------- waddafak: 01/29/2006 - 02/05/2006

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Dog Chibeh

I just got off the phone this evening with a very old friend. We have not seen each other for at least 10 years as we have been moving in different circles and countries. Having not spoken to each other for at least half of those years still has not diminished our fond memories for each other.

This reminds me of an incident when we were kids. He came to my house one evening after dinner. I heard him calling from the outside gate. Going out I thought I must have been dreaming. There was no sign of him. Then I saw his bike. It was lying down by the side of the entrance at the gate front, right next to the drain.

I was thinking to myself, ' Must be that bugger was thinking he was going to scare me again by hiding behind the bamboo fence ready to jump out and scare the shits out of me'. I walked cautiously to the gate. I peeked. There was no one. I opened the gate and walked to the side where his bike lay, maybe he was trapped in the bamboo bush because a stray one had plunged into his arse rendering him motionless and in extreme pain?

Instead he was lying across the drain. His torso and bottom half was still sitting in the drain, the stinky water covering over his groin. Lucky for him the drain was made of earth but still it stank to the high heavens. I was afraid. He was not moving. His eyes were open. His mouth was also open.

Me – Ah Ken!
Ah Ken - *silence*
Me – Ah Ken!!!
Ah Ken – Aiyok
Me – Ah Kennnn!!!
Ah Ken – Chibeh-lah you… I dunno my name meh?
Me – Painful or not?
Ah Ken – Chibeh-lah you… ask stupid question
Me - *laughing*
Ah Ken – Aiyok
Me – Can get up or not you?
Ah Ken – Dunno-lah
Me – Why dunno? Just try-lah
Ah Ken – Choa chibehhh….. damn sakit-lah
Me – How come you fell in drain?
Ah Ken – I miss step mah. Put my foot down and there was nothing
Me - *laughing* Alamak… you mabuk or what?
Ah Ken – Dunno-lah. Help pull me up-lah
Me - *helpshimup*
Ah Ken – My mother sure kill me. I stink-lah
Me - *laughing*
Ah Ken – Chibeh-lah you laughing all the time
Me – You looked damn funny in the drain just now
Ah Ken – Funny your head arrr…
Me - *laughing*
Ah Ken – I go back now-lah
Me - *laughing*
Ah Ken – Chibeh-lah you laughing, laughing all the time
Me – Because now you also smell-lah. Wah! Damn bau-lah
Ah Ken – Ya. Smell like the kurap dog chibeh
Me – *howlinginlaughter*

Ah Ken made it back safely that night. The next day we met and had another good laugh. We told no one. Never. And until today we are very good friends.

Baby Powder

One of the ladies in my building had walked into my office and now the entire room smelled like baby powder. I don’t know if women think baby powder is one of the things that you use to make yourself more attractive? Because it is not! I immediately associated it with masking the smell of baby shit and worse of all the hugging and subsequent smothering of my face into the deep folds of wrinkly fleshly folds of my grandmother's armpits. Argh!!!

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Sexy Tomboys

There are not many things which piss me off in life. One of them is the idiotic/moronic/careless statements which everyday people make. Case is point was this afternoon, a leisure gathering at a mates house where a chick said in response to another girl’s attempt to a back flip in the living room, “Aiyahhh… so tomboy-lah she...”. The thought that she acted nor bore any resemblance to a tomboy never passed my mind. I found her pretty hot in fact.

A search on wikipedia says that the word tomboy first appeared as a 16th century term describing a rude and boisterous young man. Over time it changed gender, was later defined as a female strumpet or a rowdy girl, and by the late 19th century it acquired its modern meaning.


Tomboys are easy to identify, given a choice they will wear boy clothes and entertain themselves with boyish interests, climbing trees, getting into fights, burning the legs off ants with a magnifying glass, blowing up snails with firecrackers and other oh-so exciting pursuits. Tomboys are often good at sports. They have dirty knees. They are brave and adventurous. In short, tomboys are girls who transgress and resist the restrictions of feminine gender stereotypes, you know, the kind of social rules that demand girls to be sweet, charming, pretty, quiet, docile and rather dull. Theory suggests that tomboys occur in the family when girls lack sufficient female role models and over-identify with fathers, brothers and other male relatives. Others theories are that an abundance of testosterone in the womb leads to ‘tomboyishness’.

