Wednesday, March 31, 2010

re deleted post/ rant #94

So i wrote an allegory here earlier. and decided to delete it. why, you may ask? because it was an affirmation that i was still weak willed about certain issues when i promised myself that I wouldnt be. writing that allegory, while some have said was well written, did not best suit the mood nor the optimum level of mental fortitude I would wish to have at this current time. furthermore, as mentioned earlier, it was a testament to how little I've changed. No, I don't want it published. And there's no point asking me about what it was. If I wanted to tell you it would have been published in the first place anyway

So what now? The midweek review? Bah, nothing is going on. I don't really give a damn about earth hour or how I'm supposedly cutting down my carbon emissions for a whole fucking hour. You want to save the earth? Go fucking live in a communal village in the fucking jungle and dont have any fucking kids. What's the answer to solving the carbon emission problem? Anal sex. Seriously, having kids increases your carbon emissions more than driving a humvee to work everyday. Stop trying to be a douchebag earth warrior and call the rest of us assholes for not doing enough for the planet. Let them who is without douchbagness cast the first fucking earth friendly stone. Hippie assholes. Go ahead and drive your eco friendly Prius and try to break already.

Furthermore, fuck you firefox. Smoother and more secure internet surfing my ass hairs. This is the third time trying to write this rant. What the fuck are you doing with those error reports anyway? Building an effigy of the consumers that you so lovingly fuck over so you can burn them in a symbolic gesture? Printing them out and then making them into paper balls for the office inter-departmental wastepaperbasketball tournament? Giving them to office weirdo Jim so he can jack off on customer complaints? Giving them to Mitchell Baker's kids so they can build paper forts and play Gondor vs Mordor in Conference Room B? I'm probably right on one of those counts so fuck you all the same

The only thing I'm not angry at is Lost. No no, dear Lost, I can never get angry at you. I'll love you, love child of J.J Abrams, no matter how confusing or draggy or nonsensical your storyline gets. I'm also not angry at Tom Hanks. I love you Mr Hanks because you were The Money Pit, Big, Philadelphia, Forrest Gump, Sleepless in Seattle, Joe vs the Volcano, Apollo 13 That thing you Do, Saving Private Ryan, You've got mail, The Green Mile, Castaway, Catch me if you can, The Terminal, Charlie Wilson's war, your honey ambrosia like voice in both Toy Stories, your producer roles in Band of Brothers and the Pacific. Yeah, I know you've made tons more, but I like you best in these movies and off screen roles. No, I hated the Davinci code because I hate Dan Brown. Though surprisingly I thought of you when I read the book out of sheer curiosity of the hype. If I could Ricky Martin it I did have mad man love for you. But since im not Ricky Martin-ing it, I appreciate your works sir.

I'm also somehow not angry at Jim Carey, despite watching the Majestic and The number 23.

Read Kickass and then watch the movie. I command it.

Allegory, or How I tried to write a children's story

Allegory : an expressive style that uses fictional characters and events to describe some subject by suggestive resemblances; an extended metaphor. 2:fable: a short moral story (often with animal characters)

Marcella was a bubbly sparrow. She spent her days flitting about from tree to tree, picking berries and fruits to fill her hungry stomach. Some day's she would prefer berries over the fruits, some times she would prefer the fruits over the berries. It always depended on what she could find that day, or sometimes she followed her taste. Sometimes it was a combination of the two. Oftentimes, some of the berries and fruits that she ate would make her sick, and would lie in her nest with a terrible tummy ache. She would swear off the berry or the fruit that made her sick that day, and would only ever eat one or the other for a length of time. One day, she met James, a sallow and sullen faced vulture with a less than bubbly predisposition. James was not liked for his nature, being that he had an ugly face and and was generally a harbinger of very bad things. His lot in life made him sad, for though he was a vulture, he had a heart of gold and longed to be in the company of other birds.

