Star Wars Inspired Taglines

Just a short entry today. I’m off to Riverside Ciniplex to watch Revenge of the Sith in a few minutes time. Man I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait!
Yes, everytime Star Wars come around I turn into a geeky little nerd having an orgasm at the sight of Yoda.
Ok lah, its not that bad.
You know what’s bad?
Visualise this. Back when I was at Curtin University, I walked past the Physics student common room one day only to catch the sight of fat pimply kids with thick glasses playing chess whilst they listened to the Star Wars Theme Music playing over the radio.
Mannnn I was so traumatised! Nothing against nerds of course. I fully admit I’m a nerd myself. But that scene was nerdiness to the n-th degree plus one integrated over the range of negative infinity to positive infinity. I’m not making this up, and yes, it really was THAT bad!
A while ago I wrote about how sick I am of businesses jumping on the Star Wars bandwagon and coming up with all these boring competitions and “limited-edition” stupid gimmicks? Well, since I’m in Star Wars mood and all, I’ve helped the following businesses come up with taglines they can use to torture us further.
Remember, you saw it first on!
Beard Papa
ROTI BOY… I am your father!

Inspiration Alan Salon
The Force is strong with this one…

Khidmat Negara / National Service
For nights when you may need to perform HAN SOLO!

May the FLOSSS Be With You!

Lord Vader? (Yes, master?) RISEEEEEE!

Update: Just came back from the cinema. Without spoiling the movie for you, I can say that I felt very disturbed watching evil prevailing over good in this episode of Star Wars. Without a doubt this is the definitely best instalment of the series. You really have to watch the earlier episodes of Star Wars to fully appreciate it.
Some notable things that happened at the cinema:
– I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to bring in outside drinks. An attendant stopped me and said “Ini tidak boleh masuk”. But then I waved my right hand at him using my Jedi mind trick and replied “Boleh lah!” Surprisingly it worked.
– A group of three backpacking British youngsters sat to my right. One of them have very bad body odour emitting from his armpits. And he wore singlets. I sat beside him for the whole 2.5 hours of the movie. I almost activated my light sabre.
– Irritated by Yoda’s way of talking, I am. Bad English grammar, he has. Tuition, he needs. Backwards all the time, his words are. If Yoda has an email address, com.starwars@yoda it would be.
– I got annoyed very quickly by the amount of scenes involving ‘Jedi hanging on the ledge’ after a battle. Try to count how many times that happened in the entire series. George Lucas must have gotten a blowjob or something each time he put that scene in his movies.
Other than that, definitely movie-of-the-year material.

My Name Is Not Guang Liang

I’ve been getting flattering comments on my blog lately. People have been saying very nice things to me.
This is from my earlier entry on the Guang Liang Kuching Showcase.

u r so nice…………..n………handsome!!!!!!!!!i love it:)

Commented by: spinky at May 9, 2005 02:34 PM

I lurvee eww…

Commented by: philicia at May 10, 2005 12:17 PM

u so kawaii……=P luvee…

Commented by: ruieee at May 10, 2005 12:22 PM

*Kenny flicks a tear off the corner of his eyes*

Everyone now, “Awwwwww…”
All my life people have been saying that I’m fat, I’m ugly, that I look like shit. When I asked my high school crush for a dance on our prom night, she said she rather dance with a tree.
All my life I’ve been made fun of because I got hairy legs. They bully me by doing things like pulling my leg hair when I’m not looking, then laugh at me as I grimace in pain. They didn’t know the pain on my leg is nothing compared to the pain I feel in my heart. 🙁 Then, they say things like “if I put an ant on your leg, how many days would it take for it to crawl out har?”

Me as Kim Cun
But that was the past, and thank god things have changed.
People have finally opened their eyes and realised that goddammit… Kenny is a Sex Bomb. Kenny is the most handsome creature EVER to hit this planet. LOOK AT ME! I’m so bloody KAWAII!

Xia Xuey
Then I continue reading the comments

tong hua……really very nice……hope u will in advance (HUH!??!)

Commented by: jean at April 29, 2005 03:37 PM

i likes u very much…
especially ur song tong hua….
ju xu jia you… (Awwwwww… I likes you too!)

Commented by: yid at May 10, 2005 12:21 PM

love the music video..kinda sad actually with the girl dying and all….ooh.ur in kuching now..izzit wanna say tat i love ur song tong hua..

