i'm no themepark.

(Thursday, September 29, 2005)

on the other hand, koop and st. germain ~~playing~~ play (look at the grammar mistake) superbly banging tunes.

8:39 PM

abritary unimaginary logically-challenged futile venting.

(Wednesday, September 28, 2005)

photo taken since 2 minutes ago.

unanswered thought since last year
if a glass of wine a day is healthy,
then what's a bottle of wine a day, 4x health?

***

ranting that was supposed to be here since yesterday
teoh's a loud barking ~~bitch~~gentleman.
especially when he's in the office with msn, lacking with things to do. the ~~dick~~man continuously rant and complain about how little things he's got to do which then after followed by a year long expression of literal suppressed grudge he held against everyone's costumer, everybody's boss and business contants.
collectively, he had told me:
1. to utter grim profanities to my customer - 4 times
2. cancel my appointment so i can talk to him on msn - 30 times
3. ditch my resentful work in the office and go to the beach - once
4. go clubbing at 3.30pm - once
5. that he's bored more than - a million times. and he misses being in 3 different states in a week.
6. a myriad forms of bile he had against his clients. or mine in that sense. - 5 times.
7. that his customers are more of a ~~pussified wanker~~ ~~bastard~~ ~~cibai kia~~ uncultured gentleman compared to mine - 7 times.

conclusion: i think the fact that his girlfriend is in london has finally given the sadistic fucker a docile apprehensiveness. which is good. because teoh brings it when he's in misery. oh don't ask me bring what. it's a bloody black term ok?

***

random thought since i knew these blokes
if there was a bottle of Chianti on the table,
Jim drinks like a fish, Jack drinks more than two fishes, and Johnny drinks like half a fish, how many bottles of Pinot Noir is under the table?

***

occured ever since i started reading gaiman
neil gaiman makes me sleepy.
but i love to read his shit anyways.

who the ~~fuck~~ hell doesn't make me sleepy?

***

been bothering since 9am
what do you call a person that worship trees or stones or sun and etc?

someone told me since an hour ago
vulgar words shall not be used because of the immense bad influence it might radiate to the younger viewers.

potrait capture since last weekend

raining since hours ago

9:48 AM

mortality concerns.

(Monday, September 26, 2005)

unlike any other ordinary month, i'm only left with 10 bloody buckaroos in my pocket for the rest of the month till the next salary cashes in. this is a sentence where i should fill it with every fucking single detail of description filled with nuclear-war scale profanity on how the unfortunate financial discrepancy got a hook on my feet - basically, i'm just plain penniless. end of story.

actually, i was left with more money in my pocket, until a certain deceitful misguided informer of mine fed me with an inaccurate piece of intel when my other friend is about to proudly stamp her face on a page in a local bimbo magazine which was almost non-existant to me previously. nonchalantly, i threw a few bucks into getting that good-for-nothing magazine just to ascertain that my discovery wasn't as interesting as when 13 year old sarah discovered the tremendous magic of shower heads; i secured a wrong issue which meant as much as an uneloquent gaudy ass wipe. the content were too ignorant and obnoxious for a bloke to handle. truth to be told that i had an ultimate urgency to hang myself after i finished the cover page.

so i went in and i knelt and grovel and kiss someone's toe to get a refund but they repelled me like any other vermin. no actually, i didn't go back to the shop but instead i went home, put on my flashiest skirt and go 'booo hooo hoo'. haha. as the matter of fact, i did not do any of those. i just went home and set the magazine on fire as part of the vengeful ritual to doom my friend for life.

being completely broke is not fine when you're stuck home on friday and saturday nights. i'm gonna do another round of voodoo at her at 11.00pm.

