People are so desperate to look good nowadays, they are willing to believe absolutely anything.
A simple flip through local newspapers post-Chinese New Year shows that almost HALF the advertisement spaces are taken up by companies like Mrs Marie France, Miss Bella, Mr Svenson and the likes.
I am so touched. I don’t even know these people but they are so concerned about me that they wanna help me look younger, lose weight and grow hair. So caring!
Of course, the beauty industry is not stupid. They are happily taking advantage of the situation, cleverly turning people’s insecurities into a multimillion dollar business. They also boast some of the most ridiculous technology I have ever seen.
I mean, Xenon Pulsed Light that’ll diminish wrinkles by activating fibroblast cells with Short Infra Rays? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
Give me a break! If the words of these companies are anything to go by, then wrapping your body with aluminium foil is gonna make you lose fat and zapping your face with lasers is gonna make your wrinkles go away.
So I tried zapping my face with lasers, but the results didn’t turn out what I expected.
And now, after skin care, weight loss and hair growth, the latest innovation to come out from the beauty industry is the boob-growing industry.
I’m not joking.
Take a look at this ad, taken from Singapore’s Straits Times newspaper.
With an ad like that, I am almost convinced to wanna grow boobies too.
Oh wait, I already have man boobs. 🙁
Just look at it. In big bold font, the advertisement asks, “IS YOUR C-CUP CLEAVAGE REAL OR JUST PUSHED-UP?”
I’d like to add, “IS YOUR C-CUP CLEAVAGE REAL OR JUST PUSHED-UP, OR IS IT JUST PHOTOSHOP?”
But here’s the kicker.
When this company tries to describe the way they use to make boobies grow rounder, this is what they say.
Massaging your boobs with essential oils is gonna make them rounder and firmer? Seriously, who’s gonna believe that crock of bullshit?
If it were really that simple, I might as well just quit my job and open up a one of those beauty salons.
Then I’ll tell those women I can help them get bigger rounder boobs by massaging them with my essential oils, and I’m gonna charge them a lot of money just to see me.
And when they step through the door at my consultation room, this is what they’re gonna see.
I can make money, I make women feel good about themselves and I get to massage their boobies.
Who wouldn’t want this job?
Been moving around a lot lately, so much so that I didn’t have time to sit down and do a proper blog entry.
While driving me today, my mom almost made a wrong turning from the straightforward route to the airport. I had to alert her when I noticed we’re on the wrong lane, just in time for her to immediately swerve back into the correct path. “Oh yea! I forgot it’s this way”, she sighed.
I am the youngest of three children in my family, also the most rebellious. Growing up, my parents always scolded me for being the most stubborn one. Many times when I have an opinion about something, I would always insist that everyone else is wrong and I am right.
Even when I’m clearly in the wrong, I’d still pretend that I’m right.
My mom clearly has had a difficult time dealing with me, especially during my raging teenage years. When I was younger, everytime she and I had a fight, my mom would always get a kick out of pointing out the glaring flaws in my arguments. On the contrary, no matter how hard I try, I could never make her admit to the mistakes she had made.
Fact is, when I was younger I make a lot more mistakes in a day than she makes in a year. But everytime she points my mistakes out for me, I would brush them off as nagging. Everytime I made a mistake, she would force me to do things her way, and I hated her for it.
Today, I’m well into my mid-twenties. And my mom, well, she’s getting older. Her memory fails, her judgment deteriorates, and the mistakes that she makes become more frequent and more obvious. Now when I point out her mistakes to her, instead of defending herself, she sighs in resignation.
I’m still the young, brash and stupid boy that I was. I still make heaps of mistakes. Only difference is, apart from the superficial stuff, she’s no longer pointing out to me the mistakes that I make. On occasions when we have a disagreement, she lets me “win” instead of forcing me to do things her way.
Maybe she no longer understands what I’m doing well enough to make the judgment. Maybe she’s afraid I’d brush her away as nagging and not listen to her. Maybe it is just that she has simply accepted the fact that I am all grown up into an adult now, and thinks that I no longer needs a retired person like her to tell me my mistakes, to advise me what I should do in life.
What my mom doesn’t know is that now I’m all grown up, I appreciate – more than ever – what she did for me when I was growing up.
I am an adult now and I still make mistakes. How I wish now that everytime I make mistakes, my mom would point them out for me, once again.
There’s this place in Penang that I find darn fascinating, especially for me.
