As the FIFA World Cup goes into full swing, I find myself deeply engrossed in the world’s most popular sport.
I wasn’t normally like that. I hardly followed the EPL or any other forms of soccer/football championships for that matter in the past. In my free time I do plenty of sports, mainly running and swimming, but I’ve never played soccer my entire life.
The truth is, I suck when it comes to balls.
…
No no no, what I meant was –
I find ball games a little too hard to play.
No, wait.
Ahhh screw it.
Oh my. On the pitch? I think that’s a foul.
My point is, I have a newfound interest in soccer thanks to the World Cup and I’m considering taking up the sport.
Over the weekend, I was at the shopping centre looking through some shoes, jerseys and stuff when I spotted the official ball for this year’s World Cup – theadidas Teamgeist.
OMG I WANT THAT BALL!
What an absolute beauty of ball sitting right there in front of the shop seemingly saying to me, “Buy me, Kenny! Buy me!”
Hypnotised by it’s sexy curves, I sauntered dreamily to the ball, picked it up and much to my horror I saw this staring right back at me.
What the hell?! 400 bucks for a freakin’ soccer ball?! CCB SIMILAN ISLAND WHAT A RIP-OFF!
You gotta be wondering how much of a killing adidas is making right now just selling those balls.
RM400 per ball! RM400 is a lot ok! Not some small amount little kids can afford ok! RM400 can buy me 180 bowls of kolo mee and I’d still have some spare change to keep. And you expect me to spend it on a seemingly normal ball with some stupid curves and the ridiculous Germany 2006 logo on? DREAM ON!
Sien. The CEO of adidas must be swimming in a pool filled with cash right now. Makes me want start my own business selling balls as well. Too bad I only have two and I need them both.
If you’re anything like me, you’d feel very tulan as well. It’s like, you want something so much but you just can’t see yourself spending so much money on something so unjustifiably overpriced that it’s killing you inside.
Just then a light bulb appeared over my head. I thought to myself… why not make my own soccer ball? The Teamgeist is loaded with all these fancy technology a casual player wouldn’t care. All we care about is the look. Why pay so much for a soccer ball that looks good? Make your own!
Yes, that’s right. For a fraction of the cost of an authentic adidas Teamgeist, I could make my very own official FIFA World Cup 2006 soccer ball. And I’m gonna show you how.
First, you’d need a regular soccer ball. Any one will do. Get a “Made In China” one at your local sports store for a cheap RM40.
Sure, it won’t last as long and the specs aren’t as good, but the improvements in the Teamgeist ball are minimal in practice you probably won’t notice it anyway.
Then you gotta spray the ball all white.
Use spray paint of ICI Dulux, whichever you prefer. Gotta have a white background before you paint the designs on later ya know?
Now comes the difficult part.
You know how the Teamgeist ball features the signature World Cup trophy-inspired ’rounded propellers’? That’s important. That’s the whole reason why so many wanted the ball in the first place.
But how do you do it?
Easy.
You get a box of Kotex.
Stick ’em all over your ball.
Add drawings with a marker pen and there you go!
Your very own Official FIFA World Cup Teamgeist Ball.
They look so similar no one can tell the difference.
Better still, if your girl is expecting her monthly matter, you can just peel one off your ball to let her use. And she’d be so in love with you.
Dear Papa,
It’s been a year since you left us. How are you holding up? Hope you’re enjoying your holidays. I wonder what you are doing right now. Most probably relaxing on your rocking chair, smoking your favourite cigarette, sipping on black coffee. Just like before.
You always liked my coffee. Been a while since I made coffee for you isn’t it? How’s the coffee like over there? Are they any better than Starbucks?
Things sure felt a little different since you left. For one, we had a really quiet Chinese New Year this year. Mom, Bro and Sis were all overseas at the time. I was the only one who stayed back home.
It certainly felt strange visiting friends and families on my own for the first time. I missed the times when we would wake up really early, eat ‘long-life noodles’ and do our visiting as a family. There’s even one year when we all donned traditional Chinese costumes for CNY, remember? We all look really cute and funny. That was one of the fondest memories I had of Chinese New Year when you’re around.
