Tuesday, November 30, 2004
international tuition fees
I read an article from a certain infamous whinny Baby (who has a new blog btw) today. Check it out. Or if you are lazy, here's a summary. She is basically complaining about how some governments discriminate against international students by charging them more than local students.
Labels: current issues
Actually, she's not the only one to complain, I have heard many such complains from other people as well. Here in the UK, tuition fees per annum for international students have to pay around GBP8000 for Arts based subjects and about GBP11000 for Science based subjects. On the other hand, or British counterparts pay between NOTHING to about GBP2000. The fee that they have to pay depends on how much their parents are earning.
Recently, and it is still an issue, the government is trying to rise the tuition fees for local students. It was estimated that the cost of educating each student is around GBP3000 per annum. So, obviously, the government is losing a shit load of money subsidising British students in university. Now, all that extra money has to come from somewhere.
One, the most obvious source would be from the government coffers. That would directly mean that taxpayers have to pay for that subsidy. Actually, that shouldn't be a problem cause they are paying to educate their own youth. But the British also have a big major issue with a lot of shits like their National Health Service (NHS) - waiting in their hospitals is even worse than waiting in our own government hospitals. They also have a lot of shits with the civil service (London's tube is a wayyy fucked up thing that needs a shit load of money to overhaul the whole system). And all that in spite of the fact that the British pay damn high taxes.
The better and more logical option to ensure that the universities don't need so much subsidy from the government is by squeezing that money out of the international students. If their estimate of GBP3000 pounds is correct, that means that 3 international students are actually paying for the fees on behalf on 8 of their British counterparts. Which sounds really fucked up, no?
In exchange, we are entitled to an education and their NHS, which isn't much to shout about. We still have to wait 45 minutes for an ambulance even though you have a concussion and have already puked blood (true story) and queue 3 hours for admission in a hospital, among other stuffs.
But anyways, the point is - what's my take on all this? Why should I pay for the poorer British students who can't afford to go to university?
Well, I don't like any of it. But I understand it. Its not discrimination. Its the most logical action by the British government. You have to look at it from their point of view. Before getting pissed offed, think about it. Why take money from their own people when they can very well squeeze that money out of foreigners? I would do the same if I were in their shoes.
Labels: current issues
Monday, November 29, 2004
I have been listening to Hitz FM a lot recently. Online of course. Only do it when I am in the computer lab, and I plug in my heahphones to listen to music. When in my room, I prefer to listen to my collection of MP3.
Being away from home, my only link with Malaysia is by reading The Star Online. But that's just news. Listening to a local radio does more than that. I learned many new things.....things that taught me that it is unique to be Malaysian. Sometimes uniquely stupid.
The most frequent and irritating advertisement that I heard is that Hotlink advertisement with the Moo-Moo cow thingy. Some stupid bitch complains that another stupid bitch's phone is crazy because instead of a toot-toot ring tone, she hears a moo-moo ring tone.
Ok. What the fuck is this thing with phones these days? What's wrong with the ringing sound of an ordinary telephone? Why is it that for handphones, ring-ring tones are unacceptable? Some idiot came out with the bright idea to introduce more creative music as ringtones. Tunes like Mission Impossible is fine, but its over the top when some phone actually SING. That's just stupid.
Now, not content with selling ring tones to people with too much money, some morons found it a good idea to change what we hear when we call somebody. Look, I want to hear the usual toot-toot....toot-toot when I call somebody. I don't want to hear cows bloody mooing or dogs barking or rabbits having sex.
Why, why, why on Earth do people pay for things like that?
Also, why is it the increasing trend for all phones to come with a bloody camera? Phones are for talking to people. Why the need to put a camera, or a radio to a phone? Its not that I don't appreciate technology. As an engineer, I love technology. But not stupid inappropriate technology. Go develop a thin phone, or a super small phone. But don't fucking try to fit cameras and TVs on to a phone. Since phone makers are so interested in fitting other stuffs into a phone, here's an idea.
Why not try incorporating a vibrator** into a phone? That would bring a whole new dimension to the term 'phone-sex'.
**Don't try to be a smart ass and tell me that all phones can vibrate. Just because it can vibrate, that does not make it a vibrator. Just like, if a donkey fell into a hole, that doesn't mean he's an asshole. Also, just because Jay Chou is a 'good singer', that does not make him any less of a fag.
Friday, November 26, 2004
something's not right
There's something wrong with the world. Or the world around me, at least. Stuffs like snow dropping in November is weird, but still acceptable. Vincent getting fan mail from Ah Lians is weird, but still welcome (I'll tell you that story another day).
But no,theres been something really fucked up in motion. I think some higher power recently got a sex change and is now a woman. I am talking about the footballing Gods. Zeus, Hades and the likes. What's the problem, you ask?
