Like, oh my gosh, I likes pink!

Caveat: this is my attempt at writing a girly girly post. Sue me if I get it wrong. Actually, please don’t.

A day that sucked. I hates that!

Fcuk! I broke a nail. And it wasn’t even long! WTF! The stress, TEH STRESS!!!LOL

Alright, I went to the mall with mai gurls and we just saw the latest handbag collection from Coach and I must say this:

IT’S SUCKS!

Like, c’mon, who’s gonna buy that shizz huh? It’s so gawddarn fugly! The colours are all out man. Black and pink was sooooooooooo yesterweek.

But on a different note, I saw that cute guy again. Man, he makes making coffee an art for true aficionados such as me (ooo, so modest I am!). He’s oh so cute and yummy. He’s a godsend. And what a name too.

His name is Chris.

PS: Rihanna rwks!

Phew! Enough already!

I was going to try and come up with a whole girly post but the more I kept thinking like a girly girl, the more my never-had-before-migraine kept bugging me. And my manness started to take a big hit in the clothing department. Seriously, some of these girls are so ditzy, it actually surprises me sometimes that they’re actually Malaysian and not a blonde American girl called Britaney.

The last few days have been pretty much slacktastic. (Boss, if you’re reading this, I’m doing the report right now. Really.) Been doing my work lightning fast; I’ll get my reports done in the morning and solve any ad-hoc issues with as much pace as a tennis ball aimed at your head. The days go by really quick when I’m busy and they go even quicker when I’m trying to be busy. Hmm…Anyway, I’ve stalked checked numerous blogs by girls (aged between neurotic and silly), and by Jove, they are sickeningly saccharine, the colours are epilepsy attacks waiting to happen.

And they all feature bountiful amounts of pictures!!!

Topics vary from boys to food, bitchin’ to booze to whatever a girl does. It’s really interesting. Like this one blog I chanced upon: the girl’s about 20 and she goes to a party, and she gets hammered. She laughs about it by writing a million LOLs, saying she shouldn’t have eaten so much chicken wings. And laughs again, this time with ROFLs and a couple of profanities. Then I click on her friend’s blog and guess what? She’s drunk as well! And is laughing with the same three letters!

Okay, this post is starting to sound like a diatribe on crack. A blog is a personal thing and people blog about things that are true to them. That I get. But what I don’t get is how can these girls rehash the same thing over and over again yet still make it—I’m going to regret this later—interesting? Hmph. I’m just being my cranky, irascible self, aren’t I?

I started this blog as a means to let loose my inner thoughts. The writing then—if you are willing to read drivel of the highest order—does not reflect the current incarnation’s leanings. Which is good, if I may so.

LOL.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: To lose is one thing, but to lose because someone gifts you the winning blow, it’s something that’s really hard to stomach. Much like green tea-flavoured steaks.

The day Chris went to court and the week of oddity and non-torment

No, I wasn’t under arrest because I accidentally pushed an old lady down a flight stairs.

It was an old man. Hah!

Jokes aside, I went to court for the first time in my life to settle a few family matters last Tuesday. (On Monday, I went to the dentist’s five years since my last visit. The dentist said my teeth were nice!) Again, nope, none of my relatives are dishonest enough to commit CBU. It’s funny that when you say you have to go to court, people would either assume you’re going there to:

a) Free an incarcerated cousin who was at the wrong place and time or

b) You’ve been charged with possession of some funny-looking toys. And I don’t mean the children variety.

Funny how much Law & Order re-runs can affect the mind.

Located at the other side of the world where I live, the journey to court took approximately an hour. My family and I arrived two and a half hour early. The case itself? Let’s just say that my warm-ups take longer (read: not that long at all!). It was that short! Only my sister was required to be present in front of the assistant to the judge person, and there I was with my mom, all dressed up nicely and smelling of food (the cafeteria food was horrendously pungent). All the worry, all the doubt and all the sleepiness (we all woke up at 5 a.m. to beat the dreadful morning rush) was gone in three minutes. By then I was hungry and strangely craving for a burger.

