anti-climax
the title says it all actually.
one minute, my boss is telling everyone how brilliant his idea specialist is, how creative, how full of ideas and award-winning stuff; the whole works.
on the very next day, he comes up to me and utters two words.
“you’re fired.”
eh?
i smiled at his little joke and went to my office. soon, the secretary comes in all nervous and starts asking me to return back my access card, my office keys and start packing my stuff. then it hits me.
he’s serious.
eh?
picking up the official looking letter left on my desk, i read it.
termination of employment due to dissatisfaction of employer.
the rest of the gang couldn’t believe it either when i told them. they thought i was playing a prank. then when they realized i wasn’t, shades of red begin to enter their faces.
“what the fuck!!”
“tiunyamacifuckingbai”
“pukimak lan ciao dia la… stupid or what!!”
it’s sweet actually, when your colleagues get reaaaaally pissed off on your behalf.
i didn’t really feel pissed off or anything. just packed up my stuff quietly and left. i wasn’t going to waste my time arguing with an idiot. as for my salary, i asked ma’eka to collect it for me. what can i say? it’s the company’s loss i guess.
i’ve just found out that my “forced retirement” could have been caused by office politics.
fuck him.
the best part?
i never did find out exactly what the fuck an idea specialist is.
hell yeah
during lunch hour, me and the gang went out to the shops to buy essential office stuff.
and we found it.
now this is da shiiiiiiiitt…..
now where do we get premium class A soil?
liar.
when your boss promises you that the next drink he passes you is your last, don’t believe him. instead, turn around and run for the hills.
i’m still woozy.
directing a photoshoot when you can’t even walk straight is really interesting. slurring your words does nothing to help the models understand what the fuck you are trying to say.
it started yesterday when my boss decided that we had sucked enough dick to satisfy our clients and deserved a just reward, besides our cum-coated tongues. he gives us cash to go buy a bottle of chivas which we now store happily in the office for small emergencies. we had one small emergency last nite, and thus remedied it with several shots of whiskey. later that night, hitting the bar he goes and opens 4 goddamn bottles. i’ve never drunk vodka and whiskey as if it was just air suam mamak.
andrew was lucky enough to be wearing shorts, where a dear middle aged hostess happily put her hand up his shorts to cop a feel. subsequently, he puked.
the situation was getting desperate, and i knew i had to get out of there or die in a blaze of glory, most probably with my undies over my head and my mouth clamped over some fat g-stringed ass (hopefully female). i called my good friend made in redang, chui.
chui is an angel. she came in a shining silver honda, picked me up, and drove off to ss2 mamak where she proceeded to calmly watch me puke my guts out in the sewer. gratified, i repeated my magnificent performance in her car, on the street, outside my gate, in my garden, by my bedside (dammit had to clean that up), in the bathroom and god knows where else.
i puked a lot last night.
i still feel pukey.
dammit.
dammit.
it’s 4.15 am.
i’m in the office alone, planning out an event that is coming up this september.
it’s freezing cold in here.
my eyes are bloodshot.
listening to khaha.com internet comedy radio is starting to get on my nerves. who choses the standup comedians for these shows anyway? they’re not funny, they’re lame and just plain dumb quite often. now don’t get me wrong! i like dumb jokes, being a purveyor of them, but these jokes exceed tolerable lameness. prank calls are funny if they’re witty, sarcastic and well done. calling up someone and screaming into the phone does not make you funny. it just makes you cross the line of tolerable lameness. put your right finger and thumb in an L shape and affix them to their rightful place - your forehead. god knows they belong there.
i’ve found out recently just how far one can go in a small company. it’s amazing. i’m no longer that carefree cheerful guy who doesn’t want anything more to do than watch people in chicken rubber suits hump each other to the tune of yankee doodle while eating peanuts. i’ve now metamorphed (suitably cool geeky word inserted) into this stressed pseudo-responsible person who loses sleep worrying whether his copy and layout and even direction of the campaign is to be gracefully and majestically flung and ignored by the client. hell, i’ve even turned down downloading videos of nekkid women doing the can can dance while milking cows and vacuuming the carpet at the same time. i didn’t even watch the damn Bored Naked Housewives Doing Chores Vol. 2 Special with Extra Screwdriver Included which i was saving up for a rainy day.
sigh.
everytime i tell myself that i won’t stay back in the office something always turns up. you think i like to spend my nights as well as my days in the office? i try to go back early whenever i can, but sometimes when work calls, i can’t get out.
advertising is a bitch wearing a strap on 12 foot thorny dick with a fetish for hard male ass.
without lubrication too, dammit.
food rage
wednesday 29 june 2005, 7.45pm, undisclosed mamak place in taman tun.
ma’eka calmly finished his plate of nasi campur with leg of lamb.
he looked thoughtfully in front of him and put down the fork and spoon.
tim and fizz looked at him quizically.
after a pause, ma’eka confesses.
