X-cited no more

I remember watching the cartoon version religiously. After all, which kid could pass up a cartoon based on the comic book of comicdom? And when news came that a movie adaptation was in the works, I was more excited than a pair of frisky goldfish that after 5 seconds of swimming forgot to be frisky. Why, it's X Men of course. And here's my crappy review of the latest and final instalment of the series.

Seeing actors like Hugh Jackman @ “I have really big muscles”, Ian McKellen @ “Frodo! Stop looking under my cloak!” and Patrick Stewart @ “Stop calling me Jean Luc!” bringing the characters to life on the big screen was simply magical. Both the aforementioned English thespians delivered the goods and more. Halle Barry @ “I wish I was never in Catwoman” proves once again why I don’t like her. She’s pretty and sexy, no problems there but her acting just doesn’t seem to justify her status or her Oscar award. Her thin African accent in the first movie was hopeless and it’s now completely gone (Arnold’s been in America for over 20 years and he stills pronounces California like he was a barmy Austrian). Kelsey Grammer @ “I’m not Frasier anymore!” looks like he’s having a blast as everyone’s favourite blue fur ball, Beast, and it shows in his scenes. Famke Janssen @ “I kill with my thighs” looks a tad haggard here but her mile long legs are still drop dead gorgeous. But the show really belongs to Jackman. I would liked to have seen more emotion either than ‘extremely pissed’ and ‘very sad’ but he managed to keep the whole thing albeit barely.

I don’t really blame the actors for the lack of soul. The script is riddled with hokey lines and an uninspiring plot. It’s like Coke and Pepsi fighting each other but before the real fight begins they’ve both run out of gas. Here’s hoping the Wolverine spin-off will be much, much better.

And there’s Tom Cruise’s money maker, Mission Impossible III. I went it with no expectations whatsoever and I’m glad to report that I came out thoroughly bored and pissed. Yay! The trademark JJ Abrams storytelling technique really suits Tom’s burning desire to be in every frame. As we all know, Mr Abrams enjoys having a motley crew of highly individualistic and spirited merry men. But Mr Cruise must have vetoed and asked that the rest serve as fanboys and cheerleaders while he goes about trampling China’s rooftops. You’re not even bothered to remember their names. The actress playing the wife is pretty and enjoys helping people and wants to have hot sex with her hubby in the medicine closet. The big black guy provides the laughs by being the big black guy. The Irish boy looks like he still couldn’t believe it that he’s in a very expensive film (think boy in candy store the size of a football field). There’s the Asian chick that is so skinny, Mr Cruise’s grin actually weighs more. There’s the dude from the Matrix who is basically Morpheus without the happy blue pill (or was it red?). Finally and certainly least, the overweight villain who’s completely wasted here and who doesn’t even get to die an exciting death.

I guess I’ll just have to watch V for Vendetta again for something that actually is good.

Chris is signing off. For now….
PS: This blog will self-destru… BAH!

5 things you think you know about me

All right, I’ve run out of topics to write. My brain has for some strange reason been put on ‘Temporarily Out of Stuff to Write’. Therefore, since I can’t really think of anything to comment, I might as well write about things that I know very intimately.

After all, this is my blog.

So I present to you, the 5 things you think you know about me and the truth behind it all.

1. People think I’m mean and violent.
It’s the face. It has to be it. The non-existent smile. The eyes that could rip a bear into two. The stone face I put on when I don’t want people disturb me (especially sales people). I like my fair share of violence but only in the movies and games. I don’t really bash kids you know.

2. People think I only listen to metal and rock.
Look, I can listen to metal and rock the whole day. I’ve been doing so for the past 8 years. But that doesn’t mean I’m totally ignorant to other genres. In fact, I can identify songs and artistes way better than some of my friends who claim to listen or in the know. Pffft.

3. People think I’m the supreme master of the English language.
I do admit that my command of the language is above average to say the least, but that doesn’t mean I know the meaning to every single word. I recognize a lot of words but their meaning eludes me most of the time so much so that even after repeated checks with the trusted dictionary, I’ll forget in seconds. To those who understood completely all the V’s that were spouted in V for Vendetta, I bow to thee.

4. People think I can eat like a bloody pig (or cow for a kosher version).
I may have the physicality of a bear but that doesn’t mean that my stomach is able to hold 3 persons’ worth of food. Take for example the genial old lady at my college’s canteen. It’s like she thinks I’m lying whenever I ask her to lessen the amount of rice she puts on my plate. It could have fed a whole village in Western Vietnam for crying out loud!

5. People tend to think I joke a lot.
When I’m sad, people will question me to no end as to why I am in such a predicament. Or when I get mad and angry people tend to think that I’m having man-period. Look here buddy, comedians and jokers can be the most serious people in the world simply because we’re also human. The funny bone can’t be tickled all the time you know.

And as a bonus, I present to you another thing you think you know about me.

6. I’m afraid of stairs, ladders and escalators.
I always like to walk as though I am the ultimate ruler of the world. What this actually means is that I try to look as cool and macho as possible. Me being the egoist, I tend to look forward and walk as though I had smelled a smelly sock. But the embarrassing truth is that I’m pretty clumsy when I encounter steps of any kind. It’s like gravity wants to play a cruel joke and conspires with vertigo to make me feel as though I might fall off the very first step of a staircase.

But at least I have nice legs to show off. Tee hee.

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: If an escalator brings you up, then a descendalator should in fact, bring you down?

Love at first BLAH

I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on her. It was just after I had moved out and after saving my money for a future that came earlier than expected I decided that a little soul searching would do me good. So there I was, walking silently and minding my own business when all of a sudden, I stopped outside a brightly lit shop. She was there, like she was expecting me. I couldn’t believe my own eyes. I went nearer.

Her body was encased in the finest black gown. Her face was clear and animated. Her voice was a perfect sonata. It was after all, love at first sight.

For she is my iPOD nano.

To me, the saying “Love at first sight” is something I’ve never actually experienced though there have been times where it has come real close. Like for example, the first time ever I stepped into a real metal shop. No offence to the auntie’s shop at Campbell Complex but this shop here in Singapore was of the highest order. Seeing so many metal CDs almost brought tears to my eyes. Or like the time when I saw a real Ferrari Enzo here in Malaysia Admittedly, I was never a fan of the car. I thought it was too birdy looking. Then when I saw it, I was immediately mesmerized. I was speechless. I even touched it but just a little for fear of scratching it with my short fingernails. And then when the owner powered its engine, the unmistakeable roar resonated in the sky. Now every time I see or hear a tricked out car, I chuckle softly knowing that I’ve witnessed one of the best cars ever in the history of humankind.

But when it comes to applying that saying to people, I have yet to know its true meaning. What I thought was ‘Love at first sight’ was actually ‘Like at first sight’ or the slightly embarrassing, ‘Lust at first sight’. This is especially true when it comes to my encounters with girls. More often than not, I seem to have a knack for saying some of the stupidest and inane things ever to be unleashed unto unsuspecting females. In my mind, I think what I am saying is always witty and smart and that girls would think that, “Hey, this guy’s pretty cool.” But their facial expressions tell me that I should’ve kept my mouth shut and instead go find a cure for ‘putting the foot in the mouth’ syndrome.

Shit.

There comes a time when 9 out of 10 times you’ll most likely to meet people you’ll probably forget you knew existed in mere seconds. But like lightning on a clear, blue sky there’ll be this one person who you meet for the first time and go, “Wow.” It is in this kind of situation that I truly am hopeless and afraid of. Besides feeling absolutely gob smacked, my brain will be scrambling to find the words and when I do my mouth will naturally spew out the wrong ones.

So after many, many (highly embarrassing) attempts at trying to be a suave and smooth Casanova, I’m leaving all my hopes on Fate. While Fate has undoubtedly been rather hard on me the last few times, I’m hoping that now I’ll have Lady Luck by my side.

After all, with so many ‘ladies’ behind my back, what could go wrong eh?

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: I miss having intelligent conversations with pretty girls who (eerily) have the same likes as me.

Wow, it’s been a while eh?

Recently I had the opportunity to join a really big company that would have given me the chance to prove my quality. It didn’t require me to troubleshoot problems relating to “How do I turn on my computer?” but rather, it entailed me to call complete strangers from a list of leads in order for me to present to them an investment opportunity like no other in the market today. Phew.

It was the perfect job.

But I declined it.

For starters, I suck when it comes to sales. I can’t even ‘sell’ myself let alone try and sell a concept to someone who could be a long lost uncle. Sure I thought it’d be a walk in the park. After all, what’s so hard about picking up the phone, dialling some numbers and then sweet talk the fellow into booking an appointment? There are ways and boy, there are ways. If the person can’t agree on the time, then it’s up to me to set a date. If the person feels that it’s a scam then I’ll to reassure him that I’m not selling anything but merely showing him an opportunity. Heck, some of the boys even trade tactics on how to coerce prospective clients. So there I was—for a day—trying my best to sound like professional who’s been in the business for years.

I had no problems with making the calls. I had no problems when it came to learning the ways on how to close a deal. I also had no problems when it came to working under a bloody strict yet downright pretty boss. Yet I walked away from an opportunity of a lifetime.

The problem that I did have was ME.

I don’t know how to explain it. I tried explaining it to my best friends and family but I ended up confounding myself. You know the feeling that you get when you try something new and almost in an instant you feel that, “Nah, this ain’t right for me.” Granted, I experienced it for only a day but to me I felt that it was enough to make a wise (hopefully) decision to walk away from a job that could potentially be the most rewarding experience of my life.

Was it the stress? Was it the cold calls I had to make? Was it because I was a coward and I didn’t want to face my fears?

Or was it simply because I listened to my heart and made a decision based on pure instinct?

Yes I wanted money. Yes I wanted the fame (I imagined I was being congratulated by the big boss himself). But above it all, I want to have a good lifestyle. But I will not go about it by sacrificing the most important things in my life: my beliefs, principles and integrity. You can call me anything you want; a quitter, a loser, a person who can’t take the heat. I left because I wanted to. I’m out of a game I know I won’t be able to play well. Not at this point in time anyway.

