Father

Dad. The man. The other half that took to produce me. A little late in posting this but better late than never I reckon.

People who know me, know that I complain a little too much about him. He's Anti-Dad. The only person who has always put me down and egged me to be better through his caustic remarks and acerbic sarcasm.

Me: Dad I passed my exams!
Dad: Yeah but you didn't score A's did you? Idiot!

Me: Dad I found a job.
Dad: Yeah but you aren't a manager are you? I was a manager at your age!

Me: Dad I made manager!
Dad: Yeah but a real man owns his own business.

Me: Dad I am my own boss in a consulting company.
Dad: Yeah but you have no house, no car and no woman.

Me: Dad I have a good job, am renting a place, a woman and can afford a car but prefer to take a cab everywhere I go because I can afford it.
Dad: Yeah and it's all because I pushed you. That's why you can afford all of that now innit?

Yes he is a hard drinking, cuss delivering dad. Completely unbearable first thing in the morning, drives like a manic and is overtly aggressive.

He also had never missed a day at work, a car and house payment. He put food on the table even when I know he skipped some so we do not have to. He put a roof over my head, bought me whatever I wanted, indulged my whims and excesses. He stopped playing golf and drinking just to make sure I had a good life in Melbourne. He also came down hard on anyone who dared to bully, harass or in any way cause me discomfort. He paid for all my sins and mistakes without complaint or comment. He worked long hours so that we never have to.

That, my gentle readers, makes a great dad. Not everyone is perfect but he comes pretty close. I know he will never read this (technophobic and utterly computer illiterate) but know that I love you not because I have to, but because i just do.

Happy Father's Day.

For The Dude Above

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.'

And he replied,
'Go into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way!'

So I went forth and finding the Hand of God
Trod gladly into the night
He led me towards the hills
And the breaking of day in the lone east.

So heart be still!
What need our human life to know
If God hath comprehension?

In all the dizzy strife of things
Both high and low,
God hideth his intention.

The Last Man

The power of the Three.

There are 3 pillars which should support our existence,

Wisdom, to contrive, is infinite derived from Divine Will

Strength, to support, is omnipotent derived from Divine Love

Beauty, to adorn the inward, shines in symmerty derived from Divine Thought

Ave Maria

Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tuae, Jesus.
Ave Maria

Ave Maria
Mater Dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Nunc et in hora mortis
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Et in hora mortis nostrae
Ave Maria

Always remember......

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I am an African

Thabo Mbeki has resigned as the President of South Africa. A man that many have called 'gracious', 'magnificent' and a 'true gentleman' stepped down gracefully and elegantly to allow for someone else to take up the reins with no argument, curses or civil war. For all his small faults, as all humans born will have, he was the epitome of a statesman, orator, gentleman and, most important of all, a great human damn near the dizzying heights of his predecessor, Nelson Mandela.

The following is his speech from two years back effectively sums up what it means to be an African and if it is anything to go by, I am an African too.

Chairperson,
Esteemed President of the democratic Republic,
Honourable Members of the Constitutional Assembly,
Our distinguished domestic and foreign guests,
Friends,

On an occasion such as this, we should, perhaps, start from the beginning.

So, let me begin.

I am an African.

I owe my being to the hills and the valleys, the mountains and the glades, the rivers, the deserts, the trees, the flowers, the seas and the ever-changing seasons that define the face of our native land.

My body has frozen in our frosts and in our latter day snows. It has thawed in the warmth of our sunshine and melted in the heat of the midday sun. The crack and the rumble of the summer thunders, lashed by startling lightening, have been a cause both of trembling and of hope.

The fragrances of nature have been as pleasant to us as the sight of the wild blooms of the citizens of the veld.

The dramatic shapes of the Drakensberg, the soil-coloured waters of the Lekoa, iGqili noThukela, and the sands of the Kgalagadi, have all been panels of the set on the natural stage on which we act out the foolish deeds of the theatre of our day.

At times, and in fear, I have wondered whether I should concede equal citizenship of our country to the leopard and the lion, the elephant and the springbok, the hyena, the black mamba and the pestilential mosquito.

A human presence among all these, a feature on the face of our native land thus defined, I know that none dare challenge me when I say - I am an African!

I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape - they who fell victim to the most merciless genocide our native land has ever seen, they who were the first to lose their lives in the struggle to defend our freedom and dependence and they who, as a people, perished in the result.

Today, as a country, we keep an audible silence about these ancestors of the generations that live, fearful to admit the horror of a former deed, seeking to obliterate from our memories a cruel occurrence which, in its remembering, should teach us not and never to be inhuman again.

I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me.

In my veins courses the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. Their proud dignity informs my bearing, their culture a part of my essence. The stripes they bore on their bodies from the lash of the slave master are a reminder embossed on my consciousness of what should not be done.

I am the grandchild of the warrior men and women that Hintsa and Sekhukhune led, the patriots that Cetshwayo and Mphephu took to battle, the soldiers Moshoeshoe and Ngungunyane taught never to dishonour the cause of freedom.

My mind and my knowledge of myself is formed by the victories that are the jewels in our African crown, the victories we earned from Isandhlwana to Khartoum, as Ethiopians and as the Ashanti of Ghana, as the Berbers of the desert.

I am the grandchild who lays fresh flowers on the Boer graves at St Helena and the Bahamas, who sees in the mind's eye and suffers the suffering of a simple peasant folk, death, concentration camps, destroyed homesteads, a dream in ruins.

I am the child of Nongqause. I am he who made it possible to trade in the world markets in diamonds, in gold, in the same food for which my stomach yearns.

I come of those who were transported from India and China, whose being resided in the fact, solely, that they were able to provide physical labour, who taught me that we could both be at home and be foreign, who taught me that human existence itself demanded that freedom was a necessary condition for that human existence.

Being part of all these people, and in the knowledge that none dare contest that assertion, I shall claim that - I am an African.

I have seen our country torn asunder as these, all of whom are my people, engaged one another in a titanic battle, the one redress a wrong that had been caused by one to another and the other, to defend the indefensible.

I have seen what happens when one person has superiority of force over another, when the stronger appropriate to themselves the prerogative even to annul the injunction that God created all men and women in His image.

I know what if signifies when race and colour are used to determine who is human and who, sub-human.

I have seen the destruction of all sense of self-esteem, the consequent striving to be what one is not, simply to acquire some of the benefits which those who had improved themselves as masters had ensured that they enjoy.

I have experience of the situation in which race and colour is used to enrich some and impoverish the rest.

I have seen the corruption of minds and souls in the pursuit of an ignoble effort to perpetrate a veritable crime against humanity.

I have seen concrete expression of the denial of the dignity of a human being emanating from the conscious, systemic and systematic oppressive and repressive activities of other human beings.

There the victims parade with no mask to hide the brutish reality - the beggars, the prostitutes, the street children, those who seek solace in substance abuse, those who have to steal to assuage hunger, those who have to lose their sanity because to be sane is to invite pain.

Perhaps the worst among these, who are my people, are those who have learnt to kill for a wage. To these the extent of death is directly proportional to their personal welfare.

And so, like pawns in the service of demented souls, they kill in furtherance of the political violence in KwaZulu-Natal. They murder the innocent in the taxi wars.

They kill slowly or quickly in order to make profits from the illegal trade in narcotics. They are available for hire when husband wants to murder wife and wife, husband.

Among us prowl the products of our immoral and amoral past - killers who have no sense of the worth of human life, rapists who have absolute disdain for the women of our country, animals who would seek to benefit from the vulnerability of the children, the disabled and the old, the rapacious who brook no obstacle in their quest for self-enrichment.

All this I know and know to be true because I am an African!

Because of that, I am also able to state this fundamental truth that I am born of a people who are heroes and heroines.

I am born of a people who would not tolerate oppression.

I am of a nation that would not allow that fear of death, torture, imprisonment, exile or persecution should result in the perpetuation of injustice.

The great masses who are our mother and father will not permit that the behaviour of the few results in the description of our country and people as barbaric.

Patient because history is on their side, these masses do not despair because today the weather is bad. Nor do they turn triumphalist when, tomorrow, the sun shines.

Whatever the circumstances they have lived through and because of that experience, they are determined to define for themselves who they are and who they should be.

We are assembled here today to mark their victory in acquiring and exercising their right to formulate their own definition of what it means to be African.

The constitution whose adoption we celebrate constitutes and unequivocal statement that we refuse to accept that our Africanness shall be defined by our race, colour, gender of historical origins.

It is a firm assertion made by ourselves that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white.

It gives concrete expression to the sentiment we share as Africans, and will defend to the death, that the people shall govern.

It recognises the fact that the dignity of the individual is both an objective which society must pursue, and is a goal which cannot be separated from the material well-being of that individual.

It seeks to create the situation in which all our people shall be free from fear, including the fear of the oppression of one national group by another, the fear of the disempowerment of one social echelon by another, the fear of the use of state power to deny anybody their fundamental human rights and the fear of tyranny.

It aims to open the doors so that those who were disadvantaged can assume their place in society as equals with their fellow human beings without regard to colour, race, gender, age or geographic dispersal.

It provides the opportunity to enable each one and all to state their views, promote them, strive for their implementation in the process of governance without fear that a contrary view will be met with repression.

It creates a law-governed society which shall be inimical to arbitrary rule.

It enables the resolution of conflicts by peaceful means rather than resort to force.

It rejoices in the diversity of our people and creates the space for all of us voluntarily to define ourselves as one people.

As an African, this is an achievement of which I am proud, proud without reservation and proud without any feeling of conceit.

Our sense of elevation at this moment also derives from the fact that this magnificent product is the unique creation of African hands and African minds.

Bit it is also constitutes a tribute to our loss of vanity that we could, despite the temptation to treat ourselves as an exceptional fragment of humanity, draw on the accumulated experience and wisdom of all humankind, to define for ourselves what we want to be.

Together with the best in the world, we too are prone to pettiness, petulance, selfishness and short-sightedness.

But it seems to have happened that we looked at ourselves and said the time had come that we make a super-human effort to be other than human, to respond to the call to create for ourselves a glorious future, to remind ourselves of the Latin saying: Gloria est consequenda - Glory must be sought after!

Today it feels good to be an African.

It feels good that I can stand here as a South African and as a foot soldier of a titanic African army, the African National Congress, to say to all the parties represented here, to the millions who made an input into the processes we are concluding, to our outstanding compatriots who have presided over the birth of our founding document, to the negotiators who pitted their wits one against the other, to the unseen stars who shone unseen as the management and administration of the Constitutional Assembly, the advisers, experts and publicists, to the mass communication media, to our friends across the globe - congratulations and well done!

I am an African.

I am born of the peoples of the continent of Africa.

The pain of the violent conflict that the peoples of Liberia, Somalia, the Sudan, Burundi and Algeria is a pain I also bear.

The dismal shame of poverty, suffering and human degradation of my continent is a blight that we share.

The blight on our happiness that derives from this and from our drift to the periphery of the ordering of human affairs leaves us in a persistent shadow of despair.

This is a savage road to which nobody should be condemned.

This thing that we have done today, in this small corner of a great continent that has contributed so decisively to the evolution of humanity says that Africa reaffirms that she is continuing her rise from the ashes.

Whatever the setbacks of the moment, nothing can stop us now!
Whatever the difficulties, Africa shall be at peace!
However improbable it may sound to the sceptics, Africa will prosper!

Whoever we may be, whatever our immediate interest, however much we carry baggage from our past, however much we have been caught by the fashion of cynicism and loss of faith in the capacity of the people, let us err today and say - nothing can stop us now!

Thank you

Life and how to survive it

This was written by a litigator and author of "The Teenage Textbook", Mr Adrian Tan . Very poignant and extremely witty. Also very true.

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.

You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.

The good news is that they’re wrong.

The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.

You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.

I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.

Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan "Arbeit macht frei" was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.

Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.

You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

You’re going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there’s no life expectancy.

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Intentio!

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Impure Mathematics

To prove once and for all that math can be fun, we present:

Wherein it is related how that paragon of womanly virtue, young Polly Nominal (our heroine) is accosted by that notorious villain Curly Pi, and factored (oh horror!!!)
Once upon a time (1/t) pretty little Polly Nominal was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the boundary of a singularly large matrix. Now Polly was convergent, and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, who had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the basis that it was insufficient and made her way in amongst the complex elements. Rows and columns closed in on her from all sides. Tangents approached her surface. She became tensor and tensor. Quite suddenly two branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, lost all sense of
directrix, and went completely divergent. As she tripped over a square root that was protruding from the erf and plunged headlong down a steep gradient. When she rounded off once more, she found herself inverted, apparently alone, in a non-Euclidean space.
She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face.He wondered, "Was she still convergent?" He decided to integrate properly at once.
Hearing a common fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly Pi approaching with his power series extrapolated. She could see at once by his degenerate conic and dissipative that he was bent on no good.
"Arcsinh," she gasped.
"Ho, ho," he said, "What a symmetric little asymptote you have I can see you angles have lots of secs."
"Oh sir," she protested, "keep away from me I haven't got my brackets on."
"Calm yourself, my dear," said our suave operator, "your fears are purely imaginary."
"I, I," she thought, "perhaps he's not normal but homologous."
"What order are you?" the brute demanded.
"Seventeen," replied Polly.
Curly leered "I suppose you've never been operated on."
"Of course not," Polly replied quite properly, "I'm absolutely convergent."
"Come, come," said Curly, "let's off to a decimal place I know and I'll take you to the limit."
"Never," gasped Polly.
"Abscissa," he swore, using the vilest oath he knew.
His patience was gone. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places, and began smoothing out her points of inflection. Poor Polly. The algorithmic method was now her only hope. She felt his digits tending to her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever. There was no mercy, for Curly was a heavyside operator. Curly's radius squared itself; Polly's loci quivered. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. After he cofactored, he performed runge - kutta on her. The complex beast even went all the way around and did a contour integration. What an indignity - to be multiply connected on her first integration. Curly went on operating until he completely satisfied her hypothesis, then he exponentiated and became completely orthogonal.
When Polly got home that night, her mother noticed that she was no longer piecewise continuous, but had been truncated in several places But it was to late to differentiate now. As the months went by, Polly's denominator increased monotonically. Finally she went to L'Hopital and generated a small but
pathological function which left surds all over the place and drove Polly to deviation.
The moral of our sad story is this: "If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom."

La Puta Vida

I spent the better part of this week listening to people bemoaning their lives, preaching about self love and finding a better kind of life. These interesting subjects usually gets me feeling sorry for them and myself but lately its been setting my teeth on edge. Life sucks. She's a bitch. She'll bend you over in the faux meat section of Cold Storage and dry hump you in full view of children, their parents and bemused spectators. Suck it up. Working long hours? Too bad. Boss being a real asshole? Grit your teeth and smile. Not finding the one love in your life? Crock of elephant balls. Wait till you spend days without food, sleeping in a leaky car, in the monsoon season with nothing but a bottle of water for your meals and worrying about being mugged every night and still find the courage and grit to face the new day. Try waking up at 5am just to get to work by 6am, having to move a ton of furniture with a bad back then serving customers who do not care if you lived or died, standing for ten hours or more during your workday and suffering burns, pruned and nicked fingers, cuts, bruises, verbal and mental abuse and earning shitty dollars for it. There are people who do that every day for years and still keep a positive outlook. THAT, my friend, is what everyone should be doing. Chipping away at life one shard at a time. You have to grab and squeeze life by the scrotum. Life constantly pitches curve balls at your groin everyday. Its how you catch it and keep going that matters. I for one choose to take it in the nutsack, smile and say thank you. Because when you hit rock bottom, there is only one place you can go and that is up. Nike hit the proverbial nail in the head with their motto. Just do it. Get up, brush yourself off and MOVE! Nobody owes you a living. So either you follow, lead or get out of the way. Do not just try, DO! Come on people. Let's get started.

Once, a long time ago

Usually I do not get wowed by just any singer or band. Usually the generic, mass produced, karaoke-esque pop that come out of the good ol USA gets a cursory glance from me, sniffed at and passed on. This time, David Ryan Harris gave me some hope. Simple, heartfelt, no major sugary beats. Just honest, everyday feelings when you decide to commit yourself (no, not to the padded white room and strait jackets) to that special someone. A man, a woman, a child, a brother, a sister, a mother, a father. It didn't have to be the narrow vision of love between a man and woman. Sometimes there are other forms of love that is greater than most. Anyhoo, here we go.

Saturday before the sun is up
I'm out the door and on my way I
Catch the two and then the thirty five
And by six fifteen I'm on the train

Thirty miles till the final stop
And still I have to walk a few more
By the time I finally reach your garden's gate
I have nineteen steps till I'm at your door

Oh what a thrill
To finally be with you
And when I see your face I know that

There ain't nothing strong enough to keep me away from you
There can be a wall of fire ten feet or higher
I would just walk on through
Where there once was only room for one
Wherever there will be two

That's why I travel all this way for you
To you
For you

Sunday night and I'm at home alone
And I miss the smell of your perfume
Five long days and four more hours
Till I am there again with you

And oh what a thrill
To finally be with you
When I see your face
I know that

There ain't nothing strong enough to keep me away from you
There can be a wall of fire ten feet or higher
I would walk on through
Where there once was only room for one
Wherever there will be two

That's why I travel all this way for you

Seconds make mintues
Make hours make days
I've added it all up a million ways
Multiply that times a fact and when I'm with you
I feel brand new

That's why I travel all this way for you

There ain't nothing strong enough to keep me away from you
There can be a wall of fire ten feet or higher
I would walk on through
Where there once was only room for one
Wherever there will be two

That's why I travel all this way
Just to see your pretty face
Each and every saturday for you
To you
For you

Breakthough?

I stand here after a wonderful wedding of a close friend, after a ten minute cold shower, after contemplating life during those amazing ten minutes. I saw the immense love exchanged between two people and it made me realize how glorious the human spirit and capacity for love is. I have always questioned myself if it is the right thing to do to find a cause greater than yourself to commit oneself to. I got my answer tonight. I saw two people utterly dedicated to each other and having faced almost insurmountable odds against their relationship come out on top. I saw a man who had the chance to make millions, set that goal aside to commit himself to making his significant other happy. He delayed chances to help his other succeed and in the end help both of them gain true happiness. In return, the universe rewarded the both of them with joy and many other opportunities to make their life better. 'Tis nobler to put the needs and wants of another before yourself. In this, you find the strength and courage greater than the sum of all you are. I hope this gets through to some I have encountered in my life and feel defeated by the overwhelming odds that life has stacked against them. I have seen the proof and the light at the end of the tunnel. Go forth and be more than you can be by being selfless. To truly find self love, self reliance, strength and courage, you have to find it in yourself to give it your all for a cause greater than yourself. That is one of the paths to true compassion and true love.

Be joyful and at peace with yourself tonight.

Eating The World

I was born with my mouth open
entering this juicy world
of peaches and lemons and ripe sun
and the pink and secret flesh of women,
this world where dinner is in the breath
of the subtle desert,
in the spices of the distant sea
which late at night drift over sleep

I was born somewhere between the brain and the pomegranate
with a tongue tasting the delicious textures
of hair and hangs and eyes;
I was born out of the heart stew,
out of the infinite bed, to walk upon
this infinite earth.

I want to feed you the flowers of ice
on this winter window,
the aroma of many soups,
the scent of sacred candles
that follows me around this cedar house,
I want to feed you the lavender
that lifts up out of certain poems,
and the cinnamon of apples baking,
and the simple joy we see
in the sky when we fall in love.

I want to feed you the pungent soil
where i harvested farlic,
I want to feed you the memories
rising out of the aspen logs
when i split them, and the pinyon smoke
that gathers around the house on a still night,
and the mums left by the kitchen door.

What in the hell?

Update!

The morning after writing this drunk (my thanks to Dad, The Dubliner Pub and copious amounts of KilKenny's), I realised I made a few grammatical errors but I'm going to fight the anglophile in me and leave it as is. Just wanted to preserve that moment. I still mean all that I wrote although I would like to add one more point. I've made mistakes. I'm human. I cannot blame her. Have fun reading.
____________________________________________________________________
For most of you regular readers, or those who chance upon my site by some weird twist of fate, I know I have neglected you all for a while now. It isn't easy picking up the pieces. Also my fantastically and seemingly impossible 'disappearance' from all forms of communications was due to my total and utter dedication to that one person who I thought was 'The One'. Sadly I was mistaken and I apologize. The earlier post was about the things I said and thought about during that period. That was how totally absorbed I was with that person. Never again. Just so you know, that whoever is already dead to me. I felt really bad, guilty and really really beat myself up over her because I thought it was my fault that it happened but I found out that it wasn't. Long story and I do not want to slander all those involved. I just wish her the truly happy life and the discovery of the ultimate truth that would set her free.

Bitter as I am, I cannot find it in my heart to hate. Far from it, I felt shattered. Disappointed. How my parents took her in as a person despite any perceived and actual flaws. It's amazing how some have no courage to even apologize, thank or be honest face to face. Obviously I feel real lousy that my parents accepted despite their reservations and objections. I love them both even more now for their eternal patience, tolerance and love they have shown me and everyone I have come on contact with. Never again will I lose myself so completely until I am very sure about things.

On another note, doesn't seem like I mean much. I understand the concept of moving on but with me grieving at the demise of something special, she goes out and gets involved with someone else less than 3 weeks after me. Gee, that's really special indeed. I'm worth less than 3 weeks. Wonderful isn't it? Especially since I gave up everything for that person. Regardless of what has been said, I think if a man is willing to surrender all that he is for someone else, I think it's pretty noble. Isn't that what being selfless is all about?

Besides all these, things are working well for me. Interviews are lining up. Many of which have much potential in terms of job progression, salary and intangible satisfaction.

I was wondering about certain points that was brought up. Real friends do not judge, real friends make the effort regardless of the situation, real friends respect, real friends care, real friends never give up on real friends and real friends have infinite patience and tolerance regardless of situation no matter how 'dried up' you think you are and real friends show common courtesy no matter how pissed off you or they are.

My dear readers, this may never make it back to her but I would love to share this lesson with you. Never give up on friends you consider true, never stop being polite and courteous to them, show them compassion because honesty without compassion and thought is pure cruelty, respect them regardless of their actions and thoughts, be extremely patient and tolerant (there is a difference), never judge them and always always maintain mutual respect.


This is life. Never forget it because in the face of death, it is too late to regret.

Be at peace and my your sleep tonight be of love.

Are you afraid?

Are you afraid...I mean, to let someone in?
To let someone see who you really are?

I'm afraid to move. I'm so scared that this
feeling will leave me as quickly as it came.
I am so afraid that I will be alone once again.
I am so terrified that my heart is going to break.
I am so scared that I'm going to be the one picking
up the pieces of my broken life once again. I am so scared

Here we are...standing at some point in
our lives where both of us are clueless.
Somehow passing this point makes it too hard
to go back, back to days where nothing mattered
where we lived carefree. Maybe somehow we need to go back
or maybe we just aren't ready. I'm not sure
and I'm scared. I'm scared to ruin what we've
already started, and scared to go on to something
I can't handle

I know I could love you much better than this
but I'm afraid it would break my heart

Never want to fly, never want to leave
never want to say what you mean to me.
Never want to run, frightened to believe
you're the best thing about me

Every time she looks at me, I believe it's love and I'm not ready for this sort of thing

We can't be together, you deserve someone so
much better than me, and you know it, and it
kills me that you know it. I can't handle being
in a relationship ... constantly scared that you're
going to find that someone who you deserve

all my life i've fought hard for the things i
have wanted, caught up in blindly believing the
strongest survive, but here, in your eyes,
i see everything i've ever needed and I'm afraid
if i rush in, if i move too fast
i just might frighten my one chance away

I’ve spent years building this complex series
of booby traps so that nobody would ever get too
close, and then you came along with that big beating
heart of yours and broke all those walls down
and it’s just really scary. What if I lose you?