“i don’t know why, but everytime i finish my food and feel full i feel…. pissed off.”
tim almost chokes on his teh ais while trying not to laugh. narrowly avoids stabbing his eyes with his knife as he bends over laughing helplessly. what a near death experience!
and that is the case written out for attempted murder.
the united states of whatever
interesting.
i’ve been kicked out of the counterstrike server because i killed the main guy. how mature of him.
anyway, i’m here undercover pretending to be a kid in a cybercafe full of kids. ah wait, there are a few slightly older people here… roughly 18 - 19 i guess. and look at what they’re doing!
taking group pictures in a cybercafe does not make you happening. it just shows you need to get out of mummy’s apron.
no, doing the peace sign together-gether in a goddamn cybercafe isn’t cute either. and you’re still not happening. and switch off the goddamn flash dammit!
the masala dance.
i’ve found out that there is a masala dance move in aerobics class.
and when i saw the pictures of the moves, i solemnly swore to myself that i will never eat mutton masala ever again.
saturday night saw me, frostie, dkat, tall canadian man (TCM) and lina at sri nirwana bangsar enjoying our white steamed rice tastefully arranged on greenish largish leaves from the banana tree. food was good, if slightly mediocre and i have this thing against drinking teh ais from plastic cups. call me snobbish but i want my teh ais in a glass. period. hah.
it’s been an interesting week for me. office politics has now reared it’s ugly head (and damn it’s ugly) and we’ve tried to sort things out. we’re going to try a new more effective system. if it works, it works… if it doesn’t, then i’ll fall back on my old job as the uncontested king of bumz.
worse comes to worse i’d just join good ol frostie for more drinks and maybe pau a ciggie or two off him. see how lah.
life sometimes can be really hectic, rushing by you and leaving you gasping in the dirt. stressing, isn’t it? sometimes you have to stop and smell the flowers. here are a few pointers for de-stressing.
1. go outside.
2. lie down on the grass in your garden. no garden? fine. lie down on the sidewalk then. make sure you’re not standing next to any women wearing short mini skirts though… possible future law suit there.
3. no, the middle of a busy road is off limits, unless you have justification and would like to have a tyre thread mark style tattoo over your face.
4. look up at the sky. if you:
4.a) can’t really see anything much because it’s raining, then get up, go back inside, dry yourself off and smack yourself over the head for being an idiot lying down outside on the pavement/grass in the rain in the first place. idiot.
4.b) see a lot of tree branches above you bearing pigeon bottoms, i suggest you move. NOW. oops. too late. countless applications of tissue paper and facial cleanser and possibly toothbrush with toothpaste is now strongly recommended.
4.c) see nothing but blue sky and some white clouds, relax. watch the clouds float by. everything you do is insignificant in the big view. you think you have problems? hah! tell that to the koala bear babies who practically have to eat their parent’s digested shit, just to survive. tell that to the elephants who are poached daily for their tusks. tell it to those poor religious enforcement officers who go raiding clubs too. they can’t get off any other way, the poor sods. life is hard when you have the face which somewhat resembles a rhino’s constipated backside… all strained, tense and puckered up.
i believe if everyone was to stop and slow down, and not be so stressed and hectic, the world would be a much better place. makes you wish for the 70’s again doesn’t it? the land of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll!
i feel this sudden urge to stick a flower in my hair.
wheee!
i took thursdays off because i have japanese classes in the most bestest hottest wowest uni in the whole wide world, mmu.
*note: if you think i said that with sincerity, kindly do us all a favour and shoot yourself.
last week’s japanese class was great! i went there, signed up for it and found out that i was surrounded by a befy of japanese babes who were really interested to know about me and my hobby of bellydancing on the school desks while gyrating my hips ala hippo style. they then proceeded to worship me and bow down before me and exclaim on how manly my luscious hairy thighs were and everything accumulated nicely in an alcohol fuelled peanut binging orgy. whew!
ok, so i lied.
i did manage to get my friend to sign my attendance for me though, and spent the rest of the day in bed racked by guilt and generally repenting my sin of skipping class by plonking my ass in bed and reading books and watching porn. japanese, so as to relate to class. i then avowed myself to righteously attend class next week.
needless to say, i didn’t. but! not my fault. i checked an online bulletin to see what i missed for last weeks introductory class and found out that by majority of votes, class has been shifted to mondays starting this week. go me!
ah well, all is fine as i still get paid leave from my boss anyway. i shall have to change my leave day to monday though. i must admit though, sitting down at home with absolutely nothing to do is mind-numbingly boring. i shall go out later.
more weekly feeds
i was in the shower happily washing my hair when i got this majorly huge urge to blog.
here i am, wearing nothing but a towel and sitting down in front of my pc to blog. my fingers are itching to press upon the keyboard lovingly like caresses poking the cellulite on my expansive belly. i pause, awaiting for the inspiration for some great content to come.