On CNY eve, I had my Reunion Dinner with the cousins instead. Before the dinner, I still called out “Pa, chi. Mi, chi” out of habit. How silly of me! I forgot this year you’re not on the table with us.
Hey, our house is gonna going through renovations soon. I saw the drawings and it looks great. Mom has been real stressed out because she doesn’t have you around to discuss things. It upsets me sometimes to see her in the state she’s in. You know how much Mom misses you. It’s been a year and Mom still thinks of you every single day. Well, Mother’s Day is coming and I plan to do something special for her.
Sister is moving to New Zealand later this month. Her two beautiful kids are growing up quick. Jayden is really smart and inquisitive, always pestering his mother to teach him new words. Her 17-month-old Kirsten is still learning how to walk. That clumsy little girl is always falling down all over the place, then she’ll start crying non-stop. Haha. Sis really has her hands full taking care of those two little monkeys. Poor sis.
As for me, work is going ok. There’s a lot of travelling. It’s a little stressful at first but I find myself getting into the thick of things already. I just need to manage my time better to take care of many things at once. Don’t worry, I’ll try my best.
Business is doing well. In fact, it’s growing strong and better than ever. But you know how it’s like. When you’re on top there’s always people out there wanting to bring you down. Last week my friend told me he heard people spreading false rumours about you having sold off your business. Haha. What a foolish joke. I can imagine you bent over laughing with us if you’re still around. Please forgive them though. It’s the small town mentality. They don’t know better.
To be honest, we didn’t quite feel like you’re gone sometimes. Your office is still the same as when you left it. The lights are still switched on, your desk still wiped and cleaned everyday. At times, it feel like you’re only gone for a few days travelling and that one day you might come back.
You know, I bump into your friends pretty often these days. They would always speak fondly of you, sharing with me precious memories of you they have. The few of us would chat and laugh happily as we recall the Chinese idioms and analogies you’ve taught us. I would chuckle and tell them that the first Malay sentence you taught me was “tiap tiap pagi, saya mengosok gigi.”
It never fails to amaze me how much detail your friends and colleagues can remember about you, right down to which laksa stall was your favourite and where you used to sit in the coffee shops. That’s how deeply you’ve touched their lives. Words you’ve said to them so long ago still stay fresh in their mind, as if they’ve only just talked to you last week.
Ahhh… memories. I remember when I was about 4 or 5, I fell asleep in the car once and you carried me to my bedroom and tucked me in to sleep. I liked that so much I would always pretend to fall asleep in the car, even on a bright sunny afternoon. It continued on for quite a while. Guess at some point I became too heavy, and you’d have to resort to tapping me on my shoulders to wake me up instead.
Anyway, I better stop here now else I might go on forever.
It’s been a year since you’re gone. Papa, you used to always call me when you’re away travelling, asking me if I missed you. I miss you now pa, why didn’t you call me? I want to tell you that I miss you a lot, and that you’re the best father a boy could ever dream of.
We have fate. And I’m so happy that at one point in our lives, our paths met as father and son.
Until we meet again, pa. 🙂 Take care.
Everyone’s probably sick of reading the Adventures of Kenny Sia in Phuket already so this will be one final entry about my trip.
Oh and you probably won’t get the meaning of this entry if you don’t speak Hokkien, so please bear with me just this once.
You know, with all that notoriety Thailand has as Asia’s sex capital, I gotta wonder what are odds of Phuket sounding like “Fuck It” and the nation’s capital sounding like “Bang Cock”.
What are the odds of me stepping off the plane at Phuket International Airport, and the first thing that I saw was this poster of a baby looking at me with his gaping mouth, eyes wide open, and these Thai words in front it that reads like “DIU”.
I sometimes wonder if all these dubious names would come up if Thais speak Hokkien.
Take an example. The most popular red-light district in Patong Beach is Soi Bangla. In Thai “Soi” means “Street” and “Bangla” means “Festival” – “Soi Bangla” simply means “Festival Street”.