My body trembles.. I shouldn’t be shaking..
I am afraid.. I am so deathly afraid..
I am scared that you are going to walk out that door
out of my life, out of my heart, and never look back.
You are going to realize what everyone else has.
It just takes time. You are going to wake up one day
and realize that you can do so much better and you
are going to gather your things and walk
away and never ever look back

I’m wide awake in the dark, tryin'
to figure out where you are -- always goin
nowhere; afraid of goin' somewhere.
and somewhere's a place in your heart

I don't know what else to say -- except my
intentions are nothing short of honorable.
I've never met anyone like you before. You scare me

well, what aren't you scared of? you live in this safe
little world where no one challenges you and you're
scared shitless to do anything else but defend yourself
cause that would mean you'd have to change
you're afraid that i won't love you back
and you know what? i'm afraid, too.

it’s okay to be scared. I’m scared.
We’re all scared. The world’s a scary
place and the other night we took a scary
leap in our relationship and maybe we shouldn’t have.
But please don’t be scared of me

But now, these days..I just can't say as much
as I want to to your face. I've become scared
to death of what you'll say back

We have lived a lifetime most couples never know
and yet, when I look at you, I am frightened by the
knowledge that all this will be ending soon
Maybe I'm scared to say I'm falling for you

I need to tell you something that will either
make or break us, but I can't live with the
wondering of how things could be without telling you.
And even though I know that whatever time we have left
is little, and I know that there's someone else …
for some reason, all the reasons that should be
keeping me from saying this just don't matter to me.
But I have to tell you before I completely lose
myself even more in you. I love you. But not
in the way that I 'want to spend the rest of my
life with you.' It's more of 'I don't know what
I would do without you.' You're the epitome of
everything I've ever searched for in another person
and I don't know what I'm going to do when you're
not there to make everything okay anymore.
Who am I going to go to when I need someone to
make me feel okay about the fact that I'm going
to miss you more than anyone I've ever missed before?
Who's going to make the fact that I just can't call
you to tell you 'good-night' okay? I've never been this
scared of losing someone

I've never been as confident of anything in
my entire life as I am about 'us'. And well
frankly, that makes me a little scared

I've been trying not to love you, I've been
putting up a fight. I've been barely holding
on and letting go with all my might.
There's a part of me that's empty, I know only
love can fill. I'm afraid I'll never find it
and scared to death I will

You mean so much to me, that I'm scared to
close my eyes and open them and see that you're not there.
And I'm scared to leave them open to see you leaving me

I'm afraid because you're the single-most
important being to ever grace my existence

You've done it, you've made me start
to fall in love with you.
I'm sitting here crying because I'm so
scared but at the same time
I'm so happy I'm falling in love with you.
You're the person I've waited for all this time
the person I've looked for all my life and when
I least expected it you walked into my life.
You listened when I talked, was there when I
cried and made me finally smile. I'm crying for
the last time I hope, I trust that you won't hurt me.
It's so hard for me to trust anyone, but you're
worth it to me. So, here's my heart, see all the
little cracks... they're pretty small and healed
nicely, but you, I know, that you're the one that
could make it completely shatter. Promise me you
wont, please, promise me you'll love me forever
and that you won't break my heart.
Even if you can't promise me that
I'll give you my heart anyway, cause I know
that if I don't give you my heart I'll regret
it for the rest if my life, cause you're the
one person who is necessary to my life

And every night I pray to God that the things
you say are true, because I'm so
afraid that I'm going to lose you

The idea of being with you always made me happy ...
until I realized you were perfect for me...
now it just makes me scared

I'm afraid of loving you
cause the next step is losing you
and my heart couldn't do that

I'm afraid that I'm not enough for you
and I never will be, and if I do this
you'll realize that you've grown way beyond
me and I'm just going to lose you again

I'd like to run away from you
but if you never found me I would die

You're so afraid to continue what we have
you know something's there, you feel just as
much as I do when you touch me, you like it
just as much as I do when you kiss me,
it's just your pulling away now because you
know that if you don't pull away soon you
might find yourself falling in love and I don't
think you're prepared for that

Have you ever really thought about it?
You've got this guy, head over heels in love with you.
He'd do anything for you, he'd die for you.
But for some reason, you don't want to see that.
You know it's there, and you know that you feel the same way.
But you refuse to let it be. Maybe you're scared.
Maybe you're scared of the thought that this guy who
you've known forever - you've seen him happy,
you've seen sad -- maybe this guy is perfect for you.
And that really scares you, doesn't it?

Maybe the deepest part of who we are is what scares
us or breaks our hearts and we don't want to share
that with anyone and when we do
we don't want to lose those people

I am afraid to show you who I really am
because if I show you who I really am
you might not like it... and that's all I got

In the end, given enough time, everything comes off.

I did it. I took it all off. I look like Uncle Fester. Or Curly of the 3 Stooges. A new beginning perhaps? I hope so.

New Year

I stand here in the new year. Loss for words. Where many people give you their perspective on the new year, I look back and see myself 7 years into the new millennium and I have nothing to give you all. No advice, no experiences, no witty comments.

Why? You may ask yourself of me. I'm tired beyond belief. I suffer constantly, have no steady income, no three meals a day, no roof over my head, no one to truly love. Why? Because I still refuse to play the game. To participate in the Savage Garden. I have not, do not and never will believe that the strong will inherit the earth. Call it naivete, or what ever ten dollar term you can come up with but I will always have the belief that I will survive. Through betrayals and setbacks. Through hardships and curve balls. Through the shit life can sling at you at any moment. I believe. Nothing can change that. Even when I starve alone on the streets of a foreign country devoid of friends and family. To my very last breath, whatever game that anyone plays, I will survive.

I will be the last. I will overcome. I will lead and endure.

Why?

Simply because I am me and I cannot and will not be denied. Ever.

HAPPY 30TH!!

I MADE IT. The big 30. I didn't die from the excesses of alcohol, drugs and sex (wahaha I wouldn't mind the last one). I lucked my way through possible car wreaks that would have done me in permanently. I ducked cancer. I faked out STDs. Danced around brain aneurysm. Dived out of the way of heart attacks.

With all that, I shouldn't have hatchet my counts before they chickened. Erm... or something like that. Still got side-swiped, blind-sided, back-handed and smacked upside the head by fever and flu. Goddammit I never catch a fucking break. I spent the whole of my birthday in bed with a high fever and a flu. Started the night before and I should have taken preventative measures. Noooo..... naturally I never listen. In fact I had a jug of Tiger and a Flaming Lamborghini before my stomach went "Uh oh". Head Throbbed. Eyes Bulged. Throat Scratchy. Dick Itche... okay maybe not that. I suddenly alternated between being on fire and being set on ice. I nearly crashed driving home because I was shivering so much. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

Welcome to the club. You are signed up for life. This is when things start going heart-breakingly downhill. When teenagers start calling me uncle. And toddlers calling me daddy (Oookkay, hopefully not this soon).

Thank you to all my peeps who love me and supported me all this time. I love you guys from the bottom of my heart. I haven't always been the best friend to you all but I always try. I fuck up some times and I'm sorry. Yet here you all are, and that means the world to me. Thank you again.

And to my haters, I'm not dead, I won't be going any where for a long time and I definitely will still be all up in your faces again. And again. And again. And again.

Don't like it?

Suck it.

Peace.

Faith, Hope, Courage

Recent events got me thinking. Humans as a race are potentially and incalculably strong yet fragile. We walked on the moon, mapped the genome, discovered the atom, create beautiful art forms, are capable of great good (and evil) and have attained some form of spiritual enlightenment. We have conquered and are able to reign in the skies, the earth, the seas and even, to a point, outer space.

Yet we are slaves to the same achievements and the elements that govern it. Famine, war, floods, typhoons but to name a few. These words pour, no, explode out of me. Water, the very base element of life, where we came from, 70% of what we are made of, coincidently is also the percentage of water to land mass. That very element has the ability to destroy us also. Floods, tsunamis, typhoons and hurricanes kill us in our hundreds of thousands. We come out of it stronger (albeit numerically less). We persevere. We endure. We survive.

And I know the reason why. The same three things that drive, nurture and feed me. That's right! Faith, Hope and Courage. The unshakeable faith in myself which gives me the indefatigable hope that we can be a great people and that spawns the unwavering courage to wake up every day and face it. The world weighs heavily on my bones but I trudge on. I trudge on because, like water, these very three things sustain me. And it should sustain you too.

More pictures

B4C (bunch of dancing monkeys I reckon)

Cosmic Space Monkeys (with Joey G)
DJ Nesh, man of the moment
Martin Mo-Fingers aka Morty No-Fingers (lazy bugger DJs off a playlist on his Mac)
Transit Vortex

Lateral thinking

I just got this in my email. Normally I would have hit the delete button without even reading it but since it came from my Boo, it had to be good.

And it is....

An atheist professor of philosophy speaks to his class on the problem science has with God, The Almighty.
He asks one of his new students to stand and.....

Prof: So you believe in God?

Student: Absolutely, sir.

Prof : Is God good?

Student: Sure.

Prof: Is God all-powerful?

Student : Yes.

Prof: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to God to heal him.
Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God didn't. How is this God good then? Hmm?
(Student is silent.)

Prof: You can't answer, can you? Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?

Student: Yes.

Prof: Is Satan good?

Student : No.

Prof: Where does Satan come from?

Student: From...God.. .

Prof: That's right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?

Student: Yes.

Prof: Evil is everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything. Correct?

Student: Yes.

Prof: So who created evil?
(Student does not answer.)

Prof: Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don't they?

Student: Yes, sir.

Prof: So, who created them?
(Student has no answer.)

Prof: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and observe the world around you.

Tell me, son...Have you ever seen God?

Student: No, sir.

Prof: Tell us if you have ever heard your God?

Student: No, sir.

Prof: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelt your God?
Have you ever had any sensory perception of God for that matter?

Student: No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.

Prof: Yet you still believe in Him?

Student: Yes.

Prof: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your GOD doesn't exist.
What do you say to that, son?

Student: Nothing. I only have my faith.

Prof: Yes. Faith. And that is the problem science has.

Student: Professor, is there such a thing as heat?

Prof: Yes.

Student: And is there such a thing as cold?

Prof: Yes.

Student: No sir. There isn't.
(The lecture theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events.)

Student : Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat.
But we don't have anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no heat, but we can't go
any further after that. There is no such thing as cold . Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of
heat . We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy . Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it .
(There is pin-drop silence in the lecture theatre.)

Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?

Prof: Yes. What is night if there isn't darkness?

Student : You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright
light, flashing light....But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? In
reality, darkness isn't. If it were you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?

Prof: So what is the point you are making, young man?

Student: Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed.

Prof: Flawed? Can you explain how?

Student: Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue there is life and then there is death, a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life: just the absence of it.
Now tell me, Professor.Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?

Prof: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do.

Student: Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?
(The Professor shakes his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument is going.)

Student: Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a preacher? (The class is in uproar.)

Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor's brain?
(The class breaks out into laughter.)

Student : Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor's brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain,sir.
With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir?
(The room is silent. The professor stares at the student, his face unfathomable. )

Prof: I guess you'll have to take them on faith, son.

Student: That is it sir... The link between man & god is FAITH . That is all that keeps things moving & alive.

