Son, you gotta put that dumbbell down.

Family and friends think I'm a peculiarity. More so when I whip out my pink Tupperware at 3:30pm sharp every week day and they find a chicken sandwich. I don't blame them. Their eyes get even bigger when I tell them I eat 6 meals a day, spread over a 3-4 hour interval. And when they find out I don't eat fast-food or imbibe carbonated drinks they'll burst a vein. An apoplectic fit is experienced when I mention that the gym is my "Happy Place".

What's the use of being able to lift 100kgs with your back? Or why does one curl a 15kg dumbbell to their shoulders? Why do we see so many men and women do a million sit-ups yet still have beer bellies? Because people like them and me are nothing more but a bunch of narcissists. We are vain. We are aroused by compliments from family and friends. Our own volition drives us to pretty ourselves.

All in the name of health, of course.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since I've touched let alone lifted a dumbbell. And it feels good. Nay, it feels absolutely fucking great! Ever since I got back from my last holiday trip, I've become less obsessed with gym. If I don't go today, I'll go tomorrow. If that doesn't happen then I'll just do it when I can. In the gym I am very pedantic and idiosyncratic about how I go about my training. It's unorthodox to say the least. I won't bore you with the exactness of my regime but think of it this way: I have a regime that doesn't follow a set pattern but I have everything planned out beforehand. Pardon me if you're puzzled. Although, lately, I've been slacking. My once unyielding mind now gives way to random thoughts. Jogging and running have always been a favourite; I just love how it allows my mind to wander and ponder about things but even those two don't seem to do the trick these days.

Perhaps this is what a gym burnout feels like. This has never happened before. Once, when I fell ill with a fever hot enough to cook eggs, I still worked out albeit with an intensity equivalent to a baby crawling over 10 metres. Heck, when I nearly dislocated my right shoulder, I stopped for a week but resumed heavy lifting the following week. But this is a different feeling altogether and it's worrisome.

Admittedly, I'm having difficulty staying completely focused. I'll go from one thing to another; work problems to problems of the mind and heart. I'll be jogging at 10km/h with a 5% incline and while I'm gasping for air the aforesaid problems come into play, sometimes in my field of vision, and there I am, trying to wrench them away lest they make me trip and fall. That will not be nice at all.

Life's to be blamed for all of this. Yes, you've read that right: Life. But that's juvenile. Life is to be blamed and commended. Without Life, I wouldn't be here, whining like a kid who's lost his lollipop. And without Life, I wouldn't be grateful for the life I have now (albeit it stinks a little now). I guess putting down them dumbbells have been the best thing since lifting them in the first place.

My so-called "happy place" was never the gym. It is where I am most comfortable.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: People, I am gym NUT, not a FREAK. For, if I were a freak, I won't be here. I reiterate: I much rather hang out at a nice bar or Starbucks if the chance presented itself.

Any takers?

Red Devils are amongst us!

Football.

This one word alone conjures a wide spectrum of feelings: excitement, passion, commitment, anger, disbelief, pride, and even love.

Yes, 22 men chasing after a ball on a field can do that to a person.

As many of you should know by now, I support Manchester United (MUnited), arguably the greatest club in the world (thank you very much). And on 18th July 2009, I witnessed them in the flesh (albeit a good 500 metres away) plying their trade against the Malaysian national team. It was an all right match; MUnited played their usual game on 10% effort whereas the Malaysians played as though their heads were attached to a bomb. Everybody knew that MUnited held back a lot so as to not embarrass the host nation but we caught glimpses of the genius of the players. But guess what? We actually played well! Kudos goes to the curi ayam dude wearing number 17.

The day started out hazy and although it was not blistering hot it was the humidity that totally drove everyone bonkers. Sweat trickled down my forehead and unto my feet. Every pore opened up like someone forgetting to turn off the tap. The people with me didn't fare much better as they had to battle their own bursting dams. We cheered every time someone warmed. We cheered even louder when the match began and I remember losing it when Michael Owen (quite the diminutive this fella) scored the winning goal 5 minutes before time.

It was bloody sensational.

Of course, not everyone will understand. You either get it or you don't. Come football season you'll notice a lot of sleep deprived faces, people with tempers flying about (attributed to their team losing i.e. Liverpool falling spectacularly to MUnited!), maybe even a brawl or two when rival teams clash over who has the better free-kick style. I just hope that my future partner is understanding enough and while I would love to spend as much time with her as possible there comes a time a man has to do what a man needs to do.

Buy a gift for her and dinner.

But that's how it is. Football is intangible yet completely full of feel. Most of all, football fucking rules! Here's to the upcoming season!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: To all the peeps who came along for the ride, Angie and et al, thanks for sharing this experience. Next one will be even better, I'm sure of it. Glory, Glory Manchester United!

You never know till you've tried.

"Life's like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get," so goes the saying from Forrest Gump.

Never a more apt saying for life has been said.

