the best of britain '06

the new williams car at the top, and the new mclaren at the bottom. i haven't seen the mclaren in motion, so i don't really have the right to say anything about it, but...whatever happened to smoke grey? right now, the williams looks quite good. there's no walrus nose, for starters, and it looks quite aggro; just the way a good car should.

the red that makes you happy.

it's amazing how people are willing to make nice with each other during chinese new year. i remember a certain situation where my mother and my uncle were actually cordial to each other...this was during a tumultunous perioud where they always argued with each other (a particular example would be where they'd bang heavily on each other's doors before retiring for bed...strange and sad but true). they really didn't like each other for a time. but when chinese new year came along, everyone was...nice. of course, the regularly scheduled behaviour resumed after a while, but it was relatively peaceful during the festive period.

my father believes in how chinese new year is supposed to be (relatively) happy. it was during chinese new year 3 years ago that my mother went ballistic in brazil (cool name for a band) and called back stating she wanted a divorce. i can understand how she felt. if my father went around asking for a reunion dinner for him, my mother and the mistress, i'd go mad.

nonetheless.

we went to kajang for our reunion dinner at my eldest uncle's last night. the food was good and whatnot, and it's great that my father went despite openly declaring that he really hated my aunt's (as in the uncle's wife's) guts. back in the day, it was assumed that he would've declared responsibility of taking care of my grandparents, but that fell into the hands of my father, who supported them without any qualms...because my uncle's wife realized that my grandparents didn't have much money --- it wouldn't have been worthwhile for her.

there's an unwritten tradition that states that the eldest child should assume the responsibility. well. my uncle didn't, and my father did. funnily enough, this would eventually have led to the breakdown of my parents' marriage. my mother never saw eye to eye about the whole filial piety thing...she always knew that my father didn't have to do it. she also felt that living with the extended family wasn't such a hot idea, even though my father insisted on it. on a separate note, my father once claimed that my mother allegedly turned off the hot water whilst my grandmother was taking a bath during my grandparents' visit to the phillipines. my mother denied it.

that's entertainment.

anyway, chinese new year's here. there's nothing better than a holiday where all parents put their kids on pedestals and laugh at my underachieving. (if anyone's seen that new petronas ad with the grannies talking about how great their kids are, that ending can bring tears to anyone's eyes). it's great to be proud of your child's achievements. but it's rather annoying when you blowhorn it. which is why for this chinese new year, i'm going to blatantly lie and state that my friends and i have a business model for an event management company, but we're looking for backers. yes.

so whilst your child slaves away to the system, i'll be a self-made man.

i wish.

those chinese new year egos aren't getting any smaller.

happy (chinese) new year, everyone.

the pride, the pride.

what do sarah marbeck and monica pang have in common? one was allegedly davy beckham's woman on the side; the other was the second runner-up in the recent Miss America pageant in las vegas. they're both worlds apart, but brought together by one thing: they're sources of malaysian "pride".

for starters, i don't see how marbeck's frolicking with metrosexual exhibit B deserves any glorification. she came from pj, studied in assunta. brilliance. who cares? i'm pretty sure that there're other great examples of national figures who've achieved greater things than being suspected of having their pussies eaten out by mickey mouse (that itself is an ironic statement). and she's practically australian.

monica pang's statuesque. really pretty. her father's malaysian. she's lived in georgia her whole life. she's at least been to the country on visits, but subsequently, she has no great claim on being malaysian. and i doubt that she would mind, either. i don't feel much from having a newspaper tell me that a miss america finalist has a malaysian "link". i wonder how she feels? a woman who could've been Miss America. am i supposed to feel proud that her father decided to move to the states and not come back? and the fact that she's been there all her life and probably doesn't really speak a word of basic malay? eh?

(i'm over-sensitive).

in some ways, it's as if there's ever-present inferiority complex engulfing us.