James met Marcella one day while she was flitting through the woods. At first he was reluctant to approach her due to his visage. Marcella was not afraid of him however and playfully flew circles around him and nipped him in his wings. She sang him songs which made him happy to hear. James had not experienced such feelings of affection before, and spread his wings to fly with Marcella. He would pick only berries for her, seeing as that was her favorite at the time. He picked the best berries, the most sumptuous kind. He did not take any for himself as he did not like berries but gave them all to Marcella as he did not want her to go hungry. And for a time, it was good, both sparrow and vulture flying about in the air, without a care in the world

One day James brought Marcella some blueberries which were her favorite. Or so she had told him. She did not want to eat his blueberries but wanted fruit instead. James could not find the fruit that she wanted and Marcella, seeing that James could not provide, flew to be with another Sparrow who had fruit and sang different songs for that sparrow. James was heartbroken, and he promptly flew alone, in search of the dying, as nature had warranted him to do so.

James had not seen Marcella for a long time. He had not forgotten her however. And he missed her singing. One day, while flying past the spot they met, he saw her again. She had a tummy ache again. She said she had eaten a lot of fruits and that they made her sick. She looked sadly at James and asked if he had any berries with him, for she was hungry for berries again. James had taken pity on her and plucked for her the blueberries that she had rejected earlier. She ate the berries and she was well again. However, James had grown even more sallow and gaunt while they were apart, and he stank of dead meat and carcass. Marcella did not want to be with him and although she was thankful for the berries, she flew off again.

James was by now a full fledged vulture, he disregarded other birds and he only ate the dead. He was shunned by the other birds and he in kind them. He hung around with his other vultures, looking for the dead, or if nature were particularly cruel, the dying and watched and laughed as they fell dead, for he could now eat them.

One day while lazing in the sun, James saw Marcella try to eat a berry. However the berry tasted sour and she spat the berry out. She flew around trying to find another berry to eat but could not find any. Then she spotted James and flew to him. She pecked his wings again playfully and asked if he again had any berries. James, his vulture heart empty but for that tiny spot for Marcella, said he did not but would find for her if she waited. Marcelle hopped and chirped happily for James' berries and promised to wait for him. She sang him the songs that he loved to hear. James flew very far to get Marcella the berries, for though he did not want to admit it, he was still very affectionate for Marcella and wanted to get the best berries for her. He wanted to hear her singing again. When he found the berries James flew back to where Marcella promised to wait for him but she was gone. At that moment, a hunter saw James and shot him out of the sky.

One day Marcella was looking for berries again but could not find any. She did not want fruit as the last one she had had given her a very bad tummy ache. She thought of James, how he had always brought her the yummiest berries. She flew around for hours, looking for James, but she could not find him. She looked around desperately for him, singing songs that he liked, chirping his name again and again. But alas she could not find him. She began to lose hope when she suddenly saw some berries on the grown. She was so hungry and swooped down to get them, but when she did a net dropped on her and she could not fly away. She was kept in darkness for a long time, given only seeds and powdered berries to eat. When she finally saw light again, she was in a cage, with curious human eyes about her. They pushed the caged and shouted at her to sing. She was sad. Her freedom was lost, her berries were lost. Her James was gone. She sang sad songs from then on.

Story is not based on any one person, but a composite of many.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Americana #3

so yeah, don't mind the nerd shrine over on the right. It's something I started a while back as a way to catalog my books and they've only just started offering this put it on your blog feature so we Shelfari users can lord it over you over how many book's we've read. Ok fine, that's not in the memo and certainly not my intention. I just wanted to try it out to see how it looks and cousin, it looks good. Yes, you can help yourself to my books, just make sure you return it. That's what I like about Shelfari, it lets you catalog what you already have, what you're reading and what you plan to read, in addition to comments from you and the community, reviews and discussions, lets you know who you've loaned your book to and when it's due, if at all, what edition, and a nifty virtual shelf. It looks bigger on my Shelfari page. So yeah... shameless plug for Shelfari. You know I like something when I saw it 4 times AND link it. pussypussypussypussy (SFW)

So what happened this week? Nothing much actually. I mean, look at the previous posts. The only highlight was mom's birthday which was celebrated here .Good teppanyaki. I watched Jon Jones beat up Brandon Vera. And..that was the only thing of note this week.