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hang on, it’s coming.
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anytime soon…
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fuck it, i’m going to go sleep lah.
dammit.
i’m going to wear a hair band first thing in the morning tomorrow.
The further misadventures of Sir Hatim.
the following is a post which i wanted to put up some time ago, but somehow never got around to doing it. it’s a bit outdated, but don’t mind it.
i wonder why i never got published.
The Further Misadventures Of Sir Hatim The Moaner!
Standing there amidst the shattered glass, Sir Hatim The Befuddled looked around him forlornly. How mighty was the fallen!
Turning around and facing his other allies in the quest for The Nirvana State of Intoxication, Sir Hatim The It Wasn’t Me Honest I Dunno What Happened tried to apologise. Yet his graceful hostess Alyssa de Bukit Jalil And Mistress of the House bid him be silent.
“Say no more, good Sir Hatim, for lo! How well do we know the potency of the Divine Mead of the Gods. For wasn’t it said that he who drinks Chivas will achieve a blissful state in which he could converse with the Beyond?”
A sharp sting at his hand brought startled Sir Hatim The Tiu Nya Ma Chi Bai I’ve Cut My Hand. Numbly, he stared as the blood dripped down. Thinking quickly, the mighty Fizah, Championess of Disaster Recovery And Bane of All Stupid Users led him to the Holy Bathroom where he may tend to his ghastly life-threatening wounds which were ab0ut 1 cm wide and 0.2cm deep.
Meanwhile the rest of the assembly chuckled to themselves in fond reminiscence. Oh, they knew Sir Hatim The Look At Me Look Look I Can Do This very well. His antics which were brought on by the consumption of the potent Divine Mead of Bacchus which often transformed and magicked him into a babbling Divine Idiot were often subjects fit for discussion.
Once his hand was tended to, Sir Hatim The Gosh Did I Do That sighed and sat himself down in a drunken stupor. He somehow had foreseen this, for lo! Was not his family renowned for foresight?
His adventure had started from the time his mighty stallion cum donkey, the Mighty Betty The BangBus had refused to awaken from her deep slumber. Looking around balefully at her master, Betty the Bangbus waggled her tail grumpily, and proceeded to excrete out filth on to the floor. Sir Hatim looked on grumpily and made a mental note to get Betty the Leaking exhaust pipe checked by the Royal Mechanic.
Borrowing his sire’s sleek Blue Steed With Automatic Transmission, Sir Hatim The Driving A Blue Mercedes left on the first of his three quests to achieve the Divine Mead Of The Gods.
His first quest was a rendezvous with the lovely young maiden, Jia Meei The Future Lawyer Who Likes To Pijak Pijak People One and her merry Mafia Posse. Sir Hatim The Helpless Old Dude was overwhelmed by their numbers, and thus spent his time wisely sipping his Baileys quietly at the table.
Leaving the merry men, Sir Hatim The I Can Still Walk Straight alighted his Steed Of Steel and proceeded lustily onwards to take part in the joyous celebrations of fair damsel Sui Lin, Queen Of Blogland who held a gala in honour of her 23rd summer. Fair Lynnzter The Mixer brought along many different meads and potions to enable the guests to converse and discourse with those from beyond; truly after a while quite a number were happily regaling their mighty deeds and tales to each other in the happy delusion that the other party was listening.
The sun had retired, and the moon was happily gloriously dancing amongst the stars as Sir Hatim The Whoa I Can See Double left the boisterous yet happy group. He had one more quest to go.
Arriving in the land of Bukit Jalil with mighty spurts of Flame, Sir Hatim Double Vision who was accompanied by the champion of all those who believe in the stupidity of end-users, the Mighty Fizah Of Disaster Recovery arrived at the abode of fair Alyssa who was holding a minor celebration to celebrate the end of her bondage to the vile personification of evil itself, MMU.
All those present saw the arrival of Sir Hatim The Trying Not To Look Drunk and muttered to themselves of bad portents and omens of things to come. Sir Hatim The I’m OK No Really tried to reassure them by telling a listening lamp post and a sympathetic mail box that truly he was still sober, it was ok.
Grabbing a goblet of mead, he proceeded to calmly and skillfully spill it over himself, the chairs and a few fellow guests.