The truth is that nobody really knows why some girls simply prefer trousers, it's odd that it should be regarded as a problem, but there's no doubt that tomboys are part of the 'transgender spectrum'.Tomboy is to girl what sissy is to boy, (I dislike sissy’s big time) a red flag to anxious parents. Well, maybe not every parent, but the kind of Mummy’s and Daddy’s who worry that their little girl might not grow up to be happily, healthily, "correctly gendered," 100% heterosexual. They shouldn't stress about it as studies have shown that a tomboy is not necessarily a seedling lesbian (Phew, breathe out) and that it is often a phase that ends when tomboys get their special spark knocked out of them during adolescence.

This is a shame, really because I feel that being a tomboy helps girls develop assertiveness and self-reliance, and other skills that are useful in adulthood such as leadership ability, ambition competitiveness plus beating the crap out of men who mess with them. Unhappily, even when the odds are against them, some tomboys do become lesbians.

Tomboys are to me sexy and it's no surprise that girlish tomboys are a staple of Japanese manga cartoons. Tomboys are still easy to spot these days in Kuching despite the changing cultural attitudes about what constitutes appropriate gender roles for boys and girls. Areas that used to be cordoned-off to female gender are now open. One wonders if tomboys are or will die out, or whether new varieties, such as sk8ter girls, DJs and rock stars, will take root. Hopefully the tomboy will endure especially as, in my humble opinion, they still make the best lesbians. And some of them are really really hot!

PK Is Getting Old

PK is getting old. He not as quick on his feet from 9 years ago.

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Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Honour Thy Parents

Isn’t there an ancient saying in the Hindu tradition that unless we receive the blessing of our parents, we cannot progress on our spiritual path? This saying may conjure images of an elderly parent dressed in long flowing robes laying their hand upon their child and blessing their journey. Few of us will ever receive this type of blessing, yet there is much wisdom in that saying that applies to us today.

Rather than waiting for something to come from our parents, we receive their blessing when we come to an inner peace about why we were born to them and the lessons and gifts that come from that experience. To truly progress on our spiritual journey we must attain this inner peace about our mother and father. This peace will give us more motivation in our lives, allow our relationships with others to deepen, strengthen us as parents, enhance our career and bring more energy and health to our personal lives. Coming to this inner peace is not often easy, but is so worth the inner effort.

Some people have had difficult childhoods with parents that have behaved inappropriately. Some of us may have heard unbelievable stories of inappropriate behavior. There are Parents who have sexually, physically and emotionally abused their children. There are Parents who have abandoned them, never to be heard from again. One friend told me about his Father who once gave him a severe beating when he was a child and threatened to kill him if he tried again to interfere while he was beating up his Mother. These can be very traumatic experiences. How does one ever come to peace with a parent who could do such a thing to their child?

The peace doesn't come from condoning or accepting the behavior, nor does it come from hating the parent. The peace comes from understanding the spiritual lessons and gifts and that come from having a parent that behaved in such a way. Sometimes a person has to fully experience or even express their hate, anger and resentment in order to find this understanding. The ultimate goal, however, is to find the lesson and gift rather than to remain in the angry unforgiving place.


Some of us have grown up learning the Ten Commandments. I'm sure we have all heard, "Honor Thy Father and Mother." Does this mean to honor everything our father or mother does and listen to all their advice? I don't think so.

I feel that the deeper meaning is that we are to honor the soul essence of our Mother and Father, and the spiritual gift and lesson that is ours to learn by being their child. This is deep and worthwhile work on oneself. It is much easier to simply say my life is no good because my parents did such and such to me. Therefore I have an excuse to fail in relationship, career and life in general. Rather than this powerless victim approach, a more mature way of living is to learn the lesson from having been with our parents and then make that gift part of our strength and motivation as a person. In this way we are truly set free to become the person we want to be.

So there is no need to wait till Mother's Day or Father's Day when you are sending off that card or any other time. Try to understand the lessons and resulting spiritual gifts from having this person as your parent. Feel the ways your relationship with your Mother and Father have strengthened you and caused you to grow spiritually. In this way too don't you think we will be receiving the blessing of our Parents?

