Saturday, December 31, 2005

life's tuition

Oh yay. It's a whole new year. While most people spend time this time of the year making resolutions for the upcoming year, I never do. Not personal resolutions anyway. That's because I haven't gotten down to fulfilling my 1989 resolution. And I only had one resolution back then.

I only had one resolution since I was young - I wanted to make more money than Uncle Lim. Once I had his amount of money, then every other resolution that I have would fall into place. Of course back then, there wasn't any Astro around so Ananda Krishnan didn't exist. And who cares about that Robert Kuok dude? Owning a casino is so much cooler than selling sugar. But these days, I won't be that fussy - so as long as one day I get to fulfil my age old resolution of building the Vincent Tower that would dwarf Dayabumi (which was in those days Malaysia's tallest building).

So anyway, until that particular resolution is complete, I had decided to spend my time during this time of the year to look back and reflect back on things I have done, and more importantly, the things I have learnt over the past year. I made a lot of mistakes this year, and mostly during the last couple of months (my good friends would know).

I reckon these are the 3 most important lessons I learnt this year:

3) This wasn't too much of a lesson on what to do. Sure, I'll be wiser next time around, but this served more as an eye opener. The real world is evil. It is a cliche, I know. Everybody says it but the concept of just how evil it was never dawned upon me.

I started off trying to be a nice guy for a change. As I looked at the path that lay in front of me, I felt a certain pang of guilt of the path I was going to take. But boy, did I have my ass scorched with a red hot poker. It's a dog eat dog world out there. Everyone fucks everyone up the ass. Just make sure you aren't on the receiving end.

2) I actually learnt this long ago, but I had to remind myself about this many times this year. I like this particular quote from The Godfather III: "Money and friendship - oil and water." I've come to learn that for certain people, it is not worth haggling over money. Never mind if you owe me 50 bucks and refuse to pay up. If it costs me 50 bucks to learn that you are an stingy blood sucking cuntface, then I consider it money well spent. If you are generous with me, I can be the same.

1) This is probably the most important lesson I actually learnt all year. And since this is kinda a private thing, you're probably not going to understand it. But heck, this is my blog and you probably didn't understand half of the other things I said. Oh you think you do, but you don't. No sir, you have no idea.

So Vincent, I know that you don't like opening your mouth for certain things. I know you prefer a peaceful and quiet negotiation where everybody is satisfied and lives happily ever after. But sometimes, you fucking idiot, you have to fight for something you really want. Grit your teeth and break your bones even just for a bit. Just for once, it would be great to show people what you are fighting for, you know?

I am not going to wish you an awesome year ahead, because everybody knows that's not going to happen. Inevitabliy, there will be setbacks, dissapointments and heartbreaks. I do, however wish you the strength to overcome all that shit, the tenacity to piss in the wind and the guts to stare down the barrel of a gun.

And above all, to enjoy the new year.


Tuesday, December 27, 2005


Goddamn she's beautiful..

Uh-huh. She doesn't smile enough though.

Who cares? Look at her! If she looks like that frowning...imagine what she would look like smiling..

Truth be told, she wasn't that hot. She had a sweet little face and bambi-eyes. Long hair. Fair skinned. Otherwise, she was ol' Plain Jane. But Plain Janes have an appeal too, you know. It's the girl-next-door factor. There she stood, with her long sleeve shirt and knee length skirt. Probably came straight from the office. And she had a nice little watch to fit around her cute little wrist. This usually spelt 'Ahlian' with a capital A, but no, not her.

And so it was, like every other pick-up, it all began with a simple...

"Hi...I'm Tom"
"Oh hi", she smiles back, "I'm Anna"


Didn't sound like an Ahlian. Not one bit. Didn't even have that Chinese accent. And like any other guy struck by a thunderbolt, he pressed on. And boy, did they get along. He was right. She looked like an angel when she smiled. And wait till you see her laugh as she cracked those insane one-liner jokes. Apparently, she was an accountant with a large firm. Graduated top of her class, too. Dammit. Beautiful AND smart.

"Well done Tom," he thought, "Score....."

"Bartender!" he called, "Two Chivas Cokes please!"

"Eh......no Tom. I don't drink."
"Why not?"
"Haha...I'm modern la, but I still stick to the rules, ok"
"Hmm? What rules?"
"Haha...The rule that says Muslims can't drink la, you doink!"

He looks at her and blinks. The bar begun to spin in front of his eyes. He holds his tongue for a while and tries to recall their conversation. It was......confusing.

"You're Malay? Anna's not a Malay name what"

She giggles like she had been all night. Somehow, it didn't sound as cute as it was. Suddenly, her smile wasn't as sweet as it was. Suddenly, he broke off all connections he had with her.

"Of course it is, silly. It's short for Farh-ana."
"Haha...yeah I hate my name so I get everybody to call me Anna"

He manages to force a laugh. His lips curve to form a smile. A weak smile. A fake smile.