I, on the other hand, would've said, "Life's like a box of shrooms; you never know what you're going to hallucinate."

Anyway, life's been a real box of surprises. One minute when I think everything's dandy, something gets thrown into the mix and switches everything up. Sometimes it's a nice and pleasant surprise. Sometimes they've been painful. This year has seen me at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Yet I still come back for more. Guess that makes me a sucker for punishment, eh?

The problem with me is that I can be obtusely obstinate. I can be very aware of things and my surroundings but there have been times where I have been so myopic it's ridiculous. Like, for instance, the complete eagerness and earnestness of me trying to please this girl (she's a nutjob now so there's no need to pity me) that I didn't realise I was being made a fool. But I kept going on and on till one day it dawned upon me that she's just a waste of time and effort (money more so as I was still in college and perpetually broke) so I fucked it, moved forward and never once looked back. In these kind of situations, it'll take something really drastic to make me see sense and it has to get knocked into my thick skull with much force otherwise I'll go on still. Or, if she says stay the fuck away from me, then that's my cue to scram the fuck away.

In simpler words: as much as I would like to give up, I don't know how, so, I might as well just go on and see what happens. Good or bad, I need to know the answer. The worst thing is not trying. There's nothing worse than to regret something you didn't even try. If things don't work out, feel sorry for a bit, cry a little if you want to but make sure you pick yourself up and move on. And be absolutely certain that no one gets hurt (or stays hurt) to eliminate any awkwardness in the future. The last thing you want is to have an estranged relationship with the person you've made a startling confession to as it will lead to nowhere.

Go on, give that box of chocolates another peek. It might give you another surprise. You never really know till you've tried.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: 2009 is shaping up to be the most eclectic year, ever. Don't you agree?

Chris's Guide to Ask a Girl for a Movie and Possibly Tea.

Actually, I mislead.

This post is about things I've noticed in my years of being an observant (read: inquisitive) person:

1. People with handphones/mobiles: The younger you are the further away you see the screen. The older you are the closer your nose is to the screen. I've seen old men go all squinty-eyed when reading a text message. They'll push up their glasses, squeeze their eyeballs till they're about to pop and mouth the words of the text. Sometimes loudly. I hope I don't end up like them.
   
2. Don't you just hate it when people expect you to give way on the escalator, with nary an "Excuse me," while the steps are conveniently located next to it? Guess what? You're a lazy ass!
3. Queuing up sucks. Even if it's just one person ahead of you, it still sucks. But if you're lining up to buy your favourite burnt-to-a-crisp pancake, for the life of me, don't stand so near me! What makes you think I will go any faster by knocking your chest on me? In fact, I will purposely make your life slower by being an ass myself. This applies to all the morons and airheads who are lining up with me at the ATMs, movies, supermarkets and general queue-up-ness.
4. To all the short guys who try to out muscle me: give it up. Now.
   
5. When I'm in a semi-swanky shop, for instance, Gap, do not look at me as though I cannot afford your overly priced, Made in Cambodia, clothes. I can. So if you ignore or size me up, you are in trouble. Also, do not follow me around like I'm going to pull a Winona Ryder. I do not need to steal underwear.
6. How does putting up your collar make you look cooler? I think I've said this before in an earlier post but this bears repeating: putting it up makes you look like a dumb dog who can't help it but bite its own tail for comfort.

I think 6 rants shall suffice for now. Till the next rant list!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Guys, if you want to ask a girl out on a date, just ask. It's as simple as that.

Moonwalking to the stars, moon and beyond.

The one and only, Michael Jackson.

The feeling is very odd. It's like waking up one gloomy morning and thinking you're missing something but you can't quite put your finger on. You think to yourself, hmm, what the heck is it. Then it hits you. Ah, I left the keys in the car. Again.

Bad analogy, I know, but it's the best I can come up with.

Michael Jackson is no longer on this planet. Weird, right? One minute we (yes, YOU and I are the guilty ones) are ridiculing him the next we are stupefied by the news of his death, jaws agape. I remember going to work thinking, "huh?" and when I met Waffle Girl for breakfast she was visibly stunned by the news (she still is). I was nonchalant, I mean, lets be real.: yes, he did come up with some of the catchiest, timeless pop songs ever but why would his death bring you to tears? What did he do besides entertaining you for but only a few minutes every time one of his songs was played on the radio? If I sound insensitive then so be it. I won't hide the fact that I didn't feel anything when official news announced the death.

However, the surreality of it didn't hit me until recently. Like how I left my keys in the car, twice, whence I was in college, hearing people refer to him in past tense seems like an odd thing. It didn't sound right. So I can only imagine what his family and his children are going through.

I'm surprised that there has been no dissertation of some sort on the songs that he wrote. Just read the lyrics to You are Not Alone, Leave Me Alone, Stranger in Moscow and the like, and you'll find a man who has everything and nothing. All the money and adoration yet he was a tortured soul. His past shaped him but you would never have known it due to the fact that he was such a tremendous entertainer than you forget he is mortal. You think, "hmm, this is a sad song sung beautifully." But have you even listened to it properly?