I have no regrets whatsoever. I feel that I’ve become more learned and wiser. I left on my own terms and no one can deny me that fact.

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: I thank everyone who I met during my extremely brief stint. You know who you are.

There’s something in them mountains I tell you…

It is 3.45 friggin’ a.m. I should be sleeping. I should be counting sheep. But I can’t. Not now. You see, I’ve just finally watched that darn cowboy movie. You know the one with two of Hollywood’s most promising young actors? It was also directed by that soft spoken Taiwanese who gave us that Chinese movie where the people could fly and young maidens could inflict serious damage to the auspicious jade balls of men. And guess what, it’s about 2 gay men and their forbidden love. No, it’s not Queer Eye for the Straight Cowboy, it is Brokeback Mountain!

And guess what? I kinda like it.

All right, we all know this movie and if you don’t, it’s either you’re ignorant about current cinema or you have taken shelter somewhere on a remote island to get away from the avian flu and petrol raises. So there’s really no need for me to tell you what it is about.

Heath Ledger while adroit at portraying his character’s emotions doesn’t really articulate his words well. It’s bad enough that the words come out from clenched teeth from a mouth that opens at a fraction, he even mumbles them. Jake on the other hand, played the jilted (and apparently, under sexed as well) “woman” quite well. And when he told off his father-in-law, I was rooting for him all the way.

Everybody’s favourite Disney princess, Anne Hathaway, makes an appearance as Jake Glylidunnohowtospellhisnameenhaal’s wife. In her desperate attempt to shake away her bubbly and bumbling image, she does what every actress who wants to be taken as a serious actress, by going topless. Yet again. Her other partial nude act was in Havoc. Albeit briefly, we do get a cameo of Ms. Hathaway’s boobs. While I commend her for taking on more serious roles, I can’t help but feel that she’s trying way too hard. The other actress (I don’t really care for her) was all right la.

So is the fuss about it justified? In a way, yes. 2 cowboys in the early 60’s fall in love while herding sheep in the mountains. You just don’ get it more exciting than that. Really. I won’t say more simply because it’s a movie that has to be watched in order to fully understand its story. Telling you will make it as though it is simply a gay movie, when in truth, it’s more than that. And yes, I got slightly freaked when a particular love scene took place. Let’s just say nothing will be able to top that for a long time.

To all the guys who plan to watch it, do so with a very open mind. Otherwise you’ll turn it off as soon as you see the two protagonists embracing one another.

Chris is signing off, Yeehaw!

PS: “I wish I knew how to quit you.” Dang, what a cool line.

I kinda like shopping. Ehehe.

You guys remember my hypermarket post? Well, for those who’ve forgotten (tsk tsk), here’s a short recap: I am the kind of hypermarket person that gets in, grabs what I need then goes to the payment counter that doesn’t have a mile long queue, and leaves the building. Simple no?

Well, it too applies to my shopping habits. I get in, go to the stores that have the things that I need, pay the exact amount if possible (I’m not a big fan of shillings in my pockets so I’ll try to get rid of them whenever the opportunity arises.) then finally leave with the loot. Simple no?

Well, not anymore.

Shopping is really fun now.

Okay, before any of you females start looking up to the skies and saying prayers of ecstasy because of my sudden declaration, I must reveal that I have always enjoyed my shopping excursions. There’s nothing like opening the wrapping of an album or when you finally get to put on that maroon shirt with little pandas on it.

It’s just that I don’t do window shopping well. I don’t see the need for me to gawk at clothes which I’ll never buy let alone buy. I’m pragmatic when it comes to my choice of clothes, which means mostly black tees and three-quarter pants for most of my outings. “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke,” that’s what I say.

To know the true Malaysian, just plunk yourself at a shopping mall and observe away! Rich or poor, horribly dressed or barely there, whenever there’s a SALE sign, you’ll find that it brings out the best and worst of people. Many a time I’ve seen neatly dressed women massacring the bargain bin in search of the elusive size M and the poor sales girl who has to refold the whole bin again for the bajillionth time.

You see, I have the utmost respect for sales persons. I know it’s not easy when you have to serve customers, especially us Malaysians who can be disgustingly rude at times that it makes you wonder whether the education system isn’t doing much for manners or they were raised by demons. But for the love of everything that is doe eyed and cute, stop following me while I peruse the underwear section! If I need help, I will let you know. I will not steal that RM10 box of boxers!

Ever noticed that there are now more men shopping? Or rather, men in pairs. These duos tend to dress alike even. You get the rugged ones who’ll dress in my style looking at men stuff (i.e. women) and of course, the metrosexual or the happy-to-shop-with-a-stubble-and-wearing-tight-jeans-to-emphasize-the-bumsexuals. Ugh, I’m not against men wanting to be over the top stylish but c’mon, a whole suit of pink? Oh my lordy.

So where do I like to shop? Mid Valley is the only place where the rich and the not-so-rich can gather and be really merry while chewing (free of bird flu) chicken drumsticks. KLCC is by far the swankiest mall ever with more and more teens wanting to show off their smoking skills and their dress sense which is akin to a bear trying to wear an apron. 1 Utama is like a marathon in a mall. All you do is walk from one shop to the other in 30 minutes and realize that the shop you’re looking for is at another corner, 20 minutes extra. BSC is where you can find white men who tend to wear shorts that are 2 sizes small and tees that don’t really cover their bellies. Oh, you get the picture right?

So if you see a lumbering guy with a cap, a black tee and three-quarter pants, stop him for it might be me. If not, I’m the guy with the maroon shirt with little pandas on it.

Chris is signing off, for now…

PS: To Chinese families who bring their dogs along with them, STOP IT!

Oh my gosh begosh! I have to change my lifestyle!

30 friggin fucken cents. Who would have thought that such a tiny amount could cause so much uproar? I remember the days of when I could pump in RM30 worth of petrol and it would be enough to get me from there to there, 5 times to and fro. And I’d still have enough to buy me a bowl of good ole cendol half way across town. But those days are long gone.

Gone are my days of speeding recklessly because seeing that petrol meter go down instantly every time I accelerate just tugs at my frugal heart. But every single time I want to just cruise on the roads, there’ll always be some punk or grandma lurking somewhere with a top speed of 60km/h on the bloody fast lane. If you can’t handle it, don’t be on that lane asshole!

It is an odd world we live in when people’s hearts don’t skip a heartbeat when it comes to buying a RM2000 handphone but they’ll baulk at the poor char kuey teow seller’s announcement that due to the rising cost of cockles, he has to raise the price of one plate of the blackened, grease filled goodness from RM3.50 to an incredulously overpriced RM3.80. And these are the same people who don’t even know how to use the dictionary when SMS-ing!

But the real champions of this whole issue have to be the youths. Or to be more precise, the dumb and ignorant youths. They do not seem to be bothered in the slightest while the rich bratty ones don’t even give a damn. A typical Paris Hilton remark would be: “I’ll just have to ask daddy for more. I think another 500 bucks will do. Hehehe.” So what, right?

You all know the saying, “Practice what you preach” right? Then how about we let some of the big shots with their equally big tummies to do away with their chauffeur driven big cars and take the bus to go to their functions. This is the kind of an impression that might make the hoi polloi follow suit. I’ve been advocating public transport ever since I sat in my first Mini Bus. During those glorious (and bloody dangerous) days, I used to jostle with everyone; other kids, adults and a couple of grandmas so that I could get in. Who needed air-conditioning when you had the wind at 150km/h blowing in your face?

It’s been a while since the petrol increase and yes, I am one of those who have taken measures to curb any wastage or any unnecessary expenditure. From being a rather stingy bugger I am now a fully fledged stingy bugger.

So what’s next? Will I start recycling my bath water for later use? Will I use paper fans to fan myself vigorously? Will I start eating bread and butter and cheap jam for the rest of my life?

Man, I need to get me a job.

Chris is signing off, for now…

PS: Job hopping is all right. Just don’t do job skipping.

PPS: Sorry for the incoherent feel of the post.

I like reality shows because they're sooo real

So-called reality shows either irk me to no end or leave me in total suspense. I wouldn’t say I’m a supporter, but rather a person curious to see what people are really capable of. And since I am unemployed and I have the TV all to myself, I’ve been watching quite a number of these shows lately. And from my observation, I can sum up the traits or the necessary ingredients of a reality show into these:

• A host that is both friendly and frank and supportive of the contestants. And they MUST to look hot.

• Every reality show MUST have the well-liked or all-rounder good guy/gal that appeals to both genders. This person will then be cheered on and even if he/she makes a boo boo, they’ll be forgiven in an instant because they’re so darn nice.

• Every reality show MUST have its she-bitch and he-bitch that will appeal (or in many cases, disgust) to both genders. These people will also have a proclivity toward being overly egotistical and they think they’re right all the time. For them to eat humble pie is like trying to reduce the gas in Pepsi.

So far, I find myself enjoying America’s Next Top Model mainly because of the very beautiful and terrifically babelicious, Tyra Banks. Sure she keeps saying the same things over and over again and her expressions are one-dimensional but damn the woman looks good. But the main attraction is of course, the would-be models. Some of them are so dumb it makes me miserable. Even the non-blondes are dumber. I’ve slapped my forehead in frustration so many times just by watching this bloody show. And those effeminate men can really bitch eh?

Next up is a mix bag of some of the shows I’ve watched. Project Runway is farking boring and it’s just one of those shows where I’ll watch for 5 minutes and I’ll turn off the telly and then proceed to bash my head against the wall. Made to Order is one of my favourites. It’s not really a reality show in the sense of it but it is realer than most. Seeing that dude with the funky hairdo create some of the most aesthetically pleasing foods is simply amazing. We all know who won Rockstar: INXS but watching the re-runs of it still makes me jump and yell at some of the performances. Dave Navarro I have to say is the prettiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also it has made me more aware of the roots of rock music. And by the way, I can’t wait for Marty to release his own album. I want to hear “Trees” damnit!

