would you like some hot coffee?

my father is convinced that my monitor has been infected by a computer virus. it's hard to convince him that he's wrong...in the end, i've given up. he probably thinks that i'm just as hard to convince otherwise, but the thing is...i know i'm right.

he came back on friday night with clothes for everyone. i've gotten a good mix --- from orange basketball shorts to a cheery striped white top. i am much pleased.

currently, i've borrowed a monitor off a neighbour. the problem is, it gives the same old tinge of yellow that the old monitor gave. the old monitor has been blown, by the way. and the current monitor's tinge has nothing to do with it catching a virus of any sorts...it was already like this. i really need to borrow someone's spare monitor (that works properly) until my father concedes defeat. the problem right now is the world becoming redder each time i turn away from the monitor. it's scary.

between studying for accounting, i've managed to squeeze a lot of due time into playing san andreas. i'll be honest with you: i quit playing the first time round because i thought it was too tough. i hadn't even gotten off los santos yet and i was already giving up. luckily, this time round, i've persisted enough to land my black ass onto san fierro. it's amazing...and i really do want to visit the real san francisco because; i believe that asian chicks in san francisco are the zenith of asian nubility.

and that catalina is one crazy bitch.

to sate my inner perv, i would like to ask if it's possible to access hot coffee without a gameshark. if so, please tell me!...i just want to know what it's like...that's all. honest.

tomorrow is labour day...have a good break. for the nihilists such as myself...it's just another day.

dada diaries: day 10.

we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year,
running over the same old ground...

what have we found?

the same old fears.

wish you were here.

sometimes i wonder where my friends've gone. then i remember that i never really bothered to keep in touch with them in the first place. i've left friends behind in the states for 14 years already. back then, you never realize how important it is to keep in touch. ditto for singapore. who knows?...i could have had the shag of my life with one of those righteous twins in year 5 now.

possibilities, eh?

ditto when it comes down to garden international. aside from the occasional friendster acquaintance from way back then, i'd much rather avoid particular people. i guess that being older should grant me the ability not to be annoyed by the jocks and queens, but...yea. i was never cool enough, and in a lot of respects, i'm still not. and y'know...it does bother me to an extent. what would've happened if i was in the clique of all cliques?

would i have turned out differently? the debate rages on. the person i am on the outside is so much different from the person i am at home. but lest you forget, i've already had a lifetime of experiences that're more than fulfilling. i've been to the great divide and back, and have sampled a wide range of emotions, whilst touching the inner recesses of my mind, as well as the darkest depths of my godforsaken soul. i have a feeling that God still doesn't like me that much...but maybe a little bit more.

the people that i've hung around with have been cool in their own right. y'know, the nerds, geeks, sci-fi afficiandos, music lovers, artschool peeps who'd have a ball of a time when one of the uppity clique would need our help. but now the status quo has changed somewhat; in college/university, there're a million other people just like you --- and you can reinvent yourself faster than madonna can say "conical bra". and, if you try hard enough, you can convince people that you were always part of the jock club, even if you weren't. it's just another clean slate.

fun, no?

in the end, we're all nice people...in different ways. i'm sure that i would only have been acknowledged when my help was needed...i remember a particular classmate from that bunch who wanted my math homework every fucking day. as well as the fact that i had a number of the jocks hooked on bon jovi for a whole term. i worked my magic then. nowadays, my mana level has increased by a hundredfold and i'm charming little girls into wearing my own line of underwear...but i shan't get ahead of myself.

but we're all nice people, aren't we? even if we're all assholes on the outside. i've got to believe in that. the world's running out of nice people.

this is for the lost friends. who weren't really "friends" of the lifelong relationship variety, but...yeah. the people who i never talked to after leaving. and to the ones who i've somehow hooked up to again but haven't spoken to since then. you know who you are, but you probably aren't reading this.

silly me.

apart from this, i still have no idea when my father's coming back. he should be departing from china either tonight or tomorrow morning, and from there it's all guesswork as to where he is. i'm not sure how to break it to him that the perdana's forward left rim is damaged from the smdj pothole (it was that bad)...since i wasn't supposed to take his prized possession out. oops. then again, if he had the audacity to proclaim that he wouldn't fix his damage if it was too expensive to correct, maybe he'll just let the rim rot off. that'd be funny.

the fear of parental reprimand! damaging the car! needing to absolve myself of any blame! flat broke! success!

i feel 16 again!

look what the spam brought in!

i've just found this in my junk inbox. is it too good to be true? you be the judge.