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look. this country is going places. well, this country is undoubtedly going places: it's a neat place to live in, we're generally happy with life here and we're more developed than most people give us credit for. but sometimes, looking at what's published, it gives one the feeling that trying to prove something that we don't have to prove. there's really no big deal.

i'm not dissing anyone. there've been great malaysians, who've put the country into the spotlight.

jimmy choo makes great shoes.
michelle yeoh is *wow*.
karamjit singh drives his heart out (please give him sponsorship, anyone).
who can forget nicole david?
and the M. can't forget him ever.

but at the same time, there's no need to give extra attention on people who don't deserve it. especially when it leaves someone scratching their heads in confusion over the point of it all.

i could go on about the malaysian book of records. but talking about the futility of sniffing my armpits while standing on one leg for 8 hours doesn't sound that attractive. on the other hand, it does give me an idea for a whole new record to set.

see how easy it is?

the tallest flagpole.
the longest bridge.
the largest roti.

yes! malaysia tentu boleh!

lest you forget about our efforts to be a world player in the world of automobiles. after all, the waja was proclaimed to be "asia's bmw" back in australia a few years back. and purchasing augusta and having nothing to show for it. that's making an impact.

yes.

i'm proud to be malaysian. to an extent. that's already saying a lot. come on lah...there's no need to break into singing about the jalur gemilang or the great strides we've made since the beginning. that shit leaves goosebumps on my arms.

we're proud of who we are. and that's enough.

phwoar! the sensational she-hulk!

rule #207: never, ever admit that you were ever turned on by a comic book character.

enjo k?sai, please?

most of us would be disgusted with the idea of charging men for the usage of high school-aged girls for dates, or possibly even intercourse. some of these girls could be our relatives; we wouldn't want it for them. the problem is, most of the girls who engage in such activities do so secretly, either as a way to earn an extra income or to lighten a financial burden due to being in a underprivilged family. add your own reasons.

this, countered with the fact that in japan (where it's possibly at its most rampant), enjo k?sai is not illegal makes it harder for any clampdowns to be made.

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the process is simple enough. a man engages a telephone club to obtain numbers of "partners" who might be willing to go out with him. keep in mind that what follows afterwards is purely at the discretion of the main parties involved; one thing might possibly lead to another. enjo k?sai isn't explicitly a form of prostitution.

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why isn't it illegal?

• for starters, the age of consent in japan is 13. however, this can start from as low as 7. there're virtually no grounds for a child offender to be charged for a child offense (a biased generalization, but it's kind of obvious).
• secondly, prostitution can be narrowed down to be defined as solicitation purely for coitus in japanese law. anything else goes, more or less.

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funnily enough, japan has a businesses affecting public morals regulation law. so it's all good.
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look. i'm a dude.

i'm definitely all for sex.

i'm all for hot schoolgirls. and, quite possibly, those aged from 16 onwards. we all have fantasies. though to be modest, i'm far from a predator (though for the comedy value, i'm willing to be the butt of jokes that relate otherwise).

as such, i'd like to say that i am not all out for the exploitation of schoolgirls by an industry that has no ethics. it's a sex industry, you'd say. it's business. i agree. regulating bathhouses, love hotels, that's fine. those already toe the line. the government's nonchalance is disturbing.

(but on another note, i'd be quite happy if they regulated love hotels in malaysia...for those above the age of consent, of course).

most of these enjo k?sai girls are kids. it's more than a bit disturbing.
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such is life, such is life.

if i was myself, but at least 5 years younger, i'd even say that this shit is whack!

(maybe not "whack", but an appropriate adjective thereof).

a small part of me still agrees. i can't help that part. i can't say that i'd never try it out at least once if i ever found my way to japan.

but at least the bigger part of me knows that it's not as whack as it used to be. at least.

i'd sooner wear a helmet.

never trust a woman in a tudung.

she can't drive. she'll horn at you from half a kilometre away if you're making an illegal u-turn, despite your efforts to move out of the way as quickly as possible. obviously, she doesn't think highly of considerate actions that benefit her, or at the very least, don't cause her any forms of inconvenience.

she also doesn't understand the meaning of common road courtesy. doing 60 in an 80 lane isn't smart. neither is holding up traffic. people want to go places; otherwise they wouldn't be driving cars.

