Thursday, September 30, 2004


Ever been for one of those team-building courses?

They teach you about teamwork, trust your teammates and shit like that. Fuck, even I teach all that shit to my scouts. Its supposed to be good, build a good attitude and everything.

But I don't practice any of that shit myself.

Firstly, the thing about trusting your team mates? Look. If my team mates are in incompetant bunch of fuckheads, am I supposed to trust them? If one of them screws up, that makes me look bad. So, no such thing as trusting idiots. Idiots are not meant to be trusted. Always double check what idiots do.

Secondly, you always hear people say, "Don't blame one member of a team. We are a team, we fail together and we succeed together." Bull-fucking-shit. Homer Simpson's logic -- "Why blame yourself when its easier to blame someone else?" Also, if my team flops because of one donkey, why should I not blame him and castrate him? This doesn't make much sense. And if I drag my team through mud to succeed in something, why should I let all the other wankers take all the credit?

This reminds me. When I went camping in August, they asked us to pitch our tents ourselves. Naturally, some people had never been camping before and had no clue how to tie a few knots and everything. Then comes along Vince, the helpful guy to rescue everybody and to teach them stuffs. That's what they said at least. Vince is a helpful fella. He teaches us stuffs even though he doesn't need to.

Bozzo! Thanks for the compliments. But let's get things straight. I taught you how to do this this this cause we sleep in the same tent. If I don't teach you how to do stuffs the right way, and it rains tonight, I sleep in a leaking tent. And I don't want that, do I?

All this teamwork shit really doesn't make much sense. When you are a kid, they tell you to be independant -- depend on yourself, don't expect others to help you. Then, when you grow up, they tell you to work in a group. I don't really understand humans. I should stop teaching my scouts all this crap.

Holy cow, I feel like such a hypocrite now.

*No I don't*


Wednesday, September 29, 2004


I remember watching a particular episode of the Simpsons. Lisa Simpson wanted a dancing role in her class play. Unfortunately, she sucks. So, her teacher gave her the job of pulling the curtains on stage. To which she complains because she is treated unfairly and unequally. Wisely, the teacher says:

"Now, now Lisa. You can't expect us to give equal roles to people who are clearly not equal. Cause what's that called now, class?"

To which all the other small kids shout, "Communism!!"

Which brings me to this topic of democracy. Mob culture popularly dictates that democracy is the best policy. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a rogue and is in the wrong.

I don't champion it, but sure, its a pretty cool policy. We have the rights to do vote for our leaders and everything. Sounds perfect, yes?


Question is, who should be given the rights to vote? Everybody? No. That is not the case. Children and teenagers are not given the rights to vote. Cause someone came up with the brilliant idea that they are not matured enough and might be easily swayed. Besides, what the fuck do children know, rite?

But then, some other dumb fuck came up with the brilliant idea of bringing democracy to the schooling system. That means, kids get to vote for their head prefect (in some schools), they get to elect the president of whatever society they join, and they get to elect their class monitor. Which totally contradicts the first point does it not?

Children are not allowed to vote in "adult elections" but are allowed to vote in "kiddy elections"? What the fuck kind of hypocrisy is this? Look, take either stand. My stand, kids should be shoved in the corner and made to do nothing, cause thats what kids these days are good for. We have already established the fact that kids can't think for themselves. We have already established the fact that kids are stupid and immature. Thats why they are not allowed to vote to choose their government.

So why the fuck allow them to do that in schools? I am sure everybody has seen their fair share of sohai class monitors, retarded society leaders and shit head prefects. But nooo, the stupid asses teachers and headmaster in school insist -- this is a democracy. We are giving the students a chance to vote for their own leaders. (no matter how fucking incompetant they are). So, in the end, the "smart" guy always gets elected. Or the handsome guy. Same with the cool dude. The guy sitting in the corner with braces wiring his jaw shut doesn't get a chance to show people what he can do.

But hey, its a democracy, is it not? Majority wins. Even though the majority don't know fucking shits. Doesn't matter does it? Majority fucking wins. Let's face it. In any kiddy election, skills don't matter most of the time. Popularity does. In my scout troop, it pisses me to the fucking core when I spot a talent which nobody else spots. Instead, the wanker wins and then everybody who voted for him realises sooner or later that he is a wanker. Well, too fucking late isn't it?

You know who else shouldn't be allowed to vote?

98% of the worlds population. Cause they are not able to think on their own. Its not just kids you know. Most adults can't think on their own. In fact, some kids are better at thinking than them.

Ooooooh, we love the movie actor. Let's make him president. Haha. Look what the fuck happened there. Boooo, we hate him now! Let's throw him in jail!

Oooooh, there's a cool cowboy in town. Let's make him president. Boooo, we hate him now! Let's vote for the other war veteran!

Oooooh, I don't like this president! Let's overthrow him and elect a sick blind man. Boooo, we don't like him now! Let's change another one! Boooo! Lets elect that woman now! Boooo, we don't like her now! Let's elect the general now! Fucking donkeys have been changing presidents more often than hippies change their underwear. (sorry if I got the order messed up. They changed so many so often until even I get confused who came first)

That's where dictatorship is brilliant in a way. If someone's capable enough to garner support to overthrow a stupid government, then he must be a capable dude. Never mind that he kills kids and doesn't support Green Peace's Conserve Our Forest bullshit. How many people are capable of starting a revolution? Never mind if he is an evil bastard. At least he is competant and capable.

Incompetence sucks.

Doesn't it suck when you know you can do things better than that chicken shit who is giving you orders? And you know the only reason the chicken shit got so high up is because some people like him. Because of his father. Or his money. Or his pretty boy face. Or his charm.

Democracy my ass.


Tuesday, September 28, 2004


My computer has cancer.

No amount of spyware removal programs can help it. Its dying, slowly. I can't reply your comments or read it, cause I can only open one window at a time. Any more will result in IE crashing. Meaning that when I get a pop-up, the fucking thing crashes.

I have been spending the last 5 hours backing up all my files, and have a shit load more to backup. FUCK ALL THE MOTHERFUCKERS AND THEIR POP UP ADS.

What happened to basic human rights?

I mean, what happened to the right to surf porn without infecting our computers with crap?

*Actually, its not only porn.*
*I don't surf porn*


Monday, September 27, 2004

ask vincent

Taking the cue from Viewtru, I have decided that we, as bloggers have a moral responsibility to the general public. The Internet is supposed to be an educational tool, not just for kids, but also for adults. I am ashamed that in my 185 posts so far, I have only had 3 educational posts. I called them Vincent's Lessons in Life. That is clearly not enough.

As you can see, on the right panel, I have just added an email address for you to contact. You can use that email address to ask me questions, and I will try to answer you. Questions can be anything at all. Like ask me, why is the sky blue? Or why do most porn movies have specific props, and what do they do with the props after that? Informative stuffs like that you know. I am not saying I have all the answers, but I will humour you to my fullest knowledge.

The first question comes from JY, from Selangor.
He asked, "Do we sweat when we go swimming?"

Well, JY, first we have to understand what sweat is. Mostly, in tropical countries like Malaysia, where the weather is humid, people sweat a lot. That means, as you quite frequently see, while queuing up for the bus, there is bound to be a fat piece of lard around. His shirt can usually be seen to be drenched in sweat. This is because our skin is like a cooling mechanism.

How so? Well, when we feel hot, the skin releases sweat. After a while, when the wind blows or we sit under a fan, the sweat on the surface of our skin evaporates, leaving us with a cool feeling. In other words, sweating is a way for us to cool down. Otherwise, we will die.

So, when we play sports, we usually sweat. It is our body's way of cooling down. I can understand JY's dillema. While sweat can easily be seen drenching our shirts and soiling our underwear after football, you can't really see the effects of sweat in the swimming pool. So, one might be confused whether or not the sweat was actually released by the body and got washed away in the pool.

Actually, unless we are swimming in a big boiling pot of water, we actually would feel cooler when we go swimming. Therefore, you will hardly break a sweat. However, after you get out of the pool, that is a different matter. You might still feel tired and the hot sun around might cause you to sweat.

Of course, if you have a private pool in your house, and use it for purposes other than swimming, then that is really a different matter.



Yes, I know its been a fucking long time since this show hit Malaysian shores. But I was still stuck here back then. And it just opened in UK cinemas this week. That's how sad the film industry here is.

We were quite damn bored today, so we went to watch this show. Which turned out to be damn bloody bad idea. Cause its a downright prostitution of Chinese cinema and martial arts just to please the lustful Western tastebuds. Crouching Tiger, Hero, Flying Daggers all have one thing in common -- a stupid love story. Since when did Chinese Kungfu show have love stories? Ask Wong Fei Hung to kiss a girl and he would gladly give you a flying kick to the ass.

The only good thing about this show was how they played with the art of colours. That was maybe the only factor that prevented me from storming out of the cinema.

The kungfu sucks. Period. There is nothing else to discuss.

If people said Puteri Gunung Ledang was a slow movie, what the fuck do you call this? Its worse than watching retarded snails copulate. At the end, the stupid ghost faced Maggie Cheung killed the guy by putting a sword through his stomach. Then, she went to hug him from the back, and pushed the sword all the way through his body so that it stabbed her too. My friend Morpheus and I actually shouted, "What the fuck??"

And do you actually need 1 000 fucking arrows to kill one man? Imagine this. There is a guy standing between a gate and a bloody big group of archers. They take aim and shoot. 20 arrows hit the guy and he dies. The rest of the arrows pierce the wooden gate. Have they thought about whose job is it that is going to pull the arrows out of the gate? Dumb fucks they are.

This is easily the worse damn movie I have watched in a fucking long time. And this is coming from someone who about a week ago watched Garfield and The Day After Tomorrow back to back. It was a damn waste of my 4 pounds. I should have watched Wimbledon. At least I get to see Kirsten Dunst wearing a miniskirt for most of the movie.


Sunday, September 26, 2004

have you ever?

