Tuesday, October 31, 2006

once again...again.

yep, john legend's back, and it's just as good as the first. attain it immediately. seriously.

anyway, here's something that i didn't realize until 2 days ago...the successful detonation of a bomb in counter-strike (at least in condition zero) will add three frags to the bomber's tally. nifty. but that's information most of you would've already known. or wouldn't bother knowing.

when i die, i want to come back as a dog. a loyal, sturdy canine, who's brought into a good home, and who gets fed everyday and gets bathed twice a week. i'd want to be a golden retriever.

it's a pity that animals are only programs in the matrix. they can't really plug in the real things since most of the world's animals are already dead, save that monkey in matriculated, which also died in the end. but, if you could get plugged back into the matrix as an animal, what animal would it be?

Monday, October 30, 2006

sexyback in full effect.

i was doing alright prior to the charity bazaar. but after that, with the holidays added up, i've gained as much weight as i've lost. add the fucking rain to it everyday and i can't exercise.

i want to have a weight disorder.

i'm going to call one in.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

call me a bigot, but...

i woke up this morning with the stirring realization that my life wasn't interesting enough for people to read about and be instantaneously enthralled with.

it dawned on me that i'd been in a constant state of denial over how appealing my life had been. i could've named five other people with lives that appeared fulfilling; lives that i'd traded with in a heartbeat.

however.

i wouldn't want to wake up tomorrow morning as a woman.

and so i felt assured, and went back to sleep.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

it was inevitable.

what a difference a few hours can make. i've gotten my hair cut to buzzcut proportions, and i've just watched the matrix revolutions for the fifth time. to be honest with you, i do like the movie...but i hate the ending.

lovelight and other great tales.

holidays mean so much more when they're set on weekdays. there's no point in enjoying something if it's the norm, no? the last week has been phenomenal, to say the least; i've achieved nothing, wasted RM 15 on games that don't work, and i feel mighty proud about it. but when monday comes (sunday night, even) life resumes it's regularly scheduled programming and it's back to...well, it's not back to work but, yeah.

though this news may have come a little too late, my aunt was a victim of a snatch thief on sunday. her story was highlight in monday's edition of the star, as well as tuesday's edition of the sin chew jit poh. she had parked somewhere near petaling street, and as she was locking the door of her car, a rider came out of nowhere and grabbed her handbag. she held on, and was dragged for a few feet before letting go. she only scraped her elbows and knees, and received outpatient treatment at the university hospital after lodging her police report.
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anyway, for those of you who've heard discouraging things about robbie's new album, rudebox, take no heed of them. rudebox is as much robbie as you can get...even more so. he's covered a song called lovelight in the album, originally performed by lewis taylor...which is a brilliant song that nobody's heard of.

the album, in a whole, is a mix of electronica, hip hop, and...80s kitsch disco. at times. but it sounds a lot better than it looks on paper. trust me.
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watch the prestige. you'll come away going "what the fuck?!", and feel utterly satisfied. i promise you. but don't hear it from me...here's a reliable source who'd say the same thing:

an anachronism of sorts. not everyone knows who ziggy stardust is. but seriously, if bowie's in it, it's not that bad at all. and he's brilliant as tesla. don't forget, we also have hugh jackman, christian bale, scarlet johanson (i can never spell her name correctly), michael caine...it's just begging for a viewing. and we get to see piper perabo all wet. awesome, no?

awesome, yes!
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i usually don't mind saturdays, but this is the bookend (at the wrong end) of a great period of personal rehab for me. fuckin' boo.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

if i leave you, it doesn't mean i love you any less.

i like being around people who aren't miserable. it makes me forget about my own feigned troubles, and it gives me a reason to be happy. people with long faces piss me off. i don't like hanging around them because i can't pilfer their inner chi. and i can't be bothered to tell them to turn that frown upside down coz i don't have anything that could remotely help, i.e., prozac.

i like chatty company. i like people who i can identify with. my problem is that i'm picky...if i have this perception that someone isn't going to get me, or vice versa, there's a smaller chance that i'd be genuine in front of them. yes. i'm that bad.

i can hear you asking: "what makes you so interesting, tai?" i don't know. but if you're my friend, you should be lucky that i feel that i can identify with you, as opposed to being modest and depriving you of my companionship and quick wit. the fact that i even sit next to you to you should mean a lot.

but you people don't know that.

d'you why?

that's coz you're all cunts.

you fail to see past yourselves, past your problems and troubles. the world is much more than you, my friend.

the world is us. and don't you fucking forget that. go ahead and embrace a friend today. i guarantee you won't feel sorry about it.