9:02 PM

disenchanted neo-reality

(Thursday, September 22, 2005)

listening to: God of Wine

warning: uninteresting working life content. view at own risk.

i repent mostly for the letting unworthy temptation of speed held me hostage today. once i took a bite on the bait, it permeates an accummulation of indisposable clock into my whole journey. technically, i didn't feel contented because i was back in the office ''too early too soon''. once i reach the office, i was caught in a shadow of provocative holocaustic marathon of unresolved issues. how i wish i didn't return to the office

the only silver lining of the day was minutes of telephone conversation with a fellow female business associate with the nicest accent and a sexy appealing voice which refused to return our well deserved money. ironically, after 2 minutes, i lost my temper and shouted at her at the most polite manner ever and then had to apologise 'because it's not really her fault'' (note to self: she might be hot), soon after, i forgot and uncharacteristically profaned at her. (note to self again: she might not, so fuck all) in the bloody hell end, we agreed that we have to meet up for a business lunch date next week to square up our misunderstanding. conclusion: if she doesn't look one bit nicole kidman, i fucking swear i'ma fucking slain her ass. it she's not hot, it's back to business.

8:54 PM

back.

(Wednesday, September 21, 2005)

Quick Quiz:
what's sexier than tight black leather vampire chick with explosive weapon and a brit accent?
absofuckinglutely nothing and nothing at all.

hoomuthafuckingrayyyy...there's actually a sequel to Underworld. don't you just love vampires movies?

a new neil gaiman's book, anansi boys is out. i just bought it, along with chuck palahniuk's lullaby.

i can't believe there was so fucking many muthafucking cars at 1fuckingUtama just now. for fuck's sake, it's only a fucking wednesday, wedfuckingnesday, dammit! all movies are half price but the crowd was way over the fucking top. don't these groupies have anything better to do on a wednesday night like have play chess at home or gangrape their dogs?

gave the usual 1U-based zoe and joyce a buzz to probe whether the rumour about a bus of blonde playmates took the wrong turn into 1U and accidentally the wind was so strong it blew off all their tops is a fact. to my utmost disappointment, jusco is having a membership sales day. all out for the desperate housewives. everything goes dirt cheap. buy one free twentysomethingfuckingthousand promotion or something like that.

it took 15 minutes to segregate myself from the common aggressive elder jusco shoppers. since when did we pamper a culture that when there's major sale, there's an obligation to go through all the unnecessary boundaries and breach the credit card limit? new motto for the shopaholic civilians, 'sale is good, default price is shitfuckcocksuckingmuthafucker!'.

here's an example on how normal people react to promotional periods:
husband: muthafuckingpuki, why the fuck did you buy half the jusco home, cibaiiiiii pundek sohai tiu-niame sei lo, hai lat, hamkaling lo...!!!
wife: there's a sale darling, everything is cheap.
husband: oh, wow. i love you. let's make love to celebrate!
wife: :)~

oh yeah, that's how shallow we can be. i guess if confucious and yoda was still alive, they'd be gullible and be sprinting there as well. probably kick a few competitor shoppers along the way. we sometimes void our wisdom for an hour of uneloquent contentment. fuck all.

10:15 PM

tsk. get the fuck off my fucking back. tsk...

(Tuesday, September 20, 2005)

right. where should i fucking start.

oh. yeah. my brother got unofficially married yesterday, actually it's official in the legal term but not to my parents. you see, the parents thinks that if you're not married by culture, like, you know, all those loud ass ching-chong gathering with some form of door breaking to get to the bride, a significant amount of bad singing and intollerable yelling of all sorts (like yamm seng and shouting your son's name with a spice of profanity) and lots of people trying to hit you with a shot of BRANDY (yuck!!!) because you're the married couple's relative or not, who cares, they just wanna get wasted. yes, that is more like a wedding to my parents. if it's quiet and legal, na-ah, nope, it's not a real wedding. yeah, i'm black and i'm from a typical chinese family. complicated.

because everyone's so busy with the wedding, no family member of mine could spare some inconvinience to replenish the big financial gap in the phone bill, the telephone company acted as what i would say decided to be untactful and disregard my supreme urgency to make calls and utilise the internet and shamelessly cut of my phone line since i-don't-fucking-care-when, shame on them. but the internet was still conviniently accessible. two cheers for my ISP for fucking their mother company in the ass. to cut the long story short, they soon found out i was roughing them in the ass and took away my internet connection as well. they're just in rotten mood.

and i managed to leave my phone in the office. and i didn't have any access cash to pump petrol. and i ran out of books to read.