Commented by: jamie at May 14, 2005 02:02 AM

Chao cheebye! Getting me confused with your favourite artist is one thing. But do you have to blast my hometown by saying that its BORING!?
Stupid people amuses me to no end. They enter “Guang Liang” into Google, click on a website, and then naturally expect it to be his personal website. Its ridiculous. I put an ‘About Me’ page on my site for a reason and one of the reasons is to deter stupid people like that. Obviously it didn’t work.
Lets give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that they DID click on my ‘About Me’ page and saw that sepia picture of myself striking a pose.
Now which part of me look like Guang Liang?!
Some people oughta grow a brain.
And I thought they meant it when they said I’m handsome and they love me and all that bullshit. All lies! 🙁
Now onto a totally unrelated note. Nominations are now open for the Project Petaling Street Annual Blog Awards 2005, and amazingly is nominated in all three categories. Thanks guys, I’m flattered. 🙂
*Be right back whilst I adjust my underwear. My balls just expanded.*
Although my reason writing this blog was never to win any awards, it does feel good knowing that your peers look up to you. Unlike other ubiquitous blog awards out there, the nominees and winners for these awards are decided by bloggers, for bloggers. That makes it slightly more credible.
I don’t know about you, but the Project Petaling Street Annual Blog Awards 2005 sounds like its got an Academy Awards-like flashy feel to it, complete with the red carpet, the bling-bling, and papparazzi flashing their cameras at you.
Too bad the “Petaling Street” in the name spoils it all.

Kimm and Mel

I often lament at the fact that I have a non-existent social life in Kuching.
The eight years I spent living abroad meant that I’ve lost contact with many of my old friends that I was once close to. Eventhough Friendster had helped me get back in touch with some, somehow it just wasn’t the same anymore. I regret not maintaining that friendship when I left for Perth. I regret not keeping in touch with my old friends as I gain new ones. If there’s anyone reading this who is about to go overseas, please do not end up like me.
When I was in Perth, the weekend meant hanging out at Moon Cafe with Jacky, Tiffy and others, or the occasional alcohol excursion to Mustang Bar with Dine and David. Now that I’m in Kuching, the weekend meant staying at home having an intellectual discussion with my bedroom wall.

The Mustang Bar – where the world turns 90 degrees to the left.

Which is why when I heard that Kimm is coming back to Kuching, I’m excited. Excited, not because I finally get to meet her. Excited because Kimm practically knows half of Kuching and hanging out with her means that my social life will easily be revived in no time. Yes she’s my stepping stone like that. 😉 jk, of course.
I’ve mentioned Kimm a couple of times in the past, usually as a subject of my practical jokes. I got to know her through Nicole about 4 years ago and we’ve been talking on and off. Actually ‘talking’ is the wrong word to use because most of the time we’re shooting arrows out of our mouths at each other. But no lah, she’s a nice person really – my long-time friend, short-time blogging buddy, and all-time ‘NUDGE’ function abuser on MSN. Man, I hate it when she nudges me on MSN.

I’m so boring Kimm fell asleep listening to me.

There’s never a dull moment when you have friends like Kimm and her sister Melissa around. Probably because they’re never short of whacky tales to share. Melissa for example, once shared with me this ridiculous but true story. Since she urged me to blog about it, I shall do so.
See, Melissa has (or rather, had) this rather showy friend of hers who one day, for absolutely no reason at all, made a bet with her. The bet was that Showy Friend would lose his weight in 6 months time and if not, he will buy a new phone for her. Melissa, figuring she had nothing to lose, nonchantlantly agreed with him.

Here’s a photo of Melissa and me… yeah, I WISH! My balls shrink when better-looking guys like that are around me. That’s Eric btw.

Fast forward six months later, Melissa got a call from this friend who not only did not lose weight, BUT GAINED WEIGHT INSTEAD. So Melissa asked for her phone. He hesitated. She requested a cheap model. HE SUGGESTED A MORE EXPENSIVE ONE. She requested the expensive model. HE COMPLAINED ITS TOO EXPENSIVE. What the foot?!
In the end, they decided to settle on cash. With his newly acquired credit card, Showy Friend withdrew a large sum of money from the ATM, counted RM700 loudly in front of Melissa and gave her the cash for her to buy herself a brand new Sony Ericsson.

Melissa: “Heh heh heh. Its mine… MINEEEEE!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!”

Man, I don’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of this story, or cry at the fact that stupid people like that exist on this planet.
Kimm wasn’t as fortunate as her sister though.
Kimm: “I’m so screwed. Barely two hours back in Kuching and I put a dent in the car. Funny thing is, I didn’t even drive it to bang it.”
Kenny: “Huh? What happened?”
“Well our gate remote control was broken and the gate would open and close for no reason. My dad asked me to put the remote control in the fridge but I didn’t. So when my dad drove the car in, the gate suddenly closed and kena our car.”
“HUH? Put the gate remote control in the fridge? What?”
“Yalah. ‘Cos the remote control go mad when its hot. Dad asked me to put it in the fridge.”
“WHA…!? And that’s supposed to fix it? Why don’t you put your Dad into the fridge instead?