Apologizing profusely, Sir Hatim The Damn Pai Seh tried to offer help, only to be rebuffed curtly. Trying to make things better, Sir Hatim The Truly I’m Sorry got up, and then to show how sorry he was, proceeded to walk into a glass pane near the entrance of the humble abode.
Sir Hatim The Mighty triumphs again!
weekly feed
routine is the death of creativity.
i am dying slowly. it’s like numbing your brain and choking it with a pink feather boa and forcing it to listen to abba all day long. slowly.
on a lighter note, watching three designers go about their workstations while bopping their heads synchronized to the melodious riffs of the darkness’s i believe in a thing called love has it’s perks.
i’m sick of maggi.
religious fanatism sucks. big time.
chino morenaz’s side band team sleep rocks. big time.
my brother came back from the usa. as soon as he stepped into the house, my sister screamed and refused to open the door for him. it’s one thing to come back with hair covering every single part of your body, but when facial hair area includes cheeks, then you know it’s time for a shave. not those cheeks, silly. but i digress. the transformation that subsequently followed was completely astounding. my brother evolved from some cro-magnon neanderthal into a normal, cultured homo sapien, with albeit of a shaggy mane. speech and language improvement followed en suite.
however take note! the shaggy mane is in. i’ve met quite a few people who are proud of their thick lustrous wavy and curly locks which could put the now defunct scary spice to shame. and we’re talking about guys here. almost makes me wish that i hadn’t cut my hair… life has lost its meaning now that i can’t go about with lustrous locks which resemble those of a guy who stuck his unmentionables in a power socket. sadness is me.
i need inspiration.
i’m starting to hate the stupid song “i am so laaawwwwwnnnnnnn-leeeeeeeeeeeeeee” because:
1. the high pitch voice sounds stupid.
2. the high pitch voice wavers, and sounds stupid.
3. the high pitch voice doesn’t pick up any feeling of loneliness in me, and at the same time sounds stupid.
4. it’s almost sounds like someone who smoked a joint alongside helium, which is kind of cool, but fails therefore sounds stupid.
5. it sounds like alvin the chipmunk getting a blowjob and realising that the person sucking him off was donald duck, which is stupid.
6. oh and did i mention it just sounds stupid?
i feel very deprived of alcohol now. and other unmentionable stuff.
i need a holiday.
i’ve got goosebumps.
it’s been a while, hasn’t it?
it’s flattering in a weird twisted way when people in the street start glaring at you and hiss “lazy blogger!” in menacing undertones. i didn’t realise that i was denying them their weekly dosage of satire and stupidity.
here i am, sitting in a freezing cold office while my sunburnt skin flakes off cheerfully, leaving red raw patches of flesh behind. yeap, i’m cooked. well-done, too.
redang during wesak holiday is still somewhat a haven on earth, despite having little kids which you could cheerfully and happily throw off the boat to feed the sharks that supposedly inhabit the waters. me being to wussy and scared to feed the sharks decide instead to feed breadcrumbs to little nemo wannabes. a peaceful three day holiday filled with sand, sun, sea and plenty of alcohol at night, we decided to spice things up by having a banana boat ride.
for those of you who have never ridden on a banana boat, be warned.
it hurts.
oh yes, it’s fun to be dragged across the sea at the speed of 60 km/h with seaspray splashing you in the face and entering your every orifice. it’s great fun to try and yell manfully… or in my case, whimper pathetically as you try to hang on to a bucking bronco which seems to have every intention of tossing you off and humping you in a lust filled frenzy. it’s even fun when everyone realises that there is no fucking way at all that they can hang on and doom lies ahead in approximately…… 2 seconds.
it is not fun, however, when you fall and hit the water face first at 60 km/h. seawater goes up your nose, and takes up residence in your brain. the boat goes over you and continues on in it’s mad bucking frenzy, apparently with your arms still attached. it is with great surprise that you notice that they are still somewhat attached to your torso. it is also with great surprise you realise that the foot of the person behind you has intimately made friends with your ribcage, and has apparently been trying to dryfuck each other in earnest. as you reach the surface of the murky water, coughing and spluttering and generally trying to puke out the gallon or so of seawater from your guts, what better way to cheer you up than to have the boatdriver cheerfully and casually mention that there are sharks spotted in this general area of water at night. after four or five similar dunkings we limp back to the resort laughing and comparing bruises.
on the boat heading back to the mainland, we are happily reminded of the banana boat when our ferry happily tilts suddenly to one side, almost capsizing, causing screams of consternation and one dear old aunty to lose her grip and go tumbling across the floor. with bated breath we await a second tilt and prepare to dive off the boat in a exciting and graceful jump, but unfortunately the boat straightens itself out and we reach the jetty without further undue excitement.
