say no to violence.
(Friday, April 28, 2006)
when i came home last night, i saw fei lee, my sister in law, which is pregnant (yes yes, you're probably prancing about your own space like a fucking toad or kangaroo on a frying pan because i'm about to be an uncle. don't worry, i still hate kids as much. please, get a grip of yourself), reading a neil gaiman book. MY NEIL GAIMAN's CORALINE (it's spelled coraline, not caroline) to be specific. i gave her a what the fuck look.
"Yo, what are you reading?"
"A book?"
"Neil Gaiman? You can't fucking read Neil Gaiman!!!"
"Why?"
i was like thinking, "dude, why the hell must you ask why?"
i don't fucking know why. i do not even know why einstein has fucking weird hair or why indonesians have funny accents. i'm sure as hell not the oracle as much as i am this big retangular super computer where you go to whenever you need to fucking know the secret of life. i have for you, the secret of life is, eat more greens, for fuck's sake.
anyway, so, it's just totally wrong for my brother's unborn child to read these kind of shit. not that i'm implementing neil gaiman's work is shit. just that it's not right. like it's not right to take your poo and drink beer at the same time or it's not right to overdose your girlfriend with laxatives or use Imperial March ringtone for your dad. there's no specific justification for what's right or what's not, but somethings are wrong and you can't really depict it in words solemnly.
don't get me wrong, i hate kids rottenly with passion but i have a thing for pregnant women. i think have this weird idea in my head that pregnant women is in their the most beautiful state in their entire life. just for that divine 9 months of pregnancy. bringing life into the world could perhaps be defined as the ultimate act nobility. (which, then the life turns out to be some loud yelling pain in the ass which coherently murder you slowly but painfully with their unpropotioned sense or logic and beyond par annoyance.)
all that i was trying to indicate is, pregnant people deserve the grandeur of not having any sort of obscene distress in their life. for example, pregnant people should not watch a clockwork orange, instead, national geographic channel. like watching leopards and tigers and elephants. oh fuck all, it's got a impressive number of vulgar scenes too. i think they should just read children's book and listen to mozart then.
look at it this way, it's for the bigger picture...aye?
what you gonna do?
(Thursday, April 27, 2006)
superb. i can post from my phone. whatever rubbish i see or thought is entitled for instant recording. fuck yeah.
yoh...WHY!
(Saturday, April 22, 2006)
the blogger.com has banned me from accessing their website. yesterday i sat in the office for 4 hours trying to log into the site but it proved more difficult than having threesome with kate beckinsale and pamela anderson. kate is brunette, pamela is blone. all that jazz, you get the point.
due to incomprehensible internet access, there's basically nothing to do at home. i go out. i go to see friend, i go and take photos of my friends, i go and eat with my friends, most of the time it's just about the friends and nothing else. they are to be the most flexible faculty of companionship you'll ever get, in other words, they mostly (yes, mostly) got your ass covered.
say, you're being robbed at a bank, all that's going in your head is you're hoping for your 'coloured' friend to come with their posse and whack the fucking juice of out that cunt. not because you hate the motherfucking cunt, because, you are entitled to do so with a certain reliable connection here and there. someone knows that someone that knows someone. come to think of it, the nerdy friends of mine should be able to make blogger have the fucking login shit figured out.
other than engaging with hustling and treatening civilians, i've found love. love at first sight. it felt as though it was raining roses and snowing diamonds from the dusting sky when i saw her. caressing her makes me weak and helpless. far more helpless than a snowman waiting for the sun to painfully liquefy the shape of himself. i blushed beamingly when she came out from her cover to introduce herself. no bullshit, no bullshit. ok, it's the sigma 10-20mm lens. fucking wide angle. wider than jenna jameson's cunt or elton john's asshole. if only i have was spared with a few extra cents, i'll bring my one love home. but i don't.
probably i should get some macha's to get it for me. i'm sure they'd love to.
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the four-four.