the rumour that if one take away my modern communication privilege i'll panic and run around in circles blabbing reverse chorus of britney spears tunes is nonetheless true. fortunately i found the cure before my sanity was imperialise by the ungodly disturbance; live concert performances. yeah, the saviour was incubus, coldplay, dda, eits, mogwai, rchp and the whole bundle of them fuckers. they were magical, they worked but not really. well, it kept my mind of the handful of domestic fuck-ups a little.

this morning, they handed the over the new house to me as well. the keys they gave me was larger than t-rex scrotum. which was unroutinely followed by a induction for the house. yes, induction, for a house. last time someone gave me an induction about something was when i went to get my car. from my point of view, unless the house is somewhat alive like Rose Red, it is necessary to lead an introduction programme? sunway people are paranoid i suppose. there's more documents regarding the house that i need to settle before we can move in. oh, THERE'S EVEN A GUIDEBOOK FOR THE NEW HOUSE. hell if i know what to do with it. all the material specifications are there.

all the showerheads are provided seperately so it won't be stolen. i wonder who the fuck steals showerheads. must be fucked up in the head to be so ruthless and take a bloody showerhead.

while trying to clear off my workload in the office today, Johnny fed us with live commentary on his wife's labour progress. all the way from the moment his wife went into the ward at 11am till the baby is born at about 4plus. yup, so the little rascal to be is out. girl. she gonna fucking call me 'uncle' when she knows how to speak. fuck. and i'm gonna teach her how to say fuck when she knows how to speak. there's an advantage if you start young, believe me.

[update]
the baby is out but i can't go over and see her cause sue is worried that i might strangle her right there and then. nooo...i'm not allow to go. dad's got some weird superstition about this. don't ask me what. i don't fucking know
[/update]

and it rained like a bitch yesterday. right when i was out trying to persuade the bank officer to remit a million bucks into my bank account and we'll split it to two. ok, i just said this so i can publish a photo. sue me. fuck off.

my image host, Ripway is acting up on me. some bloke reloaded my site 50 times today. he must think i'm the shit and if he reloads, frequent enough, i'll update. well, in the end, i did update indeed.

1:54 PM

diarrhea of a collective subdued morning frustration

(Monday, September 19, 2005)

james iha and brain welch's work of art can boot away the morning monday sickness faster than road runner (you know, that fucking ~~turkey~~bird that goes bleep bleep, then sped away, leaving the coyote in a smoke of sand in looney toons shows?) equipped with an performance enhancing drugs and ACME speed boosters.

well of course there's a downside to it. i can't muthafucking get diary of a madman's studio version anywhere. the perfect circle version. that just weld me back into the morning depression booth yet again. fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck all, i'm going back to sleep since i'm not in the the loser-depressed-dumbass-no life working class group today. short break will do me good so they say.

7:32 AM

delicate

(Sunday, September 18, 2005)

Didn't want you to see all the things i saw
But you must have seen just as much & probably even more
Because i couldn't protect you from me
And you saw things no child should ever need to see
Because i couldn't protect you from me
And you're too young to be so old
And I'm too damn old to be so immature
But we're just the same in so many ways
So damn self assured yet so completely insecure

3:20 PM

thirst

(Thursday, September 15, 2005)

i'm out of fictional reads again.

i'd love to have this book.

Note to self: bring kimberly out for another round of book shopping.

11:38 PM

overated propaganda unleashed and braced.

(Tuesday, September 13, 2005)

please do not go on if you love kids at any rate. absurd nepotism against kids is apprehended in this post. and yes, i have deteriorated moral values because i think kids are fucking rascals.