On another note, regarding Americana, I've come to detest Life Unexpected. It's a misleading title. I expect to be engaged in another overly emotional and despair ridden crisis filled episode each and every week. I mean, yes, I know its a drama( it claims some elements of comedy as well, but really, that would be pushing the limits on the term "comedy") and yes, no drama, no fun and hence the redundancy, but shit, there's drama, and there's Life Unexpected drama. If I lived one second of the lives the characters, I did already kill myself. Especially the two main female cast. I'm not being misogynistic here, but damn, the amount of shit they go through... I think the show runners are the ones being misogynistic. And, unlike Lost where, like the characters, if you just persevere, things will eventually become clear, Life Unexpected just wants you to hang yourself. It is that emotionally charged. And Shiri Appleby, my alien lover from Roswell, what the hell happened? I mean, I knew you aged but... wow... If it was the intention of the makeup crew then yes, good job. But if not... I used to watch Roswell for you and for you only! Ok fine, I maybe over exaggerating on the uber emo drama,(not the Roswell part, I watched that motherfucker just for Shiri Appleby/Liz Parker) but it really is rather emotional. It's like my take on 500 days of summer, too real to be good. Im already emoness personified, so why would I want to watch a show thats playing on my character flaw? I don't know, I'm not TV guide columnist. Im just some guy with a blog. Watch it if you want to. The production value wasn't as bad as 500 days of summer, and not as neurotic. But the story..'s mandatory for someone to cry on the show every episode. Or stalk away in anger. Or shout. Or brood. Or look crestfallen. Yeah ok enough. watch it if you want.

Oh.. and I actually watched my tv shows on premier night. As in I didn't have to wait for 2-3 days before it becomes available online for download. Fucking awesometh(Joyce's word, I'm just the endorsing it).

How am I doing emotionally? Kinda like someone on a drug habit who's trying to quit. Trying real hard. But just can't help himself sometimes. Re Jason Mewes. He give me hope though. One day, one day "I don't gotta live like that no more". If you're interested in knowing more about Mr Mewes, click on the links and find out more. If you don't know how to get the rest of the story (or are too lazy to utilize the vast resources that is the internet or the on hand search engine) well, you're missing out on a great inspirational piece. Fine, you can leave me a comment.

I love America but I miss Malaysia. Isn't that fucked up now?

Thursday, March 25, 2010


I've come to notice a lot of my mom in me. We're both paranoid people, I just have mine more under control(I think. Am I? Really?Oh... guess not). We're both sometimes (me more so) emotional to the point of absurdity. We both have really bizarre notions of how things are and should be in life. We're both really passionate people about thing's we believe in, but are just apathetic to the point of cruelty about things we couldn't care less about. We've both loved and lost and been treated cruelly by the unfaithful. We try to be optimistic about things, but we know it's ultimately useless so we're both somewhat indifferent to things lest we get hurt by them, that's why we both love money, because money's indifferent. Well, my mom has a more outward display of it than me anyway. We're both scatterbrains at times, though I think I deal with this better through my order through chaos theory. Last but not least, my mom and I are both well traveled on the road to hell that's paved with good intentions. We do things that hurt people, annoy them, make them angry..... but it was never ever our intention to do so.

Happy 57th Birthday Mom. I love you.

Yes yes I know. We're colour coordinated.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Americana #2.5.2/Lonely Day

Im taking the more personal and literal meaning. FML, is what the cool kids say today. I'll break the mold and say it sans the abbreviation. Forty Missiles Launched. Im jonesing for a fuck. Or failing that, a non dysfunctional relationship with just about anyone.

