Simple Simpler Simplest

To all my goyims (part 2)

2006-02-06T22:23:00.000+08:00

Ah...my goyims, is it not beautiful?

Look, look out the windows now (if you happen to live near a Danish embassy in a Muslim fundamentalist country like Syria or the likes, that is.)

Open your eyes. Do you not see all these angry Muslim mobs, burning buildings, issuing death threats, all because we released the caricatures of Prophet Muhammad with a bomb on his turban to imply that Islam is a violent religion?

Ah, yes, it is us, the Jews, who have masterminded this. Do you not know that we are the string pullers behind all the important newspapers in the world, which is an important part of our propaganda machine?

Not only that, we also own HBO, Star World and MTV, where we teach people that it's cool to be friends with homosexuals. Our leader has taken a liking to rap recently, which is why you see so much of them nowadays. I can't really stomach them, but our leader apparently is getting in touch with his ghetto side. So much so, he has released a rap album, using his "hood name," Big Daddy Jew. His first single, "I stabbed the messiah (but I didn't see him resurrected)" should be a big hit, considering that it is produced by the Neptunes and features Semitic Doggy Dogg, an up and coming rapper from back East.

It's a hot track, homies yo. Remember, buy the original.

By the way, where was I? Oh yeah! We have power! Power! We just have to make a cartoon depicting Muslims as anything we want, and they'll prove us wrong by being exactly what we depict them as!

I nearly inserted a picture of Muhammad in a Jordan jersey, but can you imagine if that happened? Muslims will start practicing basketball, and soon enough, there'll be Muslim's in the NBA, dunking over Yao Ming and Shaq! Just because they want to prove us wrong! (Or right. I don't know. These Muslims confuse me.)

And I can't accept that, nonono. A Muslim MVP? Ptui! Not in my Jewish controlled league which is meant as a distraction for the world so that we can use the time they wasted to get a headstart in planning how to take over the world via subliminal propaganda!

Ah, that is all for now, goyims. Leader, I mean, Big Daddy Jew is calling. He wants me to go "pimp" his car. Ah, the tyranny of being an assistant.

Until then, shalom.

Yours truly,
Rabbi Carcinogen

The stupidest thing I have heard this year

2006-02-03T12:08:00.000+08:00

While helping a friend who drank too much and is green all over her face, I helped her to a ditch and told her to throw up. Somehow, it couldn't come out, so I gave her some suggestions.

CC: You know, try sticking your finger down your throat. It'll help you throw up.
Friend: I was bulimic! I know what to do! Shut up!
CC:...
Friend: Urgh...bwargh...greeeaauuh...(supper and last night's food comes flying down the drain)

Oh, so YOU'RE not irritated by the haze?

2005-12-27T18:05:00.000+08:00

I think I've been living in Kl a little too long.

I went up to Genting, you know, mountains, clean air, trees? Yeah, so, while I was on the way there, I encountered mist. And I know I've been living in KL too long when I said:

'Whoa. Haze."

It took me a 5 second rethink before I realised it should be, "Whoa. Mist."

Hm. And since we're on haze, let me talk about it some more.

So I was reading The Star that day (support Eyeris, y'all), and there was this short news on the Reader's Digest survey on things that irritates Malaysians most. So I scrolled down the top 20, and I was surprised. Why? Because the haze isn't even in the top 20!!!

What the fuck is that? Hard to open plastic wrappers irritate us more than the haze! In fact, let me quote it, "the survey found that hard to open plastic wrapping on an item annoyed people tremendously, with 40% of respondents labelling it as either extremely irritating or irritating."

Are we stupid? Are we brainless? Now that irritates us more than smoke all around? And they complain that people smoking in public irritates them? They think I'M irritating? Smoking in public places is higher than the haze! That's stupid. So, it'll be like, it's okay to make smoke permeate your body via all available orifices, reduced visibility on the road, cause lung, throat and nose problems, watery eyes, hardness of breathe, disrupted work days, but it's NOT COOL to smoke in public, AND when the smoke is blown away from you like all respectful smokers in my class and calibre do?

What more, bad dvers irritate us more than haze? I was going, what? Even cussing is higher than haze! Motherfucker. What the hell is wrong with us Malaysians?!

Don't you know what kind of message that sends to those Indonesians who caused the haze?

Malaysian: Yeah, I know you caused the haze, but that's alright man. Just make sure you keep to the speed limit, keep a respectful distance from my car and always, always keep to the left lane when you're going slow. Ooh, and don't swear. Because, whoa, if you do any of this, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Get your priority straight, bitches.

I love the cops.

2005-11-27T03:32:00.000+08:00

But I have a feeling they won't love me when they see me wearing this badge...

PS: Just trying to remind them of their duties, y'know...

PPS: If you're a Malaysian and you don't get the relevance, you suck!

PPPS: Man, won't my friends kick me out of their cars if I ever wear this badge in public...

PPPPS: I've been itching to make this badge the moment I saw the "Saya anti-rasuah" badges on the police force. Anyone know where I can go and make some customized badges like these?

Neck Breather's Club

2005-10-27T21:18:00.000+08:00

I went to the ATM this afternoon...

Q: ATM? What for?
A: Play tetris.
Q: Ah.
A: No, you idiot. Withdraw money.

Anyway, while I was pressing the digits for the pin code, I felt a weird pressing feeling behind my neck, like a nose. I turned around, and right behind me, was a nose--attached to a guy who had his face about 2 miimetres away from me, the same distance I was from the screen when I watched Jessica Alba's scene in Sin City.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who enjoys breathing up people's neck, as evident by the 4 other guys behind him who are practically an erection away from making contact with each other. These people, (proud?) members of the Neck Breathers Club AKA the NBC mystify me. How could closing in on the guy in front of you (and BREAAAATHING on his neck) make him go any faster? God knows I'm trying my best to withdraw the money. In fact, I'd open the machine up and just grab some 50 ringgit notes and walk away, but apparently that's illegal in all 14 (15?) states and 2 (3?) federal territories in Malaysia, so, like everybody else I have to push in the pincode, enter the amount, get my card, make some tea, then get my money, so I'd appreciate it if you would keep your distance.

My view is not mine alone, by the way. According to a recent survey done by the C Carcinogen Times, 94% of people "do not enjoy being an inch away from being violated in a public place when there's so much fucking space goddamnit would you move away a little?"

Of course, that survey is false, and I inserted it because I have nothing better to do, so we can ignore it. But according to an unofficial survey I did this afternoon, with the sample being 4 people, including me, I found out that 100% of people "hate having somebody breathe down your neck when you're lining up on the ATM god knows I'm not moving any faster." (Survey also indicated that 100% of the sample find chocolate chip cookies "tasty and somewhat satisfying")

So, you see???? The numbers back me up! Back the fuck up! No grinding in public! The line will only move faster if for some god forsaken reason Jessica Alba happened to line up behind me and said, "Let's get married for no particular reason," to which I'll reply, "Ok," which will lead to us having hot, wild, passionate sex and then opening a joint bank account, thus reducing one person from the line.

But until that happens, or quadruplegic bears can form a string quartet then release a record then perform at Carnegie Hall, let's keep our distance. At least 20 feet, or enough space to fit in 4 Sharifah Aini's and 1 Siti Nurhaliza, belly to belly to belly to belly to (some) bosom.

You cannot beat your old man at his own game

2005-10-09T05:42:00.000+08:00

My dad: (Revs up old second hand Mercedes which broke down 23 times 2 hours after being bought.) Bah, masuklah.
CC: Ini? Bukan hiasan seja ka ni? Oh...(Looks around car. Fake enthusiasm.)
My dad: (Sarcastic smile) Masuk. Jangan banyak cakap.
CC: (Closes door) Bukan sudah mati enjin banyak kali ka benda ni? Kalau mati tengah highway, macam mana?
My dad:: Itulah saya ambil kau. Supaya boleh kasi sorong ni kereta nanti. Kau ingat kenapa?
CC: WTF%&^(&amp;^(*&$(!*& (Shuts his yap)
Dad: (Smug smile. Tallies the score since the day I was born: Dad: 4762. CC: 2)

Don't wanna get embarrassed? Make sure you have friends from other races

2005-10-05T04:26:00.000+08:00

Ok, my housemate, J, bless his soul, is a nice guy. He's a Chinese guy, who went to sekolah rendah Cina, sekolah menengah Cina, kolej Cina...I mean, The Premier Affordable Private College AKA TARC, and so he doesn't hang out that much with Malays, which he told me, so he told me he's not really sure what we Malays do/know/read/watch, and that is relevant to this story.

Well, last Monday night, I was watching Project A on tv, you know, that Jackie Chan movie where there was this classic scene (to me, at least) where there were these gangsters chasing Jackie, and they were all going around in bicycles through back alleys and Jackie pwned them all while keeping his ass on the seat 90% of the time.

So there I was, laughing at this movie eventhough I've watched it nearly 7 million times, which always makes it seem as if I've never watched it before. And that was probably what went through my housemate's mind, because he then came and sat on the couch on my right and asked me, "You know that guy ah? quite famous one."