Despite knowing the two sisters for so long, sometimes I struggle to understand them.
Melissa: “I need to renew my driver’s license.”
Kenny: “You got driver’s license meh?”
Kimm: “I also got driver’s license wat.”
Kenny: “Then how come you don’t drive?”
Kimm & Mel: “YOU ASK MY DAD LAH!”

GAMBs aka KENie aka ‘The other Kenny’ aka ‘The Smaller Kenny’… which means I’m the ‘The Bigger Kenny’. Go figure.

I don’t get it. Kimm and Mel are not the only people I know who own driving licenses but don’t drive at all.
Its a virus-like trend these days.
Kid turns 17. Parent urges kid to get a driver’s license. So, kid goes for driving lessons, kid does the theory test, kid passes all examinations, kid goes home happily with new driver’s license.
Then kid asks permission from parent to drive the car. Fat chance. PARENT BANS KID FROM DRIVING!
Fast forward to 2 years later, kid completely forgotten how to drive. The P-plate license is up for renewal. But guess what? PARENT ASKS KID TO RENEW THE DRIVING LICENSE!
In all seriousness, what the heck? Having a driver’s license but not allowed to drive, is like having an asshole but not allowed to shit.
Man, I don’t understand people these days.

Things I Can’t Stand About Star Wars

Revenge of the Sith, the final installment in the Star Wars ‘Hex-logy’, will be hitting cinemas worldwide on the 18th May and I simply cannot wait.
I won’t call myself a die-hard Star Wars fan who watched all the movies, read all the novels and played all the games, but I know there are strange people out there who live and breath Star Wars. Personally, I just happen to enjoy all the Star Wars movie released to date, especially its comprehensive and well-weaved storyline that cheekily mimicks historical events in real life.

I also got light sabre. No need to use hand one.

Apart from The Phantom Menace and its introduction of the very annoying Jar Jar Binks, the quality of production of all Star Wars movies is consistently high. In fact, the earlier episodes set a new benchmark in movie production at its time.
Perhaps the only complaint I have about Star Wars movies is George Lucas’ choice of actors. I mean, I have absolutely no complaints having Luke Skywalker played by an ang-moh, or having Jabba the Hutt played by Sammo Hung.
But goddammit, EVERYONE knows that Obiwan Kenobi should be Japanese, Qui-Gon Jinn should be a Chinese, and Padme Amidala from Planet Nabeh should be a bloody Indian! LOOK AT THEIR FUCKING NAMES GEORGE LUCAS!

Qui-Gon Jinn is a Chinese name and therefore I reckon he should be played by a Chinese actor instead

Apart from that, I’m just sick of being bombarded by opportunistic businesses selling products and organizing competitions that have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with Star Wars apart from bearing its name. Seriously, every single commercial entity out there is taking a slice off the Star Wars cake and shoving it down our throat.
The worst ones I’ve seen thus far are Celcom’s Star Wars recharge cards, Canon’s Star Words caption contest, JusTea and their Feel The Force contest (whatever that is), and RHB Bank selling their exclusive Star Wars Credit Card. Now why on EARTH (literally) do I need a Star Wars Credit Card for? The whole gimmick is getting ridiculous!
What next? Toilet papers with Jar Jar Binks’ face on it? Malaysia Airlines flying to Planet Nabeh? Limited Edition Light Sabre dildos for the ladies?

WAH! Even Darth Vader uses Canon computer printers!

Another thing I can’t stand is the radio stations promoting the new Star Wars movie. I always have a beef with Chinese radio station presenters not able to pronounce simple English words. In particular there’s this dimwit radio host working for Ai FM who can’t even announce the website address of his station properly. Its really wanita dot net slash radio5, but that idiot keep on pronouncing it wanita dot NEST slash radio5! Its a wonder he still kept his job after so long.
For a guy who pronounces ‘f’ as ‘p’, ‘z’ as ‘j’ and ‘th’ as ‘t’, I thought it is only a matter of time before the stupid radio host screw up and pronounce “Revenge of the Sith” as “Revenge of the SHIT instead.
But nooooooo, that idiot did even better than that. He called it Star Wars Episode III… Revenge of the SIKH!

I just hope they have subtitles to go with this one.