Andy Warhol moment

I just got this from a friend of mine. I just got to put it up. Now.... where did I put that video camera of mine.....

Excerpt from Shon (Shaharris)

"..... Here's what I spent my ENTIRE FREAKING WEEKEND making. 48 hours into 3 minutes, folks; 3 minutes. This is an audition vid for Discovery Travel and Living's "5 takes" program, where they toss $50 a day to people to travel round the world and record weekly video blogs and write regular daily blogs for their cult-followed TV show. I'm actually really proud of this, this is my first attempt/video/make ever, and I think it's okay.

Note: The section at the end (after "Why pick me?") was actually 10 separate clips... unfortunately, lack of foresight (I figured out what I was going to say before hand, then did ~30 takes to get it right so I wouldn't need to move) makes it look like it's one continuous stream (instead of the VERY OBVIOUS 10 separate clips I wanted it to be). Oh well. It was SUPPOSED to look really choppy and informercial-like, but time constraints (had to be below 3 minutes) really messed up my timing. I'd also like there to be 2-3 seconds attached to every still in the video for more cohesion and allowance for the visual humour to really kick in. bleh."

Free video hosting, video codes at www.vidiLife.com

This is how I feel at the moment.

Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a mans soul and faith
And I was round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game
I stuck around St. Petersburg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
I rode a tank
Held a generals rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah
I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they made
I shouted out,
Who killed the Kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reached Bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s confusing you
Is just the nature of my game
Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Lucifer
cause I’m in need of some restraint
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or Ill lay your soul to waste, um yeah
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, um yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

Imperfection

Perfectionists. The image that comes to mind is a miserable, never satisfied individual constantly striving the unachieveable. I have seen instances where people are so perfectly (pun) involved and cocooned in their own universe of perfection that it affects everyone, everything and every situation they are in. I have nothing but respect for their drive, their persistence, their unflaggable energy and rock solid self confidence. But we are, after all, fallible and there has to be a breaking point. These perfectionists are fantastic when it comes any organization they are in. It's hell for their family and friends. I know. One of the people I respect the most in my life (Dad) is one.

Still there is the break point, the period of time when they snap, burst a vein, have a stroke, heart attack and/or mental breakdown. Case in point. I know of two people who have the perfect life (as far as perfect goes) and you would think they would be happy. Then out of the blue, they try to kill themselves and are unsuccessful (perfectionists are lousy at suicide). It reminds me of a dialogue from The Matrix where the machines tried to create a perfect world in the minds of the human slaves and lose hundreds of thousands because the human mind cannot comprehend, encompass and accept perfection. Imperfection is what we live for. It gives us hope and something to strive for. That is what we are all about. I'm as imperfect as they come (and too damned lazy to do anything about it) and I am truly happy. Content even. I like people for their good attributes but I love them for their flaws. Absolutely. It is our flaws that make us. Not so much what we start but how we decide to end them that shows and reminds me how human we are. How real. How mortal. How imperfect and in that, how perfect we are as a species. Why talk about our previous and future lifetimes when it is hard enough trying to get through this one? When this one already has so much to offer?

And even this imperfect creature has moments. This one has ended.

More Pictures.

Bleh...

Tash and Moi

Hot Lip Locking Action (way to go Mark)

N.. N... NESH!!

Sitting Pretty.

The Best There Was.

I'm one of the best damned underbosses money can buy. Loyal, street-smart and the avid practitioner of what I just found out to be called System D.

System D? Underboss? Lu Gong Si Mi, Kamu Cakap Apa? (translated roughly: you talking what thing?) As always, I get ahead of myself and I shall now attempt to explain.

With my oh so pathetic and brief sojourn into the world of chefs, D.D. (from the French term de of debrouillard or demerder) is used to describe a person, generally the plongeur (dish washer, toilet cleaner or bus boy), who when told to do the impossible, will se debrouiller - get it done somehow. They belong to a subculture within the subculture of chefs, cooks and restaurant lifers. They are the MacGyvers of the restaurant world. It is truly a beautiful thing to watch a busboy repair an industrial fridge with a blunt rusty spoon. The ability to think fast, to adapt, to improvise when in danger of falling in the weeds, dans la merde or up shit creek without a paddle. You need to be talented at what you do with a criminal mind, a Sergeant Bilko-like character who, in addition to being a superb worker, have to be fully versed in the manly arts of scrounging, general repair, surreptitious entry, intelligence collection, subordination and the effortless acquisition of objects what do not rightly belong to him/her. For System D to work, one requires a certain level of plausible deniability.

With that in mind, I was one of the best. A Master Debrouiller being watched over and taught the hard lessons by a GrandMaster (thanks Kenneth). Wherever I went, whomever I worked with, I was the 'go to' guy. The guy you go to for all your problems and darkest desires. Whatever I was hired to do, I did well but my most treasured talents had nothing at all to do with the 'job scope'. I repaired, horded, gathered, juggled, clawed, weaseled, played, and fed the game. Backed up toilet? No problem. Busted router? I can get a new one for ten bucks. Missing two boxes of A4 paper from your store? Give me five minutes to get them for you. Flat tire on your car? 1 hour and I'll have your tire of the same make, size and brand, spanking new and fitted wherever you are. Lost in the jungles of Brunei? I can get you get airlifted in 24 hours (okay, maybe not). You get the idea. I was connected, fast and efficient. American Express and DHL combined had nothing on me. Managing Directors and CEOs were what people aimed to meet. I preferred the nobodies. The lowly toilet cleaner, security guards, the bottom of the rungs. People who are the crankshafts and gears of any organization. THEY are the ones who can get you anything and everything. And all you need was the occasional beer, coffee, nasi lemak and good conversation to maintain the network. I was the underboss to the Capofamigila. The Sotto Capo.

I left it all behind. Gave it up. Stepped down. Why? I had the skills, talent and organization. But I also had no life, no sex, no love, no family dinners and no sleep. I was on my toes 25/8. Being who I was meant stepping on tails. It meant contingency after contingency. Looking over my shoulder constantly. Every motion, action, spoken word was measured, analyzed, catalogued. I was 25 but I looked and felt 50. I chain-smoked. I chased alcohol alone for fear of loose lips. Everyone was a potential enemy, friend, and network potentate. Then enlightenment (or Life's Bitchslap). Life was more than this. Much more. Now with nothing more than the clothes on my back and a few dollars in my pocket, I moved to a foreign country with foreign people, with no safety net to start over. To attempt to become more of a person than a machine. I've had my disappointments but I also had my euphoric highs. And it is those moments I live for. All of it, warts, boils, scarred tissue, pimple, abscess and freckle.

World Cup Fever!

Damn those 22 men chasing a white ball up and down the field. Curse those massive projector screens that inundate anyone in a 1 mile radius with updates, analysis and games. I tried oh so hard to stay away from them but it was and still is a losing battle. I find myself screaming at poor judgements by the referees, the near hits on goal, the bitching about the very well paid players being full of themselves. My life is in near ruins because of football. The commentator's comments are really entertaining though. Stuff like 'Shooting fish in a barrel', 'the player is using his head in more ways than one (player headed the ball)'. I'm just waiting for kindergarten limmericks to start being thrown around. Something along the lines of 'And the cow jumped over the moon and the dish ran off with the spoon'.

On another note, I lost my phone. Or rather, some asswipe bastard child nicked my phone. They work fast though. Less than a minute of distraction was all that was needed for them to work me.

Been reading Matt Ridley's Red Queen. Extremely fascinating how he approaches the question of sex. Many have the knowledge of how it came about but he attempts to answer the question of why. I'm still uninspired. I need to write but I need angst and anger for my muse to find me. I lost the flow to spit my rhymes so to speak.

I'm done for this week. I want to sleep a century before I make an appearance again.

Dancing in the Moonlight

Was at Laundry Bar again last night (in fact, I've been there every night since I came back). I have no life. But it was fun.

Issac Entry and Friends was really really good. It's been a while since I heard anyone with such a bluesy voice. It really reminded me of the old B.B. King (no not Burger King) records. This guy has been everywhere, from Nice to Madrid, Melbourne to London. Husky, sublime and very soulful, I can see why he has a very loyal group of fans who follows him everywhere. I bumped into Fairy last night and she looked cute with an oversized FUBU cap. My good friend Alex is back from Melbourne (finally) and it's Parrrrtayyyy time.

Final part of the night, I took off my shirt and glasses and ran in the rain and danced a little jig. It was fun, weird and probably made Fairy think twice about ever talking to me ever again. But damn it was refreshing to be a kid once in a while.


Issac Entry and Friends


Alex, Moi and Jenny


HuiZhen the pixie


WestSide y'all.


Jen-meister and Hippie boy.


Let's see, should we diversify our portfolio?

Meeeoorrrwwwwww.

MC Vandal and Issac Entry.



MC Vandal Freestyling

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Me running in the rain

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Hater Disclaimer

I do not normal qualify or justify my ways to anyone, but since I am starting to get hate mail (which has been anticipated), I do this for the benefit of all future hate mail/messages.

DISCLAIMER

1. I love easy because it is my way. But do not mistake that for a weakness because I may be a man of infinite patience but I am one of limited tolerances. Be very sure that if you piss me off, the term ‘to the very ends of the earth’ will take on very real overtures.

2. Unless you are able to hold intelligent discourses in literate English on the critique of my character, do not bother to leave any messages because it shows to my readers and I that you are a person of limited personality, intelligence, poor upbringing and no social life with maternal issues, clinical ADD, acute dyslexia and extremely poor grasp of the English language ESPECIALLY if you have to slam me behind the anonymity of the internet. The murder of the English language is painful enough; you do not have to sodomize it post-mortem. My concerned advice to you is get professional help and a hobby. Keeping all that festering hate inside atrophies your mind and spirit. Plus it’s a really lousy waste of good harddisk space for blogspot.

3. There is a wise saying that might IMPROVE your social life by leaps and bounds. It is ‘If you have nothing nice to say about a person, do not say it’. Here’s another one. ‘Wanking to internet porn makes you a blind social outcast’.

4. I’m not a perfect person with gentlemanly tendencies. I never claim to be one and very possibly will keep it that way for the rest of my life. In fact, I’ve re-iterated from time to time I’m an extremely jaded and flawed person. Any notion that YOU, the anonymous hater, have in your head that I’ve said that I am, YOU really have to read my blog properly before making that assumption.

5. If my social life sickens you in any way, shape or form, please do yourself (and me) a favour and stop visiting my blog. I cannot pay for your medical expenses if I scar you in any way. I need that money for my booze thank you very much.

6. It takes a certain measure of fearlessness and ego for someone to even start a blog. I am completely fearless and have too huge an ego for you to lay the smackdown to both my online persona and my real life persona. Accept it, suck it up and move on.

7. If you have the ‘Who’s got the bigger dick’ syndrome, here’s a moot point; I’m a Chinese man, I have a small dick and I’m proud of it. If you have a big dick, congrats. If you do not, no worries because you are not alone. Balls, on the other hand, are highly subjective and debatable especially when it comes to YOU, the anonymous hater.

8. Lastly, before I sign off, if you can properly channel the ‘energy’, ‘enthusiasm’ and time you use in slamming people on their blogs, you might be able to do something constructive with your life; like saving dolphins, procreating, improving your English, getting your next promotion, become a millionare, start an inspirational blog, and/or making sure your parents retire comfortably. Leave a good legacy behind, leave this world a better place than when you first entered it and not a life of misery for you and the people around you. Or you can always start a cult and kill yourself.

With that said, have yourself a very peachy life.

Love

Marcus

Back with a vengence

Finally, I got my ass back from Singapore. Back in good old KL. Other than mumsy's birthday, I was pretty much in limbo there. Fortunately I had a wonderful person who came down from KL to give me a much needed intermission from my boredom. We went for drinks and talked about life in KL like I've been away for years. It's amazing how one can become so attached to a place and miss it so much just being away from it for only a week. I had the same yearning with Melbourne. I still do.