Now on the tv there was Yuen Bao and Sammo Hung in the same scene as Jackie, and I thought, "(read this with a reverbing voice, by the way) Well, maybe he's asking me about Yuen Bao or Sammo, they're not that famous here, he can't possibly be talking about..."

"JACKIE CHAN! Very famous actor!"

And when I heard me tell me that, I just laughed and laughed...because god! How could he think I don't know Jackie Chan! Everybody in Asia knows Jackie! I practically grew up imitating his moves! I jumped off my cupboard and tore the sole of my feet off because I wanted to be him!

Laughing at him, or rather, his comment probably was too much, because he seemed pretty embarrassed after that, which made me laugh even more. He probably thought that he offended me, which isn't true, because he just seemed like those innocent guys who rarely mix with other races, and thus don't know what I know.

I bet he doesn't know that growing up, 3/4 of my friends are Chinese, because I happen to do things which always makes me bump in with them. Like playing basketball, passing my tests so I always get into the top science classes...you know, the usual Chinese jig. I don't have that many Indian friends, because, according to my Indian friend Pre...I mean, Master P, the government don't care about Indians and so they keep them in the "ghetto's". By the way, Master P always does the Westside sign to me, and I always wonder what does he mean by Westside. Klang?

Egads. But I digress. I wanted to say to J, "You bet I only listen to XPDC and Kromok right? Eh, and tomorrow how about we indulge in some Chinese delicacies like mooncake. Then later you can talk about the hot Malay bitches that you saw today because frankly you think we're aight rite?" but that guy got enough for one day. I'll let him go this time.

Aw, cmon J! It was funny! Funny! Don't run to your room. Cmon man! We'll mumble some Jay Chou lyrics today! Bonding! Bonding!

Ah, god, I love that guy.

Asians are obsessed with your mother's pussy

2005-10-04T00:06:00.000+08:00

Let me repeat the title: we Asians are obsessed with your mother's pussy. Yes, it's true, your mother!

Think about it. Anytime you get pissed, things don't turn out like you want, or you meet some jerk, what do you say? (We'll stick with Asian languages, to help preserve our culture) Machibai. Pukimak, KNNCCB (fuck your mother's pussy, or something like that). The few most common swear words used in Malaysia, but only because we outnumber the Indians.

Is the pussy so sacred, just saying it is offensive? I was saying pukimak since I was a kid, without knowing what it means, but I love the look adult's get when I say it.

Oh, and let me bring you down my memory lane for awhile for no good reason. Like everyone, I found out about the functions of our ehem-ehem's via friends, and, uhm, documentaries. But besides finding out about the recreational functions (like writing your name with your pee...), I also finally found out where I came out from: the pussy.

Now that was important for me, because if not, I'd still believe my mum's story (This is true, by the way. Me believing it, not the story, you dolt). When I asked my mum where I came out from, she didn't tell me the stork story. Instead, she told me......

...

...

...

are you ready for this?

...

...

...

Now take a deep breath, and sip your drink.

...

...

...

She told me that she CRAPPED ME OUT.

Just like that. She was doing her business, she got up, turned to flush, then hey, guess what I found in the toilet bowl today, honey. I thought, "Hey, no wonder I'm brown." Which, for awhile, made me wonder if Chinese people had yellow crap.

Hey, I was 5, cut me some slack. And my mum was nearly correct too, by the way. She was only 2 inches off.

Ok, now back to cussing.

You see, Asians, we're too obvious when we're cussing. All we ever do is point out your mother's pussy. Why can't we emulate the Americans? They get pissed, they shout MOTHERFUCKER!

They don't just say your mother's got a pussy. They know you know your mother's got a smelly pussy (how do they know? Hell, even I don't know. Do you have a habit of smelling my mum's pussy? Ewww, you're gross). They imply it, subtly. They're saying: "We both know your mum's got a pussy, and it's smelly, and we're gonna make you FUCK IT!"

Where's our manners, people? Be more subtle next time!

Why mixed marriages don't really work here

2005-09-08T21:43:00.000+08:00

So I was out eating at this restaurant near my place, and there was this couple chatting at the table next to me. Since I was eating alone and I'm a Malaysian, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on whatever the hell this couple was talking about.

Turns out they were talking about mixed marriages, and they were using this slang word I've heard a few times since I've been in KL: Chindian.

Chindian. Chiiiiiiindian. Like it's some kinda "new" phenomenon. "Oooh, Chindian. That's funky. Never knew that could happen. What do we call them? Where do they belong to?"

How come other people don't do that? You hear about white people marrying black people, you don't hear them calling their children Whacks. Well, some actually call them Oreo's, but what the hell.

I'm starting to think this could be the reason why people here don't seem to be open to mixed marriages. Can you imagine the names?

Say...Indian guy marries a Malay girl...they get little Inlays. Well, I guess it's wonderful if you want your kid to be a dentist.

Malay guy marries Chinese girl? Little Machi's. It's like a green light to do dorky hand signs all your life.

But do you know what must be the saddest? When the Machi kid marries that nice Indian guy AKA bai who goes around on a motorcycle selling roti: little Machibai's.

I mean that kid ain't gonna get no playmates. He'll meet some other kids at the playground, and they'll probably start talking about what race they are, with their mummies nearby...

Inbreedered kid 1: I'm Malay.

Inbreedered kid 2: I'm Indian.

Mixed kid: I'm a Machibai.

Inbreeder mum 1&2: You foul-mouthed kid!

Yeah, I see it now.

For my Nokia 3310

2005-08-16T04:09:00.000+08:00

My Nokia 3310 is broken. Yes, I'm using a model that is THAT old, yes, I found it at an archeological dig, and yes, I can SMS in Sanskrit.

I know I should be getting a new phone sooner or later, cos I've dropped this thing about as many times as Rafidah gave away AP's to her buddies, and I'm living in the year 2005. But I just have so much memories with this phone.

The endless times I've pretended to have a loud conversation on it when I'm in the train just to see the faces on the other passengers ("yeah, it was a little chunky today"); the hours I've played Snake on it when I'm bored out of my mind; the stupid useless messages I've sent to my buddies ("dude. i need ur help" "wut?" "my sinks full. can u do my dishes?" "SCREW YOU").

Yes, you will be missed, homie.

Pour a little liquor for my Nokia. May you be in the phone ghetto in the sky, in the bosom of Alexander Graham Bell.

Amen.

How to solve the problems of the Malays

2005-07-16T22:27:00.000+08:00

CC: anyway, u watch tv lately?
CC: "umno: malay agenda"
*Censored*: no, what's it about?
CC: um...supposedly umno gonna have a meeting about malay agenda
CC: again
CC: i dont know why
*Censored*: oh, it's because the umno vote season is coming in
CC: hahaha
CC: shit
CC: does it matter?
CC: i mean, how about telling malays to start marrying chinese, indians and other bumis
CC: that way, the problem would be spread out
*Censored*: hahaha
CC: and ppl would feel a lot better having a malaysian problem, instead of a malay problem
CC: wait, i gotta write that down

See? If the government would've bothered to think laterally, they'll know that if there aren't any "pure" Malays, then there can't be any Malay dilemma! Only a Malaysian dilemma!

This post has no structure

2005-07-04T17:10:00.000+08:00

I read that Prince Harry had to go through a DNA test to ensure that he really is Prince Charles's kid. Well, duh. Have you seen Prince Charles? No way in hell you'd connect him as his daddy. Look, if I was the queen, if I'd look at Charles, then at Harry, I too would go, "Man, that ain't right."

Now let's see what's in the news today, The Star placed a huge ass picture of the national cheerleading championship on the front page. For what? Look, who gives shit about cheerleaders? All they do is shout and bitch and jump around. "Look at us! We're jumping in tights, making pyramids and spelling words! Hooray!"

Then there's the picture of the All-Boys group who won third. On it were the boys, in tights, with placards saying "FIGHT". Fight? For what? Gay rights? I thought the government would've stopped the boys competition already by now.

Heard the Sky Kingdom cult got raided. Supposedly, unlike our government's beautification unit, they don't have the proper permit to spend millions of ringgit to build useless 10-foot high monuments.

Anyway, Negri Sembilan is now promoted to the Super League. Wow, that's awesome. They got promoted from worse to bad. That's an improvement. Woo hoo! Pop the champagne's, people!

Hell, you gotta pity the guy who got beaten up by 4 Kuwaitis because the kid mistakenly identified him as his sodomiser. But hey, that kid's new here, ok? It's not his fault all of the Chinese people look the same to him. And I think the rapist was stupid in sodomizing a boy. I mean, that kid's Kuwaiti. You know you don't rape a Kuwaiti boy. Take a girl, because then they'll kill her instead.

Why do they have "For Men" signs on products? Shouldn't we automatically know what smell is good for a guy? When was the last time you've seen a guy going to the soap rack, smelling a soap, then go, "Ok, that one's for me. The jasmine and ylang ylang totally captures my essence."

***

Shit. I'd like to go for a swim, but I can't. The water in the apartment's swiming pool is emerald green. Maybe they should rename it the communal bathtub, that'll be more apt.

