Football

SPAIN 1-0!!!

And I'm happy because my religion is not Muslim, Christian or any other religion that prohibits its devotees from gambling or punishes them by an almighty stroke of lightning followed by an extremely painful afterlife. Because I won myself RM85. Because I took Spain's side. Only because I refused to put my money in the hands of Nazis.

Happy news aside.

Last freaky Friday, I had plans to go out drinking with Ivan. Then on freaky Saturday, I was supposed to meet WJM for another night out. Nothing freaky right. That's because the plans were made two days in advance.

Then fucking hormones gotta start raging and gave me two zits. Two phenomenally large crater-looking zits, which infected my legs with a viral kind of paralysis, which in turn kept me from lifting my limp foot out of the house. For the whole weekend.

To make matters worse, I was not only computer and MSN-deprived, I was also DVD and TV-deprived. There was an electronic famine in my house. And I was undergoing what is known to man as entertainment starvation. So freaking sien that I even came as close to contemplating suicide.

That's when I discovered the magical entertainment values of the Nintendo DS Lite Super Mario: Partners in Crime Time. And on Sunday, I discovered yet another form of entertainment. Ball.

Went for steamboat in Puchong with fellow friends. They were all guys. And as with all other existing male species in the universe, the only thing anyone can expect to be a topic of conversation is balls. Whether someone has balls, whose balls are bigger, whose balls hairier, rounder, more meaty, packs more sperms and football.

I've made two discoveries.

1. Football is the stupidest game ever made.
There are 22 full-grown men running after 1 ball. Somehow, I cannot get past that fact. And I've made this discovery before they discovered white bread. They make a few million pounds per week! Can't they afford to buy one? (Bimbo remark for bimbo but very rich men).

2. Football is dangerous.
Forget the multiple foot injuries any one player can suffer throughout the season. They asked for it. But it is dangerous even for the people who are just innocent spectators. Getting beaten to death with a tire iron, or strangled with a sweaty sock, or choked with hairy armpits. Even for people who do not watch football, when it's football season, people will bet. And you can bet on everything.

From who kicks off, to who scores the first goal, to who wins the match. What happens to the people who lose? I've known people who lost their cars and homes in ONE game. The thing is, it's okay if you lose your stuff, but don't come begging for money from everyone else or expecting other people to pay for your food. Go be a freaking pauper somewhere else. Preferably in River Styx.

Kung Fu Panda

The steam-potonging Pyo who went to fill her tummy tank with 3 donuts and I went to Isthmus, North Point, where we were both invited to a free dinner before she left to Japan. My mouth was wide-open and I was thrilled.

And my tummy was empty.


Pyo very clever. She ordered Mushroom Salad first


And I ordered this Mango Kerabu thing.

Not a fan of unripe mangoes.


Thai Basil Pesto Penne

The good thing about having a friend there? EXTRA CHEESE ON DEMAND!

Then Hana came along and ordered the same thing with Fettucine. Ate her dinner and proceeded to go back to work. Damn kesian. So we mourned for her and watched Kung Fu Panda on her behalf!



First of all, like all other Jack Black movies, he's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's not funny. He's so not fucking funny.

And I will repeat that as many times as humanly possible.

At least, in Kung Fu Panda, his face wasn't plastered over every other scene. But his voice. His voice is disturbing. His voice shatters the illusion that he's not involved in the movie. As if that makes sense.

And his only kung fu is one that crushes the concrete floor with half a fart. He cannot seriously be a villain-fighting ass-kicking kung fu prodigy. Seriously.

I don't see why everyone around me is raving incessantly about how it's so funny either. It's not even witty funny like Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Were-rabbit. Everything is so cliche. Unlikely hero saves the universe bla bla bla, becomes the star. Yadda yadda ratta-tat-tat shitty-shit-shit quackadee-quack. Villain defeated, hero celebrated, Mexicans waved.

Whatever. I'd rather be listening Angelina Jolie and Lucy Liu's lines. Hmph.

And yes, I did sleep through some of it. Really, it's not THAT funny.

Sayonara Pyo

I was grieving for the past 3 days or so. Weeping like a sad and hurt child after an abuse. Tearing like I'm retarded, because to me, it feels like I'm being dumped.

My bestest friend, sister, companion of 19 years has left for Nagoya, Japan.



Almost 2 decades. Pretty unbelievable, I think.

Not only were we both Librans, we were also born 2 days apart. Granted my date of birth is probably fake, but what does it matter? We were close. STILL ARE. Been in the same kindergarten, primary school, secondary school, and college, live 5 minutes drive away thus the following conversation:

Me: Free ah?
Pyo: Ya, why?
Me: Neela's?
Pyo: OK.
Me: Pick you up?
Pyo: 8pm can?
Me: OK.

Life was easy. And good. Sometimes silly, but good. We did everything together. Camwhored together. Shopped together. Cosplayed together. Studied together. Oggled at Uttsada together. Starchased Machi and Vanness together. Slept together in Penang. And now I miss her.

Pyo has an articulate sense of style. She likes art, drawing, painting, photography and me.


Ceiling painting. Happinezz.


Sexy boob lady (auto-censored) on ceiling.


Gloomy on ceiling.


Pyo likes sexy men. Kakashi and Urahara on ceiling.


I think that's Fujiwara no Sai.


Camwhoring at Hana's office. Yes. She loves us.

Or at least, my self-esteem is telling me she likes us.