"So you're actually a Malay? But but...you're so....fair!"
"Hehe...you have been talking to me for two hours and you just figured it out?"
"Well......you didn't sound Malay"
"Hahaha....but I am!"

Water droplets roll down his cold glass. He watches it form a water ring at the bottom.

He sighs.

"Only if..." he thinks, "....only if"


Sunday, December 25, 2005

drive safe, folks

I have always held the notion that safe driving campaigns never quite make the cut. Every year during the festive periods, the road accident fatalities shoot to a scary figure. Despite repeated warnings and sometimes greusome advertisements, people just don't get it.

Sometime ago, I had this great idea that one of the pre-requisites for a driving license would be to get people to go for a compulsory tour of the accident ward of a hospital so that they can learn first hand that no matter how soft the Milo-tin Protons are, the human tissue is even softer. After that, they should go on a site visit to a police station to see up close what a mangled piece of metal looks like. It might not work, but it would surely scare a few souls.

Myself included.

Today my mum went to the PJ police station to pay a speeding ticket (see kids, no bribes!). Opposite the police station is a big parking space where all the cars involved in accidents are towed and kept. While waiting for my mum to go settle the bill (which didn't happen because they are closed on Saturdays) I got out of the car and took a little stroll around the area.

There was a car which appeared in the papers a few days ago. It was smashed it so bad, I got goosebumps looking at it. I went closer. The car had no front. And if that was bad, the side of the car was crumpled like an acordian. All that was left was a mangled heap of metal. Somehow I could picture the driver and the front seat passenger. There were red stains on the seat. On both seats. The airbags were all fully deployed. I don't think they helped. I don't think anything could have protected them.

As I drove home, I passed many Christmas decorations by the roadside. "Merry Christmas!" they happily proclaimed. "Selamat Hari Natal!" And then I thought of those two poor folks. They won't be celebrating Christmas I reckon.

And sadly, I don't think their families would be celebrating Christmas either.


Monday, December 19, 2005

my gift, my curse

And so it happened that I was reading a funny man's blog the other day and there was this article that was apparently so funny that people were heaping praises all around. One bloke went on to comment that he laughed so hard that 'his insides hurt'. I don't presume to know how other people's laughing mechanism works, but my insides only hurt when I eat a particularly bad seafood dish of some sort (in that case, it's not just the insides that hurt).

So there I was, scratching my head and re-reading the thing....very funny meh? No sense of humour? Could be. But you read my blog. You tell me. Do I look, or even sound like a guy with no sense of humour? Sick and twisted as it may be (think of the tampons, folks), there isn't a soul in the world who can say that I have talked to them but haven't been able to make the laugh. Oh, unless your name is Katherine Lee, in which case you would be burning in hell getting your anus ripped apart by KingKong's 5 foot long dick, and laughing at my jokes would be the least of your concerns.

Us funnymen have sad lives you know. When you reach a certain level of funniness, suddenly things don't seem so funny anymore. I believe its the same case in point with regards to my genius...I hardly ever meet other geniuses around, but that's a story for another day. It's real bad I tell you. Sometimes I crack a lame joke, and some bloke (or chick) will start getting all crazy and laugh like a hyena on crack. And I think.....'Heh, thanks for laughing...but it's not all that funny you know.'

So, if I can't even laugh at my own (lame) jokes, what more other people's? Like the Spiderman dude rightly puts it..My gift, my curse. How about I go even further to say that I haven't EVER, in my 21 years, met a girl who can make me laugh 'till my insides hurt'? Ok, that's probably a tad unfair. But maybe one. That's it. D'ya know how unfulfilling it is to be the only one who tells the jokes and comes up with the fun stuffs all the time?

You think yourself a comedian, huh? Recycled jokes are funny. They are however, not natural. Entertaining people is a gift, you say? No, my friend. Entertaining people is an after effect. You entertain yourself first. You're lying to yourself. You're lying to everybody. Nobody can be that naturally funny and that happy at the same time. It's a gift, but with it comes with a terrible curse.

Tell you what...you go on ahead with your apparent funniness. I'll just dwell on my curse then.


Saturday, December 17, 2005

mental maths

Sorry la you dumbass, but spending RM3,500 for something that is going to die in 3 days is not romantic. It's just stupid. Take the money and buy her gold la you idiot. Just think of all the things you could do with that amount of money......

If I smoke 10 cigarettes a day, I could use a 100 ringgit note to light my fag, and still spend less money than him after that 3 days.

If I shit 2 times a day, I could use three 100 ringgit notes to wipe my ass each time, and still spend less money than him after 5 days.

If I wank (BIG IF THERE, OK?) once a day, I could use a 100 ringgit note to wipe away the stuffs each time, and still have more money than him after a month.

If I were a woman, I could use a 100 ringgit note as a tampon, an assuming a change of 3 tampons a day for 5 days, and still spend less money than him after 2 months.

I think you get my point already............

I have been busy, and been spending most of my time on the other blog, Petaling Street Hooligans, which is probably the best damn football blog out there. I promise an update on Monday night......