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never trust a woman in a tudung.

she knows she's blocking your way as you push your shopping cart behind her. she has a tudung radar. it's undoubtable. the wheels squeak, yet she goes about her merry way, oblivious to the fact that there's a lot of space on both sides of the wide corridor. did i mention that the corridor was wide?

maybe she'd understand the meaning of the word if she took a good, hard look at her behind.

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never trust a woman in a tudung.

she can't count. especially in a situation where mental arithmetic is unnecessary. like when she's manning a cash register. which has buttons. that. help. you. count.

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never trust a woman in a tudung.

gossip is fine. just don't make it while i'm waiting in line. at your aisle.

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never trust a woman in a tudung.

only such a woman could let another woman be robbed of dignity and grace. only such a woman could stand unperturbed, unfazed by the atrocity of a naked woman squatting repeatedly, hands to her ears, before her.

only such a woman could ever possibly direct another woman to do such a thing. for more reasons than one.

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this is, obviously, a biased generalization.

i've met some decent women who wear tudungs. and then i've met others.

most of us jokingly mock them, but deep down inside, there really is a glimmer of truth behind what we're saying.

wanking in the dark.

hopping horny zombies, tentacle porn, schoolgirls, whips & candlesticks, deprived tutors, public nudity --- japanese and chinese pornography can be endearingly funny. i was flipping through the massive library of bootlegged VCDs that my father had brought back from brazil and chanced upon part of a collection of porn that i hadn't seen in a while (he did take it away). amidst fluff like ed powers' more dirty debutantes, some vivid video releases and heaps of playboy video pictorials (they're all my uncle's, i swear), i caught a glance of a few intruiging covers: first was one of a scantily clad japanese girl (complete with retro mid-80's hairdo), with a bunch of asian characters with the only legitimate english words being "e-cup".

ho ho hooooooooo. i popped it into my trusty pentium iii and watched. let it be known that i wasn't wanking away. i was honestly curious coz i'd never actually seen the thing before. hardcore action. girl in plaid skirt gets pumped away with the agile, nimble, small (in more ways than one) japanese man. been there, done that (quite literally).

next? something that i'd seen before previously, but never really explored in-depth. hooooo hooooo. i'm loving these puns.

it was a period chinese piece; a costume drama. now, if you've seen or heard of sex and zen, or an erotic chinese ghost story (parts 1 thru 3), you'd probably know what i'm talking about. however --- there were two major differences between this particular film and the aforementioned. this flick was made much earlier, and it showed actual penetration...a big no-no in hong kong these days.

in the end, the female protaganist died and turned into a ghost, complete with the green lighting etched upon her face and ghoulish makeup. it reminded me of another film i'd seen before --- where hopping horny arms-extended zombies were terrorizing a chinese province, much to the citizens' chagrin. however, the women weren't complaining. you had the holy man, dressed in yellow and prerequisite headgear, sending them back to hell with those yellow pieces of holy paper plastered upon their faces. hillarious.

who can forget their first encounter with hentai? tentacle porn! where some 100-armed extraterrestrial freak comes on down to rule the world and seduce its women. all of them. insert some nondescript government supersecret agency, virile men and lots of babes. insert plot device: destroy alien with superweapon --- worldwide orgasm, courtesy of a global-scale orgy. at the end of it all, the world goes white, and everyone's saved...and exhausted. and happy. mission accomplished.

the japanese can be said to have a twisted sense of humour. or they can be just twisted.

what is it about the sailor fuku that turns men around the world on? (don't deny it, you perverts). it's like how certain girls who wear a baju kurung to school have the edge over those with the pinafores.

let's not forget about bondage. personally, i don't see any appeal in tying a girl in a leather contraption hung from the ceiling and proceeding to smear her with hot candle wax. nor do i see the appeal of it happening to me.

i've seen madoka ozawa play a superhero who's forced to screw a man who has a ravaging, evil-scientist injected lethal virus within him. in the end, she starts foaming (at the mouth, you idiot) and dies. the comedy value was seeing her ham it up in her superhero role. what followed thereafter was a bit of bondage-lite.

how about sporting events for women....naked women? that's a novelty.