Suffering From Guilt

Hello, my name is ****** and i suffer from the guilt of NOT forwarding 50 million farking chain letters sent to me by people who actually believe them on a poor 5 year old girl in middle of nowhere with a breast on her forehead will be able to raise enough money to have it removed before her dirt poor parents sell her to a traveling freak show or the good luck fairy will bestow upon me my greatest wish but only if i resend it onto another 10 people within 10 minutes otherwise bad luck will follw me for the rest of my life? Give me a break.

Do you honestly believe Bill Gates is going to give you and everyone whom resends his email $1000 each?

Oh look here? If i resend this email and make a wish i will get laid by a supermodel the very next day?

Hey? maybe the evil chain letter dwafts will come to my house tonight and sodomise me in my sleep for not continuing a chain letter started by St. Peter in 69 AD?

If you are going to forward something, at least then send me something that is amusing however mild. I've seen all the usual chain letters asking for it to be sent to your closest 10 friends. To think of the poor excuse of a human being thinking they will somehow receive a single sen from some omniscient being?

Show a little intelligence. Think about what you are actually contributing by sending on these forwards? Chances are its our popularity? Heh.

The point is, if you get some chain letters thats threatens to leave you shagless or farking luckless the rest of your life just delete it. If its genuinely funny and worth of a good chuckle, send it on baby.

Dont piss me off by making me feel guilty about a toothless leper in Africa who has been tied to the arse of an ancient elephant for 27 years and whose ONLY salavation is going to be the 5 sen per letter he will receive if you forward the email?

Now, God Damnnit, forward this to EVERYONE you know. Or else tommorrow morning you will wake up to pain because your underwear has turned carnivorous and is consuming your genitals.

Tampons Are Fun

I have completely changed my stance on feminine hygiene products. When I was a young boy, my mother wanted me to understand that it was just cotton (Remember those huge Kotex sanitary napkins?) something I should not feel embarrassed about buying at the kedai for her. Somehow the shopkeeper always automatically wrapped it in his best old newpaper fully aware of the torment in shame lugging the huge damn pinkish box as I walked back home for her 'emergency'. But now I think they are really one of a kind damn interesting toys. All this I found out when we visited an old GF’s place this afternoon.

GF - *demandingvoice* "What did you do with them?"
Me - *becameallfidgety* What are you talking about?
GF - *sheknewiwasguilty* Don’t you action action ok?
Me - *laughingnevouslikeshit* What are you mumbling about?
GF – Just tell me-lah. I know you took them. Geli-lah me.
Me - Well I was taking a dump in your bathroom so I got bored.
GF - *crunchesforehead* Then?
Me – There was nothing to read, so I read your Tampon box!
GF - *scratchingforehead* You haa… Really-lah
Me – I was intrigued. So I opened it. Very Interesting.
GF – Then?
Me - So I opened one up and shot it like a cannon.
GF – Nothing better else to do?
Me - *ignoringherremark* It was fun so I did one more.
GF - Another one?!
Me - Yep! It goes quite far also huh?
GF - *lookingatmelikeiamanidiotfor30seconds*
Me – What?
GF - I am trying to picture you, sitting on my toilet.
Me - Uhuh
GF - Pants around your ankles.
Me - Uhuh
GF - *pausestakesabreath*
Me - Uhuh
GF - having distance-shooting contests with my tampons.
Me – But I didn’t waste them you know? *chuckles*
GF – What? You bringing it with you?
Me – Nope. Placed them in the sink to see how absorbent they are
GF – Argh!
Me – Do you know they look like little stingrays when open up?
GF - What the hell is wrong with you?
Me - What!
GF – So my tampons shoot really far-lah
Me – Yep!
GF - and look like a stingray
Me – Yep!
GF – What else again?
Me – Lucky you have friends like me. Test your tampons out.
GF – The why you look confused?
Me – I don’t know how to ask this but you not malu-kah?
GF – Malu about what?
Me – You use super tampons?
GF - So?
Me - Like you gross down there or what?
GF - *laughs*
Me – We guys will get pumped up if we used super magnum condoms
GF - *laughing* No-lah, every woman have different period flows
Me – *chuckles* and i thought it had to do with size
GF - *givesevillook* Ya-lah! End of Subject
Me – But…
GF – Shuddap
Me - But I want t...
GF - Shuddap and don't tell the others what you did ok?
Me - Why not?
GF - Just don't.
Me - *shrugs*

But then now she goes around telling her friends that I like using her bathroom and playing with her tampons. What can I say? Its true.