Have you ever sat on a park bench and watched the world go past?

Have you ever lied down on the soft green grass and gazed into the heavens?

Have you ever taken a walk into the silence of dawn?

Have you ever stared at a tree, waiting for a leaf to fall off?

Have you ever sat by a lake and soak up the reflection of the moonlight?

Have you ever watched the waves roll up the beach and wonder how long it would last?

Have you ever day-dreamed of being a mermaid and swimming with the fishes?

Have you ever stared into a snowy white plain and wished that you could stare forever?

If you have, go get a fucking job. You are obviously too fucking free.

*Bet you thought I have gone soft, didn't you?*
*Cranky minds are good. I have just discovered the mental joy of a rubic cube*
*I'll tell you when I am done with it*



In this land of rampant alcohol abuse, fights are very common. If you were to walk on the streets at night, or stand in the town square the whole night, chances are you will be able to witness one first hand.

Fights usually start for many petty reasons. Cause drunkards can't really control their temper. So, a small issue like spilling beer on his toes will piss him off. Wearing a football jersey in town at night is a big NO-NO. Football rivalries are so extreme that even sober people will start fights, what more crazy drunks? Even small things like hitting on somebody's wife is a good enough reason to start a fight. Ok, so maybe hitting on someone's wife is not a "small thing", but still?

After being here for quite a while, I am used to seeing those stuffs. I used to stand and watch them fight. The best fight I have seen was between two stunning blonde models. I watched them rip out each others shirts and they were wrestled each other to the ground. One of them was having a go at the other girl's long blonde locks. In return, the other one ripped open her skirt and began working on her panties. Then, they started kissing each other and feeling up each others breasts. Oh, hey wait. That sounds like a porn show I saw in Prague. Sorry, I got mistaken.

But I saw a fight the other day that actually shocked me. It was for the simple reason that it was going on at around 6.30pm. That's way too early for any of them to get drunk. Even by British standards. There was this large woman with big bossoms. She looked a bit like Jenna Jameson. She practically screaming her balls off. I know what you are thinking. She's a woman. She ain't got balls. But that's cause she screamed so hard that her balls went off, see.

Anyways, Jenna Jameson was screaming at a guy, probably her husband or boyfriend, who was starting to look embarassed and was walking away from her. She chased after him in her high heels (not a very good idea) and started to whack him when she caught up. It was real. No playful shits. She punched, she kicked, she screamed. And the dude was just standing there absorbing all the blows while trying to say something to her.

She continued wailing like a rabid bitch, everybody watching was clearly irritated and could have easily given a her a slap to shut her up. The guy walked away again, but this time, she actually took her handbag and threw the whole fucking thing at him. I always said, angry people NEVER think straight. Cause the dumb bitch forgot to zip up the bag. So the moment the bag took flight, all the stuffs took flight as well. And we know how much shit stuffs there is in a woman's handbag. An aerosol can, probably deoderant flew out of the bag and hit the guy at the back of his head.

He finally lost it. His face turned green, in fact his whole body too. Yes, including the dick, if you were wondering. You could see his muscles growing, his shirt ripping into pieces. The dude was morphing into some kinda big green creature almost 5 times the size of a man. Miraculously, the pants that he had on (probably spandex) expanded with his body size. The hairs on his head resembled a funny turf of black fungus on the seaside.

He was.........The Incredible Hulk!

Ok, so maybe he didn't transform and all that shit. But he did get pretty pissed offed. Cause he turned around, stormed towards her and gave her one big fucking 4 finger stamp on the side of her face. As Newton's 3rd Law of Motion* would have it, her face applied so much of force on his palm that you could actually hear the impact of collision all the way from Timbuktu.

Jenna Jameson immediately fell to the ground clutching her face to one side, probably lobsided by now, while wailing louder than ever.

"You bastard! I'll fucking report you for this!! You and that bitch!!"
"Yeah yeah. Go fucking report us then. While you are at it, go tell the Pope as well!!"

The guy walked away into the horizon, still holding the back of his head. A woman walked towards Jenna Jameson and helped her to her feet. Also helped her pick up all the stuffs. (they flew out of the handbag, remember?) Gave her a few pieces of tissue paper which she conveniently pulled out from her handbag. Although, I am still not too sure what Jenna Jameson was going to do with those tissues to reduce the imprint of the 4 fingers.

I walked away and into the pub to watch Manyoo kick Liverpool's ass.

Which brought me to a lively discussion with Vince. Remember him? He is my imaginary friend.

Did the woman deserve the slap or not?

We can obviously deduce that the guy probably cheated on her. Probably slept with a nun. Cause he asked her to tell the Pope about it. But why would he shag a nun, I have no idea at all. But that's not really my business (although none of the happenings were any of my business too). What we do know is that he was in the wrong.

So she decides to take it out on him. In public. In the middle of the street. Yups. I didn't mention that earlier, did I? She whacks him non-stop. And throws an aerosol can at his head. Ok, so maybe she didn't mean to. But maybe he didn't mean to fuck a nun anyway.

Conclusion that Vince and I came up with -- he should have slapped her one more time.

Yes, the asshole is in the wrong. He should never have fucked the nun. God wouldn't be too pleased either. But does that justify punching and kicking him non-stop? If yes, then well, expect to get one back. He did after all tolerate a hell lot of beatings - IN PUBLIC before finally losing his cool when a metal can hit his head.

Only an idiot will call that domestic abuse. If there are any idiots like that, they should have all their private parts surgically removed and be made into dog food.

*Newton's 3rd Law of Motion - Every action has an equal but opposite reaction. Which means that if you bitchslap someone's face with a force of 100N the person's face will slap your palm back with the exact same force of 10oN. That way, all is fair*


Saturday, September 25, 2004


I have come to a conclusion that a lot of people really can't comprehend simple English. But they like to read blogs. To improve their English, maybe. Ok, so the English here is pretty complicated at times. And yes, I do like to drag my sentences.

But for fucks sake, before you make a downright arse out of yourself, if there is anything that you disgaree with, don't let your big head and your temper get the better of you.

Take a second, go breathe some fresh air. Go walk around your neighbourhood. Go surf for porn and wank. Do whatever it is you do to calm down.

Then, come back and read the article again. 3 times, if necessary. 10 times, if you like. But do not comment on something, only to realise that there is a little "NOT" or "IF" in the sentence and you did not see it, therefore totally misunderstanding the message.

Also, if you have bad grammar, then take a while before interpreting the article. If neccessary, ask your neighbour's son to explain the article to you in whatever language you see fit.

Then come back and comment nicely.

Oh, try to differentiate between sarcasm and sense. If you can't differentiate between the two, then ALWAYS assume it to be the former. If it still bugs you, consult your neighbour's son again. If he is also confused, then ASK ME.

Don't make an ARSE out of yourself.


Friday, September 24, 2004

vincent's lessons in life #3

Following up in the success of #1 and #2, recent turn of events have forced me into coming up with a 3rd series.

This is especially useful for students suffering from senioritism. It is a disease that usually effects 3rd or 4th year students in university who don't give much of a hoot about making new friends anymore. Symptoms include an unexplainable sensation that they know it all, been there and done that, and especially try to stay as far away as possible from new friendly freshers, irrelevant of how hot or big boobed they are.

Case 1 -- For people you will see once and never again in your life.

Scenario 1

Freshie : Hi. My name is John Smith.
Vincent : Hi. My name is Vincent
John : Cool. What are you studying?
Vincent : Engineering. And you?
John : Cool! Same! We are going to be classmates!
Vincent : Er...no. I am in my 4th year.
John : Wow. So tell me...............(and you will spend the next 1 hour answering stupid questions)

*now, what have we learned here? When answering a question about what course you are doing, NEVER mention popular subjects like medicine, engineering, law, etc. Instead, mention something like "Sports Management". Also, we learn NEVER to mention that you are a senior. Always, always act dumb. Remember, freshers have a lot of fucking questions. So, pretend that you dunno anything as well*

Scenario 2 -- learning from past mistakes

Freshie : Hi. My name is John Smith.
Vincent : Hi. My name is Vincent
John : Cool. What are you studying?
Vincent : Spors Management.
John : Wow. Sounds cool. What do you study? What are the job prospects? How long is your course? Bla di di bla bla bla.

*clearly, that was not a very good idea. My bad*

Scenario 3

Freshie : Hi. my name is John Smith.
Vincent : Cool. My name is Smith Johnson.
John : Cool, what are you studying?
Vincent : Pissology.
John : Whats that?
Vincent : The art of taking the piss out of other people.
John : Are you mocking me?
Vincent : No shits, Sherlock.
John : *PUNCH*

*Some of you might prefer this method. But it is not very convenient. Lot of blood involved. Maybe broken teeth*

Scenario 4

Freshie : Hi. My name is John Smith.
Vincent : *Stares blankly*
Freshie : What is your name?
Vincent : *Looks elsewhere*
Freshie : Not very friendly, are you?
Vincent : *Picks up handphone and makes a fake call*
Freshie : .............

*the clear winner*

CASE 2 -- When talking to people you will meet again. Like those buggers in your same hostel.

Scenario 1

Vincent : *Eating, minding own business*
Freshie : Hi. Can I join you?
Vincent : Sure
Freshie : Hello. My name is Elanor.
Vincent : *hmm..nice boobs* *munch on chicken* *yum yum*
Freshie : What is your name?
Vincent : Vincent.
Freshie : What are you studying?
Vincent : Engineering.
Freshie : Oh, I am doing Psychology.
Vincent : *tears up chicken and continues feasting*
Freshie : So, where you from? How do you find this place? Do you know my boob size? Bla bla bla.