Monday, October 23, 2006

an open letter to michael schumacher.

i have to say it: thank you, michael schumacher. i suppose that it's too late, but i can see now why so many people have entrusted their very souls in you. while i lived in ridicule for supporting teams such as williams and mclaren, i always considered my friends who supported you and your ilk as glory chasers. but, ironically, at the end of it all, i've been proven wrong. thank you, thank you, thank you. you are the man.

sure, you might've taken damon out. the same for jacques, all those years ago. i mean, come on; williams, my friend.

but today, you proved that you'd never back down from a fight, no matter how unsurmountable the odds.

i'm not even going to bother posting photos of the race because they wouldn't do you justice. i'm sincerely proud of being able to witness your final race, and i'm gloating at the fact that i can tell my grandchildren that i watched michael schumacher's last race, despite them probably associating the statement with senility.

i'd also like to take the chance to bring upon why i love formula one like i do; it's not just about fast cars, going around in circles. it's about the blood, sweat and tears invested into building the perfect racing machine, and the men bold enough to stake their lives on it. man and machine meld into one. poetry in motion.

the technical aspects are just an aspect of it. formula one requires regimented discipline and training that us ordinary folk could never aspire to adhere to. formula one is a prime example of man at his very best: pushing all limits and breaking through.

and you, herr schumacher, are the prime example of what racing excellence is. i wish you all the best.

you really do know how to drive with your pants on fire.

my generation salutes you for 16 years of gleeful madness.

thanks for the memories.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

random early morning mullings.

i love holidays, but my finals are three weeks away and i'm hardly prepared. and i'm only sitting for two papers. it should be a cakewalk for the initiated, but, as usual, i'm signing on the dotted line for the express bus for eternal damnation. the (non)revelation that my cgpa is too low even for the menialest of menial jobs hasn't quite settled in yet, because of a certain parachute that'll take me out of harm's way...a job with either HELP's admin or Marketing staff. oh god. five long years, only to be capped off with a few more.

however, there's hope. for starters, helen didn't fare too well either, yet she had an internship with mediacorp, only to quit (the silly cow). i could probably actually enjoy my time offering movie and music reviews, but i suppose that only teenyboppers read lime. that, and i'm convinced that my only true exemplarary piece of teenybopper cred is actually knowing who bed and breakfast are. besides that, i'm just as into teenybopperism as anyone else. i dug Take That (i can see some of you younglings going 'take who?'), though that the backstreet boys were simply classier than *nsync, and am belatedly appreciating the wonders of Girl Power that the spice girls wreathed upon us.

which leads me to ask: are the Click Five really a perfect fit between a rock group and a boyband? the moffatts didn't quite cut it for me (Dave's the gay one!...the shock, the horror; on another note, i can imagine some of you going 'mofo-who?'). either way, thank god for emrie house.

back to my point.

i cannot work at HELP, but, looking at how i'd be starting from the ground up in (very) familiar surroundings, i shouldn't really complain much. education's a lucrative field......if you run the damn thing.

which brings to mind the fact that, out of the many professions i've professed to prefer, rock superstar is still #1 on my list. hell, i'd even be willing to turn sexually ambiguous for it, if it guaranteed multi-platinum albums, smash singles and a house in the Hills. but, woe, that'd mean selling my soul to the devil, and as i found out from james brown, i don't want to fuck with gary oldman.