One thing that really got to me back there was the service (or the lack thereof) which most people pass as 'good'. I've been in the F&B industry for a number of years, and I am proud to say that I came from the old school of hard knocks, and it is really disappointing to see the downward spiral of the industry in general. No one takes pride in their work any more. I can understand when an outlet is busy and they take a bit of time to serve you water (rule of thumb is never let your customer's glass get less than 1/3 full or more than 5 minutes for a refill when they ask for one). I can even understand if they take 20 mins to refill your glass, but what I do not understand is, when I ask for the bill and after 45 mins and serveral reminders later, the bill has not arrived. That in itself is just poor business and lack of interest. I have a 20 min rule where if the bill does not arrive in 20 mins after being requested for, I walk. Which is what I did. No way am I paying for something that I garnered no satisfaction from.

Last night, Laundry was the bomb. It rocked, especially with the live band. I've found a place I belong to now. It was so easy to just walk up to someone and pick up a conversation and good company. Barring the need to sow my wild oats and spreading my seed, it seems that Laundry has gotten the formula right. The ambience, music and people really makes it worth while staying, although the service could be improved with slightly more experienced staff (yes the service issue again). Not that I am plugging the place on my blog (and not the fact that not many people read my blog any way), but finding a place where you belong is really rare. It harks back in the heady days of the mid 80's where everyone was just out to socialise and have fun rather than get really drunk and getting laid.

I'm planning to do something completely out of character soon but if you want to know what, you just have to stay tuned folks.

More Pics

Pouty, pouty, pout...

Sweetness Personified. Oh and Celyn is sweet too.

Morning After

I look like a woman in this one.

Sooking Session Over

It's over. I've let it pass. Breathe. Ommmmmmm....

Oooo lookie, UFOs!!

Party On DUDES AND DUDETTES!!!

Look at his teeth!!

Damn similar smiles man.

He was stoned and wet.

Deaded

My dear Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, and bald headed babies, my laptop is.. how shall I put this, dieded. Ergo, I will not be blogging for a while till I get it fixed, which would take a while.

Plus I got slammed as a copycat/wannabe/sad case by someone I admire, so I'm going to go sulk a little and be back once I feel better.

Ciaos my lovelies.

Drop and roll.

I'm in a very weird place today. I woke up buzzing, had loads of coffee and went over the edge. I was a really tightly wound package of ADD, tourettes, and sugar buzz. I was all over the place.... I was in two different places at once. I played hide and seek with a friend in Mid Valley Mega Mall (ALL of MegaMall) and couldn't find her. I suffered from Matrix-esque moments where I was buzzing so hard and so fast, everything seemed to be in slow motion. I was Hammy the Squirel in Over The Hedge. I was mad, crazy, and twitching. Nervous ticks started to jump around on my body. I talked and talked and talked. And talked. And TALKED. I drove like I felt. Making screeching tyre, and revving engine noises. I spoke to myself constantly. To sum it all up, I HAPPENED.... as follows:






And the Piece De Resistance:


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Party!!!!

Saturday. VelvetUnderground. Rain. Nuff said.




Looking Glam even after emptying lunch and dinner into a drain


Glam Dahlink, Glam.


Vouge, Vouge, Vouge, Vouge, Vouge.....


A Mentos moment


Girls, Girls, Girls


"She take me money, when I'm in need...."

Mentos moment Number Two


Mmmmm candy apples!!

More Girls, Girls, Girls


Sufficiently inebriated


The ONE that got away



Ah Nek, Vodka Cranberry Satu Lagi!!!



Maori Greeting


Myyyy Booooo



Wadup Cuz


Clash of the Pearly Whites

Blackmail, sex, lies and photographs

Today was so 'Days of Our Lives'. June and I had this moment. Picture this, sitting innocently (yeah right!) at Starbucks @ the Curve (second home), to my left was a gay guy and his trannie friend and to my right a really pissed looking Malay woman.

Gay/Trannie Conversation (overheard, we are innocent, I tells ya, innocent)

(On the mobile)
Gay guy: Look I'm not happy with what is happening (Trannie shoots a knowing glance).

(rattles on in Malay)

Gay guy: If you are going to tell everyone about us, why don't you start with your parents first and about us in location A, B, C, D. (whoa kinky sex time) and tell them what we did.

(Trannie stuffs her/his face with cake)

(Gay guy goes on about the gory, sordid details with a flapping and bent wrist)

Gay guy: So what? You still not telling them? Remember I have PHOTOS!!

Note: the Gay guy is one hairy mutha but his face was glowing like a diamond. He is one oily fucker.


At this point in time, we zoned out because the matter of traversing the 'Hershey Highway' would leave permanent scars our shrinks will never solve.

With one episode done, another 'Bold and the Beautiful' moment started.

Pissed Malay Lady Conversation (has the DO NOT FUCK WITH ME face)

Pissed Malay Lady: Stop calling me. YOU are a sick man. (I thought she was talking about me). YOU never told me you had a wife. I'm going to tell my mom and dad AND your mom and dad.

(listens to the guy on the other line)

Pissed Malay Lady: I'm transferring all the money back into your account (KEPT WOMAN). Why don't you keep all your bullshit for the next bitch you come across (you go girl). Stop calling me because I have nothing to say to you. Good Bye (finality in her voice).

(hangs up)

Life is made up of many moments. This is one I wished did not happen.

Tender Loving Care

My my, the things that people would say just to get attention. Was out with Eevon and June today to get a cuppa. Turns out that some guy insisted we go to his outlet for coffee because it was apparently 'high class'. Okkkk.... I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. So we were off to Boulevard Hotel at Mid Valley. Came up to the ninth floor and encountered, what it seemed at that time, a fine dining restaurant. Of course I had to be in my surf shorts and T-shirt and I was mumbling to myself, 'If they kick me out or refuse entry, I'm playing the tourist card.'

So there I was happily skipping (yes I was skipping) into this place and met this guy (who turns out, had the hots for Eevon and is so transparently trying too hard) who apparently sells coffee and tea products. This restaurant (called Wild Rice, I remember now) is one of those high tea, Tai Tai welcoming places *shiver*. One thing I learnt during my oh so short year stint with a coffee chef was that the best way to judge the quality of the coffee and the barista was to order an espresso and try it. Long story short, bad coffee beans, bad barista. Starbucks had better coffee and their coffee sucks. So any hoo, this guy was going full on trying to impress us by giving us the ten cent tour of the place. There was this spa with a private movie theater in it (ooooo.... ahhhhhhh....). Would have been a pleasant experience if the movie choice was right. This guy (i hate typifying him as this guy so let's call him wannabe), ahem, wannabe chose this movie called "18 Fingers Of Death". Uh oh. Turns out it was a Z grade movie that was a huge rip off from Kung Pow. Wannabe's phone kept ringing off the hook in the theater so June and I decided to split quick. Walked out and we bumped into some people Wannabe knew and he turned on his charm (*cough* bullshit*cough*) and was saying something about being in the UK. Big fucking deal. And then he slipped. Big time. He broke one of my cardinal rules. He faux pax-ed. He made a quick judgement call on Shon. Shon's a sweetheart. An American Born Chinese of sorts, a little loud, very funny but an all round nice guy. Wannabe said he was irritating and weird. Stupid move bitch. Next time I see you, I'm ripping your eye out and skull fucking you. Idiot savant, puerile plebian, poor excuse of an ah beng. CALLOUS OAF. Lousy dress sense, ner' do well who cannot afford a proper belt buckle. Christ, get a fashion advisor, go to Banana Republic, Raoul or G2000 and spend some money.

I'm a bitch. So sue me.





Mr. Creepy Stalker in the background. Fwawwer!!!


SURPRISE!!!


Candid Shot


New Nokia BillBoard

Retardation.



___________________________________________________________________
My car's battery went flat. Again. This time at the Curve. Worst part of it is the key to start my car was different to the key to open my door. And me being me, I left the key for the door IN THE CAR. I had a friend with me who needed a ride back immediately so you can imagine my dilemma.

This is where I have to admit that my two years spent in the military (enforced labour) did me some good. I managed to jimmy the boot open, unhook the entire back seat, climb in to get the key and open the doors. That was when I realised my battery was deader (no such word I know) than yesterday's lunch. I begged, pleaded and riled at my car to start. Fortunately, some kindly security guards at the Curve came to the rescue... for a price (amazing what RM10 can buy you). One of the guards had a car and jumper cables (thank you Jesus). What really cracked me up was he drove a nicer car than mine (really really, and I mean REALLY, souped up albiet old Mazda RX7). We exchanged some pointers, smoked and testosterone-nised while the car charged up.

Goes to show the older the car, the more TLC you need to give it. Of course that is after I kicked the tires hard. Tough love, as they say, is a bitch. Caramel Latte anyone?

Morbid

If there was any justice in the world, I'd be a dead man at least twice over.

By this, I mean simply that many times in my life the statistical probabilities of a fatal outcome have been overwhelming, thanks to my sins of excess, poor judgement and my inability to say no to anything that sounded as if it might have been fun. By all rights, I should have been, at various times, shot to death, stabbed to death, imprisoned or at the very least, been victimised by a melon sized tumour.

I often use the hypothetical out of control school bus. What would happen if I was walking acros the street and was suddenly hit by a careening (and atypical) yellow school bus carrying primary school kids? As I lie there, in my last few moments of consciousness, what kind of final regrets flash through my mind. I should have had that last cigarette, dropped acid back in '98 as my welcome to australia present, done that cute bar hostess, should have had more fun, relaxed a little more, enjoyed myself a little more.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?) I will never have that problem. When they are yanking that fender out of my chest cavity, my regrets will be more along the lines of a sad list of people hurt, let down, assests wasted and advantages squandered.

I'm still here. And I am surprised by that. Every day.

Blardy Hell

I damn dumb. Was a bit the lazy and wasn't reading much. Fuck so this is how you upload photos........

Mahai, that means no more excuses on not uploading.

Shit.

These are just testing uploads.

Good girls got to get with the Gangstas

I found a place. Finished my tattoo finally. Friend got really drunk, took off his pants and wanted to take a crap in the living room on the sofa. A pretty eventful month if you ask me. I have to go back to Singapore to vote in the new elections apparently but the process of how these politicians boost their 'popularity' with the masses have become so transparent. Not that it's not a good thing but it isn't when politics is involved. In a way, it's gangster-ism at it's finest. Let me break it down for you and you decide.

The Peoples Action Party (PAP) has announced their new candidates. Its merely replacing the 'old birds' with new ones and not like it would make a difference. They are going to win every year anyways. Opposition parties have to be approved with new stringent rules by none other than the ruling party. Like what the hell?!?!?

All the new candidates look like they were born into wealth. Doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, lawyers, CEO, lawyers... people with all the money in the world wants to make the world a better place? For them maybe, but definitely not us tortured people. If they want to change the world, go join the opposition parties. They need people like them. The current ruling party will win with or without you. And the PAP have the cheek to say that the opposition parties are lacking in effective leadership, pity them oh poor them. Talk about double standards. Aren't the people living in estates led by the opposition also Singaporeans? So why is it that the budget for those areas so slim that they can't even afford to 'upgrade'.

At least in the 1960s, the government fought off communists, rubbed shoulders with the poor and felt their pain. Nowadays the new MPs come from rich families, good schools or good jobs, with no experience of the hard knock life. Most of them do not even need to fight in elections because they always have walkovers.

Now that it is almost voting time, they dredge up the old T.T Durai fiasco after a year to show that they are doing something. I mean like, come on, they can sue, bankrupt and exile a man of high social and economic status in two weeks and they can't handle Durai? Bullshit.

Which in a nutshell is what politics is all about. That and marketing degrees.