For The Good Guys

This is a tribute to you, the nice guy, the nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what arseholes guys are, all the while desperately trying to disprove the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy our female friends are at the appropriate moment, because we know most girls need that pillar of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concerns. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to of her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 20 urgent messages on our cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a idiot and a moron, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the much needed sleep you were having to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you bared with it for two hours. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “Oh, but we’re just friends Mah!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed, what I have learned from talking to friends and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “Oh, he’s too nice to date” or “He would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “He already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “No, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks.

Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom,. Seriously. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete arsehole now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. Thank God there are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as 'nice'. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile, for all the crazy, insane, bodoh things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude goes out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Cheers!

Ball Warmers

Many times have I been sitting back in a chair, in such a posture that my butt cheeks are scrunched together and the only way out for a fart is to go straight down and come out the very bottom of my butt cheeks, right where my nuts are resting. And if the fart is powerful, it tries to force its way past the nuts, which are quite painfully blown aside and involves a little tickling sensation as sometimes the hot air runs between the nuts and upper thighs. This really sucks. There are few things more pathetic than sitting around, farting, and having a good chuckle from your nuts being smacked around.

Thus I am concerned about the adverse effects of gas on my nuts and repercussions to my offspring. Sitting at my desk most days, I tend to sneak out a few here or there. Even though I do get up and *walk-off* the most offensive ones, I am frequently too busy to get up, and forced to stay put as the warmth lingers. Should I fear this strange warmth? You know, it's just a concern for us men and those people of the child bearing inclination type.

Most of us guys were probably born with a set of nuts. Now, the scrotum's function is to moderate the temperature of the testicles right? Our testicles are supposed to be a couple of degrees cooler than the rest of your body, not 98.6, but about 4 or 5 degrees cooler than that I think? That supposes to help the production and the health of our sperm. Now the way this is supposed to work is when your body gets cold, what happens is the scrotum contracts pulling your nuts closer to your body to make for maximum warmth. In a situation where you're not cold, where you're warm....let's say on a hot Saturday afternoon in a kopitiam because there's nothing else to do and you're bored out of your mind, so you're sitting there watching the world go by and it feels like your nuts are on the floor. Because it's so warm what happens is the scrotum let's them nuts out....let's it all hang out. It wants to try to cool them off.

So, we figured out the purpose of the scrotum. Now, what's gonna happen when you let out one of our "ball warmers"?, is that as our nuts (you know, saying that word always puts a smile on my face....some guy, hundreds of years ago, or maybe thousands....looked at his testicles and said, "You know, I think we should call these nuts." and from then on, everybody knows what you're talking about. If you say "nuts", they know what you're talking about......I don't know how that started). So the point is that the scrotum will take care of your nuts. When you lay a "ball warmer", or you're "roasting your nuts", or whatever you want to call it, what's going to happen is the scrotum's going to let loose, it's going to drop your balls a little bit, maybe down the pants of your leg....keeping them nice and cool. It shouldn't have any impact on our future kids you think?

But this is a good question for myself and I wanted to answer it appropriately so that I can feel more comfortable about the situation. The fact that the scrotum prevents these "ball warmers" from having reproductive implications, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't get up and walk off a good fart every once in a while. First of all, the exercise will do you damn good. Second of all, it helps "spread the wealth". Walk that fart around the office like it's on a leash. Stop in your boss’s office, stop by your office mates, say ‘Hello!’ to everybody just so to keep them on their toes....

Monday, January 30, 2006

Dying Like Cattle

I was on MIRC just now and for some reason, a discussion about holidaying in Bali turned ugly. It was so apparent that certain citizens of our planet had some moronic opinions all serving towards their obvious misunderstanding of the whole terrorism scenario and the reason why some Indonesians became ‘terrorists’. We all know Bali, like the September 11 attacks on America, did not happen just because someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided to become terrorists. They were like almost everything else, a byproduct of the past.