And it's really freaky seeing these dudes wearing Speedo's the size of a large thong sashaying around the poolside, with the expression on their face as if somebody just stole their new tri-pack of Speedo's. Even weird is seeing these guys who do nothing but get into the pool...and then talk. Right there. In the middle. In fact, from their tone, I think they were having some serious conversation.

Now wouldn't it be great if world leaders did that too? "Damnit, Kofi, get in your Speedos. North Korea's gonna launch a nuclear strike."

You guys are fucked up

2005-07-02T21:44:00.000+08:00

Seriously.

I know this, because ~~I'm vain~~ like to know the kind of people who come to my site. So I installed the statcounter to keep track of you guys.

And I believed that healthy, sane people would get here.

But nooo...

I checked the keywords that some people used in the search engine which lead them here. What did I find?

"Amber chia naked nudity."

I mean, damn. I hate that woman. I hate her skin, her face, her nose, her lips, her hair, her lips, her eyes, her lips her lips her lips can I see somebody else's lips for once? If it was, "amber chia hung maimed blown up ", hell, I'll be cool with you.

But I thought, nah, letting her fans read about how much I hate her is cool. So I let that slide.

Next, after I wrote about the cutest niece in the whole wide world (mine, of course), guess what keywords lead them here?

"cute kid paedophile"

I'll be damned. So some sick bastards come here. And I thought, well, at least I showed them that liking a kid doesn't need to include carnal needs. So I let that slide too.

But then, this happened today:

What the fuck?

captain fuck girls pps?

Who in their right mind would search for that? Is the picture of me fucking, penis going in and out a pussy, hips flexing and thrusting, legs pumping, face screwed up like the girl I'm fucking had belacan then farted turn you on? Does the picture of me doing the PPS girls drive you wild, make you want to wank like silly, screaming oh yesyesyesyesyesyesohyes CAPTAIN! (say my name, baby, say my name)

I mean, yeah, I know I'm sexy and all that *COUGH* *COUGH* but did you seriously think I'd actually post pictures of it, or do a tell all? Not that I've ever did any PPS girls. Non-PPS girls, perhaps. But I do remember this one blog where this girl was complaining about a guy with a small penis but the stamina of a racehorse. Hmm...

Man, whoever you are, who happened to use Google in Turkish (group is Gruplar! Yeni!) you must be one sick freak. BUTBUTBUT if you're a hot woman with a banging body and wouldn't mind explaining it to me over dinner, wine and some, uhm, back massage with baby oil and light ambient music in the background, I might let this slip.

Maybe, just maybe. No guarantees here.

Where my balls at?

2005-07-01T10:42:00.000+08:00

...

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK.

Like, HOOOOOLLY FUCK. It's not like seeing Jesus, damnit. It's like seeing Jesus, Buddha and the whole religious deity Dream Team ('96 BC, baby) with their visions of hell and lightning bolts of destruction and scimitar of glory coming down to slamdunk atheistic idiots like me to hell and back.

Have you read her???

I mean, almighty Baal, this woman makes me feel that I've been misusing my cuss words. It's like making left turns all your life with your car, then somebody points out that it can turn to your right too. AND AND AND it can reverse

Whoa.

Or like when you were 15 and you find out how you can use the ALT+TAB button when you're surfing porn on the internet to change your browser windows to cover your porn windows, then when your mum comes in to check you, you nimbly switch it and slip your dong into your pants in one motion, instead of slip dong in, click mouse to change window, in that order.

Whoa.

Or like finding out that Arjen Robben only had one testicle

Whoa whoa whoa! No wonder the speed! Can you believe his aerodynamics?

And then you hear shouting from inside your pants, then you open it and you see your balls revolting, wanting to find a new owner, waving tiny little placards, claiming that it feels ashamed to be connected to you.

This woman ain't a woman. You know Ashanti and Topanga? They're just her overly developed balls. Hell, her balls are so massive, they grow on her chest so they can show off to the world just how massive they are. (By the way, which one's the left one, which one's the right one? Hello? Topanga? You sound like you're on the right.)

I can't cuss anymore. I don't deserve it. Saying motherfucker feels juvenile for me. It's like when you were 7, and you thought saying penis was funny, because that's how grown-ups say wee-wee (hehe, wee-wee).

See???

I have to learn how to properly cuss again. I'll have to learn how to include it in every single sentence I use.

I'll have to use it more properly and more often, so much so that people will go, "CC, you bitch, you're using a proper word again."

I have to. Because if not, my balls swore they will leave me.

I wish I'm making this one up.

pure pwnage

2005-07-01T02:00:00.000+08:00

so liek this guy liek he totally pwnz right so he made liek a show about pwning n00bz? n u really gota check dis 1 out cos in dis 1, dis guy they liek made a parody of kill bill, n it was so cool how teh master when he said, "if u eat like a n00b, youll be pwned liek a n00b." lololol.

but uh u gona need liek a program to liek dl teh bittorrent, and teh new divx which liek totally pwnz. teh movies theyre liek 100mb+ rite so u gonna liek need a broadband conection 2 dl it n if u dont haev a broadband conection then u must be a n00b lolol.

Old friends and bachelor pads

2005-06-26T12:40:00.000+08:00

Went up to meet an old friend, Z, last night. In fact, still meeting him. This is currently written from his computer while the dude's passed out on the bed. I don't remember us taking anything that strong last night...

Wanted to have breakfast, but was too lazy to make the 10 minute walk to the mamak stall. But, heck, who cares? I'm sure everybody knows the nutritional values of 5 cigarettes and a glass of wine in the morning right?

I'm staying over at his place, because my place happens to be at the other end of Klang Valley and the ERL's closed, at what? 12? Even if it was open, there's no train back to my place, and trust me, there really is nothing to do at KL Sentral.

Z's living in those smart apartments in Cyberjaya, where you get your own server with your apartment, and all kinds of alarms, where lights and sounds will alert you when something important happens, like your cute neighbour opposite you is walking around in her underwear. Or a thief is trying to break in. But if they both happened at the same time, I'm sure you know which one's more important, right? Right?

Z's apartment was the typical bachelor pad, you know the kind. Shoes near the door arranged like tea leaves in a cup, a football in the living room despite everybody being kaki bangku, and a mountain of trash that was one day away from being able to emit gamma rays. I wonder how long is the half-life for his piles of takeaway...

On the door to his room there was a sign that said, "No panties allowed beyond this point."

And I thought that sucked, because I happened to be wearing my best Triumph's that day. :
Thankfully, there's nothing that barring me from wearing my Manolo's though...

Talking about panties, does anyone ever notice how a woman's undergarment ALWAYS had this hot model wearing the garment? I thought that was a good marketing idea by these companies, because when you buy it, you get one for the wife, and two for the husband :D.

Anyway, like all meetings with old friends, there's the usual reminiscing of the good old school days. Z was bitching about how sad it was no teacher's really remembered him, and I thought that was a good opportunity to make fun of him...

CC: Well, probably with you being so thin, and how you always sat sideways in class, even if you had an erection he'll only see a thin outline of your nose. So, of course he can't remember you.

Z: Motherfucker.

CC: Maybe next time you should sit facing ahead, with your arms outstretched, a flare in each hand, then do a wave...

Z: Oh, shut up, bitch.

Hahaha. It's always fun being with close friends like that, making penis jokes and just exchanging insults.

I always wonder sometimes if girls say things like these too when they're with their close friends.

"My god! Your ass is so toned! I nearly didn't notice your cellulite!"

So, really, do you girls do that? The Captain's wondering...

By the way, I needed to take a pee, and, damn, when I entered the toilet, was I freaked out. Can you believe the size of his toilet? It's bigger than my room! My room! And my toilet is the size of my shoe rack. I sometimes accidentally pressed the flush lever when I pee. And my hands were in my pocket!

Now, this dude's toilet was huge. His toilet bowl was all the way to the end of the toilet. You can see the earth's curve from the toilet door. I had to do some stretchings and warm up just to take a leak. It's the equator here, the tempeture's warm all year round, but when you reach the toilet bowl it's autumn! Autumn!

Ok, shit, gotta go, now I'm really hungry. Going for a pee really taxed me out. I can feel the burn in my quadriceps already.

You guys be good now.

Wish I was there...

2005-06-25T22:58:00.000+08:00

I didn't go to the PPS birthday bash, because, well, I'm too lazy to go to a blog meeting where people who blog meet and talk about blogging, then later they'll go home to blog about the blog meeting and how fun it was to meet other bloggers who've read their blog and give constructive and well-thought compliments like, "I've seen your nipples!"

But turned out you guys had a good time. Bugger. So, since I'm pissed at you guys for having a good time without me, I'll just make fun of your pictures. Well, at least some of them. And the best part is...you can't do anything about it! Muahahahaha!

By the way, pay attention to howHB's hand seems to just hover over the females' shoulder...

Come on, HB, you can do it. Just rest your arm on her shoulder, come on.

Just a wee bit more...come on, you can do it...

That's it, HB!!! You're getting closer!!! Come on now people!! Cheer him on!!! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!