And since this is a blog about bitching and ranting, I’m going to focus my attention on the cream of the crappytastic crop. Not long ago, one of the local TV stations came up with a show called Malaysia’s Most Beladyful. Oops, I meant Malaysia’s Most Beautiful. The concept was this; after choosing women who represent the following type: egotistical, bitchy and whiny bout every thing, angelic, voluptuous, dumb, arrogant, adorable… they will then have to go through tests, obstacles, period and other whatevers, and then finally be crowned The Most Beladyful. Sorry! Beautiful, damn. Its premise while on paper sounds interesting, just exposed the ugly side to some of the participants. And I hear there’s another season coming. Oh my.

With the proliferation of more reality shows, it makes me wonder, what will come out next? Malaysia’s Best Farmer? The Rotiman Cometh? Project Pasar Malam? What is the world coming to?

I guess I have to tune in next week.

Chris is signing off, for now…

PS: The new season of Yankee Idol is not that all exciting. Simon should really lay off the tight tops. Protruding man nipples are gross. The girls are much nicer to look at though. Yay!

Ah, Valentine’s Day. What more can I say?*

* = Quite a lot actually.

So how did last February 14th go for you? I hope it went well. Mine certainly did. I managed to sell off some of my CDs and I had a great dinner with my family. So what’s so great? The fact that it had no meaning to me whatsoever either than me spending it with my family. I had no date. I’m still single and so loving it. Whee!

All right, I’m going to be all slightly Scroogy but I’ll tell you this, Valentine’s Day is just another day of my life. I didn’t shit heart shaped turds. I wasn’t serenaded by a fat, moustached and violin wielding Italian while I ate my chicken chop for lunch. I didn’t get any mysterious calls or smses from equally mysterious strangers. The last time I ever had Valentine’s as a day to remember and to a certain extent, a reason for celebrating it, was with this girl who I couldn’t see often let alone go on dates with. But I remember it being special because someone actually liked me enough and decided that, well, loving this bloke was worth it.

To me Valentine’s is the day where couples celebrate their love for each other on a more visible and grandeur way. For the singletons, it’s just another day. It’s gone completely berserk with everyone wanting a piece of the heart shaped money bag. Think about this: your partner will make you pay for not remembering it. How could you? Valentine’s is so commercialized that even Lillian Too (the horribly dyed hair lady and together with her daughter who has equally has horribly dyed hair.) has come up with heart shaped jades the size of small hills to enhance the energy of that special room of your house. Hint of its benefits: wink wink. Ah ha, ah ha.

There’s no way in hell I would spend 300 bucks on roses that will die the next day. I’d rather take that money and invest it in property. Call me anything you want, but I’ll call myself pragmatic.

And as cliché as it sounds, to me, every day is a cause to celebrate my love for my partner and I don’t need no one to remind me.

It’s also much cheaper to do so. He he.

Chris is signing off, for now…

PS: CSI is back! Yay! And Lost is coming soon too! Whee! (Completely unrelated but what the heck, it’s my blog. :))

To move forward, is to not look back

Surely by looking back, you might feel a sense of intense trepidation. You’ve always thought you’d leave the roost once you’re old enough. Once you’re stable and secure. But that normally happens in the movies. What really happens is that you don’t know what’s in store for you. You might feel that you might not make it when the time comes for you to jump. You’ve an anchor tied to your legs, keeping you firmly where you are. But then one day you’re thrust a knife. You see an island of hope and freedom but at the same time you rub eyes, thinking whether it is an illusion or not. But deep down inside of you, you know that it’s much better than being tied still. You have to grow. You have to prove to yourself that you can be better than you already are.

So you take the knife, you cut the rope that holds the anchor. For a while you think, maybe I’ve should’ve waited. Maybe what I’m doing now will lead me to my downfall. But not cutting the rope when you had the chance is like taking the knife and stabbing yourself in the back.

Chris is signing off, for now…

PS: Did you know that you could get yourself a fridge, a washing machine and a television for only RM1900?

I'm grabbing life by the balls

Sometimes fate deals out a card that will either make you want to break down and wish for the Apocalypse or you could do the most logical and sane thing, carry on and prove that fate's just a horrid old beeyatch. Sure life will be one helluva bumpy ride ala Kuala Lumpur potholes of death because of the many obstacles that will be faced but I'm going out with all guns blazing.

Therefore, I bid you all adieu for the moment while jump start a new chapter in my life. This is by no means the end of my blogging, it's just something temporary which will render me unable to update as much as I want to. I'm gonna miss reading many of you comments and your respective blogs (I'm directing this at Richard, Jingy, and especially to the dynamic duo of Syar and Nadia, these have been great to me and they're really awesome writers who inspire to me write more). I will miss it dearly. But once I get settled down, when the sea calms and its water is as cool and serene as before the storm, I will return...

Chris is signing off, for now...

TONG TE TE CHANG! TONG TE TE CHANG!

*caveat: if you’re the type that is easily offended when someone pokes fun at lanterns, fireworks, waxed ducks, bak kwa and other things related to Chinese New Year (CNY), PLEASE, PLEASE, READ ON.

As those of you who know my being rather Scroogy when it comes to celebrations of any sort, this year I’m going to try to be less Scroogy. Let’s see, for me Christmas is about seeing girls wearing skimpy dresses and far too short skirts (it happens in churches here WITHOUT FAIL. Practically tradition it is.). Hari Raya is all about eating far too much ketupat and rending and other meaty meats (i.e. NOT lamb :P) while watching Siti Nurhaliza (I like her) belt yet another Raya song. Whereas for Deepavali, it’s about eating with hands (I’m quite proficient unlike some of my friends who tend to shove their hand instead of the food. Seeing them wince in pain is so much fun.), and devouring as much vegetarian chicken as humanly possible. But for me, CNY is all about the red packets and seeing girls in skimpy dresses and far too short skirts and going through it sulky and wishing I was somewhere far, far away from it.

I grew up not knowing what the hullabaloo was all about. I see red packets, I go delirious. That’s it. And not forgetting the massive feast the day before which is given the rather portentous title of Reunion Dinner. It’s where all the brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents and relatives gather to eat more food than is normally eaten. My memories of CNY are always the same: me being left by myself because none of my cousins could understand me, aunties trying to outdo each other’s bouffant and overall auntieness, uncles boasting and guffawing at the top of their lungs about absolutely nothing while the grandfather calls me up to his room, surreptitiously opens his cupboard and gives me extra ang pow.

While it may seem that my CNYs are all right but to be very frank, I hate it. Seriously, I couldn’t give a shit. It’s not like Confucius is going to appear out of thin air and say, “You bad boy. No play the filewoks! No olanges!” or the ever glib businesswoman Lillian Too with the extremely awful dyed hair (She looks like a burnt mangosteen.) is going to personally espouse the virtues of some green stone which can make your house more feng shuied. I’m not bothered by it. To me, it’s just another day. The only difference is that I have to wear red instead of my customary black (groan, red makes me look like an over-ripe tomato.), I have to be nice to people I have no clue who they are even though they know me.

I tend to have a crummy and dreadful time at my dad’s side whereas at my mom’s I will ALWAYS have a ball of a time. You won’t find any faux pas nonsense; it’s all about the family. Everyone is genuinely happy to see one another. And the food, bah! It’s way better here. This post may come across as bitter, angry or even sacrilegious.

Chris signing off…

PS: Have a great Chinese New Year to those who celebrate it. And don’t eat too much olanges ya. ;)

Chris’s Weird Weirds

Syar has bequeath onto me a most pernicious and salacious mission that I simply cannot refuse. It’s called a meme, a term that may seem ambiguous at first but when you keep repeating it loudly over and over and over again, makes perfect sense. It involves me digging very deep into the very being of well, me. So without further ado (and other cryptic messages), I present to you: Chris’s Weird Weirds.

1. Weird habit: This is really, really hard. As those of you who know me, my idiosyncrasies are far and wide and downright bizarre. But I would have to say that my weirdest habit is that I can read a book, magazine etc, listen to music (really loud and heavy stuff) and once in a while I’ll throw in a couple of push-ups. At the same time. Don’t ask me how I do it because I just do it.

2. Weird aversion: Oh my. This is one tricky as heck weird theme. I have literally tonnes of aversions. I guess my biggest aversion would be anchovies and dried prawns. And cockles (or in its more popular known name: kerang). For the life me, I can’t devour those blighters. I’ll spend ages carefully removing any anchovy from my plate of nasi lemak. The same goes for the dried prawns. Yucks.

3. Weird anatomy: Hahaha! Now this weird theme is really hilarious. I guess it would have to be my feet. I wear size 11 shoes, sometimes 12 depending on the cutting. What is weird is that I’m only 5’8 and stocky and I have shoes that are reminiscent of Ronald McDonald’s. Think a bouncer with dorky glasses.

4. Weird sayings: Yet another tricky one. There are quite a number of things I love to say especially lines from movies, music or whatever. I usually change some of the words to enhance so to speak. Unfortunately, I only use them when I remember to but at this point in time, I don’t recall any of hand. Some of my favourites (the ones I DO remember): Holy cow of God! Oh my Godness!

5. Weird posse: I wouldn’t say that the posse I associate with is weird; it’s me that’s the weird bit. He he. It’s mainly because I tend to hang out with people who are either criminally insane or slightly demented.

In hindsight, I’m pretty sure my mind will change and the list above will be different slightly or radically. But I think the above represent me best at present condition. Thanks for reading.

Chris signing off…

PS: To my good (and highly demented) friend, Richard I bequeath onto thee to write your own meme. Go go!

Kids are wonderful

It's a magical thing when kids think you're cool. Seriously, being cool in their eyes is well, cool. Kids being kids will hate you once you make them pissed. Of course, you have to be a complete jerk to accomplish such a feat.

I'll be the first to admit that children under 12 scare the bejesus out of me simply because I’ve not a clue on how to handle them. Do I play along and go "Goo goo bah!" or do I be the meanie with a perpetual stern look? Not too long ago, I figured it out. Finally, I now know the secret. The secret to make kids believe that you're one of them. I’m in the inner sanctum of Kiddom. All I had to do was just talk to them. Of course, talk to them about their likes and dislikes and not how one does detects a face using algorithms from Laplace, Sobel and Canny.