Unquestionably, he loved children so much so that ofttimes people thought he was a pervert, a monster, child eater. No, he viewed children as who they were. In essence, Michael was indeed a man-child in a man's world. Neverland was an escape from the real world. It was his refuge, haven from all the bad of the world. And he brought children inside to show them joy that he never got to experience. For that, I give him my utmost sympathy and acknowledgment.

I can only relate to his childhood, or rather, the non-existent one. Not the early fame, of course, when I was five I was still chewing on my Ziggy toy whereas he was belting out hit tunes. But I can relate to the loneliness and the longing for father-and-son moments. They never came but we had hope. Which is why I am driven to be the best father to my unborn child(ren) and give them the childhood I should have had.

I was and most likely never will be a fan of his. Nonetheless, I'll always respect his works no matter what. After all, growing up in the 90's it was near impossible to not like any of his songs. The King of Pop reigned supreme.

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.

This is Chris, moonwalking...

PS: ...tried moonwalking but I ended up tripping and falling on my butt. Damn.

Devil horns and bhangra. Who knew it could be good?

Music makes the world go round.

I thought it was because it was spinning on its own axis?

Wise-ass remark aside, music has left an incredibly profound impact on my life. I grew up listening to classical and oldies courtesy of my dad while I was forced to listen to my sisters' favourite 80's and 90's pop. Of course, you now know me as the most unmetal-looking metalhead.

So is it a funny image if I were to tell you that this metalhead actually enjoyed fusion music last night? Let me be more specific: this metalhead enjoyed local fusion music that combined bhangra and modern sensibilities? Oh, I also forgot bagpipes. The Diplomats of Drum performed at The Curve and I was there with my friends. I've always had a thing for live performances, especially if it involves instruments and not 5 pretty boys lip-synching and dancing in tandem to standard beats. No, this was something special. After a lifeless demonstration on Capoeira which had exponents performing windmills on each other, came the main attraction.

I didn't know what to expect so I sat on my high stool and waited. The wait, humidity and smoky surrounding was worth it. Remember all the Bollywood movies you've watched? Remember the music? The unmistakable rhythm of the drum beat? Now hold that sound and add in guitar riffs, flutes, a didgeridoo and massive amounts of melody and you'll probably get a whiff of what the music is. If you're having a tough time then it's only understandable. It's not like this kind of music gets played on the airwaves at all. When it comes to local bands I will be wary always as a good chunk are just bad imitators of their influence.

But not this band.

The only downside of an otherwise brilliant performance was the audience. It has to be said that Malaysians are idiots, morons and general dumbasses when it comes to live performances. The people just sat on their seats, drinking and smoking, while the band kept urging them to get on their feet and wave their hands. What's the reason for our ineptitude and lassitude? "We're a shy people, we don't do that sort of thing." No wonder Singapore still gets all the action. C'mon! You have a great band who plays great music and there you are nodding gently. There I was, unleashing the devil horn on one hand while the other clutched a Heineken* looking like a poseur. But I didn't give a right damn as I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Ginormous kudos and devil horns to the Diplomats and their Drums. You've made me a fan.

This is Chris, signing off.

* = Did I really look that red? Damnit, I still can't drink for nuts.

PS: I wonder if the Diplomats wouldn't mind having me doing vocals...

The middle is upon us!

Man, 2009 sure has been one thoroughly interesting year, hasn't it? It's the year that I turn the big 2 and 5. 25, to me, is neither old or young. It's a good number. It has a nice ring to it, no?

Actually, it sucks.

There's just not enough time to do everything that I like. Gym time has been severely hit as work is piling up (I'm not a fan of working out on weekends as the second statement shows why). To hang out I will need to check in advance as there's only so much time in a weekend to meet up with friends and family. But being 25 also means more responsibility. In my last post, I mentioned that an old friend of mine is doing well career- and life- wise. Cool, eh? Here I am thinking about the next outing whereas he and other people like him are changing diapers. Work has been up and down. Admittedly, there are more downs than ups. I keep telling myself that in 10 years' time I'll look back at all this and just smile. "I went through all that shit to get to this level so suck it up!" will be mantra that I will tell to all the wide-eyed trainees under me. Maintaining a positive mind is a must in such situations lest I let my anger to take over me. To paraphrase one big green dude said, you won't like it when I'm angry...

My feelings and thoughts have been a real tangled mess the past few months. I can't explain them here for highly personal reasons but to those who know a bit and who've helped me along the way, thank you. I really wanted to write an insightful and long post but I think I've said enough.

I wonder what the second half of the year will bring. I hope it's good stuff*.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I wish good things upon you, too.

I would shake your hand, friend.

He was a playboy, this person is. He was known to flirt with every female that came his way, even with friends' girls, trying his best to win them over with his charm and wit which he had in spades. And, boy, did he had them. If that wasn't enough, he was blessed with looks that could kill and a smile that could light up a house. Oh, he has a killer body, too. Some people have all the luck, eh?