In Hokkien however, “Soi Bangla” is a foreign worker from the Bangladesh who is very unlucky.
Elephant porn stars. How is he able to perform with so many people watching?
It’s ridiculous. Sexual connotations are everywhere in Thailand. I was brainwashed after just one day walking around Soi Bangla, so much so that when I saw this shopsign,
I was like “WAH! BLOWJOB SOUVENIRS!”
And when I saw this shop,
I thought “WAH! CHEEBYE MINIMART!”
Sometimes, you’ll see shop signs that sound ridiculous, but you can’t pin point what exactly is wrong with it.
I was a little overwhelmed by all these. However, nothing could suppress my laughter when I walked into a dive shop in Phuket, and adorned on the walls are posters promoting dive trips to… SIMILAN ISLAND!
What kinda name for an island is THAT?!
Man, I can so imagine seeing a yellow-haired Paikia Ah Beng squatting on a wooden bench, floral shirt unbuttoned halfway, dragon tattoo, cigarette in one hand, yelling “OI! LU KUA SIMI KUA?! KUA SIMI LAN?!”
If the island is called Similan Island, does that mean the birds on the island are called “Similan Jiao”?
I think I’m becoming increasingly over-reliant on my computer these days.
I spend most of my time at work facing a computer. I read the news online, I write letters, socialise, communicate, research, play games, earn money, do my banking, book my flights on Fare.net all using a computer. And with my career firmly in the IT line, I doubt things aren’t gonna change for the better anytime soon.
The sad fact is that I spent so much time on the computer that I don’t know even how to lead a normal life without it anymore. It’s bloody ridiculous.
I depend on my computer so much, sometimes I even wished there were computer features built into real life.
Like that other time when I was attending a business function that required me to make small talks with countless strangers. It’s impossible to remember everyone’s name right. Mistakes can and do happen.
Damn awkward when you’re stuck in a situation like this, isn’t it?
How I wish there’s a feature like Dictionary.com’s spell check function in real life. That way, then at least you can have a chance to correct yourself before you stumble and end up making a bad first impression.
Works out to be so much safer.
Or I could be trying to cook a dish dinner but have absolutely no idea how to proceed. The best I could do was prepare all the ingredients. Times like this I wish a paper clip will pop up from the corner and ask me if I need help.
I’d say ‘yes’ and just like that, dinner is ready to be served.
That would be a cool feature.
Then there were countless frustrating times when I lost my wallet, phone or car keys.
Imagine how nice it would be if next time I misplaced my stuff, and a window box popped up all of the sudden and asked me:
I think that would make life so much easier for absent-minded ppl like me.
But I tell you what is useful though.
Say it’s a Saturday night, you’re feeling a little naughty, a lil raunchy. You walked into a hip club looking for some hot steamy action. The club is packed but none of the sexy ladies were looking at you. You feel like a failure, standing all alone.
How nice would it be if at this point in time, you can do this?
Google’s “I’m Feeling Lucky” function in real life. Now won’t you just luurrrrvvvveeee to have that!? 😉
It’s tough job being a male blogger sometimes.
Some people write for themselves and some people write for an audience. Like most people, I do both and I reckon kennysia.com did a pretty good job so far balancing them.
I do have to admit though that I don’t always find writing for an audience easy at all. Most people tell me that they visit my blog for laughs. I acknowledge that. However ideas, inspiration and wit are not something that come 24/7. They go through a cyclical pattern, much like a woman’s menstrual cycle.
So occassionally during my low point I get people telling me, “Eh Kenny, write something funny lah.” I try to tell them “Eh friend, I’m gonna be very busy the next two weeks hor. Can you like, make my girl have PMS right now so we can get it over and done with?”
That usually shuts them right up.
It’s so much easier being a female blogger.
Guys can only write so much humour, politics and technology before we run out of inspiration. For girls, they can write the same stuff if they wanted to, but they can also write a bimbo blog.