and how about the worst ones of all? the ones where a girl has the man's excrement in her mouth, and prepares to fellate him. with the excrement. in her mouth. he subsequently ejaculates, and then they kiss. with the cocktail still in her mouth. sometimes another girl is available to spare the man the pleasure of having to taste the product. it's like that joke from the aristocrats...only applied.

which brings me to my next point: women aren't really spared of dignity in japanese porn. they're also a lot more submissive. their western counterparts are a lot more...domineering. high pitched squeals of delirious pain can be annoying. not to mention the ever-present mosaic censor, which spoils the fun somewhat. but that's a story for a totally other time.

despite pornography in general being the same thing all the time, and despite the fact that watching multiple girls walk down a busy shibuya district street in broad daylight naked can be boring, men are still going to load the clips up. pornography is a fantasy tool. we wish our women could be a little bit more like the ladies we see onscreen.

i used to date a girl who looked like akira fubuki once, years ago. that was fun. i was lucky. she didn't know. or maybe she did. it didn't last. i was lucky.

now, i'm going out with someone who couldn't be better. i don't deny it. and i'm not saying that i want her to change. but i'm pretty sure that most guys, no matter how dropdeadgorgeous his partner would be, would be wishing that she could be a little bit (or maybe just a tiny bit) more like some chick he'd laid his eyes upon on a bootlegged copy of some generic title he'd seen many moons ago. it can't be helped.

forgive us.

forgive me.

the only time you'll see it in this blog: ??

i've prided myself on being a hakka. back in china, the hakka were known for being adventurous nomads with a penchant for thrills and high adventure --- if i wrote their backstory.

i'm not really sure which part of china the hakka were from, but wherever it was...we came from the streets. or stone-paved pathways. we had big-ass swords and kicked celestial ass. we were machines and lotharios and made love to our women (who were gorgeous) 5 times a day and they bore us strong sons. we ate chickens with our hands but cooked them (the chickens, you idiot) to perfection.

• the hakka were great.

• the hakka were strong.

• the hakka were kings.

and that was proven in my own bloodline. although my direct family came from the shanties, my great-grandfather was a tin tycoon who wasted his funds away on wine and gambling. he had issues. he was a man. and he was also the first chairman of the hakka association in kuala lumpur way back in the day.

my father brought something up about our family during dinner earlier tonight. something dark. something ugly. something that i never knew. and shouldn't have known.

upon coming from china, my great-grandfather was residing in a place filled with the hakka, i.e. pudu. and they all spoke hakka then, so he had to speak it to gain acceptance. so it was rather ironic that the first chairman of the hakka association wasn't a hakka. which i apparently am...as in i'm not really hakka. i'm part of the creed of people who sound like they're speaking thai.

i'm hokkien.

(dirty) blonde ambition.

is angelina really preggers with brad's child? lordy. it's all starting to come together.

it makes me think of the following:-

1. 1 ugly parent + 1 ugly parent = 1 beautiful child
2. 1 ugly parent + 1 beautiful parent = 1 ugly child
3. 1 beautiful parent + 1 beautiful parent = 1 beautiful child

i don't know how truthful my own theory goes. but it seems real enough, no?

• the return of t.v.

downloadable television, that is. lost and the o.c. are coming back. i'm not too sure about boston legal, though. and american idol's coming soon. happy new year, indeed. the phenomenon of reality television doesn't get any hotter than american idol. you can placard around claiming that it's pointless and destructive for the industry, but by Jove, it's entertainment. good entertainment.

the 7 o'clock bird.

• accounting 2, courtesy of phua chu beng.

accounting 2 started for me once again today. steven toh, our lecturer, bears a striking resemblance to phua chu beng. minus the fact that he isn't as buff as pierre png. the syllabus for accounting 2 has changed somewhat since i last attempted it aeons ago. let's hope that this truly will be the last time. my dislike for memorizing formats and my ongoing struggle with grasping accounting concepts will be fully put to the test as my patienec will be fully stretched. that, and the fact that the lecture theatre is fucking cold. wandering off for a smoke might be more than justified in the near future.