Unfortunately, this is what most people think when they see him. Everything is untrue except for the charisma and appearance.

You see, back in the day, this guy was a real showboat; every single thing about him screamed "jock!" It didn't help that I had a little crisis with my own looks so when he came strutting into a room, I would groan and say fuck softly. He was always smartly dressed whereas I was content with my creased as can be shirt. He had the girls mesmerised while the guys wanted to be his best bud. The thing that always got to me was his holier-than-thou attitude. Come presentation time, he would lead his team and present a slick and engaging topic. He had the confidence and the panache to pull it all off. Did I forget to mention that he is also smart as heck?

There was this innate animosity between us, like how a gorilla when upon seeing another gorilla will want to puff up its chest and start pounding it silly. Well, I was a chubby, clumsy and comical gorilla whereas he was a silverback. This continued for some time but it died slowly and surely as we got older. So you can only imagine how far and hard my jaw dropped when I found out he is married and now has child! He, of all people, has settled down and is now a proud father. I didn't have his number otherwise I would've called and congratulated him.

I hated him, but why? you may ask. Back then I would've said that he was a damn prick. But now it all seems like trivial dribble. All the piercing glares we gave each other and the inane posturing all are a distant memory. I've always had a deep respect for him and his methods even though I agreed with them less than half the time.

So I raise my cup of milk and congratulate wholeheartedly to you, the missus and your newborn. Have a blessed life and hopefully we'll have a coffee together some day.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I am humbled.

Hooters was a bust.*

First,

Thanks be to the women of Singapore. More on this later.

Is it just me or are Singaporeans absolutely bonkers about their shopping centres? Or in local patois, malls? See any building that has "mall" etched on its facade and chances are you'll see, oh, hundreds and hundreds of people crowding an area that comfortably accommodates 5 people at any time. It it insane. Even Kuala Lumpur (KL) does not experience such waves of humans. (Except for when petrol prices are hiked up. You'll even see old women clamouring to get petrol for their cars.)

Granted, the Grand Singapore Sale is currently ongoing so that sort of explains things a little but it's as though the entire population is out and about. Don't they ever stay at home? If they're not shopping, they're eating. But most of the time they're shopping and eating. And boy do these Singaporeans eat a lot, from deep fried duck innards to squid on a stick, they eat it all. Yet they remain thin and in relatively good shape! It must be all the walking they do and it's what I did most as well. I could walk literally every where in Singapore, not get bored and best of all, feel safe even at night. Doing the same in Malaysia would leave me completely drenched in my own sweat, severely dehydrated and utterly frightened for my life as every passing motorcyclist is a paranoid person's nightmare.

Singaporean females, I have to admit, are hot, sexy and downright pretty. They are also unbelievably conceited. And that's just the teenagers. The more made up ones, whilst undeniably pretty and tall, were so full of themselves that I had no choice but to look at them. The level of pretentiousness is so great I am left amazed and thankful for my Ray Ban's. Surreptitiously glancing at said girls is full of win. That's the culture over there, I guess; it truly is a Singaporean thing. However, to me, the prettiest girls weren't the ones in 5-inch heels, push-up bras or decolletage-baring outfits, rather it was the girls dressed in a simple tee and jeans that caught my eye. While Malaysian girls are steadily upping the ante when it comes to fashion, they still fall three steps back to their counterparts. Even going to the nearby mall you can see young girls in dresses. Small dresses, mind you. What more can I say about the adults? Though, I have to say that my country definitely has the better looking girls. Looks-wise, it's almost equal, give or take the mixed girl or two but there's something that our girls have that many Singaporeans lack: pureness.

Patriotism never looked so good.

This is Chris, signing off.

* = Get it?

PS: To the women of Singapore and especially those in Hooters, I still love you all long time. I'll be back.

Man on Man. This doesn't sound right at all...

If you've been following this blog (you absolutely must, by the way) you probably noticed me dishing out praise like it was the Singapore Mega Sale.* Well, when praise is deserved I will praise, sometimes too effusively, I know, but I really mean it. The same goes with me criticising or unleashing a customary diatribe; I will go all out to make my point clear.

Anyway, this post is going to be about the L-word. Not that L-word, but, you've guessed it, Love. To be more specific:

Man Love.

In my Penang/Langkawi/Penang posts, I mentioned that my friends, Waffle Girl and G-Milo Girl, had this strong bond that seems to get stronger (I think they're drinking calcium-enriched milk) as time goes by. It made me think about my own friends; my brothers from another mother. There are only two guys in the world that I trust wholly with my secrets and emo, Fill and Irwin.