Bimbo blog is a genre of blogging that’ll never go out of style. They’re characterised by the blogger (usually female) posting up half-an-Internet-full-of-bandwidth-sucking photos of themselves going about doing stuff like partying, going for manicures, shopping, partying, attending fashion shows, partying, doing their make-up, partying, meeting celebrities, going on a cruise, partying, partying, partying… zzzzzzz.
Bimbo blogs may not have a lot of substance or thought-provoking content, but you know what? They’re fun. And people read it. And people DIG those shit. I know I do. Just look at the female bloggers I linked to on my sidebar – half of them write darn good bimbo blogs.
I read a lot of bimbo blogs because I’m a hot-blooded male and I never stop being curious about the opposite sex since puberty.
One thing though. Bimbo blogs are strictly the realm of female bloggers. Guys can’t write bimbo blogs. I mean if you’re a guy and you enjoy posting up multiple hi-resolution self-indulgent photos of yourself, mannnnn… you got some serious issues to deal with, mate. Stop touching my body.
That’s precisely the reason why I can’t help but to feel envious of Xiaxue sometimes. I know it’s a bit mean for me to say this, me being her personal friend, I love her and all that. But Xiaxue doesn’t exactly write the most cheem stuff you know, and yet the advertisers LOVE her! They love her to DEATH!
I don’t understand. How on God’s Green Earth is one girl able to, just by writing a pink bimbo blog, attract all those companies giving her free T-shirts, free cruises, free MP3 players, free contact lens solution, free manicure, free hairstyling, etc. At the same time still able to earn MORE advertising revenue in a month than my monthly salary working 9-5.
Heck, I’m getting more hits now than Xiaxue when she first got her Localbrand endorsement. WHERE IS MY ENDORSEMENT DEAL?! WHERE IS MY DAWN YANG TALENT AGENCY CONTRACT!? Hello? Big time major corporate companies!? Does being the No.1 Malaysian blog on Technorati not mean ANYTHING to you???
Ok ok ok, maybe not.
My point is, I’m drowning in a green pool of jealousy at all these perks the bimbo blogs are getting. I think it’s clear. BIMBO BLOG = MONEY.
So I figured, why not turn kennysia.com into a bimbo blog? I’d love to go on a free cruise. I’d love to get a free MP3 player. If they can do it, why can’t I?
I mean, how DIFFICULT could it be? All I got do is… post up many many photos of myself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I am in a good mood today so I am going to give you all make up tips.
These are my nails.
These are my nails after I put on fake nails.
I am so pretty.
These are my eyes.
These are my fake eyelashes.
These are my eyes after I put on fake eyelashes.
I am so pretty.
This is Superstar Virgo.
They sponsored my cruise trip. I am so happy. Please support Superstar Virgo.
Here are some photos of me clubbing with my friends.
Ok gtg. In case you forgot how chio I am, here’s a reminder.
I am pretty.
I am pretty.
I am pretty.
I am pretty.
I am pretty.
I am pretty.
Don’t you think I’m so gorgeous?
Get the background and history of golf equipment here. This is a great site on famous players over the years and the history of golf. You can also discover the differences of golf equipment that many probably do not even know. This site offers lots of interesting facts on golf you can surprise your friends with. If you enjoy playing outside, then check out great information on sports caps and hats at cheap prices.
I’ve decided to pick up yet again, another sport. This time I’m playing golf.
Like most people, I don’t get this whole golf thing. I don’t get golf like I don’t get ballroom dancing as an Olympic sport or people playing 5-day-long cricket.
What’s so fun about hitting a small little ball once, spending the next ten minutes trying to look for your ball and then hitting it again? I don’t get it.
It’s unexciting. It’s boring. It’s so boring I’m afraid I might fall asleep on the golf course until I wake up the next day with birds nibbling on my head.
But I decided to pick up golfing because golf is the unofficial game of the business world. Jokes about big men playing with small balls aside, the networking and social opportunities one can make on the golf course is quite invaluable.
Business moguls like Donald Trump and big shot politicians like George Chan all play golf. Considering the career path I’m taking, I figured it’s probably better to learn the game sooner rather than later.
See I’ve been hanging out a lot with older guys lately. These guys are so passionate about golf, they virtually eat, breathe, shit golf balls.