to alleviate our disappointment, lunch was at kuala terengganu where i entertained the rest by showing them how swollen my lips was from an allergy to seafood which i never knew about.
due to a strange reluctance on my side to resemble fez from that 70’s show, i cut my hair short.
from the squarespace archives pt9.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Sunday, January 9, 2005 at 04:58AM by
of barbeques and frisbees
i’m bloated.
full of countless bbqued meat from chicken to lamb to the occasional security guard who wandered across our bbq site. we had our class bbq in cyberia.. a sort of post new year’s eve celebration. it was a lot of hard work, admittedly but hey! all in the name of fun. only gripe is that it wasn’t really private as it was at the poolside of an apartment which is notorious for it’s damn kaypoh security guards who would poke in their big ass noses and try tobe important and such. ah well. everytime one passed by we’d ambush him and fry him up to be served to the other unsuspecting gate crashers. if they mentioned anything which even remotely sounded like criticism we’d chloroform then and fry them as well.
nah… didn’t actually.
but we were tempted to, though.
what with the location being the poolside, most of the guys were happily thinking of dunking in a few of the girls… you know… all the harmless testosterone fun and adoloscent fooling about and all that. what stopped us was the strange glint in their eyes as they jabbed the bbqued sausages in a certain way that made all of us wince. we decided to behave, and throw them in some other time. so in the end, nobody got dunked, and everyone behaved in a nice decent public manner.
but we were tempted to, though.
we made a few interesting discoveries.
1. lighting a bbq fire with charcoal that has been soaked in lighter fluid is cool.
it’s super damn cool. ah don’t worry… my eyebrows will grow back soon. 
2. a tupperware cover makes an excellent frisbee if you know how to throw it properly. unfortunately, liquid-filled cups do not.
3. neither does a chicken wing, no matter how hard you throw it.
4. do not throw ice cubes in the pool water when there are people swimming in it. ah screw it. go ahead, chuck it in!
one last personal discovery that i made was that somehow i look very gay at bbques.
from the squarespace archives pt8.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Wednesday, January 12, 2005 at 10:24PM by
move that ass.
liann’s got a new place. it looks pretty decent too. she was sooooo
excited about moving that she called a grand total of eight people to
carry half a van’s worth of stuff. in the end, each of us had the sum
of a more or less fairly largish box to carry. julian had on his heavy
duty leather gloves… guaranteed to handle even the heaviest load.
anyway, once we moved allllll her stuff into her new apartment (whom
she’s sharing with jimmy, but that’s another story) we all decided that
we had worked hard enough to require a drink to refuel our righteously
dehydrated bodies. i mean, it is hard work for 7 strong brawny and
sweaty men to carry 1 small chest of drawers (empty, mind you) a set of
plastic drawers filled with clothes and a few plastic bags.
there is something disturbing about the sight of two men walking while
carrying a set plastic drawers. red and azril were actually giggling as
they carried it. i wondered why until i noticed that as they walk, the
drawers would move up and down following their movement…. which was
weird, to say the least. in fact, i can swear that they were actually
humping the damn thing. ah well. liann is going to have quite a bunch
of sticky clothes later i guess.
dinner was at williams. he’s done it again, and come up with some
really spanking new pasta dish. it’s seafood pasta with garlic and
olive oil this time, and damn… it’s good. seriously. just thinking
about it now is making my stomach growl and threaten to shake it’s
booty ala ricky martin on stale ecstasy.
i need food. badly.
and sleep too.
and other unmentionable stuff.
badly.
from the squarespace archives pt7.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Thursday, January 13, 2005 at 10:04AM by
big muscular brawny mechanic.
hah!
got you all! each and everyone of you were kind of hoping to see some
pictures of some buff topless sweaty guy bending over the car engine
and making intelligible remarks like “looks like your radiator pipe is
bent. let me make it hard again.” or something more or less along that
line.
or maybe you were all wondering “gosh, he’s finally embraced his sexual orientation! hallellujah!”
but either way hah! you’re all wrong! got you all!
i drove betty the bangbus today to class. well, ok. not to all the way
to class perhaps. dammit ok! ok! i’ll come clean. i only made about
two/thirds of the journey from beautiful petaling jaya to the arid
wastes of cyberjaya when betty decides to die on me. when i performed
post-morterm upon her i couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she
decided to die. she seemed to be pretty much topped up, when it came to
body fluids. i tried reviving her, and after a few sputters and groans,
with maniacal cackling uncanny resembling igor wanking to turkey porn,
succeeded in starting her. got into the bangbus, gave a triumphant
two-fingered peace sign to all and sundry and drove of to a chorus of
loud harmonious flatulence.
