Sunday, April 24, 2005

Kepala angin (airhead)?

Let's have a short quiz, because I said so. So kiddies, take out your 2B pencils and start taking scores.

Statement: "Man, she's such an airhead."

If you're a male and have heard a female say that about another female you're with, you get 10 points. If you're a female and have said that about someone, you get 10 points too.

Extra 10 for the male if you asked why is she saying that but you don't understand her explanation and she gets exasperated and rolls her eyes. For the females, if you have rolled your eyes at the male who doesn't get it, you get a nifty 10 points too.

If you get 20 points, you deserve a chocolate chip cookie which...oops, I just ate. Too late. Hahaha.

Now, to females who say that, I still don't get it. Just what exactly is the meaning of an airhead? I never get a very satisfactory answer. Because it always goes like a 20 point winner in my quiz:

Female: Why you with that girl one empty one her head. Like what oni.
Me: Like how?
Female: Well, you know, airhead.
Me: Can explain more ah?
Female: Hai~ you know one lah how!
Me: Like what? I don't understand one.
Female: Heiyer...typical *rolls eyes*
Me: What???

So then I thought, hmmm, maybe all men should do something to ensure that their girlfriends aren't airheads. Maybe their first dates can go like this:

"Hey, what's up? Wait, what's this in my pocket...oh wow!!! A Mensa test paper! And it's still unanswered! Oh, look, I got a 2B pencil and a timer! Now I'm sure you'll just LOVE doing this, so what say I set the timer at...30 minutes, and I'll let you do this while I go check out the bookstore for awhile. No asking around for anwers, aye? Er, what? You're not doing this? C'mon, it's a Whole Load Of Fun!!! No? Look, just do it...I said do it. Do it. (Do it, like Ben Stiller in Starsky & Hutch.)"

Haha. Just kidding. I know what it means, though I find it weird how these kinds of statements are usually reserved for the cute ones.

But look, all the intelligent, independant woman with some kind of substance are usually taken up, okay? So is it so bad for us men, to, *ehem*, lower our standards when the field is a little dry, so to speak? =D

A million points and a hug for females who roll their eyes at the end of this post.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Die Malaysian drivers die

Malaysian drivers should be rounded up, buried up to their neck in sand near the shoreline, then left dead, to be drowned when the high tide comes in.

One of the signs that show you require a generally low IQ to get a license in Malaysia is the Fall In Love With Me Honk. They’ll see an attractive looking female walking down the street, then they’ll honk at them to get their attention. Man, aren’t they the Romeo’s, because don’t we all know there’s nothing that makes a woman’s heart race faster than a guy in a car honking at you. Who needs cheesy pick-up lines when you can sit in a car and just honk at them?

DUDE, wake up! What did they seriously believe would happen???

“Oh, wow, mister, what an unusually romantic honk. I can detect your testosterones all the way from here! Now come on here, hunkie, let me get naked and spread my legs while sitting on this fire hydrant, and you can make me honk!”

A newsletter should be sent out to them, explaining this is not what a woman means when they say they want a guy who knows how to press their buttons, because whatever that button is, I’m pretty sure it’s not attached to your car horn.

I also have this suspicion that in every Malaysian car, you are required to install a hyperdrive button, which is activated when they see a pedestrian attempting to cross the road. If you usually go around without a car, you know what I mean. When a driver notices that you are attempting to cross the road, they’ll immediately start to speed up, either hoping that you are an Olympic sprinter who can outrun their car or they think that if they reduce pedestrians, the road would be a better place.

And don’t get me started on those crazy pricks on motorcycles. They think having 2 wheels is a license for them to drive on the pedestrian’s walkaway whenever they like, terrorizing kind old women and innocent (and cute) pedestrians like me. But it’s okay, because I have learnt to accept them. I made the “Open Arms Policy”, where when I see a motorist coming my way, I’d outstretch my arms at their neck level, and wait, with open arms…

When times were bad

I used to live on Ramly burgers and only ate twice a day for a few months because I didn’t have money, and had a horrible nicotine addiction at the same time. Due to that, I faint a lot when I walk, which made me get acquainted with the floor more than necessary. Sometimes I faint just standing up. I’d buy a Segway to help me move around, but if I have money I’d need food first. The Maslow pyramid. Necessities first.

Near the end of the month, sometimes only on the 20th, I run out of money for both food and cigarettes, but thankfully this guy at the local sundry store would be kind enough to give me some cigarettes, so I can forget I’m broke and hungry. What a nice man.

I’d then break out the old piggy bank where I kept loose change, all in 5 cents and 1 cents and spread it out on the guy’s counter to buy myself some food, which always makes the guy look amused. He never counts the coins when I give him though, and sometimes when I’m short, which is always the case, he even lets me take some food on loan too. “Nanti seja bayar bos, bila ada duit,” he’ll say. I don’t know what I’d do without him and my sister who gives me money too sometimes.

I usually buy these cheap bread there, a pack of Twiggies sometimes if the coins provide (glucose, yum, yum), and Maggi because I’d cook it with a lot of soup which fills you up quite good. Come to think of it, Maggi should be given some kind of special humanitarian award from UN for helping Malaysians survive, because I know I’m not the only one who has to live on flavoured empty carbs near the end of the month. Somehow I developed this habit of hoarding, because I’d even keep ketchup from takeaways if I could buy it, and I’d always eat food my friends leave behind, like the end of breads or a half-finished meal. Sometimes even a nearly finished meal. Beggars can’t choose.

At that time I also would go to this mamak stall in Wangsa Maju, BRJ restaurant, which had Astro, buy one teh tarik then stay there all night just to watch football. The guys there now recognize me because every half an hour or so one guy would come to kira my drink, and seem baffled to know I’ve had the same half-drinked teh tarik since 8 the night before. They’d walk away and shake their head, because if you sit there for 10 hours, you’d probably need to order more than that.

Oh, thank G… Ginuwine for the better days.

Amber Chia should be shot

Seriously. I remember there was once when I couldn’t pick ANY. DAMN. MAGAZINE. without seeing her damn mug in it. It makes me feel like picking another kind of magazine, snap it into a Magnum and pop her.

Puh-leez. What are you guys thinking?

“Oh wow, she’s Malaysian. Oh wow, she’s the Malaysian Guess ambassador, let’s put her EVERYWHERE!”

Magazines. Billboards. The side of the road. Everywhere. I won’t be surprised if one day I pick up a toast and see her likeness on it.

It would be okay if it was Jessica Alba, see, because such a girl deserves to be in every book you see in the world. Schools should have a subject dedicated to her, because kids need to know such a wonderful woman exists. Her birthday should be celebrated worldwide, and GQ should be given the Nobel prize for making a pictorial of her (I actually read that edition in the KLIA bookstore, where husbands also took a slight peek at it before their wives came and pull them away by the ear).

In fact, she should be the new Pope.

I’m actually considering to believe in god, because it is impossible for a woman like her to happen by chance. The same could be said for Nigella Lawson, because how often do you know that the cook is hotter than the kitchen???

All hail Jessica Alba.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Er, what the fuck?

Ok, who died and made her the blogging guru???

Seriously, she has to be stopped. Next she'll send five gay guys on my doorstep to recreate my blog.

"Ok, mister sister, that post will not do. Na-ah."

What is this? A communist webspace? The gestapo online? Does she have an armband with an X instead of a swastika on it for "No Good?" Will we be put in a concentration camp with dial-up computers (14.4 kbps, if she's nasty) which blocks all dark background colours and immediately cancels posts which have rhyming end words?

Dear G...Goat, or something.

Oh, anyway, hello guys.