when batman distastefully invested an unsubstanciate amount of money to build a fucking bat-mobile to look cool it had become a neo-society culture which tormented me into a parallel effort in a life risking saga to procure a ~~little shit's mobile~~ baby stroller for sue's unborn infant. teoh who generally hate all sorts of living thing except chicks and dogs kindly offered to accompany me to eloquently yield away the 'smartie ass who knocked up someone's 14 years old twin daughters look'. (little fucks = generally all kids)

liew: oi dinner!
teoh: cool, where?
liew: 1U, i know the food sucks but i need to get some little fuck's cart. friend is giving birth.
teoh: eh...what did you say again...(a very very long pause)...ohhhhh, little fuck's cart. why...nevermind.
liew: don't tell me you love kids now.
teoh: cool, shopping for little fuck's cart, count me in, how fun. 'hi, can i'm looking for a little fuck's cart!', wonder how they'll look at you.
liew: uhhhh...they'll just crucify me with their disgusted glare.

there were all sorts of baby strollers. there were detachable, fireproof (for smoking parents), and some peculiar types, which we don't know what the fuck for. why the fuck in the world would anyone be bizzare enough to buy fireproof baby trolley? maybe osama bin laden needs it to accomodate and chalet his weapons of mass destruction or rather the US needs it for the war in iraq to dodge bullets? at one point, we saw one cart that was a little shy from 1k. yesterday i thought those bloody carts is like 80 bucks each.

soon after, we're profoundly classify the baby strollers with terms like, 21" O.Z alloy rims, ABS brakes, recaro cushion, sky window, aluminium acceleration paddles, shock absorber, alongside with a big as elephant 'hint' of profanities while exchanging blows of inaccurate assumptions. most certainly we didn't show even an abstract alibi of being a parent at all. the poor sales assistant looked at us like we were gonna give him a punch-grab-and-run promotion.

come to think of it, i think the whole baby business if a big fucking rip-off. unlucky schmuck dads who work day and night to religiously shower cash into the big endless pit of baby products. personally, i doubt that 80bucks stroller and 1k stroller will contribute much into the growth of the baby. it'll just make the spastic looking parents look a little more socially and financially indulged. appearance matters so they say. practicality comes after that.

anyway, having avant-garde accessories doesn't make any baby potentially less annoying. they're still giving everyone a crude shove up the ass. and there's nothing they're more efficient at.

conclusion: kids are rascals. period.

10:34 PM

wanker guildline for traffic users

(Monday, September 12, 2005)

wankers are:
1. people who road hogs the fast lane, thinking going a little shy on the speed limit is proper. fuck you la. (lost wankers.)
2. losers that can't seem to make up their mind on which lane to go. fuck you. (confused wankers)
3. morons that thinks tailgating is the shit. pfttt...unless you have a mustang GT dahling, else, go and fuck the hell off. (annoying wankers)
4. my wanker supervisor who thinks murderous driving attempts is cute. or cool. and Jonathan too. (deadly wankers)
5. all reckless female drivers. (sexy wankers)
6. all reckless indian drivers. (plain wankers)
7. dudes with huge loud-ass noisy mufflers and zero performance. (schmuck wankers)
8. kancil drivers going 140km/h (fast wankers)
9. motorcycles going 90km/h on the fast lane thinking he the shit. almost kill that cunt. (brave wankers)
10. coppers on the speed trap. (fuck'o wankers)
11. coppers that doesn't take bribe. (honest and strange wankers)
12. 3 litres or more cars owners (cool wankers)
13. all muthafucking singaporean drives. ALL. (arrogant but chicken shit wankers)

will update if i can think of more.

10:00 PM

experimental playgound.

(Sunday, September 11, 2005)

~~important~~necessity equipment

1. kelvar
2. gas mask
3. ~~rubber~~ canvas gloves
4. crash test dummy.
5. non-stop 2pac tracks
6. fire extinguisher
7. cell phone with an emergency number speed dial.
8. special ops units and firemen to standby.

those are my pre-kitchen inventory

in a silly quest to break the symmetrical routine of the long relaxing uneventful weekend, i finally brave myself into the kithen today. simply because i think mom's birthday is around the corner but i can't really fucking remember the date and yes, every bit of me deserved to be crucified over and over again. or roasted like a hot dog. (don't fucking ask me why, roasted like a hot dog seems to fit description properly anyway, at that moment)

feeling guilty as hell is one thing, but survival is another. so at this crucial moment, avoiding any form of disconcerting homocidal attempt from the women who brought me into the world is fucking important. actually, the homocidal part and all that crying and yelling is best kept intact. actually again, mom wouldn't mind, cause i never had remember her birthday but i think i should at least do something to royally indicate that i might remember.

anyway, the whole thing about cooking is cooking and the washing up. basically, i have absolutely no problem with pulling a harry houdini with the food. a normal person would spend about 45 minutes cooking a decent meal (instact noddle is not a decent meal, mind you.) and another 30 minutes cleaning up and all it takes is 10 minutes to gulp everything down the throat. i clearly don't see the need of preparing your own meal when you can drive out for food where food is pre-fabricated. fuck all, cooking is a burden that people love.

