celestial anarchy programme.
(Monday, February 27, 2006)
i had a long week.
i'm so tired, if you put me on a bed and ask a japanese pornstar to blow me, i'll fall asleep. more accurately, i'll fall asleep before she even get to where i am. that's how tired i am.
it was all about travelling last week.
first on monday i was in kl, then i was in Penang and Kedah on tuesday, back to KL on wednesday and Taiping on thursday. then on friday, i was practically fried.
G left for australia back on friday so i went to see her off followed by tutoring some driving lesson which somehow lead me to a house party.
here's briefly what the party was about:
there's a weird chinese boy with a huge ass bag who thinks he's black and still does.
there was a malaysian eurasian girl who thinks she's deutsche and wants to stay in NY/German and got a whole fucking basement of whiskey.
there's an grumpy indian boy that talks black and has a tad more hair than normal human being.
there was a drunk
friendly malay girl who loves french men and thinks she's a mexican.
there was some cool dude who's really fucking funny but talks in a monotonous tone.
there was that singh that loves liqour so much, i've never seen anything that like that before. actually, i have. period.
there was the mexican's boyfriend who loves indian boys, for real.
there's a bunch of cool boys who hogs the barbeque pit and the not-so-cool boys has to drink liqour as substitute for food and they have to punch each other when the food arrives. which is pretty much a great news, except that they haven't got enough to drink.
there was these few hot quiet malay chicks.
there was a fucking gargatuan (yes, if you must ask, it's HUGE) house with a lake and pool.
there was this loud house music which was fucking good but no one was drunk enough to start prancing around.
and last but not least, there was the lucky pimp who got a blowjob in the living room.
other than that, it was pretty much like any other party i've been to.
then i had to go to the first leg of Ngai Hoe's wedding in Sepang, Fei Lee's hometown, on the very next day. man, was i fucking exhausted or was i fucking exhausted. but it's all good, really, cause anywhere with some food is always fun. did i mention we have to go 50plus rounds of 'Yammmmm Seng' (cheers!) to express our gratitute to the guests. i had to drive so i didn't have more than 5 drops of alcohol but at the end of the day, i lost my voice anyways.
finally, on sunday, i was nailed for fatal exhaustion. too tired to speak or to move a finger. even barney the annoying dinasour couldn't scare me out of my bed.
happily ever after/the rising storm
(Friday, February 17, 2006)
we all have tangible tendencies to love and to adore. if formed differently in an uncareful set of words, to worship. and to define love as a faculty of passionate feelings from one person to another is just fucking disgusting. shallow. (neither does the thought of wanting to fuck anybody, somebody, everybody thrust into a barrier of love district)
a docile dosage of
this, an you'll know why i have deep affection for it.
***
i have some engagement dinner thing going on tonight with a couple of buddies. actually, very very significant individuals which unintentionally spilled colour into my very dull life (with a drop a alcohol and a mile of good chat). it's sort of like an engagement party, but not really. because the person that's getting engaged doesn't want it to be like one, or perhaps, try to make it like one but with a spice of critical mutual dinner. politically correct reasons aside, we all fucking know what it's all about, though if asked to depict the reasons, we will hardly be able to justify or blow the a big hole into the engagement-peeping-dinner-situation.
social function masquerades aside (both steph and i agree that all social functions are an excuse to cock some alcohol into our digestion system), it's an engagement party. basically, that's the 3rd of my critical friend's who's about to face lifetime commitment and it won't just stop there. though marrying and children hardly makes it to the tea* category (*refer -
my cup of tea, haha, lame joke, ok forget it...get over it dammit), i'm happy for her, yet at the same fucking time makes me wonder if the prophecy of monogamous happily ever after institution actually rock as much as it sounds. (awwww, come on, get real, monogamous - for men?)
ironically, all my closer friends submerge the fact that i'all be the last one to get married, if ever. specifically, jon thought (out loud), that if i were to be somebody's best man on a wedding, i'll fucking talk him out of it and we'll run away to vegas and spend all our money on fiery sexy strippers. and the reason i attend the dinner comes from my undying affection for alcohol. fuck yeah. my other friend thinks that my biggest commitment that i've made in life were to get a cat (correction - my dad got the car, not me)
my constitution lack faith in the built of marriage but i do not ever (ok...maybe hardly) conclude that it doesn't work for anyone else. my reasons due to because everyone's getting married for the heck of it or to fucking go with the herd. here's an example: (in reference to nobody in particular)
Q: why do you wanna get married?A: because i love him...(resume continuity of a chorus in the thesaurus for the word very)Q: and you can't fucking love him if you're not married?A: ...and i want to have children too (here, the facial expression to aim for confusion and aggravation)A: ...Q: is it because everyone's doing it?Q: ...at the end of the Q&A session, someone's going to occur really dodgy. because 'i love you's and everyone's doing it is not solid enough for a reason to me. maybe 'i want the gathering of wedding dinnner money to sponsor my trip to paris' could work very properly. any other than what was written above is ideal. somehow it works for most people and they do live happily (minus the part where the husband comes home drunk or the wife announces her pregnancy) ever after. they really would. with enough patience, affection and effort.