On Abu Siti Lane, is a row of old colonial residential houses.
These are actual residential homes that people lived in before. You can see the interior of the house clearly partitioned to show where the living room is, the dining room is, and so on. But instead of having humans inside, these houses are filled with coconuts.
ROOMS after ROOMS full of coconuts! Flowing down the staircase, into the living room, out on the verandah. Nothing but piles and piles of coconuts, everywhere.
Never have I seen so many coconuts gathered into one place before, apart from the men’s changing room at the gym.
In front of each of these houses is a man holding a parang knife guarding the place.
You order what type of coconut you want from the guy (choice between standard or pandan coconut). He’ll pick up a random coconut from the pile and armed with his parang, he’ll skilfully chop up the coconut right then and there.
Part of the fun is watching how he’s able to slice up such a small object with such a huge knife. One wrong move and he could very well end up with his hand on the floor.
Look at how he hold his coconut. I wouldn’t recommend anyone to try this at home. Or anywhere else for that matter.
When he’s done, the guy will poke a straw in it so you can drink the coconut juice from it just like that.
When you’re done, you hand the coconut back to him and he’ll chop it up some more so you can savour the meat of the coconut.
He can carve a makeshift spoon out of the coconut shell for your convenience!
When you’re done eating the inside of the coconut, you can do some stupid things with it. Like making it your coconut bra.
And then you pose.
And then you pose some more.
And then you pose like you’re making love to the camera.
And then some guy come around and molest you.
And apparently, I got a little bit too sexcited ‘cos when everything is said and done, I accidentally left a stain on my shirt.
Isn’t there supposed to be a ban on fireworks in Malaysia?
It sure didn’t seem that way when the clock struck midnight here in Kuching.
Despite the police warning year after year that they’ll be slapping some RM100 on-the-spot fine on anyone found to be in possession of fireworks, us Kuching folks are still proudly firing colourful explosives into the skies, courtesy of our friendly illegal exporters from China.
It’s a blessing in disguise for the predominantly Chinese south city folks. Standing at a house on the hilltop where I had a clear view of all the action, the amount of pyrotechnics let off from the private residential homes across Kuching would have easily put the multimillion ringgit government-sponsored fireworks on the 1st January in Kuala Lumpur to shame.
Why ban fireworks anyway? It’s still easily available at shoddy car boot sales everywhere. Besides, only idiots would misuse fireworks and injure themselves. The government should be happy that they don’t even have to spend a single cent to entertain its residents this festive season.
Happy Chinese New Year of the Pork to all kennysia.com readers!
Speaking of Maggi, there’s this pretty interesting contest running on their website right now.
Contestants are shooting videos of themselves showing why they are Maggi Mee’s biggest fans. The videos with the most votes go to the judges, and the first prize winner gets RM5,000 cold-hard cash. Last I checked, there’s only four other videos submitted so far. How difficult could it be to win the money, right?
Go and send your own videos in while you can. It’s like YouTube, with money. While you’re there, check out the others as well. Some of them are kinda cute.
This Chinese New Year, pay attention to your surroundings. Don’t be surprised if you feel the atmosphere is a little bit different.
One only needs to walk through Kuching’s Chinatown at Padungan Road to find our cat statues is not only decked in their Chinese New Year costumes, they are now also holding latterns bearing the likeness of packets of Maggi Mee instant noodles.
Well, at least it’s Maggi. Can you imagine what those cats would dress like if Triumph underwear were to sponsor the whole thing?
If Triumph sponsored Padungan’s Chinese New Year Bazaar.
That’ll give a whole new meaning to Kuching’s nickname of Pussy Town.
This wasn’t the only instance of advertising infiltrating our festive celebrations. A while back I witnessed an interesting lion dance performance that is unlike any other I have ever seen before.
At first sight, the trio of lions look just like any other ugly lions we see on Chinese New Year.
But these ones are slightly special. If you look close enough, you would notice that the green, red and yellow coloured lions have the logos of a certain brand painted on them.
Guess what? Three lions are named Milo, Nescafe and Maggi! Oh my.
What was previously a good ol’ traditional Chinese custom of lion dances, now doubles up as a platform for advertising.
Times must be difficult for this troupe of lion dancers. You must not blame them for resorting to this though, especially considering the only time these lion dancers can earn any profit from their hard work is during Chinese New Year. Of course they’ll do what they can to maximise their profits lah.
