Sunday, 28 September 2008

Bleeding me. And, no, it’s not the Leona Lewis song*.

Oright, my last post was written with a mind that was completely in rage and in a state of utter (I have to say that some were self-inflicted) misery. In other words, I wrote the last post with an unprecedented emo psyche. Thankfully, my mom doesn’t use any black eyeliner, or any eyeliner colour for that matter, so I didn’t look like one of them emo idiots.

The truth was stretched albeit lightly. I apologise.

I’m the kind of person that would rather crack a joke or do silly things just to liven things up. I’d rather see smiles than long faces. In short, I want people to have a good time. (I think sound like a geriatric theme park attendant trying to promote the world’s most boring ride.)

I’ve always known I had a real live one—I’m talking my temper—and as such, I’ve always tried to keep it under wraps, occasionally letting it loose when I’ve either been pushed too far or when I’m in an irritable mood.

There was this incident where my intention was just to get my meal during lunch. That’s all. But I must’ve come across as this rude and practically brutish bastard, as the person who took my order kept giving me, as we say here in Malaysia, the “one-kind” or in plain speak: ‘you pretentious bastard, I’ll give you less noodles’ look—true enough, my noodles were little.

By Friday, I was so numb from all the shit I went through, so much so that I just laughed off some things that otherwise would’ve sent me into a fury. It was either that or be a cranky S.O.B.

So I will leave you beautiful people with this excerpt from the excellent Metallica song, Bleeding Me:

I'm digging my way
I'm digging my way to something
I'm digging my way to something better
I'm pushing to stay
I'm pushing to stay with something
I'm pushing to stay with something better
...with something better...

Once again, I wish you all a very, very awesome weekend. Be happy, always.

* = By golly, she’s molten lava hot.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: To all my Muslim friends, Selamat Hari Raya. May you have a great one.

Friday, 19 September 2008

Everybody Hates Chris. I'm being overly dramatic, by the way...

What an absolutely horrible week it has been. Let me correct that:

It’s been an absolutely fucked up week.

Both my personal and work life was in turmoil. Even my country, the US of A and the world were experiencing a bad week. Heck, even my tummy joined in the action! Urm…

When I crack jokes, or when I’m basically acting myself, people tend to forget that I actually have a serious side. They assume that I’m this jolly, happy-go-fucking-lucky guy and that I would kowtow to their whims when they find it appropriate to their needs. Well, boo-fuck-de-doo, I can be an outright bastard when pushed too far. They take it for granted that I’m a fairly nice guy and I’ll hold the door for you, but if you treat me like dirt, then that door would probably come slamming onto your face. Oops, I didn’t know you were behind me.

It’s as though all the females that I know have experienced some sort of dilemma/crisis this week. My big sis has been clocking 16-hour workdays and it’s about to take its toll on her. I know my colleagues have been swamped with work (Hello! What la your boss…tsk, tsk) of which it’s about to get worse because of the impending holidays. My ex, a wonderful girl whom I still keep in contact with—contrary to what many thought wasn’t possible—has some issues of her own*. I was also not spared from online unpleasantness, as I was on the receiving end of a highly unfortunate conversation that took place with a dear friend**.

But to sum up my week: it’s like thinking that you have a shot with the girl of your dreams. You think, if we get together, we’ll make a great couple. So you formulate your next move, the move that will change your life and hers. Your heart skips two beats whenever you think about her. It’s that beautiful face and that beautiful soul of hers that makes you think it’s all worth while. Guess I’ll make my move, but…then, you see her walking towards you. With her boyfriend. It’s like having a sword cut right through your heart, but you don’t die.

You just end up suffering.

This week, I’ve been angry, disappointed, and happy; all at the same time, for five days straight. I so can’t wait for next week and see what “joy” it’ll bring.

Till then, have a great weekend, people. You deserve it.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Thank you, J, for being the sponge of my idiotic emoness. Thanks for replying all my silly messages on MSN. I greatly appreciate your views. Fill—thanks, man, for listening to me. I guess we’re even now. :)

* = (Hey there, gorgeous, I’m always ready to listen ;-))
** = I know how you feel. I really, really do.

Saturday, 13 September 2008

If you’re gonna strut, ya might as well strut with panache – PART TROIS!

Just when you thought I would shut up about stories about the damn gym, here comes part 3 of my now never-ending tales from the gym. Told ya so that I had something up this week. Tee hee!

Onwards, to the gym!

Of chicken meat and chicken legs. The ones I don’t eat.

Some guys have built tops with some impressive and sculpted, urm, tops. But then, when you look down, you’ll see some of the skinniest legs only ugly models would have if they were anorexic. I kid you not! There’s this particular shorty, let’s call him Mr. Horrendous, who has arms bigger than my thighs. And I’m a big guy while he’s about the height of Miley Cyrus. He loves wearing sleeveless tees to expose his overly developed torso. Then when you get to the lower part of the body, you might burst out laughing right away at the sorry state of his chopsticks for legs. To me, if you’re going to workout only the top portion of your body, then you might as well chop off your legs and give them amputees. Honestly, seeing a guy lift a 30kg dumbbell above his head is impressive but he’s absolutely puny when it comes to leg presses of about 60kgs. (My leg presses are now done using 120kg weights. I do them 8-12 times.)

Actually, I hate you more.

As most of you know (actually it should be should know) is that I generally dislike people. The ones that I like are either related to me (even then, I may hate you, just not that much) or have unwittingly allowed their soon to be sorry selves to call me a friend. But I reserve special spite for the Middle-Easterners. Yes, I know this may stir up some controversy. Heck, I might even get thrown into some jail without any sunlight for the next 60 days. Yes, I know that not all Middle-Easterners are greedy, rude, ignoramuses. But what the heck, I hate them! The ones that go to my gym think themselves as gods, or worse, the second coming of Governator Arnold.

We’re all vain. Serious!

What do people who go to the gym have in common besides smelling like horses after working out for 5 minutes? We’re all vain buggers. Yes, you heard me right, please don’t throw that dumbbell. Hear me out first, will you? All right. Why would anyone want to spend their time in a gym, sweat with a hundred other people and then exposing your bum in the locker room? Why would you want to potentially cause great embarrassment to yourself by picking up weights and then dropping them on your toes? Why do people get on the treadmill with their arms flailing all over the place? I’ll tell you why:

We’re narcissistic, vainglorious and we’d like to wear that nice shirt to the wedding of our best mate who’s gone to seed. Actually, we’re shy people with low self-esteem so we’re compensating. Ha, take that Mr. Horrendous!

I think I better stop lest I get a show cause letter, or worse, my blog gets banned for causing inflammatory remarks. After all, no one likes to be called Horrendous, right?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Kudos to Liverpool for finally beating Manchester United, though, I must say that Man United actually helped your cause, so…..PFFFFFFFFT! Ryan Giggs, you make me sad. And so do you, the current power mongers of my country.

Monday, 8 September 2008

I'm Framing Armageddon

Actually, I'm not.

It's the title of a song I'm currently playing every chance I get. It just screams metal.

Work is boring; same ole, same ole. I go in, clock in my times and I'm outta there. It's wonderful. Really.

I shall leave you now, but I'll be back next week with something.

I hope.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Google's Chrome is badass!