A Showcase of Readers’ Creativity

So I was working on trying to password protect my more personal entries since 12 midnight but I was too stupid to figure it out so I gave up I needed a little bit more time.
In the meantime, I have to censor myself when I write about my personal life. So here goes.
Nicole left yesterday. It’ll be a very long time before I get to see her again. Before she left, she suggested that we *censored*, so I bring her to *censored* and we *censored*. In the car, we *censored*. I gave her a *censored* and she gave me a *censored*. She was very happy. When we reached the airport, she *censored* me so I *censored* her back. It has been exhausting but I’m glad that she came (‘came’ as in ‘came to Kuching’. Not that other ‘came’). I can’t wait to see her again so we can *censored*.
Gee, censoring it kinda made it so much dirtier. I swear its more innocent than it looked!
Anyway, if you remember a few days ago I made use of my rusty programming skills and came up with a buggy lip-reading game THAT CANNOT ACCEPT QUOTATION MARKS. I’m sure I’m not the only person crazy enough to come up with silly ideas like that, so I handballed the job of filling in the captions to my readers, curious to see what whacky ideas they come up with.

gillianne’s Whisper period pads must be ultra absorbent.

Let’s just say I had some stomach-ache-incuding laughs along the way. 🙂 Heh. I asked you guys to cheer me up, and you sure did! Honestly I’m pleasantly surprised by the amount of silly humour displayed by you all. This could mean one of two things: (A) readers must be too damn boh-liao, or (B) readers are smart people with very important things to do, but reading miraculously transformed them into very boh-liao people.

N-KyoKun enjoys staring at the Queen’s bosoms

A special plug must go to blogger/photographer/songwriter Jasemaine Gan. Jase didn’t send me her contribution to this silly project.. 😉 She more high class so instead, she e-mailed me a song she composed! *gasp* Thank you so much Jase, your song definitely made me feel better and I’m very flattered.

Kher Ying is worried Prince Charles might not be able to ‘perform’ that fateful night

Jase’s piano piece was so amazingly well played I actually seeked out her other songs on her music site. Give her songs a try, you might like it.
Looking through the reader submission, I see that there’s no shortage of people making fun of Camilla’s hair.

Mr Brown thinks Camilla’s hairstylist ought to learn from a tip or two from Alan Salon

Then there were those who thinks Prince Charles might have married the wrong partner…

JiaYuan reckons Prince Charles is one bad mofo

… Or, while we’re in the midst of Star Wars festivity, that the Queen of England might be related to Princess Amidala of Planet Nabeh or something.

taste couldn’t wait for Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Shit

Here’s a showcase of readers’ amazing lip-reading abilities. Eat your heart out News of the World!

David Teoh can’t decide who is scarier.

wongpk thinks the Prince damn boh ka si.

BiLiS calls it The Revenge of The Queen.

Relaksman guesses that the Queen and Prince speak like Nelly and 50 cents.

Lee Chun Siong said all the right things about Camilla.

Michael Chew wants to be munched by Camilla.

Mun Kit is afraid of kutu (head lice).

xY thinks bird shit is good luck.

Kimmik’s cuckoo bird conspiracy.

Sinner’s Ark reckons the royal family knows that we’re lipreading them.

lotise suspects there might be other uses for the Queen’s gloves

GAMBs is never gonna get married after this.

neurotica can’t wait for lickylicky.

Justina secretly works for Head and Shoulders

BingBing finds more uses for superglue

karsoon continues the fart jokes

taste thinks dirty

taste has a fetish for the Queen

weichung theorises that the royal family must be from Malaysia

Sashi knows pimping ain’t easy

e knows what underwear the Queen was wearing.

Think you can do better? Try it here.

My Fear Of Blogging

Excerpt from 5th May 2005 titled ‘The Last 25 Hours’.

To my Kuching readers – I understand that my privacy may be compromised following my father’s passing. As always, I ask that you respect my privacy.
Please do not disclose any unnecessary information about my family or my job.
Please do not disclose the existence of this blog to anyone else in Kuching.
Most importantly, do not mention to any of my family members what you read here. Please, leave them out of it.

As odd as it sounds, I rather as little people in Kuching know about my blog as possible, because I know Kuching is a small place and I know how hurtful mindless gossips can be. I enjoy writing. I’m sure many, including you, enjoy reading. Please do not be a bad sport and spoil it for us all.

