they proceed to use the machine with poor form, too heavy/light weights and rush from machine to machine without any system or order, desperate to use every machine so that they can get fit. Poor things.

5. Muscle Uncles.
Don't laugh! They exist. Some are ex-bodybuilders with pumped up but saggy chests, others decided late to take care of their bodies and just progressed to its natural conclusion, the pumped-up fat look(since they've managed to build muscle but can't for the life of them manage to reduce their bodyfat percentage, giving them very little muscle definition). They only wear singlets since t-shirts will cover their(to them) amazingly beautiful bodies.

There's a 40+/50-year old muscle uncle in my gym who walks around in his singlet with his elbows out to the side looking like a gorilla(it's due to improper form and/or not using the full range of motion while pumping iron) with a big(but not cut) body, with his head turning from side-to-side all the time, admiring himself in the mirror, unbearably proud of having a big body and checking to see who's checking him out.

I bet he worked hard for it, but uncle, you're not going to look like that when you're 60. You're going to have your saggy tits, and even now you don't have a fit body. You can't stretch for nuts and you've got no definition, so there's no need to feel so proud. I've got a way better, stronger, fitter, more flexible body, and I don't feel the need to wear singlets and squeeze my biceps every two seconds. Trust me uncle, they're attached and won't run off to elope with someone else's calf muscles. If I really wanted to bulk up, I'd down protein powder and in two months, you wouldn't have a chance against my delt caps! But then I'd be big and useless on the basketball court, and eventually I'd have saggy titties like you too.

This is So Wrong - Part I

I was at the gym today, doing twisting crunches on a Swiss Ball, when I overheard two apparently 'macho' dudes. I was concentrating on the burning pain of the fifteenth rep, when I suddenly overheard the word "relationship". As I twisted to the right for the 16th, I saw the resident musclehead - a chinese guy I had seen at the gym with a massive, toned upper body and an impossibly small waist and legs (damned fit in other words) - discussing his 'relationships' with, get this........ another guy. My mind went click and it felt like I was in the twilight zone. Here were two apparently hetero-looking males(but you never know since the gay ones actually are more macho) discussing touchy-feely with one another, and the musclehead actually used the word 'relationship'!

Grimacing with pain from my first set, I sat on the ball and faced away from them, pretending not to hear, but catching the musclehead go on and on about "my relationship this, my relationship that, my last relationship lasted 3 months, I have no time for relationships now...." I started to get this really icky feeling on my skin, like I had been raped by a man and needed a shower. It was tres horrible.

The word is like an extra-long four-letter word to me. I definitely didn't need to hear it used in every sentence. I mean, I barely ever use the word, even with girlfriends. Come to think of it, if I ever use the word, it means I really like the girl enough to discuss my previous romances with her(OF COURSE it's only when she gets that "ooh-I-like-him-so-much-I-have-to-know-his-carnal-history" phase that girls have. I'm not dumb enough to bring up the topic of ex-girlfriends for fun). But these guys were discussing it like it was the happiest thing in the world to do, and with another guy, no less!

maaaah-hai....

Mental vibrator

I saw a book by Danielle Steele at the bookshop today. The title was "IMPOSSIBLE".

I thought of the all the rich, tall, dark, handsome italians/doctors/architects/artists that have thrusting manhoods and fall in love with heaving bosoms and breathless moans and thought to myself,"Aren't all your books?"

"Hi. I'm a moron. I'm from Paloh."

Here's what a typical person from Paloh is like: damn sampat, has a distinct lack of social propriety, talks in hokkien-accented mandarin at the top of his voice, likes to blow water (exaggerate his abilities) and gabs nonsense all the time. A typical Paloh conversation goes like below(and I am repeating almost verbatim. This really happened).

"Wah, the lenglui come already," one idle old uncle overheard shouting to another at the top of his voice, even though the other idle uncle is just next to him.

*The "lenglui" is almost as pretty as the rear end of a syphilitic hippopotamus.

"Hallo uncle." butt-ugly 'lenglui' calls out in hokkien accented mandarin.
"WAH... The lenglui just talked to you!" Another idle uncle standing next to them shouts out.
"Wah. I should be so happy!"Dumbass uncle #1 replies, bellowing like a donkey.
"She talked to me!"
"Yes. She talked to you!"
"yes! She talked to him!"..................

*continues ad infinitum, until I was so in awe of them after listening to their witty, intellectual repartee that I departed to play basketball at the other end of the court. I swear I could feel my brain cells dying. In case you're from Paloh, what I'm trying to say is that people from the place are backward, rude, stupid, and are irresistible gossips and busybodies.

In case of famine/nuclear holocaust

Honestly! Who buys apples by the crateload? My father, that's who. If the communists decide to invade, or aliens come ala War of the Worlds, we've got nothing to worry about. In addition to this, we also buy WHOLE salmon, bucketloads of fresh produce, and tons of fish, shrimp, meat, and dairy products. No wonder we need two refrigerators and a deep freezer. In case that isn't enough, we also have enough canned food to last an Ethiopian village for an entire year.