Category: Favourite Entries

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.

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.

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.

Fuck Melbourne. Have You Seen The Kuching Shuffle?!

THE TIME…   Sunday, 24th April 2005.
THE PLACE…  outside Hock Lee Centre.

Security guards… what are they laughing about? Why aren’t they doing their job?

Something was amiss.
Something wasn’t right.
A grand total of THREE security guards have set up a yellow barricade outside the shopping mall. Normally they’d be scratching their balls waiting for the time to go home. This was not normal. Something big must be happening. What’s going on?
My heart was thumping. My hands were shaking. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead as I approached them slowly in anticipation.
And then I saw it.
I saw…
The Man…
The Machine…
The Phenomenal…


Kuching Shuffle

Behold… the one and only Kuching Shuffler!

Yes that’s right all you Melbourne Shuffling freaks out there. You can take your fancy pants and talcum powder and shove it up your ass. If you think you’ve revolutionalized the clubbing scene, THINK AGAIN. Yeah, yeah, you may have your big-ass dance clubs and your world famous DJs. But I’m telling you, its prime time you FEAR the Kuching Shuffle because dammit we’re taking the world by storm!
What’s this Zouk thing you’re talking about? We don’t need that. All we need is our cheap red shirt, cheap short pants and the cheapest sandals we can find from Bata. Grab the nearest visually-impaired busker with his electronic keyboard, and baby, we’re ready to SHUFFLE.
Kuching Shuffle

The Kuching Shuffler and DJ Blind – the best thing to have happened to the Kuching clubbing scene since Chivas and Green Tea

This is a momentous occasion for clubbers of Kuching and around the world. Which is why is introducing all new ‘maotee-media’ content in the form of downloadable videos!
(You do require Windows Media Player 9 or above to view WMV-format videos. If you haven’t got them installed, get them here. Do let me know if nothing is working.)
What are you waiting for?
Click to watch the ORIGINAL Kuching Shuffle video. (1.56 MB)

Kuching Shuffle
For a limited time only…
The Kuching Shuffle Remix. (2.07 MB)
The Kuching Shuffle Remix (Extended Edition). (6.88 MB)
Cower in fear now stupid Melbourne Shufflers.

Inspiration Alan Salon Review

Alan Salon
Inspiration Alan Salon is arguably the largest hair salon chain in Sarawak. The founder and lead hairstylist Alan Ch’ng first started operations in Miri and, over the next 15 years, opened up 7 outlets in Sarawak and 1 in KL, teaching many up-and-coming hairdressers and earning multiple awards himself in the process.
Alan Salon

Apart from hair salons, Alan also runs two restaurants in Miri, serving specialty dishes such as Roasted Pony Tails, Steamed Braided Buns and Curly Fried Hair.

Alan’s base in Kuching is located at Hock Lee Centre. Prominently displayed at its entrance is a collage of photos featuring Alan’s appearances at various hairshows, as well as photos of him doing the hair of Miss World contestants from a while back. (Gee, I sometimes wish I were doing those Miss World contestants as well.) With such impressive portfolio, I couldn’t help but to entrust them in fixing up the same ol’ hairstyle I’ve been wearing for the past 22 years.

Looks more like a department store than a hair salon

The salon’s interior design is enough to make you feel like a superstar walking into your very own dressing room. They make really good use of colours, lighting and choice of furniture to create that fantastic star-like atmosphere. The place not only looks great but it smells great too. A lot of el-cheapo hair salons out there tend to stink worse than toilets. Not Alan’s.

Why are LCD Monitors required in a hairdressing place? I have no idea.

In the center of the salon is the Color Bar. I pretty sure that has something to do with cashing in on the youth’s penchant to change their hair colour these days.
LCD monitors are everywhere in the salon, some broadcasting MTV and others showcasing slides of the latest products by L’Oreal. Because you’re worth it. 🙂

God knows what service they have for an extra RM20 in their VIP Room

By Kuching’s standards, Alan’s prices is definitely the dearest I’ve seen thus far. I think its still reasonable because you do pay premium prices for premium services, and Alan Salon sure looks like they can deliver premium services.

Who’s that weirdo carrying a digital camera around everywhere he goes?