Atta boy! I'm so proud of you! *Cries and pops open a champagne*

HB's tentative tentacles aside, let's see the other bloggers...

10 points to Minishorts for finding fridge magnets...er, I mean, earrings that match your shirt.

Elaine, from now on it is MANDATORY for you to post pictures of yourself from AT LEAST 7 different angles, your phone number, the time of the week when you are free AND AND AND the dishes that you can cook.

You have to feel very lucky, because after some consideration, I decided that I can live with the fact that you'll look like an Easter bunny in this.

So am I considerate or what?

Meanwhile, did anybody notice the underlying theme for PPS?...

"Project Petaling Street: We celebrate diversity..."

Shit. You other buggers are lucky I don't have so much time to make fun of everyone. A drink at Finnegan's with an old friend comes calling. Muahahaha.

Nighty night.

(Pictures stolen from ShaolinTiger, Suanie, HB, and Kimberlycun, because I'm wonderful.)

Q & A on the most important man in my life

2005-06-24T03:59:00.000+08:00

I was too lazy to write a proper post about the most important man in my life who's been with me through thick and thin, through the ups and downs of life, and who thought me by example. So I'll just make this Q and A session then.

Q: So who is this guy you're talking about?
A: Thierry Henry

Q: Really?
A: Well, before that it was Tony Adams

Q: So the important man in your life is an Arsenal player, huh?
A: No, just kidding. It's my dad, you twit.

Q: So what kind of a guy is he?
A: Well, he's one stubborn prick.

Q: How stubborn?
A: While we were out for a drive once, he took a wrong turn and ended at a cliff. He drove of it. Broke my collarbone and three ribs, but all that is water under the bridge now.

Q: So you mean he would rather live with his mistake than change his mind and admit he was wrong?
A: Yes, which would explain why he stayed married with my mum.

Q: That's mean.
A: Hey, you're the one asking.

Q: Any other qualities?
A: Yea, he's damn tough.

Q: Just how tough is tough?
A: He didn't even shed a tear when MU lost to Arsenal in the FA Cup

Q: Whoa. No shit.
A: Yes. What's more, he once had a high fever, and was in bed under 2 blankets and 2 layers of clothes. But then he just swallowed his medicine, acted like all humans have a core body temperature of 39.6 degrees, then did his work.

Q: Say, if I chopped his leg off....
A: He'll just say it was a minor abrasion, then staple his leg back on. After that, he'll sign up for a 40K marathon.

Q: Can he really run?
A: Well, he once won eight place in a veterans marathon, so I guess yeah, that dude can run.

Q: Eight? Just eight?
A: Well, the competition was in Ranau, Sabah. And if you've travelled a lot or know people who do, you'll know that it's not uncommon to see wiry grannies climbing up Mt. Kinabalu with a full tong gas on their back, telling other pussy mountain climbers who are huffing and puffing, carrying only a 10kg backpack to move away because they're blocking her way.

Q: Who told you that?
A: My friend. Apparently, after seeing the granny run by him, his ball shrunk like hell and now it couldn't be detected with the naked eye.

Q: How small?
A: Physicists have brought him to science conventions to help demonstrate the size of string particles.

Q: So your dad can really run.
A: Nah, I think he walked.

Q: Walk?
A: Yes.

Q: Wait, I don't get it.
A: You see, my dad walks really fast.

Q: He can't walk that fast.
A: Yes, he can. Now ask me how fast.

Q: Fine, I'll humour you. How fast?
A: Yesterday, while walking to the car, he converted into energy.

Q: Why do you keep on making physics jokes?
A: Because that's the only class I ever go in besides English. Next.

Q: So do you talk with your dad?
A: Well, we have certain unspoken rules when we talk.

Q: Like?
A: When we're talking, the ratio of letters to period you can use per turn should be less than 10 to 1. The optimum words to use are the ones that have a ratio that is less than 5 to 1, like uh-huh, and mmm.

Q: So he doesn't talk a lot?
A: Well, if you didn't happen to be his offspring or is married to him, he's known to be very charming, generous, witty and humorous.. No matter who you are, he somehow makes it seem as if you've known him for a lifetime.

Q: You've seen it yourself?
A: Yes. Mothers talk to him like he's saved their kids from a burning building. Villagers crowd and talk to him as if he's help reroute the river to their drying up rice fields. Doctors act as if he found the cure for cancer. Villagers...

Q: I get the idea. So it sucks to be his kid?
A: What three letter word starts with the letter "d" and ends with an "uh"?

Q: ...

Ok, that's it for today. I need to sleep. Love ya dad. Happy Belated Father's Day.

Word of the day

2005-06-16T20:07:00.000+08:00

Pronosaurus (prôn--sôrs)

noun.

A very large hard-disk drive kept primarily for pron, with some innocent looking files kept on the outside to delude you.

Example: Holy shit, John! You have a pronosaurus and you're not sharing it with me?

[Inspired by this Penny Arcade strip, and some conversations with friends, where I gathered that I am behind in this virtual stashing of pron.]

When reality crashes on you

2005-06-12T00:00:00.000+08:00

Oh my god, I'm a whore.

My niece is cuter than your niece, and have I told you I can make a good soufflé?

2005-06-09T02:06:00.000+08:00

Note: This post is about my niece, who is the cutest 2-year-old niece in the whole wide world, and how wonderful I am. If you disagree, then, uh...you're a big doo-doo head! (hee hee, doo-doo head)

My niece recently got herself a jigsaw-puzzle set, and because I'm such a lovable uncle, she always calls me to help her finish it, and I always say yes, because how can you say no to the cutest 2-year-old niece in the whole wide world?

In uncle terms (if you have the cutest 2-year-old niece in the whole wide world, that is), "help" means she'll pour out the contents of the jigsaw from the box out, and I'll piece the whole thing together, then let her have the honour of putting the last piece in (awww...see how sweet I am?)

Of course, we do this always (awww...see how sweet I am?) because she is my favourite (only) niece, and I am her favourite uncle, because when she was born, I saw how cute she was so I deported her other uncles to Myanmar to eliminate competition for her affection. Here is how I duped them into going there.

Me: Hey, I'm sending you guys to a sweat shop...I mean, I got tickets for a tour that passes by a clothing factory. It's Gap. Really
One of the losers: It's in Myanmar. I don't want to go to Myanmar.
Me: They give free t-shirts.
One of the losers: Oh, ok. Let me pack.

I heard there are a lot of kids there, so they should be ok.

When she's bored of telling me how slow I am putting together the jigsaw, her grandma can do it faster (it's true!), we'll sit together and watch educational documentaries on the tv, like WWE, where we learn that being body-slammed across the ring is VERY VERY PAINFUL and you should not attempt it in real life, unless you have laid out two queen size matresses on the floor and your mother is out.

Then we play GTA and run down some hookers. I find the game has some useful life values to teach her, like making sure to back up over the guy you ran over, so there'll be no witnesses.

Recently, my niece has been seen roaming the neighbourhood on her tricycle (it's pink with frilly handles!), picking up stray cats then throwing them on the asphalt before running them over with her tricycle (it's pink with frilly handles!), making sure to back over them.

I swear, I don't know where she learnt that from. We only play Solitaire on my computer.

Nieces are wonderful, because you get to play with a cute little kid, but you don't have to change its diapers. In heaven, if there is a god that is, I imagine everybody would be given a niece who'll stay as a 2-year-old forever. People who go to hell will then be ordered to change your niece's diapers.

God: Your sins have outweighed your good deeds. You will now change Captain Carcinogen's niece's poo-pooed diaper for eternity.
Sinner: No! No! Burn me in hell! Rip my organs out! Have Jessica Alba rape me but I suddenly can't get an erection! Anything but that! Anything! Anything! Aaaarghhh!!!

Well, I don't mind changing diapers if it was my own kid. In fact, I would relish it, because my life long dream is to be a househusband. (By the way, any woman who is hot and has enough money to support me for life, give me a call. A yacht and a chateau in the South of France is not compulsary, but would help get you on the top of my list.)

Like all men who aspire to be a househusband, we are good with kids (and can make a good soufflé), and have a developed conversational ability. The latter was developed, because growing up, I learnt that somethings will never happen to me, like grow to be 6 feet tall, have chest hair the density of the Amazon rainforest and be able to bench press Sharifah Aini 100 times with one hand.

So I learnt how to be funny, so I can distract girls when men who possess the aforementioned qualities I can never have pass by. Of course, when worse comes to worse and I can't make them laugh, I will lean back on the tried and true method used by guys across the ages: do something stupid to impress her. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it is stupid enough, and funny enough, then you'll get the "Wow!" reaction, like this one, which will somehow make them agree to go on a date with you.

Female I'm trying to impress: Oh wow! You can gulp down a can of beer then squirt it through your nose across the room! With one hand! You're so funny! Ok, so maybe I'll think about that date.

We have seen evidence of this back to the primitive cave men, with drawings on cave walls showing stick men around a mammoth, which is actually a meticulously worked out plan on how to impress a woman.

Cave man: Ok, Bgrhu-gah, you distract the elephant, then when Jes-ghudah passes by, give me the signal so I can tickle its nuts and get stomped. That always makes her laugh. Hey, stop wedging my underloincloth up my head!