i'm not really that enlightened by it, though.
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dada diaries: day 09.

my aunt and uncle are coming back from china in about an hour or so.

the day's been a total waste. i came back at half past dawn and slept through to 11. i popped in gta: vice city into the ps2 out of curiousity (i've swapped my ps2 for ck's) and i found that i could play the game without it stalling on me. following that, i popped in san andreas. i never finished the game, but i spent enough time with it to appreciate it more.

my problem with gaming here is that the games are dirt cheap. a very, very strange complaint. there's always the risk of a dodgy disc creeping into your life, like my unplayable copy of kingdom hearts II, but aside from that, the biggest risk is in accumulating a backlog of games that you've never played. RM 5 for a game is too good to resist, but you're always bound to never finish your games before moving on to the next one.

i'm considering giving away my games, and keeping a small core of games (mostly franchise games) to work on before i buy any more. plus, prices of ps2 games might be coming down over the next 2 years with the introduction of the ps3; i would've (hopefully) graduated and rededicated my life to having fun whilst being paid for it.

ultimately, it's about saving space and not feeling guilty over how negligent over my games i've been. i guess that it'd make me feel better. if it gets any worst, i might throw in the kitchen sink and sell off the ps2 for a dirt cheap price. but in all honesty, the games being given away?...i can see that happening. letting go of the console?...not so likely.

i'm not that generous.

seeing how my father is on a 10 day trip, does that mean he's coming back on day 11? i'm so confused. i never did take a look at his itinerary. but there's not much fun to hunt for now; his spies are returning and it's back to the simple life.

i've realized that my time is spent accumulating a backlog in everything i have...a sure sign of procrastination at its greatest.

financial accounting, here i come. whoopeee-fuckin'-doooo.

the vtaifoohing experience.

back in high school, i was constantly mocked for my chinese name --- tai foo hing.

tai foo, when translated to cantonese, means underwear. and, due to a faint slip (as a manner of speaking), most people in my class found out that i wore hanes underwear. now, hanes is a reputed and respected undergarment brand in the united states, but most of the uninformed folk of malaysia didn't know, or didn't care, about it.

hing means "popular", to an extent.

so...i'm literally a popular brand of eponymous underwear.

but i imagine if i were to launch my own brand of underwear...simply named taifoohing.

taifoohing on the asses of women around the world. your mother, your sister, your girlfriend, your wife, with my name emblazoned all over her bottom.

then we'll see who's laughing.

then i'll have my revenge.

v for vtaifoohing, sucka.

onto other news...

i'm currently posting this from the masterful surprises' place. the redecoration is complete. m:i-2 is playing on the television. one more week to m:i-3. it's going to be a fun may.

dada diaries: day 08

moved furniture with the masterful surprise at his place in the wee hours of the morning. after long hours of deliberation, we came to a conclusion as to what his room should look like for the next few months. a change is bound to happen, but after the events of this morning, i hope that it'd come later as opposed to sooner.

day 08 continues.

dada diaries: day 07.

it's a truly do-or-die situation; i've got more than a week before my accounting 2 final, and i'm less than safe from the reaper for now. my days of elegantly slumming at home have got to stop (for now), whilst my own belief in instant gratification has got to take a sabbatical for me to truly focus on what's important for now. the problem is, i've still got a whole load of things to do that reek of being trivial but essential to my very core. for starters, i've still got 4 episoides of 24 to watch (come tomorrow morning, it's going to be 5), and i've still got at least 5 episodes of lost to complete in order to satisfy finishing the backlog. also, i've yet to complete reading v for vendetta (which i was meant to do a week and a half ago), and i still have to start ripping into the ultimates volume 1 and 2. there's just too much pop culture to absorb...and it's ruining me.

this would be a good time to mention that i can only study at night, because nothing ever happens at night...as long as i don't galivant around and visit karaoke centres or mamaks. it's been a rather sedate 24 hours so far, and i hope that i've got enough self-control not to escape for dinner tonight. the problem is, i don't really see much of a difference between going out for dinner, because the alternative would be staying home and finding something to do that would not revolve around opening a book.

on a brighter note, i grabbed hold of queen's greatest hits and i can safely say that no other band could make a song called "bicycle race" any more fun than it already is. and since i'm in the mood for retro, david bowie shall be making an overdue return on my playlist. let's go retro a-go-go.

i probably would have to make an appearance at college sometime this week, although i'd keep it til next week if i could. i might only have one paper to take, but fucking it up means the absolute, definite end to an otherwise unimpressive tertiary academic life.