In my first year here, I stayed in Uni Halls. Moved to a house last year and moved back into halls again for my final year this year. Now, the TV room in halls is called the Junior Common Room (JCR). Theres a mother of a huge 55" TV and a pool table in the JCR. Anyways, in the JCR, the choice of TV programme is decided either by the first person who got there, or by majority. However, football takes precedence over everything. As long as there is a football match on TV, don't fucking hope to watch anything else.
In my first year, every game that was on, the JCR would be packed with people. For big games, people would even sit on the pool table to watch. Most of the international students watched football as well. If a girl came into the JCR asking to switch the channel to some random soap (like Footballer's Wives) she would be faced with a whole room of people laughing at her.
This year, its all different. Its been more than once when people were watching things other than football. Unheard of, I thought. But that was the first week, and I figured, never mind, stupid freshers will learn in time. It did not get any better. The other day, there were only THREE of us watching a game. A group of chicks came in and since they were majority, they switched it to some sohai show called Little Britian.
I am the ONLY international student who watches football. Which is fucking weird. Its fucking football! The only wankers who don't watch football are the Americans for fucks sake! Well, they do watch football, but to them its a game played with the hand. Anyways, that's not the point. Its sacrilageous to the footballing Gods. Theres a perfectly good game going on and only a bunch of people watch it? What the fuck is wrong with the people this year?
The final straw was two days ago. I posted an article about a certain Legend. People thought I was talking about myself and my acheivements. Yes, yes fantastic. I do that all the time. But I can assure you, when I am talking about great things and myself, I do tend to include my name in it.
But for fuck's sake. That was not me. Two days ago, the day I posted that article was the day of Sir Alex Ferguson's 1000th game in charge of Manyoo. And nobody realised that was the reason for the article? That THAT day was that beautiful day in Barcelona. That his legendary status were cemented because of THAT day? Not even the Manyoo fans realised what I was talking about? What the fuck is going on here?
Something's clearly not right here. I am beginning to get really scared of this world. So may weird things......and I don't have any control in it......help...
Thursday, November 25, 2004
I watched the trailer for this show about a month ago and felt that this was a show I had to watch. It looked cool, like an action packed movie about some kind of conspiracy. Well, its about a bunch of soldiers who fought in the Gulf War and they have some weird dreams about people implanting things into them. Think Wolverine in X-Men. Same thing.
I went into the cinema with medium expectations of the movie. I left the cinema thinking, 'What the fuck was all that?'
Look, if there is ever a weird movie, this would be it. If there is ever a movie you could stop half way and think, 'What the fuck is happening here?' , this would be it.
There is NOTHING to review about this movie. After reading this, you think, 'Hey Vincent, what the fuck kind of movie review is this? You suck man.'
Well, those two lines sum up exactly how I feel about the movie.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Its hard living in someone elses footsteps. Everything you do gets compared to what the guy did. And he's not just any ordinary guy. He's a legend. He's known for what he does. People still talk about him these days. About what he did, about what he would have done in your position.
You don't get a chance to show people what you can do. You get judged even before you start. Why? Cause The Legend says this. The Legend says that. Cause The Legend takes one look at you and condemns you to incompetence just from the way he stares at you.
What made The Legend who he is? All because of THAT day. He's great, no doubt about that. He did a great job THAT day. Wait, no. He did a fucking great job. But who's to say other people couldn't have done the same?
That's because legends do not create themselves. People create legends. It is the nature of human beings to tell tales - tales of beings greater than themselves. Tales of people doing extraordinary things, things that they can't do themselves. And boy, you should listen to those tales.
Whatever happens - you lose. It doesn't make a difference if you manage to repeat what he did. The point is that He did it before. He did it first. And under adverse conditions. You, you had time to plan it. You had a blueprint for success staring down your face. He had no such luxury.
And if you fail, nobody will laugh at you. In those circumstances, a laugh is not insulting. A laugh is a compliment. It means that you made a blunder, and could have done it if not for that blunder. It means that you still have an excuse for failure.
What's worse that somebody laughing at you in a time of failure? Its when someone looks at you sympathetically, tilting their head to the side while talking at you, giving you a pitiful look. It translates to "Its ok. Nobody expected you to be able to do it in the first place." It means that no matter what you did differently, you'll never be able to change the end result. That's the ultimate insult.
In the perspective of The Legend, nothing can ever happen to taint his image from THAT day. Moments of brilliance, flashes of magic are never born from luck, and never disappear. Neither do memories of it.
And that's why, its good to be a legend. Not a fairy tale, but a legend.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
My friend Andy has a few problems. I am concerned for his welfare. Firstly, a few months ago he got a new housemate in his house in Australia (he's studying in Australia, you see). He says she's a Korean girl.
Now, I've seen a lot of Korean girls. The thing about these Korean chicks is that they do tend to look like an Asian barbie doll. Honestly, I haven't seen a single Korean girl who I will kick out of bed. I mean, its not as if all of them are damn hot, I am saying that I won't kick them out of bed. You get the drift? So, I suspect that Andy is shagging this Korean housemate of his.
