nearly.
(Thursday, December 29, 2005)if year 2005 is a movie, we're almost at the end, the part where the end credits roll down, the dim lights brightening, attempting to usher people out of the cinema, curtains drawing to a close, and the crowd rushes and pushes through undersized cinema exit.
then the people talk, not about how tight the cinema exit was though or whose butt they pinched in the claustraphobic tunnel, but rather about how was the movie. comments. the words that determine either the movie was victorious enough to catch the attention of upcoming viewers. bad, good, or ugly, nevertheless, there will never be lacking in comments.
horror movie of the year award.
when john thinks i've had the worse date ever and i can't top that, not so long after that with a little luck i gained, i went out with an infamous misplaced mental ward patient. well, i suspected something was wrong, and i wasn't really sure until she pulled a monologue right when i was having a drink with her, followed by an award-winning crude hostile smile to herself which nabbed the most horrific moment of my pathetic life.
never called her ever since. but once, i stumble upon her in a mall and instantly i ran as fast before i could register a thought in my head. i must say, if they shuffled me with olympic sprinters in a same track, i might out-run them. that i'm sure.
moment of my year.
have a good year ahead.
xx & xy
(Tuesday, December 27, 2005)'she's getting married soon...'
that statement hooked my feet off the ground. a childhood friend for 17 years is about to tie the knot. why am i not happy? correct me if i'm wrong, agree to marry someone that you know for 4 months isn't really my ideal concept for marriage. the constitution of marriage is too weak to justify anything these days anyway. divorces. pre-nuptial. deformed family values.
it's not the first fact that perturbed my jolly life. women are born the marrying kind. but it's the men that asked for the marriage i can't take. not only that, there's men crying over their ex-girlfriends because he can't get over her, men telling me how much they want to have kids. men that get angry over petty miniscule incidents, men plagued by pms, men calling other men names because of their sense of insecurity. what is happening?
don't get me wrong, i strongly believe men and women are equal. however, there are some values that only exist in the xx cromosome and certain qualites that could only be found on the xy. an unnamed compatibility that strikes a balance between both sexes, so one can fill the vacant for the other. miraculously, the women have no problem upholding their share, but the men had compelled in their tangent value discrepancy, converting into a disconcerting social redundancy. no wonder the lesbians are doing so good nowadays.
junk establishment
(Sunday, December 25, 2005)
check out my room.
look at the fucking mess. it looks like that after i cleaned it. for 2 hours.
i'm moving to a new place very soon.
we, humans tend to bury things in our room. things with sentimental values. unworthy things. mainly obtained as repugnant gifts then it severely clogs up spaces in our room. going through old stuff is like going on an adventure in jurassic park; there's no hint what you might stumble upon. decomposed letter from friends, old photos, and such. do we just love to burden ourselves with so much irrelevants which sting our emotions so eloquently? the time defying pieces reminds us that we have once had something, be it life, friends, lovers, families et cetera. an evidence of love. but we are bound to have one too many of those, and it indelibly hijacks space and pile into a moutain of emotional burden.
though, we can't just cut the pain shorter and dump it into the garbage can right after. we dwell deep into our hearts and hesitate the period which we mourn for a new present. you know, too good for the dustbin but there's no way to galvanized it for accurate suiting.
an old present, to me, is just as obscene as the rest of the junk in a recycling centre. i've never develope romance for things that doesn't apprehend substancial functions. what the fuck is an old birthday card good for? ass wipe? towel? or maybe to perpetually fulfill sexual desire? (how the fuck do i know the how the fuck can an old card turn you on?).
here's 3 basic rules on whether it should or shouldn't go down the dustbin:
1) if it doesn't hail a bus for you, throw it away!
2) if it does hail a bus for you, throw it away for flying fuck's sake!
3) if you think you might by a slightest chance might probably maybe somehow get laid for having it, you're wrong. throw it away already.
p/s: oh yeah... the fossil condoms from your 18th birthday, has expired if you haven't use it already. throw it away too. well of course, unless you want to chew.
when morons get overdoped.