(i think only one person here would even understand that reference).

either way, graduating would be preferable. and how'm i suppose to graduate? step one would be to clear the papers i have that're three weeks away. then we'll talk.
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don't you just hate it when you meet a person over a few days, up to the point where he or she becomes obnoxiously close to you, and before you know it, hands you their number, says sayonara and something short of 'see you around if our paths cross'. now, mind you, you've got the number, but you don't quite know what to do or how to initiate any further encounters without looking like a total cad.

when's the appropriate post-meet time to contact them? a week? two? three?

i remember after meeting elaine for that first night, many christmas parties ago, she called me up within three days (i was a lot thinner then) and asked me out. no effort required on my part, aside from continuously calling her to get the flow going. the ins and outs of it all, you might say. we dated for a year++, within periods of her leaving me for Jesus and then coming back coz her mother said it was okay. but i am cool with elaine, and we used to talk until last year.

if you're married already, el, congratulations, and i hope the baby grows up to be taller than you.

anyway, what's the etiquette around this? with number in hand, and cell credit fully loaded, what're you gonna do, punk? or do you lack the balls to see it through? it's not like it's a date, is it? isn't that why you're calling, though? for a date?

what's it gonna be, punk?

a) "oh, y'know, i'd really like to see you again. i didn't really get a chance to know you those few days, and i think it'd be great to get to know you better".
b) "do you like mojitos?"
c) "um.......i think we might make a good match".
d) "i like pink thongs. especially on women".

it's endless, the things you can say.
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here's the lowdown for how interlagos is gonna start, as briefly as i can.

massa = pole. alonso = fucker. schumi = 10th (possibly 20th if they change his engine). once again, when he needed it, ferrari reliability just wasn't there. who's gonna beat alonso now?
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i feel that a certain sector of my life has gone to the shits and stayed there.

i believe that there's a lot of fun brewing my way if i'm diligent and patient.

i also like bacon. a lot.

the best part of being single is the fact that you're open to alternatives. you've got opportunities. options. choices. variety.

what happens when you've mowed yourself into a wall with another eye on a glimmering, shimmering hope?

you're in the shits, that's what you're in.

now, how do you get out of the shits? you can't play your cards right. you don't have a poker-face anymore. you've dug a hole so big that you can't get out of. you're in the Hotseat. oh yeah, you're not exactly at gary oldman proportions but you feel that you're getting there. and it isn't good.

what're you gonna do, punk?

why do i associate sex with love? for example: if i was with someone who fucked someone without any emotional attachments to him, why'm i prone to feel very, very uneasy with it? now, it's the fucking...if she was simply dating him behind my back, i'd feel more than comfortable. despite the reassurances that it meant "nothing", why would i still have that hinge of queasiness?

or is it just me?

could i touch her the same way? could i bring myself to? would i be repulsed at how she'd feel that she was guiltless in that sense? would i feel inadequate? would i feel that i'd have to live up to a benchmark of sorts? would i wish to be jay kay?

kids these days.

and i thought that worrying over plucked nose hairs was bad. uh. yes, i do pluck my nose hairs. uh. sometimes.

does it come down to that inertia cost again? just not wanting to move? staying in the same place, hoping for a change, only...heaping your hopes on nothing in the end.

i suppose, that if you walk into the saloon with doubts, you wouldn't come out alive.

but honestly: is there anyone left that i can trust?
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i miss it when my world was bright and sunny and not sepia-tinged. all i had to worry about back then was being 17. and 18. and 19.

all i want to be is...to feel happy. and complete. and content. i wish i could meditate on it but i'm scared that i'll see things that i don't want to see. when i was younger, i'd imagine that Jesus was chasing me in the dark. funny, but utterly, true. i'd imagine that he was going to grab me and force me to atone for my sins simply because i wouldn't willingly admit to them. and it made me guilty. it still does, even though i've stopped feeling scared to look behind my shoulder whilst walking in the dark.
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the tribe has spoken. you can go about your business. these aren't the droids we're looking for.

stormtroopers, huh?

Saturday, October 21, 2006

the one with the charity bazaar.

i just like the sign. i don't know why.

felicia and lionel.

phillipe, swee siang, lionel; faiz and carolyn (background!) at the "music" booth.

another great sign. seriously. i don't know why it appeals to me.

phil, jason and carolyn prepping the food.

um. sorry, couldn't resist.

the henna girls from the one academy.

day one: lots of people.

i'm not quite sure what hazman is doing, but, hey!

denise at work.

the boyz.

two guys, a girl and a hot dog stand.

the accounting club grllz (seriously this academic society has almost no men except for jeremy).

the accounting club booth.

caramel fudge, brownies and tau foo fah on sale.

awwwwwwwww.

felicia's henna hand.

he never misses.

a dry denise is a happy denise.

meanwhile, inside...
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henna girls and manicurists...

and...uh...caricature boys....