Oh, I can also make a good soufflé. Have I told you that?

Thus, with my developed skills--if you're lucky enough to get me, that is, you can brag about me to your friends ("you should try his soufflé!"), my wonderful qualities ("he can make a good soufflé!") and my inherent *EHEM* manliness ("we made love the whole night, then he bench-pressed a soufflé 100 times--with one hand!")

In addition to that, I also have a good eye for colour, so your kid won't look like they were dressed by Eyeris, and I'll drill them in English, so in addition to growing up to be a cute little glamour queen, they can go around and brag that they're the "Grammar Queen," like Minishorts (Hee hee, I made fun of Eyeris and Minishorts at one go, I'm so funny).

By the way, do you want to try my soufflé? Hey, what a coincidence. It looks just like my niece's poo-poo (hee hee, poo-poo). What are you doing? Don't throw up! I spent all afternoon baking it!

Calling out to rich, hot sugarmama's. Rich, hot sugarmama's who are single, give me a call...

I, male. I, fix things.

2005-06-08T01:48:00.000+08:00

Men are the gender born with many illusions. Because of this they believe that no matter where they point when they pee, their urine while make a perfect S-coil in mid-air then land dead center in the bowl. Of course, women have illusions too, the most common being that any piece of clothing covering their ass would make them look fat, and any amount of assurance would not help them believe otherwise. But I have to assure you, that jeans doesn't make you look fat. It is because you have a huge bu....

Ouch.

Because of this too, men create gadgets, so they can satisfy the needs of men who have the illusion they can fix anything when it's broken, given they have a complete set of screwdrivers. The process of fixing is a simple, instinctual act, where we will take a screwdriver and open up the casing and stare at the inner mechanisms, with the illusion that if we stare hard enough, knowledge that has been pent up all this time within the casings would transfer through our optical nerves into our cerebrum. This will then prompt us to take apart everything in sight, then stare again at each piece, long enough to understand that we need to stare at things longer before attempting to put them back together at random. Our girlfriend/wife/mother, who has witnessed this forever, would shake their head and roll their eyes, then dial the handyman who's on speed-dial 9.

Sometimes, if they're very lucky, men would come up with something useful to the human race, like the beer hat, or, on the practical side, a washing machine, which was initially intended to be a multi-speed, revolving beer pyramid display, but we had ALL intentions to use it as a washing machine (this was discovered by Alva Fisher's drinking buddy, who, in drunkerdness, slipped pieces of broken underwear into the machine, which was ripped from Alva while giving him a super-wedgie).

Of course, men are also good at creating cover stories to hide their follies, so these men called themselves visionaries who could envision a future where manking need not spend so much time slogging on laundry. And, to make us look good to women, we say that this was intended to reduce a housewife's chore (because househusbands weren't a legitimate career back then) and ensure that they have more time to spend with their family, and--from my acute observations of my sister (the one who does not know this exists)--to watch Oprah, in some extreme cases, whilst doing tae-bo.

Women, on the other hand, know how to fix things. As a special representetive of the females, I have invited my mum to give her nuggets of wisdom on how to REALLY fix things, using the computer as an example.

"Now, when the computer hangs, just bang the sides until you feel comforted. Drum on it, if you feel the need, to a cha-cha beat. This will attract the attention of my son, who will whip out the screwdriver box set his dad bought for his 7th birthday, and attempt to open the casings, to "get an idea of how it works". I'll then call that nice man on speed-dial 9. His father used to fix things that my husband broke (Dad: Attempt to fix!). Now that he's retired, I'm glad his son could fix the things my son breaks (CC: Attempt to fix!)"
-Captain Carcinogen's mum on fixing things

But sometimes, when she finds that a handyman is not necessary, a woman would violate all laws of nature, and ask us for *GASP!* the manual!

This would automatically make us feel naked and vulnerable, and jump off from the couch and cower in the corner, covering our balls, even if we were watching football, as long as it's not the Champions League Final (duh).

We all instinctually know, from the wisdom of the ages, that consulting a manual is wrongwrongwrong, and would lead us into Dependence, a train on the railroad of Destruction, which is currently broken and being fixed by 12 highly skilled repairmen that were trained by my mum and are busy banging the railings with their spanners to the tune of Cinta IT, hoping to attract the attention of a real repairman.

I'm sure you've all heard of the man who consulted a manual on how to put together a swing set. He managed to put it together, and, unlike other swing sets, when your kids use it, they won't fly off into the neighbour's backyard when the swing detaches from the hinges ("Daddy! I'm flying!").

AND THEN HE DIED.

While sleeping, he was mauled by the brutal savagery of the spirit of the swing which rises at night and uproots itself from the concrete base, angry that a manual has desecrated the assembly of its spirit. It is last heard roaming around the Wangsa Maju area, sensing that one guy had used a manual to put together his kitchen shelf.

This is true. I heard it from a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who used a manual and is now DEAD.

School ah?

2005-06-05T03:48:00.000+08:00

School? I remember school. How can you forget something you hate.

I used to cut class a lot, because I always believed that if you're not mentally there, then there's no point in being physically there. Together with L and H, we'd go to a secluded spot behind the old science lab and have a smoke or two.

There was this old wooden bench there, the surface all splintered and withered and we'll sit on it, lean on the science lab's wall and watch our smoke billow upwards. After we've finished our cigarettes, we'll hang out for awhile to let the smell of cigarettes fade from our clothes and skin. We'd chew some Hacks to remove the smell from our mouth, then just talk nonsense until it's time for the next class, because what else is there to do behind an old, abandoned science lab with moulding walls and peeling paint?

Directly in front of it was the junior's vegetable patches, and sometimes if the toilets were locked or we were just too lazy, we'd pee on it, always choosing the ones that look the smallest, because we like to help out our juniors the best we can.

I couldn't help laughing when a few months after that, I saw some juniors merrily picking up the vegetables from the patch we peed on. I'm sure they felt proud, since the plants on that particular patch happened to grow taller than the rest of the patches. I don't know how they'd feel though, if they found out what made their patch unusually subur.

Let's keep this a secret between us, kay? Hahahaha.

5 cool things to do at the PPS 2nd anniversary birthday bash

2005-06-04T20:03:00.000+08:00

Can't think of 10. Currently preoccupied with Winning Eleven. Enough lah this.

5. Sneak a decaf into Eyeris' cup
4. Go jogging with Minishorts to pump more blood into your, erm, legs.
3. Massage Jeff Ooi's little bird. (Hah? He's not coming ah?)
2. Steal Cowboy Caleb's monogrammed gifts. You know, C.C., C.C.(You mean he's oso not coming? Aw...)
1. Play 'pocket billiards' with Kenny Sia, if you know what I mean. Well, if that doesn't work, we can have hairy leg showdown.

You blog ah? Hah? You oso ping at Petaling Street one ah? Then come here lah! Wah? You read oni ah? What lah u...no ego meh? Hai, just come lah. Very empty one that place. Hahaha. Can get free food. Bring beer ah.

Shit. I hope a lot of people come...I don't want to be recognized. Not that I can help being noticed though, what with me being so good looking and all.

Nothing to do on an early lunch break

2005-05-25T11:15:00.000+08:00

(From here. Some refer to the person, some to the blog. Go figure yourself. I'm out for a smoke.)

I sometimes forget to read Minishorts.

Minishorts is funnier when she's pissed.

If I were alone in a room with Minishorts we would take off our clothes and compare who can get their nipples closer together.

I think Minishorts should be a sex counsellor.

Minishorts needs a "Bunny".

I want to browse for the "Bunny" with Minishorts.

Someday Minishorts will sell a best-selling porn...I mean, romantic novel.

Minishorts reminds me of Angela Carter.

Without Minishorts I would have 5 minutes 44 seconds more in my day.

Memories of Minishorts are PG-13 in nature, but everybody knows otherwise.

Minishorts can be too long for my short attention span.

I thought she was a 15-year-old kid telling me not to swear on my blog is how I describe meeting Minishorts.

Worst thing about Minishorts is her hamsap stories.

Best thing about Minishorts is her hamsap stories.

I am baking chocolate chip cookies with Minishorts.

3:34 seconds

2005-05-24T01:11:00.000+08:00

Ring ring

Click

A: Hello?

CC: Hey

A: It's early

CC: You're up

A: ... So what's up.

CC: I'm out for world domination today. Thought you should know.

A: Really?

CC: No.

A: Aw...

CC: ...

A: ...

CC: Got veggies?

A: Sure.

CC: Taiwan?

A: Here you go.

CC: Hey, I gave a five. Where's my change?

A: Sheesh...

CC: ...

A: ...

CC: Oi, apa diam ni?

A: Kau yang diam dulu.

CC: Anyway, gotta go.

A: Umpfh...go go go.

CC: Ok, I'll call you later.

A: No, I'll call.

CC: No, I'll call.

A: No, I will.

CC: No, I'm cheaper.

A: No, I'm cheaper.

CC: No, I'm the slut, ok? I'll call.

A: No, I'm the desperate housewife. I'll call.

