Tonguetied and Brainfried.

Tonguetied and Brainfried.

I’m finally catching up to the CPU opponent. I know that it sounds like a very bad excuse, but my reasoning for my constant losing is due to my inability to get the best letters I need at the times that I need them. That’s why all boardgames are based on luck…there’s really no such thing as a boardgame that requires any necessary skill. Chance and happenstance play a bigger role than we think they would.

(Look at that vocabulary...it's hardly what you'd call Scrabble-worthy).

Anyway, there’s no better way to spend a Saturday evening than playing a game of computer Scrabble (I’m lying through my yellowed teeth).

red letter days.

red letter days.

nothing to say today.

If Genius Loves Company…

If Genius Loves Company…

...why’m I alone? Another semester, and funnily enough, the ghosts of Advanced Business Statistics and Relationship Marketing are still haunting me. And this drags my graduation back. A significant lot.

Any redemption? None. None whatsoever. It’s close to the end, and I’m still not ready yet.

Laugh. Coz Lord knows I don’t know how to.

alright. how do you cross the boundary between being "just" a friend to something a little more? and how far would you let it take you? how do you initiate it? how do you know if the chemistry's there to even try such a thing? and how do you know if they're up for it as much as you are? how would they know?

boy meets girl.
girl meets boy.
they hang out for a bit.
boy gets girl.
boy loses interest.

is the thrill really in the hunt? is that all there is to it...? is this the perfect case of how the anticipation really is greater than the reward?

i have no doubts that i want to be doing this. that should be enough.

ian tai presents: the ladykiller.

ian tai presents: the ladykiller.

i know you're feeling grief-stricken after the crash,
but now that he's dead, we can take all the cash;
we can go to mexico and do acapulco bay,
for sun, sea, surf and a roll in the hay.
we can leave the kids behind with the sitter at home,
or we can pack them up and ship them to rome.
but never mind them, baby, when do we leave?
we need fun in the sun; it's quite passe to grieve.

i can apply lotion to the small of your back,
we'll sip pina coladas and snort some crack.
if you like fresh oysters, we can get them too;
but don't forget, dear, that the bills're on you.
i know you're feeling lonely, but i'm still here,
and we don't have to hide, or even frolic in fear.
think of it this way: we'll live life to the hilt;
i cut the brake line...please don't feel any guilt.

i know you love the kids, and i love them, too;
but relax a little, babe...this break is for you.
you're a beautiful woman, and i'm a wonderful man;
we're blissful together, so let's get a tan!
please don't mind the knife that i've packed in the bag;
it's for cutting apples...or grapefruits...or fags.
acapulco bay, babe, our month in the son;
please don't mind me getting the return ticket for one.

tuna@3.

tuna@3.

never have marina tuna. or at least, their chili tuna selection. for some strange reason, the sauce that it's doused in is oversalted, and there's not really anything remotely spicy about it. i know that eating "chili" tuna at 3 in the morning isn't exactly the most brilliant thing to do at the time, but i had this sudden craving for meat. seeing how i'm too lazy to really fry/boil some nuggets or sausages, the best thing that i could think of was to open a can of tuna. or to drive around hopelessly looking for a burger stall. actually, i'm not sure if we have one here in the neighbourhood sundry shops, but...yeah.

whilst watching the brad pitt heineken commecial i downloaded, i noticed that it used a completely different song fromthe version that we see in our cinemas (we get the rolling stones' "gimme shelter")...apparently the song i heard is a reworked version of something from 80's puppy rockers styx. the guys who did that tawny song "babe" (babe i'm leaving/i must be on my way/but i'll be missing you).

i'm still eating the tuna, by the way. i guess you could say that i'm spoilt for choice, but the draw of convenience has overcome my zest of appetite. whatever that means. the day wasn't a total loss; i spent the whole day in college playing some sort of german factory simulation boardgame. to cut a long story short, it wasn't very practical, but it was fun. fun and tedious. we took a crash course in it...apparently a good game can take up to 3 days. brilliance. lunch, of course, was provided for the students. there's nothing like a pack of fried rice to take the edge off things.

as if.

i'm worried about letterman. they showed an episode that was taped in the spring, with j.lo (too lazy to call her by her full moniker) and snoop dogg. what about the summer episodes? ntv7 should actually be getting the episodes regularly since they're all prerecorded. each day's show is recorded the day prior, apparently. or something that goes along that lines. anyway, one thing i found truly ironic about ntv7 is that although it's bought a plethora of shows from cbs, it's using the abc "7" logo.

it's true. malaysians have no imagination of their own (let's not even mention the 60 minutes rip-off). i should know; i'm one of them.

kazooks.

#500.

#500.