i rest my case.
p/s - trying to strangle your spouse with some disagreement won't square things out.
drugs for the hypersensitive disloyal fat bandmember
(Wednesday, February 15, 2006)
city centre. local bar. the girl's expression is best described as chaos. every single petite form of facial signs carved meticulously throughout her better years in life was significantly absent yesternight. her single deadly glance can unroot a fucking tree, make it sprint almost unorthodoxy and jump into a sea for cover. and she turned that ultimate deadly 'liquid nitrogen' glance right to her boyfriend's eye. he, on the other hand, felt rather hungry and irritated by her hostile look. the simple fucking fact that he forgot to make plans were elusive to his sense of logic. actually, he's just plain fucking stupid.
uptown. restaurant. 3 more couples and it's their turn to evade the long queue. at last. she's shivering from the cold wind. bored, and tired from standing. 'at least he's around', she thought. he's never have more guilt in his life, ever. even with her passive allowance of anger. he should have that, or he should have there, but not here. the blame lies nowhere but on himself. actually, he's plain fucking stupid too.
on the way to town. car. unexplainable clogging of traffic (actually, it was explainable, the fucking rain you see...) raised the tension and further frustration. in the emotional tight ambience, he was secretly hoping for a sexual oral pleasure. she was secretly horny too, because she was about to cap a round of .38 revolver into his guilty as hell ass. he's about to feel fucking stupid in a matter of seconds.
downtown. apartment. while watching porn, he was worried about her abstinence act on the noon. the notion of hope transform into a solemnity. jerking off doesn't change a thing but he single-mindedly tells himself it'll cures his sore heart. for the 5th time.
downtown. terrace. someone is fucking crying at the corner of the room and it was no other than her. oh well, she could cry a fucking river but he bloody well won't notice her. there was no if only. the cunt just won't fucking notice her existance. period. she slits her wrist so profusely the rush pain almost feels ecstatic.
somewhere. room. she had the most memorable orgasm of her life, which was pleasantly followed by his peak of arousement. bing bang boom, they cuddle each other lovingly and dream the night away.
that's not just valentine's day. it might as well be everyday. but we thought valentine's day is diverse. we thought things diversly, no?
homemade jar of mermaid extract
(Thursday, February 09, 2006)
supposedly if i were to mention that i updated my photoblog, i wonder if anyone would go and get an eyeful of my pathetic photograhpy indulgence?
would it help if i were to put a link
here?
holy fuck, go and have a look for fuck's sake.
***
'i am definately gonna get something, but i don't know what', i noted to the gay sales assistant that was kind enough to summon me with his unruptured attention. 'so if you could please help me here, i'll get my shit and fuck off in no time'.
shit, was i too straight with that muthafucker? he'll probably clutch his foremost concentration to whatever i touch. i'm the fucking Midas now. it's MY moment, everything i touch is potentially a fraction of his salary next month! he just looked at me quirkily and walked to the corny couple wearing mambo t-shirts.
Mahai!!! the lad had matching camouflage shoes and baggy jeans, the perfect reason for that son of a bitch sales dude to dump me for him. after all, i am only wearing my limited edition black Forest shorts (limited edition: it's something from stone-age, so it's obsolete), a discreet white tee with a dodgy dark brown monk's-bag lookalike which is also a prominent haute couture limited edition like my shorts which my dad kindly procured from China.
yes, indeed the sales attendant did fuck off for someone with razor sharp hairstyle and matching pants-footwear garments. the abstinence was brute act, i'd say. but i couldn't give a fuck all cause my sole intention was to secure a bag for gabrielle.
for the injustice i was done for, a slight (actually, it was a prime) thought occured in my dear head that it is only fair if i grab the bag then make run for it. without wasting time, i took the bag, sling it over my shoulder gracefully (the wind was blowing the hair all over my face) and aligned my feet, charging it with force for the survival sprint. it felt almost kinky.
no wonder winona ryder has this gruesome affection for larceny.as i was about to thunder away, a petite clutch held the fucking sling of the bag. the female counterpart of the sales assistant offered a hand to assist me on my 'sling-and-run-bag-promotion'. not only that, she has also yadda yadaa blah blah yadda bleep blah yadda.
to cut the long story short, she was being a helpful bitch and the former sales attendant's kawaii looking customers couldn't be fucked to get anything so he just rooted there like a helpless scarecrow, glazing at the cheeky little sparrows tearing into the grains under his santuary. in the end, without further doubt, she sealed the sale with a big smile on her face. disgraceful look publish on the faggot's expression made me feel victorious.pardon my extremity in naiveness, but the last time i went to apply for a sales assistance, here are a few requirements:
- Minimum SPM/SRP/PMR/
- Good spoken English/Bahasa Malaysia. Preferably mandarin/chinese dialects.