Have you ever heard the phrase ‘State Terrorism'? It is a taboo term. Our politicians never utter it. Never we hear it in our newspapers but it is by far the most menacing form of terrorism, for it can kill not 100, 1000, 10,000 but hundreds of thousands. In each shower of cluster bombs that fell on Iraq were countless Sari Clubs. The dropping of the atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima alone was the equivalent of the horror of September 11 10,000 times over.

Indonesia has been scarred by state terrorism for the past 4 decades. And the source of the worst violence is the Indonesian army, of which the West itself had supported and armed. Today, troops continue to terrorize the provinces of Aceh (well at least until the Tsunami) and West Papua, where American Exxon oil company's holdings and the Freeport mine is protected by them. In West Papua, the army openly supports an Islamic group, Lashkar Jihad, which is linked to al-Qaeda. This is the same army which the Australian government trained for decades and publicly defended.

On December 7th 1975, the violence that had brought Suharto to power was transferred to the Portuguese colony of East Timor. Suharto's troops invaded, and over the next 23 years more than 200,000 people (a third of the population) perished. During much of East Timor's bloody occupation, Suharto's biggest supplier of arms and military equipment was Britain. In one year, a billion pounds' worth of Export Credit Guarantee loans went to Indonesia so that Suharto could buy British Aerospace Hawk jets.

We know that US President Gerald Ford and US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger met with Suharto in Jakarta the day before the invasion of East Timor. Coincidence? By the time Indonesia's invasion of East Timor had commenced, Ford and Kissinger were already safely meeting with Marcos in Manila, spiritedly plotting how to recover from the humiliation suffered by the US that year, 1975 the year America fled from Saigon.

Then if some of you remember in 1999, East Timor finally had an opportunity to vote for independence and freedom. Despite being warned by Australia's intelligence agencies that the Indonesian army was setting up militias to terrorize the population, Howard and his foreign minister, Alexander Downer claimed they knew nothing. The massacres went ahead. Leaked documents have since revealed that they DID know. The government of John Howard betrayed them. Is he going to be tried for this ‘crime’? Nope.

This was only the latest in Australia's long complicity with state terrorism in Indonesia, which makes a mockery of the self- deluding declarations then that Australia had "lost its innocence" in Bali. Very few Australians are even aware that not far from their holiday hotels and bungalows in Bali are the mass graves with the remains of some of more than 80,000 people murdered in Bali (1965-66) with the connivance of the Australian government.

Recently-released files reveal that when the Indonesian tyrant General Suharto seized power in the 1960s, he did so with the secret backing of the American, British and Australian governments, which looked the other way and in fact actively encouraged the slaughter of more than half a million "communists". This was later described by the CIA as "one of the worst mass murders of the 20th Century". Margaret Thatcher, the Prime Minister of Britain called Suharto then "one of our very best and most valuable friends."

The then Australian Prime Minister, Harold Holt, jokingly said: "With 500,000 to a million communist sympathizers knocked off, I think it's safe to assume a reorientation has taken place." This remark accurately reflected the collaboration of the Australian foreign affairs and political establishment. The Australian embassy in Jakarta described the massacres as a "cleansing process". In Canberra, officials in the Prime Minister's department expressed support for "any measures to assist the Indonesian army cope with the internal situation".

Suharto's bloody rise might not have been successful if the USA had not secretly equipped his troops. A state-of-the-art field communications system (flown in at night by the US Air Force planes) had high frequencies that were linked directly to the CIA and the National Security Agency advising the then US President Johnson. This does not only mean that the highest levels of the US government was listening in to the murders live but in the American embassy, a senior official drew up an assassination list for Suharto, ticking off the names when each was murdered.

That bloodbath was the price of Indonesia becoming "a model pupil of the global economy” or so according to the World Bank. This was a green light for western corporations to exploit Indonesia's abundant natural resources. The Freeport Company got a mountain of copper and gold in the province of West Papua. An American and European consortium got the nickel. The giant Alcoa company got the biggest slice of Indonesia's bauxite. Other companies took the tropical forests of Sumatra and Kalimantan; and Suharto and his cronies got a cut that made them millionaires and billionaires many times over.

Today, Suharto has gone, but decades of foreign plunder have produced fault-lines right across Indonesian society. The "model pupil" of the global economy is more indebted than any country; and millions of Indonesians have descended into abject poverty. So it is HARDLY surprising there are resentments and tensions, and wide support for extreme religious groups.