Heck, even the Chinese drum they use sports a huge logo of Maggi on it!
I don’t know about you, but I bet that thing sends out secret subliminal messages. With every beat of the drum, the audience become subconsciously urged to buy Maggi products on their next trip to the supermarkets.
No wonder I got craving for instant noodles after watching the performance.
There’s one thing I don’t understand about Valentine’s Day.
Why is so much pressure and expectations put onto us guys to perform on Valentine’s Day? I reckon February the 14th is one big freaking conspiracy theory set up by little girls to force their boyfriends into being extra sweet and nice to them, just so them girls could make their friends jealous.
For years, we are fooled into spending money and taking time off work to plan the ultimate Valentine’s date and make our girls happy. In the end, what do we get? Nothing.
I say enough is enough. I say it’s high time us guys hit back and them girls. Let’s give them have a taste of their own medicine.
This Valentine’s, instead of showing up at the front of her house with a bunch of red roses, just show up empty handed.
When the look of disappointment shows up on her face, tell her straight to her face that you have found someone new. You are dumping her and you’re moving on. Confirm she will demand to know which one is your new girl. When that happens give me a call.
I will show up at her house pretending to be your new girlfriend.
Your boyfriend dumped you because of me. Jealous now?
I am so pretty.
What are the odds of a Kuching blogger travelling to Penang to be part of a reality TV show, eating Penang Char Kueh Teow at a table, right next to a Singaporean blogger who’s also travelling to Penang to shoot a separate TV show?
I swear there wasn’t any prior planning going into this. The whole thing just happened completely out of the blue.
I was just sitting there doing my thing when I noticed an ang moh boy walking across the road. I thought to myself, “Hmmm… that guy looks remarkably like XiaXue‘s boyfriend.”
A short while later, I noticed a tall lanky girl sporting a tattoo of a star on her arm walking past me, and I thought to myself, “Hmmm… that girl looks just like XiaXue’s Girls Out Loud co-host Rozz.” “Hey wait a minute, it IS Rozz.”
Turns out the whole Girls Out Loud crew was there in Penang, eating at the exact same Char Kueh Teow stall at the exact same time as I did. Seriously, what are the chances right?
I couldn’t even recognise Wendy Cheng. Sporting a new hair colour and a new nose, she’s looking refreshly different.
Heh. A Kuching boy and a Singaporean girl bumping into each other at a little lorong in Penang, of all places.
It’s a small world after all.
How many bad Chinese New Year songs do we have to tolerate each year until our brains start falling off?
Original Chinese New Year songs are good enough as they are, but YEAR AFTER YEAR some idiots JUST have to put out these Weapons of Mass Destruction aka underaged kids with too much make-up on their ugly faces, screaming through the music videos in a supposedly “cute” fashion.
How can anyone stand that kind of torture?!
If you’re thinking it couldn’t get any worse, you are wrong. In a desperate attempt to spice up your favourite Chinese New Year songs, someone came up with an album intelligently titled… Chinese New Year Songs (Dance Remix).
Mark my words, this song is gonna be a HUGE in clubs worldwide.
I was walking around a construction area this afternoon. Some contractor there left a huge piece of glass on the table. When I walked past it, I unknowingly swung my hand into the glass and it left a deep gash on my finger.
Strangely it didn’t hurt one bit when my flesh was cut inside. Blood was flowing non-stop, but I thought all I gotta do is put a plaster on it and just go home.
The doctor actually took this pic for me. Haha!
It wasn’t until the doctor told me that I require stitches to close up the gaping wound that I freaked out.
Yes, I may have balls the size of coconuts but I’m a pussy when it comes to people poking needles in me. What more, sewing my flesh up like it’s a piece of clothing.
The procedure wasn’t as bad as I thought though. The doctor poked a needle in me and two minutes later my hand was numb. Still, having a needle stuck in me hurts more than having a glass piece slice open my flesh. I had two stitches put on my finger.
I was also refrained from swimming and lifting any heavy weights for two weeks. Guess that pretty much means that come Chinese New Year, my uncles and aunties will be saying “WAH! So fat already huh !?”
I took a photo of my wounded finger in its worst state, but I don’t think I should put it up here. There are kids and old people reading this thing.
It is very disgusting. And I strongly advise you against seeing it if you have a weak heart. You wouldn’t be able to take it. It is gruesome. Still, if you are curious and you really wanna see how it looks like, feel free to go ahead and… CLICK HERE.
Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.