(Wednesday, December 21, 2005)music of the moment: Mew's She Came Back for Christmas
holding the door for someone, not kick the fuck out little rascals that crosses path, taking photos of someone is taking a crap, going all the way to the other side of the city to meet a homie, buying simple cheap as hell presents for the fuck of it, take a great number of tequilla shots for a friend, not molesting a drunk female counterpart...
and another ga-fucking-zillion tiny gestures gibberish that people do to make someone's life better.
correct-o-fucking-mun-do. those are miniscules that that sums up to something gargatuan. the sort of buggering gibberish we know not of, but we unintentionally do to woo others around us feel myriad better. still, it is perhaps the best thing that has ever blesses a poor monotonous fucking soul because of you fucking did or did not fucking do.
which means the gesture/effort that we've achieved in life for somebody isn't because we want to do it, but rather, because we didn't know we did it. does that mean that, in foundation we're great but when we want to show people how generous a muthafucker we are, it's not emphasized on that simple uncollective fact.
fuck all, we're buncha confused wankers. or maybe i'm just confused.
[will you believe me i got so fucking wasted, i couldn't even sit but i manage to grave that shit into my head last night]
(Tuesday, December 20, 2005)
rightttt.
so what if i don't really feel like working today. as such, i devoted the whole morning fixing my photoblog. here's some math on the fixing my fucking photoblog timeline:
more than 12 weeks to have the courage to figure out what's wrong, basically, nothing went wrong, my host just altered my fucking script a little here and there and walah, it's not working like it should.
another 2 months telling myself that i'm busy with stuff (such as downloading
it took less than 5 minutes to fix it after i stumble upon's gavin's site because he's got a nice layout and mine looked frantically like a recycling centre.
and it took 1 and half hours to remember the password. which i think just fucked up cause i use that password for everything. including my atm card. (yes, feel free to mug me if you see me on the street, i'm only 5 feet and i don't know any form of matrial art (unless you consider a neverending attempt to clutch girl's tits martial art), fine jovial bloke like me never carries a stunner or pepper spray. oh, have i ever told you i wrote my atm password on the card itself? for convinience.
oh, have i told you G's back from the land down under?
grim x'mas
(Monday, December 19, 2005)if christmas is in the air, i can't fucking feel it.
so that's all folks.
just to formally indicate that i can't fucking feel no christmas aura yet. maybe cause it didn't snow in malaysia this year. not that it ever. tropical city is rotten. tropical beach rocks harder than einstein's homosexual grandmother.
rock on folks.
undelicate vulnerability.
(Friday, December 16, 2005)lately, i just can't sit down solitarily without artificial huge gigantic commotion waves of motion slamming on at the back of the head, although completely mental, makes me feel rotten being a swinging buoy in random order in the middle of atlantic ocean.
best described as 'neo'-motion sickness; one gets sick when they're static.
perhaps because i've moved around so frequently, sitting down doing nothing morphed into severe peripheral dynamic withdrawal syndrome. the mind can't help but dwell further into enquiry, how the fuck in the world can kobe beef taste so tender? of fuck, i mean how the fuck in the world can a perfectly normal kid like me suffer from psyhiatry malfunction. so what if i'm not a kid anymore, dork?
oh look, the past two fucking posts is all about my muthafucking distinctive rare diseases. it's december, when the rare disease summit takes place. come to think of it, claustrophobia in a different light. oh fuck, that's even more ridiculously interesting.
how evil can your girlfriend be?
(Wednesday, December 14, 2005)'the momentum of PRWS is hardly deadly. however, it sums up to severe cookie and milk addiction plus sadistic appreciation on fat gentlemen in red with an uncontemporary approach; to load the obese man onto a cart and run around in circles'
have i ever mentioned that near to christmas every year, my nose radiates ever so redly? it's part of the perpetual-'rudolph-the-red-nose-raindeer'-wannabe-syndrome (PRWS). a person that suffers from PRWS has a indelible tendency to walk around with more than just their legs, but also their hands, in the air. in time, they'll also form a set of distinctive horns just slightly above their ears. sooner or later, comes the unopposed temptation to wrap a chorus of kinky looking bells around themselves.
oh, they might explode in untimid exhiliration whenever the phrase 'HO! HO! HO!' rubs into the air.
or maybe an untactful zit just blew up on my nose ever so untimely?
frontin'
(Sunday, December 11, 2005)groom's my friend before i could to learn how to shit properly. the bride was sizzling hot. the disconcerting karaoke was non-existant. the loud yelling drunk chinamen didn't fulfill their routine attendance. the ballroom was pretty rotten though.
completely insipid for cliche chinese weddings.
i love the wedding i just got back from.
did i manage to cramp the part where i got bored waiting for everyone to arrive, i stole a 50 bucks magazine? no, i'm not proud of myself because i stole something. just that somehow i felt a myriad smarter.