CC: No, I'm...FINE. I'm out of money this month anyway. You know what stress does to you.

A: Smoking? Again? I thought you quit.

CC: Er...

A: Bad boy. Kids shouldn't smoke.

CC: Like you're old.

A: Mentally, I'm your grandma.

CC: So you'll still love me for my adolescent innocence, right?

A: Maaaaybeee...

CC: Bitch. See ya.

A: Bye.

Some phone calls should last forever.

Captain Carcinogen's guide to using the Archangel Oracle Cards

2005-05-18T13:39:00.000+08:00

"Oh Caucasatic Angel..."

1. Open box and inhale the smell that reminds you of school books, hospitals and an unidentified third scent that ups the sleepiness factor. Lie down and nap for 25 minutes, or until refreshed.

2. Stretch, and begin by flicking through the handbook inside.

3. Gasp when you reach the part where she says she's imbued these cards with some divine powers, because it must be damn tough to imbue all 7 million or something cards out there bought by ~~suckers~~ spiritual seekers.

4. Start by ~~desecrating~~ ~~consecrating~~ ~~wait, which one's the good one?~~ consecrating the decks of card, by touching them and concentrating your divine energy on it. If you have digged your ear or nose, you have to wash your hands and repeat it, because if not, you would be desecrating it (yes, that's the bad one).

5. Next, have a question in your mind, and ask the angels for help. Mine goes something like this: "Oh predominantly blond, blue-eyed, scantily dressed Caucasatic divine beings, I beseech your guidance for this conundrum I am in."

6. Shuffle the cards, then take 3 cards from the top and lay them down from left to right in the order they were picked up.

7. The card on the left will be the cards that tells you about your present problem, the middle one tells you the truth about it, and the one on the right tells you what you should be doing.

8. Er...er......left card Causehappystancearoo...middle card Division and Multiplication Well Being...right card The Heavenly Bong...what the hell? I just asked which shirt should I wear today. Couldn't it just have told me, "That red one," or, "Not that green one, it just looks awful on you. It looks like Eyeris picked your clothes for you"

9. Conclude that this is bull, but could be a very successful cult, like all other organized religions.

10. Be proud you skipped lunch for this. But not the cigarette break. Oh, never.

Join the cause

2005-05-08T10:14:00.000+08:00

Look, guys, I gotta ask you something, and you gotta answer me truthfully, because being honest can change your life forever.

Questions:

-Has a female ever punched you on the shoulder?

-Kicked you in the stomach? Or your shins?

-Whacked in the face? Pinched at your side abdomens? (man, I hate that one the most) Or even threatened with a weapon like a chair or any other possibly damaging objects within her reach just for making a passing remark? A very very very innocent, but possibly naughty remark?

-Does she giggle while beating you up, seemingly happy with injuring you like a sadist, not caring about the potential physical pain and mental anguish you would have to face?

Then step out of the darkness, males, speak up and stand up for yourself and join this newly created group, Stop Violence Against Men Now, Damnit.

Men beating woman has been emphasised so much that our plight has been neglected, in fact, women beating men has been an accepted norm in society. We should not tolerate being treated like this, like we're all punching bags, ready for them to abuse at anytime of day.

We deserve better! We're human beings with feelings and emotions too, damnit!

Repeat after me: A pat in the back for a good joke, yes! A full slap on the back, no!

Act now, brother, act now, support SVAMND's cause now before it's too late. If you're getting beaten often by a female just because of what you said (even if it's very very nice but a little bit naughty, just a little bit), stop tolerating it. Move away from her, do not let her restrict your freedom of speech, and remember to help other brothers in need who also face such torment.

The first step starts with you. Remember, your actions could save a brother today...

If I could be...

2005-05-08T08:20:00.000+08:00

Hm...this seems fun. Was posted by Eyeris (Careful! He might have his eye up your skirt!) asking the 999,999 ringgit question: If I could be a priest...

Oh, in case you're wondering, the million ringgit question is whether I like my peanut butter chunky or creamy.

In case you do wonder, neither. I prefer jam.

So, let's get going...

If I could be a writer, I'd be filthy rich, since churches worldwide would buy 10 million of my books to burn in protest for being "anti-christ and "corrupting our children." Thank you. I enjoy corrupting them too.

If I could be a movie producer, all my movies would feature Jessica Alba, and every scene would be a shower scene.

If I could be a world famous blogger, I would not be associated with Eyeris.

If I could be a bonnie pirate, Keira Knightley would be involved in here somehow.

And...

The question we've waited for so long.

(Camera zooms in)

Here it is.

If I could be a priest, that means I have developed a liking to fondle little kids'...much, much older sister, who is at least 21, and is fully consensual about it.

And now I'm supposed to pick three people to...ah, who cares. Just go to Eyeris' blog and begin another one yourself. But be nice, or he won't give you a cookie. (Well, if he doesn't give them out, he should by now)

Kepala angin (airhead)?

2005-04-24T16:41:00.000+08:00

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 ah...so 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.

Die Malaysian drivers die

2005-04-21T00:12:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-21T00:09:00.000+08:00

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

2005-04-21T00:02:00.000+08:00

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.

Er, what the fuck?

2005-04-18T16:57:00.000+08:00

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.

My new favourite picture

2005-03-30T23:41:00.000+08:00

Poetic.

Ignorance, ignorance

2005-03-30T23:38:00.000+08:00

All my friends in Australia are having a 3-day Easter Break. Honestly, this made me feel ignorant because I wasn't aware that the Easter Bunny is so revered by Christians.

But at least it does prove that religion is good for one thing: chocolate.

Mmm...chocolate. This reminds me of my Kinder Bueno addiction day.

Mmm...Kinder Bueno.

Conversations with God

2005-03-15T23:12:00.000+08:00

I'm sitting there on the couch, minding my own business, when the cacophony of construction sounds appear out of nowhere.

"What the..???" was all I can think of. This can't be right.

Stepping out into the balcony, I see that men are doing renovation work on the apartment right next to me, which as it happens, shares the same balcony and wall with me.

All this on top of my recent gastric-throw-up-everything-including-water-fest, bronchitis, heartburn, problems applying for higher education, money woes which lead to borrowing money from friend and now leads to figuring out how to pay back friend, having to move out of my apartment to my dad's friend's apartment a few floors below, which smells like a dead cat. And now I have to contend with mind-numbing drilling and hammering for as long as I'm awake?

"Why God why???" I shout.

"Because I can," he says, leaning back on the rattan chair, still deeply absorbed in molding something out of clay. "Plus, you've been living the good life before this what...susah-susah sikit pun..."

"Look, dude, you know that's not true," I counter. "It wasn't that great. In fact, many would deem it horrible and if they were to plot a graph based on my childhood, I would be an axe murderer right now."

"But you had a roof over your head, didn't starve...ok, at least, not much, and you didn't break a bone.Others live in the street, starved to death, broke all the bones in their body, and only have 2 channels on their tv. Wouldn't that already be cause to celebrate?"

"Fine, fine, I see your point," I reply, exasperated. There's no beating this guy. "You know, if you weren't the most powerful being in the entire universe, I'd jump on you and kill you now."

"Sure you would," says God. Standing up, he puts the clay figure he's been molding up to the light and examines it from all angles. "Ok, this looks done," and with that confirmation he puts the figure close to his mouth and blows life into it. The thing automatically gets concscious, sputters, kicks, and then falls to the floor clutching its throat.

"Oh, shit, it's not built for this atmosphere," he remembers. Taking out a jar from thin air, he puts the creature in it and then seals it tight. A strange yellow mist appears in the jar.

"What is that thing?" I ask, looking at a creature that seems to resemble Gollum, if he was yellow, had 8 arms, and had his hair done by a topiary artist.

"This," he replies, putting the jar on the coffee table, "will be the dominant creature in a planet 100 million light years away. It will take over the planet, kill all the animals, pollute it recklessly, and then claim they're perfectly made in the image of me, and will kill each other claiming I told them to."

"Gee, that's original," I retort.

Pulling out a roll of cigarettes from behind his ear, God places it in between his lips, and with a point at the tip, a streak of lightning zig zags in from the open window to the tip, lighting it up.

"Hey, hey, hey, no smoking indoors man! The ash will get all over the carpets! Can't you see?" I shout.

"It's ok, there won't be any ashes," he says, smiling.

"Anyway, why on earth are you smoking?"

"Indestructible lungs," says God, thumping his chest. At the same rhythm as the thumps, a rumbling of thunder could be heard, somewhere in the vicinity.

"Woops," says God, peering out of the balcony. "I think I hit someone."

"Really?"

"Nah, just kidding. Anyway, I gotta go." Placing the jar under the arm, He waves and disappears with the words "Be nice" ringing endlessly in the air.

"Ok, I will."

He loves you and he wants your money

2005-03-04T23:34:00.000+08:00

I followed my friend to church a couple of weeks back. It's my second time following him there out of boredom, and I like to find out just how other religions are first hand (haven't went to temples before though, maybe next time) and from what I can see, I believe the church is just one big money grubbing institution.

One of the speakers sent out this collecting pouch and asked us to donate generously.