*nice people stay in your hostel. You have to be nice to them. But when you are not in the mood to answer questions, this is clearly not the right approach*

Scenario 2

Vincent : *Eating, minding own business*
Freshie : Hi. Can I join you?
Vincent : Nope.
Freshie : No?
Vincent : Yeah, you heard me right. Fuck off.
Freshie : *Fucks off*

*A good way -- if your plan is to be a recluse the whole year. Cause after that, I highly doubt that anybody will want to talk to you. Ever*

Scenario 3

Vincent : *comes down 5 mins before the cafeteria closes*
Freshies : *all seated* *munch munch munch* *yak yak yak*
Vincent : *grabs food, sits alone*
Freshies : *Smile at Vincent*
Vincent : *Smiles back* *Enjoys the pork chop*

*Fantastic for a short term recluse plan. Wait for them to get to know everybody, and especially wait for them to find out whatever nonsense it is that they want to find out. Then have a chat with them 1 month down the road when they don't have anymore questions*

*Evil genius wins again*


flaunting it

*I have a story. It is about me. Writting this for two reasons - cause I am fucking bored and don't have anything better to do. Also for my anonymous readers to know me better. Besides, I am having a funny writer's block. The last few posts would have given you that idea already. Anyways, read if you want to. Bitch if you want to. I promise I will get back my funny bone by tomorrow. Really.*

A lot of people say that I have an ego problem. I say, ego, and its problems are relative.

Its like a woman with big tits walking down the street. Some of them wear baggy t-shirts to hide it. Some of them wear tight fitting clothing to show others that they do in fact have big jugs. Others, take it to another level by wearing shirts with a low neckline, which allow people to have a peep at their cleavage which is as deep as a monsoon drain.

Then comes women with small tits. Some of them wear baggy shirts so that people can't notice it. Some stuff their bras with tissue, and then wear tight fitting clothing. Others, don't give a hoot that they don't have much cleavage to show, and wear shirts with low necklines anyway.

Its the same with ego. I say, if you have something, flaunt it all you like. Whats wrong with that? When you encounter people who flaunt their capabilities freely, they are belong to either two groups of people. The first type is the so-called empty tins. They make the most noise but can't do anything for shits. In the metaphor, they are like the flat chested woman who walked down the street in a low cut neckline. Not saying its a bad thing, but most people seem to think they are making an arse out of themselves. Well, if they are comfortable making an arse of themselves, whats wrong with that?

Then comes the second kind. The kind who are good and know they are good. These are the dudes which other people despise the most. Personally, I love them. You see, this type of people flaunt their abilities for a reason. They want people to know that they are good. And it is upon that believe that they can perform better. For these guys, their flaunting of ability is often misconstrued as arrogance. And people dislike arrogance and generally want arrogant people to fail. It is based upon that that the flaunters thrive upon. They know that they cannot afford to fail as that would make them a laughing stock. And so, thats where the extra motivation to be better at what they are doing comes from. They have to keep performing well in order to keep showing off.

Me, I have never stopped flaunting the fact that I am a child prodigy, or so it seems. Prodigy, not in the sense that I could read when I was one year old. And no, I didn't solve IQ puzzles when I was 2 years old. The story of my life for the past 4 years is that I have always been younger than almost everybody -- everywhere I went. I was lucky enough to be able to start Standard One one year underaged. Coupled with the fact that my birthday is at the end of the year. So, in college, I was basically almost 2 years younger than most of my classmates.

If there is something I take immaculate pride in is that I grew up faster than everybody around me -- despite being much younger than everybody around. Like I knew since I was 13 that I wanted to be an engineer. I have known friends in college who still didn't know what they wanted to do in life. I knew never to fuck around with naive girls in school, even though it was easy and free bragging rights came along with it, cause it was not a really nice thing to do. I didn't have any stupid teenage infatuations which ended up in unneccesary tears.

Everywhere I go, people do not believe when I tell them my age. Firstly cause I look older than I am. And secondly, no 19 year old kid talks like I do. Remember when I went camping? (Read the first few posts in August) It was the ultimate compliment having everybody tell me that I am way beyond my age. Cause when a 19 year old kid gives orders and people two or three times his age sit up and listen, then surely its because they know the kid has something good to say.

Another of my proudest acheivements was before I came to the UK. I was doing an apprentice training in a local engineering firm. I was only 17 back then. My boss dumped me into the deep end of the pool. Either I kicked to stay afloat, or I drowned. It was a good way of learning, something I advocate till this day. As he would later tell me, I didn't just kick to stay afloat, I learned to swim to the shallow waters. In my second month there, he put me in charge of a project, along with it, the command of a few workers. The thing with blue collared workers, and actually workers in general, the foreman explained, was that they are a bunch of reculcitrant slugs.

If they do a good job, and you praise them, they get big headed and slack off sooner or later. If you don't praise them, they feel unappreaciated and do not bother giving their fullest. They do a bad job, and if you don't reprimand them, they step all over your head. Scold them a tad too much and the next day they come after you with a machete waiting to chop you up. Not only did I survive that one month, I came out of it with the workers having more respect for me than the foreman himself.

And why the fuck am I telling you all this bullshit for? You are thinking, Vince has lost it. Who gives a fucking rat's ass about him and his achievements?

Its because I can't fucking stand it when people talk about my age. Hey look. Age ain't a fucking barrier when it comes to working or studying or thinking straight. Age is a lame excuse. Like the time when certain unis won't let me in cause they said I was too young. Fuck them.

Like the time I was running for a post in the Malaysian Society in my uni. We had to give speeches and then answer questions from the crowd. Never till the day I die will I ever forget what a wanker in the crowd actually said, "I actually think that age is an important factor in showing the maturity of a person, therefore, I would like to know how old you guys are." It is also one of my biggest regrets that I did not put him in his place there and then.

Fuck you. I have friends 5 years older than me who are stuck in life. I know people 10 years older than me who still don't have a clue what they want in life. I, on the other hand have planned everything out since I was 16 fucking years old. Sure, some plans might not work, but at least I have a plan. Age and maturity? That's a fucking big load of horse manure. Plus, I rationalise most things better than anybody around me.

I would like to think that I am that big titted woman walking down the street with her top two buttons open, revealing her Victoria's Secret underneath. What everybody else thinks, I don't really give a shit. So there, ego?

What the fuck is an ego?


Thursday, September 23, 2004

poke you water fish

There's a phrase in Cantonese "chuk leh sui yu". Directly translated, it means "poke you water fish". A water fish is described as someone really gullible or easily manipulated. Stupid, innocent, naive, whatever suits you. So, poking the water fish is to take advantage of his stupidity.

Now, if you haven't already figured out, I ain't no water fish. In fact, I am that scum who does the poking. Of course this was all when I was a small kid. Remember the art blocks story?

The term of water fish is very commonly used during big football tournaments like the European Championships and the World Cup. Cause people like betting during those competitions. The best part is, during those competitions, a lot of people suddenly get an interest in the game. Those dumb fucks get information from their neighbour's goat and from their grandfather's friend. Suddenly, everybody is an expert.

As you might guess, those overnight "experts" are the biggest waterfish. Cause they actually don't know no shits about the fucking game. That's where people like me come in. To take advantage of their stupidity and mock their expertise by giving shit odds in a game. But thats really not as bad as what I did in Euro 96.

I was in Form 1 back then. The European Championships were going on in England. Now, seasoned football fans would know that the biggest problem with football games in Europe is the time difference with Malaysia. In this case, England is 7 hours behind Malaysia. That means, when they are playing the game at 8pm, its actually 3am in Malaysia. And by the time the game finishes, it is around 5am in Malaysia. Needless to say that the result was too late to be included in the newspapers for that day.

Meaning that if a game was played at 8pm on Tuesday, it is already 3am on Wednesday in Malaysia. That means, the results only come out in Thursday's newspapers. So, anybody who doesn't follow the tournament properly won't even know the game had been played just by reading the papers. Of course, there were other methods of getting the news. Like listening to the news on the radio in the morning.

And so, little Vince back then got hit by a brainstorm. It was sooo fucking simple. Listen to the radio every morning. Keep the score in my head. Go to school and find a water fish who didn't know that the game was already over. Give him "good odds". Go home smiling. Next day, come to school smiling even broader while collecting my dough.

I got rich that month. Well, not that rich, we don't bet in such ridiculous amounts as kids do these days. Let's just say, for that one month, I had enough money to buy a Cornetto ice cream from the ice cream vendor outside the school everyday. On better days, I could even treat myself to a Magnum ice cream and a packet of Mamee Monster snacks.

Haha. Those were the days.

I have many many sins.

Its not as if I give a shit.



It was a damn boring day today.

1) Woke up. Missed breakfast. Breakfast served only until 9.30am.
2) Surf net. Read news. Read blogs. Find game. Play game. Won it.
3) Went for project selection.
4) Shift my stuff from George's house to my hostel. Bitch ass cab driver.
5) Missed lunch. Lunch served only until 1.30pm. Reached back at 1.35pm.
6) Bum around in Freshers Fayre. Its where they con freshers (and other people) into joining certain societies.
7) Got conned by 2 women. After that got conned by a gay looking guy.
8) Played football. Ain't played in 5 months. Tired after running for 30 mins.
9) Played a stupid cool online game. Tried to do better than this morning.
10) Type blog.

Shit, that was boring. Nothing interesting to report.

Sod it, let's try again.

Somewhere in the planet of Alphapha, lies a great big temple. Living in the temple is a great big mighty God. And the story has it that I am that great big mighty God. Life is good. Champagne falls from the sky as rain, and there is an abundance of good food around. All I do is sit around and watch tv. And blog too. Oh, and more importantly it is a planet where my bedroom is the most active place around.

What a good life, until...


Bloody slug infested hell!! I wake up from my dream and look out the window. Some cunt faced freshers are passing by the road below my room to go to the Freshers Fayre. Like a bunch of sex-deprived hyenas, they emit ridiculous amounts of noise, a million decibels over the accepted limit, laughing like as though they saw a giant panda having sex with a goat.(Actually, to be honest, I don't really know how sex-deprived hyenas sound like. But I am guessing it sounds like those girls who passed below my room). I open my window, flash them my giant monster snake, and then close my window and draw my curtains shut.