Happy Birthday Mom.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Americana #2.5

so one of the benefits of listening to the oldies channel is getting to hear the good old stuff from yesteryear with good memories attached. There was one song however that really doesn't bring any memories, but I do remember liking this song very much when I was a kid though I never really understood what it was about. Then I watched Dirty Dancing a few years back (give me a break ok? It was UK and it was cold and it was lonely and it was one of the few shows I could stream... in all its 25 parts) and I sorta got what it meant. Anyway here's Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen

Well, from what I can fathom, the song basically sanctions stalker eyes right? Or that you can basically have eye sex with someone, which may or may not be consensual? I mean, yeah we all do it but it's kinda taboo isnt it? Unless you're getting eye fucked(haha.. not literally...ewww) by the right kind of person where eye fucking might eventually progress to proper fucking, then the sounds of "stalker/pervert/stalker pervert" ring loud in the streets. So yes, good on you Eric Carmen, for saying its ok to undress someone with your eyes and then proceed to fuck them in your mind's eyes where you're now wearing a chinese sam fu and she a cheong sam and you're going at it doggy style on the table and you're shouting "GONG XI FA CAI!". Yeah. I have an overly active, if not horny, mind. What? I've been single for like 6 years ok? People have committed suicide for less (I'm looking at you Angela from Family Guy).

Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

p.s if we had more female sax players like in the video, the saxophone would be a very, very ,very popular musical instrument.

p.p.s RIP Patrick Swayze.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Americana #2

So the sister has left. Again. Yeah, I do miss her. I mean don't get me wrong, I love my mom and all, but it's pretty hard to talk to her about contemporary issues affecting 20 something year olds. On the flipside, at least there's one less overbearing dominant "insistent" female in the house. Sorry chi, but you are.

Last week was uneventful to say the least, other than the fact that I'm now smoking 1-2 cigarettes a day now as compared to 20-25 a day previously. Withdrawal symptoms suck. In relation to this, jogging has become in vogue now and residents at my mom's housing complex can see a slightly overweight acne ridden sweaty chinaman lumbering past them with laboured breaths every late morning. Enjoy your soy milk lattes and granola bars peeps.

In and Out, how I love thee. Let me count the ways, your awesome burger meat that's got that unexplainable "rightness" to it. Your secret sauce that's sinful and well... secret like an affair with the principal's hot milf wife, if that could be a taste. Your buns... so soft yet firm, reminiscent of the other kind of non gluten containing bun. Together with you just there for presentation vegetables and your delectable fries(so much more sexier if done animal style), you are, quite simply, the best burger I ever had and I want to marry you and have little burger baby sliders with you.

The girl replied. I haven't. I don't know what to say. She lives like 5 minutes away from my place and we end up meeting halfway across the world.

I also got my fight shorts. =) the same kind worn by rampage jackson when he knocked out wanderlei silva. =) =) and i got it at a sale. =) =) =)

Tomorrow, off to the Indian Reservation of Pala to pay for the white man's sins against the Native Americans by gambling in their casinos that has been approved by the pale face's government as a way of reparation without direct involvement. That's where us Asians and our predilection to gambling comes in.

I was talking about how a love marriage is overrated and doomed to failure in exceeding rates with my mom and she agreed. Fuck love. Lets all just procreate and stay together for a conventional family unit that may or may not have economical benefits to us and to which we may or may not fall in love with one another. Save your feelings for the dog and various sports teams.

So this bear was chasing this atheist through the forest. In his desperation, he called out for God. God appeared and the atheist pleaded with him to save his life. God replied that it was impossible since he did not believe in Him. The atheist got a bright idea and asked God to turn the bear into a Christian. The bear stopped and proceed to say Grace before eating the atheist. (you heard this before chi. so no need to comment on this)

check next week for ju-rants in Americana #3

Friday, March 12, 2010

Americana #1

Im not blogging because I've had nothing to blog about. Yes, even if I'm in the States. It's cold and the weather is not doing my less than sunny disposition any good. Sure, there are other personal/family factors as well, but I like to keep our dirty linen in the bottom of the laundry basket. I guess that whole yoke leng thing affected me more than i initially thought it did. I'm this close to blocking her on msn.. what with her fucking chicken soup for the soul quotes and random hunky dory song lyrics by teeny boopers. I hate her...And I accidentally liked(as in, clicked on "like" when I intended not to and to "unlike" it would prove that Im just being a stalking asshole..... damn you facebook social protocol) your facebook status. In fact I just think you're full of shit, as usual.