only to have her die again not more than 2 kilometres down the road.
got out of betty and realised that the hormonious flatulence wasn’t
quite a good thing to hear from a van engine. not even if it was a
perfect rendition of beethoven’s ode to joy. luckily i there was a
petrol station nearby which took me about 2 seconds to reach by foot. i
decided to wait a while and have a drink at the nearby r&r. after
about an hour, i tried starting betty up again. this time it took
longer for her to respond to my sensual touch, and when she did finally
start again, it was with a terminal coughing. i decided to turn back
and head to a mechanic.
she died 2 more times again on the way back home. luckily there was
always an indication that she was about to die; she’d start gasping for
breath, the death rattle in her throat would start to… well, rattle
and her flatulent renditions of beethoven’s ode to joy would pick up in
tempo, as if the mad conductor who is heading the orchestra is in his
ecstatic convulsions from sticking his baton up his ass and using it to
conduct while he wanks off furiously wearing a chicken on his head.
thanks to these warning signs, i manage to bring her to a safe place to
die; mainly tesco, puchong and sunway pyramid where i abided my time by
dining at mcdonalds while watching two kids yell at each other and beat
the shit out of their daddy with much amusement. after an hour of such
intellectual and cultural enjoyment, i went back to betty and managed
to get her to die finally, at my house.
as soon as my dad came back, i went with him, betty and his
boring-unnamed-no-personality-what-so-ever car and went to the mechanic
where he said “itu teppet ada problem.”
i swear, for a minute there i thought i was subtly having my manhood insulted by this guy.
then i realised that there is a part in the car called a teppet. or tappet. or whatever lah.
the mechanic wasn’t brawny at all; he was this skinny apek guy. so go and fantasise about him lah! ahahahahah *evil laugh*
from the squarespace archives pt6.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Sunday, January 16, 2005 at 05:35AM by
silly things to watch when you are bored.
should you not feel loved, when all is in despair, and life doesn’t seem worth living anymore do not fret. help is at hand.
http://perakonline.mine.nu/slam/
i was in tears from laughing so much. the poor pooooooor guy.
from the squarespace archives pt5.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Wednesday, January 19, 2005 at 08:50PM by
of gay drinks and that supreme state of horizontalness
i’m still on a buzz.
i’ve always wondered how come people think it’s feminine to sip a cocktail.
why the hell do cocktails have such feminine names?
for instance, i was at telawi street bistro today with a few class
chums. word out to debbie, aina and alyssa for coming out to drink with
me :). all of us had cocktails. when one person skims through the menu,
one is greeted by the sight of soooo many drinks with…. shall we say
suggestive? names. orgasm. sex on the beach. screaming orgasm.
XXXX sucking cowboy. blowjob. love potion. and these are merely a few
of the various cocktails that are served… not even the “extra”
services.
i had a love potion, to begin
with. oh my god, it was so gay. a little pink drink with plenty of
whipped cream and a little darling cherry on top., served in a bowl
wine glass. it’s the type of glass that requires little dainty slender
fingers to hold in a particular way while the owner of the fingers
grooms the other slender fingers through his/her slick hair elegantly
and laughs in a particular “ha ha ha” polite manner (imitates shaking
of shoulders and tilt of head). even the cherry suggested subtle traces
of anti-masculinity as it just sits there rather stupidly on the
whipped cream awaiting you to pop it into your mouth while pouting your
lips in a seductive and hopefully amber chia manner.
but appearances are deceptive, because i swear, that drink is a complete hard ass bitch.
holy crap, it packs a whallop. consisting of a lethal mix of vodka,
schnapps and most likely anti freeze topped with strawberries and god
knows what else, it’s enough to get you slightly stoned on the first
sip. my chums, who happened to be female, were sticking with the more
masculine cocktails like vodka espresso and i can’t remember the names
of the other drinks. but hell, at least they were in decent honest-to-god glass cups.
after the love potion i went on with an orgasm. i don’t care what
people say. it does not feel right whatsoever to call up a waiter, and
tell him that i want an orgasm. whoever came up with these names for
the drinks are really sad people who apparently never had sex before
and therefore need a smack up the head with an elephants backside. take
love potion for instance. take away the silly cherry and whipped cream
and put it in a manly cup. voila! instant manly intoxicating drink
which will become the man’s drink. you dare me to bottoms up a jug of
beer? i dare you to take a bottoms up a mug of love potion.