And the guys have succesfully coaxed me into trying out the sport. One of them was even generous enough to give me his spare golf set to try out. Thanks!
There’s only one problem.
I know absolutely NOTHING about golf. My experience using a golf club doesn’t extend anything beyond hitting people with it in GTA: San Andreas.
This is how I play golf
It’s gonna be very weird to use a golf club to hit a ball for a change.
So one day I drove down to the driving range at 2.5 mile for some swinging action. A tray of golf balls cost RM6.50 and it’s good for people like me to fire some practice shots before hitting the golf course for the real thing.
I did everything my golf-expert friends told me to: feet apart, shoulders relaxed, knees bent, eyes focused on the ball.
I raised my golf club, and with all the might in my body, gave the biggest swing of my life. WHAM! I struck the golf ball, and it flew through the air disappearing into the horizon. Magic.
Or at least that’s what I hoped would happen.
Reality is, I missed the ball by a foot and ended up looking like a monkey trying scratch its back. It’s not a pretty sight.
Man, this golf thing is harder than I thought. Definitely not as easy as it seems on TV.
After what seems like an eternity of struggle, I finally realised where I went wrong. The other players in the driving range all had a golf tee to help prop up the ball, whereas I was just hitting it from the ground.
That’s why I kept hitting everything else but the ball!
So I bought a cheap rubber tee from the shop, propped up the ball and started all over again.
Feet apart, shoulders relaxed, knees bent, eyes focused on the ball. Focus, Kenny. Took a deep breath, swing and WHAM!
The ball is there, but the tee is no where to be seen. I hit the golf tee away instead. KNNCCB!
I woke up at 3:30am that day.
A part of me wanted to give up already since I’m not used to waking up so early. With merely 4 hours of sleep and 2 weeks of training, I was desperately underprepared.
The free shuttle bus was already outside the Mandarin Court Hotel waiting to take me to Dataran Merdeka. It was dark, but I can literally feel the electricity in the air.
The Sultan Abdul Samad building was beautifully lit up. Hundreds of participants were already there. Some stretching, others rubbing generous amount of petroleum jelly onto their bodies.
Completing a marathon is a feat that require an almost superhuman effort. And I was there to represent the Average Joes.
Some people were there to win the cash prize. For the majority of us, we were there not for the money, but to push our bodies above and beyond the human limits.
It’s very easy for me to feel out-of-place in this pool of people. Everyone there is so slim and well-built, and there I was standing there with a spare tyre around my waist.
It’s even easier to separate the seasoned marathoners away from the noobs. The experienced ones all have that intimidating bad-ass look about them.
Like this trio of Mainland Chinese girls that look like boys that look like girls.
They finished at 3hr06min, 2hr53min and 2hr57min respectively.
We’re all gathered at the starting point. My mind was all cleared up. Adrenaline pumping high.
Drummers on standby.
I hung around the place quietly observing other people, drinking more water and munching on PowerBar till about 5am.
And then it’s game time.
“BANG!”
The timing chip set off a beep as I crossed the starting mat. Everyone was quickly passing through me at this point.
I didn’t want to catch up with them. My aim was to go slow and steady, keeping at a pace I’m comfortable with.
Within ten minutes, the marathon claimed its first victim.
The tarmac on KL roads were rough and lack the “bounce” I’m used to on proper running tracks, but I was still doing OK.
It didn’t take long for me to reach the 5km checkpoint. 40 minutes. That’s 10 minutes longer than what I aimed for. I had to pick up my pace.
I downed two cups of 100 Plus. Usually I don’t drink those stuff (I prefer Gatorade), but at that point in time it was the best tasting drink ever.
At 7.5km I arrived the first sponging station.
These ice-cold sponges are God-sent. I squeezed them over my sweaty head and felt instantly rejuvenated.
I passed the 10km point in 1hr17mins. That was still the easy part.
My feet were just starting to hurt. The seasoned runners were all running far ahead of me and it was pretty clear that I was among the last few.
It was 7:03am when I witnessed daybreak. The KL commuters were jamming up the freeway and the CO2 emission were not doing any good to my lungs.