(Wednesday, April 05, 2006)
quite out of the ordinary yak yak yak which i normally do with style and eloquence around the blog, i've got some very very important annoucement.
i choose my words carefully and i never repeat myself, so pay attention and listen, dammit. so what is the bloody significance of the number 4 and the number 4 again? or specifically, what does that really mean other than the replica of the abovementioned number? it's quite a bit of a mind nibbling bastard. i guess nobody could really figure this out unless, well, unless you've been secretly hiding in the dark edges near my house with a binocular at the wee hours of the day, stalking my proud ass. which is normally what everyone is doing. if you're not doing that yet, you're probably not cool. the ones usually that get bashed up in the toilet for just being brainy. or stupid. i mean both. and unusually gets credited by the headmaster or government for being a pain in the ass.
ok, now i feel like a dry leave swirling away from the gargatuan tree. i never get to the point. i just go round and round it. anyways, perhaps that you might be enlightened already for stalking me ingeniusly, fourth of april was, my birthday anniversary. my 18 and 1/2 birthday. the very day a few years back that i hustled out from my mother's womb, tackling all over and shouting for attention (or rather, a shot of whiskey, the doctor didn't understand bollocks, though)
on the contrary of cliche birthdays like getting wasted ungracefully with various cocktails, i like the day to apprehend on the social elusive and quiet sort of ambience. rather, i'd prefer to nab john off his work and go for dinner. which is sort of like our yearly affair, i call him, he's available but could never really ever know what it's all about, until i tell him before we call it a night. pretty interesting though, he could just forget about my birthday every year. and i adore him for it.
due to evolving circumstances, i was not to benefit from john this year. so i picked someone else to drop the SPECIAL person a suprise birthday announcement. sort of like just dropping the bomb and hope of an out of cliche. it's fun. i only get to do it once a year. it's fun to take advantage of the whole situation, make fun and provoke harmless individuals (i.e, the friends). all for the notion of being a sadistic fuck. i mean, why should anyone get played on their own, birthday...right?
p/s - yes i AM REALLY SURE it's MY birthday. i double-checked
ding dong ting.
(Monday, April 03, 2006)
don't fuck with me.
indeed.
i've got some rotten fever a little here. blocked nose over there. migrain right on top to secure a stay at home. off work. a perfect excuse to skip the nonsense thingamajig in the office. whatever it is, or might be, they can fuck off, go to the nearest bar and settle their deals. i don't fucking care. but here i am at the office, trying to get my bearing inclined (at least proportionally), with the real world. my brain currently suffering from hangover malfunction. everything that i needed to know last week comes back to bloat my brain non-chalantly. superb.
but whining wouldn't go the world any good. it makes one sadistic, impertinent and utmost boring to be with. whiny whores are the supreme winning label of i-is-useless. still we love them as passionately. what a bummer.
because of the creation of my laggy thoughts, i will pay tribute to the academy awards now to celebrate the success of movies (both bad or good) that has never-endingly proposed inspiration and showers us with enchantment we dare not dream about and to simply educate us of life, of honour, of dreams and of miracles. they are like the shining stars that lingers in our dark sky. in the words that settles for less confusion, i'll talk about movies, period. not exactly those in the award winning chapel like gay cowboys, or '
you-jump-i-jump-i-mean-do-i-really-need-to-dammit?'. too many has unintendingly yet kindly gestured for them. take a deep breath, for today is about movies that make you (i mean me actually) horny as hell. simply the type that makes you want to call your spouse home for a little ficky fick or just go to the toilet and do a little something something.
requiem for a dream. think drugs. think young jeniffer connelly, very young. actually, in my very humble opinion it was the ending scene that made the movie. where connelly had to go for a girl-girl show in front of a myriad men; all due to the lack in her medication prescription.
carigula. oh for fuck's sake, this is a ambigious hardcore porn movie made by penthouse with a notion to explain roman emperor, carigula's deep affection for malicious pain and torment. there's probably 20,000 naked women to circulate the completion of the movie. and a few men too. here and there. if you pay enough attention.
wild things. denise richards? the goodie two-shoes in starship troopers evolved into a nymph out of the blue. this was the movie that inspired 3-some sex, you know.
closer. what's the big deal about natalie portman giving clive owen a lap dance? she didn't take anything off. but all blokes love it still. probably the most skin you can get from natalie portman ever. unless tomorrow all her houses burns down simultaneously and all her bank account evaporated. i doubt that would ever ever happen.
eyes wide shut. this movie instantly made itself a hit after the trailer was release. when there's brief nudity in the trailer, there's isn't really much chance that this movie will go wrong. and it didn't. nahhh-ahhh. not at all. God bless stanley kubrick. he made the movie a whole lot better than it should be.
american pie. this classic piece is just IT. but it really don't make people horny. just funny as hell.
i guess that's about it, and no, i have not watch basic instinct. and i do know that sharon stone is the shit too. what's the big deal, it's ONLY sharon stone.
