center of the earth is hot.
(Thursday, May 18, 2006)
first of all, i've developed a hate and phobia towards ringing phones,
especially my own. bad news always have a way of hooking up with your trendy
life through the fucking phone. if my friend had accidentally crashed into a
one night stand with some rigid fat lady, they'd fucking drop me a call. if
my friend fucked his girlfriend until she ejaculates, they won't even bother
to occupy my stale life with such fragrant entertainment. yes, ignore that
bloke. just call him to tell him you fucked up your life.
couple of hours ago, the mailman came and drop me some of my summons. yes,
MY summonS. exactly ten of it. all for speeding. way to go, Liew. don't be
assumptious and label me a rotten fucking street racer. that's more than an
insult. those sort of accusation will drive a man into grave faster than
cancer.
i do not do street race, you know the one with a larger than pineapple
diameter muffler, more skirting than a fucking aeroplane, if the colour of
car the were to be equivelant to a person, it'll be a whore at the las vegas
boulevard. but so to happen, i dread the minutes a person waste while
travelling and i press the accelarator slightly harder than anybody else.
surely there has to be some justification for people like me right? the
government isn't punishing the left handers for cultural misfit into the
society. then why is the government (or rather the police force) take on
full scale effort to demolish us, the people who born with an actual genetic
disability to honour the speeding limit?
i think i'll just drive slower. like hog the road and let others in the
world suffer for being a pain in the ass on the road. cause traffic jam.
delay the perhaps unnecessary time spend on a journey. like some moron who
goes 30km/h in the fast lane of a highway.
the traffic jam is not cause by the lacksture of our unplanned traffic
routes, mostly, but by a brand of jerks that suspend themselves handsomely
on the road while others try to squeeze into punctuality.
all cars lesser than 2.5 litre should never ever be driven into a highway.
it's a liablity. pests in a jewelled palace.
my last word, if you see a car trying to hustle very eloquently in the
traffic, PLEASE FUCK OFF. you might not know when you need someone else to
fuck off for you.
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neeenoooneeenooo
(Tuesday, May 16, 2006)
unfortunately, the fucking pc had a virus infection. totally knock my shit off. one minute it was nice and proper, then next minute, let's just say it's the equivalant to jenna jameson in mr. universe event. the innocent pc morphed into some sort of fucker that goes spamming everyone and everything that came into it's way. i can't handle that kind of pressure. but it's fixed.
the weekend, however, was nothing of such like my computer. it was bright and sunny and there were more than a dozen of things waiting to net me into their seductive grounds of slavery. andrew pimped me into paintball on sunday. interesting little shit, this paintball shit. it's basically a bunch of people going ballastic after given a catatonic force in hand. a certain degree of dictatorship and lunacy would come in handy with a weapon for optimum use.
incidently, the amateurs will act as a non-destructive fleet of live target of the rotten muthafucking veterans to validate their crucial periodic investment. i on the other hand, love the fuck out of the game. it's so fun, it's like what rachel described as setting little rats/hamster/anything in that family free after you set fire on them.
it's not sadistic, it's just harmless morbid fun. now, spca won't really give me an award for saying that...
let's roll
(Wednesday, May 03, 2006)
if you listen to mogwai in lumut, it's fucking fantastic.
if you listen to nelly/snoop dogg in lumut, you're fucking crazy. it's not dope and it's not cool.
don't ask why, i don't really know. it sounds appropriate to make that statement.
i was in lumut for some working shit (which is totally dope cause working is super fucking fun, not, not at all actually), and ben happens to be there so i dragged kimberly along with me. the reason why i asked kim along cause i thought her and ben would be totally alright. oh, gosh, i was bloody wrong. i was so wrong, listening to bush's sermon about the weapons of mass destruction sounds vastly more tolerable.
ben and kimberly are like cats and dogs. marilyn monroe and jackie kennedy. dictator and freedom. the moment they were in contact, a new brand of misfit comes into action. they were practically the ultra-opposite of each other. there was this whole teasing and counter-teasing and calling names and whatnot. how the fucking hell did they cope with each other so nicely in buffalo? in a wicked eccentric way, they were actually enjoying the torment they feed each other so eloquently. some people are fucked up. ben and kimberly could never be so accurate in depicting that statement.
since kimberly got her own room and all that sibling rivalry jack shit, i had the disconcerting merit of sleeping with the infamous 'sleeping gropper'. basically, i totally understand. ben is a pervert. he likes to fondle people but he can't cherish his notorious habit so boldly. it wouldn't make sense if people doesn't return the favour. so ben waits until everyone's asleep before he fulfills his crave.
i strictly warned ben about the consequences of going brokeback on me while he was sleeping before i went to bed. a gazillion times. let's just say ben actually understood me perfectly but HE HAD TO RUB ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. ewww, i concentrated so much energy on my feet, if i kicked ben, his spine with fly out along with and it wouldn't justify if it isn't a fucking murder. so i simply told him off, and he understood perfectly. how weird. he's not really sleeping, actually, that pimp.
doesn't take an einstein to figure out who's the naughty bastard, does it?