And just when I thought I can write light-heartedly again, here’s another serious post.
I’m sure the part about me not wanting my family members to know about caught many people’s attention. Why do I not want my family members to know about my blog? Am I doing something wrong? Am I ashamed of what I write? Why hide?
Of course I’m not ashamed of what I write. In between a couple of serious entries, most of what I’ve written here are light-hearted fun and humourous in nature. Sure, a lot of my jokes are crude, sexual and dirty. Sure, I used a lot of self-depreciating humour. But that’s exactly what I’m like. I’m serious when I need to be serious, and I’m playful all other times.
Of course I write about my personal life from time to time. I document important events in my life on my website so I can reminiscent what it feels like then when I read back in 5 years time. My personal life inevitably involves those close to me, namely my family, Nicole and my friends. I virtually cannot write anything without mentioning them.
no more

Is a weblog still a weblog if I don’t document events of my life?

My style of writing is akin to chitchatting with my friends over coffee. Friends as in those close to my age. I never expected anyone over the age of 40 to have any interest in what I have to say.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I have two different personalities: there’s a Kenny in-real-life and a Kenny in Bloggerland. My blogging-self is my actual self turned up several notches. Whilst most of the time the Kenny in Bloggerland is foul-mouthed, crude and larger-than-life, the Kenny in-real-life is actually caring, humble and almost never swear a single cuss word. 🙂
I’d write about things that went through my head, but these are things I’d never thought of saying it out in real life. What, you think I’d actually walk around flaunting my coconuts?
If someone made me angry in real life (like that flower-stealing incident), I wouldn’t show my anger to that person. I would be annoyed, but still humble so that the person wouldn’t be offended. At the back of my mind, I’d be angry at him, not furious. But when I got in front of the computer, I’d remember how angry I was and started calling him ‘assholes’ and all sorts of other ugly names.

Bar graph showing the level of my anger as perceived by the perpetrator, my actual anger and my exaggerated anger when I blog.
Yes, when I blog I tend to exaggerate things simply for good reading and for entertainment value. For example – he made me angry and I feel like whacking him. But because I couldn’t whack him in real life, I whacked him online. Honestly it feels good to vent your frustration that way.
In treating people nicely, I tend to swallow my anger too much. Eventually all my frustrations built up inside me I couldn’t take it anymore. Writing all about it in my blog is like having a good shit session in the toilet after having a big meal. It feels so damn good to let it all out of the system. Maybe that’s how the word ‘blog’ came about. ‘Blog’ sounds like what you make when your shit drops into the toilet bowl.
The reason I didn’t want my family to find out about my blog is because of one thing – paranoia. Fear of the unknown. And they have every reason to be paranoid about. If I were to ask you to venture into an unknown jungle you’d be paranoid as well. What if you got lost? What if you ran out of food. What if this, what if that?
That’s what ‘the Internet’ and ‘the Blogging Culture’ is to my family members – an unknown jungle. Its new. Its undiscovered. Its so public. Its so unknown. They have every reason to be paranoid about me owning a blog. Paranoid over my safety, paranoid about their privacy, paranoid about the family’s image and reputation. They probably wouldn’t like me writing anything about them, or about my father’s battles. I can understand that.
On the other hand, the reason I want as little Kuching people to find out about my blog is because of the way Society works.
Society holds stereotypes. Society expects certain people should behave a certain way and fit into a certain mould. Society dictates that HB of must be a good-for-nothing handbag-snatching drug addict, not the obedient high income-earning educated man that he is. Society dictates that ThaiBoxingGirl must be a tomboy Amazonian lesbian butch, not the sensual soft and gentle heterosexual lady that she is. Society dictates that Kenny must be a quiet and conservative man with the holiest morals who shies away from all things evil like sexy girls and good booze, not that sarcastic dirty-joke-telling naughty boy who takes pictures of himself and his hairy legs.
Sorry I didn’t fit into Society’s mould. Sorry I didn’t have my father’s character. I can’t help it that I’m brash. I can’t help it that I’m different.
Of course with the very public nature and popularity of my blog, people will find out and my family will find out. I’m not THAT naive to believe that that day wouldn’t come. I’m just hoping that it would come later instead of sooner. I’m hoping that one day I can blog about my job and my family freely, because they are after all an integral part of me. But I can’t. I’m longing that I can share my blog like how Niki shares it with his father. I’m wishing that one day, all my friends and families will read my blog, share my humour, probably get a little annoyed that I wrote about them but still be able to laugh with me. But they won’t.
Will they be ready to accept me? That I so readily depreciate myself. That I tell my crude dirty jokes all the time. That I do funny experiments with condoms. Will my family be ready to accept I’m a Paris Hilton-equivalent? (minus the sex scandals, plus the brains of course) Sadly, the answer is NO. And THAT’S the reason why I chose to hide it all from them, and let as little Kuching people know about my blog as possible.


Sorry for comparing myself to Paris Hilton. That was bad.