Still had time to camwhore though.
At this point, I overtook a female runner – a first since I started the race. For a moment, I was thinking of doing something stupid like flirting with her and asking for her phone number. Alas, I was too shy to do that so I just smiled at her cheekily instead.
The girl caught up with me a short while later and quipped “Excuse me. Are you Kenny Sia?!”
OMG SHE RECOGNISED ME! The embarrassment! San San is a reader of kennysia.com and she later finished at 5hr59min. We made some small talks before I let her continue on with the race.
Man peeing by the roadside in broad daylight.
Without a doubt, I met a lot of interesting people during the marathon, but nothing could me prepare for the shock I had when I met Mr Yap. This is one man I DEFINITELY did not expect to see in a race like this is.
THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is Mr Yap.
He is 73 years old, old enough to be my grandpa and yet still running a 42km marathon. Despite being three times my age, he still managed to finish the race at 5hr06min.
Now how’s THAT for determination?
In case any of you KL people were stuck in a traffic jam last Sunday morning, that was me trying to cross the road.
To keep my mind occupied, I attempted to high-five the traffic policemen everytime I passed one of them. Not all of them are cooperative though. KL policemen are so boring.
Or maybe I’m just too boh liao.
Definition of a heaven
3 hours into the race, I crossed the 21km halfway mark. Already I had broken my personal record for longest time spent running.
Lactic acid was building. My legs up till my knees were completely sore and numb. I wished I was doing the half marathon instead.
The course was taking us through Jalan Bukit Bintang in downtown KL when suddenly terror struck.
Cramps had attacked my calves. I stopped running and grimaced in pain. It was the most dreadful feeling I had to endure. For the first time ever since the race started, I had to completely stop and wait for the cramps to subside.
One minute seems like forever, and it was pure Hell.
A stranger passed by and handed me a tube of analgesic cream. Thanks! I probably wouldn’t even be able to finish the race without it.
We passed through some motivational placards sponsored by Nike. “There Is No Finishing Line”, “Punch Through”, “Push Myself”, “Just Do It”.
That was all I needed to mentally go ahead. The pain on my ankles, my feet, my legs were excruciating. But absolutely NOTHING could stop me from finishing the race.
I reached the 30km point in 4hr18mins. 30km is the human threshold. From this point onwards, it’s do or die.
Aches from my feet went up to my lower back. It was punishing. The pain was absolutely unbearable. I’m practically LIMPING my way though. I couldn’t run anymore or I’ll get cramps.
All I could only rely on was willpower and sheer willpower alone to get me through this.
I gritted my teeth and continued pushing myself.
I started to hallucinate.
I thought about life. I thought about my career. I thought about going to Phuket next month. I even imagined the finishing line to be at Phuket where I could just jump into the sea and relax.
For some reason, I became Hulk Hogan and began talking to myself in the Hulkster’s voice. “Watcha gonna doooo…! Watcha gonna dooo….! When Hulkamania runs wild on yoooooo….!”
Trust me, beyond 30km you think all sorts of crazy things.
The last few kilometres seem to go on forever. The sun was shining bright at this point. My legs felt as if they’ve been run through by an 18-wheeler.
It’s a torture. Pure brutal torture. Every step is like a steel pipe going through my legs. My digicam is like a brick. My shoes weigh a ton. I thought I walked 5 km but in actual fact I only walked one.
SCREW YOU ISAAC NEWTON FOR MAKING ONE KILOMETRE SO BLOODY LONG DAMMIT!
When I reached the 40th kilometre, I knew I had already missed the 6 hour qualifying time.
What made it even worse is that the drinking station that was supposed to be there had disappeared. Stupid DBKL don’t care about the last remaining competitors. 🙁
As if that wasn’t bad enough, my iPod ran out of juice. That was by far my biggest mental support and now it’s gone! I’m all alone.
KL International Marathon claims another casualty.
I was almost ready to give up when the DBKL van passed me and asked if I wanted to hop on. OF COURSE NOT DAMMIT! Tempting, but I rejected their kind offer and continued limping towards the finishing line.