• live from downtown.

now, let it be known that i'm not much of a basketballer. back when the boys were impressing the girls with their lay ups and swishes, i was more interested in smashes and lobs. yes, despite my overtly large frame, i was a badminton star. i could hold my own against any of my friends (keong will reinforce all this) and i was good at what i did. so let this be known, that earlier today, i shot a basketball one-handed into the hoop from the other side of the court. this, of course, was at the court outside my house, and i could say that it came from the halfway line of normal courts. which is still a big deal for me and the guys who were there.

i have witnesses.

i am a basketball god.

it wasn't the inaugural score to launch the court, but it was the inaugural one-handed trick shot. hah. i've started a trend in the neighbourhood. they might make the shot in the end, but i did it first.

i'm so cheap.

• hay fever.

i woke up releasing a wide load of snot. the whole day's been about releasing wide loads of snot. yesterday's loads of snot weren't as bad as today's. when will it end? when?

eeeugh. there goes another one.

death by karateka.

High atop a craggy cliff, guarded by an army of fierce warriors stands the fortress of the evil warlord Akuma. Deep in the darkest dungeon of the castle Akuma gloats over his lovely captive, the princess Mariko.

You are one trained in the way of karate: a Karateka. Alone and unarmed, you must defeat Akuma rescue the beautiful Mariko.

Put fear and self-concern behind you. Focus your will on your objective, accepting death as a possibility. This is the way of the Karateka.

it starts normally enough.

after half an hour of constant button mashing...

%^&%@#$@#$@. dead at the hands of a second-tier karateka.

for what it was worth, karateka does give me some great memories. playing it again was great...especially since i'm able to appreciate it a little bit more. and i do play it better. a little.

the story of us - part 2

my parents' wedding photo had been hanging on my wall when my room was being occupied by my grandfather, amongst graduation photos belonging to my father, aunt and uncle, as well as a family portrait. my uncle had taken back his graduation photo once my grandfather passed away and the room was vacated. i had taken down the wedding photo.

my father's side of the family (excluding my eldest uncle) were staying in cheras, right up my mother's road. my parents had initially met there. my father would give her and her mother lifts when he was leaving the house for work. i suppose that it started back there. i haven't asked either of them about the courtship...i suppose that it was really a thing of convenience. i guess that my maternal grandmother must have somehow discussed wedding plans with my paternal grandparents.

lo and behold, they got married. my father says he married my mother because he thought she was an independent woman, who was responsible, stable, educated with the ability to carry on her own career. i don't know why my mother married my father. she had told me about how she had a boyfriend in singapore at the time, and how things would've been different if she'd gone over there.

whatever works for her, i guess.

there're a few things that might or might not have happened during the early years of the union.

1. my mother might've miscarried my elder sister/brother
2. she might've sabotaged my grandparents' visit to the phillipines
3. my father might've threatened to divorce her, upon which my grandmother begged him to forgive her
4. the same as above, except that my grandmother told him (to paraphrase blink 182) to stay together for the kid

one thing led to another. it's been an accumulated bag of misadventures between them. i suppose that it ultimately struck when my mother found out about the other woman. and then she decided to go primitive on my father.

being so close to the end of it, now, i have to wonder what's going to happen in the future. there's speculation that i'm going to get a stepmother. my father hasn't discussed his future plans with anyone, save divorcing my mother as quickly as possible. estranged as they are, my mother isn't willing to give my father what he wants quite yet.

i'm not torn between two sides, but i have to admit i still am a bit bothered by the whole mess. but whatever happens in the end, i can safely say that both parties are screwed in the head somewhat. and possibly, their begotten son as well.

the story of us - part 1

there's nothing to be confused about. my father wants a divorce; my mother doesn't.

at least that was what my father told me after the results of yesterday's hearing. hearing the news from my father and not from my mother's side might give it a tinge of biasness. my mother might not be agreeing to a divorce due to details over the maintenance and relief, it's possible...or it could be from the religious standpoint, she being a catholic. of course, it could be a totally different reason altogether, but, hey...it's not really my problem, except that it is.

i often wonder if my parents have felt that they've failed in some aspects of my life. i remember my father saying once that he had this incredibly career in contrast to everything else falling apart around him. my mother seems content with what she has, but it could've been so much better.