After much time spent with my wee free cousins, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not the ogre I thought I was. Sure I do feel like smacking overly rude and downright stubborn children who after repeated threats of bodily harm, continue to wreck your beautifully trimmed bonsai trees. Or trying to see whether or not lil Jack the terrier has worms in its tummy, with a machete no less. I gush (ugh, this is so unChris) whenever I see babies and kids. Provided they're cute and not bugging the heck out of me.

In their eyes, adults are just bigger people with even bigger wallets. They see us older folk as a means to fuel their passion of cheap plastic toys made in Taiping, contraband like fireworks the size of my shoes (11) and sweets so sweet I swear diabetics will run away for dear life. But it's all good really. To see their smiles, the laughter, the pure joy of it and its innocence, is simply priceless.

The greatest achievement so far for me was when I made friends with this little girl who upon seeing me beat my cousin at rock, paper and scissors, announced that she can beat me. Me being the obliging guy, proceeded to beat her senseless. Her incredulous look every time she lost left in me stitches. She even sat on my lap at one point. And I found out later on that she's actually a really shy, quiet girl and doesn't take to anyone easily.

That's when I realized that the world is not that bad a place when there's such happiness and purity.

Chris signing off...

PS: I can tolerate naughtiness to a certain extent but if it happens to be the spawn of some cacodemon, then that's a different story...

Catharsis Overkill: The Concluding Chapter of Chris's College-capades

I love the word “catharsis”. It makes me sound smarter whenever I say it. On 23rd December 2005, I felt the full release of the emotional baggage I’ve carried for 3 years.

On that day, it was the last exam ever for most of us. For my stream, it was the easiest paper ever. For the rest, it was their hardest paper ever. (My abuse of the word “ever” does not stop here by the way). It did help that we had some *coughhelpintheformoftheactualquestionscough* tips before the exam. It was like activating cheat codes in a game, fun as heck but it makes you feel like a loser for not trying your best. I left the exam hall victorious but it was nothing meritorious about it.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve watched far too much American shows where every time there’s a gathering or whatever you call it, feelings and actions of all kinds will be displayed. Oddly enough, none of that happened. This is may be due to the Asian culture of ours, it could be because that APIITians are just unemotional automatons who’re hell-bent in creating the ultimate program. There was not a single person who mimicked a waterfall of tears. There weren’t any embraces that would have put bears hugging bears to shame. Strangely, there was more of the manly man type of hug where the dudes involved will embrace by grabbing each other’s hand while the other hand pats the back and saying things such as, ‘Macha all the best ya’, ‘Dude all the best ya’, ‘Yo Mafaka you, take care ya hear me?’ The women folk of course did the air kissing of each other’s cheeks. Smiles and lots of camera flashes bore witness to the unspectacular and tepid end to our tertiary education.

Since it was only 1pm and most of us were quite hungry even though our dear college threw us a farewell party (it was more like “Get the Heck Outta Here Lah” farewell), we headed to good ole McD’s for lunch. After devouring my fries, Big Mac (which was bloody hell tinier than the last time I ate it (which was about 2 years ago)) in about 2 minutes, I spent the next hour or so sitting next to my dear friend who shall be known as Amritsar. As we were in the middle of a group of unemployed and uncertain of graduating people, we chatted about gory movies, how much we’re actually terrified of them and intermittently talking to the rest. I could hear from her side tales of someone’s brother’s cousin’s sister’s friend’s uncle who knows another uncle’s friends from somewhere who did something and in the end, in true Bollywood fashion, they all lived happily ever after. My side was mostly tales of how Singaporeans treated them poorly and how spacious the taxis were. And not forgetting how the chicks dressed. Ooo.

As I was driving back home, wonky feelings started to creep out slowly. It was like a cross between of relief and sadness. Relief because of obvious reasons while sadness for well, even more obvious reasons. Let me put it this way: Last day of college = last day I’ll probably see some of these people. Call me sentimental. Call me sappy (but not the Richard Clayderman kind of sappy yes?). The memories will be cherished. It will be reminisced whenever I and my friends get together. We’ll laugh. We’ll cry. We’ll sigh. We’ll smile. But most importantly, I’m glad and proud I went through the many dimensions of hell together with my friends cos honestly, it was well worth the trip.

Chris signing off…

PS: O right, this is going to be my last college based post for the time being. Hope you all enjoyed reading.

The only constant in life is... Change

Inevitably, as everything in life undergoes entropy of some sort (this does not apply to the Rolling Stones apparently), so do mere mortals such as myself. Hair will start to fall, teeth soon after and a most unpleasant pot belly will erupt out of nowhere.

So with the new year in my mind (and of the fact that I am sitting here in Starbucks all by myself, dead bored and watching people order their lattes and fraps while trying to look as hip as possible while sipping their drinks. I have absolutely nothing to do for the next 3 hours or so really) I thought, what the heck, let's do a Queer Eye for the Straight Blog on my blog of course!

A change is necessary, no doubt. I'm unemployed (Teehee) and I haven't thought about anything else besides wanting to shoot pink bunnies. Just kidding bout the bunny thing, maybe I'll catch up on my reading and of course, my never ending metal (the music kind, not the metallury one OK) eductaion. So I hope to land meself a job by next month, save as much as I can and God-willing, get a small place for myself.

So until the next post, take care and have a nice weekend.

Chris signing off...

PS: Green tea fraps are teh bomb.

2005: The Good, The Bad, The Fugly

*caveat: This is going to be a rather long post, so either leave now with your sanity intact or please proceed further…

Ah, 2005. The year where my birthday looked like this: 050505. I turned 21 on that day. All right, enough of the Lillian Too special. Looking back, 2005 was the most terrifying and satisfying roller coaster ride of my life.

It started where 2004 left me, in immensely excruciating back pain. I greeted 2005 on my bed, staring at the ceiling wondering if could go back to normal. To cut a painful story short, my back finally behaved but it also ended any chance of me doing any sports unless I want Mister Very Painful Pain to come a knocking on my spine again. No more wearing tight spandex was the only consolation.

I finally travelled! And now there’re 2 stamps in my passport. All from Singapore but hopefully soon it’ll be filled with other countries’ stamp. The best part of travelling to someone’s country is that you feel more of yourself, and you think that other people are odd because they obey the traffic rules. While Singapore shares quite a big number of similarities with us, it’s the “Hey we do that too back in Malaysia but you guys seem to do it differently” things that leaves a smile on my face. It makes proud to be a Malaysian even though I dislike most of the people.

So the beginning of my last year in college I was tossed unto a cold floor without a soft, pink pillow to cushion the impact. All the crap that kept being shoved into my face however made me stronger and realized that this is really do or die. Suffice to say, while I could have done a much better job if I’d only concentrated harder, I’m pretty proud of the fact that I managed to do most of the work by myself as opposed to some who ‘borrowed’ or even procured their entire system for a fee. 2005 was also where classes seemed to be at their best simply because of the great people who were a part of it and who’re now my dear friends. I’ve forged some new relationships and solidified further already existing ones. To all my friends, I thank you all, you know who you are.

2005 also brought the Most Crushes Ever outbreak. For the life of me, I really didn’t know why I fell for so many girls at first. Now I know that it was all merely me wanting to believe that these girls were right for me. In a strange and eerie way, they could’ve have been but it wouldn’t be fair to them since I don’t feel that I’m the right one for them. However, there was one ‘episode’ which produced some fairly interesting results. However I didn’t take any action even though there were some positive signs from her. Sigh, I’ll never know…

As the days came rolling by, I became more and more aware of myself really. I learned more about how to be Me. Maybe it’s me turning 21, which finally and officially means that I am an adult. It’s like when Peter Parker finds out that by Spider-Man, it means with great power, comes great responsibility. Being 21 doesn’t make you powerful, it just means that you’re no longer a child. I feel that I’m more cynical, grouchier yet more understanding and patient at the same time as a result of my ‘new’ way of thinking the things I think about.

Below are the things I’m hoping for in 2006:

Find me a woman (not really high on the Must-Do-Ya list but what the heck, I’ll keep my sensors on full search mode).
My woman would have to be able to withstand the gale like forces of my utterances, thoughts and of course, my acerbic sarcasm on life’s trivialities. She would have to calm me down whenever my face turns redder than red due to extreme stupidity of some jackasses. But most importantly she would have to completely understand that no matter what, I’m her man and not even a stalker with pantyhose on his head and a machete will stop me from loving her.

Drive more patiently.
On second thought, nah, don’t think this will happen. Ever.

Listen to other stuff besides metal and rock.
Nah.

Stop putting on weight just because I ate two helpings of mud cake.
I don’t want to buy any more new trousers la! Dockers are expensive la!

And finally,
My life to be predictably unpredictable. What’s life without FUN?

So there you have it folks, my recap of 2005. Some things were left out naturally due to forgetfulness though I can assure many of you that I didn’t leave out the juicy bits. I bid all of you adieu for now, I’ll be back next year with more tales for sure. So until then, Happy New Year and stay beautiful. Even if you’re not, just think you’re beautiful la. Okie dokey? :P

Chris signing off…

PS: Narnia >>>>>>>>>>> King Kong :)

Byebye Education World, Hello Fun Fun Fun World!

I think this is where I explain certain things. There's only 1 more week to go. 1 more week before what has been a ride of a lifetime will come to an end. It'll be like letting freedom ring with a shotgun blast. What took 3 and a half years all of a sudden feels like it was only yesterday I stepped into the room filled with eager-faced, genuinely-innocent-before-all-the-corruption-and-vice souls who were just as nervous and sweaty who are now my friends for life. And not forgetting the first time I ever saw a butt crack that did not belong to ANY of my relatives.

I remember thinking to myself that I would be the token loner of the class. I honestly didn't think I would make many friends. Oh boy was I seriously wrong. And Everybody Loves Raymond kinda dumb. The first year was spent getting to know the people and just growing up. Somehow, when you're 18 you think you're the biggest, the wisest mofo on the block but that quickly turned to embarrassment when I was put in my place. Suffice to say, that was only the beginning of a long road...