He keeps denying it saying that she resembles a pork chop. You see, he's a bad liar too. Cause I like eating pork chops, and pork chops are usually of a lean cut, very little fat. So I think pork chops are an ideal description for a fit chick. But anyways, I already established long ago that Andy is indeed lying to us and is indeed shagging his Korean chick. Ok, that story settled, lets put that aside for a while.
College term just ended in Australia, and he just got back to Malaysia a couple of days ago. Chatting on MSN with him and another friend Keng, he was telling us that his new maid is crazy and told his family that she has psychic powers. I told him that when old Indonesian women tell you that they are psychic, I won't brush it away. I adviced him to get his mum to check the maid's bag and look for a glass jar. Especially a glass jar filled with formalin to preserve a dead fetus.
Now, if you are a foreigner reading this, you will be thinking that I am a sick fuck. So here's a sidenote story. Some people keep dead fetuses in a glass jar. That 'thing' is called a toyol. Toyols are used in black magic. It is believed that if you feed the toyol (don't ask me how) and look after it properly, the toyol will help you out with a lot of stuffs. Like cursing your ex-girlfriend to grow a dick or some jerk guy to have maggots infest his rectum. In short, never mess with somebody who has a toyol.
So, Andy started getting scared. That damn chicken. Keng and I then convinced him to make friends with his Indonesian maid. You know, talk to her nicely, give her some money, talk about her son, stuffs like that. I then pointed out that if he is nice enough to her, she might lend him the toyol to use to help him get the Korean pork chop of his. Cause its the holidays now and she went back to Korea as well.
Andy wasn't too pleased with our suggestions, calling us naughty names. You know it when an Indian guy starts cursing in Cantonese (we taught him all those words!). However, its also because Andy doesn't know any Hindi or Tamil words. I then later realised why he wasn't too pleased.
T.O.Y.O.L. = The One Your Only Love
Pork chops was his TOYOL all the time. My mistake.
Monday, November 22, 2004
I have been getting a lot of fucked up dreams recently. Not quite to the magnitude of the SuperAnts dream, but they were nonetheless fucking weird.
Its not as if those dreams were scary or funny. Its not happy or sad. There is no conclusion. Its just damn stupid dreams which don't have any damn meaning.
Like for instance, I had a dream that day then I went down to my hostel cafeteria for dinner. When I reached the serving area, I was suddenly wearing a chef's hat and an apron serving people the food. I remember eating the food while serving it. And thats when I woke up.
There was another one where I made an appointment with my uncle to meet up in the city centre here. He's not my favourite uncle or anything, just a random uncle who stays in Malaysia. The dream was that I was waiting for him for ages, and then I rang him on his mobile phone asking him where the hell he was. His reply : "In Malaysia la, where else?" And then I woke up.
The most idiotic of the lot was last night when I dreamt that I was sleeping (the irony) and somebody knocked on my door. I yelled for the fella to fuck off. A female's voice replied OK. Next thing I know, there was a naked hot brunette standing next to my bed. I asked her what she was doing in my room.
"You asked me to fuck you."
"No, bitch, I asked you to fuck off."
"Oh, ok. Sorry"
And then she picked up her clothes and left. I cursed at her and I went back to sleep (in my dream). And then I woke up (for real).
So, anybody can tell me whats up with all these sohai dreams? People say dreams are a reflection of what you want. But I can assure you, I have no intentions of working serving food in a hostel, I am not dying to meet one of my random uncles, and in real life, I would have fucked that hot brunette girl instead of asking her to fuck off.
Tonight, I will dream of owning a lava lamp.
**I have been told that I am not being my usual funny self as of late.
**I am inclined to blame hormones and that time of the month.
**Oh, sorry, I just remembered that excuse is not valid for people who own a penis.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Sometimes, in a foreign land, people experience a clash in culture. They see something new, and in an attempt to embrace every single drop of that new experience, they do things that look odd.
It snowed last night. First snowfall of this winter. Quite heavy too. So, what do we do?
Simple answer. Go out. Make snowballs and throw them at your friends. Make snowmen and take loads of stupid pictures. Fully grown people can actually change into kids when faced with snow. Then, the whitemen around look at us like as if we are some kinda dumbfucks. Strange foreigners, I hear them say.
When I saw my first hailstorm, I happened to be in my room. Pieces of ice the size of pebbles fell from the sky and made a strange sound on the roof. Everybody who was outdoors ran under a shed for cover. Its painful, you know. But me, I grabbed my coat and ran out of my room to feel what it would be like to get hit by a hailstorm.
Out of all this, I have two random questions :
a) Why is a snowman made out of 3 balls when a man looks nothing like that?
b) In England, they do not have rainstorms as heavy as we have back in Malaysia. I certainly have not seen lightning a single time I have been here. So, why don't they go out dancing in the rainstorm the same way we go out dancing in the snow?
Thursday, November 18, 2004
So, in school, that old fart Moral Studies teacher of yours told you, 'Its good to help people.' A friend in need in a friend in deed. Or so it seems. But how far should we go to help people?