I would NEVER forgive myself if I’ve come THIS far and not complete the marathon.
A roundabout later, I saw it.
The finishing line in sight! Isn’t that the most beautiful thing in the world? It was so near yet so far.
I was limping, literally DRAGGING myself as I inched closer and closer to the finishing line. “Let me finish this race. JUST let me finish this race.” I prayed. I looked up just in time to see my finishing time on the timeboard…
… and the mat goes “BEEP!”
I DID IT. I FUCKING DID IT.
It was my first ever marathon, and I crossed the finishing line after 6hrs33mins.
A HUGE sense of relief came all over me. It was unbelievable. Euphoric. Jubilant. I could not believe myself. THIS is what I call a natural high.
ME!? Conquering the 42km KL International Marathon!? You gotta be joking!
Nonetheless, I was very upset at myself for not making it under 6 hours. I sat under the shade, still in awe of what had just happened.
What an amazing experience.
The greatest relief in the world is when you take off your shoes after a 42km run.
Here I am, an overweight man attempting what myself and many other people thought was the impossible.
It wasn’t easy, but I pushed myself. In the end, I persevered and went on to reach my goal.
Completing this race must be right up there as one of the biggest accomplishments in my life.
Click ‘Play’ button to watch video [10 mins].
I’m not sure if I’m going to do this again. What I’m sure of is that everyone should attempt a marathon at least once in their lives.
You haven’t lived until you physically experienced the pain and sweat running 42km. That feeling you get when you crossed the finishing line – indescribable.
Impossible is nothing and nothing is impossible.
The following day I returned to Kuching a brand new person, with a renewed confidence, ready to take on the world – as soon as my legs are healed of course.
If I could do it, there’s no reason why you couldn’t do too. 😉
I have a lot to say about the recent furore over the Prophet Mohammed cartoons which were published in a Danish paper and reprinted worldwide.
I have a lot MORE to say after the Sarawak Tribune, a major local newspaper had its license indefinitely suspended by the government for doing its job by reporting balanced, factual news.
I wrote an entry defending both sides, but I changed my mind and with a click of a button, deleted the said entry and banished my thoughts into the oblivion of my desktop Recycle Bin.
Yep. I decided that I’m not going to say anything about this issue at all.
See, I’ve learnt that by talking about anything remotely related to cultural and religious practices here isn’t gonna help achieve anything but bringing me threats, personal attacks and ISA detentions. And so, I censor myself and shut up. Because hey, it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what the big boys in Putrajaya and Bukit Aman think right?
It’s wonderful living in this country. You don’t need to have an opinion, you don’t need to think, you don’t need to speak. You just sit on your damn asses and follow the masses.
Like sheep we are.
I always find it ironic that I a lot more Malay friends and learnt so much about Islamic culture living in Australia than I ever did in my 15 years in Malaysia. I could misinterpreted Muslim customs from time and time, and they’re always nice enough to explain to me without the personal attacks.
We communicate, we compromise, we correct each other. From there, we learn.
You know what’s wrong with this country?
We’re ignorant. We don’t know each other well enough.
Some of us are NOT sensitive enough. Others are TOO sensitive to the point where even the slightest misunderstanding is an opportunity for them to cause an uproar, wreak havoc, and force the victim into career suicide.
If you say something that inadvertently offended a group of people because you’re not careful, EVEN IF THE INTENTION TO CAUSE HARM AND MALICE IS NOT THERE, you’ll be shamed, locked up in jail or violently put away.
That’s the problem with this country. We’re too sensitive, too easily offended, too vindictive. We hardly look at things in context because we’re engrossed in teaching other people a lesson. There’s NO exchange of ideas, NO chance to learn, NO opportunity for compromise. Sometimes you don’t even know what hit you.
You have a mouth, but you can’t speak. The only time you can speak, is when people want you to duck their sicks. If you want to use your mouth for purposes other than ducking sicks, shut up.