Tale of Caution

I decided to make up for February by posting another... um post. Had a bit of time on my hands since my car is in the workshop and I'm chilling here with free broadband. That's the thing about KL. They have free Broadband Wifi everywhere and my so called technologically advanced country (read: Singapore), it's so hard to find a nice place with free Wifi and in some places, I have to pay for it. Was reminiscing on the times I had in Melbourne. The parties, uni, friends, brushes with the law, my first time wreaking a car, people getting stabbed, coffee at 4am in the morning, illicit substance abuse, drinking benders, drive-by egging, large missing blocks of memories (alcohol induced) etc. I miss those days and it's hard to believe that it's been over 3 years since I left. I always wondered if I had the balls to do it, my 1500 word assignments would be drawn as a 1 1/2 pictures. The time when a friend of mine once commented that humans are the only species to go out of our way to obtain milk after we've been weaned and I replied that we were the only species with cookies. When I had silly debates with friends like a girl who was a virgin was inconceivable, unbearable or impregnable. About getting an 8 ball glass eye so that people can read our condescending answers without me even saying anything. And how the U.S of A has reached a new age where nobody is responsible for their actions:

Me: Holy Shit, I killed someone. Bob made me do it.
Bob: Joe made me do it.
Joe: I blame the media.
Media: Video Games
Video Games: Personal Responsibility
Personal Responsibility: Hi, I'm not in. Please leave a message after the beep. *BEEP*

Or how we were all about cautious optimism. We know the sun will rise from the East tomorrow but chances are someone is out to fuck me over so we go out with sunglasses and buttplugs. Or having friends so cheap, they sleep with women, then tell them they have HIV so the women will freak out and get tested and when the results are negative, they call my friends and say they are safe. Where we want a woman who loves us for our money but doesn't understand math. Wondering why lesbians go out with other women who look like men is like wanting to go skydiving and buying a submarine. Thinking if my brother was hit by a bus and had to have both legs amputated, would it mean I would have a half brother instead?

I will now sign off with a wise saying of mine, "sorry isn't an excuse when you do something stupid on purpose"

Home Alone

February came and went. I completely forgot about the blog and wasn’t able to get to my emails for about 2 weeks. Moved into a new place which is a lot bigger than the last one up here in KL. It was pretty nightmareish but we moved everything from the old place to the new one in about 18 hours which in itself is a feat. I have to thank all our friends who helped out. It’s been almost a month since we moved into the new place and almost everything is done. I was surprised when I first walked into the house because it had nothing. I really meant nothing. The previous owner stripped the house bare (literally!). There was no wall sockets, wires were hanging out from every possible orifice, there were no toilet bowls, there were no taps and that’s just the beginning. I really wondered if the previous owners were so cheap (or desperate for money) that they had to take EVERYTHING. I am all for recycling and saving the earth but this …. THIS ….. takes the cake. I suspect that if the tiled marble floors were not cemented down tight, they would have taken it too. Well at least you have to admire their tenacity in leaving nothing behind. I’m hiring those people to strip down the house if I ever move and maybe have their tight arses suck out a brick or two from the wall so that I would have spares for the new place.

On another note, I finally did my second tattoo and it’s HUGE. Even Solomon who has 8 tattoos said it was too big. I sat through my first session last week and it took a lot of deep breathing to keep from squealing like a little schoolgirl. Still it was all good and do not really look forward to the next two sessions but hey, that’s the whole point of suffering for my art. This story was told to me halfway through the session which cracked me up. Some time back, this Indian bodybuilder (with an American accent no less. Yeah, Yo waddup my nigger) came into the parlour blustering and puffing his already massively gross pecs asking for Simon (one of the tat artists) to give him the best price for a tattoo he drew out (about the size of a Marlboro 20’s box). After some haggling and the transaction completed, this guy and his girlfriend walked into the clean room to get cut. Now you would imagine that most of these bodybuilding types have the “No pain, No gain” mentality. Boy, is that presumption ever wrong. Simon only drew the first line of about 2cm and Mr. All America Wannabe lost his American accent. Not only that, he whined in a distinctly Indian accented English “ Why tattoo so pain-inggg?” (Note: Yes he did say ‘pain-ingg’. Obviously the pain-ing made him lose his grammar as well. Hilarious ain’t it?) Next thing Simon knows, he’s holding up a very unconscious bodybuilder. It doesn’t stop there. He is revived and Simon continues for another 4cm or so and the guy pees in his pants. He WETS himself. In front of his girlfriend and probably 5 or so other people in the room. I loved what his girlfriend did next. She smses all his and her friends to tell them about it. Talk about embarrassing. So it goes to prove that big, muscle-y, tough guys have their sensitive sides too. The tattoo was done only a third of the way when he said he has to rush off to get some errands done. He made an appointment to come back to finish it off. He has NOT come back and hasn’t picked up the calls from the parlour.With all the Hoo Haa because of a simple cartoon, hundreds have died because they have no sense of humour. That's religion for you. Soon 15000 atheists in London will riot after a blank sheet of paper was found on a cartoonist's desk

Emo

Well the new year is here. Finally. All the build up and hype and all I did on new year's eve was see fireworks and then back home to sleep. Quietest new year I ever had. I decided to reward myself this year (I was a pretty good boy last year) with a brand spanking new Canon Ixus 750. As predicted, I became a photo-slut over night. I became one of those people I hated (and to some extent, envied) who have tons of photos on their blogs, friendster accounts and a thousand other web-based thingamajigs that those young whipper-snappers have. Yes I am old. Un-officially I am in my fuddy duddy 30's this year but most of my friends refuse for me to admit it. Everyone doesn't want to be 30 and lies about their age and yet I cannot wait to be 30. Why is that? Maybe I have been in a rush to grow up, do all the people and things I want to do that it's become habit. It's been 20 days since I came back to Singapore and am hating every moment of it. I miss KL so much, it feels like I was born there in the first place. The only saving grace was when I managed to finish all the outstanding matters here and my best childhood friend popped back my way after spending something like 7 years in Melbourne. We had a blast, she got drunk and became ever more hyper. She's already on a constant sugar high, so add fermented wheat, hops and water and we have a receipe for total idiocy. For the both of us. The photo-slut in me went *click* *click* away. Then *delete* *delete*(i'm a perfectionist; a really anal perfectionist). We played scrabble, to which an interesting debate arose. I had the opportunity to spell emo and did not know if emo was accepted. To which she replied:' Of course not, emos are not accepted anywhere'. Yes she is my soul mate when it comes to twisted humour.

I would hire a porn star. They seem to be hard at work every time I see one. There seem to be an increase in crazy people in Singapore. Has the lifestyle and government policies finally taken hold? Was eating my burger when this tree hugging hippie woman was bothering some of the customers saying 'Do you know what they do to those poor annniiimmmaaalllssss!!!!'. I got pissed because she stank and was invading my private eating space. So I said ' Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to eat my puppy burger.' She then went to a corner to cry softly. I'm not a nice person. In fact I think I am the devil incarnate but I'm loving every moment of it. New debates have sprung up here. One I have to bring up is if a person is gay, is it because of genetics or environment or both? I say just leave it alone and let these people live their lives. But on a side note, if they WERE born gay, then when they were babies, did they ever try shoving the cylinder block through the star shaped hole? Also if I punched a CareBear in the face, would rainbows shoot out of its ass? And if it did, I would prefer it shot out sugar so I can have a plantation full of CareBears being punched in the face and my Smurf slaves to harvest it.

I think I am a sick sick man. No wait. I KNOW I'm a sick sick man. A sick old man.

Holiday Greetings

21/12/2005

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year people. I'll update this entry when I have finally done something really stupid and raging dickhead drunk over the holidays.

Stay tuned folks.

_________________________________________________________

Update: 23/12/2005

Apparently I didn't even have to wait for X'mas. Had a very interesting conversation with a friend last night. I was sober and he was drunk so guess who was the designated driver? Here are some of the gems I remembered:

1) Him: Man I wish my lawn was emo so it would cut itself

2) Him: I smoked weed through an apple before
Me: That's nothing until you have shot up heroin with a banana

3) Him: Hey, you ever combined two different words to form another word?
Me: Here's one. Seppukkake: Ritual suicide by Bukkake (if you don't know what that is, goggle it)

4) Him: (Grabs a bottle of Evian and takes a swig) Ahhhhhh, I love water. It's nature's fruit juice.
Me: ....... Fruit juice IS nature's fruit juice. Moron.

5) Him: Damn Europeans are all the same.
Me: Yeah they all have hearts of cheese, breathe underwater and are born with tails
Him: I thought those were replacement penises?

Yes. I don't have to be drunk to be incoherent.

Heave Ho

Loads of things have happened in the last month or so. I'm going to go retrospective for a moment. New blog from a friend of a friend. Really funny and she takes the piss out of everyone including herself. Now that's a person I can grow to like. (www.xanga.com/kinkybluefairy). Also a close friend of mine took a nice little spill off a ledge into the stairs 8 feet below. She got away with just a nasty bump on the head and a sore shoulder. Talk about lucky. Stayed up for more than 38 hours waiting for her to get discharged. Damn GH is a fugging death trap. Blood on the floors, another friend took another 'trip'. Into a sewage hole. Risk of infection was so high it was ridiculous. I mean I understand it being a government hospital and all but there should be at least a minimum standard of hygiene. After that, Solomon took matters into his own hands and blew his top at the third guy from the top of the hospital hierarchy. And man was he a condesending prick. I was tired, hungry and pissed and would have flipped like Solomon did but exhaustion firmly gripped my acerbic tongue and cold temper. After all that was said and done, we did the only Chinese thing a half Chinese like me could do. We all went to a 4D outlet and bought numbers. Of course we came close but in the end there was no cigar. Celyn, my little 'sister' came back from a trip to China. Actually it seemed more like she survived the holiday more than she had fun. Things are coming to a close and it seems things are looking brighter. I met someone who seems funny, smart, beautiful and atheletic all at the same time. The catch? Her Dad is a fencing instructor and he's built like a bull. Guess I better make pappy happy or i'm one dead duck. Cannot seem to shake this feeling of depression. Must be the lousy weather. Think I'll go get myself another tattoo in the pursuit of temporary bliss. On a side note, my boss sucks elephant balls and his wife is the Evil, Wicked Bitch of the North. I hope they have children with no assholes and she gets advanced syphilis. Someone save me from this hellhole. Blegh.

Gahhhhhhh

I'm sick... again. Damn weather is doing the Lambada on my immune system's arse. Ah well what can you do. Got my first tattoo a couple of weeks ago and DAMN IT'S SO FUCKING COOL. I actually am scheduling for my next one to be done before Christmas. That is if I fugging recover from this flu. KL is great but the stuff that people let fly around here is ridiculous. Flu, cold, weirdoes (the last one is a taken). Anyways I started watching all of the Star Wars series again. Nothing to do since I'm sicker than Michael Jackson in a boys only kindergarten.

Star Wars is cool and all but suddenly I consider: we have always thought of R2D2 as a light-hearted comic relief type of droid. With his tweets, chirps, raspberries, and whoops, how could he be anything other than cute? But what if people were misunderstanding what he is actually saying? What if he could be accurately translated? And what if he were saying things that weren’t cute at all? To wit:

(The scene where Luke and R2D2 are leaving Hoth in Luke’s x-wing)
Artoo: Hey, assclamp, where the hell are you hauling me?
Luke: There’s nothing wrong, Artoo, I’m just setting a new course.
Artoo: Oh, goodie. Are we going to see your dad? Cause you know he’s Darth Vader, right? I mean, you know that, otherwise you’re even more of a dumbass than I thought.
Luke: We’re not going to regroup with the others.
Artoo: That’s probably because they know what they’re doing, and you don’t.
Luke: We’re going to the Dagobah system.
Artoo: The Bagadouche system? What an appropriate destination for a douchebag such as yourself. Are you sure you don’t want me to fly? Cause I’ll bet you’re going to crash us into some godforsaken swampy bog, you mindless pube.