Some people couldn't be arsed to help others if there is nothing in it for them. Others feel that helping people is only worth it if it doesn't inconvinience themselves. Where else, some heroes like to help people no matter what troubles they might bring upon themselves. There is also a theological reasoning for this : I've heard a saying 'God only helps those that helps themselves'.
One fine day a long long time ago, when the Earth had not orbitted around the sun that many times, I met a member of God Fan Club, who knocked on my door and shoved a Holy Book in my hand and asked me to embrace his God.
Nothing has changed since that day, I am still a scum who drinks, gambles and worships bank notes. The only change is now, I religiously follow that above saying - that is I only help people who help themselves.
People always say, hey, if a friend is in trouble, you should be a friend and help him. Thats what friends are for. One time is fine, people sometimes have an error in judgement which lead them to trouble and which is why they need help. But past the second time, they can very well suck my balls before I lend a hand.
What kind of a fucked up friend are you, Vincent? Well, I am a fucker who screens his friends properly. Somebody who repeatedly asks me for help over and over and over again, when they shouldn't isn't called a friend. He's called a leech. I don't need friends like that.
Unfortunately, human nature forces most of us to be nice, so that other people will like us. So that we can win popularity contests. Diplomacy works sometimes. It is necessary, I do not deny it. But sometimes, we all need to pick up our balls and tell people to FUCK OFF AND DIE.
My reasoning is, I help myself. When I trouble, I try to dig myself out of the shit that I got myself into in the first place. Sure, its damn easy to pick up the phone and call someone to bail you out. But nobody but myself got me into shit, so its my price to pay. Unless I can't help it, I wouldn't ask anybody for help in the first place.
And I figured, if I am like that, so can everybody else. But thats not the case. There are leeches. Which unfortunately, there are loads of people around willing to help those leeches. I'll give it to them. They are kind hearted, but why the point in helping assholes who do not deserve help?
This world would be a much nicer place if it were solely governed by my rules.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
One fine day, somebody somewhere wrote this program and called it Ares. Few years (or months) later, Vincent used it and became very happy. Ares, Kazaa, Napster - same thing. You can share files with other people using that program.
Labels: awesome theories
Anything you are looking for -- you can find it. Movies, MP3s, TV shows, porn, pictures of nakes people, pictures of idiots on holiday. Basically anything you can think off. What makes it even sweeter for use is that it allows me to share files with people on the uni network, and being a damn T1 line, I can basically download a file of somebody on the network at around 500kbps. For people who share their C drive on the network, I can even access their files and copy it straight off them.
Ok, that boring story above has nothing to do with the shocking realisation that I discovered just now. Its more of an excuse, or a justification, if you may. You see, I stumbled upon this person's comp, which had a large collection of Disney movies. I figured, I haven't watched Disney movies in a fucking long time, so why not download a few and watch? There was Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast and Little Mermaid.
I just watched Little Mermaid. Now, that show holds a special place in me. Why? Not because of a mermaid in a bikini. Its because that show made me realise that I was a fucking genius. Long ago, in my juvenille years, when I was still a dumb little boy chasing chicks with stupid daydreams, I made a startling discovery. Little Mermaid was the favourite show for 95% of girls of my generation when they were little kids. The song Ariel sings when she was wishing for her price was called 'Part of Your World'. Out of that 95%, all of them would have it as their favourite song. Why
is was such data important?
Say, you want to dedicate a song to a chick on the radio. Or say, you want to give a chick a CD with her favourite songs on it. Don't know what song she likes? Or say, you wanted to rent a movie but didn't know what kind she likes. Not a fucking problem. Little Mermaid, Part of Your World and you won't go wrong.
Why? Cause it rekindles old memories, brings her back to her kiddy world, and makes her realise that she was sooo fucking stupid to think it possible that a prince would marry a girl he found on the beach 3 days after meeting her. Also makes her realise that its fucking stupid to think that true love is found with a single kiss and that everybody can go home after that and live happily ever after. Ok, maybe not the last two. They were true, and she will probably realise it already, but thats not something you want to bring up.
Now, again, that was not the shocking realisation I spoke off. Cause I already knew all that.
What I just realised is Disney movies are a fucking direct rip-off from Bollywood.
How, you ask? Everybody makes fun of the fact that in Bollywood movies, the characters suddenly start singing and dancing around tree, rolling down hills, and suddenly 20 random people join the happy couple and start dancing in unison. But everybody fucking forgot that Disney movies are exactly the same fucking thing!! And nobody takes the piss out of Disney movies! WHY THE FUCK NOT??
Let's see. In Little Mermaid, they start singing, and suddenly 100 other fishes come out and dance around the corals (corals, trees, same thing). In Lion King, both the lovers roll down the fucking hill. Oh, random animals join in the dance too. In Aladdin, random people in the market place sing and dance along with the dude. In Snow White - yes Snow White, that ancient 1930s movie, fucking birds and squirells sing and dance with her. What the fuck is this conspiracy all about?