What is likely is that the pressure that is exerted by America, Australia and Britain on the secular government in Jakarta to "crack down" on Islamicist groups. Hence in a mostly Islamic country, this will polarize communities. To some, this will seem a familiar game of the powerful nations. In the 1960s, the West backed the Islamicist groups when they thought Indonesia would "go communist". They were expendable. When Bush, Blair and Howard are next shedding their crocodile tears and grinding the language into a shitpot of fanciful terms and phrases about the "war on terror", those in Indonesia with long memories might be forgiven for thinking ‘Nothing has Changed’.

The great First World War poet Wilfred Owen, wrote a famous poem entitled 'Anthem for Doomed Youth' and there is a verse in there that can be used for those who perish in today's secret wars and terrorist actions.
‘What Passing Bells For Those Who Die As Cattle?’

You So Farny-lah

I was just starting to feel the effects of one too many screwdrivers. Man, nothing beats a lazy afternoon, the company of good friends and a couple of good stiff drinks. Afterall it was Chinese New Year and maybe I would get to brush up on my rusty hokkien but bugger, everyone was talking in English. Oh well.

My conversation with Nick stopped short in its tracks. From the front door came a shrill chorus of screams and consequent fit of giggles as Nick’s little sister was welcoming her girlfriends. Damn it. We stood up as the obligatory ‘Hello, Happy New Year’ handshakes/greetings/smiles went in full circle. This is getting a bit tiresome.

Settling back we resumed on with our conversation. We could hear the chatterings going on from those visitors. ‘E si lu eh hia eh peng ew si bor?’ ‘Ta lok lai a ang mo?’ ‘E si chi peng chor kang r si chor seng lee?’ ‘Lu masi kong you ai angmo eh boyflein si bor?’

Nick was trying to keep a straight face as we both listen in trying to not laugh. Leaning towards me he said ‘Dude if only they knew you spoke hokkien ‘ ‘Yeah’ I replied smiling as Nick grabs my glass and wanders off to make another screwdriver.

Nick’s sister comes over and says ‘My friend wants to know you’. Before I can even a blink the friend is already there taking over Nick’s seat. I swear she must have felt the leftover heat from Nick’s bum.