Why did I do that? Cause I figured that if they were sex deprived, then the sight of something so marvellous like that, would drive them to insanity cause they won't be able to have it. And because of that, they will end up raping each other. How would that keep them quiet? Cause we all know, in lesbian sex, and with the absence of a toy, fingers and tongues are used. Now, with the tongue used to do other things, they can't talk anymore. I reckon that is what happened, cause after that, I didn't hear anymore noise.

Over the summer, I kept my stuffs in George's house. Now, that I am back in the hostel, I need my stuffs back. I mean, do you expect me to leave my notes there? How am I going to study then? And if I don't study, how do you expect me to do well in my exams? And if I don't do well in my exams, how do you expect me to get a good job? And if I don't get a good job, how do you expect me to make my first million by the time I am 32? And if I don't have my first million by 32, how do you expect me to rule the world later on? Use your head please.

Taxi drivers here are a bitch. Well, actually bastards. Cause I ain't seen a woman taxi driver before. (Eh? Just figuring out why we only use the term bastard for guys, cause technically a bastard is a person who was born before their parents got married, so can be either girl or guy)

So let me rephrase. Taxi drivers here are big dicks. Not saying that they have big dicks. I said they ARE big dicks. Firstly, that overgrown piece of bacteria told me that he wanted to charge me more to put my stuffs in the cab. Which is unacceptable, cause that is a rule that they created themselves. Then, he wanted to drive through the longer way so that he could chalk up more distance on the meter. I took out my shoe and smacked him. But the stubborn git still wanted to go the long way. Finally, I ripped off the taxi meter and shoved it so far up his ass, that the meter won't be seeing sunshine for a long long time. I was actually quite surprised on how easily it went in. Hmmmmm. Must have been loose for some reason or another.

Went for Freshers Fayre as it is just opposite my hostel. They give out a lot of free stuffs there. Usually the corporate companies give the most free stuffs. Besides that, there are a lot of societies that students can join. Malaysian Society is one of them. I got 2 damn cool booklets with lots of free food vouchers in it. Like Nando's buy one get one free.

I saw some friends I knew at the Malaysian Society booth. They asked me to let them see the booklet. I showed them...they took it.....and kept it. I got conned. And mind you, I don't get conned very often. After much persuasion with my extraordinary persuasive skills, I managed to get one back. The other one, well, the other conwoman wanted to keep it. And after a while, I thought, ok, let her have it. But then, after I let her keep it, she wanted to give it back to me cause I think I bugged her too much earlier. I guess she felt bad. I then felt really bad and wanted her to keep it. See, I am a nice guy after all. But during this school children hassling of "You take la" and "No no, you have it" this gay looking guy swooped in and conned both of us, taking it and keeping it for himself. Gay looking guy, if you are reading this, well, errrr........try not to look so gay.

Reading some blogs this morning, I found a game courtesy of Olivia which I will played. In short, its anime porn. Its very much like The Sims, whoever has played that ridiculous game. Objective of the game is to make money, build your charm, strength and knowledge, and try to pick up a girl in the bar. After you get her to talk to you, you gotta get her to go on a date. Its a progression thingy. Then you kiss. Then you get her into a love hotel. And then, finally, you, erm, perform the old and noble art of fornication. All in all, you have only 100 days to stick your thing into her cavity. Not her tooth cavity, mind you.

In the first attempt, I managed it on the 100th day. Just only made it, as I had ran out of cash. As a reward, they let you watch an anime video. First, you choose whether you want position 1 or position 2. I later found out that position one is fingering, while position 2 is using the more conventional sausage. You gotta press the up arrow key to keep the thing moving in and out. There is an orgasm meter at the corner of the screen, but I can't figure out how to make her come. Maybe someone can play and tell me.

I hadn't played football in 5 months. So, I am quite dead now. Well, half dead, Cause blogging is more important. I am going to sleep now. Hopefully, I can continue the Planet Alphapha dream without hyenas disturbing me.

*Note -- there is something really really different about today's post. If anybody can tell me what it is, I'll reward everybody by posting the password for that game. So you won't need to play the game but get to go straight to the option for Position 1 or Position 2.*


Wednesday, September 22, 2004

anti social

Two years ago, when I first came to the UK, I stayed in a university hostel. It was there I met many friends, some among my closest till this day. Among them, a guy called George. He was doing his 4th year in engineering. Back then, I was doing my 2nd year of my degree, although it was my first year in the UK. (I did my first year back in KL)

So, technically, back then, I was a fresher. I mixed around freely with other freshers. At meal times, I always noticed him and another guy sitting together, although they didn't seem to be talking much to each other.

Never mind all the mumbo-jumbo after that, but fast forward a few months later, George and I were pretty good friends. But he still refused to talk much to first-years. If possible, he later said, he didn't want to get to know so many people. Young minds not matured enough. Talk too much shit. Waste of time it seems. Back then, I didn't agree with him. I thought that that was quite an anti-social thinking.

Fast forward to today. I am now in George's shoes. I am a fourth year student. Graduating next year. And here, I am surrounded by a bunch of first years in my hostel. 2 years ago, I would have gone around shaking everybody's hand. Now, I really couldn't be fucked. George was right from the start. Freshers ask too fucking many questions. And after a while, its too damn irritating.

I was at the breakfast table this morning eating my cereals and I happened to eavesdrop on a bunch of freshies a few feet away from me. How long is your course? Why you choose to study this? Who? What? When? Why? Where? All these fucking questions.

Yeah, yeah. I am being unreasonable. People want to make friends. Hence the questions. But fuck it, I am not in a very friendly mood. I don't think I want repeat 128 times where I am from, what I am studying, why I chose to study here, how many times I ever had sex, etc. Just couldn't be fucked.

Would I rather sit and eat alone? Actually, yes. Cause after the usual "get-to-know-you" questions, comes the "oh-cool-you-know-it-all" questions. So, what are the lecturers like? How many classes do we have a week? Are the local students friendly? Have you ever encountered rasicm? Oh, fuck you. I never asked my seniors questions like that. Don't make me waste my saliva, will you?

And its quite fucking sad to say, besides having an intellectual level of close to zero, most freshies are, erm, not quite ripe yet. George had earlier explained that it was one of the reasons that he refused to talk to many people. It was cause most of them didn't have their heads fully cooked. In other words, not matured enough. It sounds snobbish, but think about it. How would you like to talk to a 4 year old kid non-stop? After a while, it would get fucking boring.

Like this dude I was talking to two days ago. (or was it yesterday?) I tell him its my final year. He asks me a question about the job system here. I tell him a story. I explain a lot of things to him. But at the end of it, the expression on his face gave me the impression that I was actually teaching a hippo how to fly. To cap it all off, he asked me right at the end, "What kinda job do engineers do?" We fuck people for a living, dude. We make nuclear bombs and fighter jets that blow up those poor sods in underdeveloped countries. Thats what we do, we fuck people up.

Yes, I am quite anti-social these days. I see a familiar face, I talk. But don't ask me to make new friends. Not today. My arse is too bloated to give a shit.


Monday, September 20, 2004

48 hours

I am back in the UK. Classes start next week but I am back cause of all the formalities. Registration and stuffs like that.

Its been an interesting last 48 hours.

Firstly, my flight. I managed to get an aisle seat this time around. In case you were wondering, no, there weren't any big fat alien blobs sitting next to me. Instead, the seat next to mine was totally empty. So I got to put my long legs over to the otherside a bit.

On the other hand, there was a half-jabba sitting on the window seat. She didn't go to the toilet, not once in the whole 13 hour flight. Maybe cause she was hibernating most of the time. I watched on tv before that some animals eat a lot, and then go to sleep for a long time. They don't even need to use the toilet. I reckon I encountered the human version.

When Jabba ended her hibernation, she decided to make some small talk with me. She's also a student, so she asked me what I was studying, which uni, where I am from, how long my dick is, etc. Hey look. Why the fuck ask questions which you really don't give a shit about? I ain't going to see you again, ever in my life. I don't give a fuck where you come from, what your dog's name is and any other stuffs that you feel you are compelled to inform a total stranger about.

This really isn't about having big boobs or a pretty face. Chick or no chick, don't fucking ask me stupid questions to make small talk. I don't give a flying rat's ass. Really. If you are interested in having a shag, then ok, give me your number and I'll think about it. Otherwise, why the hell would I be interested in what your name is? And don't fucking tell me its to "make friends". Look, its dangerous to make friends with total strangers. Didn't your mama tell you that when you were young?

In-flight movies on the plane were fucked up. I watched Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 2 times. Watched The Day After Tomorrow and Garfield. The only half-good show was Windtalkers. In case you didn't already know, I can't sleep on planes. That's why I tortured myself watching stupid movies.

After the flight, there was still the small matter of taking a 3 and a half hour coach ride back to the town my uni is in. Luckily, I was with my friend, Jillian, so I didn't bore myself to death.

So, reaching the bus station, I had to take another bus to where I stay. (Jillian had already got on the bus to get back to her house) Suddenly, there is this short girl who came up to me and asked me how to get to her accomodation. How the fuck would I know?

Well, actually, being a returning student, I did. She's a fresher see. And freshers are stupid. Look, just get into a fucking cab and ask the driver to take you there! But anyways, I am a helpful person and I decided to help her.

Before I go any further, I would like to clarify that she was in no way nature's gift to mankind. Just in case you did not understand that, lets try again. She is the type that you would "cover the face and fire the base". So, I really had no motivation to help her. I didn't even ask for her name. She told me. I didn't even register it in my memory. I was tired and cranky, and wanted to get home and sleep. I don't think I would have even given a fuck if 10 hot chicks told me their names.