Second year was spent making mistakes and learning from them. Well, most of it anyway. It also gave me the opportunity to get to know more people and also be a part of something special. While my second year was plagued with many shitty incidents and downright sad moments, I wouldn't want to trade those experiences for anything because I believe it made me more of a man. It made me buck up, and say, "Hell yeah! This life of mine is meant to be something of a great plan and I ain't gonna ruin it by making funny faces!". Well, I of course still ended up doing funny faces (as evident in the many photos of me) but the fact of the matter remains the same; i'm living life the way I want to.

Third year was/is simply amazing. The best year ever. The final stepping stone in being a college student. Turning 21 made me think about what the heck I did the last 20 years. It gave me a sense of what being an adult is all about. It's about taking responsibility. It's about taking ownership of your life.

Basically, 2005 is an all-rounder; I had my fair share of hiccups, girl issues which resulted in me having the most crushes of my life though I'm pretty thankful it ALL ended quickly. Interestingly, some of my feelings were even reciprocated albeit not in a serious fashion. But it's still not bad eh? (I never took ANY action by the way. What seemed like a good idea at first just didn't feel right.)

As I type all of this down; I've yet to watch Narnia, I wished I hadn't said no to the G3 DVD, wished I had girls waiting in line for me, wishing I could drive a Bugatti Veyron and bla bla bla yadda. But there's only one thing I wish would stay the same, and that would be that my friends will stick with me until the very last day of the world if that were to come.

I salute and acknowledge all the guys and gals of TP3F0503 especially my CMT mates. I would also like to give my warmest thanks to all my buddies and buddettes for being a friend to a self-absorbed, headbanging twirp in Dockers, downright weird fella that is me. Here's to more years to come!

Chris signing off...

PS: Hope to see all of you beautiful people some time in the future, those I've met and yet to included. Cheers!

Minor freedom tastes like shit.

It took me 3 and a half years to get here. It took me through a journey to Hell and back and back and back. Again. And each time I come back more cynical. More vitriolic. More handsome (Teehee). It took me on a ride on the rollercoaster of feelings that has left me craggy and sappy. And it's about to come to an end...

Flashback scene 1:
A(RM)PIIT is a college where nerds are born. Its most famous attraction is of course, its degree courses and the dreaded final year project with its equally infamous abbreviation, FYP. Of course many of us who have went through it will fondly remember it as Fail Your Project or my personal fave, Fuck Yer Project. It's an 8 month ride into Hell and back and back and back again. Wait, didn't I already say that?
End of Flashback scene 1.

It feels very funny. Extremely awkward even. After 8 months of toiling thru the purest of shit, it finally came to a rather lacklustre end. Not because I didn't jump up and down yelling "Fuck Yeah Fuckers! I'm FREEEEEEE!", it just ended with a simple sigh of relief. No fireworks filling the sky. No bottles of Cristal (I would prefer a green tea frap but um, let's not go there ya?) being popped. No white pigeons being released (though I suspect the poor birds were "hidden" before anyone could yell "Tamiflu!").

Flashback scene 2:
I decided to set up camp in 3rd floor's main discussion room. Which became dis-CUSS-ion room once my chums came. So for 10 hours, these 5 sentences were the most uttered:

1. Fuck la! (It IS a complete sentence)
2. Fuck la! I no yet finish la!
3. Fuck la! Gimme your documentation la! Dun worry la, I modify for sure wan la. (Most of the time that never happen)
4. Fuck la! How to put header and footer ah?
5. HAHAHAHAHAHA! My laptop save your degree wor!
End of Flashback scene 2.

Gosh I love Manglish.

Flashback scene 3:
Seeing one of my friends doing his work at 5 friggin' pm when the due date was at 7pm time was probably one of the best highlights. He was nonchalant. A perfect picture of Cool. He was like the WHOLE Fellowship in one taking on the entire hordes of Uruk Hai, goblins, Saruman, and various pretty males elves. And there I was thinking about dinner.
End of Flashback scene 3.

The road still has to be travelled a little bit more. The end of it draws nearer and nearer. But as it ends, a new road will beckon me. It might lead me to total disaster or it could be my ticket to a life of happiness and chicks (a man can dream y'know ;-) ). Whatever it is though, i'm gunning down the accelerator and not looking back.

Chris signing off...

PS: I wonder how does major freedom tastes like...

Confessions of an unwell boy

Never walk in the rain, no matter how cool you may think you look like, it's not worth having your joints aching like a mutha. And do not ever doubt the power of an umbrella and its protective reach against Mother Nature's wroth.

It's taken me twice as hard to come up with half decent sentences for the past few months. I used to think I could spew out line after line of prose that would make any English teacher smile, even if I was down with flu. I even used to get rather pissy when someone corrects my work, especially my style. Not anymore. Bubble of confidence now has been burst. Now I'm left wondering, how the heck could I have been so arrogant?

Seriously speaking, I strongly believe that my writings have been rather under par lately. And i'm not just talking about my blog entries too. My college work is ultimately suffering because of my inability to come up with believable bullshit, which I SO NEED RIGHT NOW. Maybe it's the pressure, the fact that I am known as the Documentation King, the Walking Dictionary (I swear my grammar is so much suckier now) that's been so drilled deep into my skull that I may have left out HUMILITY. And being sick made me realize how incapable I was. I was helpless. I couldn't turn to anyone besides myself.

I have been humbled. I'm more willing than ever in correcting whatever flaws because I want to become a better man. So if you see me making a mistake, don't feel shy and correct me will ya?

Chris signing off...

PS: This will be my last entry for the time being. Deadlines are very aptly named. Fret not, if I have the urge to blog i'll definitely come up with something. So thank you all (all meaning 5 loyal readers but i'm truly grateful all the same) for reading and do take care. Happy Deepavali and Selamat Hari Raya to all my friends who celebrate. Until then, have a nice lunch.

Sitting on the throne of thought...

Everyone does it. Some take little to no time at all, while others do it for such a long time you'd think they're planning some scheme to take over the world. Some call it 'Go To Do Business', 'Post Office', 'Pusat Melabur', and my three favourites of all time; 'I Go Bomb', 'Laying waste to (insert random country)' and of course, 'Taking a dump'. I do mine when I get up every morning. What am I talking about, you may wonder? That's the TOILET for all you conundrum hatin' people.

And now before any of you yell in repugnance, "Disgusting la you Chris!", this here entry isn't about how one goes about doing his/her lavatory escapades, it's whether or not you're a Thinker or a Reader. I fall naturally under the former mainly because when my stomach REALLY aches, the last thing I want to do is grab the newspaper. Without fail my mind will proceed to wander; sometimes I think about things that had happened the day before, recounting tales of how I managed to stuff myself silly eating mixed rice or how my hot lecturer pronounces words wrongly yet says them with such confidence it almost sounds right.

Sometimes I look forward to my sojourn to the lavatory, it'll give me that time to finally sit down (I can't really um, do it, standing up yes?) and think, think of things I wish I want, need, love and hate and all in between. Some of my most brilliant ideas pop out (literally too...) when I'm in there.

So the next time when you're out of ideas, go ahead, try sitting on the throne of thought. You'll be amazed by the things you'll come up with. And 'come out' with as well.

Chris signing off...

PS: Funnily enough, I didn't get the idea to write this while I was going about doing my 'business'.

I am man, hear me um, burp?

The newpaper today came out with this very interesting article on gender. It revolved around a group of people in the good old land of stars and stripes (that be America, duh) who, when they feel like it, 'change' gender like it was their underwear. Or panties.

It's their choice. They feel like a woman one day then a "grrl" he becomes and if he feels like being a man again, he becomes a "boi". Don't worry, I was confused at first. It is as one girl succintly says, "You are what you feel".

I also don't see the big deal when it comes to someone's gender and their sexual preference. If they're gay then they're gay. God created them that way and so be it. Who am I to say that I am better than them just because I like people of the opposite sex. I do feel uncomfortable when some gays express their joy upon seeing my slitty eyes. Friends say that I'm gay because of the fact I keep myself fit (which isn't much so no need to fantasize about me ladies, though thank you all the same for thinking so :P) and that fit men are mostly gay.

I know me. I know that I love being a guy. I'm a twit with wit. I don't EVER see myself as a twit with wit and tits.

Chris(tine) signing off...

PS: Thank God I feel like a man, all the time.

I’ll drink a six pack of apathy tonight. While wearing leotards.

Recently the papers highlighted the fashion sense of Malaysians and one particular person who was interviewed put me in a fit of chuckles with her comments:

“I like to watch Jap shows to check out the latest fashions”. She looks like a reject Goth girl o'right.

But here's the clincher: "I don’t like to copy others”.

WTF? That's totally contradictory. Here we have this girl who thinks she's one of a kind when in fact, she's copying what she sees from the idiot box and then aspires to look like those featured in the said shows.

It got me thinking about my own sense of dressing. My sis calls it conservative. I call it not giving a rat's behind. I'll wear what I want to wear. I've been wearing the same three quarter pants for the past 3 years. Granted i'm a bit of a prude when it comes to fashion. But the fact is, the changes in fashion has no grip on my style consciousness (or the lack of one). At one point in my youth, I wanted to look like Fred Durst with the baggy three-quarter pants, the baggy tee, and the wallet chain of mine that really could have been used to lock up a factory in Malacca.

As most of you know(I think only 5 regulars actually read my blog but oh well), i'm from a college that requires students to wear like a working person because of their belief that once you graduate, you will straight away be sucked into some IT department, coding the latest program and drinking 4 litres of coffee everyday. So you would think I would go wild when it comes to my "normal" clothes right? Nope. These days I wear like an Ah Pek; three-quarter pants, some raggy tee, sandals and a cap. These are the things I could live with the rest of my life. With a bottle of gel for those days where the cap needs a break.

Maybe i'll start wearing neon pants, have my collar upturned and have hair that could impale an elephant. Maybe..

But could you imagine me like that?

Chris signing off...

PS: I hate jeans. Slacks all the way!

