Go Away

I'd appreciate it if you stop reading my blog. Yes, you. You know who you are. You can't seem to seperate what's reality and what's written here. You make assumptions of me based on this site and take what I write here too seriously. You don't even know me. I've said it before, I'll say it again.

Here, whatever that goes on here stays here. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want you to even mention anything from here. And when you read this, don't even say a word. Just do it.

Rather than we part ways in real-life, its better we part ways here.

Deal?

Time-out

You know you need some time-out when…

You have a nice cold drink on the balcony, seated, with your feet up and you notice your toe nails are in need of some cutting. Then you head inside, turn on the lights at full, pick up the cutter and start cutting.

5 minutes into cutting, you realize you’re cutting your fingernails instead, even though it’s still ridiculously short (because you had just cut it last week). And you can’t stop because you’ve already done one hand.

Yeah.
Time-out, alright.

The Wedding Card Crew

It’s now all out in the open (finally),

I just think it’s worthy of at least an entry.
While we were folding, cutting, trimming and tying the wedding cards, Ju got fired 3 times by Annie. Of course, Annie is one tough quality control person, dubbed the Head Mistress.

“I dunno how to tie ribbon lah. Too feminine for me!”
*Fired*

Argh! I dunno how to cut that recycled paper! Sure bengkok!
*Fired*

“Ju!” Annie yells, “You cut the ribbons too long liao! Argh!”
Ju gave her a really sad pathetic/disappointed look, “Errr…”
*Fired*

In the end, she landed herself a job that suits her best. Sticking the ribbon on the back of the recycled paper. Still, she almost got fired from that too.

Here’s the “Wedding Card Crew”:

Meng "The Designer" – Cutting the huge-ass recycled paper into smaller pieces.
Ryan "The Host" – Sticking the invitation card onto the recycled paper and folds them.
Zach “The Groom” – Cutting ribbons
Ju "The Clueless One" – Sticking ribbon at the back of the folded recycled paper
Annie "The Monica" – Tying ribbons, quality control and the one that fires Ju.

Featuring Tuck, what did he do ah? Apart from doing his classic Cheng E-Kin poses by the pool talking on the phone.

All this was by the pool side of Ryan's apartment. Tables which you must not shake or move because the army of ants will scatter in ant-rev-party style.

Playing Dead

This bloody sucks man. Liz has been playing dead the whole damn day. I haven't been this depressed since...errr...a long time lah.

Fuck lah, I dunno what am I gonna do without Liz.



Ahh! She's back!
Oh well. All is good.

Laters.

Langkawi III: Pictures!

To be continued...

Langkawi III: No Sense, All Laughs

Piz Off!

I received an email from my sis.
Apparently, in Pizza Hut, upon paying for your meal. Do take a good look at what the receipt states.

Apart from the usual stuff (meals, drinks, no. of person, bill no. etc), you’d notice there this little space labelled, RACE.

Some malay chick and her friends noticed and paid up. Everything was normal except that they aren’t subjected to service and tax charges.

Here’s the pickle,
Any other races have to pay. WTF?!

So what the hell is going on man?

2 Drinks

As the bartender walks over to them, placing 2 glasses of Malibu on their table, they look back, rather hesitantly to our direction. We raised our mugs and air-cheers.

After taking a rather small gulp and placed my mug back on to the coaster, I whispered to Ryan, “Dude, now what?”

“Err, I dunno lah. How?” he responded as if that was all we were gonna do.

“Should we go over and talk to them? I mean, I think that’s should be the obvious next step.” I suggest.

But yet again, they have already saw us acting like a bunch of 18 year olds who has never drank before, downing mug after mug, loud talking within the bunch and making random jokes that if you weren’t in the group, wouldn’t make sense.

Ryan raised his freshly poured golden liquid and took a huge gulp, “Maybe we should wait for their respond?” placing his mug on the bar, “I mean, they might think that we are just a bunch of horny fuckers, fishing for a lay.” Suggesting we should just keep it cool.

In the midst of all this confusion, Tuck has been constantly bombarding us with his ideas and suggestions. Do that, do this, go here, go there. And something about their boyfriends driving BMWs. Where the hell did that came from?

"Whatever it is Tuck, don't go over there and talk to them for us! You're too drunk already," I said to Tuck, "We might even get arrested!"

We turn to Amy, for a second opinion and for some insights.

“When things like this happens to me ah, I usually won’t even layan them!”

“What?!” Now you tell us this? If that’s the case with most girls, why didn’t you warn us earlier? That Malibu was RM11 for one, man! “But I mean, what if you were into him, would you respond?”