Some of you would suggest that I write anonymously. No offence to those who chose to do that. But I know if I enjoy reading someone’s blog, I’d try to find out some information about the blog’s author – at the bare minimum, the blogger’s real name, age, occupation and a photo so I get to have a face attached to the words that I read. I thought it is common courtesy that I reveal those information about myself to my readers. Obviously there are pros and cons, and although some bloggers believe otherwise, I personally believe that the pros outweigh the cons.
I’m not ashamed of what I wrote. I hide it only because I fear people who knows me cannot accept what a blog is, let alone the fact that I own a blog. That’s why I asked for your assistance hiding this blog from them. Never to discuss what you read about in this blog with my family. Never.
But of course, that sort of prevention measure is not foolproof. In fact, it didn’t work at all. Someone told my family what they read on my website. I won’t name names here, but you know who you are and I know EXACTLY who you are.
I leave it up to your imagination the result that follows.
Suffice to say my assumptions about their attitude towards my blog was correct, and that I once again contemplated shutting down
Hope it won't come to this one day

I hope I don’t have to do this one day.

Then I pinched myself hard. That would be unfair to me. That would be unfair to the majority of other readers who doesn’t know me in real life, like those Singa-bloody-poreans. 😉 jk. Maybe I should move to Singapore. I feel loved over there.
This will be the last entry on this site that I mention anything about the family.
In the meantime, I will be password-protecting my more personal entries. I hate doing that. In particular, I don’t like the fact that I’m not able to share stories of my father’s battles and his final journey, because those form obviously a very significant part of my life in bringing me where I am today. Its too bad they had to go.
Now, if I STILL hear people gossiping to members of my family about what I wrote here…
UPDATE: Chill guys, I’m not shutting down my blog (yet), merely password protecting some entries away from those certain somebodies. Kinda sad that it had to come to this. Rest assured I’ll let most of you know of the password once its done. Anyway, don’t over-react lah can?
‘Singa-bloody-poreans’ is a term derived from I picked it up and used it ‘cos I thought it was kinda cute. Obviously its all in jest, I mean no malice and I don’t hate Singaporeans at all. In fact, very much the contrary.
Surprisingly, more Singaporeans than Malaysians read this site. I owe them my balls for their unwavering support.

PMS = Poor Man Suffering

Nicole + Thattimeofthemonth = My time spent in front of computer reduced. Drastically.
What? You think I want to update my blog 2:30am in the morning yesterday?
There’s a joke that goes something like this.
“So why do they call it PMS?”
“Well that’s because Mad Cow Disease is already taken.”

I remember back in high school, I asked my good friend Eric how he knew when his girlfriend is having her period.
“Its easy, Kenny” Eric replied spontaneously. “When she’s having her PMS… I stand up also kena. I sit down also kena. I hang around doing nothing scratching my legs like that… ALSO KENA!
Why ar? Why do women have to abuse their boyfriends so harshly they’re having their period? I mean, its none of OUR business you’re having your period bah! Its not our fault you’re constructed that way. We can’t change that. You think we want you to bleed every month ar?

They ask you to ‘whisper’ so why are you shouting so loudly?

I’ve got female friends who complain how being a woman is so difficult. Women get harrassed, they get lower pay, they get pregnant.
And to top it all off, every month they get a visit from this horrible monster called ‘menstruation’ where they get cramps, they get bloated, they get cranky. So they get to yell at men, they get to throw things at men, they get to be totally unreasonable towards men, they get to force men to buy chocolates for them, then they get to cry for absolutely no reason at all and the men have to sit there and console them whilst uttering cuss words beneath their breath.
I’m not saying girls shouldn’t complain about their period. I know how painful having your period is. Errr.. wait, actually I don’t.
But since when its our fault you’re having your period. Why are we being made your scapegoat? How come we have to suffer together with you? If you’re painful or what just deal with it lah. Don’t complain and whine and cry here and there.
But of course… I’m not supposed to question you when you’re having your PMS. Sorry. Here, feel free to use my face as your punching bag.

I am wrong. You are right. You may hit me now.

Times like these I actually admire those gay couples out there. At least their partners don’t suffer from PMS. So they get to be all gay and happy.
But how about lesbian couples? Shit! Its gonna be bigger than World War 3 if both of them got hit by PMS exactly the same time. Imagine those dildos and strap-ons as missles!
*cough* Sorry I digressed. But my point is this.
Women always complain that having PMS is one of the worst things women have to endure. All I’m saying is – don’t bully your boyfriend lah. One person suffering is enough, why make two people suffer? Have you ever stop and wonder what your boyfriends have to go through every month when you have your period? Think about it!
We practically had to shrink our balls and lock them away while we listen to you picking a fight with us over the most itsy-bitsy-teeny-weenie things, only because we think its not worth jeopardizing the relationship over such trivial matters.