Hypermarket Madness

Carrefour. Tesco. Giant. They're everyfrickin'where. What do these hypermarkets have in common besides funky names(Giant however sounds like a really cheap Kedai Runcit)? They're jam-packed with people from all walks of life wanting the best deal for a bar of soap. These places are also the best way to see how Malaysians are really like. The best way to describe a certain kind of hypermarketeer is simply to break them into groups as such:

Average (Joe,Jane,Mat,Siti,Muthu,Kumari,Lai Lai,Ah Fatt)
The most common of the lot. Anything and everything average applies to them; the time they take to decide which detergent they want, time it takes for them to pay, time for them to put the goods into the car... Well, you get the picture.

The Jostler
The most violent of the lot. They'll barrel their way thru the crowd like a mad bull whose behind has been poked with a hot poker. Before you can grab that last packet of Maggi Mee they'll push you aside, they'll chuck the loot into their trolley and continue on their war path. And they're the most likely to cut lines especially during peak period. Best avoided at all costs unless you want battle scars.

The Deranged Trolley Pusher
Trolleys are like cars. You have to steer them, manouver them properly around people. If it weren't for the din that it creates, the trolley in the hands of this nutter is a lethal weapon.

The Scrutinizer
This hypermarketeer doesn't actually directly annoy or irritate you in any form but sometimes you wonder, just take the damn toilet paper already!

The Bulbous Monstrosity
No matter how you try to manouver yourself, you still end up being flattened because you've been squeezed silly by this shopper just when you saw that tiny gap and you thought you could get pass.

I on other hand am a Take 'N' Go Pay hypermarketeer. I take what's needed and i pay the amount due and i'll get the hell out from the place.

So what hypermarketeer are you?

Chris signing off...

PS: Jaya Jusco's supermarket rocks cos of Siti Nurhaliza. She nice.

I like 7

I was actually in the midst of coming up with "Things That Will Make You Go Huh and Buh: The Secrets of Chris Revealed" but thanks be to Syar and Nadia who came up with this cool thingy and I thought, what the heck, let's do this instead.

Before I gloriously die, I plan to...

1. Settle down with the woman willing to spend her remaining days wishing she didn't have to, make some Chris Jrs and Little Miss Christines and own a really BIG and EXPENSIVE car.
2. Experience life as much as I can. Which includes me working in some foreign country and wishing I was eating nasi lemak instead of stinky French cheese that has blue markings to denote its profound stinkyness.
3. Travel as much as I can. No tour groups for me, I want to experience people's country and lives without an overweight tour guide with a scraggly beard and moustache telling me about the local cuisine.
4. At least see Dream Theater, Metallica (they may suck tremendous amounts of donkey ass now but without them I wouldn't be the metalhead I am today), Slayer or even Audioslave in concert.
5. Make an impact on society. I don't know how exactly I am going to accomplish this but I do hope I leave something for my children and their children to talk about.
6. Find and hold a job I truly enjoy. "Because I don't want to wake up one morning with the sudden urge to blow my brains out." (Completely borrowed from Nadia since it's so good I couldn't change it)
7. Meet the people on my list who I haven't already done so. Don't worry, I don't bite.

I can...

1. Curse, drive, drink, look out for cute girls, adjust hair: ALL at the same time.
2. Burp on command.
3. Headbang, read/study/write and air guitar/drum: ALL at the same time.
4. Admit it when I'm in the wrong.
5. Go on and on and on and on and making people's lives more unpleasent by coming up with cryptic analogies and sentences that should be called paragraphs.
6. Devour a Whopper in under 1 minute. That's like downing 2 Big Macs. My stomach then rebels thus sets me in the privy for the next half hour or so as revenge.
7. Make people laugh with my wit, my lack of self-efficacy, and my sometimes cute face that resembles a Pillsbury dough boy.

I can't...

1. Shut up before it's too late.
2. Write simple and staightforward. I will beat about the goddamn bush 'till there's not a single leaf left.
3. Drive at night properly. And if it's raining, get ready to tell me the traffic condition. It may get a bit rough.
4. Look people in the eye. I'm afraid I might get crossed eyed.
5. Dance to save myself.
6. Watch horror movies and not laugh and be scared out of my wits at the same time.
7. Let incompetence lead me on in anything that I do, or worse, people who can't admit it when they're wrong. Especially men, to me if they don't then their a bunch of pansies.

Say most...

1. Rubbish
2. Bugger
3. Macha!
4. Dude!
5. Cool
6. What the heck/hell
7. Shit

Attract me to someone...

1. Being completely herself, for I do not want a girl who at first seems all genuine and is my kind of girl, only to turn out she's ditzy, self-centred and worse, is a fan of Britney Spears.
2. Likes music for what it is and knows the difference between real rock and pure garbage.
3. Looks. Anyone who says looks are not important is either blind or is just trying to sound sensitive. While I know I may never be able to date a model, but I do hope to meet a girl with beautiful, souflul eyes, lips that demand to be serviced, and hair that whence is flipped is able to whoop me across the floor.
4. A girl who knows what she wants.
5. Knows that I will always be there with her and vice versa. But, um, she may have to fork out petrol money. Expensive wor.
6. Is able to stand my quirks and thoughts about many things in life. I'll forgive her for calling Good Charlotte "Good rock" if she accepts my love for metal. And Norah Jones. Ooooo.
7. Is able to take my jokes and turn it around and making it funnier.

Celebrity crushes (This list is in order. You'll know why.)...

1. Kristin Kreuk - THANK YOU GOD. She's so beautiful, that everytime I have notty thoughts about her I immediately hit my head for such a creature of pulchritudinous shouldn't be treated like a mere vessel of pleasure. And those green eyes of hers just melts my soul.
2. Jessica Alba - From the first time I saw Dark Angel I was mesmerized. Not only does she exudes sexuality like an oozing chocolava pit, she manages to tickle my happy spots everytime I see her. And those lips, oh my.
3. Hannah Tan - Malaysia Boleh! As cliché and rather lame as it is, she goes to show that Malaysian chicks are a million miles better than Singaporean chicks. She's got one heck of a brainy mind (she can prolly teach me more about IT than my college ever can) and is an all round mighty fine package.
4. Angelina Jolie - Lips of wonder. Body of amazement. Eyes of steely determination and unquenchable sexual drive, and who could blame El Pitt for dumping that Aniston woman. She can raid my tomb anytime.
5. Rachel Weisz - Her American accent goes off tangent sometimes but that smile of hers makes me want to smack Keanu Reeves for getting to see her in a more intimate fashion.
6. Scarlett Johansson - She proves that curves and having a beautiful complexion is so much more appealing than looking like an anorexic milkmaid. And that husky voice is like butter on hot potato buns.
7. Evangeline Lilly - Beautiful. Just beautiful. When she cries, I feel like crying too. When she laughs, i'm over the clouds. She's one of those rare actors who can pull off emotions with such conviction. I'd so love to be Lost with her.

Honourable mentions go to Marg Helgenberger (CSI), Camelia (i've always liked her, *blushes*), Aishwarya Rai (bite me), Fergie from Black Eyed Peas who's possibly the sexiest and scariest woman alive.

So there you have it, things you may have known or suspected, all for your reading pleasure. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Chris signing off...

PS: Who would've thought I'd need almost 5 days to complete this...

Of pretty faces and meaty bodies...

Boys at the ages of 6 to 12 normally detest girls. Then suddenly, one (explicit and lurid) dream changes it all. And the fact that the bedsheet too needed a change marked the transition of detesting to desiring. I should know, I was one.

A good friend of mine who shall be known as FengTau recently told me that during the holidays that he didn't do anything remotely work related. No coding. No documentating his work. No research into his subject. And i went, "Hahaha. Same here dude." But what he told me next made me splutter my laughter fluid all over his car. it was "HAHAHAHA!". Notice the Caps Lock-ed laugh and the exclamation mark? it was THAT funny. The reason:

Me: I went down south to our neighbour and ate so much 'til I couldn't fit into my cargo pants and I ended up walking with a really uncomfortable feeling in my crotch area whilst looking at animals who were either sleeping or displaying their behinds. At me nonetheless.

FengTau: Guess what man(at this point he was smiling wider than a hippo's behind). Me now a playa. A mutha focker. A daddy with sugar. Bling bling chicky at me side. *and cue the very serious face* I got to kiss. Girls. Ah ha.

Me: Holy hell...

One month and a half of holidays and most of the time he spent it at clubs, gets to know a couple of girls(naive no doubt) and when one just happened to say that "I like you. Wor." He's now a bonafide lothario. This is coming from a guy who was more interested in just undressing girls mentally. But now is with no clothes on them preferably. What surprised me more was that he's actually going to go after yet another girl. And get this, the reason is because "She's quite pretty". I waited for a more in depth answer but i knew it wouldn't come.

It all boils down to the fact no matter how much we progress toward a more egalitarian environment, there will be some men who will always want the bimbo type, the pseudo peroxide chick with a super pushup bra, the stick thin and wafer-like bodied girls. One thing that irks me to no end is when they don't know how to differentiate between slightly meaty girls(read: girls who are nice to cuddle with because there's something to hang on to) and girls who simply just have too much meat. They'd call the poor slightly meaty girls straightaway as FAT simply because any girl with a slight tummy(and i mean even the slightest hint of a tummy too) is deemed as overweight.

As for me, I prefer my girls to have some meat. I find that it is more appealing to show off curves as opposed to the exact bone structure of a stick girl. Of course, even if the most perfectly proportioned and beautiful woman were to be attracted to me(a guy can always dream of such dreams...) but has the personality of a serpent waiting to devour its prey i'll stay away from her as far possible.

I believe having a partner is something that is to be cherished and not treated like a Sunday cone. You can call me old fashion, I don't care. At least I know my principles, beliefs and most importantly, my soul, aren't soiled with sinful acts.

Chris signing off...

PS: Stick girls do not be offended. Here, have a carrot.

Merdeka! Merdeka! Yam Cha*!

Raise your hand for those of you who TRULY embraces the spirit of our country's Independence Day? No-one? Add me to the list of no show of hands. Honestly, I've never been to a Merdeka celebration. Nor do I think I would participate in anytime soon. To me, it's just an excuse for many to go out, wave the flag lackadaisically and then down a pint or so of beer. That's how many view it, just another public holiday to blow away the hard earned money on booze and ciggies. Ask them where's their Merdeka spirit and they'd probably puke their dinner on you cos they're too drunk to say, "Huh? Merdeka ah?".