But, I stayed and helped her carry some of her bags to the taxi stand, missing two buses in the process. Don't ask me why. I don't even know. Its like an instinct, you know. You have to help. How can you not help a person who has not been to a country before and is stranded in the bus station with luggage 2 times her body weight? She had one mother of a big trolley bag, a smaller trolley bag, and haversack bag and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. How on earth do you even pull two trolley bags together? And why pack a bag you can't carry yourself?

Some people are just unlucky. I feel for them not having either physical or mental capabilities. Yeah, pity. Its a strong tool in getting people's help.

Then there is a small matter of me walking around my university campus at 3am cause I was jet lagged and couldn't sleep. Actually, I was looking for a computer lab so I could blog and check my emails. But the stupid uni closed all their comp labs last night. (its usually opened 24 hours)

By the way, there are not as many hot chicks as there were last year. Godammit.


hey, cool!

You see, when people get angry, they lose the ability to think in all directions. All frustrations are chanelled to one view of things. They argue one point, totally ignoring all others. Such a case has happened, and I am sorry. I am very sorry that such a thing has happened on my blog.


Don't misunderstand.

If you thought I was apologising, think again dream on. Hahaha. Fuck. You'll have to wait for all 359 levels of hell to freeze over before I do that. Maybe wait for the Corrs to do a lesbian porn movie too.

Dudes and dudettes, I was talking about you. Thank all of you for your comments on the previous post. And especially thank all of you for commenting very very politely, even though it was clear that your thoughts were clearly opposing the things I said. So really, thank you that I didn't have to edit any of the comments.

But take another read.

I NEVER said that I hate/dislike/look down on women who want to look good. Temporary or otherwise. Seems the issue here is about women wanting to look good. Hey, I want my wife to look good. Like Anna Kournikova, if possible. Bet she uses lots of make up.

Somewhere along the line, someone got confused.

What I said , and read this well, was that I didn't understand why people would pay RM400 for their hair to get dyed. Seems it included treatment and some other mumbo-jumbo. Now not understanding something does not mean that I am ANTI that thing. Sure, I don't understand it, but its not my fucking business cause it wasn't my fucking money. And sure as hell is not my fucking hair.

I later went on to say, and I still hold firm on this. Cosmetics - make up, etc make you look better than your natural self, yes? That's why its used in the first place. In other words, it enhances your look doesn't it? It makes you look better, whatever your reason is. For guys on the street to ogle at, for job opportunities, for self-confidence, whatever the fuck it might be. Bottomline is, you use it to look better.

Now, my point here is, cosmetic surgery makes you look better too. To me, its the same thing, in the sense that also enhances your natural look. You are still changing the way you look. The difference that most of you pointed out was the costs, the pain and the possible health risks. Well, those 3 factors are really not relevant to you, if you choose not to do it. The point here is, do you as an outsider looking in agree with the principle of plastic surgery?

Again, its not a question of whether you would do it. Its a question of whether you would scorn someone for getting a pair of fake boobies. What I am saying is, as a principle its the same psychological feeling. You use make up to look nice. Other people use silicone to make their boobs bigger. Same reason. To look good to guys. To get better job opportunities (modelling, porn star, etc). To get a bit of self-confidence. Whatever the shit is.

So, my point, in case you didn't get it earlier, is that if you are someone who uses make-up, you should agree with plastic surgery. Doesn't mean that you would do it, just AGREE with it. Meaning that you won't scorn anybody on the street for getting fake boobs.

About what I believe -- I don't advocate dying of hair and make-up to go out everyday. Look your natural self. Its a bigger turn-on. But that don't mean that I am against people who do it. Do it if you want, but I am not going to force you if you don't want to.

Get it? Hope you did, cause I am bored of writting about this anymore.

Today, I got a punch in the arm. Supposedly it was because of my last article. Fuck. Why is it ok for women to punch men, but not the other way round? (Random rant -- don't fucking start another debate here)

Also, cause most of the women who replied the comments actually had their hair dyed. Those that I personally know anyway. Hey look. Nothing fucking personal. If I put your name here, then its personal. Otherwise, be clear on this. I'll even insult the Pope or the Dalai Lama if I they practice anything different from what they preach.

I saw a girl with green highlights today. I laughed. After much contemplatations, I stopped and thought, "Hey cool!"

But that don't mean that I am going to ask my wife to dye her hair green.


Saturday, September 18, 2004

one way street

Life is a one way street. You choose a path and you stick to it. You can't follow the road and expect to make a U-turn halfway through. (Cause you waste a lot of petrol, and oil prices these days are horrible)

Therefore, if you want something, compromises have to be made. You can't have the fucking cake and eat it at the same time. (you might ask, whats the reason of having the cake if I can't eat it, well thats not really my problem) Similarly, if you have an opinion and a believe, its all the way. Its not believing in something when and only when it suits you to the core.

Cause thats pure hypocricy.

Couple of weeks ago, someone posted really crude comments. I edited his comments, removing his highly inappropriate nick and his uncalled for insults. But I left the original context of his comment in, even though I did not fully agree with it. How could I delete his entire message, since I constantly preach about speaking your mind. The only request I made was that his comments needed to include explanations and justifications of his opinions and not just baseless insults.

Just today, again, with my previous article, I was asked another question. Since I kept complaining about cosmetics and shits like that, I was asked whether I would complain if my wife had bad hair and shits like that. Well, I can't really complain can I? After all, it was me who said in the first place that I discourage all those cosmetic stuffs. If she wants to, I'll let it be. But if she doesn't want to, I ain't going to ask her to do all that shits.

Now, read this . Its quite fucking funny.

The point here is not about what Metalrage wrote. More about the article he quoted. Its quite related to my previous two articles.

Look, my point was :

1) If you agree with make-up and dying hair, ie -- changing appearances, then you MUST agree with plastic surgery. No matter what you say, whether its the cost or whether its permanent, that's really not the issue. The issue is that both are cosmetic issues, and both changes your appearance to look like something other than your natural self.

2) If you think that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" or "women with brains are beautiful" or some other shit like that, then really, don't ever touch make up. Don't dye your hair. Hell, don't straighten your hair, or perm it. Manicures are also out of the question. So is pimple cream and moisturiser.

Really girls, you are either one of the two above cases. There is no mix and match. Otherwise, its just hypocritical.

Remember my article on feminism?

Equal rights, equal opportunities and all that bullshit?

If you believe in equal rights, then for fucks sake, expect to be treated equally in everything, ok? Again, its either one of the below.

1) You, as a woman, think that women are not equal to men. That men are in fact superior in many things. (there are many women who think like that, my mum for one, in fact most older women, the housewives, and Tinkerbell just admitted to me the other day that she believes in this) Well, in this case, then sure, its alright if you expect men give you special treatment. Carry your bags for you. Pay for your meals in dates. Stop by the roadside when your tyre just went flat and expect someone to change it for you. Frown when guys use foul language is used in front of you. Throw a tantrum when guys say insensitive things or act insensitive.

2) You feel that you are equal, if not superior. You can do everything a guy can do. Fair enough. I am not complaining. But that also means that you carry your own bags. Change your own fucking tyre. Listen to the crudest joke told by men and not give a shit. NEVER complain that your boyfriend/husband is insensitive. NEVER EVER say "girls are sensitive mah...."

And I never said that guys are better. A lot of them have their own flaws. Again, its either of the two.

1) You love cursing. (like me) You strive to learn every curse word in every possible language. Therefore, you also encourage women to curse. You don't call a woman "unladylike" when they tell you to FUCK OFF. You don't ban your girlfriend from using swear words, you bloody dick.

2) You are holy. Cursing is a sin. You've never cursed in your life. Fair enough then if you ask your wife not to curse. (I am not elaborating much, cause such people don't exist)

Point is, make sure you choose your believes first, and expect to be treated according to those principles. But of course, we make our own rules don't we? We suit our believes to fit our situations. Cause thats us, thats us humans.

When Vincent encourages you to go after the guy you like, cool, Vincent is a liberal guy. Cool, Vincent believes that girls should be given the right to pursue the men they like. When Vincent says, ask your boyfriend to fuck off if he tells you to dress so and so. Cool, Vincent is sensitive to a girl's needs. But when Vincent says girls should carry their own fucking bags, nooo, Vincent is quite an ungentlemanly prick. When Vincent says girls should be more independant and do more stuffs themselves, Vincent is now an MCP.

Aah, fuck all.


Friday, September 17, 2004



Vincent : *typing blog, laughing to self*

Mum : Eh..drive me to hairdresser.

Vincent : Why?

Mum : My hair long adee. Need to cut. Also, need to dye already.

Vincent : Aww, why need to dye hair wan?

Mum : Don't ask so many questions la.

Vincent : How much to dye hair ar?

Mum : Don't ask so many questions la.

Vincent : Okla. Gimme a few minutes la.

Mum : Lets go now la. My appointment in 15 minutes time.

Vincent : Ish ish *saving draft* Why must make appointment to pay money one? Women damn troublesome you know. Me, I go the Indian barber cut hair 10 bucks only, go anytime also can. Besides, he help me pusing kepala too. Free summore.

Mum : I pity your wife next time you know.

Dammit. Everybody seems to be pitying my wife. I feel so victimised. Pity ME! When my wife dye hair I gotta pay 400 fucking bucks! Oh, wait. 400 bucks is now. In 10 years time, with an annual inflation of 3%, dying hair would cost RM520. Pity ME! Pity my wallet. Then my daughter wanna dye hair, how then??

Say, got one daughter in about 25 years time (old enough to dye hair), ignoring future inflation rates, averaging out to about RM600. Say, dye hair once in 6 months. 2 women x 2 times a year. RM2400 per annum. Say, for 10 years, thats RM24000. Plus another 10 years before that, just for my wife. Thats RM12000.

Fuck me man. Thats expensive business. What do you think I am? Money Churning Printer ar?Imagine how many vibrators that women can buy with all that money. Dildos too.

I need PITY! HELP!


explanation required

I went out with my good friend Tinkerbell, just two days ago. When I saw her, I nearly took out one of my chicks and cut out her throat. I thought she had mutated into a pontianak. It was fucking scary.