Malaysia can suck slow internet cock and gargle its low bandwith/speed cum. Im getting download speeds of 1000 kbps and higher here. And streaming? What streaming? More like instant ejaculation from sex with too hot to be true prostitute the moment she inserts your penis in her love hole. Not that I have any experience of course, other than visual masturbatory aids. What I'm tying to say is that the internet in the States is fast.

I met a girl . At the airport. While waiting to clear customs. Had the balls to ask for her email, got pseudo business card instead. Will report further developments, if any.

I've been in a funk since I left KL and I don't know why. I think in the end it boils down to the fact that Im just fucking aimless right now. I dont know what I want to do and I scared that I'll never find out. Fuck girls.. I'll just have sex with a prostitute for sexual gratification and get a dog for companionship. I've been meaning to take this opportunity to clear my mind and think about what to do with the future but, things have not gone as expected due to the weather and other related complications as mentioned above playing with my mindset, or rather, I'm allowing it to. Meh, it's only been a week. maybe next week will get better.

I want this and this. Retail therapy only works partially for guys. In n Out burger however, takes the fucking proverbial cake.

Monday, March 08, 2010

CounterStrike Dreams

I had another dream about you last night. It came to me unbidden and left me completely melancholic and rueful the entire day. We were at a mutual friend's place for dinner. Things were civil i suppose. You stuck to your corner of the room, I stuck to mine. Drink were flowing fast and going down heavy. I suppose it was only a matter of time before we had the dreaded confrontation. As inevitable as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. What sparked it off I guess was your effeminate boyfriend trying to tell me that he dislikes smokers and people who drink. A drink thrown in the face and the familiar old left jab, right cross and right uppercut quickly ended any friendly debate that we were naught to have. You came running and pushed me away, making me spill my drink. I called you a hypocritical bitch and I guess that's when you started trying to claw my eyes out. More mutual friends and acquaintances pulled off while I smirked at you and shrugged as if to say "Well, if you can't handle the truth..". You called me an inconsiderate fucker and that your ex boyfriend is more than half the man I am. "That's rich," I quipped, "considering the fact that he laid his hands on you". Cue more eye scratching attempts and screaming. I put my hands up and made to leave, disgusted by your out of the ordinary but more than capable antics. You called out " you don't even know me! You assume that I can just fall in love with you? Who the fuck do you think you are?". I turned around, fist bunched up, rage surging and I shouted back "IM THE FUCKING BEST YOU EVER GOT BUT WILL NEVER HAVE! Don't fucking take the high road and label me otherwise all because i got you a fucking book out of the kindness of my heart!". At that point the book magically appeared in her hands and she flung it back at me. Now it was her turn to smirk and shrug. And suddenly the world caved in on me. The friends disappeared, the music stopped playing, the floorboards and the walls faded away like some much wind swept sand. Only you and me were left, you smirking, me, broken. "You bitch" I whispered, my voice barely audible. Tears came unbidden. "You still smirked and said "Goodbye" and then you disappeared as well, and the world finally closed in around me and enveloped me like a dark sea.

Thats when I woke up with my breath caught in my throat. And so began this less than spectacular day.

I hate the fact that you can still upset me and assault my senses even if we were never anything other than comfortable acquaintances. Long may I forget you...

No, this post wasn't about Michelle.

See you in the States

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Delayed alcohol induced headache

yeah, in other words, I have a fucking hangover. Symptoms include headaches , sensitivity to light and noise, lethargy, dysphoria and thirst. Psychological symptoms also include heightened feelings such as depression and anxiety. And in spite of that, here I am blogging. Addressing last night's less than sober and inarticulate post, yeah, I'm not going to take it down. I might be compelled by societal and peer pressure to be apologetic about my drunken verbosity addled by alcohol to be more bellicose and vitriolic, but yeah, I meant what I said albeit in more crude and unrefined terms and I'm not going to apologize for it. Ok, maybe for the abundant and copious amounts of swearing but hey, I was drunk, and curse words tend to flow easier with less inhibitions. Besides last night's post alcohol consumption rant, I just want to mention, in the most implausible, fantastical, impossible, improbable and unlikely event that the hot malay girl with the black jacket,white with dark floral pattern spaghetti/halter top and very complimentary jeans with a belt buckle that incorporates two chrome circles and was unanimously voted as "Best Club Ass 2010" by our expeditionary club hopping party stumbles upon this blog or is already an avid reader(yeah..sure..), thank you for making it a most enjoyable night. You rank second in fun causation factors next to the Vodka.