(Later on in Cloud City, during the escape scene)
3PO: Artoo! Where have you been?
Artoo: Listen, you bronzed dildo, I’ve been dicking around in a frigging swamp for the better part of two weeks while some wannabe wizard has been taking advice from an ancient lizard. I got slime in my droid genitals, a bad yeast infection, and I’m not in the mood for your prissy shit, so put a metal cork in it, buttnozzle.
3PO: Well at least you’re still in one piece, look what happened to me!
Artoo: Yeah yeah yeah, you got blasted to shit, they should have left your ass in that scrap heap. You have contributed absolutely nothing useful to this point. By the way, how is it that you’re even more of a whiny bitch than you were in the first three movies? I thought they wiped your frigging memory.
Do they have some sort of universal “BitchBot” app that they keep putting in your lame ass? Bitch.
(while trying to unlock the landing platform door)
3PO: Artoo, you can tell the computer to override the security system!
Artoo: Oh, thanks for reminding me, you pretentious fuckstick. Do you know what else I can do? I can FRIGGING FLY! George Lucas said so! But that didn’t stop me from falling into an effing swamp on that Bagadouche planet. By the way, did you know that Darth Vader is Luke’s father? Cause I DO! Oh, look, I got fried by a goddamn computer terminal. Thanks, dickweed.
3PO: Don’t blame me. I'm an interpreter. I'm not supposed to know a power socket from a computer terminal.
Artoo: You’re supposed to know your droid ass from a hole in the ground, but you don’t. Jesus, I should have left your sorry ass on that ship, you sphincter. Just wait till I get to use my little welding thingy on your droid scrote. I hate you and all these miserable bastards. Where’s my Oscar?

FIN

Bitch, whine, sook, complain

So it has come to this. It was inevitable that one of my posts will broach my favourite subject and greatest peeve; the Singapore Government (or as most Singaporeans pronounce it ‘gahmen’). I was having a drink with some friends in KL and they were bitching about the ineffectiveness and corruption of their federal government to which I replied ‘You guys got it good’. Obviously, the brainwashing and propaganda of our illustrious Lee dictatorship has extended to our neighbours. 40 years of separation and most Malaysians still think Singapore is the land paved with gold. Before I do go on, this would probably get me arrested (as many fans of bloggers would know about the recent case) or have our dear Uncle Harry Lee place a persona non grata (his favourite phrase by the way) on my poor little head. But hell with it, I’ve never been one known for intelligence on these matters and my ego is, as of the time of writing is issuing checks my body cannot pay out.

I started on the more recent happenings. The opening of the casino despite strong anti- sentiments on the matter by the general populace, the ban on smoking in coffee shops and places of night time entertainment. The irony of the whole thing is that the government is willing to forego the lesser evil for a greater one (i.e. making it hard to smoke while making it easier for gamblers to lose their money). True that gambling is a choice we all make, just like smoking but with smoking, in most times, just kills yourself, while gambling has a potential of taking out entire families (guy owes money due to gambling, kills himself and his entire family to escape from payment). Also since smoking is such a huge issue, why not just ban it completely? Because the government makes money from the taxes on cigarettes. Talk about hypocrisy.

Then comes the next big con. CPF! We got to put in 20% of all we make into that government piggy bank. You cannot take everything out even when you are the stipulated retired age of 65. They pay you in instalments. Fuck that. It’s my money. It’s bad enough you hold it for most of my adult life but you pay me in fucking instalments? I want to fucking blow it all when I’m 65. With my lifestyle, I’d only and very possibly live only another year after 65. And if you cannot survive with the instalments, the government asks you to go work at bloody MacDonald’s of all places. Another large con would be the HDB projects, which started out with good intentions but now is the biggest money making scheme ever. Fucking 350 grand for a hole in a wall that is mass-produced anyway with cheap ass materials? Janet Jackson’s ‘What have you done for me lately’ should be our new national anthem. MNCs coming into Singapore to make our money, retrench our workers by the thousands and what does the government do? They do not tell the MNCs off, oh no, god forbid that. Instead they kiss their asses, apologise for our deficiencies and ask us to go for re-training. Fucking hell. Yes, yes many would say we are a clean and safe city with great infrastructure and very strong protective measures on foreign investments etc etc etc. That still does not help put food on the table.

What kind of country would you think it is if we had a courtesy campaign to teach our own people common politeness that should have been taught anyways by our parents and role models? Year after year? Since it’s independence? Truly it says we are absolutely lacking culturally, socially and spiritually. All our best talents and smartest minds have had their spirits broken, mashed and pureed to serve as automatons for our slave-driving, whip carrying, devil worshipping masters (and if you go high enough on the ladder, it’s just one octogenarian master who will still be alive long after I’m dead).

That shut them up good.

Okay Mr. Lee, I’m ready for your secret KGB, CIA, MIB-type Gestapo to arrest me now. Do I get one phone call? Stupid question. Of course not. We aren’t a fucking democracy.

Love you long time..

Ooook now. It's been a while since I posted anything. Not that I do not have anything to post. I've just been having too much fun but due to popular demand (from one fan, and yes my blog has ONE fan. Woo Hoo break out the Cristal, party popping thingys and bar top dancing trannies!) I have decided to take whatever spare time for sleep to write this so you people (or person in this case) better appreciate it. I know I use a lot of brackets. It's unfortunate because my thoughts are always skewed, disjointed, off the cuff and generally very confusing. Therefore, due to the unnerving nature of my cerebral ramblings, I need to insert whatever thoughts that come to me.

New discovery. Get your hands on Russell Peters, the Canadian-born Indian (the South Asian type, not the feather wearing, reservation dwelling type) is a very very funny stand up. Next to Robin Williams and Eddie Murphy (in their drug addled, sex fuelled 20s, not the Disney-instructed, Doctor DoLittle, Mrs Doubtfire 50s), this guy is probably the next big thing in comedy. It's about time we got ourselves an Asian stand up.

Oh and in starting my laptop up today, I got this message :' Keyboard Failure, Please Press F1'. Obviously the people in Microsoft have more pressing problems than my keyboard.

France seems to have given the green light to house the new nuclear fusion reactor. If it works ,then the world will have the opportunity to get their hands on cheap long term energy, and if it fails, the world loses France. It's win-win really. Technology is so amazing nowadays. Japan just produced the fastest shutter speed for a commercially available camera in the world and my first thought was :'Finally, a camera fast enough to capture a picture of a woman with her mouth shut'.

By now you would think that this post is about one liners. I mean come on, have I ever taken a post and go :'Fuck fuck shit shit pussy asshole joke joke cocksucker motherfucker, thank you very much for reading, good night, I'll be here till Thursday and try the veal.'?

Well, actually yes.

I'm not fucking ok, I promise

Just got myself a couple of fantastic books. Kitchen Confidential (Anthony Bourdain) and Aphrodite (Isabel Allende). Both great cooks in their own right. The former about the things that go on in the kitchens of the world (do not order fish on Mondays and hollandaise sauce is a breeding ground for organ liquifying bateria) and the latter on food and love (something I already discovered in the early periods of my life but this still blew my mind). There is a common thread between these two writers (other than food) and that is there came a point in their lives where they experienced an epiphany, the period of absolute clarity on what they want to do with their lives and that makes me bloody jealous. At age 22, unhappily in love with myself, I entered university, still a thoroughly undisciplined young man, treating the world as my ashtray, spending most of my waking hours drinking, smoking, scheming, flunking, and doing my best to amuse, outrage, impress and penetrate anyone silly enough to find me interesting. I was, to be frank, a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, badly in need of a good ass-kicking. Sadly, 7 years later, I have not departed far from what I was back then. I'm still the same callous bastard, euphimistical gentleman, negrophile, goth wannabe, chain-smoking bum, only now I have more money, dress better, am now brutally honest (lying is tiring and self defeating), vocally expressive (read: loud when drunk), connoisseur of food and my taste in grape and grain fermented beverages are progressively more expensive (appeals to the show-off that I am). I hate not having that clarity, the epiphany, the sudden revelation of what I want to do with my life.

Then on my way back from KL yesterday, it happened. Realisation hit me. Maybe I do not need it. Because I will not change who I am, and I intend to sin again and again. "Why?" you may ask. Simple. Because I have friends and family I love dearly and I would die for them if called upon. Because they will do the same for me. People who love me in spite of who I am. People who would give me anything that I ask for. People who love me as intensely as I love them. Because I live life like there is no tomorrow. Because I laugh more often than I cry, gained the respect of people who matter to me, have the affection of children, earned the appreciation of my greatest critics (myself included), endured the betrayal of false friends and become stronger for it, and finally will leave this world a better place because of the things I have done. Shit, I can actually die happy. So who cares what house, what car, what wife, what important political connections, whose ass I kiss and who kisses mine. Because, truly, I really do not give a shit about all that. The etheral, the intangible, the things that really matter, all that I already have. I chose life. I chose the journey rather than the destination. I chose to smell the freshly roasted coffee and cholesterol laden scrambled eggs and bacon over tofu shakes and organic vegetables. I chose to walk in the rain rather than to run from it. I chose to love and love freely than to succumb to the faux dance that people think is love. I chose to shoot my mouth off to the asshole who dared to even suggest any of my friends were less than perfect. I chose and so can you. Why? Because it is all that matters.

I now have my epiphany, my period of absolute clarity, my nirvana and if you cannot take it, fuck you. And yes I love you too.

Most evil drinking game ever devised, hilarity ensues

I spent an extremely lovely weekend up in Kuala Lumpur. Other than the fact that the hotel I stayed in sucked elephant balls, the haze (thank you so much Indonesia) and finally, last but not least, experienced the most evil (some might say its the most fun but I have never been one for suicide by atrophied liver) drinking game ever devised.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. My good friend Myra, who returned from Paris on Thursday after a month of leading an idyllic life (lucky bitch), left the very next day with me to KL. Little did we know what we would be getting ourselves into later that night in a cosy bar in the middle of nowhere. Jump to 10pm that same night at the bar, my best bud, Solomon suggested we play a drinking card game. For the 4 and one half years I've known him, the impish glint in his eyes are what I always look out for whenever he makes suggestions of this nature. Unfortunately, either feeling like a sucker for punishment or I was just plain dumb (I will argue that, with hindsight, I was not dumb, I was downright retarded), I readily agreed to the suggestion as did the other 8 people who went with us. The rules of the card game are as follows:

1) Each person will pick any card from the deck in turn, clockwise.
2) Ace, two and three would mean the person on your left will drink
3) Four, five and six would mean the person on your right will drink
4) Seven allows you to say Fuck You at any time, to which everyone has to say it. Last person to say it drinks
5) Eight is the same as Seven except you say You Fuck
6) Nine is the toilet card (self-explanatory)
7) Ten is the thumb card. The person with this card will put his thumb on the table (done discreetly so you have to be really aware of your surroundings) and like seven and eight, last person to do it drinks.
8) Jack you drink half of the glass
9) Queen you drink it all
10) King you get to steal someone else's card (the toilet card is ergo the most coveted) OR you state an action that has to be done in a specified number of rounds (this will be made clearer later).
11) You cannot cuss at all. No not one bit. Not even saying fudge, fish, frimminy frammy, or any word that has even the slightest connotation to cursing, swearing, body parts, animal sodomy, nercophilia. NOTHING! or you drink it all.
12) You cannot say drink in any language (yes my friends are a multi-lingual bunch). The replacement word for that is consume.
13) The game does not stop. No, not even when you are puking your lunch onto the table. Not even if you pee in your pants (if you do not have the toilet card). Not even if the fucking bar is on fire. You do NOT move period.