Tuesday, December 13, 2005

be thankful

A quick note here, since I am perpetually busy these days. It's a cool juggle between work, and working on the great idea thing of mine.

You know, I said this before, we apparently live in a 'racist' country, where everybody supposedly gets discriminated by their race. The Malays supposedly can't get a job because employers say Malays are lazy and hence they bin every CV submitted by a Malay. The Chinese supposedly lose their university places to the Malays. And supposedly, nobody likes them Indians at all.

But you know.....at least I can walk around the streets here without anybody shouting out calling me a Chink or asking me to go back to China. At least I can have a meal in McDonalds without a woman calling me a 'fucking chink'. At least I can take a stroll in my neighbourhood without a Malay guy mockingly asking me 'Ni Hao?' At least I don't need to fear that I might walk into the wrong neighbourhood and get assaulted because of my skin colour.

And hey look at today's papers. We complain about the supposed police government and the ISA for blocking our 'freedom of speech'. We are being oppressed you say?

But at least, we haven't had a major racial riot since that day in 1969. Too bad you can't say the same for the UK, France and now, Australia. All supposed developed nations.

If you ask me, I choose dirty toilets, bad public transportation, and corrupt cops over CIVIL UNREST and RACIAL RIOTS anyday of the week.


Saturday, December 10, 2005

win some, lose some

I was in the LRT the other day coming home from a job interview. There I was, dressed in a nice pair of pants and a spanking white shirt, complete with a blood red tie and everything. Hell, it was one of those rare days that my hair looked ok (because my hair ALWAYS looks like I just woke up).

Now, there's this thing about dressing well. Every woman (even the hideous ones) look stunning on her wedding day, maybe because of the radiance she emits for the occasion, but most probably because of well applied make up and the camoflouge of a wedding gown which always looks beautiful. I think the same concept applies to guys with a well done tie and a nice long sleeve shirt. That, and because I had an aura of invincibility around me (because I was nothing short of AWESOME in the two interviews I had that day), I swear the birds were circling over my head all day long wondering how such a magnificent creature like myself happened to grace this earth.

Anyways, in the jam packed peak time LRT, everybody was standing so closely, the flower fragrance from this Indian girl behind me was trying so hard to counter the kretek stink from the Malay bloke next to me . Also, no more than 4 feet away from me were a couple of girls. A tall chick and a short cross-eyed friend of hers.

The tall chick seemed to be staring at me from the moment I stepped into the LRT and kept glancing my way while talking to the cross-eyed one. I'll be honest...she could have been checking out Mr. Kretek, although I sincerely doubt it. And then, she whispered something to the squint while still trying to take a mental picture of me. I can hardly call it a whisper because I heard it loud and clear from where I was...

"Eh..cute la the guy..."

Crossy turned to face the same direction she was facing (I couldn't tell whether she was looking at me, for obvious reasons) and gasped with the most condescending tone..


Tall chick, obviously bemused that her friend did not support her assessment of me tried to start berating Crossy until the two of them realised that they were a little loud and that I was looking at them smugly, so they toned down and proceeded with their little debate over me. It was nothing short of amusing (partly because Crossy couldn't appreciate beauty through those eyes of hers. HAHA).

Days like these are fun.

You win some, you lose some.

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Wednesday, December 07, 2005


A friend asked me earlier how come I haven't been updating as much. There are phases a blogger goes through I think. The 'post a lot of crap phase' is one very common one where people update for the sake of it. Then there's the 'traffic whore' phase, where no explaination is required. I think I am now in the 'I don't give a shit phase'. For the first time since I started blogging, I can honestly say I AM BLOGGING FOR MYSELF. I haven't checked my site counter in days and I post only when I feel like it...

I can't decide whether a bird in the hand is really worth two in the bush. On one hand, these decisions are something everybody wants to have the luxury of making. On the other hand, decisions like that make or break you. I have decided to go ahead with my idea albeit on a smaller scale, but that only serves to complicate things further.

I also have a funny story about a chune chick and an ugly chick on the LRT, but that's a story for another day.......


Saturday, December 03, 2005

so pweety


My mum got a bouquet of flowers the other day! 45 beautiful red roses. They were so pretty I couldn't resist grabbing my camera and took so lot of pictures of them. I wish someone would give me some pretty flowers too :(

So huge rite? The wrapping was so beautiful we decided no to take it out. So we have to spray water on the petals every few hours or so.

Look at those gorgeous blood red petals. We've decided to make potpuri after they wither.

Decided to take so artsy shots too...Hee hee. All those little flowers surrounding it complement the bouquet very well, don't you think?

Now....didn't that just sound so totally fucked up? Helloooo....its just a bunch of goddamn flowers ok. Stop making a fuss about plants. Its a fucking waste of money, thats what it is. That was the biggest fucking bouquet of flowers I have ever seen in my life. I wouldn't even want to begin imagining how much they cost.

Women love flowers. Flowers are evil. Hence, women are evil.