- Friendly personality (
if you have one)- Able to work long hours
- Dedicated
but hey, what a suprise, they've never mentioned fucking good judgement skills. or even bias personnels welcomed.
round ticket to prague.
(Monday, February 06, 2006)
...and there ain't no war in my head now...you seem very beautiful to meso the bloody long holiday is over. fucking over. the end. the fucking credits are rolling. tsk tsk. well, don't be jealous, i'm going to prague for a vacation next month courtesy of all the money i bagged from genting, 4D, friends etc. prague baby! the very city where they filmed the movie triple x. and some other significant movies. alright, i'm not THAT fucking shallow, there's more to it than that...well, let me see, i think they filmed james bond there too. praque is actually this mysterious little town where all the terrorist in the world plan their evil scheme.
right...i didn't win enough for prague. but i would love to go there. fuck paris. (not hilton heir, paris, but paris the city, paris)
anyway, there goes the chinese new year and the latest topic of conversation now is the valentine's day. V-day. all my mates were going like,
what are you gonna do on V-day? or
what are you gonna buy him/her for V-day? all those questions make me sweat like an american horse on a field day to attack the red indians. is it ever necessary to EVER brace a modern coperate sales boosting strategy to get something for
that special someone whom claim you love so gracefully? how different is giving presents on valentine's day than any other day, say last sunday?
because...it's where everyone show their appreciation to the love of their life? like muthafucking mother's/father's day as well, this friend of mine, Dopey (not his real name) has no intention and commitment whatsoever to spend any concrete moment of his wealthy social life with his family but he goes for dinner with them on that particular day. well, i think he deserves to be fucked ass up by bunch of hungry gay elephants. just because the cunt thought it's reasonable to spend more time with them on that day and the rest of the year, he treats them like his african american slaves. (i can't use the phrase 'nigga' cause it's politically incorrect so it seems)
so this whole big fucking hype about some whatever muthafucking day could earn the truthful merits as much as the fact O.J is innocent or Alexander the great is straight. or Britney Spears or Jessica Simpson were virgins. or George Bush is actually not very stupid. period. i say, no more dramas. do whatever you want whenever youb fucking want. but for the record, on diplomatic basis, there is need to do something on V-day. but it's still really fucking silly to go and line up with another 20,000 couples for a table at any decent restaurant.
there is an alternative. thinking outside the box crap. cook. make sure you make reservation for two beds in hospital for food poisoning cause i believe some fucking moron would thought about the same thing too. as for the fire department, it's not a urban legend that they double their manpower on febuary 14th.
have a nice day, st valentine. thank you for all the trouble.
they don't really want it this way.
(Friday, February 03, 2006)
chinese new year is here and gone in a blink of an eye. i wish everyday is chinese muthafucking new year. so i get more holidays. and i get to drink wine everyday. and smoke some cuban. fuck all, i just want a long vacation that's all.
i'm actually at G's house in malacca now, replenishing my sleep and getting way wasted at the same time. G's got the best house to sleep in. whatever sleep i don't really get normally, it's fulfilled at G's place in a day, like i get to sleep at leat 10 hours a day here. it's quiet as library, more comfortable than a fuckload of topless thai massages.
not to mention i just had the best night i've had since the fucking place formerly known as 1957 before it was fucking closed down. live acoustic fanfuckingtastic music, unlimited wine, cuban cigar, fucking great friends, lovely delicious pasta and holiday. reminds me of the session in 1957 with zoe and the magarita pizzas. and jack daniels. if that's not life, having threesome with kate beckinsale and adriana lima isn't too.
i bagged a sufficient amount of dough from the malacca folks from the gambling session last night. actually i was trying to lose away all the money i got but i just kept on winning and winning and winning. so much for trying. the effort was uneloquent. gambling's not really my shit. some rotten idiot is paying for all the money you bagged from it. what's the point - nobody's happy, eh?
p/s - i still haven't got any form of internet connection at home yet. i wish telco will look into it. i also wish that porsche is 60k in our currency. and kate beckinsale would hump me silly before my birthday.