13 rules from hell. I swear somewhere in the world, Satan choked on his hellspit, God shit himself laughing and Machiavelli rolled over in his grave when the last word was uttered. Just to give you an idea of the uses and possibilities of the King card, use your left hand's index finger to touch your right nostril and the same left elbow cannot leave your right knee. Try drinking like that. That was mundane and safe. Add the fact that you have to talk continually through 5 rounds, in repeating sentences (i.e. How How Are Are You You.) and you cannot laugh. Throw in the very real fact that my friends are habitual swearing mammals (right off the bat, someone said fuck when the rules were completely explained and we did not even pick a card yet, CONSUME!!!) we had ourselves a goldmine of Men and Women Behaving Badly.

Sufficed to say, none of us were very sober or standing when we drove home at 4 in the morning (kids, Do Not Drink And Drive, we are professional idiots, you aren't by a long shot).

Fortunately, there was an intermission when this really skanky chick who was having her birthday that same night and place offered to buy me a drink. As you can remember, I was retarded that night, and with a good amount of Black Label in me (bless you Johnny Walker), decided to be nice and take up the challenge (she dared me to a cocktail that she said would put me down like the dirty dog that I am in ten minutes or something like that. I could be wrong about the dirty dog part). As you all know, do not challenge me in anything if you cannot take the consequences, either brought on by me or otherwise. Turns out that it was a pissy drink that had Grand Mariner, Brandy, Lime juice and Grenedine cordial. Half an hour later I was still up and drinking more while she went off to puke. She came back and tried to get me to do a striptease. Her breath could have sterilzed a porn star from a mile away so obviously I was put off. I'm sorry Gigi, Mimi, Fifi or whatever your name is, if you are reading this, I would not touch you with a gonorrhea infected baboon's phallus.

All in all a very good trip. Other than the fact that I stayed in a shitty hotel, the air was bad and experienced the most evil drinking game ever devised.

Cough cough hack hack

It's finally happened. Something I never thought would happen to me, well, did happen. I got bloody bronchitis. All those years of smoking and being in smoke filled places caught up with me. I am now as of this moment gagging and coughing. Interesting to see the myriad types of phlegm I can cough up. Yellow, green, brown, red (blood, I'm fucking PMSing from my mouth). Of course, me being ME decided to let the situation resolve itself (meaning I couldn't be arsed to see a doctor and pay 75 bucks). Then I had a call up from my reservist unit, which is at the other end of this godforsaken island, so I decided to get a medical certificate to get out of it. An hour and thirty five minutes later (it only took him 5 minutes to diagnose me) and 75 dollars poorer, I discover that, surprise surprise, I have bronchitis. So with a handful of legalised drugs and an MC, I decided to make full use of it. Damned if I was paying 75 bucks and not enjoy every minute of it.

Now vantolin as you know is mainly prescribed to asthmatics to enlarge the air ways, facilitating an influx of oxygen into the system. It also increases blood flow by forcing your heart to beat harder. I was warned (several times) however not to consume any caffeine for at least 2 hours after consuming the vantolin pills. At that point in time, I silently said "Reeeeeaaaaalllllyyyyy". For those who do not know me, warnings like these, I tend to do the opposite. Tell me not to do it because it could cause me to

1) lose my limbs
2) lose my life
3) probably get arrested if caught
4) be disowned by my parents
5) be osctrised a lot more than I already am
6) possibly have an experience which I will regret for the rest of my life

I will have to do it.

Although my memory is still a little hazy from yesterday, I decided to write whatever happened to me on a notebook. It is as follows:

4 Vantolin pills, crushed (you are supposed to take one every 6 hours)
1 standard can of Coca Cola
2 spoons of Nescafe coffee powder

Crushed pills went down with the whole can of Coke. The coffee went down with a sip of water. Watched Spongebob Squarepants - The Movie (I love crass humour). Broke out in a sweat. Could hear my heart pounding away in retaliation to the little stunt I pulled. Try to walk it off by going outside. Had a cigarette. Kept walking. Walked to Orchard Road. My mind has never been clearer. I feel like I can take on Everest. Headache sets in due to increased bloodflow. Feel like smashing something. Went home. Rough housed with my dog who ran off after 3 minutes. Guess Snoopy is a big pussy eh. Listened to Linkin Park. Made me want to smash something even more. Popped panadol to ease the headache. Had another Coke. I'm really buzzing at this point. Fucking stop drilling the stupid road, oh wait its just my head. Should I take more Vantolin? Wait the cough med is supposed to make me drowsy. I wonder.... 3 tablespoons huh. Yeah right. Swigged half the bottle. Oh fuck I think I'm going to puke.

At that point in time I was already dry retching really badly. So I took the entire 3 litre bottle of water from the fridge and drank everything so that I have something to puke. It just made me pee a lot. I fell asleep at about 8pm (according to sources) and didn't wake till 1pm this afternoon. I feel like someone tried to kill me and beat me with my own corpse and when that failed, ran a car over my head 75 times. Kids do not try this at home. Ohhhh look, its time for my meds again.

Star Wars Geek

Before you continue reading, I just want to state the fact that I do love StarWars. It was the first movie I ever caught in my life and I have loads of nostalgic moments of that era (circa 1978 to 1982). With that said, I just want to ask, what the fuck does those self proclaimed StarWars fans are thinking? I mean its one thing to want to be the first to catch the movie and therefore booking the tickets for the movie a couple of weeks beforehand but its another thing to turn up dressed like the movie and crapping up George Lucas' table scraps with their damned FX lightsabers (yes I bought one) all way through the movie and talking about what was going to come up next scene etc etc etc. I could go on all day. Obviously those uber dorks, being who they are, must have downloaded the screener, watched it a couple of weeks before the release (and several times I must add) then decided to be pain in the asses for us people who live in reality. It was 'Revenge of the Nerds" all over again.

I mean seriously, some of them were grown men in their 30's dressed like Jedis. Obviously they look like they have not had sex with anyone or anything in their entire lives,and no, not even with a Catholic priest. Maybe in their rooms (yes they still live with their mothers).

I've said my peace and I need to get to a hot date.

This time I really have seen everything

I know that there are so many movie titles that have been spoofed one way or another. The most inventive and, might I say, hilarious ones are the porn titles. Some like Edward Penishands, Shaving Ryan Privates are as funny as midget porn. This, being a Star Wars fan (yeah I'm an uber geek), takes the cake: http://www.ifilm.com/ifilmdetail/266393

Talking about midget porn, I've always wondered if it is possible to orgasm while laughing. Although I did have an ex that giggled herself silly when she did (which has scarred my psyche as you all can tell), I do not think that is possible for a man. Of course I could be wrong, so if anyone is willing to take up my offer, please send any information or proof that it IS possible to do that. I figure it would be painful, like getting jizzed in the eye or snorting Pepsi through the nose or something like that.

Yes I am very bored.

If it does happen, I want it this way.

Now I was reading some trashy magazine (I don't know which) while waiting in line at the doctor's about how some stars are such prima donnas. It got me wondering, what if I was some hot asian rap star ( I know there is already one in the US, and yes I only do English, not Korean or Japanese etc.), what would I be asking for in any of my gigs. Bored as I was, I came up with this list:

- Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson tied up, gagged and wearing skimpy white leather nurse uniforms

- Bologna slices covered with mustard and ketchup to throw at Mrs. Federline and Mrs. Lachey

- An obscenely high James Brown as my public relations manager

- Five personal masseuses, all hot and Asian

- Jamie Oliver as my personal chef

- P. Diddy's barber

- The Taco Bell chihuahua as my mascot

- Jurassic 5, The Roots, A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Kanye West, Mos Def, Gang Starr, Common and Jay-Z to provide my walking theme music

- Huge crawl-foot tub

- Supersize hot tub

- A case of Mr. Bubble

- Jello wrestling ring

- Slip N Slide

- 50 midgets

- Every woman from the Maxim Hot 100 as eye candy

- Tyra Banks as my personal assistant

- A case of condoms

- A vat of Astroglide

- Jennifer Lopez's ass as my drink and smoke holder

- Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Dave Chappelle, Ed Norton and Will Farrell to act as my uncles

- Directors Wes Anderson, Noah Baumbach, Spike Lee, Kevin Smith, P.T. Anderson, Brian DePalma, Whit Stillman, Doug Liman, Ted Demme (back from the dead), Alexander Payne and Marty Scorsese to talk movies

- Fifty cartons of Marlboro Lights

- Twenty cases each of the following beers: Old Style, Stella Artois, Yuengling Lager, Khalik, Fat Tire, Boddingtons, Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout and Negro Modella

- Dozen cases each of the following hard booze: Grey Goose, Effen Black Cherry vodka, Jager, Johnny Walker Blue, McCallum 18, Knob Creek, Makers Mark and Jameson

- Dozen cases Cristal

- Dozen cases of Red Bull

- Dozen cases of club soda

- 69 large Italian hoagies

- 69 deep dish pizzas, assorted toppings

- 69 orders of hot wings

- 69 assorted specialty sausages

- 69 orders of chilli cheese fries

- 69 carne asada burritos

- 90" plasma screen TV with DVD and VCR with the following movies: Goodfellas, Kicking And Screaming (The Noah Baumbach film. You have no idea how pissed I am that I have to qualify this now.), Beautiful Girls, 25th Hour, Swingers, Bottle Rocket, Scarface, Best In Show, Waiting For Guffman, This Is Spinal Tap, Raging Bull, Reservoir Dogs, Boiler Room, A Bronx Tale, Donnie Brasco, The Godfather Part I,II, and III, Scent Of A Woman, State And Main, Taxi Driver, Go, The Tao Of Steve, Office Space, The Big Lebowski, Hurlyburly, The Virgin Suicides, Talk To Her, Mystic River, Boondock Saints, Sideways, The Royal Tennenbaums, Rushmore, Clerks, Mallrats, Rounders, The Hustler, Blow, Old School, Fight Club, American Beauty, American History X, High Fidelity, Better Off Dead, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Boogie Nights, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, A Christmas Story

- Every episode of the following shows on DVD: Family Guy, Law & Order, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Sopranos, The Simpsons, The Office (BBC version), Sex In The City, Reno 911!, Chappelle's Show, The State, Six Feet Under, Deadwood, Entourage, South Park, Real Time With Bill Maher, Da Ali G Show, Carnivale, Iron Chef, Iron Chef America, East Meets West, Good Eats, Food 911, The Wonder Years, Miami Vice, Arrested Development, The O.C., The Daily Show, Pimp My Ride, Pardon The Interruption, World Series Of Poker, High School Reunion III

What??

When someone like me has too much time on his hands (among other things), I tend to ... how shall I put it... go slowly insane. Ergo this fasinating story I came up with in the WC this morning for my morning movements while I was brushing my teeth. (Yes I do multi-task and I read the papers in the crapper)

Enjoy!

"One day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up for a fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. A deaf policeman heard the noise and came to shoot the two dead boys. If you dont believe this lie is true, ask the blind man he saw it too"

Funny Shyte Literally

(A) would be a friend and (Me) would obviously be me, the loud, berlligerent yet ruggedly handsome raging dickhead.

(A) You don't know jack shit!

(Me) That's not true, I know him well

(A) Haha

(Me) No, seriously. Jack is the son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt Inc. They had one son, Jack. In turn Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt, the deeply religious couple produced 6 children Holie Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins: Deap Schitt and Dip Schitt. Against her parents' objections, Deap Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school drop out.

However, after being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later remarried Ted Sherlock and, because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name.She was then known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a son of nervous disposition, Chicken Schitt.

Two other of the 6 children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens wedding. The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Hoarse.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.

So there.

(A) .......... shit..... owned......

I'll go to hell for this but its worth it.

Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot his whole life, which created an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him frail, and with his odd diet, he suffered from very bad breath. This made him a super-callused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis. And yes I will go to hell for writing this but it was worth it.