"Don't just give your spare change! Give freely! Willingly! For it is to build the kingdom of god! Show your love!"

Of course, my friend didn't give any, since he doesn't agree with this aspect of the church. I'd like to tell him that the rest of the church isn't very agreeable too, but since I happen to be confined in it, I'll just keep my mouth shut.

Somehow, I have a feeling when the sermon ends, the pastor will go, "This sermon was brought to you by Coca-Cola, the refreshing drink, and Adidas, the brand with 3 stripes."

***

Anyway, I just found out why the Interfaith Commission was put on hold. Apparently all of the major religions can't agree on the correct shape of the spaceship that will come and save us. Some say it looks like the Starship Enterprise, other said it looks like a Millennium Falcon... But the good news is, they all agree it can go on hyperdrive. So, it should be ok...

I think I'm just paranoid

2005-03-04T23:13:00.000+08:00

I just quit smoking, and I feel fine. I think. Great. Sure, I feel a little paranoid, and everybody seems a little hostile, but still... Let me go online, talk to some people, maybe I'll forget about lighting one up.

Ok. Let's turn MSN on...

*Ting!*

ribroast79: hi. what's up

Hi? What do you mean hi, what's up? There's nothing up there but my ceiling...damnit, did you install a camera there???? You're watching me now, aren't you?

Hei, mister, what are you doing online at this time??? How did you know I'm online??? I know it's just 9! Don't you try to change the topic! You're saying hi to me? Don't tell ME you're saying hi to me! Oh, I know all of the little tricks you have up your sleeve.You're just trying to drive me crazy!

The newspapers??? There's nothing in the newspapers! They're all fake news written by the shadow government to keep us happy and pleased. Did you seriously believe all the news in a day can fit into a paper? BAAAH!!

There's nothing! Nothing people! Nothing! The spaceship isn't going to come and save us! We're all lost and alone in this world!

What is that you say? Nicotine patches can help me from ranting like a mad idiot? Well, guess what, smarty pants, I tried it, and it did nothing! It's not the same. I tried lighting it up but it burnt my lips. Oh, I see it know, so that's what you were trying to do. You're trying to kill me!

Leave me alone! Go! Leave me alone!

...

Huhuhu...

I want my mummy...

p/s: the moral of this story is, when your dad offers you a cigarrete when you're 9, winks and then he tells you not to tell your mum, don't smoke it.

To all my goyims

2005-02-26T18:36:00.000+08:00

Anonymous said...
"This site is a Jews and Christian propaganda to disorientate the reading muslims.You muslims out there the truth is in the holy Quran and Hadith."

Yes! You are so true! This site is a jewish propaganda machine meant to make Muslims stray from the one true path!! Muahahaha! All you goyims, bow down and dust my yamulkah! Everyday is Chanukah!

And since I know that Islam is the one true path, it must make sense that I want to stray you from it, because I want us all to be burned together! Burned for eternity! Burned and burned and have our skin ripped and our body pierced endlessly while dancing on the eternal flames of hell! Forever!! And ever!

Bow down to me or face the wrath of Rabbi Carcinogen.

Buwahahahahahaha.

Shit. They rock.

2005-02-18T22:45:00.000+08:00

Handsome Boy Modelling School

God of the day

2005-02-18T22:18:00.000+08:00

(Today my god is Jah. I cycle through gods for the heck of it.)

Dear Jah,

I picked you as my "God of the day" because I found out two things about you. One, that you promote smoking ganja, or "wisdom weed" as you call it . Two, that you don't promote smoking cigarettes, since it is unnatural and is harmful to your health.

(Yes, I do not get it either and am rolling my eyes. I believe you saw that eye-rolling, since my back is singed by that lightning you just sent down.)

And since I am not a big fun of drugs but love to smoke, you would understand now that I picked you because nothing makes my day more than pissing a god off.

Amen.

I hate hypocritical Muslims

2005-02-11T03:04:00.000+08:00

(First, thanks to TV Smith for linking me in his post stereotyping. Now my readership has doubled from 2 to 4. Many props to you. Now back to the post.)

Since I’ve moved to KL, everytime I meet a Muslim in KL, I would usually go to many lengths to hide the fact that I’m a Muslim. I don’t really look Malay anyway; I’m a Dusun mixed with Bajau, making me look ambiguously Malay with dashes of Chinese, so I usually get away.

But then, it’s not because I’m ashamed of being a Muslim. It’s just that when they find out I don’t believe in God, they start to break into this spiel of theirs, which I suspect they have rehearsed many, many times. Oh, they might be worse than me they say, they might be a heavier drinkers than I am they say, womaniser, gambler, cheater, stealer, they say, but it always ends with:

“…jahat-jahat aku ni, percaya jugak aku ada tuhan.”

“…tau jugak aku yasin.”

“…sembahyang Jumaat jugak aku kadang-kadang (what kadang-kadang? Is that any better?)”

And in that beautiful, rosy world of theirs which is filled as much sin as mine, they’re ok. They’re the good ones. They’re the ones god puts into his bosom and sends them to that promised heaven for them to languish in joy and splendour for eternity. And I’m going to hell.

Yes, I will. So what? I don’t give jackshit. So what if you believe in god? So what if you know the first page of Yasin? So what if you sometimes go for the Friday prayers? Does that make you so much more better than me already? We are both filled in shit neck high; stop trying to mask your stench with cheap deodorant. Accept the fact that we’re both in the same ship: sinking in the sea of sin with nowhere in sight, just flailing enough to stay afloat in it. Stop being such a fucking hypocrite.

Are you telling me that’s how a good Muslim is defined by? By how much they remember? By how they still make that very occasional visit to the mosque? By the number of times they stand, bend and bow in the direction of the Ka’abah in their lifetime?

Why are those the qualities? Was there some kind of mix-up when god gave us instructions on how to be a good human being? Shouldn’t we be defined by our values, our ethics as a human being, how we treat those around us

So being an ethical human being who doesn’t cause trouble to people around them isn’t enough?

What kind of a god is that? If that really is the god I’m supposed to pray in this religion that I’m born in, which, might I add, did not choose but can’t escape from, why should I bother praying to him?

Isn’t that weird? There’s this god who makes it illegal and even punishable for death to denounce your religion. What, you afraid I’m leaving? Shouldn’t you know by now whether I’m leaving you or not? You are, after all, G.O.D.

Ever since I could remember, I never felt compelled to pray to him, read stuff for him, singing praises to him, glory glory god, thank you for creating me, despite what my parents and local ustaz have thought me.

He MADE me. Why is someone so powerful, who can create the whole universe out of nothingness, run the planets in the orbit, and make the sun rise and fall, wants me to kiss his ass endlessly? Why does he want to be PRAISED?

Isn’t wanting to be praised a human need, the vain feeling that you should be acknowledged for what you did for them?

“Yes, but C.C., don’t you want to be acknowledged? Don’t you feel pissed if you did something for someone and they didn’t even bother thanking you?”

Wait, if god has the same emotions as I do, then shouldn’t that immediately make him NOT god already? Doesn’t that automatically disqualify him from being the supreme eternal being?

Because we all know, that emotions like anger and feeling short-changed are human infallibilities?

If he is god, he should distant himself from the creatures he created. He cannot be like us. If he also feels emotions, imagine what else he would share with us. Would he read the paper in the morning too? Would he be at the local mamak stall calling out, “Boss!” for a teh tarik?

If so, he must not be god. He must be something else. So humans aren’t made in the image of god. It’s the contrary, however. He must be a god created in the image of humans.

It is just a natural need for us humans to know that there is something running the things in the background, making trees sprout from the ground, tearing the heavens apart to give us the life-giving gift of rain. It is unexplainable, so there must be a divine being doing it. And so comes in god to fill in that void in our minds.

“My, that sure explains everything that happened in life. God made it that way!”

And then, as humans, since we live in a society where every action has a repercussion, we started giving out punishments to ensure a society peaceful enough for us to share.

So, obviously, if we were to make a god, he must give worse punishments. He won’t whip you 20 times, then make you pay a fee once. Oh no, he’ll make you pay for eternity. Forever.

Then isn’t that some kind of a sick god? He’s omniscient, all knowing, ever present, neither here nor there but everywhere, looking into our minds, sitting on our couch, hovering all around us, seeing what we do, not predicting, but KNOWING our next moves, and then making us suffer in eternity for something he knew we’d do all along anyway. How could he blame us for something he could already foresee? Why not just throw us in hell the day we were born to save time?

He knows the past, present, future, and whatever time there is in between, but he’s going to punish me for eternity because I did something he already knew about since I was small blood clot in my mum’s womb. If you know that I’m going to step into that bar and down some
Chivas, why not come down before I step in and bitch-slap me and go, “Hey, BIATCH, don’t step your feet into the devil’s establishment?”

Some might argue he gives us free will. We are free to choose what we want to do, so it is obviously our fault, even if he knows. Free will? For what? What’s the point of free will if he already knows what we’re doing next? That’s not free will. That’s like saying we can choose any colour, as long as it’s black. Wouldn’t our choices inevitably be the ones that have been written in his book a long long time ago? The number of times I’m smoking tomorrow, the colour of the first house I own, the size of my next girlfriend’s breast and whether she smells nice, wouldn’t that be predetermined already?