...bring oodles and oodles of joy.
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um. good job, everyone? but seriously, it was probably a lot better than most of them had expected. hats off to everybody for a great job. in a true "aw, shucks" moment, i'd just like to say that it was a lot of fun. i'd like to give a big hug to denise, but she'd probably take it the wrong way and knee me in the balls. i'm not sure what happens now, but the project runs into christmas, so it's not quite over yet. however, half the battle's been won, and...well...you all should be proud of yourselves for being able to make killer hot dogs. the highlight of the three days must've been those One Academy girls. though thinking about it now, i'm not quite sure that they were actually from the One Academy.
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happy deepavali to all my niggers. despite the fact that you people talk funny, smell bad, light firecrackers at the worst times and generally wreck havoc throughout my quite, uppity urban neighbourhood, i still love you all. no hard feelings, yeah?

may this festival of lights bring you much-needed cheer.

my father has warned me not to go out and play basketball, football, and even walk; the haze, to him, is that bad. i'd hate to break it to him that i smoke, but i shan't for now. though i think he suspects. i come back from college in a smoke-induced stupor, after all. my clothes reek of it. though i can't quite say that he's a master of the five senses.

happy birthday (party) to carolyn! although your birthday's on monday (i think i'm correct), i've got the perfect birthday present for you...and i'm sure you're either going to love it, burn it, or share it with other people to love. see? i just don't think about one person...i think about all.

before you hoop me for singing my own praises (but who doesn't?), i better leave.
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would you rather be vince vega (john travolta in pulp fiction) or vic vega (michael madsen in reservoir dogs)?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

dog'd and dunk'd.

carolyn and jason fight over a hot dog. a double-packed brother and sister bust-up of miniscule proportions (the look on carolyn's face at being told "no" is priceless). by the way, her hot dogs are good.
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lionel wong gets dunk'd!
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yvonne gets dunked! (who would've imagined?)
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jin (i never get his name right so i'll just call him this from now on) gets dunk'd!
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phillipe gets dunked!
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more about the charity bazaar tomorrow. enjoy the vids, people.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

try to make this cohesive.

banana split. managerie. anthropology. van wilder. custard. maggi. modem. flux. flexed. barf.
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i'm a picky fellow. i like having things my way, and if i don't have things my way, i usually try to make them go my way.

i'm also a very tired fellow. the statistics assignment is all but done and dusted and i can catch up on needed rest. and watch lost and boston legal without feeling too guilty.

i'm quite relieved that we've got a one week break next week.

one more month, eh?
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i don't know what i'm saying here. i've got to post it so that it looks like i care.

call it a case of writer's block, but nothing seemed to inspire me today. the first thing i did when i came home was to sleep; i woke up at 1 to find my father frantically typing away to his ladylove, the exact same thing that he was doing when i came home.

young love, huh?

i don't really know how he keeps it all together. she's in taiwan, yet he's willing to commit himself to it, fully knowing well that it might not work out the way he's got planned. i take a look at it and i'm a bit envious...they've been "together" since laos, and that was almost a decade ago. scary, isn't it?

makes you think about what you can achieve if you keep at it.

i still think what my father did was wrong, but he's past his prime and he should be just left alone to grump it out. i wish that i could invest as much as him into a relationship that risks falling apart at the slightest notice, but i can't. i suppose that being the picky and tired fellow i am, i'm probably more prone to using logic to sort through these issues out. it's terrible to get older and start using your head more, but i suppose that we all have to start somewhere.

i was never one for safe relationships but ended up with good, stable, (dare i use the word and offend 5 girls i used to know) generic girlfriend material. okay, except for one, but that was only because she could've been delusional at times. you'd think that things like these would last, but they don't. there's always a third dynamic to it...and it's that third dynamic that should usually be begotten or thrown away when it first appears, as opposed to letting it grow before submitting to it.

relationships aren't about people. they're about situations --- right situations, wrong situations, but nonetheless. if the timing's right, or if the mood is good, you've got a fit. and then you work to maintain that situation, regardless of the variables.