“Err, usually I won’t lah, but it depends also lah, some girls react differently,” she explains.

And we also have to establish to Mark, that his suggestions are only fit for movies and are to cheesy and corny for reality.

We constantly look back at them, it didn’t look so convincing. Always on the phone. They were on the phone so religiously if it should run out of battery, they would just fall flat on the ground and gasp for air, maybe even rolling down the mini staircase, knocking someone else down along. Then I would have to dial 991 (because I was the only one on post-paid phone plan) and do CPR on them. I could imagine Ryan jumping right into the scene, pressing their chest and blowing air into their mouth. “Come on girls! Live dammit! Live!” he would scream in drama. “Nooooooo…” and the water sprinklers would spray water.

“We didn’t really thought this thru, did we?” says I, “We should go lah, just go and sit with them!”

Then they stood up, head straight to the counter, holding their bill.

“Dammit! They’re leaving already lah!”

“(Aaaaarrffhhhh) Act cool, act cool!”

They walk up slowly behind us, smiling; one patted Ryan’s back, while the other grazed me right at the very end of my spine, about an inch or two above my tailbone. It makes me wonder, why there? Am I too tall? Is it a sign?! What should I do? Waaaa...

“Thank you.” They said it perfect synch. As if they have rehearsed it on their table, one’s pitch is higher than the other. Perfect harmony.

After all it’s over.
And RM11 poorer, each.

Dirty Talk

He: So, how do girls watch porn?

She: Like you guys lah!

He: Huh? (Gives her a weird look, thinking about cucumbers)

She: Wait, wait, Aaaahhhh!! That didn’t come out right! HAHAHA.

Swipes

I hate telemarketers.

“Hello Mistah Tan ah, I’m Kat from Citibank ar and I having a credit cards for you!” says this woman who anyone could mistaken her for a pre-recorded phone machine. Such a well-rehearsed approach and polished voice.

Press 1 for English, Tekan 2 untuk Bahasa Malaysia, Chi chu chi chu sam Hwa Ee! (I speak horrible Mandarin)

But of course, the horribly bad engrish gave it away. It’s a classic.

“Huh?” says I, “A credit card?”

“Yeah Mistah Tan. You now having one credit cards under your names! You only need to photostats your I/C and your paychecks of the last 4 months!” Great, more broken English thrown at my direction, “and also ah, your EPF statements documents,” she concludes.

And I’m wondering, why on earth do they always add an ‘S’ at the end of every word. My god. “Err, ok. But what if I don’t want a credit card?” I inquired, “I don’t wanna be in debt for the rest of my life, just yet.”

“Nevermind wan Mistah Tan! You sign up and trying for 6 months, then if you dun like hioh, you can just cancel,” she re-assures.

I want to say,
“I DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKIN’ FREE CREDIT CARD YOU PSYCHO ‘S’ SPEAKING BITCH!!”

But instead, I told her I’d try to get all those documents ready by Monday.

Today it’s Sunday, I’ve got nothing done. And I don’t intend to anything because I don’t want to sign up. Though it can be to some convenience, but I’ll pass. If I do get one, I’ll ask my sis to hook me up with UOB. Since she works there. I might even get a Gold Card, even though I don’t qualify for it. Heh.

And suddenly I thought of a slogan.
Live now. Die later.

Taking a Chance

“Take a chance,” says him subtlety while we were having lunch at Chef&Brew. Telling me that without taking risks in life, success will never materialize.

But I was more annoyed by other things. Annoyed that Des lied to me.

A day earlier, I told him I’m no longer interested, that I got other commitments to pursue. He said he was fine by my decision but insisted that I give it one last try, hear him out, again.

“Just meet me for lunch at Chef&Brew, one last time, cool?” he insisted.

I was not so looking forward to it. So I re-assured him that my answer would still be the same. But I agreed anyway.

“OK, deal. But on one condition. I meet you there alone, one on one. Don’t bring anyone else along,” I said, knowing his tactics, “Deal?” I ask.

And he agreed.
But he didn’t keep to his word. I wasn’t surprise. In fact, I knew he will break the deal. Hence I dragged Drey along with me. As a back up plan since she has a meeting to attend after lunch.

After all the mumbo jumbo and the promise of a better life. As expected, the boss calls Drey and that was our queue to get the hell out because I’ve been cornered. Not only did he bring along his superior, he pre-planned 2 more members to “join” us by chance. So saw that coming.

But sadly, I have to admit, because my family isn’t in the upper-class ranks, I’m easily seduced. By money. My “No” was slowly evolving into something else. Possibly a “Yes”. I had to dig deep and do a little soul searching. I need guidance. I need someone to show me the way. Because whatever it is that I decide, I will never be firm. I can’t be sure.