Why does everybody victimise poor Bollywood when fucking Disney is doing the same thing? I have become very disgusted with the world. I am shocked beyond all imagination possible. I am disturbed at my genius for being the first person to my knowledge for realising that. Don't.......disturb me. Go away.
Labels: awesome theories
Monday, November 15, 2004
Sometimes, we say things for fun, or for a laugh. It all seems like a joke, but when you go home, and sit down to analyse it, it all seems so true. Here are two recent examples:
For my project, I have a supervisor and a design consultant. Supervisor makes sure that wedo our work and that the project is running smoothly. Design consultant is a guy who the school hired to help all project students with their projects.
My design consultant is an old man, a professor in his 60's. He looks (and dresses) like a typical old British man. He even wears those pieces of elastic that goes over his shirt to keep his pants up. I believe they are called suspenders? My group mates call him Father Jack. Although I seem to keep calling him Farmer John. Don't really know why. Anyway, we had our first meeting with him just the other day.
Farmer John : So, tell me, what is your main objective of this project?
DinoDude : Erm, to build a machine that cracks palm nuts.
Farmer John : RUBBISH. AquaGirl, tell me what your main objective of this project is?
AquaGirl : Errr, to export technology to be used in Ghana, and thus helping th......
Farmer John : ABSOLUTELY RUBBISH! SnoopyGirl, you tell me what your objective is.
SnoopyGirl : To understand the importance of appropriate technology and to harness our skills in design as well as........
Farmer John : Nonsense.
Vincent : *about to speak*
Farmer John : Correct me if I am wrong, but your main objective for this project is to get a damn bloody high mark so that you all can graduate with a first class honours.
DinoDude, AquaGirl, SnoopyGirl and Vincent nod in agreement.
In the dining room in the hostel just now, I was sitting with a NigerianGuy(NG) and a TaiwaneseGuy (TG). Both of them are classmates, and my juniors. Some girls walk past :
NG : Yauza!!
Vincent : Are you fucking me? That's a feast for you?
TG : *eat eat eat*
NG : Hey TG, you like what you see?
TG : See what?
NG : You interested in any of them? Or any girl here?
TG : What for??
Vincent & NG : Hahahahahaha....what for?....hahahaha...
Vincent & NG : what for?........hmmmm.....good question...what for?
Friday, November 12, 2004
camping in bus station, part 2
Ok, I don't really know how to write this, so I am going to go through each of those people one by one, and tell you how they irritated me on that night.
The German couple : Well, they didn't do much besides sleep. And talk loudly in German. The guy had a small moustach like Hitler. They were sleeping on the row of chairs behind me and kicked my chair a few times in their sleep. Should have poured some warm water down their pants.
Man with briefcase : I don't know what his problem is. He slept in the same position all night long. Didn't move a single bit. Not once. I thought for a moment that he died in his sleep. But then I learned that when people die, the crap in their pants. But I didn't smell anything, so I reassured myself that he was not dead. He didn't do much to piss me off except in the morning when he woke up.
He went to the toilet same time as myself and started shaving. In a fucking public toilet. I don't care what people do, but the other sink was spoilt, leaving one sink left. The cunt filled it up with water and took his own sweet time to shave. I had to wait 3 minutes for him to finish before I could wash my hands. Should have used his razor blades to circumsize him and shove the foreskin down his throat.
Nigerian guy : The most irritating fucker in the waiting lounge. For the simple fact that he was talking on the phone throughout the night with his girlfriend. Not that I have anything with people talking on the phone. But the problem is, these African people (and I know a few) they can't talk softly. This particular fucker decided that his girlfriend was as deaf as a snake. For 2 hours, he was basically talking loudly and advertising stuffs that I didn't need to know.
Stuffs like "Oh baby I miss you so much. I can't eat. I can't sleep just thinking about you." What a smooth talking bitchfaced snake. After 2 hours, the radiation from the phone had fried his already retarded brains, he finally put down the phone. No battery I reckon. Then he walked over the the public phone and called back his deaf girlfriend. And proceeded to boil phone porridge (poh tim wah chuk) for a subsequent 4 fucking hours. Holy shit man. He ended the phone call by making kissing sounds in the mouthpiece. Should have yanked out the receiver and continously banged it on his thick rhino hide skull.
Student + Hippie : The young guy, probably a student went over to the vending machine to get himself a cup of coffee. The hippie was already standing by the vending machines. Hippie felt lonely and needed a chat. The bastard was the second loudest guy in the room behind the Nigerian guy. He was trying to educate the student with fucken (he used that word a lot, and didn't seem to know how to pronounce it properly) conspiracy theories.
Theories like how Bush won the elections. Like how Bush got Blair to join the war. Like how the government takes homeless people on a ride. Basically a lot of bullshit. Scary thing is, he actually believed everything he said. Like as if the whole British government was trying to screw HIM over.