Fill, and I have this tacit understanding, a very manly bond, that allows us to work really well together. I'm more of the planner whereas he's the executioner. Together, we rocked the presentations during college. Except for one. We presented a Java program but instead of prepping ourselves we decided to just wing it which was the norm for us for all our presentations. But, boy, did this one implode in our faces. Midway through the presentation it was clear we were just blathering about everything except Java-related stuff. We were silly. We made a mockery of the classroom and the lecturer but the worse was that we made ourselves the biggest fools. At the end of it, we apologised to the class and walked back to our seats, heads hung low in shame. Life sure does know how to embarrass a person. So from that day onwards we made a pact that the next presentation we will sit down and plan everything in advance to avoid any more screw ups.

Irwin is someone I don't see often as he's in Italy for studies but when he comes back here for holidays I'll make sure we hang out as much as possible. He's someone I can talk to about anything yet have nearly the same thoughts and opinions. He and I have experienced things growing up that not many people can relate to, therefore, I guess that's why we're close. Which, is weird, considering we hated each other back in the day when we first met in college. It was a mutual thing: I hated his over-enthusiastic self and his endless gadgets while he hated me in return as I was this portly crap-spewer who kept saying stupid things to entertain people. But as we got to know each other, we learned to appreciate each other's foibles and flaws, the better the friendship became.

Guys are exteremely straightforward with each other. If we find that one of us has been acting like a prick, we'll say it. Loud. It's who we are. We love chilling with our coffee and talk about cars, chicks and comics but we can shut those all out in an instant and talk about the important stuff: Life.

Cos we're manly men!

This is Chris, signing off.

* = Which, coincidentally, I'm going to next, next weekend. Goods at bargain prices and vacuous but totally hot Singaporean chicks? Hot damn, yes!

PS: Bill, I know you're reading this, so, here's a big mug of milk for you. Thanks for being a total jerk in front of the other guys and a great friend when they're not there. We will have a very good friendship.

The Hunt for the Forbidden Drink.

One of the more interesting tales from the holiday trip was the search for a most mysterious drink. This drink is said to be so wicked it was even banned in some countries you'd think, whoa, this is gotta be some drink for them to even think it not safe. But more on that later.

As most Malaysians know, Langkawi is known for its rich history, laidback attitude and friendly people. But that's the tourists' brochure version. Langkawi is most known for its tax-free businesses. Want to buy branded chocolate and perfumes? This is the place for you. However, most people come here for the alcohol and cigarettes but most are here for the former. Alcohol is pretty pricey outside tax-free zones so getting nearly half the price on the island is seen as really good deal.

After getting our rented car, we headed to Kuah, a 25-minute drive from our hotel. The journey there was pleasant; people were really laidback as evident in their driving. Back home in Kuala Lumpur even in the more rural areas you can still find rickety cars driven by even more rickety people zooming by. Over here, the people are just happy to cruise. At 40kph. My mother runs faster. But the slowness didn't take away anything from us, apart from time, of course. We got to view how life on this island, unhurried and languid, at its natural pace. After guessing to where to turn into we reached our destination and thus began the hunt...

The heat was unbearable. Our outfits were soaked, skin slowly being burnt brown by the scorching heat and the blazing sun. We walked from shop to shop with G-Milo Girl showing to the storekeepers her mobilephone the name of the drink. Being a 99% teetotaler*, I assumed she wanted to get a drink that was not commonly found back home. Just under half an hour, when we arrived at what was store 6 in our quest for this elusive, enigmatic drink, I decided to ask G-Milo Girl for the name. Lo and behold! Immediately, a wide grin was etched on my face as the name was finally revealed:

Absinthe.

Yes, people, absinthe. The is the same drink that was banned in America till early 2007 and is legendary as it is infamous. I knew right away of its reputation and difficulty in acquiring it. The trio of Waffle Girl, G-Milo Girl and myself soldiered on. Undeterred, we went to practically every store that had hard liquor before being tipped off about this one big shop. If that shop doesn't have it, then surely the rest won't either I had jokingly said to the girls that I can only imagine that we enter a small, dark and dingy shop owned by a storekeeper with only one eye and a patch, following him into a labyrinth under his shop to the location of the unholy substance Instead, we ended up in a shop which was brightly lit and manned by an impudent boy. Alas, no shop on the island did not carry it but it was worth a shot.

This got me thinking, the more something is forbidden, the more it is infamous yet is somehow reachable, the more curious we are. I know for a fact that absinthe ain't Jolly Shandy, unless you view being jolly with hallucinations is fun. Curiosity killed the cat, we all know that but maybe a little curiosity is good.

Being a little bit naughty can't be wrong? Right?

This is Chris, signing off.

* = I probably imbibe alcohol typically once in a while but when I do I normally go for beer or liquor with low levels of alcohol.

PS: Upon digging further, I found this link. I normally do not advocate the consumption of alcohol, but if anyone were to check out the places listed in the link and can vouchsafe the existence of absinthe, do buzz me ASAP!

PPS: Post number 3 in a week! New world record!

Deep fried chicken skin. Cream on legs. Tight embraces. It was surely great times.

Penang.