Oh yes, Im living it up after a week of unemployment and 2 days before I leave for an American sojourn. I don't know why. Its a bit disturbing that I'm reverting back to my younger days where fun needed to be alcohol fueled. But then again, after countless conversations with my sister and dre about my less than spectacular record of being overly emotional about everything, I've decided not to ponder and worry about things that are ultimately out of my hands, and only consider those that are very much within my grasps. And no, I'm not using "big words" to fucking show off. Unbelievable as it may seems, I actually use these words in daily life and yeah, I do know what it means and im pretty sure im using them in their correct context. Most of them anyway.

On the way home last night, as I was closing my eyes and doing the wave thing with my hand outside the window (Re Mukshin by Yasmin Ahmad) this oldie goldie came on the radio and I engaged in pseudo singing slurring. I dont know why but this song just bring me back to a more carefree, admittedly still bittersweet time in my past. Anyway here's Lullaby by Shawn Mullins

yeah I know. It's just lyrics. The original video can't be embedded. If you do indeed want to see the video, click here

Shawn Mullins made the Sawyer from lost look(and voice) popular way before lost ever aired.

(Another) Drunk Post

no, really, I am slightly inebriated. I typed in the incorrect password 5 times before realizing that I was trying to log in to blogger, not my gmail. It must be noted that whatever I will be writing here is done so with my inhibitions waaaay lowered to the point of nonexistence and may in fact be deleted when I eventually wake up in the morning with a hangover but more or less in a sober state of mind. Want to know something even more amazing? I just typed this whole paragraph with my eyes closed because I'm that drunk and I didn't even make a single spelling error as comapred to my more drunken self. Yeah. Thats what im going to do, Im doing to do this entire blog with my eyes closed and just go by feel. Im not even going to edit the mistakes.

You know what? Counterstrike just needs to fucking get off her pedestal. I mean what? Im not good enough for you? QWhy? Because im fat? Exfuckingcuse me, but have you seen your ex? For fucksake I look like a calvin klien underwear model next to him. If you had taken the fucking effort to get to know me better instead of fucking avoiding me all over a fucking book, you would have realized that Im just the best you fucking got. I would never lay a hand on you, never ever make you do things that yhou never wanted t do. I mean fuck, I was willing to fucking drive for you. If you knew me at all you would know that thats already a fucking effort already on my part? What? Don't act all fucking shocked. Everyone's got their own fucking phobia. I just happed to have the most inconvenient one. Better than fucking being afraid to get into the fucking car because there just ahppens to be a baby lizard scurrying around. Or the dark. Or some other fucking mundane shit. You know what? Fuck you. Pretentious confrontation avoiding ivory tower dwelling hypocritical bitch.

Yeah, this isnt going off to a good start. Heh, if you think im fucking emotional when Im sober, you can already fucking tell genius that im more so when im drunk and typing blind and by feel. Its disturbing actually. Not the blind typong. The fucking fact that all I can feel when im drunk is a lot of nger and disappointment. And the melancholy. Fuhgetaboutit. Its a given. They say you're more uninhibited when you're drunk and yeah, Im just saying whatever coes to mind right now. I dont think its fair that wil get a fucking blackberry. I mean, really? do you really need to be fucking conected all the fucking time. I mean for fuckssake, you're just a student. You want to use the internet, gop fucking use a computer with a modem.nIn my fucking day all the phone could do was call and sms and if you were lucky, a camera. Oh, you're bored in between class? Well tough shit, I dealt with it, my seniors fealt with it and dad cerainly dealt with it withoput the fucking need to be connected to the fucking internet all the time. Just like your fucking bitch of a mom, all about the fucking statues symbol. And its not even your fucking money. You havent even earned a fucking dime in your life. Speaking of that bitch, I finally told my dad that i detest her and he said he knows. That was it, no repercussions, no commitment to change, just fucking, I know. Way to fucking confront and handle the situation. But i guess I cant blame you. Your're stucdk. You make your bed you sleep in it as you used to say.