and then the chances of ogilvy and mather wanting me would totally wane. it's funny how i'm planning towards an internship more than attempting to do well enough to secure a place at the company, but whatever works for now...otherwise i might have to kiss kenneth's ass frequently and beg him. there's nothing wrong with ass-kissing --- it gets you places, if you're subtle enough. oh Lord, get me into marketing communications and i swear that i'll stop smoking. indefinitely.

don't stop me now, baby. day 07 continues.

dada diaries: day 06.

ferrari won. strange. i feel happy, although i hate the team.

slow day. haven't touched 24 quite yet.

walked a dog for a while! felt quite fulfilling.

it's not ryan's.

teresa really summed it up in one sentence. after two years, the truth is finally revealed. though...it's quite a letdown somewhat. but at least that's settled.

i'd also like to give a big fuck you to blogger. undoubtedly, i'm still gonna use the service, but i feel somewhat offended by the assumption of this being a spam blog. took you over two years to ask.

this is just silly. but it instills a rumbling in my rectum. silly americans. sigh.

dada diaries: day 05.

happy birthday, lezel.

karaoke was great. sang my ass off. the acapella rendition of always that we pulled off in the end was priceless. it must be released and distributed. all of it. it's good to sing with people who know the lyrics in and out.

food at red box was better than expected, but then again, at RM 35, it was worth it. i thought that i wouldn't get that much mic time but in the end everyone probably thought that i was the attention seeker. and maybe i was. but i doubt that they'll forget me. and the fact that i almost have all the lyrics to hit me baby one more time pinned down. and my incredibly big voice.

i was singing it's not unusual and was warbling away at tom jones' last batch of whoa whoa whoas and it hit me...i pulled it off and hung on to the notes. i was decent. i had a chance.

i've got to go back. not necessarily to red box, but i've gotta go back. me and bon jovi have unfinished business.

dada diaries: day 03.

nothing much happened on day 03. went to college to see what was happening with the ball preparations, and then later in the evening, hopped over to the masterful surprise's to help him take some photographs for his assignment.

i was the subject. it's safe to say that his photoshoot was a lot easier than the doctorjob session, where being a fatass was encouraged as opposed to being made over. will hopefully post photos, though essentially, there're photos of me in a hat, lying down on a couch, and (le piece d'resistance) slamming my face into a wall.

it's art, baby.

when burgundy meets scrape.

WARNING: FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO GO TO SYED ABU (FORMERLY NASI KANDAR JELUTONG), THERE IS A GIANT, MASSIVE POTHOLE ON THE SMDJ STRETCH, ON THE LEFT LANE. IT WILL DO DAMAGE. IT WILL HURT. WE'RE TALKING ABOUT CAR CD-PLAYER STOPPING LEVELS OF HURT. CAUTION. THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT.

dada diaries: day 02.

there's nothing more effeminate than having makeup applied to you. whether or not it's foundation, lip gloss or eyeliner, i usually feel somewhat liberated. at this point you'd probably think that i've chucked my inhibitions out the door, but i'm really saying this as a straight guy: makeup rocks!...as long as the person who's applying it to you knows what their doing.

today's photoshoot for the doctorjob.com.my magazine went well enough. they were expecting someone significantly slimmer...i suppose that the old photos that i'd submitted to them had them convinced that i was my 16 year old strapping counterpart. that 65kg'd, 30-inch waisted version of me is done and gone for...temporarily. (i'm trying to comfort myself). the Courses Now! business edition is published bi-annually; it's basically a magazine for business students or aspiring business students. people actually pay money for the magazine, though i've never heard of it prior to today. and i'm one of the two cover boys. cover boy #2 was a lot fitter. and although he didn't show it, i'm pretty sure he had a lot of fun with the makeup. he had rosy cheeks. i was spared that indignity.

the makeup session took place at the gti specialist publishers' offices in seri kembangan. i made a repeat retiming of the alarm each time it went off...6 a.m. became 6:30, which in turn became 7. i prepped 3 sets of formal wear and casual wear each, under the impression that they were gonna snap us in different combinations. i was kinda miffed that we only were gonna be shot in one set. i mean...a striped, purple g2000 shirt deserves notice lah. nonetheless, the shoot itself was alright...it took place outside the bukit jalil stadium, by some weird satellite building. sitting around posing in front of a coke machine is by far the least amount of fun you can have, but at the end of the day, i got fifty bucks, so i really can't complain.

chin up.

lower.

too low! higher.

just right.