“Yes dear, you are right.”
“Yalah, its my fault. Sorry.”
“Ok lah don’t be angry liaw lah. Buy cadbury for you ok?”

These are just some of the lines we use to ‘let you win’. But the truth is – we only say it just to make you happy nia. Don’t actually mean it one.
See when you’re having your PMS, your job is easy. At the end of the day, you just eat your chocolates and blame it all on your hormones. But what about us? You’ve hurt our feelings. Our testicles have shrunk, and they will never grow back to the same size again. NEVER! 🙁
So girls, next time you have your PMS… will somebody PLEASE think of the children boyfriends!?

UPDATE: Lashing out against women, I am not. More like crying foul at the uhh… “injustices” myself and boyfriends around the world are facing.

The Queen and Prince Lip-Reading Game!

For obvious reasons, my mood hasn’t been the best lately and I think that is reflected on my entries these past few days. used to be known for its humourous entries. But hey, if I’m not laughing myself, how can I make everyone else laugh?
Heh. Maybe now its your turn to cheer me up!
Remember a while ago I wrote about how absurd it is that UK tabloid News of the World actually employed so-called professional lip readers to decode the Queen and Prince Charles conversation at his and Camilla Parker-Bowles’ wedding? Click on that link if you haven’t read that entry yet.
Here’s an excerpt if you’re too fucking lazy to exercise your finger and click on that link for your convenience.

How the heck can they simply decide what people are saying just by looking at a video? How do they even know they’re speaking English? For all I know, they could be conversing in Hokkien.

Hokkien Version

Well guess what?
Now, you too, can guess lip-read what exactly was said between the Queen and Prince during that royal wedding! proudly presents

Here’s how it works:

  1. Go to
  2. Enter what you think was said between those two.
  3. Save the generated image.
  4. If you have a blog, just post it up on your blog and comment below.
  5. If you don’t have a blog, just send it by e-mail it to me at im(a)

The script is not perfect but at least it should provide some form of geeky entertainment. I shall publish the best ones here in a few days time – depending on the amount of response I get of course.
So make me laugh, cheer me up… or something. 🙂

How To Be An Ass In Front Of A Grieving Family

Having someone from the family departing eternally is a very difficult thing to go through. When the grieving family was still feeling sad and heavy at the heart, the last thing they wanted was for someone to screw up their emotions even further.
In an ideal world, people would treat the grieving family with dignity and respect. Too bad we don’t live in an ideal world because we live in a world filled with too many smelly assholes.
These are sorry excuses for human beings that have no conscience whatsoever when it comes to treating a family who is at their lowest of the lows. Even when tears are flowing freely, they STILL managed to rile you up so much – you actually wished it was them lying in the coffin instead!
Unfortunately assholes exist, and these things happened. presents five ways how to make an ass out of yourself in front of a grieving family…

1. Steal the Flowers From the Wreaths


You can have it when its your time

Yes, there are a lot of flowers in the yard. Yes, some of them are very pretty. Yes, eventually they will wilt, they will die, and they will be disposed of.
But dammit, those flowers are NOT for you!
Look. They’re CLEARLY addressed to the family of the dearly departed. You can’t steal those flowers. Have some respect! I don’t know what you’re thinking but stealing flowers off the wreaths is just SO wrong.
Hey if you want pretty flowers, don’t steal them. Do yourself a favour. Jump off a tree and I’ll make sure I personally deliver one right to your door – your coffin door.

2. Leave Your Phone On During the Funeral Service

Picture this scene.
Friends and family members are sobbing and crying their heart out. People are consoling the grieving family and everyone is feeling low.
And then out of nowhere, 50 Cents singing In Da Club blares out of somebody’s MP3 ringtone-enabled mobile phone.

“Go shawty.
It’s your birthday.
We gonna party like it’s yo birthday.
We gonna sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday!”


Its like ‘Fiddy Cents’ himself is in da house.

Gee, thanks for spoiling the mood.
So you scurried to answer your phone while we continue with our sobbing and crying. That’s fine. People forget to switch their phone to silent sometimes and we can forgive that. After which we would have expected you to turn off the sound. But NO! 5 minutes later, your phone rang and 50 cents sang again.
Makes me feel like shoving your phone up your ass and teach you how to use its vibrating function.