And to you drunk girls, i mean shit, you read about it in the newspapers everyday. rape. you bitch and moan to your women's minister about how its unfair and how victimized you feel. Ever thought of fucking controlling you liquor? Queer as it may sound, a less alcohol addled brain is scientifically proven to keep you safer. I mean fuck, right in front of me, drunk girl trying to get picked up by a black guy. Greasy as fuck taking advantage. But fuck, turn the tables around for a minute. You know these dangers exists and yet you fucking drink yourself to oblivion all in the name of fun. Yeah lets see how fucking fun it is when you fucking get raped get std get pregnant without even knowing who the father is because he just fucked you while you were passed out and hey, welcome to being just another fucking statistic. Yeah i know, not your fault right? You cant help it if you;re fucking attractive with a fuckload of sex appeal but please for one fucking second, use your presumably more mature mind and think about the fucking consequences. Bad people exists in this world and they certainly dont need anymore encouragement from your drunken self to do all kinds of fucked up shit to you. And you fucking assholes who think its ok to fucking take advantage of some drunk girl. fuck you. its somebody;s fucking sister and/or daughter. How would you fucking like it if someone raped your sister/daguther? Unless you've already committed incest you sick fucking pathetic excuse for a human being. You should be killed and your body rendered to nothing more than dust and ash and all traces of you ever being erased from society. We dont want you and we dont need you you fucking parasite. fuck you. Please lar girls.. just fucking take of yourselves. It's alright to have a drink or two, but dont fucking drink yourself to the passing out stage and let yourself be open like a lamb to those fucking predators. You were so fucking lucky that arvind knew you and was able to get you home safe and sound.

yeah thats it for now. im going to go pass out now and wake up with a hangover. this post may or may not still be here once i wake up and find out all the fucking rubbish i've written. but for those of you who read this before semi inevitable deletion of this post, yeah, i can write by feel . I should know, i opened my eyes to click on the publish post button. And thank you for reading my blog.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Links o' rama

So the last post has, after being described to Tupps by me, been described as nothing more than short term jealousy and curiosity. Well, let's hope so. I'm still feeling some after effects of course, but like I said, I'll forget you and your chocolate comment over time. And whether they speak Spanish in Spain, or that one time where you lied to your other friend to get her to come along with you to meet me because you think I'm Ted Bundy incarnate or something. And let's not forget the book incident. Heh.. yeah, I had all the drama with you and we aren't even a couple, let alone close acquaintances. That's like one level below friend, one level above "Shit, I don't remember your name".

To elaborate further on the leaving to the States, well, yeah, I'm leaving to the States for a month or so to visit my mother. Erm... I don't know how else to elaborate that further. I mean, do you want to know my flight details? what are my in-flight entertainment choices? whether I'll be choosing shitty airline fish over shitty airline chicken? what I intend to do at Taoyuan International Airport while in transit? Whether I will say "I'm here to try and stimulate your failing economy" when the Immigration officer asks what is the purpose of my visit? Whether I will in fact visit Hooters again and stare innocuously at "Christy's" very Hooters while she asks me what I'll have to drink? Whether I will reply that I'm from Malaysia when asked where I'm from by random Americans to which they say, with incredulity written on their faces, "Huh... Could have fooled me. I thought you were Chinese!", at which point I have a secret chuckle and wish I had my Malaysian friends with me so we can derisive jokes at them in Bahasa when out of earshot(despite the fact they wouldn't understand a word we're saying), and speaking our national language louder than usual to play the exotic foreigner card in a highly unlikely attempt to score some local Americana tail? Whether I will be getting Cold Stone Ice cream and In n Out Burger and Mexican food which induces gastronomical orgasms that if I were to draw a pornographical analogy, I would be spurting like Cytherea while having a face and body like Maria Ozawa(Yeah, I didn't get that either when I read it back). Whether I will in fact be utilizing local high speed internet to download copious amounts of pirated movies, comics, songs and etc(I have excluded tv series because, well, I'm right at the source aren't I)? Whether I will have the most awesometh time in the States? Nah... you don't want to know all that.