Hey you fuckhole. You are a hippie. The fucken government don't give a fucken rats ass about you. You scum hippie. He got scolded by the black security guard for sitting on the coffee table. And later proceeded to bitch to the student guy about how he thinks that the black guy only got his job because the government needed to keep black people off the streets.
Tramp bitch : Came in about 3am. Looked like she was going home after clubbing. Was half drunk and smoking some cheap trash rolled up cigarette. Then whipped out her handphone to call a friend. Topic of conversation was about her son. "I am relly worried about 'im. Too many girls. Too many girlfriends. He can do be'ter that dat. An his smoking too. I luv 'im loads, but he's breaking me heart."
Yes, yes, complain about how you are a good mother you are, bitch. Fucking go home at 4am, smelling of puke and cheap fag. What a fucking brilliant example you set to your son. Wake up and smell the cigars.
Homeless dude : Did nothing.Came in about 1am. Had a typical homeless person look. Dressed like that too. Slept the whole night through until 8am. Thats when the manager of the bus station came to work, banged on the chair next to him, and poked him until he got up. And then kicked him out of the place. Quite hilarious as he stumbled out of the waiting lounge, and walked to the side of the road, and lay there to continue with his nap.
Vincent's take on all this : Its not really a good idea to miss the last train out on purpose, regardless of whether you have a book with you. Scary stuffs out there.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
camping in bus station, part 1
Went for a Corrs concert last Friday. Everybody asks me, How was it?
Well, it is how a concert supposed to be.
1) Great singers. Bloody hell, do they get any hotter than Andrea?
2) Great atmosphere. A whole bunch of people standing up for the whole concert is cool.
3) Groupies galore.
But theres nothing interesting to tell about the concert except that Andrea is actually damn fucking chune. Oh, but I already mentioned that.
What was more interesting is the concert was in Birmingham, some 1 and a half hours bus ride from Nottingham. Now, I did anticipate that the concert would end late, how late I didn't know. The last train out of Birmingham to Nottingham was at 11.20pm.
Of course, I could have left early to catch the train. But why the fuck pay all that money for a concert if you are going to leave early? Turns out that it did finish around 10.45pm leaving me a shit load of time to get to the train station. But I figured out that there was bound to be an encore performance, which they did. They came out for another two songs, and by then, the last train had long left the platform.
Anyhows, I had already anticipated that, and had already picked up a spot to spend the night.
The bus station.
Unlike the train station, the inter-county buses run throughout the night, although the next bus to Nottingham was at 8am the next morning. Still, the waiting lounge was a pretty comfortable place, open 24 hours with vending machines and even a few Internet points. It had rows and rows of chairs, albeit hard plastic ones. Even had a kebab shop open across the street.
Although a relatively safe place with a security guard there as well, I had no fucking intention of sleeping in a place where around 10 other people were sleeping. I spent the whole night awake reading a book. Sitting in the rows around me (everybody had their own row) , to my best memory :
1) A young German couple who looked like they hadn't showered in years
2) A well dresed man with a briefcase who was sleeping throughout the whole night.
3) An African guy (probably Nigerian--can tell from the accent) who was on the phone the whole night long.
4) A young guy, probably a student.
5) A hippie who looked like a homeless man who had a funny sounding accent that my best bet was that he came from Mars.
6) A ragged looking woman came in about 4am, probably after work in a late night restaurant. I know appearances can be deceiving, but she looked like a tramp. That would be later confirmed.
7) A homeless bum who was obviously not waiting to board a coach, but chose to sleep in the waiting lounge.
*To be continued.....
*Sorry for the infrequent postings. Uni network HATES blogger. It seems to be the only site I have problems accessing from my room. Guess I will have to start blogging from the computer labs now*
Monday, November 08, 2004
taking the piss
*Once upon a time, when this blog was very young, my friend Nanook happened to be the 2000th visitor, and she demanded that I dedicate one article of my blog to her. One fine day, I told her. That one fine day is today.*
Labels: awesome theories
Nanook has that self given nickname because of a certain cotton toy dog that she has which she calls "Nanook". Why she and many other girls give names to their overgrown mutants of toys, I have no idea.
I mean, I don't give my football boots a name. I don't call the left boot Giggsy and the right boot Scholesy. Even when I was small, I didn't give names to any of my toys. Hell, even my imaginary friend doesn't have a name.
Anyways, a few days ago, Nanook put on her MSN display a picture of Nanook the dog. To be honest, its ugly. I told her many many times. Its horrendous. It looks nothing like a dog. Its big black beady eyes remind me of mata kucing seeds. Mutated mata kucing seeds actually. Thats because they are so big, it actually takes up most of the dog's face.
The following conversation took place :
Vincent : What is it with that ugly dog?
Nanook : WHAT? Don't insult Nanook (the dog)
Vincent : Do you know how many little 9 year old African kids don't have a pillow to sleep on, or a shirt to wear because of all those ridiculous little balls of smilling animals?
Nanook : What???!?!