Considered to be Malaysia's premier island, Penang is a fascnating state that is as modern as the capital, Kuala Lumpur. It's been called a food paradise. It blends the old and new like no other.

Pfft. Only a true Penangite would say that. We all know the truth. Yes, we do. Malacca is where it's at, yo!*

Anyway, enough talk about state pride, let's get on with the show. The story begins when Waffle Girl and I had to take a flight down to Penang in order to catch up with G-Milo Girl who was there earlier on business. I've always been fascinated with being in an airport; I love the hustle and bustle of it, the constant rush of people wanting to get on their flights to see their loved ones or seeing secretive people trying to smuggle durians. The plane ride was pleasant, 30 minutes in the air and back down to terra firma. My only gripe is why do all stewardesses have to put on a tonne of makeup? I could bake cakes with the amount of foundation one uses. Anyway, Waffle Girl got hit on by a couple of just pubescent boys which upon looking at me decided it best not to try further with her. Comedy at 10000 feet above sea level was ensured.

As soon as we landed, we headed towards the jetty to get our tickets for the next day's trip to Langkawi. Then it was a dash to the the hotel to wait for G-Milo Girl. When everyone was freshened up, we went out for dinner together with a friend of G-Milo Girl, Sifu, who said that people driving cars had to be wary of people not driving cars. It was apparent that the people of Penang were fearless as heck as oncoming cars would have to swerve dangerously to avoid hitting them. Later, Sifu was gracious enough to bring us around Penang even though it was getting late for him.** Supper was a short trip down the road from the hotel to a quaint eatery called quaintly, Mr. Pot. Along the way, we saw transvestites. I have no comment. The food was all right. Nothing happened, actually, but I do like the name. Then I spent the first night with the girls and I must say this to all the guys out there: girls will be girls. One of the reasons was that all manner of products were used to tone, moisturise and do things to the skin that I never thought possible. Guys, take note: if a girl is putting cream on her legs, don't ask, just compliment her.

The next day was when we went to Langkawi so you already know that story so I'll just jump to when we got back to Penang after spending only the night on the other island. As you know, besides being nearly frozen to my seat, the journey back on the ferry was 3 hours, a good 30 minutes later than expected. When we got off, we were tired, hungry and smelled. (Actually, it was mostly me.) We re-checked in the hotel we stayed earlier, got prepped for dinner and it was out to Gurney Drive, roughly 20 minutes away. The first thing you'll notice is the congestion, long lines stretching from the beginning of the road till the very end. Then, you'll see the row upon row of shops, hotels and restaurants. My kind of town. Parking space was going to be an issue as everyone (I noticed a lot of old women, c'mon, give this poor guy a space to park so that he can eat!) wanted any space. So we found one quite right at the end, and while this is going to pain me greatly, hot damn can G-Milo Girl drive a car. She managed to squeeze her car into a tight spot which would've made some driving instructors green with envy. Dinner consisted of local fare; fried noodles, noodles in soup, and fried stuff. Stuff meaning deep fried chicken skin and squid. Now, the squid, I loved a lot but the chicken skin? Oh, man. The last time I ate chicken skin was KFC's when I was 10. But the minute I bit into it, damn, this is some good skin. Sinfully delicious was the phrase and rightly so. I wonder if my skin is smoother now. Hmm...

On the last day of the holiday, we woke up early, and headed towards the bus station to get tickets for me and Waffle Girl home as G-Milo Girl had to stay back for work commitments. It's never easy to say goodbye so we tacitly agreed to not talk about it instead focused our attention to make the last day as good as it can be. So we chatted in the hotel room's floor, crossing our legs and start regalling each other about our experiences. It was nice but what made it more intimate was to see how close the bond between Waffle Girl and G-Milo Girl had. It was special even though I know Waffle Girl would beg to differ since according to her I only saw a miniscule of it. I can only hope that my own friendship with them would be even a smidgen as good as theirs. As we finally parted ways at the bus station, I could see sadness but also happiness between the two girls as they embraced each other tightly. Words fail me. Folks, this is what real friends are all about.

The trip not only recharged the mind and body, it also recharged the spirit. I am already looking forward to the next adventure.

This is Chris, signing off.

* = I still love you, Penang. I mean, 30 cents parking? Unbelievable!

** = For that, thanks be to Sifu. Worry not, I will find a way back home if I was stranded in Penang because of your clear and concise directions.

PS: As you may already know, I don't post 2 entries in the same week let alone in 2 days but I felt compelled to get this story out. At least it's better than doing work.

Nearly heaved my breakfast out. Got sunburnt. Almost froze to death. Man, I wanna do all that again!

Phew...

I haven't even changed from the smelly clothes I'm in but here I am blogging about the holiday I just came back from. You want to know why?

Cos it was damn fun, man.