and if everything works out, i'm gonna look at least 10 kg lighter on the cover. i pray that i do. i'm hoping for one of those situations where i can lug the magazine around and show it off to people, with the appropriate "is that really you?!" coming out. i can only wish, anyway.

the committee visited the hotel today, and photos were taken. after taking a look at them, i've developed some reservations over the venue. it's a bit small...slightly worrying. there's not a lot of space for performances, and we might have to shift whatever band performances we have down to the dancefloor. and we can only have a dancefloor if we maintain our limit of guests to 200 pax, as opposed to 220 pax. the danger of it is that it deprives people of a dancefloor, but the question to ask is: is a dancefloor necessary?

decisions, decisions.

all in all, what's done is done. the deposit for the venue has been paid, and there's no escape. we probably have to focus on how to enhance the overall environment. the so-called cocktail/waiting area can have some girly frills in it. or whatever encapsulates celestial night in terms of cheap decorations bought at giant. the banquet hall (notice how i'm not calling it a ballroom anymore) might not impress as much as i'd first thought. according to the second batch who'd gone to the hall, it wasn't as extravagant or as grand as melissa had first implied. and not to offend anybody, but the majority usually outweighs the minority. unless you're green day.

one good thing about the banquet hall is its smoke machine, which comes complimentary that night. i'd risk taglining celestial night as a walk in the clouds (i need a copywriter), but it does give a nice feel of being slightly elevated. it's like genting for RM 95. at ground level. oh, fucking joy, eh?

in other news...

my aunt and uncle left for china this morning, leaving the house completely empty save for my other uncle and myself. which basically means i have the chance to run amok for the next week. bless my uncle, he doesn't really care what i do at home.

or...who i bring home.

sigh. you know you love me, yea? here's a massive, massive, MASSIVE wink going out to you.

last night was murni's. tonight is mcD's. heaven help me. i'm not getting any thinner.

dada diaries: day 01.

drove the perdana to murni's.

beat that, father. then again, you'll never know.

learnt of the existence of nasi goreng maryland (fried rice with a maryland chicken - RM 10).

got a photo shoot to go to in the morning. there's some hope for this fat ass yet.

i've realized that ironing clothes is fun...if the clothes look ironed in the end.

bitch of a time for my father to be gone. i sound like a pampered pussy, don't i?

if only i had the money to prove it.

i've been cut.

my father leaves to china for 10 days.

he's already left me a temporary farewell present.

he's scratched the perdana.

i wonder if this is his way of knowing that i won't drive it.

we'll see. oh, we'll see.

to add salt to the wound, he's declared that if the cost of fixing the scratch(es) is too much, he'll just leave the damage on the door, like an old war wound.

dammit.

like a bridge over troubled water.

let's look at it in a very simple way. forget the political or legal implications. let's just go primitive.

by not having the "scenic" bridge built, the government owes the contractor RM 100 million... for a bridge that wasn't going anywhere. it also looked rather dinghy, but again...it wasn't going anywhere. talks with singapore had been straddled for almost a decade, and it was probably apparent in the minds of those involved that nothing was coming out of it. there already is a second link to the island. and again, there was no bilateral stamp of approval.

i suppose that the government was confident of it being built, otherwise there wouldn't have been the risk of the compensation package being so high, no?

no.

a bridge that doesn't go anywhere. maybe we could've gotten off at a point and spat into the singaporean side of the water that separates us, but besides that...there would've been no point. trading sand and airspace for the bridge to be built? doesn't sound like our singaporean friends are open to the idea without benefits...then again, they're singporeans. the miserly bastards. but it's got nothing to do with them, funnily enough.

RM 4.4 billion is meant to be saved from taking away the subsidy. even more money will be saved when the price of fuel eventually pars it way to international prices. but despite the massive injection from these savings, it seems that the government can't quite make up its mind over projects...or, at the very least, investigate the feasibility of such projects.

RM 100 million for a bridge that doesn't go anywhere. and now, RM 100 million is going to be spent on the new CIQ complex (which was originally a part of the un-scenic "scenic" bridge had it been connected to singpoare) to link it to the causeway. yes, a six-lane dual carriageway sounds fantastic, samy. but that's pretty much RM 200 million thrown into the sea. literally.

who profits? the contractor, of course. coz everyone needs money, even the big people...and when the big guns need money, they take it out on the little people. namely, us.

i'm sure that if things had worked out, we would've had a beautiful island crossing by the end of this decade. and i'm sure that in pure malaysian fashion, our government was impulsive to get the ball rolling. it was a rather large ball, though. RM 100 million might not seem like much, but it definitely could've been better spent. your tax dollars at work.

for a bridge that wasn't going anywhere.

it's been two big fumbles, with the sudden petrol hike and the bridge. i doubt that this is going to invoke cries of anarchy to it becoming v for vendetta, but it's just not right. we're being shortchanged again.

happy (belated) birthday, jason.

now you're as old as i am. almost.

have a good year ahead of you, and may you...score.