Wouldn’t free will be pointless? Why not make us mindless drones who toil all day making endless monuments in praise of you? Isn’t that what you would want? People saying your name all day, thanking you endlessly for being put on earth?

Is watching humans roaming around mindlessly, doing everyday things so entertaining to you, god? Is this your version of the Sims? Aren’t there other things you can do to waste time, like knitting or curling up on your sofa with a good book on a rainy day? (Hell, I’m sure you can make it rain whenever you want). Can’t you get a life? Is eternity really that long?

Now, let me assure you that despite my dislike of god (to put it likely) I don’t hate everyone with religion. If you have a religion, it’s fine with me. If you live by his tenets, hey, whatever you want, knock yourself out. It’s your choice. I have friends who are genuinely nice people and are highly religious, who I believe should be the models of how people with religion should be, and I fully appreciate their friendship. I do get into debates with them on god, but we agreed to respect each other on our views, and I believe that’s how things should be. I don’t like religion, and I will comment on it, but if you believe in it, well, good for you then.

What I cannot stand, though, are hypocrites, people who subscribe to religion yet barely follow it, and then start condemning me and giving me speeches of how much “better” they are since they memorised some lines (what is this? Is the afterlife a test you’re supposed to cram for?

Shouldn’t it be all practical?) and how I should “change” my ways, that I’m destined for hell, that I should repent while I still can. Oh, shut up. Just how much better are you than I am?
I live my life by my rules, not according to what these books that god supposedly sent down. I do what I do based on my own personal views and values. As long as I don’t trouble or hurt anybody, hey, then it should be ok.

Now I got to leave. There are some sins I have to attend to.

Modern prayer for a smoking addict with lung cancer

2005-02-10T17:01:00.000+08:00

Dear Lord Of Darkness/Satan/Lucifer/Iblis,

I have been a very good boy this year. A very, very good boy this year. Not only do I open the door for girls I go out with, I also graciously accept their offer to split the bill, because I know giving is as important as receiving. Plus, I would also not pretend to be someone I'm not, which is getting a woman's attention through buying things for her. I am charming enough for her to like me the way I am.

I know that if I were to die today, I would go to heaven for my good deeds, the kind, pious, mother-loving human I am. So could you please come down (or up, depending where hell really is) to stick your hands through my lungs and remove all the tar and the cancer I have in there? I need to live long enough to prove I deserve to be in hell.

I promise that if you fulfill this prayer of mine, I would go out and find a virgin to sacrifice to you on the next full moon. I am sure that would please you very much, because you know how hard it is to find a virgin in Klang Valley. Maybe you should've thought twice before whispering them to get into a state of sin and corpulate with the closest person of the opposite sex, or the same sex, depending on their orientation.

In addition, I would get pentagram shaped sport rims for my car in honour of you.

A god-loving person bathed in a halo of light,
C.C.

Amen

(This prayer will work. I know. I watched Constantine. Was that last part cool or what?)

So you looking for an apartment?

2005-02-05T06:41:00.000+08:00

The owners of my apartment, these two woman came by today, bringing with them a couple who are prospective tenants.

They gave them a look around the apartment, and I was hoping I could show the prospective tenants around by myself.

"Yes, if you would step in the kitchen, you can see the greasy counter top and that ventilator thing over the stove that I accidentally burnt.

And that's the couch. Yes, that old, worn out one with cushions that looked like they just exploded. It used to be blue. Anyway, my cats have scratched all over the sides of the couch, leaving chic, tasteful claw marks all over it, and there's this musty, pungent odour over it, to give it that old, repugnant couch feel.

And if you would step out here into the balcony, you can have a nice view of the better apartments next door. Oh, sometimes there's this psycho on that opposite apartment on the 4th floor who uses a telescope to peer in here. It's ok, just keep your curtains closed. And I didn't pick these peppermint green curtains, ok? It was here all along. If it was up to me, it'd be midnight blue."

Before they left, the owners gave me the overdue bills my dad hasn't paid. I looked over it and said, "Rent plus bills plus electricity...Damn, 5100? Looks like I got to leave this country soon."

"What?" said one of them.

"Oh, no, nothing."

After they were given a spin around the apartment, the owners told me there'll be another one coming later. They looked at the clock. It showed 6.30 p.m "Anytime now," they told me.

They then went outside the apartment to wait for the prospective tenants.

After about half an hour, they still haven't arrived, and I'm about to go out, so I just decided to leave the door unlocked; they'll know what to do.

Outside, I saw them still waiting for the other prospective tenants. Any chance they coming before Chinese New Year, 2006?

I asked them, and they told me the prospective tenant's still aren't here yet. I decided to kid them a little, so I said, "Oh, wait, you can't show them the attic; that's where I keep the dead bodies."

They bursted out laughing.

"Nah, just kidding," I told them, "there's just a lot of books strewn around."

Anyway, with all the books I own, I can't afford to pick fights with arsonists; I'm such an easy target.

Of commercials with tongkat ali and clowns

2005-01-31T03:00:00.000+08:00

I have to wonder about the new Power Root tongkat ali commercial. They have Anuar Zain and Zahid promoting it, like it was some kind of new shoe or something.

And then, for no apparent reason, Zahid, along with some back-up dancers (all decked in orange clothes, of course) start to do a dance.

Excuse me??? Is there some kind of hidden meaning here? Are they trying to tell me something?

"We can't help it! We're so glad to have an erection!"

In fact, if they played a song in the background that went, "If you have an erection and you know it, move your feet," I will not be surprised.

Or does it make your blood rush throughout your body, you start to feel some other body stiffening into an erection, you have to move it to make sure your joints aren't locked? Shouldn't there be a sign, at least in unreadeble small print that goes, "May cause erection in other undesired body parts"?

Because, can you imagine, one day you're lining up, maybe at the bank or something, and then some dude behind you, who happened to down a couple cans of tongkat ali, suddenly pokes you with some stiff object?

You turn around, you see a guy trying to balance himself on one leg like a ballerina while the other leg's stiff and sticking straight out at you.

"Hey, sorry man, the blood went the wrong way!"

Of course, when that happens, you should only thank god it was a leg. It could've been worse. The thing that poked you might have been something with no bendable joints and doesn't branch out at the end.

Then there's that Nokia commercial with the clowns. If you don't know, it's the one where there's that guy who's sitting around bored and then these clowns parachute down to where he's at and start to do, erm, clowny stuff and supposedly entertain him.

Now I don't know about you, but if I were sitting around minding my own business and then these clowns parachute down to where I'm at and start to run around me, I'll be FUCKING TERRIFIED.

What were they thinking? Keeping tabs on me and then AMBUSHING me when I'm ALONE.

I won't go, "Hahahaha!" when I see them. I'd go, "Holy fuck! You're FOLLOWING ME! SOMEONE HELP!" then pick up the biggest stick I can find and beat them senseless.

And the most ridiculous ad to me, of course, is the "Beautiful Woman" ad, a cream that supposedly, if rubbed constantly, and vigorously enough...ok, just constantly, will give you bigger ya-ya's.

Then comes in this well endowed woman in the chest department, wearing a bra, and she starts to jump around, apparently in glee, her breasts bouncing up and down. Now can you imagine the kind of message she is sending out to all the women out there?

"Look people! My breasts are big and bouncy! When I jog they slap me in the face and the knees! But that's ok! Because I'm beautiful!"

I'm a damned Muslim

2005-01-26T22:21:00.000+08:00

http://www.sharizal.net/archives/000430.html

Way to go moral officers!

Anyway, when I was in Penang, I remember seeing a beautiful mosque, but I can't go in. The kind of Muslim I am, with my excessive smoking/drinking/eating pork/prodding the belly of my neighbour's dog, I might be struck by lightning when I step in it.

Why am I not there?

2005-01-24T22:58:00.000+08:00

I don't have a computer so right now I'm typing this from a CC with crappy computers. The computers are so slow you'd think it's running on a 386. To give you an idea of how slow the computers here are, I played solitaire on it, and...it...lagged.

I'm moving to Bukit Jalil soon, near a multimillion ringgit sports complex nobody can use because the sports administrators in Malaysia are dumbasses. Right now I'm living in an over-priced apartment. The price is jacked up simply because the place is about 10kms away from the KLCC twin towers. It's not like they're that great anyway; the carpark layout is crappy. But then, what can you expect from architects who are obsessed with everything vertical; thinking horizontally is too tough for them.

Someday I want to make a movie which has ninjas and Nigella Lawson in the same scene. Nigella Lawson will look good, as usual, and then cook something for the ninjas, like roast lamb. And then the ninjas will help her skewer the meat by sticking a ninja sword through it, then later chop it up using ninja skills and eat it using shurikens because they're too cool for forks. (She'll squeeze some drops of lemon on it, which was cut by chopping both ends of then cutting the skin off by cutting it in a square shape. I know this because I watched Forever Summer With Nigella: Yellow. Shh...nobody knows I watch it.)