3. Sell Your Religion To Us

This actually happened when my father was still well.
When it comes to religion, I’m surprisingly tolerant. I feel touched when people of other religion offer us prayers. I honestly think “God Bless You”/”Amitabha”/”Insya Allah” is a beautiful phrase. I’m quite ok (though slightly annoyed) when I was being preached to by people of a religion/denomination different to mine. I just respectfully reject them.
But one thing I positively absolutely terribly CANNOT stand, is people telling him to join their religion so that he can be ‘guaranteed’ a place in heaven. Or worse, people telling me the reason for his illness was because (I quote) he was possessed by demons!
What the foot!?
Possessed by demons?! You think I’m actually STUPID enough to believe that? What are you, an Amway salesman for your God? Wanting to meet your sales target so you can go on a 2-week holiday in heaven or something?

Choose your own heaven!

Why not join the ‘ religion’? Its full of goodies! When you die, you go to heaven. When you don’t die, I’ll smack you so hard you’ll die, then go to heaven.
Possessed by demons my ass.

4. Buy A Lottery Ticket


Its sickening to know how some people can turn even death into a money-making opportunity

If someone close to me just passed on, DO NOT ask me for his car plate number. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT asking me his death certificate number. For mighty fork’s sake, a person’s passing is not an opportunity for you to use those numbers and buy lottery tickets!
Alright, maybe I can’t change the fact that you are a no-good scumbag gambling addict.
But PLEASE, we honestly DO NOT need to know how his car plate number just won you a consolation prize in 4D. Like we’re gonna celebrate with you!

5. Ask About My Inheritance


Inheritance is not a Jackpot

I hate it HATE IT HATE IT when people ask me how much I’m getting for my inheritance.
For your bloody information, I just lost someone dear to me!
You think this is some sort of lucky draw or something? Maybe to you, losing a parent is a joyous occasion because you get to become slightly richer. But not to me.
Why does it even fucking matter to you how much I’ve inherited? I could have received RM2.54 in total for all I care because you know what – NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT THE MONEY!
Get a life. Literally!

Four Days and a Funeral

What a heavy few days it has been, both physically and emotionally, to see the man who raised me up with leaving me forever. From now on, all that’s left of him is the portrait on the wall, and memories of him in my heart.

A familiar hand on my lap brings a lot of comfort to me

Nicole specially flew in from Perth to be with me during this trying time. Its the first time we’re reunited since I left her on the 1st March. It was a bittersweet reunion – the fact that I got to see her on the day of my father’s funeral. But I’m glad she’s here. Somehow, listening to “One Sweet Day” with her in my arms is soothing to the soul.
Before they closed the lid on his coffin, I kissed my father on his forehead. The coldness of his skin still lingers on my lips. And that was the last time I touched my father.
In tough times like this, even the most unreligious person like me look for signs of God around me. The perfect weather these past two days during the service was too coincidental, as it rained heavily almost immediately after the conclusion of the funeral service.
But the amazing thing occurred as I bid my final farewell to my father at the crematorium. Out of no where, a magpie flew in chirping noisily. I flashed back to the morning before his passing. I remembered how my uncle sang softly to my father and how he said “Get well soon. Wake up and hear the magpies sing.” Amazing coincidence or a sign from God? I have no idea. Whatever it was, it certainly gave me a wonderful sense of comfort.

A magpie flew into the crematorium chirping noisily. Did you hear the magpies sing, dad?

He passed away peacefully. There was no pain. There was no struggle.
I can accept the fact that we all die one day. I can accept the fact that when the time comes, people around me will leave this place for eternal.
I think if we cannot accept the fact that we all die on day, we cannot actually start living.
What I could not accept is the fact that my father left us so early. It pains me knowing how hard he worked all his life and yet he hadn’t had time to taste the fruit of his labour nor to enjoy life to its fullest. Copies of National Geographic in his office are filled with places he hoped to travel one day. That day never came. He left too soon.
Nat Geo

Pa, didn’t you still have places left to explore?

Growing up, my father taught me many lessons. Lessons on the family. Lessons about the business. Lessons based on his rich life experiences. I’m sure there are many more but he hadn’t had enough time to teach me.
Perhaps the biggest lesson he taught me following the end his life, is how to start living my life. Be truthful. Be humble. Do not do things that intentionally hurt other people’s feelings. With all that he achieved in his life he has set a high benchmark for me. I have big shoes to fill. Will I be like him? Will I make him proud? When its my time to go, will people remember me the way they remember him?
One thing for sure, I’m keen to follow his footsteps.
I miss him. Emptiness is me coming home and not seeing him on his favourite reclining chair.
Yeah, life’s a bitch, but life goes on. I just have to have the balls to face it.