While waiting for our lawyer, I dozed off. In a really small and smelly chair. If you must know, I’m training myself to doze on command. I did wake up sporadically to shift my position lest I want my neck to be in a 44 degree angle for the rest of the day. I also saw my first prisoners. They were chained with the police were escorting them. Behind them all, were the families of the accused, solemn and silent. It was at that point that I said to myself, luckily I have a job.

As were heading home, when things look like they were getting brighter, (the weather certainly did) we got into a massive traffic jam. Fate sure does have a wicked sense a humour.

Went back to work on Wednesday, and while everything seemed familiar, they also seemed out of place. For example, the laptop where I do my work. The keys were all there, none of them missing (why would they go missing in the first place?) but hitting them felt weird. I’ve been working almost non-stop since the New Year, covering all the public holidays since. So to take two days off and coming back felt irregular.

Thursday came and just as I was about to finally settle down and get back into the (torturous) groove of work, I was hastily called into training. As one by one the initial participants pulled out, others (the ones with not much work, hehe) were called into the board room to replace them. Since the training lasted two days, out of 3 days I was in the office, I only did a day’s worth of work. Those who attended got free lunch (read: fast food, urghs) and two days of non-work. Our 10-minute breaks were actually 15-minute breaks. We laughed and joked even though the trainer was a very nice old woman but I knew that if we were overly enthusiastic we would suffer the wrath of a nefarious sorceress. I must lay off the fantasy books, I know.

And what was the training all about?

Professionalism.

It was a very tiring week, what with me driving all over the damn country and then getting work done and clearing some more family matters. The only thing that could make it better would be a date with Kristen Bell.

Yeah, right! Have a great weekend, y’all!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Manchester United better win it tonight. Or else I’m going to be really, really upset next week.

They’re out there. Somewhere. Hopefully not there.

Space Kitty will invade your world!!!

George Lucas must’ve been an odd little fella growing up. And I don’t mean his goitre. Was he a typical geek who would be in a world of his own during class? Did he make all the noises of a Deathstar destroying a planet? Actually, who cares? I certainly don't!

Ever wondered what lies beyond the stars? Are we alone in this cosmic universe or is there an invisible spacecraft encircling the Earth as we eat our roti canai? (Something like a tortilla, only tastier. And a lot more fattening.) What if we are attacked by aliens seeking to destroy Earth because it’s in their way and that they want to build an intergalactic highway like in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Do they have huge bulging black eyes, a slit for a mouth and when they speak, they do it directly to your brain? Are they humanoid and share the same look as us but are much smarter than that average know-it-all you’ve always wanted to push down a flight of stairs? Or do they resemble Jeri Ryan from Star Trek: Voyager? (I so wish that.)

I wasn’t one of those kids who grew up wishing he were an astronaut or a space traveller of sorts. I’m not sure why, I mean, I grew up watching Star Wars, Star Trek, and many other space-themed shows (Mork and Mindy bored me to tears). Heck, I was even the youngest member of the local chapter of Geeks United Star Trek before it sadly got decommissioned. Yet, I never developed a strong fascination for it. I was more into fantasy (and still very much am): knights in shining armour, princesses with big bosoms (ahhh), wizards with grey beards who spoke in riddles and in cryptic tones, smarmy dragons with jewellery fetishism, and liberal doses of magick to save the day. It’s no wonder why I quite fancy women with pointy ears (damn elves, why do they have to be so sexy?).

Movies like Independence Day (Jeff Goldblum once again rocks as the intelligent and witty geek who helps to save the world from aliens nowhere smart as he) and Signs (the buildup was immense, the ending a total shitfest), whilst highly entertaining, merely perpetrate the notion that, if aliens were to launch an all-out assault in the hopes in of annihilating the human race, we would be able to defeat them with the power of our imbecility and ignorance. Look, they travelled all the way here from God knows where, therefore I think their technology is definitely better than Intel’s. Sometimes hope won’t save the world, you know!