i'm not ashamed to say that i can't really handle situations. things always seem to spiral out of control when it comes to me. and i'm supposed to be the level-headed one.

find yourself a west end girl.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

ears.

i remember how li-vern's mother had advised her family (which was basically alex, li-vern's stepdad, and li-vern) to go for some sort of aqua-cleansing process (i can't remember what it's called anymore). part 1 involved sucking up all the wax and dirt from your eat; part 2 was a bit trickier...a tube would be stuck up your anus and water would fill it up, and then be subsequently sucked out. now, any normal person would probably have questioned the logic behind it. but i quite liked the idea of the first part of the wellness programme.

i have this obsession with keeping my ears clean. i think it started when i was a boy in new york...one day, i stuck a pencil tip up my ear and then something small, yet brown, came out. it was as if i'd found buried treasure. years later, my father even encouraged me more by purchasing gargantuam amounts of cotton buds whenever i'd visit him overseas. and i'd use them. we all know that it's not safe to place cotton buds into the aural cavity. but i do it, and i scrub that bud around, oblivious to the risk. i'm still alive today, and not hard of hearing (not yet, anyway) so i suppose that it's not that bad.

these days, i've found more things to do to occupy my time. cotton buds don't excite me as much as when i was 10. but every now and then, i pop one in, for old time's sake. call it a bad habit, if you will, but everyone has to indulge themselves once in a while. it's just comforting.
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why do they call a lazy susan...a lazy susan? nobody really knows. a lazy susan is better known as a dumbwaiter in england. why's it called a dumbwaiter? your guess is as good as mine.

anyway, the API (air pollution index) seems to be stable. here's TMS' partial artistic impression of giant fans erected around kl:

it seems so surreal, yet grounded in reality.

and here's the first (outdated) intro for the infiltrator3. i'll be posting up the first infiltrator movie (think of it as an amateur 5 minute spy movie with very stylish filming techniques) once i grab it off TMS.


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fat spies die easily. avenge me!

which bond would win an arm wrestling match against ethan hunt?

Saturday, October 14, 2006

i don't want to sleep with you but i'd like to have some fun.

had this dream. i was on a date. it was a HELP event except that it wasn't really held at HELP...it was...well, my mom's place, except the compound was much bigger. the house was in the middle of this relatively very open area.

suddenly...

there was this guy with a samurai sword with the qualities of a boomerang and he gutted down all my friends as i watched in terror. by this time i had jumped over the fence and watched from a distance, leaving my date behind (standard tai behaviour).

the masterful surprise survived a direct slash to the abdomen and followed me as i ran around. then this other guy came and followed us and then a cop ran into us and i told him that the guy wasn't the one he should've been after. the guy then smiled and shot the cop, then looked at us. we ran. the masterful surprise was shot and died.

anyway, i was being chased by these dudes and a girl with guns. it was a shootout. i avoided all the bullets shot (the chick even managed to do a crab stretch and her aim was dead on) until...well, i woke up.

weird.
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john mayer. sheryl crow. need i say more? visit his blog for a great, great lowdown on the berkley college curriculum.

i want one.

call me superficial, but if bono's peddling it and says it's for a good cause, then it's for a good cause.

Friday, October 13, 2006

vagabonds and vixens unite.

maybe it was the coffee. but today was a truly strange day. it was a grey day (blame it on the haze). everyone around me was driving like an idiot. i was on autopilot constantly. even driving was dangerous. i'm not so tired anymore but i can't wait for slumber tonight. imagine walking around, knowing that you should be dead, yet you've been granted one last push at it. i was a walking zombie today. i haven't felt this braindead in a very, very long time.
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carolyn loh as the ringgu girl-demon. i think. the things we do when we don't do anything, eh?
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for those of you who'll be at the HELP area on monday to wednesday (theo, lisa, and everyone else), the charity bazaar will be on at the area in front of kpd a. come and grab some food. it's for a good, legitimate cause. i swear.
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anybody know how to use spss? i'll pay you to do my assignment. seriously.

arghh arghhh arghhh arghhhhhhhhhh.

remind me never to start on an assignment at the last minute.

got one due today. as in friday. as in i've been up the whole night. as in i didn't start prior to last night.

and another one on monday. which i haven't started on. which involves SPSS. which i haven't used before.

joy.

coffee is good.
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for you guys who know: would you rather do namorita or disney's version of ariel, the little mermaid?