Why you ask?

She suddenly had long BROWN hair. Its kinda mix between brown and gold. Some kinda Ahlian colour. Besides, she was wearing some kinda Gucci sunglasses which I told her made her even more ahlian.

Vincent : Eh, you know or not, you look like an ahlian these days.

Tinkerbell : *sticks out her 3 foot long pontianak tongue and wraps it around my neck, squeezing it until I can't breathe*

Vincent : I got question.

Tinkerbell : *shoots me a pontianak look--if wrong question--you DIE*

Vincent : Why do women waste money to colour their hair an unnatural colour and put some kinda mud on their face?

Tinkerbell : What waste money? Its money well spent.

Vincent : Not waste? 400 fucking bucks to make your hair look like a wig. Hundreds of bucks for some kinda white mud to put on your face. Not waste ar?

Tinkerbell : Its to enhance our look mah.

Vincent : Why need to enhance? Natural beauty not enough ar?

Tinkerbell : Different. This one looks better mah. Besides guys like mah.

Vincent : Oh. Say earlier la, you do it cause guys like it? But what happened to all that thing about "men should appreciate us for who we are" bullshit?

Tinkerbell : Also we want to look good for ourselves.

Vincent : Tell you what looks better. Face lift. Liposuction. Breast implants. All enhance mah. You agree or not?

Tinkerbell : NOOOOOO....plastic surgery is wrong.

Vincent : Whats the difference? Both also enhance. Both also make you look different. You tell me. What's the difference?

Tinkerbell : Big difference.

Vincent : What is the difference? Both also turn you into something different. Both also waste money.

Tinkerbell : I pity your girlfriend. Then, I pity your wife after that.

Vincent : Yeah. I pity them too. But that's not the issue. The question is, what is the difference?

Tinkerbell : The difference is -- *transforms into a monster pontianak and uses a laser beam with her bloodshot eyes to poke a few holes in my skull, exposing my overgrown brain giving me a splitting headache*

*Moral of the story : Sun Tzu's Art of War says, when fighting an enemy, and the bugger is losing, NEVER corner him. Always give him a chance to escape. Cause if he can't escape, he will fight till death, which causes bigger reprecussions for yourself. You see, I made a mistake and I have a headache now.


Thursday, September 16, 2004

the difference is..

Just now I went for an appointment........somewhere. Never mind that. I parked in this open air car park. Parking fee was RM1 per hour. Fair enough, I thought. After parking my car the parking attendant, a young Indian guy gave me my parking ticket. They had no machines to stamp the time and he just wrote it down himself. 11.53am.

I went into the building for my appointment. Ok, ok, it was a whorehouse. I just heard from very reliable sources that they had just imported a few Russian delicacies. Since I am leaving to go back to UK soon, I decided it would be cheaper to try some exquisite Russian cuisine here. My verdict -- it was cheap and good.

My appointment lasted slightly under an hour. Just as I was walking out of the building to the car park, I looked at my watch. Fuck. 12.50pm. I ran all the fucking way to the parking attendant's booth so that I would not have to pay for an extra hour.

I reached there, still panting, I gave him my ticket. He looked at me, looked at his watch and wrote on the ticket 12.54pm.

Parking attendant (PA) : "Two ringgit please"

Vincent : "Two? What time is it?"

PA : "12.54pm. You are one minute late"

Vincent : "Aiyah macha one minute late only what. I had too much fun upstairs you know. The Russian blondie wouldn't let me leave"

PA : Sorry macha. I wrote the time on the ticket already. Too late."

Vincent : Sheepishly hands over RM2.

Which got me thinking. If it wasn't an Indian guy there. This is very stereotypic, but true in most cases. Now, if only the parking attendant was a Chinese guy.

Vincent : Hehe. Tailo. How are you? *Hands over parking ticket*

PA : *Looks at his watch* *Has an evil look at the corner of his eye* *Surpresses a smile*

Vincent : *Innocent look* How much is it?

PA : RM1.50

Vincent : *Understands why and smiles* Ok. Here. *Hands over the money*

PA : Have a nice day.

Vincent : Same to you.

And if it was a Malay guy.

Vincent : Hello. Selamat pagi. *Hands over ticket*

PA : ..........

Vincent : Hello. Selamat pagi. *Hands over ticket*

PA : ........

Vincent : Kanineh! Bangun la! Late already la!

PA : *Sleepy eyes* Huh? Huh?

Vincent : How much to pay?

PA : RM2.

Vincent : WTF? What time is it?

PA : 1pm already.

Vincent : Oi, friend. I reached here 10 minutes ago. But you were fucking sleeping.

PA : Sorry la boss. I wrote on the ticket already. You have to pay RM2.

Vincent : Where's your boss? I wanna complain.

PA : Sorry la. Here, have a cigarette. Its on me.

So, which is the best deal? I don't really know. The Chinese guy's deal was excellent for me. But his boss wouldn't be very happy if he found out what happened. The Malay guy gave me a cigarette. I don't fucking smoke. But at least he gave me something. The Indian guy gave me the crappiest deal, but followed the book. On the other hand, you could call him fucking stupid. Its all a matter of perspective.

Who is right? I don't know. You tell me.

**In case it wasn't obvious to you, the Chinese guy pocketed the RM0.50 after writting on the ticket a time which was more convenient. That way, he profits RM0.50 and I save RM0.50.


Wednesday, September 15, 2004

go die la..

Every Wednesday, I read in the papers, in the Aunt Agony page about kids and their fucking problems. Every Sunday, I read in the papers, in the Aunt Agony page about adults and their fucking problems. Haha. To me, its actually quite fucking funny.

Some people, or most of them in fact say that they have contemplated suicide. I actually find that fucking stupid. I don't know. Maybe my heart is made of ice. Maybe cause I have seen enough of hardship, that nothing seems really difficult after all. This morning, I read of a guy who wanted to commit suicide cause he was addicted to porn. Haha. Fuck. In that case, I think every guy would have committed suicide at one time or another.

Anyways, I know of many such people. Talking to my Kay quite sometime ago, I was actually discussing whether it was feasible for me and George to murder her, steal her money and frame her boyfriend for it. (yeah, we have something wrong with our heads, sue us) That conversation diverted to whether it was possible for us to kill her and then make it look like a suicide. She said that that wasn't possible, cause nobody would believe that she would commit suicide.

Fair enough, I thought. Its true. Nobody would believe it. So we settled for the plan to murder her and frame the boyfriend. But thats not the issue. Anyways, we later had a chat about who we knew that was most likely to commit suicide. Not surprisingly, we both came up with the same person.

It was something about that person Annie -- she kept bitching about her life. How it sucked. How people kept screwing around with her. How she was unlucky in love and all that fucking bullshit. Then I analysed Annie's face and her mannerisms. Well, any fool would think that she was a walking timebomb. I don't know. Its just like that.

Fast forward to today. Was talking to Andy and Seta and we were discussing about another dude who was most likely to commit suicide. And we all agreed on the same bugger. He likes to complain that live sucks. That sometimes its not worth it. I reckon, its the people who complain the most about life are the people most likely to jump down a building or hang themselves.

I say, fuck all these people. If they at all tell me they wanna die, well, I'll ask them, "How?" I can provide ropes, I can buy some insecticides and all. I say, this world is getting overpopulated, time to flush out all the buggers who don't want to live. The less people there are, the more oxygen there is left for the rest of us to breathe.

Its fucked up I tell you. There are people who would do anything to live for a little while more. Kids dying of AIDS. Teenagers with terminal cancer. People with so much to live for, people who hadn't lived their lives to the fullest are going to die.

But healthy people, albeit with some problems want to kill themselves. What the fuck? Everybody has problems. How severe? That depends. But is your problem as severe as the little kid lying on a bed, with the skin clinging to his bones, with a few strands of hair stuck to his scalp at odd places? Is your problem as drastic as children of war torn countries, wondering when their next meal is going to come? Is your problem as excruciating as the mothers of those children watching their own children suffer before their very eyes?

So your boyfriend dumped you after you got de-flowered. So your target girl rejected you in front of your classmates. So your friends don't like you. Big fucking deal. There are bigger problems in life than that.

Go visit a hospital. Keep your eyes open for that mother sitting in the corner, with a tear in her eye because her baby is in the treatment room and the nurses are sucking out the phelgm from his lungs. Listen to her mumble a little prayer under her breath with whatever language. Put yourself in her shoes.

If you ever want to die, or think of dying, think about all that shit. If you still think that your problem is worse than that, well, fuck off then. Go hang yourself. But before you do that, make a pact with God or something, ask him to give your life to that kid somewhere in that hospital bed.



In today's Star newspaper.

Same pictures in UPSR English paper and workbook

For those of you who are lazy to click on the link, the story basically goes like this.

Malaysia has this stupid government exam for Standard 6 kids (12 years old). Now, one of the questions set in the exam was exactly the same as that of a workbook that some of the kids might have already done.

Obviously, the fucking moron who set the question and blatantly plagiarised from the workbook has a testicle for a brain. Common sense tells you that you only cheat when you won't get caught. Surely the dumb ass would figured out that he would be caught?

Another issue, is regarding our dumb ass politician Mr Moustachio in the article.

Defending MES’s credibility, Hishammuddin said people should not question the syndicate’s experience and reputation in setting examination questions. “This is just one question,” he said.

Hey twit! It doesn't fucking matter whether its one question or two questions or all the fucking questions. Plagiarism is plagiarism. Period. How the fuck can the question setter for a government exam be allowed to do such a thing, and how the fuck did his exploits go unnoticed?

Just wait. When I grow up, and earn enough money, and money is the key factor here, I am going to take over the whole Education Ministry. While at that, I might even take over the government. Then I can flush out all the twits that exist in our society.