For someone who said they didn't know how to elaborate further about his upcoming trip to the States that whole rhetorical question routine proved me(and hopefully you) wrong huh?

In response to the jumpers and mercenaries leaving PKR:

Ok I tried to put something funny here but copyright being copyright, I wasn't able to do the whole cut and paste/ embed video deal. So, we can do one of two things

a) watch this video and concentrate on 1:47 to 1:50

b) go here

and now imagine these items are here and that they're addressed to said former PKR assholes.. i mean party members. Fuck you very much for screwing over your constituency who had to waste a perfectly good saturday to wait in line with other equally annoyed voters for close to 2 hours to do something that takes about 2 minutes to get you into office. I could have gotten morning sex but nooooooo.... had to do my "civic duty" and vote you assholes into office (note, I'm reiterating an anecdote told me. I couldn't vote since my registration was "not in the system in time" for said elections)

and yes, I do realize that there are a lot of links in here. Besides reassuring you that they're virus free, it's also just me being me. I like to have themes.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Failure in Indifference

I tried to be indifferent. Really. I did. I mean, the strikeout rule applied when you implied, intentionally or not, that I'm an irresponsible dog owner by feeding my dog chocolates(for the record I did not and to insinuate that I did is fucking insulting). So why then do I feel a slight tug at my heart strings and a minuscule lump in my throat when I hear that you've found a significant other again? I mean, fuck, I can't imagine myself with you except for that one secret fantasy. My rational non emotional side suggests the Forbidden Fruit/The One that Got Away syndrome, and it's mostly right. However, the over highly emotional side of me is raging away in its solitary confinement cage and I can feel it's rattles reverberate through my very core. I've come to hate the word why myself. Mostly because I can't always get the answer and even if I do, I loathe it. I would like to wish you good luck and have a nice life but I know I'm just really insincere when I say that and that I hope you break up really soon because I'm just that petty. And that scares me. Because I made no effort to make you mine(well I did, but I just couldn't stand your idiocy and your inherent hate of me by avoiding me like a plague and never wanting to meet up with me unless it's with a mutual friend because, you know, I'm a serial stalker and I would likely Jeffery Dahmer you(Im being sarcastic, assholes)). It perplexes me because one moment I'm going "Meh" and the next I'm going "Shit". The fact that you can illicit an emotional response from me when I claimed indifference is just so damn disturbing on my part. So am I over you or not? After leaving the keyboard and taking a long drag from a cigarette, the answer is most definitely not. Oh, I'm sure over time I'll come to forget you and we'll only have conversations along the lines of "Hey, long time no see. How are you doing? I'm good. Having sex like a jack rabbit. You?". Out of sight out of mind they say. It's just fucked up that I can act all indifferent with you but then go all "Oh woe is me" when I hear that you have a boyfriend when I myself was like, heh, no way will I ever be with her. Goddamn these conflicted emotions. Emotions just fuck everything up. So yeah, please allow me, for the moment, to be just a tad melancholic. I'll be fine in a week or so, in LA, by the beach, looking at lovers hold hands and display public displays of affection in the sunset while I light my cigarette and space out into a life that could have been but, like that cigarette, will disappear in a puff of smoke and end in oblivion once I stub it out in a public ashtray, because littering is a public offence in the States. All with a fucking wry smile. *cue big sigh and playing the emo playlist on Itunes

what? a guy can't be emotional and conflicted?

The inevitable(female point of view)

you're laughing because you know it's true.

Oh yeah, I won't be in Malaysia come next week. Toodles