We shut up because we don’t wanna offend. We don’t talk about these issues because it’s “sensitive”. And because we don’t communicate, we don’t know. And because we don’t know, over time we become even MORE stupid. This in turn make us even MORE afraid to communicate, which makes us even MORE stupid.
It’s a vicious cycle that’s gonna continue, until the day we become a nation of morons.
Met up with naeboo and her younger brother when they came to town this long holidays.
naeboo = angel trapped inside a devil’s body
naeboo’s brother Kaiser is 17 years old, just finished his SPM exams, has a good-looking boyish face cute enough for me to wanna wither away and melt in a sticky green pool of jealousy.
Anyway, Kaiser got a girlfriend a few months ago. And naeboo was telling me how when she found out, in the back of her mind she’s already planning to sit down and have a nice discussion with him on boy-girl relationships – as all good sisters do.
Little did she know, her baby brother is already an expert in relationships. So expert in fact, that he sports not just one, but TWO GIRLFRIENDS!
kennynaeboochowcowboy! That two-timing bastard!
How the hell does a 17-year-old boy do that? “Leng zhai mah”, he answered. Ta ma de.
Everytime I hear stories of men who have more than one girlfriends, I get the feeling of repugnance and disgust and envy. But mostly envy.
Yes, envy. Who wouldn’t be envious of guys who can have one girl in each arm? After all, one hole is good, but two holes are better than one.
Six holes lagi best
It’s tough enough handling one woman myself. Let alone two. “So which one are you going to spend time with this Valentine’s?” I casually asked him. “Don’t care lah, I just stay at home. Just find an excuse and tell them I don’t have car to bring them out enough liaw”
GOOD. I LIKE.
Guess that means he won’t be eating this opportnistic money-grabbing pizza creation
But I’m still not convinced. “How about gifts? There’s Valentine’s Days, Birthdays, Christmas Days and Anniversaries to take care of. And girls are so materialistic these days. One girlfriend is enough to break my bank. How the heck are you able to afford all those gifts for TWO girlfriends?”
Kaiser opened his eyes big big and screamed “YOU STUPID LAH!”, like I’m the foulest disgrace to all of human race. “You buy them gifts for WHAT?! Spoil them nia. You buy for them once and they’ll always be expecting you to spend on them instead. Don’t buy for them lah, let them buy for you instead! Like me.” he said, pulling out his brand spanking new leather wallet, obviously a gift.
Kaiser said it so matter-of-factly like I was asking him if the Earth is round.
OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M BEING LECTURED TO BY A SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD!
(Halfway through our conversation, Kaiser’s mobile phone beeped and a message from one of his girlfriends came through. It says “saranghae”. SARANGHAE! What the fart!? KOREAN AH!?!?!??)
It’s true, you know. Acting gentlemanly used to be such an appreciated and noble act in the past. Alas, times have changed. Girls these days are too pampered and spoilt beyond recognition. Nothing else seems to satisfy their increasing apetite anymore.
All these while I’ve been thinking driving girls around, spending all my free time with them and paying for their dinner is the mark of a true gentleman. Bollocks. Put a woman on an island with a hopeless romantic and scruffy rocker, she’ll end up with the scruffy rocker, even if he’s only capable of saying few sweet words and cares for nothing more than himself.
That’s not to say hopeless romantics won’t get the girl. They will – only those stupid brainless giggly girls who say “yes” to everything lah. The hotter ones tend up end up with guys who have gentlemen qualities of a dead tree branch.
Nowadays, it seems as if the more attention we pay on girls, the more they think it is their god-given right to have that. You give her silver, she asks for gold; you give her gold, she asks for platinum; you give her platinum, she asks for DOUBLE platinum.
It’s a vicious never-ending cycle, and us men are always on the losing end.
If we pay less attention to them, they’ll work harder to get on our good side. So come on now, my brothers! We don’t HAVE TO let our women walk all over us! After all, they’re the ones who said “nan reng bu huai, nu ren bu ai” (men who aren’t bad, girls will not like). See? They asked for it!
If being gentlemenly means we’ll continue to be unappreciated, man I say forget about it. I’m gonna go become a bad boy now. 🙂