Vincent : Yeah, don't you know, its a waste of cotton?
Nanook : Shut up.
Vincent : All that precious cotton is used by big multinational corporations who exploit little kids. Kids of drug addicts and street beggars are forced to work from 5 in the morning till 10 at night sewing crap like that. Kids as old as 5 years old. Have you no heart?
Nanook : Bluek. No child labour.
Vincent : How do you know?
Nanook : International corporations don't use child labour.
Vincent : That's where you are wrong. International corporations get rich BECAUSE of that. Like Nike -- all made in China, Indonesia and Vietnam. A lot of poor little kids on the streets there you know.
Nanook : Nanook is not hand sewn. Probably machine sewn.
Vincent : So? They still get the poor little kids to operate the machine. Packaging too. Have you no conscience? Because of things lile stuffed dogs, little children suffer. Tsk tsk.
Nanook : ...............
There are just somedays when my mouth is super itchy. That was one of those days. At least I don't blame hormones for that.
As I recall, I came up with so many insults that day, that my friend K3ng suggested that I should find a chick whose mouth is as sharp as mine, get married and live happily ever after. We could then run our own Internet based company that sells ideas for insults to people.
As loyal readers of my blog, I shall now give away a free insult (one that I conjured up on that magical night).
You spot a fat piece of pork lard wearing a sleeveless top that exposes all her spare tires..Pork chops is also wearing denim shorts leaving the celuloids on her thigh visible..
Go up to her and say :
Hey! You could get a good modelling job....in the circus. You could join the elephant parade.
Why? Cause elephants in the circus are dressed with a cloth too. Only thing is that the cloth doesn't cover its stomach, its celluloid infested legs and its fucking fat ass.
Wa hey! What do you know?!? Same thing!
What do you reckon? Can my Internet company survive?
Labels: awesome theories
Thursday, November 04, 2004
you ass erections
Oh yay. Monkey face won it. Well, this post was supposed to come before the erection, but my net connection didn't agree with me.
Labels: current issues
Although I dunno anything about doll face, a change of comedians would have done fine.
Not that my opinion counts in any case, but I wouldn't want to be voting if I could. Who do you choose? Its like if an angel (and a pretty fucked up one) came up to you one day and said :
"You have a choice. Either I poke you with this needle and you get HIV, or I can put some spores in your food and you wake up tomorrow with cancer."
"Oh? That depends....what kind of cancer?"
Which do you fucking choose??
I told you, democracy is flawed. Big time. In the case of my hometown in PJ, I haven't reached voting age. But come next elections, I would be eligible to choose the moron that would sit in a room with other morons, making decisions that would affect me.
Who do I choose? The incumbant of dinosaur age or the unknown with religious know-hows? Again, faced with a decision akin to the HIV-Cancer choice, I would have to vote for killing myself first.
In other words, skip the option of choosing. That means, I might draw a self portrait on the voting slip, and vote myself. Or draw a picture of a monkey and vote for it. That way, I can make sure that neither moron gets my vote, but I have still performed the patriotic duty of voting.
Or in the case of the You ASS elections, you could always vote Ralph Nader.
Labels: current issues
I have had a shit load of questions about my infrequent postings.
No guys, I have not found another hobby. I've got a shit load of stories to tell, but I can't.
My connection has been crap. Uni network doesn't seem to like blogger...but only at night. Some kinda firewall, so I can't access the page at night. Will figure something out.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
a length of time
More commonly known as 'period', this strange phenomenon is very mysterious to man. Men, actually. Many many enlightened people (like me) have tried without success to figure out this mystery.
Labels: awesome theories
However, before a problem can be solved, we need a problem defination. And this is where the trouble all begins. We can't even define it. How do you even solve a problem when you don't know what its about?
What is this 'period' thing? I don't know really. I reckon its got something to do with the moon and an ancient curse or something. My best guess is that its related to the werewolf legend. Sometime in a month, when there is a full moon, a normal man turns into a beast, complete with fangs and a huge dick. That same werewolf goes around terrorising people for the fun of it. Maybe rape a few she-wolves (I believe they are called vixens) in the process.
But even that is not accurate enough. You see, we all know when a werewolf transforms. On a full moon. You see a full moon, you see a werewolf, you get the fuck out of where ever it is you are. The problem with this 'period' thingy is you have got totally no fucking idea when its coming. You have no idea when a carrier of this disease is going to open its mouth and spit its digestive acids all over you.
Another problem with this mysterious 'period' thingy is that the carrier can be very nice, laughing and joking, just moments before exploding into a burning fireball of hate and deceipt. You see, with the werewolf, its not so dangerous. Even if you didn't already know about the werewolf, as soon as you see the evil that it causes, you run the fuck away from that thing. But with this 'period' thingy, its like Hansel and Gretel and the hut made out of sugar and candy. The witch tempts the innocent little kids (Hansel especially) with candy, then suddenly, the bitch springs out of nowhere and wants to eat it. How can? Thats totally unfair.