Let me explain: my colleague and her best friend were planning a trip to an island called Langkawi, Malaysia's version of Hawaii minus the Alohas, half naked Polynesian women and flame-throwing, grass-covered males. So I jokingly said to my colleague, Waffle Girl, can I join? That was about two months ago. Then one fine day last month or so, she comes back to me and says, hey, remember that trip I told you about? Would you like to join us? I immediately said, urm, you do know that I was just kidding? Do you want to go or not, she said. If you're really, really, really, sure about this, I'm in. She shrugged, smiled, and said, we're absolutely fine and we'll be at the beach and you know what that means.

Which sane man would've said no?

Thus, four days ago I spent my first holiday of the year with two chicks. We had a blast, right from the get go. It started on the ferry ride as we nearly heaved towards the island. It was horrendous. I had to summon all my energy and mental strength in order to keep myself from heaving my breakfast of 5 eggs onto the front passanger. Yoga practitioners would've been proud of me. And when we reached the island we checked into the dinkiest hotel on the island, dropped our luggage and headed out on our first adventure. The weather was blazing hot while the humidity was sensationally, urm, humid. We explored the island, took pictures while I posed for them like an escapee from a mental institution and ate and ate and ate everything on sight. Then came dinner which was a feast big enough to feed double our number. I swear to you, them prawns were as long as Waffle Girl and her best friend, G-Milo Girl (don't ask), arms! So after stuffing our faces with delectables island-inspired dishes, we went to the only reggae-themed bar on the island, Babylon Mat Lounge. Now, I'm not a fan of reggae at all but the ambience and the beautiful company made the music sound great. Don't worry, I won't do dreadlocks. I won't go into detail as to what entirely transpired so I'll just skip to the end and say that when it came time to depart, a big sigh of sadness was released as we waved goodbye to the island. Oh, before I forget, the damn ferry back home was freezing cold. Even some English folk that were with us were cold. Brrr! Lastly, when it came to go on our own ways, the sadness multiplied tenfold as it had been an incredible time albeit a short one. But we know we're going to see each other pretty soon*.

It's funny how holidays can change your perception of things as you tend to come back from them a little wiser unless you're a dingbat, of course. You become more aware, more in-tune with yourself and others around you. Especially if you travel with your friends for the first time. You'll learn their quirks and their idiosyncrasies, what they like to eat, what they do when they sleep (sorry for the snoring, I swear, I didn't know I did), but at the end of it you learn to really appreciate their company. And that is what made this trip even more special; friends help you but great friends are there for you. If that doesn't make you humble and appreciative of them then I don't know what will.

The last four days have been mightily interesting and satisfying, to say the least. In some ways, it was like the Amazing Race: we hopped from one island to another within 24 hours. (Okies, it was 2 islands, but we did do the hopping.**) It was hectic. It was moist. It was draining.

But most of all it was helluva fun!

Thank you, Waffle Girl and G-Milo Girl, for this great trip. And if I seemed quiet at some parts, my sincerest apologies. I just wanted to savour the moments where I got to be with the two of you. Also, thank you for entertaining this clown at times as I know I've enlightened you two more about me. I can now get struck by lightning knowing that I slept in the same room with two gorgeous women. 

W00t!

This is Chris, signing off.

* = I took G-Milo Girl's stuff by accident. So, yeah, I have to give it back to her. Tee hee.

** = Actually, it all started in Penang but I'll save that for the next post.

PS: Deep fried chicken skin should be made illegal. They taste so good but so wrong!

Number 18 and counting. Glory, Glory Man United!

Real men don't cry. Sometimes real men do.

I nearly did.

Manchester United drew with Arsenal but that was enough to see them clinch their 18th Premier League title last Saturday. It was one of the best moments of my football life. I may not play the game, but I sure as heck love it!

But the thing that got to me wasn't the end, it was in the 67th minute when a diminutive player from Argentina came off to be replaced. It was emotional, not just for him, he waving to the crowd as though it was his last game, but to all who watched him in person and on the telly. Carlos Tevez may not be as prolific as a goal-scorer he was once when he first started out but his ebullience, tenacity and never-say-die attitude has made him a much loved character to the Old Trafford faithful. All I can say is, keep the bugger. He is worth it. And if Lady Luck has a sense of humour, she'll make sure he punishes Manchester United were he to play for another club. I'm sure of it.

Besides that, while Wolverine was a complete bore and utter disappointment, Angels & Demons was surprisingly good. Tom Hanks for once didn't annoy me with his nasally voice, he actually endeared his character to me. Not bad, Forrest! And, of course, Ayelet Zurer is what a woman is: beautiful, strong and smart. Ooh la la.

Also, I'll be going on my first holiday of the year. Yes, before anyone thinks I'm a workaholic (only if the job is worth it) I thought I might as well unwind a little, especially since the last few months have been trying. I so can't wait to get me some, in my humble opinion, deserved rest and relax.

Here's to better weather and no more cases of H1N1!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Star Trek is absolutely friggin' brilliant!

Bye bye, my friends.

You never really feel the sadness until it finally comes.