And who're these people? I'm referring to the people of today. The people of today who will one day take over this country. And who will lead the next generation into the future. I'm talking about me and YOU. Yes, YOU dearie. I may not be the best person to talk about patriotism but I will be the first to tell you that no matter what, always respect and love your country. I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't want to go to another country and work. If the opportunity came, I'd take it in a heart beat. But in the end, home is where the heart truly is. It is where I was born and made. It made me the man I am today. The good and the bad that happened serves not only as lessons learned but also the most cherished thing one could ever possess, and that is experiences of life. Besides their virginity as well.

I must say that i'm proud to call myself a Malaysian. I love to tell people from other countries about Malaysia's character, idiosyncrasies, culture, cuisine and of course, the people. Whenever something happens, I'd say "That's a Malaysian thing" or "It's Malaysian la".

I shall end here with a simple wish, let's strive to better ourselves and not succumb to trivialities.

Chris signing off...

*Yam cha is Chinese for "drink tea" which is commonly used when one is going out for an outing. Usually alcohol is accompanied. Being inebriated is optional.

PS: Happy Merdeka everyone. Yes, i know i'm a day late.

Music to my ears

Even metalheads need a change of pace once in while y'know.

Recently i went to the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra for a free preview of their upcoming season. Since it was free, my family and I sat ourselves in the hall awaiting the start. As the light started to dim, i found myself actually not knowing what's really going to happen. I've never seen a real orchestra perform. But when the conductor started to wave his wand-ish thingamajig and the orchestra finally unleash their instruments, i was enthralled. The orchestra played note perfect renditions of John Williams's body of work which sufficed to say is incredible in its grandeur and evocation of the senses. I had a tremendously enjoyable time.

There were some things that bothered me. First is the freeloaders, or more appropriately, shameless charlatans who just because it said FREE doesn't mean it's something that your mind can comprehend let alone appreciate. Real fans stood in line for hours and yet all these village people got seats because they were there slightly earlier. Secondly and it's something that i have an ambivalence to, a sort of love/hate relationship with: Children. Specifically, 8 years and below. I've always liked kids, well babies to be exact, apart from the crying and the occasional poo moment, babies are okai. I just can't stand naughty, bratty, uncontrollable monsters who pester, moan, whine, scream, yell, lie down to the floor because they didn't get their chocalate bar. They're angels when they want something but become their true demonic self when they don't get their way. If you know your kid's the type that can't keep still for half a second then DON'T bring them. As i was immersing myself in the music, i closed my eyes to savour the sweet music. I let the music flow into me so to speak. Since they played stuff that i actually know and like such as Hedwig's Theme from Harry Potter and Duel of the Fates from the Phantom Pen..Menace, it made the experience even more enjoyable. Then a kid starts yelling and a baby goes "Agoo agoo agoo bla wahhh!" and it totally disrupts my concentration. My mental state shifted to PSYCHOTIC for a few moments.

I'm not saying these village people aren't allowed in there or they can't even listen to this kind of music but for crying out loud, just because it's free doesn't mean it'll mean something to you. It's like queueing up for some free thing only to find out it's free tampon samples. This is sadly the mentality of many Malaysians. This kiasuness is apparent mostly in the village community simply because they display it on their sleeves, pockets, collars and tassels. They don't hide it. Snooty rich people are also capable of displaying such behaviour albeit in a subtle but still as shameful way. They're conniving and greedy and they'll do anything to get their way. You would think that with bucketloads of money, people would be more polite or just? It seems that they're only worth what their handbag contains. Free is free yes but taking it for granted merely causes one to lose the meaning of what is good and what is easy.

FREE is truly the most universal word in the world. Use it freely.

Chris signing off...

PS: To the chick with the unbelievable body and cleavage who ran up the hall: Thank You so, so, so much.

Home is where the heart is...

Greetings everyone! Yes i know, many of you have missed my witty and insightful posts. Fret not, i wasn't abducted by aliens wanting to stick probes up my lovely proverbial behind nor was i taken hostage by Amazonian women who want to make me as their um, head of reproduction center, but rather i was down south in Singapore! Ah ha, the land of the kiasu, the land where the women are snobbier than poodles, the land where the guys don't seem to wear caps and the land where it has made me miss Malaysia. A fucking lot. While i do love being able to cross roads in an orderly fashion as opposed to mad dashes, where service with a smile is actually happens(though the old ladies here tend to subscribe to the mantra of Service With a Dour Face from Hell), where at night i don't feel as though i'm being stalked by a deranged drug addict, but the thing is, there's really no place like home.

Just think about this, the area that i am staying at has no mamak stall where you can just go to and plonk your arse down, no Internet cafes hosting Counterstrike sessions(or the highly awful DOTA), no stalls selling kuehs and such, no Chinese DVD peddlers. The only thing that my area has that is of intellectual interest happens to be an adult shop. Hehehe. Apparently, this is pretty much the same situation as the other places. It's just shopping mall after shopping mall with Old Chang Kees and 7 Elevens. And McDonald's and Burger King. And girls. Pretty ones. How do i know? Try taking a walk around Orchard Road. For 6 hours. I don't mean to talk big but i went round Orchard Road for 6 hours straight and in the rain. And guess what i found out? Everything's the same. I got bored in no time. It's a shopping paradise yes, especially for you of the female kind, but too much shopping is just ridiculous. Not too mention also very hurting the wallet. Luckily the eye candy provided me with some drive to continue.

While some of the girls there are really pretty, i can't help but think that our girls are still better. The girls here think every guy is checking them out thus start to then put on the most annoying pout of arrogance i've ever seen. Sure the tight tops, the short skirts, the rather lovely derrieres on some of the females there did leave a lasting impression in my mind. I just wasn't convinced that they're doing it because they feel like doing so. The girls here do it with conviction whereas the Singaporeans do it because it's a fashion.

To me, the food was a sight; chocolates of all shapes, sizes and flavour were on display, gelato stations serving some of the best looking non-fat ice cream known to man... the list goes on. The food courts are every friggin' where. All their shopping malls have at least one corner where all the restaurants are located. But the taste of it all felt bland. The Western type of food however was simply sumptuous. A real feast for the eyes as well as for the palette. But I still craved for nasi lemak with rendang, roti canai telur with dhal curry and noodles with dumplings that taste so good.

And as i am writing this, the haze is getting thicker, water is running low in some states, rain has not fallen for quite a whie in my area, the prices of certain goods are increasing, traffic jams have reduced people to maniacs... and yet all these and more make me love my country even more. I may bitch about it every day but i'm proud to call myself a Malaysian. And i'm sure many of you too share the same sentiment.

Chris signing off...

PS: Any Singaporean chicks out there who're reading this, PLEASE do not feel offended. I still think you all are really hot. You're just dumber than i thought.

Patience everyone!!!

Ah, if any of you are wondering, i am in Singapore on holiday. :)

Yes, i'm having a blast here. Some of the reasons why so:

Chicks
Metal
Food

Ahhhh, life is good. Anyways, i'll give an update once i'm back which will feature my superb observations here in the land of kiasu. Until then..

Chris signing off....

PS: I'm broke. :(

Clone MEEEEEEEEEEE!

Ah, the island... A place of peace and serenity. A place where you can frolic in the meadows of gold while breathing in the pure air.
EKK! WRONG! It's actually a place where you get your spleen ripped apart from your body all because you're a clone, 'product', and belong to your original self who has paid 5 million smackers to live a little bit longer in the world.

So on to the review breakdown yes:

The Good - The Actors

Ewan McGregor - He gave Lincoln 6 Echo a rather boyish take. Which is kind of true since the clones are educated to the level of a 15 year old. As the Tom Lincoln(the dude who paid loads of dough to live longer), his Scottish accent wasn't really that thick. He did say "wankah". Nice.

Scarlett Johansson - Oh.My.Lord.The.Lips.So.Plump.So.Yummy.Body.So.Fantastic.
*Drooling*.
Acting.Ok.La.Lips.Oh.My.*Faints*.

The rest - Ok la. Sean Bean was like Boromir in a suit; the same conviction in what he is doing is right and will do anything to achieve glory. Djimon Hounsou was all right. Steve Buscemi was great and had the best lines.

The Bad - Where do I begin? Honestly speaking, The Island had sooooo much promise; a storyline that's thought provoking but terribly executed. It's like having a DVD player but you're still watching VCDs on it. So much potential what with having some really good actors in it but was bogged down by shoddy dialogue, nonsensical action sequences(i did laugh out loud at one scene where a guy was walking in the office ala lalala then suddenly gets whacked from the back by Ewan McGregor on a hover bike) and Michael Bay's penchant for too clean looking picture quality. It's great really but sometimes too clean makes it feel synthetic.

The Ugly - My sitting position was downright ridiculous. I couldn't see much of Scarlett. :(

Cloning as a business where money will buy you more time on this shitty Earth. The notion where you can create a clone, then have 'it' be removed of its, say eyebrows, is quite sick. It goes to show how rich people will do anything to remain as they are; vain and severly deprived of morality.

Do clones have souls? They feel, they hunger, they thirst, they want, they are alive. But a soul do they possess? Only God knows...

As for me, no thanks. I for one do not want to be cloned. Ever. Imagine two of me. 'Nuff said.

Chris signing off...

PS: Even clones get to have sex after only knowing about it for a couple of hours. The injustice.

Of Kimonos and Slitty Eyes...

Last Saturday was wicked, went down to the nearby Jaya Jusco at 7am to collect the latest Harry Potter book and i must say, this has to be the most shocking book of the series. Just when you thought you had it all figured out, BAM! J.K. Rowling smashes all your detective work into pulp of uselessness and then you clutch your head and say to yourself,"Damn".