And then she gets in bed with you.

you fucker. you'll pay.

just kidding, folks. but seriously, how would you react if you found out your best friend was boning your ex-girlfriend? it'd just be bizarre; especially when your friend starts bragging about it...in front of you. i don't mean starting a relationship...i mean reaching the point of the relationship where you'd failed to reach.

ouch, yeah?

your friend's a dynamo in bed. i think it'd hurt twice, thrice, a hundredfold as much if he told you that your ex was equally dynamite.

i'd give the fucker a good bashing. i honestly would.

i mean, given the context, i've possibly fallen into something akin to love with most of the girls i've been with. i've been enamoured. i've been genuinely smitten. so...imagine if your best friend came up to you and told you that he had sex with this person whom you've loved deeply, and that it was good?

the nerve of he.

i mean --- some friends i just don't understand. the funny part is, i bet this happens all the time.

so here's the thing: don't trust your girlfriend with any of the guys you hang around with. in fact, don't even mention that you have one to them. do not disclose it...they don't have to know. i'm not saying that she's a part of your property, but...in one terribly extreme case...imagine what would happen if you found out that your father was fornicating with your ex?

god. i hope it doesn't happen with mine. my father's seen more action that i have, that's for sure. he's one motherfucker (literally).

now, that takes things to a whole new level. a whole new context. imagine a father and son going after the same woman. that'd be a comedy of errors. i don't mean keanu and jack going over diane. i mean something along the lines of that jeremy irons flick where he bangs his son's fiance.

sorry about the post. blame third eye blind for the title lyric.

showering just got fun again.

My jokes are getting tired and lame. I think most of my friends in HELP are sick about hearing how my Landeater can outrun almost any car in Seputeh because of its immunity to speed bumps. I discovered something today…if I become all-out gross and outweird even the weird, I’d have created a whole new me^tm. Today’s been full of dick and fart jokes, and they’ve been contributed from the most unlikely source: Khai Lun. I think he might be sexually repressed, but it’s all in good fun.

Anyway, today was an interesting day at the 8 o’clock Accounting II class (dick and fart jokes aside). I found out about a controversial couple who’re in the same class who couldn’t keep their hands off each other last semester. It reminded me of the days where I craved a relationship like that in college to make my tertiary life more memorable. However, most of the girls I’ve dated have been decent, upstanding citizens in their own right and I never really did push the physical envelope before (that’s one way of putting it). That last statement is a shade of a falsehood, but…we can’t delve too deeply into that. Let’s wait a year. Back to the topic: the boyfriend half of the couple (whom I shall now call “Sor Hai” – literally “Silly Vagina” in Cantonese) looks like…a Sor Hai. In Lionel’s own words, the dude looks a bit retarded, while the girlfriend is a mutual friend’s dreamgirl. I suppose that she’s alright without her specs. They sneaked out during the halftime break for some loving, I think. Those lucky kids. I wish I was in their position.

Almost. But, y’know…that’s one lucky Sor Hai.

Also in today’s news…
---------------------------------
I have a new Panasonic shower system in my bathroom. It makes showering fun again, I swear…basically its nozzle head has six speeds…that’s like a full manual transmission for a Ferrari! And…check this one out…it makes this kickass motor sound.

Which made come up with a list of things I come up with when I shower…

1. What to blog about
2. My lack of conditioner
3. Song lyrics
4. Dinner
5. ******* ***

Yes.

I’ve also learnt that my father doesn’t quite appreciate the music of Van Halen. He’s changed the CDs in the Perdana into something more akin to his tastes…old-school Cantonese and Mandarin numbers. He says that it’s to make me more Chinkified, but the ironic part is, he doesn’t understand what they’re singing about either.

I’ve just come back from Jusco with sushi. And…I think that Jusco has a lot of things that Carrefour doesn’t. Japanese girls…and…more high-quality girls.

I’m going girl-crazy today. It’s quite pathetic, I know, but today’s been a day of repression.

Enough.

That lucky Sor Hai.

the great thunder from on high.