Tuesday, September 14, 2004

frog under a glass

"Seperti katak di bawah tempurung"

You know what that is? Its an old Malay proverb. Directly translated, it means "like a frog below a coconut shell." Yups, coconut shell. No, my title was not a typo. I'll get to it in a bit. Anyways, that proverb is used to describe country bumkins -- people who are not exposed well to their surroundings. People who do not have a common general knowledge of stuffs around them.

The story has it that there is a family of frogs living under an old coconut shell. They have never left that coconut shell before. Water seeps in from the sides after the rain, and food is in abundance with loads of flies and mosquitoes around. Heh. That coconut was probably in somekinda rubbish dump or something.

Anyways, one fine day, the young frog wanted to go explore his surroundings. He hopped around just a while until he saw a cow. Now, obviously he had never seen another living creature before besides insects and frogs, so he didn't have a clue that a cow was in fact a cow.

He scurried back home to his coconut shell and reported his findings to his father. His father, being the oldest and supposed wise one, had never seen the cow before. He couldn't lose face in front of his kids. So, when the young frog told his father that he saw a monster frog, the father asked, "How big?"

The father then breathed in a lot of oxygen and puffed himself up until he was 2 time his original size. Then he asked the young frog, "Was he this big?"

"No. Larger"

The father frog puffed in again till he was 3 times his orginal size. "Was he this big?"

"No. Larger"

Father frog puffed in again till he was 5 times his original size. "Was he thi-"

BOOM! The dumb ass frog exploded himself cause of a small matter called air pressure.

I think that that proverb was very suitable for discribing sheltered people. In other words, or actually in my words -- stowns. Stowns is actually a term I use to describe Small Towners. Hah. City folk always make fun of stowns anyway. So, as a tribute, I even gave them a name.

Anyways, language hass to change with time. Certain words which were used back then are not appropriate these days. Like saying, "John is having sex with Mary." Nobody says that these days. Its simpler and more in trend to say, "John is fucking Mary." You get the idea, I hope.

So, that proverb "katak dibawah tempurung" isn't really suitable these days. Cause these days, save the odd few, most people have been to the city and seen things. Most people have access to the Internet and newspapers bring word of the outside world. So, while in the past, people could blame their ignorance on the lack of exposure, most people can no longer do that.

Especially the city folks -- they have no excuse. Which is why the new term of "katak dibawah gelas" comes in. It literally means "frog under a glass". Why? Cause a glass, unlike a cocunut shell is transparent. The frog can see all around. But being frogs, and stupid ones, they still remain oblivious to the surroundings and the changes around them even though they are constantly exposed to the news, even though they are surrounded by those changes. These frogs have very bad general knowledge and ought to be shot.

I even know of a Form 3 kid who didn't know what National Service was. I mean, fuck you kid. Its something that involves you and you ain't even heard of it? What the fuck?

I actually know a lot of such frogs.


Monday, September 13, 2004


You know the song Asmaradana?

Its the theme song for Puteri Gunung Ledang. Chances are, if you stay in Malaysia, you would have heard it before. Maybe you didn't know what its called. But this is it.

Its a damn beautiful song. Nice tune and everything. Just downloaded it. Problem is, it kills me to listen to a song and not know what it means. I couldn't figure out the lyrics, so I did a simple Yahoo! search for it.


Apparently not.In the past, any lyric could be found by a simple Google search. Now, you gotta filter out the blogs first. Cause most probably, the search results lead you to someone's blog. Irritating? Well, for non-bloggers yeah. For bloggers, nah.

Well, I lied.It was fucking irritating for half of the search results to lead me to Ravishing. I don't blame the author that her blog screwed up the search engine. In fact, was a pretty nice page to look at. Has a nice layout and everything.

How can I blame someone when my blog does the exact same thing? Many a time, people were looking for playboy pics of Svetlana Khorkina and they bumped into my site. Many a time, people were looking for aneroxic pics of Mary Kate Olsen, and they bumped into my site.

Who do you blame then? Its those stupid search engines.

Besides, its good as a blogger to have someone accidentally run by your page. Increases your statistics and all that, you know. And who knows, might find a few more members of your fan club.

I finally found the lyrics on someone else's blog. Which is again damn weird, cause I usually hate reading blogs with lyrics on them. But this one served me well.

The irony of stuffs, eh?


animal lovers

Yesterday, I was at this majorly huge pet shop. Damn. Fucking huge place with all sorts of animals. Could have confused it for a zoo. There were all sorts of fucking animals there. Snakes and crocodiles even. Now I know what Dexter was talking about when he said there was a crocodile in the pet shop. I thought he was dreaming up stuffs.

Who in the right sense of mind keeps a crocodile as a pet? And phythons too. When small, sure the bugger looks cute. When big, whats going to happen? Probably have to feed him a dog every now and then. What the fuck?

Although, I thought it would be cool one day to buy a few phythons and keep it in my house. Then I can save some money by cancelling my Astro subscription to Animal Planet. All I need to do is get a real good videocam and pick up a few stray dogs by the roadside. Fuck. Then I can even film a movie like Anaconda. I reckon, however crap my movie is, it surely can't be as crap as the shit that they are showing in the cinema now.

Walking on, I found the dogs section. And there I saw it. They were fucking selling Ewoks. I couldn't believe my eyes. I always thought that Ewoks were creatures that lived on some planet Endor or some shit like that. Didn't know how they managed to catch those Ewoks. And I always thought the export business was only bound between countries. Didn't know that they practiced Inter-Planetary Exporting.

Then I saw the price tag. RM1699 (USD450) for that Ewok? What the fuck? Its not that cute. Its fucking ugly. Here's a pic. Spot the Ewok.

They even had a name for the Ewok. They called it a Shih-tzu. Must have been some kinda Endorian language. Cause there is no such word in the English dictionary. Not the last I checked. I think it was actually meant to read "Shit Zoo". Which would have been more appropriate cause there was quite a lot of shit around.

Then, I happened to walk past this room which had a glass partition. Looking in, I found that it was a hairdressing saloon for dogs. Fuck the world man. Since when do dogs need a fucking haircut? Unless I am very much mistaken, I don't think the dogs even like to get their hair cut. Not to mention dyed. Yups. You heard it right. Dye. Some people have too much money. Why the fuck would you want to dye your dog's hair? Wait wait. First question. Why the fuck would you want to even dye your hair in the first place? Then answer the dog question.

Another room, another partition. Dog obedience school. In there, a few humans sohais trying to get their dog to obey a few instructions. In case they didn't already know. Dogs can't speak English. They bark. Thats what dogs do. They bark as and when they like. You want to talk to a dog? Bark! Fucking hell. Then it happened. This dude called out to his dog, " Come here, Junior." The dog walked halfway to him, then decided to sniff the ground. He picked up a scent, and veered off course, found the wall, and took a piss. Immediately a worker stormed into the room and mopped up the pee. Oh fuck me. I couldn't stop fucking laughing.

So, there is a guy whose job is to train dogs in languages the dogs don't understand. There is also a guy whose job is to pay money to people to help train their dogs to come when they are called. And there's a guy whose job is to mop up dog piss? Its a waste of time I tell you. My dog comes when I call his name. He comes when I have food. Other than that, I don't care what the fuck he does. Oh, and he pisses on the big tree in my house. And I didn't even need to teach him to do that.

Fuck. I tell you what those things are called. An abundance of job opportunities in unnecessary areas. Its like the government paying people to sit in all the government offices to drink coffee and shake legs. Its better to pay those buggers to get out on the streets to pick up the rubbish. So that the country is cleaner you know.

If you are one of those people who spends RM2000 on Ewoks, or dyes your dog's hair (or your hair for that matter), or buys crocodiles and snakes, I have a suggestion for you.

Take the money that you were supposed to spend, give it to me. I'll give you back half of it along with a stack of porn. I'll burn it into a few CDs and give it to you. The cost of the CD will be fully absorbed by my own cost. The benefits :

1) You can have as much fun as you like with it, you can show it to your friends just as you show your friends the dog. Plus, your friend would like you more after that.

2) At least with the CD, somethings can come when you want it to.

3) Although both cases might put you in a sticky or messy situation, one of the sticky situations leaves you satisfied while the other causes you to curse like hell.

4) Dogs die. Dogs get old. Dead dogs and old dogs are a pest. Not to mention they are fugly. The data on the CD and the contents of the CD remain the same. They don't deteoriate with age.

So, you save money, and you get more pleasure out of my deal. Oh. And if you dog dies, the pet shop ain't going to give you a new dog. But if your CDs get scratched, I'll give you back a new one. Oh, I'll also throw in a free Nokia handphone cover.

*I am not an Ah Beng ok. I don't use a waistpouch and I don't have blonde hair.


Saturday, September 11, 2004

puteri gunung ledang

*No spoilers here. Fear not.*

I just came back from watching Puteri Gunung Ledang. The stereotype was correct. Me and my brother, along with an old man and his daughter were the only Chinese people in the whole cinema. Dissapointing that hardly anybody else besides the Malays want to watch this show.

Anyways, if you didn't already know the story, here's what its all about. So, this chick, Gusti Puteri, the sister of the Sultan of Majapahit, falls in love with Hang Tuah, Melaka's finest warrior. He is actually their admiral. Anyways, some other dude wants to attack Majapahit. So, the Sultan decides to marry off his sister to the dude.

Unfortunately, she had already ran to Melaka to stay in Mount Ledang and wait for Hang Tuah(what the fuck for, I dunno). So the Sultan has another plan. He decides to marry her off to the Sultan of Melaka. Cause at that time, Melaka was some kinda big bully. Nobody dares to disturb them. The Sultan of Melaka, being a horny fucker, thinks that that is a good idea. Hang Tuah is torn between his loyalty to his country and his love to his chick. A lot of supernatural stuffs here. That chick -- fucking dangerous bitch witch.

Let me break it down for you.