Welcome to the five hundredth post of funkyhippopotamus. It’s been amazing that it’s lasted this long, and at the same time, it’s also amazing that not more people have taken notice of it. That’s right…I’ve discovered that I’m a slave to internet popularity. Although people plead to be anonymous on the internet, there’re some of us who just want to be known. After many failed attempts to make it big in music and television, I came to the conclusion that the internet was the place to be. However, there were a few problems that I’ve encountered. Namely, I can’t write well enough to be noticed. My attempts at being witty have failed. And I don’t have a group of friends who I drag in to read the blog, which would be good…because a revolving cast of regular characters would help. As well as a digital camera. And maybe a life that would be worthy of being blogged about. And let’s not forget that I need an angle…but I don’t think “the adventures of an underachieving 21 (soon to be 22) year old” rates highly upon topics of interest for most people. This is just a farty blog. But, dammit, it’s mine.

Actually, by right, this isn’t the five hundredth post, but something that figures more. Don’t forget that month where the blog went off-tangent and I started a new one because I wanted to leave all this rubbish behind me in preference for a more introspective blog. But then again, this could be considered #500 because of all the junk that I usually put on. I am self-conscious over the single-lined entries that don’t really count as posts. And the statements that I failed to make that nobody would’ve understood, anyway. And despite my best efforts, my lack of a life beyond the internet has led me to post at irregular intervals, despite making a commitment to deliver daily (or at least rotational-daily) postings.

Oh my God. I’m being anal over this.

Anyway, the weekend so far has been…better than most. Friday night was spent at Hartamas, where I met up with Matt, Sean, Helmi, Ben and…Chian Tyng (I dig that “y”). Chian Tyng’s supposed to be an old family friend of Sean’s. Her banter about pornography and hanging genitals notwithstanding, she made good slacking company. We were at Spicy (my first time in fucking months), and then we proceeded to Cristro’s (ditto), where I had an Iced Mocha while everyone just…drank. Liver conditions are the shits.

Saturday was better. I met up with Matt and had lunch at McD’s. And then we proceeded to look for lepers in Sungai Buloh (the story goes that there was a leper colony in Sungai Buloh but they were all cured…and I thought that the world was rid of leprosy)…but not before we digressed to pick Helmi up at Subang, where we sat at Darussalam and just…bummed. (Yup…we didn’t get to see the lepers). Mamak living returns. We then went to Ampang to meet up with Helmi’s friends (and went to a mamak, no less), and amidst conversations regarding auditing, how oil prices affect the global economy and emigration policies to Australia, I managed to put in a few (un)witty lines. I wish I was born funny. We then proceeded to go to 1 Utama to meet Sean and Ben for a movie.

(I’d just like to say that at this point, Sean was at home, playing World of Warcraft).

Sean never showed up, despite it being his idea to go watch The War of the Worlds. We had dinner at Nando’s (my first time!), and then we proceeded to go to Bangsar, where we went to the T Club or whatever it’s called (it’s shite boring). Helmi bowed out, and then the rest of us went to the Castle (which was formerly The Roof, and let me just say that The Roof was so much more memorable to be in). And then we went to McD’s, and parted ways.

I don’t understand why Chian Tyng wouldn’t let me take her home. I mean, I was taking Matt back anyway. Just because Ben drives a Civic, has manly arms, is a decent guy and works at RHB…it doesn’t mean that he has carriage rights for the night. Unfair. What do I have that he doesn’t? (Insert smiley-tongue emoticon here).

Yea, well. It was a good two days’ worth of whatever you want to call it. Forgive the parenthesis. And here’s to 500 more. For me, anyway.

KL Menjerit.

KL Menjerit.

Young Malay males are stupid and lazy. That’s why they decide to spend their weekend nights hanging around in groups while oogling over each others kapchais; not like young stupid and lazy Chinese males, who spend their weekend nights clubbing and hanging around mamaks doing nothing in particular. The aforementioned Malay males fantasize about being the next Valentino Rossi; the speed at which they ride at is a testament to that. Also, the fact that they ride in packs, whiz by motorists like mosquitoes and swerve in and out of traffic often makes one wonder if the riders have some sort of death wish. Let’s not forget the various motocross tricks; we’ve all seen a rider try to pull off a Superman or at least a wheelie.

Silly, silly Malays.

I never understood the reasoning behind having a pillion rider when speeding on a kapchai. Doesn’t that make the bike heavier? Although it might add some downforce, I don’t see how it enhances the aerodynamicism of the bike in total. And I don’t understand young Malay love. I suppose that “love” denotes popping your girlfriend as the pillion rider and speeding away. I’m pretty sure it gives her some sort of rush (or flush), but the fact that you’d want to endanger anyone else but yourself…most especially your “awek”…I don’t understand it at all.

Silly, stupid fucking Malays.

It’s good to know that the urban Malay youth of today are behind the Malay youth of yesteryear. Yeah, I know…this whole generation of Malaysians has gone to the shits. But unlike the Chinese, who work their asses off, or the Indians, who have everything to lose, mostly everything’s been laid out in front of our Bumiputera brothers.