1:47 PM

brainteaser

(Thursday, September 08, 2005)

10:46 PM

Katrina ala ghetto.

(Tuesday, September 06, 2005)

that jabroni Ge-Bee (george bush) thought we'd (the black homies) be tappin' toes when Katrina hits New Orle.

punk ass bitch was barking at us, saying they gonn' roll in some aid and benjamins for me and ma' niggas. but he didn't do shit cause we're the dirt to the whites. Ge-Bee didn't keep it real. he thought we'd be trippin' if they hold us aid back a little but we wus soldjah, cause we've been riding in the hood long before that punk ass storm. well, BRING IT! you ain't see the best of us yet.

we chillin' and partayin' while the white wus weepin' them candy ass out. they better recognize, we nigga's we wus ballin' till feds and the birds filled the streets. ain't no crib rippin' rain and faulty government is gonna bring us down. we still frontin' like my homies in west LBC, drinking kristal and going down with shorty right herr.

it's just not right that niggas don't get equal treatment from the peoples when a disaster hits us. we ain't complaining though, we don't feel love. word.

p/s - why isn't New Orleans getting any help from their neighbour state? fuck racism, it's all around us, we just refuse to acknowledge it.

4:45 PM

beware, idiots around.

(Sunday, September 04, 2005)

there's a reason why Guniness Book of Records doesn't have a record for stupidity cause there's no telling how low stupidity can go. people will can outshine themselves when it comes to stupidity every 60 seconds. there's a new low every minute. example: blondes. but we still love them, don't we?

so this intellectually-challanged cuntface smashed onto my car which we're heading out for the cremation after the funeral. turns out that i wasn't even moving when cuntface bumped onto my car. what the hell was that? how in the world he did manage that avant-garde stunt? and he's the relative of my deceased. lucky fuck.

no thanks to him, i've manage to maintain accident statistics for this year. after much evalutation, i can't hope for any new car at all due to my reckless driving. or other people's reckless driving. like it's my fucking fault that i'm always within the intellectually-challanged individuals perimeter.

9:54 PM

acrimony.

(Saturday, September 03, 2005)

Janenette, a friend that i've known since i was 5, told us that her father passed away last night after a long heroic tormenting month-long battle with brain cancer. he was a good photographer (he won the malaysia photographer of the year award.) and a even better husband and father. i should say, a man couldn't be any better than him. may he rest in peace.

therefore, the colour of the blog will remain grey for another while. it's the only thing i could do for a great person he's been. and i mean it.

***

we're absolutely hopeless and helpless when it comes to dealing with deaths. some people thinks that it's a good way to show concern and respect. the dead sometimes tie the bond between the livings. eccentricity might fit the explain the behaviour. just cast all vengence and dilute our hate for a second there to pay the final respect to the dead. probably because the dead is lying cold in the casket not able to retaliate for one last battle. or just for nostalgic sake.

say george w. bush jr. now he's stupid self-centered prick with and the laughing stock of the world. but the moment he dies, he's a righteous neo-world vigilante with a distinctive sense of humour or someone will generate a myth regardless of what sort of a pimp he's been? and if you call him a fucking dumb prick, you're a pompous cavalier cold blooded heartless dick. because he's dead, he's no longer a dumb prick? what the fuck is that, i mean, we should give him a break because he's dead?

the logic is; it's all good when you're dead. even if it's not.

i think if you've been a bitch, you'll always be a bitch, dead or alive. being dead doesn't mean all of a sudden you're the highlight feature in the world nicest men.

2:24 PM