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

camwhoria, camwhoria.















yes. i have nothing better to do when i grab a camera.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

candlelight and soul forever.

you can't go wrong with 2 become 1. it's a ridiculously good song from the last group i should be springing accolades to (i'm meant to be the musical credibility snob, yea). i can see one or two people snickering to themselves.

maybe it's that sensual tempo. or the low harmonies telling me to "get it on". i'm not sure what it is. i remember liking the video. as well as mel c.

mel c on the far left. awesome! (way back then).

where did it all go wrong, no?
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leave your masculinity at the door.

i don't know if i should cut my hair or leave it long. i wish i had a long face and a smaller head. i want to wear a fedora without looking like a turd.

i've also always wanted to learn how to grow enough stubble to look moderately cool without looking too mangly. like josh holloway. messy, yet undeniably manly.
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i didn't go to college today. i've opted to go for thursday's tutorial. i really wanted to stay home and lie in bed. most of my friends have asked if me i could really just stay at home all day and not do anything if i was paid for it. their argument would be that there'd be no self-fulfillment. but, really...getting paid oodles to do nothing but stay online all day and be a bum. how gratifying is that? how can you not say no? i'd have time to do the things i really want to do, like read comics, record music, watch television and offer critiques.

granted, reading comics is somewhat juvenile, my songs aren't very good, there's nothing to watch on television anyway and i'm not very articulate ala siskel and ebert but come on...life's worth waiting for.
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a pessismist is never disappointed.

would you lick sophie's boots? i would. for sophie.

your place or mine?

whatever happened to the freewheeling girls of yesteryear? nowadays, you've got more and more girls either griping about or craving for the joys of monogamy and love...a pity that the naughty girls have gotten uglier while the angels have either been reserved, booked or taken. no matter how cold the demeanour, every girl i know is a sucker for love. promises of a future can only go so far before you realize the chances of him popping a ring on your finger in seven years are as low as Namor finally grasping sanity on land.

it's no small wonder why women these days are turning renegade. if the best person who can understand your needs happens to be from your own gender, then why not just go for it? phallicery (if there is such a word) can be overcome by various toys and electronics that both women could simultaneously enjoy. need a baby?...artificial insemination. women are more thorough with their money so there'd be more than enough tucked away for a rainy day. plus there's that matter of multiple orgasms (i suppose there's nothing more appealing than quivering vigorously repeatedly simultaneously with your partner).

sometimes you have to wonder why some women don't understand how good they've got it. things like these make me feel proud to be a man. despite their peripheral vision, level-headedness and apparent maturity, there's always that occasion where every woman bitches about everything at once. it's as if they're allergic to life.

bring out those freewheelers who only cared about sating their own libidos. they'd spin a web worth weaving. and they'd be good company.

i am a chauvinist. if people like me weren't around, the world would be more pussywhipped than it already is. stand up for your rights. we are men. and men is what we are.
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there is no point to what i've written above. disregard it, if you must. on with the show.

lacking balls? drink some tuak, the equivalent of Rempit Joy Juice. click here for details. apparently it brings about a new high, and grants our Kapchai-toting friends...peripheral vision.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

it isn't over until it's over.

is it over?
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the only way that schumacher can win the world title is if alonso retires in brazil along with schumi winning the race.

"I don't want to head off for a race, hoping that my rival has to retire. That is not the way in which I want to win the title". well said. but seeing that he's said it, would it be too much to ask if he could end his career by crashing into alonso? for old time's sake?

i mean, look at this guy:

even with the helmet on, he's still annoying.
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aside from kissing schumacher's title chances goodbye, we also have to bid adieu to suzuka. formula one moves to the fuji raceway next year, and we're going to see much less of one of the world's favourite tracks. from the r130 to the ferris wheel, nothing tops a championship decider like suzuka. it's proved its worth once again this year, and it's going to be sad to let it go.

next up is interlagos: i hope alonso retires. mathematically, if he does conk out and if schumacher wins the race, schumi wins the championship on the merits on winning more races despite being level on points.

let's pray.