Find a track to race on, for fuck’s sake. Stupid, silly, fucking Malays.

I’m not being racist. But seriously; I’d rather die with four wheels beneath me than no wheels when I fly off the bike. There’re some things that we do that lack rationality, and those are okay. Being a total idiot and wanting to risk your life for cheap thrills isn’t worth it…and if you’d really want to tempt the reaper, at least don’t endanger someone else with you.

Happy Birthday, America!

Happy Birthday, America!

I considered myself an American a lifetime ago. Then things changed. But sometimes, I have these cravings to renounce my Malaysian nationality (not that there's that much wrong with Malaysia, eh?) and just flee to New York, penniless, searching for work amongst the Chinese eateries there as a dishwasher. While moonlighting as a simple dishwasher, I'd make my way to the coffee bars, hit the Village and ask if I could perform my sweet, sweet music to the (coffee-going) masses, where I'd do my thing on a nightly basis. Then I'd get featured on Spin as The Next Big Thing, and be some kind of pop troubadour, and by doing this, keep myself relevant by constantly updating the patented sound that I would already have established.

The American Dream. As seen by me. Though if I had a choice, I wouldn't really want to go there penniless.

Happy Independence Day, everybody. Your President's still a monkey in my book. Vote the Democrats in!

Studs bearing gifts and good tidings are never appreciated.

Studs bearing gifts and good tidings are never appreciated.

It never fails to surprise me how incredibly timid the Business students have become. When I waltz into a full class asking who wants free food, I’d at least expect some hands to be raised. When I go into a class and everyone groans, I know your murmurs are those of irritation. So do me a favour, and just take the vouchers. Yes, I know that it’s dodgy…I mean, I do find having to bring three people with you in order to eat for free a bit dumb, but take four vouchers from me and just take turns getting free food on different days. It’s not like the hours are that bad.

Hossine (he’s the only Algerian student in Business at the moment) was telling me that he found it quite sad that the Malaysian students weren’t that stoked. Actually, the Malaysian Business students. He commented on how the ADPians are having a fine time, and how the A-Levellers and the HMCers are having fun. Of course, he subsequently declined a voucher, but at least he was honest. But seriously, it’s chicken rice…most importantly, it’s free. Who cares if the portions aren’t that big?

Doesn’t "free" mean anything to people anymore?

I’ve already been doing this for a week. Thank God for Ms. Priya and her FLAW classes. Those are some classy people. Okay, not to say that Business students aren’t classy; I’m sure that they are. But sometimes it feels like it’s a wasted effort. Although I won’t forfeit so easily. It’s not like I’m trying to make a second ADP department or whatnot…I just want some people to get off their feet.

Oh, the humility of it all. At least some of them took pity on me. Though I’d like it if it was a genuine desire to eat at the Rice Bowl.

Kill the gift horse, will you?

your love was like a light bulb hanging over my bed.

your love was like a light bulb hanging over my bed.

sunday, actually, monday morning. i haven't slept yet. justin wasn't able to give me his ceremonial ferrari victory chant for one special reason: his man didn't win. no, it went again to the spaniard. i credit alonso with a clean victory; there was no other victor earlier tonight. but imagine what would've happened if flying finn II hadn't had to change his engine. it would've been a mclaren victory, undoubtedly. this would be the time when you ferrari fanboys point out that rubens could have started from the back of the grid and worked his way up from second (which he's done remarkably well in the past, and it proves that he's a great racer but can't quite keep his willy up for qualifiers), but since we're not talking about rubens, i have one thing to say to you:

i don't give a flying fuck. for the flying finn flew.

next up is silverstone. the cornerstone of english racing. i shan't miss it, though it'd probably be at a bitching 7:00 p.m. time slot, meaning that i'd have to eat dinner early and the like. start my day earlier and stuff like that. which is what i haven't been doing. my desire to procrastinate (or namely, not to pick up anything college-related) has made me realize that i've left myself into a lurch for the merdeka project (which, from this moment on in this blog, i shall hence refer to as "mdk05" because it sounds cool). we're a good deal behind schedule, we haven't made shit yet...and i've still got to get some materials from ye old hardware store in bangsar.

i am not a nonchalant nincompoop (did i spell that right, boyo? --- the nincompoop...i think i'm smart enough to know how to spell "nonchalant") --- i simply have better things to do. like catch up on sleep. dammit. i shouldn't be saying that...i should be totally devoted to the project and all, but sometimes i wish that i could just quit it. and before you ask me why i can't, i just want to end my so-called reign with a bang. or a bong. whatever.

and as this monday comes for me, and as i go through the paces, i shall remember the one constant that's holding me together right now. which i won't reveal to you, for although i may indulge myself in exhibiting my very core to you here, there're some things about me that you'll probably never know.

(sometimes it's good to keep secrets because telling everyone all your problems online is kinda lame).

so. toodles. ta. wish i'd seen live8 online. bugger.