To me, there’s definitely something more to the stars, planets and the Milky Way. We can’t be the only “intelligent” (for want of a better, more appropriate word) beings. Do aliens have religion? Do they have their own pontiffs? Do they have currency? Do they have Alien Idol? Do they *GASP!* have intercourse? These are questions with no straightforward (heck, I think there are even crooked ones) answers or at least ones that won’t be discovered at least in my lifetime.

Is the cosmic universe governed by aliens in fancy dresses? As long as it’s not sequin.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I do not doubt the existence of life outside our world I just doubt them aliens are prettier than us. An alien equivalent to Angelina Jolie with two extra eyes and arms and legs? Yikes!

I am not good. Or so my 5 vices tell me.

This post is a meme that was bequeathed to me by a dear friend who shall remain anonymous to my regular readers but will always be remembered fondly as the most exuberant person (trapped) on a tiny island that has the worst Hokkien Mee EVER.

Here they are, in no particular order except by overall badness:

• Diffidence and flatulence are a deadly combination

I am my own worse enemy. If you don’t talk to me, I won’t talk to you. If you don’t smile at me, I’ll deny your existence. Simple, no? Does that make me an arrogant git? I hope not.

• I worry too much it should be illegal. I think it is a crime in Mongolia.

I have this habit of wanting to do things right the first time. Like, for instance, brushing your teeth. No one in their right mind wants to brush their molars twice in a space of 3 minutes, yes? I’d bite my nails (well, lick them since I don’t want ugly fingers), pull my hair (none to begin with), shout some incoherent ramble before I realise that I didn’t have to worry at all. Shit. I will excogitate (excellent word!) over and over again until my brain hurts so badly that when the splendid rays of wake up, foo! hits me, I would’ve wallowed in a swamp of self-loathing so deep, I would be now one with the Swamp Thing.

• I can be quite mean. Meaner than you would imagine.

Under the guise of a dim-witted yet rather strapping young lad, hides a guy with a sinister streak. Yes, I have the predilection to be rather nasty—sometimes bordering on the uncouth. I, for the most part, do it to illicit giggles. I do know when to draw the line. It’ll be a bit off tangent sometimes, but I do try my best to keep it as straight as possible. I’ve always been nippy when it comes to unleashing witty retorts. Have I gotten into trouble for being a potty mouth? I don’t remember getting walloped by a mob so the answer is no. I really hope not. I just combed my hair. Wait, I don’t have any. Drats.

• Thanks to the Big Dude, I’m Pedantic and not Panicky.

Situation: Sticking my head into a hole which is so obviously not meant for me. This is something I have to work on. Really work on. Composing emails is one of many, many foibles. A simple one sometimes would suffice, but not for me. Oh no sirree. My emails are like friggin’ dossiers for sanity’s sake! Subscribing to pedantry has led me to some pretty awkward moments not withstanding the fact that it also has gotten me into trouble. Need I elaborate? Not this time!

• Vindication against those who have wronged me. Yes, I’m talking about you, you old fat bat of a woman.

I think this vice is a ‘nuff said one. All right. Maybe a short description will do. Scene: crowded bus stop. A sea of stinky, mostly fat women are sitting on impossibly comfortable “seats,” waiting for the bus to arrive. Me: standing upright whilst trying to look cooler than cool but failing miserably because my fly is down. Bus arrives, stinky fat women rush. In the process, they try to push me. I’m a head taller and built like a (small) bull. Bus door opens and BAM! I push them stinky fat women aside.

And a bonus one, which is not so much a vice but more of a transgression, if I may say so:

• Intolerance towards blatant rudeness and its ilk

If you’re going to use the F-word or any other profanity, make absolutely sure you mean it. Don’t just say it just because it’ll make you cooler. I’m no stranger to being profane but to do it in the office? C’mon, let civility reign for 7 and a half hours then you can cuss all you want.

To be absolutely frank, this was difficult. It really took me awhile to come up with this post. Not because I think I’m angel (I am, ask my grandmother) but trying to find something bad about yourself is like trying to get a politician to say sorry.

I hope I don’t end up as a politician. Have a great weekend, people!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This post is open to any one if they have the guts to write about their vices.