That day also marked my first ever excursion to Bon Odori, a Japanese festival celebrating something i still do not know. Even the Japs there didn't know too. I first caught wind of its existence from a friend of mine way back when i was doing my diploma. He was known as Happy Chai and was a complete dimwit. And a nutter for anything Japanese. He asked me one day:

Happy Chai: Hey Clis, wanna go to Pon O Dolly?
I thought it was an invitation for a play of an obscene take on Hello Dolly.
Me: Huh?
A Friend: It's Bon Odori you dork.
Happy Chai: I said Pon O Dolly mah. Anyway, it is a Japaneese festiwal. Sure lot of chick wan. Come la.
Me: No thanks man. I've got errands to do. Err, you have fun. La.
Happy Chai: *crestfallen look* Okei.

Fast forward to last Saturday and voila! I'm driving on the Federal Highway heading towards Shah Alam. Went me and my family finally got into the stadium, i braced myself, for i was about to enter the realm of J-Pop, girls in tight uniforms and even tighter skirts, girls with pigtails the length of a pillar, boys trying to look cool with ludicrously spiky hair while possessing squeaky voices and for the penultimate, Raw Food. As i was making my way round the food stalls, i kept an eye out for any of my friends and of the many girls there. Of the former, i only saw one while the latter, well, my eyes were very much satisfied. My hunger however got angry. Not because i didn't do anything to quell but rather, the food sucked. Big time. Maybe it was because of the hands of unskilled Malaysians who were handling the makings of the food. Even the tea with 16 different types of tea leaves that cost me 5 bucks tasted like water with a pinch of salt. I dropped my RM5 omelette(managed to grab a small bite though) onto the grass and i threw away the rest of my RM5 noodles cos it sucked bad.

The atmosphere at the stadium end of the festival was bursting with life. All around me girls were giggling. I was ogling. The stage(which was in the middle of field) in which the performers will perform on was being set up and Japanese opera wailed from out the speakers like a banshee demanding for better sushi. After a while, a most un-Japanese thing happened; Avril Lavigne was now being blasted. WTF came to me faster than you can say "Kumbawa!".

By the time the official launch came most of the people had already congregated near the stadium to witness the performances. Then when the announcers said to take part in the dances, the people really took it to heart cos when the first move was performed, the crowd started to follow. Many of them laughed at themselves and their friends for executing the wrong moves. I laughed at them instead. The crowd got really worked when the second dance came on, it was more vibrant and fun. I thought surely a moshpit was gonna erupt soon. I got smelly armpits instead.

We left the place at around 8pm as we didn't want to get caught in the massive jam that was bound to occur later. As we were leaving, a group of old timers who called themselves The Hokkaido Soba Lovers Club serenaded the crowd with a special rendition of Rasa Sayang. It was more like Rasa Malang.

Beside the food being absolutely worthless, the whole festival was good. I personally didn't learn much other than i shouldn't eat RM5 omelettes while standing up. With chopsticks nonetheless.

I can't wait for next year.

Chris signing off...

PS: Jessica Alba >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> All the chicks at Bon Odori put together.

Week of Hell

Wow, it's been a long time since i've updated, sorry y'all. Got caught up with work last week and then my lappie containing ALL my precious files went byebye and i spent the whole of Thursday going back and forth between my lappie and desktop, transfering file after file which funnily went cuckoo too the week before.

It seems that the only time my utterly insipid coll... *ahem*, excuse me, university college, is teeming with life and sheer tension is during any project submission be it group based or individual. The blood, the sweat, the tears all literally flowed on 11 July for it was the due date for submitting quite possibly the most FUCKED UP project ever in my 3 years at APIIT. Or is it UCTI?

I know better than to do things last minute, especially when it involves a project that is divided into two parts: Research in the first sem and for the second sem, Coding. The Research part, i'm okay. I don't mind poring thru research paper after research paper and then dissecting the appropriate information for my documentation. What i don't fucking like is creating diagrams detailing how a user is going to log into my system AND then justifying why i did so. I already did the damn diagrams so just fucking accept it for crying out loud! It's like telling someone that i crossed the road safely, yet he/she doesn't believe me because i didn't inform them to look at me when i was crossing. And i especially hate being told that the way i created thediagram is actually wrong. On the day of submission nonetheless. They got it good, they're the ones who actually had a whole friggin' sem on how to create those diagrams. I had 3 days. 3 sleepless nights. 3 goddamn, terribly exhausting and mentally draining days. The worse for now has come to pass and now i'm awaiting Armageddon of Projects.

So in the end, i managed to pass up my project at 7.15pm. Luckily the pretty lady put me and my friends as passed up at 7. I had to use whatever that was left of my consciousness and my non-existant charm to put us at 7. I now owe her a bottle of Ribena as thanks. Shucks.

For those of you know what coding is like, then you'll excuse me when i say this, I FUCKING HATE IT. Never did like it and i never will. I guess i just don't have the brain for it. I'm more of a 'What and Why' guy when it comes to projects. I come up with the project's soul; the title, objectives, scope and anything related to the core of it. I'm not however a guy who can create web pages using Dreamweaver or even *gasp* Frontpage. It's not hard i know but i'm just not interested. So when i dubbed this project as the Most Fucked Up Ever, i really mean it. I will suffer tremendously in the upcoming months trying to bust my ass and sanity in creating the website. And not to mention my Final Year Project which is turning out to be the Mutha of Fucked Up projects. If i don't even get it to work say in the 2 months, i'll be Fucked Guy numero uno.

Wish me luck, please?

Chris signing off...

PS: I make no apologies for using quite a lot of the F-word(which is the best English word EVER). Believe me, if i were to tell you this verbally, you'd have a cringed look on your face. Permanently.

Thanks Giving

I'm a fairly polite guy. Really. I'll say thank you to the same waiter who's been serving me for every service they perform, from bringing my meal to taking away the empty plate when i'm done devouring the rather delicious lasagna. Regardless whether or not the said waiter had been a complete turd or a darling, i'll say the thank yous. I credit my thanks giving nature to my family who'll smack me silly if i don't do so.

I know there are some of you who're like me(Hie there fellow nice person) and there are those who are completely oblivious to the power of it. Sure, you don't have to mean it ALL THE TIME, but just saying it sometimes can turn an unpleasant encounter with the durian seller from turning into a thorny affair. Pun quite the intended.

It just so happens that I am surrounded by these people. I blame their backgrounds and upbringing because if they'd had been brought the way i did, then i wouldn't have a topic to blog about. Or bitch. A good friend whom i shall refer to as Dark Stick, said rather succinctly, "Friends don't need to say thanks to friends". Ya meh? Shouldn't we as friends be the ones dishing out the thanks to each other like nobody's business?

Friends call me "hak hei", something like being too thankful and gracious. I got me a friggin' label for being too gracious? Bloody china-people.

It's like not saying "Please" too. YOu want to borrow something from me the least you can do is say please instead of "Gimme now la" or the evergreen classic that is "Bollow me yor stuffs". Fucken china-people.

I tried being like them, just to see what's it like being impolite. I became the non thank you and please saying dude for awhile. I actually itched every time i didn't say either one. "Bah, screw them la", i told myself that. I'd rather be known as the guy who says thanks to everything than be the guy who's a complete asshole.

Politeness isn't part of the package that comes when you're born, it is something you learn.

Chris signing off...

You know English ah?

I am a Banana. No, not the sexual connotation version of it and certainly not from the appalling song by Gwen Stefani but rather, i'm a Chinese dude who can't speak the language. I know most of the foul words(thanks guys!) and i know enough to order char kuey teow and not wanting the icky cockles. More than that, i can grasp words here and there. I was brought up by Yankee and British tv. I read Enid Blyton with a passion. I even developed an American accent from watching Sesame Street and comedies so much so that people thought i was actually from America.

Since i grew up at a place where people who don't know the area at all and who tend to think that its somewhere in between there and nowhere, my command of the national language far surpassed that of my mother tongue. Heck, the biggest praise i got was from the "apam balik" couple who said i sounded exactly like a Malay. With very slitty eyes.

Back in the days of my innocence, i was afraid to go to any Chinese restaurants for fear of being chased out because i certainly would've mispronounced crab (for those who don't know, crab in Chinese is very similar to a certain part of the female anatomy. And it ain't the armpits). There were some nice people who talked to me in either Malay or English but there were also those who gave me dirty looks because of my inability to converse with them in Chinese. When i say, "Can i have the breast part?", they'll pull a blank face ala zombie nation but when i Chinafy the sentence, "Gimme da blest plat ya.Duwan da buntut", voila!

When i was younger, i used to feel stupid for not being able to understand the language. I've even blamed my parents right in front of them. But as i got older, i told myself, "So What?". I'm certainly not the only one who can't speak Chinese. So now, i no more dread going to chinese shops and restaurants. I'll try my best to order but if i can't then i'll switch to English and if worse transcends to worst, Malay. I'll even do sign language. Not even the language barrier is going to stop me from ordering chicken rice.

I remember a time when i used to like this Chinese girl. She was nice, pretty, sweet and i suspect that she liked me too. However, i realised that not only will the language hinder communication greatly but also the way of thinking is just not compatible. She likes Jay Chou. I like Judas Priest. I want to watch Hotel Rwanda(great movie by the way), she wants to watch God of Cookery 3. I'd rather headbang my head off for her than serenade her the latest ballad. I'm not saying that i won't ever get together with a Chinese educated girl but the fact of the matter is that without even the basics, how the hell am i going to tell her that i love her?

I'm not going to blame my parents any more especially my dad, who is the main culprit actually, for not teaching me and my sisters Chinese as we were growing up. It's not too late for me to pick up the language anyway. In fact, i've noticed that there are more and more bananas now. And most of them are girls. Pretty ones too. Thank You, God.

Guess what guys? It's back which means that I'M BACK.

Hello and welcome back to the world of Whacker Inc. Or just plain me, Chris. It's been like ages since i've updated this blog of mine but the truth is simply that i got bored of the whole blogging thing. I got bored updating. I got bored trying to come up with posts that have meaning and a message to present as opposed to my previous posts where they were just absolute crap.

I however got back into the blogging fiasco via Friendster's blog service which at first was enjoyable, got pretty frustrating in the end. It's slow, unreliable and plain sucky. So i hope you guys come back often and check my blog since i assure you all, i'll be updating it pretty often from now on. Topics will range from my rather eccentric life to views and thoughts i feel strongly about.

Until then, take care and thanks for reading. Chris, signing off...