I haven’t been a very good Christian of late. It’s been 3 years since I last set foot into a church, and funnily enough, the last time I’d done so wasn’t specifically for worship. My Bible has been left untouched and it’s now gathering dust in a drawer somewhere. My body, the temple of the Lord has been abused constantly by tar inhalation and I have the occasional urge to sift through my online pornography collection. At the same time, I’ve backslid to an extent that I can safely say that my proverbial spiritual cup is empty and in need of a permanent refill. I’ve stopped saying grace before each meal, whereas in the past I’d said a silent self-prayer because I truly believed in thanking the Dude.

But, before I get lambasted for being one of a number of the lost flock, I can safely say that the underlying principles of it all… love of the Father and what He’s done…are still there. And to reaffirm my own belief, I only need to take a look outside my window. It’s raining, the storm’s an electric one and the wind is pouring down hard. As pretentious as it sounds, there’s beauty in it. There’s really beauty everywhere, everyday. And even if it isn’t specifically my God, I’m pretty sure that life in general builds up whatever faith you have.

Maybe I’m part of a growing number of people who simply don’t have the time for church anymore. Maybe you could call me a failed experiment of sorts. But isn’t faith more of a personal thing, as compared to how I conduct myself to the world at large? Some would say that there’re tenets to be followed and such; I’d say that those dogma-loving hypocrites have as much of an opportunity to get into Hell as I do.

Bravo to you, fuckers! Keep up the good work.

So as Easter comes up, let’s take the time to come together and celebrate what was sacrificed and how it was completed…in our own way. No matter how you look at it, Jesus was truly the world’s first rock star…an accomplishment that nobody else can ever take credit for.

Hail to the King. The One and Only.

(edit: dogma-loving quite literally means dogma-loving, not Dogma-loving. i love Dogma.)

here i come to save the Dave.

nothing happened today. i woke up at 7 to play basketball, and then had breakfast. i have found that i have a future translating english song lyrics into malay. but...that's not much of a future, seeing how the rest of the world speaks english. so no worries there.

just a thought for now: does ntv7 screen late night with david letterman anymore? coz that's one hell of a show. also, if one of the terrestrial channels could get the rights to screen snl...that'd be brilliant. cnbc who?

say jam, sucka.

daughters of the dragon, yo.

alliteration galore.

here's V's opening in the movie. sublime, really:

"This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vangquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.

The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

who would've guessed it was those wachowskis?

v for vendetta.

i can't be bothered to review it. that's a job for reviewers. i just want to know how much of the movie actually had hugo weaving behind the mask. for real, i mean...it's obvious that he didn't do the martial arts or major knifework, but...we'll never know. what a sham, really. what a pity.

but seriously, if you haven't done so, watch the movie.

off the top of my head right now.

1. v for viciousness
2. v for vindication
3. v for voraciousness
4. v for validity
5. v for verification
6. v for virtuosity
7. v for virtuality
8. v for vitamins
9. v for vanity
10. v for violence
11. v for vapidness
12. v for vaginal
13. v for vacant
14. v for vagrant
15. v for virility
16. v for victim
17. v for vitality
18. v for virginity
19. v for vibrance
20. v for vitagen

there we go.

managed to get a banana pie from mcd's today. it left me feeling happy, especially since the last time i wanted it, the masterful surprise and i drove everywhere and didn't find anything. it's like it didn't exist anymore. the new fish mcdeluxe is worthwhile, too...the burger isn't much, but the spicy thousand island sauce is awesome.

i'm going to try finishing up the v for vendetta graphic novel later. now i'm partially obsessed with blowing things up. after all, ideas are bulletproof. sigh.

who wants to bomb the pm's department? maybe we can wear ultraman masks and sarongs. but seriously, i can't understand why the movie wasn't banned in malaysia. it's content sort of begs that question to be asked.
silly censorship board.

i saw tits for the first time on a malaysian screen! granted, it was a corpse, but it was shit enlightening.

is this the beginning of widespread degradation? i hope so.

colleen and misty are gonna put you down. sucka.

doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break.