'canker sore' - rudy
(Friday, December 09, 2005)canker sore
one of those rotten babies grew on my lower right lip.
perhaps it is sore-er than having bitten by a mad dog on your genitals.
most likely more hurtful than intergrating fresh wound with salt.
maybe the rush is more overwhelming than orgasm.
fucking hell, don't you ever wonder if angie jolie might be plagued by it? would she still look as good?
how sexy can adriana lima look with a celebrity gossip magazine while squatting on a toilet seat?
how degrading might it be if pamela anderson's artificial teeth falls off during a press conference?
bahhhh
creeping broken maimhouse
(Thursday, December 08, 2005)the costs of renovating the new place and replacing all the old furnitures for my room is extreme lunacy. everytime you approach a nice bed or a nice couch, do not look at price tag, for the feeling can be summarized as 'like your worst sex ever, multiply by 20'. yes, if that sounds familiar, i copied that from trainspotting. period. oh no...another buildup of rage-driven post by Liew again. always complaining about everything anything nothing and yadda yadda yadda. never a thankful bitch, that foresee-able Liew.
random fact #1: cinnamon is originated from borneo. (fact reliability: high, source: mun)
evidently, it's never a discreet fact that the world has an alignment of mutual conspiracy on me. come on, agree with me that coloured skin people was never embraced as part of the society.
back to the monetary crap, there's nobody to point the finger to when you are dealing with sullen financial issues. i mean, you can't really blame steve jobs for coming out with the sexy iPod nano or the lucious iBook for you to buy. or your deadly encounter with ferocious loanshark today. in the end, you made the slash; lack of discipline on lust and it backfired severely. i've completely understand how some special individuals are always on the opposite site of financial crisis. so i came out with an groundbreaking theory of money saving.
'the emergency funding activation programm(TM)'
1. prior to unwilling ancient financial inconvinience, i came out with an ingenius emergency funding activation programme™. a static fund for dynamic world momentary emergency fund.
first of all, gather all the financial resourses you own. be it blink blinks, unit trusts, stocks, anything at all. if preferably cash. perhaps if you think your grandma's vinyl is valuable, include it as well.
2. step two revolves looking for an eloquent storage device. an empty power milk can or milo can is recommended. continue with shoving everything into the storage device then unify the seal and the container in the highest order of sealant.
3. on a bright full moon night, howl like a pervert, followed dig a 4 feet hole in your front yard, garden (if you do not have access to the mention, use your creativity). throw the can inside when you're sure nobody is prying then bury the container.
4. fast forward, 4 years later - you need money to buy a poh kong gold ring for the fiancee. dig the shit up...WALAH, you've got some dough worthy shit inside. grandma's elvis presley vinyl is now priceless collector's edition asset and you've got 3k worth of decomposed cash and bank statements.
random fact #2: chewing gum gives levative effect. (fact reliability: very high, source: liew)
conclusion: giving back to the society is fun, innit?
(Monday, December 05, 2005)
BLINK BLINK
all of a sudden, 2133 mp3s occured in my pc. rock songs. not britney fucking spears. not daniel 'i is big pussy boy' bettingfield. of course not any japanese or cantonese songs. too bad there's not any gangta's rap for the black boy.
2133 mp3s, holy muthafucking cinderella with golden butt hair.
i need to try my luck with the latest lottery. 2-1-3-3. two-one-three-three. 11.6GB worth of lusting decibels.
this is where i annouce my retirement. if i listen to 1 new track a day, i have till 2010 till i need to get new songs.
back to basics.