The last month or so has brought many departures. It's never easy to lose a colleague, especially a dear one, to another company because you feel, why are they leaving? Did I smell that bad? After awhile you get used to it and working life* goes on. But the spirit of the team is no longer the same. The camaraderie has now been replaced with silence and instant messaging.

So, this post is dedicated to those who've left for much, much better pastures. I would like to thank my two seniors, my brothers Einstein and Jyaki, for teaching me everything I know and helping me to bullshit my way to where I am now. I hope you two boys get to do more things than here. And Angie, I'll see you at Rakuzen with 30 helpings of salmon sashimi.

Good luck to all and may your future be bright.

If you'll excuse me, it's back to the hellhole. Till 3.30pm!

This is Chris, signing off.

* = Working life is not the same as life. Err. Yep.

PS: The weather is so friggin' hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!!!

WolveDUD

Poor Hugh Jackman. Looks like he has to wait yet again for that one movie to take him way above the top.

Wolverine was a dud.

It lacked emotion. It lacked a sense of urgency. Most of all, it lacked rage beyond rage. The only solid thing of the movie was Jackman's incredible muscularity. That, my friends, is what many of us aspiring gym rats aspire to be. But enough of the man praise. Even with his much improved acting skills, he couldn't bring out the suffering, anger, funny and sadness of the character. It probably has to be said that he had to make do with a patchy script as well as some dodgy directing. Bryan Singer, where are you?

But if you're still going to watch this, don't let my comments detract you from doing so. After all, it's good entertainment IF you don't overanalyse it the way I did. Seeing them adamantium claws slicing through things is a lot of fun!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: The lack of blood was kind of weird. Damn the PG13 guidelines!

Guess work can only take you so far.

If I were to give you a task, say, baking a cake, you would most probably be scratching your head. Bake a cake? Me? I don't even know how to turn on the oven. But you give it a go nonetheless. A simple chocolate cake. After all, the end product is something edible and hopefully won't poison me.

Would you like it if I gave you a picture of a chocolate cake and asked you to come up with something similar to it in terms of taste and look? Wait, scrap that something similar bit. I want you to come up with a chocolate cake that looks exactly to the picture in terms of taste and look. How's about that?

What the fucking fuck?!

Would you like it if I gave you something to do but with nary a guide or a pointer, would you like it? You'd probably lambaste me to kingdom come! You really don't care, eh? You really think of me as a lackey boy, always ready to be whipped on the behind just when things go awry? So what if the cake doesn't look like yours, hell, you think I'm the kind of person who does half-bake jobs? (Pardon the pun.)

You then blame me for not asking you how to do it when in the first place you were the one who was supposed to provide me with at least the basic directions. You want my help yet you don't even know how to be courteous enough by giving me tips. This is worse than being selfish; this is plain insidious.

At the end of the day, I just don't have the same ingredients as you, my chocolate is probably not as good as yours. You could be using freaking Godiva while here I am using RM2.00 Cadbury chocolate that's a month shy of expiring.

So what we have here now is a chocolate cake that resembles yours but still isn't quite right. Is it my fault? Maybe. Maybe I should've bugged you to death to help me but I know you. You don't give a shit until shit hits the ceiling.

Do not ever mistake my smile as benignity.

I might just do something really unfortunate to you.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I am going to deadlift 80kgs this week, damnit!

It's not just a game...

It really is more than that.

A game is not just a game, especially if you're willing to forgo normal sleeping hours in order to catch a match at 3 a.m. and then you have to get to work by 7 a.m.

Sleep is a small sacrifice to pay when you're supporting the greatest football club in the world, Manchester United.

While the team may have lost a potential trophy, the spirit and never-say-die attitude will propel them to greater heights.

I, on the other hand, will remain sleepy and cranky till the end of the season.

Gosh, I love football.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Another 2 weeks before Wolverine hits theaters! In the meantime, I shall do my best Hugh Jackman imitation by trying to look as pissed as him.

I have nothing nice to say.

Sigh, another screwed up week is ahead.

Hope yours is better.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Can Manchester United not continue to disappoint me?

Up in flames, they'll be...

...if I had it my way, of course.

Some people just don't deserve to be where they are, yet there they are, sipping on wine bought on money from others' blood and sacrifice. You know these people: they brag, they lie and cheat and they wield a knife to the back of unsuspecting people when it suits their agenda.

I call them swines.

Wait, that's an insult to all cuddly non-pork-destined pigs. These people are parasites; they come, attach themselves to a suitable hosts, suck their vigour and leave them dry and weary when they're done. On to the next victim till they've reached their goals.

I'd like to believe that they will receive their comeuppance, a fitting punishment for their unscrupulous dealings on hapless people who are honest and modest in nature. But we live in a world that is increasingly vicious. It seems that justice is about as common as a man with principles of steel. Its existence is threatened. Greed and jealousy shall be the common denominator from now on.

The corporate ladder never looked so perilous.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This post is dedicated to all the fighters in the working world out there. You know who you are.