being the great chums that me and my classmates are, we all decided to
experiment and bought a wide variety of drinks. the purpose? to try out
new drinks previously unheard of until our tastebuds decide to commit
harakiri or we’ve achieved the supreme state of having your sluggish
body comfortably horizontal. to avoid getting sick on this impulsive
alcohol binge, we decided to grab a pizza.
leaving telawi street bistro pretty much walking on cloud 9, we were
joined by a very cheerful and chubby bobo who we called up all to join
us all the way from putrajaya. feeling brave and as strong as a dozen
virile gay bulls in a locked up pen we decided to go to the thai club
in kl to further attempt to reach that supreme state of comfortable
horizontalness. i left them for a while to send back dkat, whom i had
the pleasure of bumping into. word out to dkat! glad you had a great
time. and no you weren’t talking that loud. or if you were, so was
everyone else, so fuck it and relax. no, seriously.
coming back to kl, i got caught in the typical saturday night jam near
hard rock, which caused me to stare agog at some people who think they
look sexy as hell, and walk as if they think they look sexy as hell and
even pose as if they thought they looked sexy as hell. it was an
instant hair of the dog. if you’re drunk and need a way to get sober
fast, go out there and watch trannies strut their stuff. there are good
ones, i know, but then there are also these types which apparently have
never heard of the words “gillette mach3 for real men only super smooth skin guaranteed! terms and conditions apply” before.
parking my car near passion, i walked across to rejoin my chums
only to be stopped by some other girl friends who insisted i share a
drink with them. yippee! i don’t know what drink i had, but once
again… like the other deceivingly feminine appearing cocktails it
could bloody well anaesthize a bull. waving farewell in a happy haze, i
took my leave and proceeded to amble in an endearingly clumsy gait to
thai bar, which i found out had just been raided and was therefore
closed. not that it mattered to the people inside who were still
happily achieving that nirvana state of horizontalness. the music was
switched off however. i managed to locate bobo and the girls and we had
good old oily mamak food and-
oh shit ah crap dammit fuck fuck fuck ma ci fucking bai stupid cat just
suddenly managed to crawl in my window and gave me a damn heart attack.
i’m going to send dkat to work then i’m going to go home and scare the
shit out of the cat by making rowan atkinson faces at it. or maybe even
george bush. but then again maybe not… i don’t want to be savagely
mauled by my cat. or have my face used as a territory marking post.
from the squarespace archives pt4.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Friday, January 21, 2005 at 12:34AM by
back to the future.
i’m currently listening to old school heavy metal.
this is not good. all those memories and feelings which i thought i had managed to sweep aside are threatening to come out and do a vicious samba on my expansive navel.
a friend of mine is coming back from aussie tonite. he messaged me the other day asking me whether we could go headbanging and jamming when he comes back. i would love to, actually. it’s been ages and we’re going to sound like we gave david hasselhorf multiple blowjobs while wearing cheesy turkey suits, but hey, all in the name of fun and music. he needs to release some really pent up emotions that he’s had inside. ahahah! it’d be like the old times when we’d burst our eardrums and shatter windows and proceed to yum cha while thinking goddamn we’re damn yau yeng. yeah. stylish.
sometimes i wish time would stand still. life goes by too fast that it becomes a blur and at the end of the day you’re just left there standing alone going “what? what?” because everyone’s passed you by. it’s like everyone’s rushing for everything, from deadlines to relationships to feeding your cat. for instance i was in the police station today, paying off my various outdated summonses so as to avoid being thrown into a jail cell and finding out the true meaning of “tossing someone’s salad”. almost everyone in malaysia was in that one little room where, true to malaysian efficiency only 2 out of the 6 counters were open. calmly waiting in line for my turn to beg and plead mercy and throw myself on my knees, i watched these people with an almost bemused detached manner.
dude, telling the police that you are a very busy man and you have kids at home is not going to lessen your charges. nope. nada. lady, the chairs are there for people to sit on. yes, to sit on. you know, for people’s asses? yeah. no.. no.. not your handbag. no…not your handphone and news paper either. what goes on a chair again? think about it… almost…. almost…! oh dear.. don’t burn out thinking too much. clearly it’s an unfamiliar process. good effort though.
my only problem with not rushing is that if i don’t watch out, i’m going to be left behind, stuck in the past.
i can’t do that. it’d be great…. but it’d also be painful all over again.
nah, i’ve moved on. but hey man… chill ok! the true brutalness comes from taking things chill and slow… no point rushing like a headless horny chicken right?
i mean we’ll get there in the end, anyway.
chill wei!
from the squarespace archives pt3.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Friday, January 21, 2005 at 08:10PM by
dammit it won’t flush.
what is going on?