Celestial
----------------
Pronunciation: s&-'les-ch&l, -'lesh-, -'les-tE-&l
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French, from Latin caelestis celestial, from caelum sky
1 : of, relating to, or suggesting heaven or divinity
2 : of or relating to the sky or visible heavens celestial bodies>
3 a : ETHEREAL, OTHERWORLDLY b : OLYMPIAN, SUPREME
4 capitalized (Celestial Empire, old name for China) : of or relating to China or the Chinese
----------------
Celestial Night. the theme of the Department of Business Studies' Annual Ball for 2006. i should've just listened to carolyn and voted for Summer Romance. but in all fairness, all the themes were under-par. simple, girlie-sounding. overly chinese. even the official theme is. in my capacity as President du jour, you'd think that i'd be able to shoot it down. but i couldn't, because it was basically voted from the shortlist.

i can't really complain over it. i didn't get angry today, and i was even...forgiving. everyone seemed alright and cordial, and everything went on smoothly. now we've got to design promotional materials and soforth. which leads us to question what our own perceptions on the word "celestial" are: for the majority of the design department, it's basically very chinky, with a capital C (shown here for effect).

but i'll just shrug my shoulders, ruffle my hair and manage a smile. with pricing issues smoothened out, and the budget reassessed, everything's almost set. we're meeting the Big Man on Friday afternoon to inform him of our plans and to present the almost-complete divisional proposal. it's so bureaucratic, but it's necessary. i wish he wasn't such a meticulous goat. it'd make our lives easier.

the issue at hand is: will people pay close to a hundred bucks to attend a ball at a hotel they've probably never heard of before? it's a major risk we're taking. previous venues had the benefit of being known. ditto for the shangri-la. but the impiana hotel...sounds so...malay. then again, with the limited seats, it's an exclusive summer's affair.

bollocks.

advantages? we're probably the first academic institution to hold court there.

problems? nobody knows where it is and not a lot of people have heard of it.

and the theme gives me shivers, albeit minor tremors, as opposed to a full-blown case of arthritis.
----------------

just now, a little over midnight, my father called everyone to stare at 2 plates. each plate had a curry puff, and 2 pieces of kuih. it was for ching beng, or all soul's day. i don't wish to disrespect my diseased grandparents, but i couldn't help but laugh to myself (my father would've castrated me if he'd heard audible guffaws) about how funny it was staring at those 2 plates while being encouraged to say something to them "from the heart".

my father's turning into a sensitive man.

then again, he left a special mention for my mom's parents, which he was under no obligation to do.

i can't say that i really miss my grandparents. i didn't know them well enough; distance, years spent away from home...whatever excuses that i can muster up. my grandmother was already paralyzed when i'd returned to kuala lumpur. and that was ages ago.

though i do miss my grandfather's constant swearing. i think the hakkas do it better than the hokkien (even though i'm a closet hokkien). my father told me stories about how my grandmother had pushed me in the tram to watch the trains pass by when i was a toddler. i can't remember any of that.

i've been accused of not putting the family ahead of myself in the past. can i really blame myself for being selfish when everyone else around me is just as bad as i am...if not worse? i remember this letter i'd written to my father once which was basically a big fuck you to the family. he bombed back stating that it was due to the evil machinations of my mother. it could've been, i don't deny it. but at the same time, there're also some seeds of truth to what i'd said, and some justification to what i'd done.

the sad part is, these sad fuckers are the only family i have.

damn.

the day i was dethroned.

i'm a bit hesitant to attend today's ball organizing committee meeting...probably because i'm not going to like what i hear. or see. or because i'd let myself be agitated. or deliberately put on a sulky face and find trouble with whoever i can or whenever i see fit. with a mood like that, i'm not exactly going to be mr. personality. it's almost dawn now, and i just woke up from a biz council dream. a fucking biz council dream. about the fucking ball.

i don't want to go into details, but i was extremely pissed off throughout the dream. there was also a bed and sex under sheets (literally) which just added even more of a bizarro effect to it all. and in the end, nothing got resolved and i just screamed myself into ending the dream.

sounds silly, doesn't it? i don't feel any stress from it, but i've been edgy and skittish since monday. i can't even play basketball without shouting at people.

maybe it's because i feel sidelined. and that the majority of the committee isn't around. or maybe it's because my scalp still feels itchy despite tireless shampooing. you be the judge.

some people have come to me saying how uncomfortable the whole experience is. and i agree. this shit is meant to be fun. it just feels draggy. i've complained about events and all this rubbish before. and i'm not even on par with the real professionals who get paid for the rubbish, the ones i want to emulate. we're still in university. we should just lighten up.

on the bright side, it can only get better.

yay.
----------------------------------
thanks to lionel for sending me the photo. fisichella chases a burning button. i just had to put it up. the comedy value and coolness factor was just too high to resist.

spaceman fucked an ape.

everyone says that although mankind has evolved tremendously since the days of the prehistoric, we're still ravaging beats on the inside. but the fact is this: man is an animal that cannot, and will not, be contained.

murderers.

rapists.

soldiers.

politicians.