Cute Girl – Hello
Me – Hello
Cute Girl – My name is Ah Yen
Me – Good to know *likeigiveashit*
Cute Girl – Excuse me?
Me – You are excused
Cute Girl – I don’t understand
Me – Yes, it is a mystery
Cute Girl - *confusedlook*
Me - *feelinglikeanarse* Listen? I was just playing with you
Cute Girl - *giggles* You so farny-lah
Me – and you are amusing
Cute Girl – Where you from?
Me – Kuching
Cute Girl – Is it?
Nick – Dude, your drink
Me – Thanks mate. Cheers.
Nick – I will be in the kitchen if you need me *winks*
Me – Get your arse back here
Nick - *chuckling* No-lah. Don’t like disturbing love birds
Me - *chuckling* Piss off then
Cute Girl – Why you 2 laughing?
Me – It’s a private joke thingy
Cute Girl – Oh I see
Me – *enjoyssippingcoldscrewdriver*
Cute Girl – So how come you angmo?
Me – I think its something to do with my genes?
Cute Girl – Genes?
Me – Yes. Genes.
Cute Girl – So how come got angmo from Kuching?
Me – How come got Chinese from Kuching?
Cute Girl – I mean
Me – *feelinglikeanarseagain* I was raised in Kuching mostly
Cute Girl – Oh I see. Your parents angmo?
Me – Nope
Cute Girl – So your mother angmo?
Me – Nope
Cute Girl – You father is it?
Me – Nope
Cute Girl - *blurlook*
Me – *feelinglikestranglingher* It’s a long story
Cute Girl – Tell me lah.
Me – Believe me. It’s a very long story.
Cute Girl – So you working here or holiday?
Me – I am here and there. Never feel on holiday here.
Cute Girl – Why?
Me – Why what?
Cute Girl – Why you not feel holiday here?
Me – Because its my home town
Cute Girl – So where are you actually from? I never see you mar
Me – from Kuching
Cute Girl – I mean where exactly. Which country?
Me – Where what?
Cute Girl – I mean is. I mean is like you are American?
Me – Nope. I hold Malaysian passport
Cute Girl - *reallypuzzledlook* True Meh?
Me – Why? Got reason to bluff you?
Cute Girl – Cannot be.
Me – Up to you to decide if I am lying
Cute Girl – How long will you be here?
Me – At least for a few weeks
Cute Girl – Then?
Me – Then?
Cute Girl – Then where you go?
Me – Most probably to Indonesia
Cute Girl – Do what there?
Me – Got some work there to get done
Cute Girl – You work as what?
Me – My job? Find money
Cute Girl – I want job like yours *laughslikesodamnfunny*
Me - *smilespolitely*
Cute Girl – How long you go there?
Me – *shrugs* At least for a week. Maybe 2. Dunno yet
Cute Girl – *cheekysmile* Can I follow?
Me – Sure. As long as your promise to be my sex slave
Cute Girl - *breaksoutintoanotherfitoflaughter* You so farnylah
Me – You haven’t seen me when I am drunk and belly dance naked
Cute Girl – Are you drunk now?
Me – Hardly but I am a bit poofed
Cute Girl – Poofed?
Me – Yep. Tired. Too much drink, Little sleep past 2 nights
Cute Girl – Wah. Enjoy is it?
Nick – Dude, Desmond called
Me – What does the wanker want?
Nick – Wants us to go over and play bandak
Me - *perks* Yeah, been a while, why not?
Nick – I call him say we going over or you too busy now? *sostupidgrin*
Me – Piss off. Tell him we are on the way
Cute Girl – You going out is it?
Me – Yup. Sorry, I been busy with work and all and yes am going off
Cute Girl – Can I have your number?
Me – Nope
Cute Girl – Don’t like that-lah
Me – Nope
Cute Girl – I give you my number?
Me – Why? I don’t need 4D number
Cute Girl - *laughslikeitsthegreatestdamnjokeioftheday*
Me – You been drinking too much?
Cute Girl – You so farny-lah
Me – You definitely been drinking too much
Cute Girl – *givesulkylook* Give me your number-lah. Please?
Neil – Give her your number Dude
Me – What the fuck for?
Neil – No harm *smilingagainlikeanidiot*
Me - *takeswalletout* hands business card out to her
Cute Girl – Wah. Thank You. I give you my number?
Me – Never mind. You can sms to me ok?
Cute Girl – So you call me ok?
Me – Nope. You call me.
Cute Girl - *smilessweetly*
Me – Make sure you are in bed naked and horny when you call
Nick - *laughsandshakeshishead*
Cute Girl - *surprisedlook* You so farny-lah
Me – And call me late. I like phone sex
Cute Girl - *giggleslikeaschoolgirlsonheat*
Me - *shakeshandofcutegirl* Thanks for the chat
Cute Girl - *sweetsmile*
Neil – *atfrontdoor* Dude. Did you have to give her your card?
Me – So?
Neil - *adjusts his shoes* I mean even office number also?
Me – *walkingtowardscar* So?
Neil – I mean you not worried she call your office?
Me – So?
Neil – Cool-lah you Dude. She like damn syiok you.
Me – *openingcardoor* So?
Neil – I mean what if she like gila then stalks you?
Me – Not worried
Neil – Aisayman… true or not you so cool?
Me – Guarantee she will not call me
Neil – Why? You going to ignore her is it?
Me – Nope
Neil – Then how then when she call?
Me – She won’t
Neil – Damn-lah you so confident
Me – Why you so susah hati?
Neil - *pokingincarkey* How you know she won’t call?
Me – Because only God knows whose business card I gave her
Neil – What!? Whose card you give!?
Me – Fucked if I’d remember? Picked the first one from my wallet.
Neil - *burstsoutlaughing* You damn farny-lar *startscar*
Me – *wavesbacktocutegirlascarreverseout* Where did I hear that before?


Wad Da Fak!

You should have heared me cuss and swear. 16 straight consequtive attempts to register a title for this blogspot and nadda, zlich, zero. Not even one was available. Am i really become that uncreative?

Well, i'm back. Lets try this again. Cheers!
Streamyx Sucks