i’m too chicken shit to go out to any bar or club or lounge even zoo
negara now coz chances are most likely i’d be caught by the police,
thrown into some dingy lockup with other inmates who get off playing
with each other’s crusty toes and be forced to pick up soap from the
slimy floor of the communal shower. they’ve started raiding most of the
nightspots in kl, and surprise surprise, they ain’t coming for those
who are merely drunk, or high, or have a syringe chock full of crack up
their arse, no. those are merely trivialities, no big deal, nothing
much to shout about, you know what i’m saying? they’re after something
much, much more serious.
they’re after malays.
rumour has it that our good boys in blue are going about and checking
up on the popular places like zouk, nouvo and god knows what else
checking up on whether the patrons are malay or not. if the poor sod
happens to cakap melayu, god help him as they brought along some pak
haji from some jawi office who is going to lecture him then and there
on what a worthless piece of shit he is and how his parents would be
ashamed to have given birth to such an ungrateful little turd and yadda
yadda; you get my drift. to make matters worse, i also heard that the
poor parents are roped in no matter what the bloody time is and once
again, the lecture from the respectable aforementioned pak haji; your
child… improper upbringing… spoilt.. shitty training… you know,
the works. of course, these are merely rumours, but i’m taking no
chances. especially when i heard that a friend of a friend got caught.
what the hell is going on?
and then we have the latest case of the police arresting the
“undisciplined offenders” who have yet to pay their traffic summons. i
was at the police station just yesterday paying of 600 bucks of
summonses which were caused by me and my good old dad. mind you, there
were a damn lot of people queing up to pay, as noone quite fancied the
idea of being thrown into a lockup with other inmates who get off
playing with each other’s crusty toes and love to pick up soap from the
slimy floor of the communal shower. up to date, about 6000 poor sods
have been arrested by the police. that’s a lot of soap. i noticed that
a lot of money was coming in to the police though. the minimum charge
was 80 bucks per person. again, up to date, the police released a press
statement that they have collected a total of 7,000,000 bucks in the
past 3 - 4 days.
what the hell is going on?
now i know that we had it coming. but at the same time i feel that
there has to be a connection of the two aforementioned incidents. is
someone up there shaking things up so that he can show off to the world
that he is more than just a pretty face? is someone trying to say look
at me! i’m so righteous!
dammit i feel damn bitchy now.
from the squarespace archives pt2.
extracted from the lost archives of http://thekanserusone.squarespace.com.
Posted on Sunday, January 23, 2005 at 12:21AM
don’t make me spank you.
happy hari raya haji! ahahah.
ok i’ve got that out of my system. i just spent the whole day realising how other people see me. potential gay malay-yet-non-malay el freako.
the latter really struck me. for once in a thousand years i had to wear a baju melayu as it was hari raya haji. first of all i’d like to apologise to the three thousand four hundred and fifty five people who died in car accidents as they stared in stupefaction at this bizarre unusual sight driving down the road. see la… stare some more. padam muka. goddamit, even my cat stared at me. as if it never saw me wear a baju melayu before. hah.
had a sort of yum cha session with leonard and elliot today. pukimak lan ciao they also stared. goddammit. amidst consternations that the pigs were going to fly, and that the world would end tomorrow, we had a few drinks at bangsar san francisco. elliot’s just come back from aussie, and me and leonard were mercilessly torturing him by planning a full session of jamming later when he goes back to penang. hah! what great considerate friends we were. we rock. since i was wearing the gear anyway, i decided to try and converse in malay, and pulled it off quite well, too, i think. those bastards were literally rolling about on the floor laughing like idiots, but that’s another matter. i still think i can talk malay. so fuck off. shaddup. stop laughing.
what’s wrong with the way i sound when i talk malay? i have chinese friends who split their sides and have to be warded in hospital after i chat to them in malay. even when i talk malay to malay friends they stare blankly back at me, and answer in english. goddammit. do i have a wrong slang? is my grammar that off? do i sound that weird? aaaaarrrggghhh.
i’m damn tempted to wear this baju melayu more often. ahahaha see how man… i may wear it out to bar savanh or somewhere. that’d be a sight… this kampung kid wearing baju melayu and doing the shuffle while bumping and grinding with some hunnies. holding a jd coke in hand too. damn yau yeng wei!
i’d use malay pick up lines too.
muka kamu manis seperti teh pekat di mamak.
or even hati aku tertarik bagaikan teh tarik kaw kaw.
yeah man…. with lines like these the world is going to be my oyster! or lala. or see ham. or whatever.
*p/s: for those who didn’t understand the malay pick up lines, leave me a message and i’ll clarify matters and explain not only what they mean and imply, but also why these lines are goddamn good and should be emulated by other guys. seriously.