Special effects - 1/5. Well, to be honest, the special effects suck. I wasn't expecting Dragonball effects like what we saw in the Matrix. This ain't Hollywood. But then again, I expect something more than an amateur video shoot. The explosions look crap. Looks like some kinda yellow flames that some moron drew with Flash. Another scene with butterflies flying around Hang Tuah looks like yellow aliens visiting him. There was a fight scene in the beginning with a seriously horrible shoot. Cameraman ought to be shot and castrated. Big boo boo there.

Story - 4/5. Nothing much to do with the movie actually. Its the story by itself. An old legend. Read any of those kiddies story book and you will basically find the same thing. But the way the love story was filmed, I really have to say, its one of best love stories I have ever watched. And thats saying a lot. All those crap shows like "A Walk to Remember" -- they lose hands down to this.

Script - 5/5. No shits. I actually don't know whether the lines are cheesy. But I actually think they were damn beautiful. Never knew that the old Malay language was so poetic. Events and people are described as another object, leaving much room for interpretation. Maybe its cause I haven't heard people say stuffs like that before. Cause really, saying those stuffs in English would sound fucking corny.

"Jikalau kekanda tidak kembali, dinda berjanji akan menyusuli kekanda. Menginjak pada tanah yang sama, bernafas pada udara yang sama." (or something along those lines) Now, try saying that in English. "If you don't come back, I swear I will go looking for you. Until we step on the same soil and breathe the same air." Nah, it just doesn't cut it. Besides, I and YOU do not make really accurate translations for Kekanda and Adinda. It just doesn't have the same effect.

Acting - 3/5. I always liked M. Nasir. I always thought he was a cool dude. And so, for this, as the hero, its well suited. Tiara Jacqulina as Puteri was great too. She's got a damn fierce looking face but sweetens up during the love scenes. There is a part where she is bewitching the jungle vines -- damn, she actually looks hot in there. The Sultan of Melaka, though is a real prick. Ain't got a clue what the fuck his name is. He looks like Rashid Sidek. And I fucking hate Rashid Sidek. Firstly, he is one hell of a fucking ugly king. But thats not his fault. I think, he really can't act for shits. He looks like a horny teenager in the scene with his wife (1st wife). Besides, he looks like Rashid Sidek. And I fucking hate Rashid Sidek. Oh, have I mentioned that before?

Musical Score - 3/5. I love the theme song. It really makes you think of the jungle. Some kinda spiritual stuffs. The other parts and bits and pieces were equally good. Some of the songs for the dances really makes you wanna get up and dance to the tune. Sound effects are kinda dull though. There is nothing special about it. The usual Ka-boom for explosions. The usual eerie dum-dum-dum sound in a tense situation. Or the usual high pitch tone when the characters find out something -- bad news or whatever.

All in all, I wouldn't say its a show I will watch again. The only way I'll watch it again is with a chick by my side. Not cause it sucks, but cause its not much fun watching love stories again. I say, watch it once and walk out of the cinema a happy person. Its good, but not really fantastic. I recommend it if you wanna catch a movie and don't know what to watch. I also recommend it as a partner kinda movie. You know, with your girlfriend or wife or mistress or concubine. Go watch it, let them cry a bit, then go home and have a nice shag.

One of my best friends asked me what show to watch with this guy she was going out with. First date. I told her to watch this show. She said that the guy doesn't watch Malay shows. Big lie. What she actually meant was that BOTH of them don't watch Malay shows.

Just now, she told me that she couldn't have chosen a worse show to watch on their first date --Anacondas 2.

Fucking hell, I told her to avoid that sohai show. What on Earth would compel people to watch a bunch of retarded cunts getting chased by a bunch of fat overgrown cold-blooded snakes? -- and on their first date too. I don't fucking know. That show sounded like a lame ass show right from the beginning.

Moral of the story : ALWAYS trust Vincent.


poo story 2

My mum told me this story just now. She went to the hospital to have a routine check-up. No biggie. Anyways, while waiting for me to pick her up, she went to the cafeteria to have a drink.

In the cafeteria, sitting in the corner were a young couple, probably in their late 20s. Next to the table, a push-chair with their baby in it. These twats were nicely dressed and everything, probably yuppies of some sort.

The baby's cry disrupted the tranquility of the place. And we all know about those babies. They don't exactly cry, they scream bloody murder. Its a fucking marvel, those babies. How it is possible that something so small can be so loud and irritating?

The woman bent over to pick up her baby and did the most fucking unbelievable of things. She opened his pants and took off his diapers. There -- right in the middle of the fucking cafeteria. The guy passed her a few pieces of tissue paper and she wiped the baby's ass. Then, they put the dirty diaper and the used tissue paper into a plastic bag and threw the rubbish bag in the bin provided for food waste.

Happily putting the diaper back on for the baby, those two fuck-holes sat there laughing among themselves with no sign of guilt or what shits. Firstly, its a cafeteria. People EAT there. Secondly, its a hospital. Its supposed to be a hygienic place. Thirdly, which sick fuck does things like that?

Maybe cause they thought that they were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria.

Maybe cause they thought that the cafeteria was empty besides my mum and themselves.

Maybe cause they never learned in school not to do stuffs like that.Maybe cause they didn't even go to school in the first place.

Or maybe, just maybe they have shit for brains.

I don't fucking know.

I tell you something though. They were sure as hell fucking lucky I wasn't there. Cause after I finished with them, they probably would have to hide their face in that dirty poo-infested diaper. Damn. Wrong place at the wrong time.

This world and its people, sure are a fucked up bunch of living organisms.


Friday, September 10, 2004


I live for food.

Thats it. Simple as you like.

I love food.

I fucking love food.

The million dollar question, money not withstanding --

1) Would you prefer to dress in your shorts and torn t-shirts, sit on a stool by the roadside, and pay RM2.50 for a Maggi Goreng that fills your stomach


2) Would you prefer to dress up in a suit and a tie, sit on a fucking nice big chair that even J-Lo with her big ass would feel comfortable and pay RM250 for a plate of rabbit's leg that don't even fill a kid's tummy?

Once a while, option 2 sounds brilliant. Its fun, I reckon to dress up all pompous once a while. Sip your soup so politely that even the guy next to you can't hear a thing. Supress your laughter. Say thank you to the waiter for every darn thing.

Sometimes, I reckon, pampering is a necessary motivation to work harder. The more I enjoy that kinda lifestyle, the harder I strive to make sure that I can fucking afford to do that next time.

Bah, what the fuck am I talking about?

Moral of the story : Sleep, like pot, makes you high and happy, but also makes you talk gibberish.

*But who says gibberish don't make sense?


If you hadn't already noticed, I finally decided to post up a picture. Might give some of you who don't know me a chance to see what kinda person I am.

Before you decide to make any wise-cracks remarks, stop and look what the dude in the picture is trying to tell you, ok?

Thursday, September 09, 2004

free time

A lot of buggers have been complaining about how they have had too short a holiday. How they dread the date which they have to fly off and continue studying.

Me, I actually look forward to it. I'll be flying off in approximately one and a half week's time. And I can't bloody wait for it. Holidays have been the usual stuffs for me. For one, I have been working throughout, something that I have done for the past 3 years.

No, not some job at McDonalds. Proper work related to my field of study. And no, not going into work as and how I like. I mean, proper work. I have just over a week to do whatever stuffs I didn't get down to doing, to see whichever chicks I haven't gotten down to seeing, and to watch whatever stuffs I haven't gotten doing to watching.

I did have a bleaming good time at camp. I did watch the entire season 4 of The Sopranos (fucking good show). I did go snorkelling. I read all the Harry Potter books and finished To Kill A Mockingbird. And I worked. I call that productive. Oh, and I slept a lot. Whenever I could.

Probably did not spend enough time going out. I haven't seen been to Ikano. I've been to KLCC ONCE. Once more in 1U and once in Times Square. Oh fuck it. I haven't met up with that many friends. Why? I am inclined to blame work.

You see, my hobby, among my most favourite pasttimes is sleeping. So, whatever free time I have, I sleep. That's about it. Sleep comes first. Money comes second. Sitting in my lounge watching TV/surfing the Net comes third. Everybody else comes after that. Chicks, dogs, fishes, whatever.

Yeah, I am an anti-social prick.

Sue me.

my happiness

Some people feel happy after a shag.

Some people feel happy after sniffing glue.

Some people feel happy after they get a bonus.

Some people feel happy when the country celebrates Merdeka.

Me? I feel happy when I wake up at 10am and think, "Ah, fuck, I am on holidays." And then go back to bed till 12pm. Finished my vacation training yesterday.

Oh yeah, I feel damn fucking good.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

my friend

People say I think too much. That's actually half true. You see, I have an imaginary friend. Or rather, two. Those two buggers, one guy and one girl, help me think a lot. But those two dudes, they are not exactly the stereotype imaginary friend that kids have. No, his name is not Bob the Space Cowboy. In fact, they have no names. More of a mirror of myself. Like talking to yourself in a mirror, you know.

The guy, obviously more dominant of the two, talks to me more. No, he has no name. But to make my life easier, let’s call him Vince. And the girl, fuck, I ain’t even going to give her a fucking name. Anyways, Vince and the girl, they appear when I am alone. Well, DOH. Otherwise I look stupid. They, don’t however appear together. Probably hate each other’s asses. But that’s not the point.

The point is, everybody should have imaginary friends. Vince, has on many occasions helped me form my own opinions about stuffs. Its like a debate with myself. Cool. He is my Angel and my Satan. When people tell me that I think too much, they are wrong. Its actually Vince that does all the thinking, and I then argue stuffs with him.

Vince also makes a good motivational tool. When I am studying, and can’t figure out some shits, he appears and scolds me for being so fucking stupid. Immediately, I can do any sums of stuffs like that. Whenever I need something that needs debating, Vince is always there to take one side. We then figure out together the best and most logical solution.

Just like John Forbes Nash.

* I'll tell you more about more conversations with Vince next day.
* I am not crazy, just a little eccentric.
* Eccentricity is the essense of all genius.