I turn to football. It’s the only pure passion I ever have. It’s my drug, it’s my release and it’s my escape from everything. ‘Cos when I’m in the pitch, the world around me blurs away. Nothing else matters. Nothing. I’m in the zone.

“I’ll let football decide for me,” I told Drey, “I’ll set a target of 10 goals, if I make it, I’ll join, if I don’t, I’m out.”

10 may seem a lot. But it’s a 2 hour game. I’m fired up. I got stress and frustration to vent out. It’s a fair deal. And it’s with a bunch of Intel dudes. I got Zach on my side.

1 hour into the game, I’ve only netted in 2 goals. I added one more 30 minutes later with another half hour to go. Then Zach turned to me from the left flank and asks,

“How much?”
“3” I said.
“We’ve still got 30 minutes. Can still make it. Let’s do it!” he suggests, “Still fired up?”

Seeing all these weary, tired people, “Yes, let’s go for it! I still got some spark left.”

We’ve never played so creatively before. The zig zagging passes, the one touches, the crosses. The samba rhythm within was unleashed. Suddenly, fatigue and our battered legs mattered no more. Stereotypically, Indians naturally have better stamina than us, Chinese. But even our Indian team-mate couldn’t keep up. We felt so good. And I’m a smoker.

20 minutes, I conjured up 5 goals from all angles, Zach crafted 4 assists, 4 brilliant assists. Left leg, right leg. 10 more minutes to spare. 8 goals scored.

A few shots just wide, 2 hitting the post, I gave everything, because it has to be fair. It has to be pure. I must give it my best to hit 10. But the post kept rejecting. Chances go begging.

The bell rings. Our 2 hours is finally up. “Awww dude, just short of 2 more, man!” says Zach.

I was aware. Suddenly, it all seemed so clear. It felt right. I gave it my best. I tried. It didn’t happen. “Haha, its cool, man. It was close though,” I said to him, “Real close.”

I texted Drey in the car. It reads:

Scored 8. Hmmm, I guess that says it.

I’m taking my chance.

Old Skool

Looky looky what I got. Of course, I've already emailed this pic to everyone I know except for a few. Because some people do not know when to clear their inbox. You know who you are!

Who's who and where?
I'm the one in yellow, standing second from left. Vig is between me and Adam. Matcha, Ian is 3rd from right and Roby (yikes!) is just next to the teacher. Derek is sitting, the 4th kid from the right with Kevin Teh the 2nd kid sitted from right.

And if you look really, really hard. You'll see Roby dressed in all white...
wearing PINK shoes. He he he.

Burnt

“Oh, you wanted the first season hioh?” says I the second I found out she only wanted the first season of Lost,

“Aiyah, nevermind lah,” she says, “We’re already half way thru burning the second season anyway.”

As I inserted the fifth disc into the burner and resume copying, I walked back into the house to grab the first season I have on DVD, just next to the tele. I pour myself a drink and head back to the balcony. By this time, I’m almost smoking the filter of my Marlboro, so I took one last drag and flicked it off the balcony. She noticed and prompts her to ask,

“Have you, like, you know, burnt down the forest by flicking your cigarette down?”

Then it got me thinking.

I did, actually.

It was back in 2001. I had just gotten home from work and decided to have a smoke. If anyone remembers, there was this one time when Penang was oh-so-goddamn-hot. Going thru the motions, I flicked the butt off the balcony and head back in. Then I realize something, the forest beneath was unusually smoky. I thought to myself, “What’s going on?” I was writing an email to Simran at that time.

I head to the balcony and peeked down. Oh god, it was so smoky that I couldn’t even see the ground or the plants, or anything at all for that matter. By now, I’d realized I might have caused this. I propelled thru the living room, dash into the bathroom, grab the biggest pail I could find, fill it with water and drag it across the living room and dump the water down. To no avail, of course. I repeated the procedure.

[10 minutes later]

I’ve already woke my mom off her evening snooze and the balcony door is already shut tight with just a tiny gap for the water hose outside the house to go thru. Both of us were wearing a make-shift ninja-like mask improvised from a T-Shirt because the smoke is just ridiculous by now, we could hardly see anything. I’m spraying water into the flames while filling mom’s pail with water so she could dump water down as well. But it ain’t workin’!

In the end, the Fire Department was called into action.
Not to mention the commotion caused.
All that because of one butt.
One stupid butt.

So, yeah. I had done it once.
Could have even burnt the entire Pearl Hill down.
I can’t believe I’ve forgotten about it.