Michael Jackson.

but, jokes aside, there's nothing more unsettling than seeing someone you know so well regress into a state that...shouldn't be them.

i've seen the masterful surprise do a hulk smash! once. my mother went crazy before my very ears. i've had friends who've abused themselves because of low self-esteem.

me? i get angry, most of the time, which people don't see very often because i'm quite accomodating in becoming the butt of jokes, being the original swankster i am.

yesterday, i raised my voice and blew a bit of my top in trying to make a point during a council meeting. i was annoyed, agitated, and a bit flabbergasted as to what was being done. so my apologies to everyone who was there yesterday who were a bit miffed at me.

you faggots deserved it.

no-lah, just kidding. you know i love you all.

don't fuck up. or i swear my fat, smelly spirit will haunt you in the underworld. with singing.
-----------------------------

my father finally shaved off his makeshift moustache earlier this morning. he's now back to being clean-shaven.

on the subject of hair (facial or thereof), i'm seriously considering cutting my hair. all of my long, luscious locks. into something a good deal shorter. but the condition is i've got to grow a goatee out. i don't know how it's going to work, but yea.

apparently looking scruffy isn't so pleasing to most eyes.
-----------------------------

5:1? 2:1? in a few days, i'll ultimately know. looking at it now, whatever happens, happens. there's no use crying over milk that hasn't spilt yet.

there's nothing worst than two people who can't get anything out of their mouths. tongue-tied? or would the truth be too sore for one of them? or even both?

i'm still waiting.

it's gotta be melbourne!

so happy, no?

klien's first impact.

close-up of klien, prior to the second impact.

massa's massive shunt.

montoya walks away dejectedly after stalling.

the 2006 australian grand prix was fun. both ferraris crashed out, webber took the lead, pitted and stalled. monty's car shut down for no apparent reason after he navigated a slip brilliantly. and there were 4 safety car call-outs over 10 laps...2 of those were successive. oh, and did i mention that jenson button drove his car, despite it being on fire? it happened on the final corner of the final lap. he could've salvaged at least 2 points if he'd pushed, but the team thought otherwise. apparently they didn't want to cost him a 10 place penalty at imola. oh, well.

3 weeks to the next one.

jenson v alonso.

i can't wait for today's race.

JPII.

john paul II. truly one of God's better people. it's been almost a year.

everyone's an April Fool.

i was never the most academically gifted child. i lived life in high school thinking that i could make up for it in college. i lived life in college thinking that i could make up for it in university. i lived life in university thinking that i could make up for it the following semester. and the vicious cycle continues from there.

it's hard to be intelligent when you're downright lazy. and it's not really reassuring when they're other people who're just as lazy as you, yet score the highest grades. for years i've heard the talk about not studying hard, but studying smart. for the life of me, i have no idea what it all means --- because if i had a choice, i wouldn't be studying at all.

for example:-

• i'd rather be working with the poor and needy in africa.
• i'd rather be backpacking around the world alone.
• i'd rather be running an animal shelter for abandoned pets.
• i'd rather be making out with a starlet.

all these options above (apart from the latter) are all within my grasp. if i only took the initiative.

(actually, if you think about it, even the latter wouldn't be beyond my grasp if i worked a little harder.)

right now, as i listen to better than ezra beseech God to save the king of new orleans, i've come to the conclusion that i need a little bit of saving myself. i suppose that it's half the battle won by doing so. it'd mean much more, however, if i didn't say it to myself every. fucking. day.

but have you ever felt that life was one big drag, from life to death? when i die, and look back, i wonder what it would've been that i'd actually achieved in life that nobody else had. we're all bound to have families. we're all bound to support them in one way or another. and life would be peachy. i just wonder if there'd be that one thing that separates me from the rest of the pack. because honestly, it's that one thing we live for in life. everything else is just expected.

aren't we suppose to live for something greater? no amount of education can really teach you how to do that. no amount of As on your exam slips are going to prepare you for it. the fact is, sooner or later we're going to be stuck in a rut, where we'd be void of any opportunities for self-enrichment.

let's see you climb Everest when you're trying to help the corporation achieve its key performance indicators.

isn't impossible supposed to be zero?

why can't i believe in it?

life has us fooled. even if i've done everything within my power not to live a simple life, i'm still going to die. the sad part is, death is probably the most honest thing you could find in life. the one thing that truly is supposed to be.

help me out, brother. i don't want to die.