(Sunday, December 04, 2005)under pressured circumstances, kum lai and zoe recommended that we should go and have our dinner in a mighty fine restaurant, THE SHIP (i threaten to make them girls parade around town more in their tiny little feet and they were more hungry than prinsoners hungry for chicks. believe me, do not try to fuck with desperate hungry chicks, it's more dangerous than fucking with iraqi terrorists). oh yeah, the ship was the shit. 10 years ago. okay, okay...maybe 15, god knows. mostly everyone have had those days where they managed to seize a substantial amount of A's in the previous notable exams. awwww, don't give me that little shit look, if you didn't rake any A's, don't be sorry cause you're a stupid fuck, mommy and daddy still love you atrociously so they'll drag your sorry ass along anyway. that was an accurate presumption for someone's that walked the earth on the same century i did. going to THE SHIP was cool.
fast forward to the 21st century, THE SHIP still stands strong, hustle through the era while most of their competitors are significant dish washer for the food and beverages industry. alright, whatever, we went into THE SHIP, it was dark and dodgy. there lives the aura where most nightclubs with elderly horny man gets hooked up with hideous GRO own. ain't that some cool shit!!!
dayyyyyymn, muthafucka! it wasn't like that at that time*. breath-o! concentrate-o!!! dayyyyymn!
i disengage the rotten aura trauma and we went ahead by ordering 2 main courses instead of 3 cause the girls wanted to share. we had only poultry cause i was downright penniless and kum lai digs only chicken. women. tsk. 1 maryland chicken and 1 russian chicken, or more commonly phrased as le chicky-on with bodka (russians make it sound like bodka, hahaha). figured that it can't get THAT bad with alcohol since the only wrong that alcohol can do to me are hangovers and jumping across the table for the contact of the most fucking ugly girl in the group.
funny thing is, they only gave us 2 pieces of bread and butter. BECAUSE WE'RE ONLY HAVE 2 MAIN COURSES. the other moron that didn't order must go and thrust herself on the backside with the bread if she wants one. mutual silence fill the air cause we ain't want to bread and butter up no cinderalla's ass. shut the fuck up, eat and fuck off, shut the fuck up eat and fuck off, shut the fucking hell up and eat and fuck off...
the food emerge from the thick dark miasma. basically out of nowhere. so much for the ancitipation of looking at the arrival. not that i care, really. the russian chicken was grilled chicken steak topped with cream sauce and mixed vegetable. no fair sign of alcohol exist. i gave it a fuck all and dug into the thick albino cream, maimed, slain, whatever the chicken and shove a piece into my mouth.
jesus! can you believe it, i actually said jesus?
man, it was like having fried chicken dipped into a mug a vodka. with some green peas. superb eh! now, deform the fact it's absolute vodka or any other premier vodka. switch it into any 20 bucks made in tanjung malim vodka. yes, i did not know we have russians in tanjung malim too. it taste foul dammit. technically worse than curry made by japanese. what the fuck.
however, zoe and kum lai thinks that the marypoppins chicken in edible. they've got fried banana you know...
then on the way back to my car, some man mistaken kum lai for her wife on a traffic light and profusely molested her arm for a good few seconds. hahaha.
some day we had there.
*it was brighter, i think. how the fuck is anyone gonna find their food if it parachutes under the table?
***
Photos from the previous week.
french trench
(Friday, December 02, 2005)bored as hell
no tale to tell.
the eye hurts again. left eye, not the right eye. the right eye can do that eyebrow thing, though not really much, just enough for an awkward dosage.
an earthquake shooked into local blogging scene. most bloggers are showing their concern on the freedom of speech issue after one of the prominent blogger bloke was attacked by the government because of extra curicular issues. i think the law keepers didn't shove him into drug rehab centre cause they got nothing on his ass. hell, what do i know.
this is a delayed response but i'm proud to announce that we on the same level as the muthafucking abu ghaib prison torment system. us malaysian cops are brute too, ain't we the shit now. a new height in stupidity has also been achieved. a stupid wanker copper has the nerve to record that whole drama and share it among his friends. soft porn. ear squatting are sexier than paris hilton, kinkier than orgy, spicier than s&m, you know what i mean.
anyway, i also got cheated into watching the new harry potter. cute young asian chick as harry's new love interest, whoa, i won't miss it for a pamela anderson and nicole kidman threesome. call me a hypocrite, i've come to the conclusion that harry 'future wizard god' potter definately has less interest in her than his morning doughnut. only 5 scenes and less than 5 lines of scripts in the whole 2 1/2 hours saga? do your math. i totally dig what harry has in his head. she only looks good for a good 2 seconds, then it all starts falling apart.
au revoir, xxx