You know what else is unfair? Carriers of this disease find it perfectly alright to use this as an excuse for everything. Its like people who have a running nose. They keep sneezing in the cinema and they blame it on the flu. Or like those people who are born stupid, they blame their genes. Grumble grumble, moan, hiss, act weird, blame it on some time frame thingy. And I don't even know what this 'period/time/zaman' is.
So you see, I really don't know as many things as I thought I knew. I just identified another weakness in me. I will learn to perfect that weakness. Pretty soon, not only will I know everything there is to know about this 'period' thingy, I will also learn a solution that we could all use to counter it. Stay tuned.
Labels: awesome theories
Monday, November 01, 2004
cock and bull story
When I was in school, I remember a Science teacher I had in Form 2. The Don, we called him.
We loved The Don. He was a great teacher, funny and had a hairstyle that I had never seen before. At first glance, it looks like he is wearing a toupee. It looks like a layer of carpet that was horribly placed on top of his head. Closer inspection revealed that he had grown the hair at the back of his head very very long, and pulled it over the top and the front to cover the bald patch. The hair was held in place by loads of gel and hairpins.
Anyways, there was something about The Don I hated. The fucker loved to tell some fucked up stories. I hateed it because it insulted my intelligence. There more some of my classmates gasped in awe at his incredulous stories, the more he was spurred on to tell more ludicrous ones.
I soon grew to learn why he told those stories. It was the only way he could get the attention of my dim-wited classmates. For the smarter ones like me, his stories were a way of making us open our eyes and think. Every story seemed possible. It was up to us to figure out the discrepencies (if any) and think which stories were bullshit and which stories weren't. And they were. Every single one of them.
The Don was a "cool" teacher. There are a lot of cool teachers around. Unless you are an old dude who used to study in a missionary school run by mean ass priests, you would surely have met a cool teacher. He would be a dude who didn't condone swearing, but turn a deaf ear if he heard it. Students loved to talk to him. Sometimes about their personal lives, rendering the old gay school counsellor redundant. Love advice from The Don was well treasured by the students.
The Don was highly professional. His classes were about learning. His stories during class, no matter how big a lie he was telling, was always related to the work at hand. One day, and the circumstances surrounding it, I forgot, but one day, he did something different. He stopped teaching halfway and started telling us a story. I was prepared for the bullshit that would come, but it turned out, he was giving some dudes a real good advice.
Mind you, he was talking to a bunch of horny hormone induced 14 year olds. He was saying that there was a big difference between the girls and the guys, and why relationships at that age would always fail. His sermon, at best memory :
"You guys are damn horny. You see a girl, and all you see is her pretty face and whether she will be your girlfriend. What is a girlfriend? You do not know. All you know is you want a girl whose hand you can hold and then show your friends and let them get jealous of you.
On the other hand, the girls are much more matured. They know what they want in life. While you guys are thinking of where to bring your 'girlfriend' next week, the girls are thinking about what kinda man they want to marry and what they want to do in life. "
The impact at that time was great. True. All my guy friends were assholes. What is a girlfriend? What the fuck is this 'girl-friend' thing all about? All they wanted was a girl to take the Sunway Pyramid and walk around holding her hand, to the awe of his friends. And the girls? I never knew many girls back then. Those I knew then were "matured" people. Girls who would say NO to a relationship in school and make her parents proud.
For a long time, I held in high regard of The Don's analysis. So fucking true, I thought. After a while, I had forgotten all about The Don and his sermon. For a long time, it held popular believe in my head that that was the only true thing that The Don had told us, apart from the Science textbooks of course. No bullshit stories about his father working in the Death Railway and escaped using a metal rod to break his chains open. This was the truth, I thought.
Down the years in secondary school, I matured much faster than everybody else. My thinking was my older. No more wasting time holding hands with some random chick. What was the point? A travelling circus exhibit which people looked at and awed? It would be great to think about the future, what I wanted to study in uni. What I wanted to be. At what age would I earn my first million? Stuffs like that that not many kids these days thought about.
Last Thursday, as I was sitting alone all day in a lab doing an experiment for my project, I sat and thought about a lot of stuffs. Like what was for dinner. Like what the fuck was I doing sitting there watching palm nuts dry in an oven. And suddenly, a mental image of The Don popped into my mind. WIth it, the numeroud bullshit stories that he told us and was believed by all except me.
As I was getting nostalgic and all that, the oven timer rang signalling time to take my next reading of data for the experiment. It reminded me of the stark contrast of now and then. I have a shit load of female friends now, and a truckload of such acquaintances. Loads of good experimental controls. Just the night before, I was busy advising one of them to tell her boyfriend to stick his dick up his ass.
Oh Vincent, Vincent. What should I do? What should I do?
Well, you could start by growing your own brains first.
A smile of irony escaped my lips as I realised something. The one story which I revered in the past stood out among all of The Don's bullshit. The one story that I once held true. It was now officially the single biggest piece of bullshit that had ever come out of his mouth.