She likes kendo. Is terrific at it. And is joining World Tournament in Brazil.


Likes everything about Japan - language, men, sport, culture, men, seasons, food, men.

The incredible thing about her is that she's nothing short of a teacher. Always shares her knowledge, even if forced to keep her mouth shut. Teaches me Japanese sometimes. Cooks awesome kare.


Has impeccable taste at everything.


Likes cutesie stuff sometimes.


Fine. More than sometimes.


Okay, okay. Most of the time.

But it doesn't deduct the amount of coolness that travels like oxygen in her blood. Her heart and soul is just cool. Period.


Creative with things like recycled CDs. WTF.


Sleeps with a T-Rex at her bedside.

I didn't manage to take a photo of her bantal busuk - which she's been holding on to every night while she sleeps for the past 22 years 6 months 1 week 5 days.

Pyo is an artist.


My Sony T-200 Face Detector was tricked by this picture that painted.


Her stuff.

She's interesting in a way that makes her cool. And I really idolize her. Have you seen my notebook? If there was such thing as Stalking 101, my notebook would be a text book, a reference book, and would, in the next century or so, be deemed museum-worthy.


This is Pyo. And I love her to bits.

This is the Pyo that I fell in love with 19 years ago. And I will continue to love her even after she said 'Coming back? What back?'.

I love her to bits and pieces. Even the air that she breathes. Of course, now she's breathing in Japanese air. I hope she breathes more Japanese air on my behalf. Eats more sashimi on my behalf. Drool at handsome men more on my behalf.

Obnoxious Bitch

First off, Mandarin is NOT a language. It is a dialect. It is a dialect like Cantonese, Hakka, Hokkien, Teochew, Hainanese, etc.

SO DON'T FUCKING GIVE ME A LECTURE ON HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO BE CHINESE WHEN I CANNOT SPEAK CHINESE.

You are stupid. Chinese is the parent to Mandarin. What you fucking asswipes are speaking is Mandarin. It is not freaking Chinese. It is called MANDARIN.

As soon as you can get that into that thick skull housing your puny brain and can string a proper grammatically correct English sentence, then you talk to me. Just because I don't speak Mandarin doesn't mean I'm not Chinese.

You barely know me.

Unlike you uneducated germ, I am multi-lingual. While you are trying to cough out clumps of words in Bahasa Malaysia and English, I can speak Hakka, Cantonese, Bahasa Malaysia and out of your freaking mind fluent English. And I'm now freaking learning Japanese. So as an obnoxious stranger, you do NOT get to lecture me or give me a friggin' speech on how to be a friggin' Chinese for not being able to speak friggin' Mandarin.

Hate people who are oblivious to their own idiocy. People who are like that get fingers pointed at them and rocks thrown at them.

****************

I have so much anger and rage going on this blog, I really need a break. From dimwitted living things.

Stupid Petrol Hike

Hike lah! Hike! Everything also hike. The entire economy will cave in one of these days. In the near future. You cannot live in Malaysia if you are earning RM1,500.

Car installments: RM600 [Balance RM900]

Freaking petrol: RM200 [Balance RM700]
If you're a hermit

Food & rent: RM600 [Balance RM100]
If you're staying with mommy, good for you.

Utility bills: RM200 [Balance -RM100]
Only if you have cold showers, handwash your clothes, sleep at 8pm with no air-conditioning, don't have insurance, don't socialize, don't blog, don't shit, don't breathe.

And we still have to pay for the damn toll: RM100 [Balance -RM200]
Unless you work from home, which overwrites the Utility Bill count.

In 5 years, you will owe people more than RM10,000. Yes. Go to die.

Once upon a peaceful Wednesday night, I was in the US. Going forward on the right lane, coming forward on the left lane. Because the Shell station had to plant itself nicely there.



Duration to get home from Taman Desa: 50 freaking minutes. No joke.

People came prepared with tongs and Coca-Cola bottles to fill up - hogging the kiosk, delaying traffic.



There were queues. ON THE FREAKING HIGHWAY! You can tell that those who keep signaling right have already filled their tanks happy. ONLY TO SPEND A THIRD OF THE TANK ON THE TRAFFIC JAM.

Ridiculous.

Been reading some articles on the fuel hike and randomly interviewing colleagues. Suggested to boss that we should stay in the office. Sleeping bags.

You know what's wrong with Malaysia?

Cost of living goes up and up and up and up. Skyrocketing month after month, year after year. And all they can come up with is 'Ubah Gaya Hidup Anda'? Month after month, year after year, our gaya hidup is plummeting down. Down, down, down. Soon we'll all have to show up at work in our underwear and eat bread with water. And you wonder why the election results were what they are.

Shocking right?

No, not really. Guess his race.

: )

Long Khong 2

Art of the Devil.

I'm a fan of Satanic mojo-jojo and demonic voodoo-woodoo. Don't mind me while I worship a severed head or something.



If you have a relatively strong, healthy heart, you can watch. If you like gory teeth-gritting violence, you may like it. In fact, I recall commenting that Long Khong was very fresh with its torture ideas. The one I remember most was pouring boiling water down someone's throat.

Long Khong 2 has more new ideas to offer. Could I say, on par with Saw? Of stabbing yourself in the temple, pinning your eyes wide open, dripping hot wax into your eyeballs.

Watch the trailer.

It's actually quite sick. Insanely, painfully disgusting. And psychotic. I don't want to know whose demented mind thought so creatively how to torture an old man like that.