it must be heartbreaking not to be able to live your life out to its fullest. or to at least lead the life that you had originally intended. with the person that you wanted to. granted, we never know if we've made the right choice until it's too late...by which time, we would've grudgingly decided to throttle on in hopes of some kind of fulfillment, up to a point where you wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

oi vey. a headache life is.

the next hearing is in spring, back in court. i think my father is tired of postponements. i haven't really asked him why he wants a divorce so badly, but i can only guess. is it worth warranting a change? if he feels better after going through with it, i suppose so.

to be honest, both my parents have gone wrong somewhere. this rubbish has got to stop eventually.

who is the stig?

nobody knows who Top Gear's The Stig really is. but here're some things that we know of him...some say that:-

• He was born in space.
• He forages for wolves at night.
• He sleeps upside down like a bat.
• His sweat can be used to clean precious metals.
• His skin has the texture of dolphins.
• If you tune your radio to 88.4 FM you can actually hear his thoughts.
• He does not see like humans do, instead he sees numbers in green scrolling down (a reference to the The Matrix).
• He is scared of bells.
• He once punched a horse to the ground.
• His politics are terrifying.
• He lives in a tree.
• He was raised by wolves.
• He appears on high-value stamps in Sweden.
• His favourite philosopher is Immanuel Kant.
• He has no understanding of clouds.
• His earwax tastes like Turkish Delight.
• He is confused by stairs.
• He naturally faces magnetic north.
• He is illegal in 17 U.S. states.
• His heart ticks like a watch.
• All his legs are hydraulic.
• He can "accumbularate".
• He appears on Japanese banknotes.
• There's an airport in Russia named after him.
• He is wanted by the CIA.
• His breath smells of magnesium.
• He can catch fish with his tongue.
• His tears are adhesive.
• If set alight, he'd burn for a thousand days.
• He is terrified of ducks.
• His voice can only be heard by cats.
• He has two sets of knees.
• He can swim seven lengths underwater.
• He has webbed buttocks.
• He can melt concrete on contact.
• He is more machine than man.
• His heart is in upside down.
• His teeth glow in the dark.
• His favorite food is raw meat
• He has no age

all i know is, he's called The Stig.

togas for '06?

• happy new year, assholes.

modesty dictates that i restrain myself from divulging the details from my new year's eve "celebrations", but granted, they weren't all that bad. then again, a lack of any information would make this post pointless, wouldn't it?
what is funny is that i haven't been invited to paolo's new year's day bash '06. either he's forgotten about me, or the gomes' aren't free this year to host a blastoff shindig...which i can't believe. usually this time pop's grandmothers would come on down and auntie junji would be cooking and i'd find myself passed out on the couch upstairs whilst idiots are abusing my ps2 to no limits.

not happening this year.

i've got to make more friends.

• i, i, I.

angels in america is lush, grand, beautiful, funny, sad. never before has the plight of a gay man dying from AIDS touched me so much. and it's fictional. and that's just one subplot. prior's drug-induced hallucinations, harper's angel-detecting erections, louis' paranoia, the state of the american dream in 1985 (hey, it was reagan) and more more more more more all add up to six hours of goodness.

though it can be a drag. i don't claim to be some kind of bourgeois high-media culture snob, but angels in america is enriching and fulfilling, and it'd makes for compelling viewing. my favourites? scenes between the angel of america and prior. fucking hillarious.

• january begins.

love is severely overrated. wait. i might be in love. to be fair, i don't know what love is. i want to know what love is. i want you to show me.

bad foreigner lyrics aside, may ann's at the beach whilst i'm in the suburbs, and i've been reflecting upon the last month. it's been a weird and happy month. i'm content with that particular aspect with life. but the rest of it really kicks off this month.

1. it's orientation time again for the freshmen (a term that isn't used widely enough in kl) --- wednesday thru friday finds the freshmen set through their paces, as HELP University College prepares itself for its first mass-faculty orientation (at least for the first day)
2. i've got to see if i can register for accounting 2, and, at the very least, just pass it so that i can add a diploma to the wall
3. Lost returns in 9 days (10 days if you're downloading it from southeast asia)

the new year has come and gone. no more auld lang syne.