This is me before my haircut. Scruffy, haggard and unshaven.
Everytime I go to hair salons, I’d opt for a Cut & Wash and there’s a reason for that. After a hard week at work and barely getting enough sleep at home, there’s nothing more satisfying than having your hair washed and pampered by a seasoned professional.
See, usually when you get your hair washed, the hair salon throws in a complimentary a head, neck and shoulders massage as well – and that’s exactly what I’m after. Its true, getting your (upper) head massaged at the hair salon by some sweet young pretty sexy girl is the closest thing you can have to an affair, without actually committing adultery yourself!
Thank God for hair salons! I couldn’t wait. 🙂

What the foot?! Don’t they know that is a no-no to have a guy massaging another guy’s head?! Yalah yalah, I know I’m lucky because at least he’s massaging my upper head and not my lower head. BUT STILL! This is BLASPHEMY!
You know what the freakiest thing is?
He had the audacity to ask me, “So how? Is it hard enough for you?”
I almost ran away with shampoo still on my head.

Why does it seem like he’s enjoying the massage more than I am?

To his credit, his massage was good. I’m not saying I enjoyed it. But its good lah ok? Got power.
I’ve seen people rate restaurants and movies etc like they rate hotels – ie, they give them how many stars out of 5 stars. I’m tempted to use the same rating system for the massage. But then I thought, it shouldn’t have to be that complicated. In my opinion, a massage could only be rated into 3 grades:
(A) “Good.”
(B) “Average.”
(C) “Oi, you first day at work ah?!”
In this case, I’d say “Good.” But since they used a guy instead of a girl, I shall demote them to “Average.” Because they’re worth it.
Dimly lit

He said he wanted to ‘plug me’ into the Matrix

So after the shampoo I was led to a dimly lit room under the guise of “rinsing my hair”.
Its partitioned. No one could see us. There’s a place for me to lie down. And then it was just me, and him. I was scared. I should have worn double underwear.
Towel head

I survived the ordeal. My asshole is still a virgin.

Amazingly I turned out unharmed.
I noticed there’s a menu on my table. Apparently Alan Salon serves drinks and snacks to their customers as well. I reckon that’s a nice touch. All the items are reasonably priced. Their café latté for example costs merely RM3. I hadn’t had my caffiene fix for the day so I ordered a latté without hesitation.

Hairstylists must be paid really little. Why else do they look so skinny?

My appointed hairstylist is a professional called McPhee Vu. I was asked if I just wanted a straight haircut. Normally I’d say yes, but considering I’m paying so much for a premium hair cut, I replied “No lah. Feel free to do whatever you want to do with my hair. Be creative.”
As soon as I uttered those words, I looked at some of the hairstyles the staff there are sporting. And I regretted almost immediately.

George Michael’s long lost son sighted in Kuching

SHIT! If he made me look like that THEN HOW?!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the café latté I ordered was served. And I could not believe my eyes.

Worst. Coffee. Ever.

Excuse me… What is a plastic spoon and a straw doing in my hot coffee? Why is my coffee lukewarm? Why is it served on a juice glass? You think I’m ordering ‘oleng juice’ is it?! I’m sorry but this is the sorriest excuse for a latté ever!
Goddammit if you don’t know what a café latté is, don’t put it on your menu. Its like going to a restaurant to eat Peking Duck and they serve you KFC instead. DOUBLE BLASPHEMY!!!

I had no idea what McPhee had up his sleeves.

Its a scary feeling having a haircut with absolutely no idea what I might end up looking like. My hair was at his mercy. Fifteen minutes later McPhee came up with a spiky hairdo – a drastically different hairstyle than the one I’m used to.
I’m not sure if I like it. I’m not even sure if I can get used to it. Its gonna feel odd not needing to comb my hair when I wake up in the morning.

Why do I always seem to have more hair after a haircut?!

Here’s a comparison of the old Kenny versus the new Kenny.
I honestly don’t know what to make of this new hairdo. On one hand I’m comfortable with my old hair, but on the other hand I wanted to try something new.
I reckon the new hairstyle looks funky. Too bad it also makes me look like a lala-zhai who spends 16 hours a day in arcade gaming centres. All I gotta do is dye my hair bright blond, wear a my shirt unbuttoned halfway, install some shiny silver accessories on me and I’d be well on my way to lalazhai-dom.

“KNN! CCB! What?! See what see?! Wanna fight ar!?”

What do you think?

Malaysia Airlines Unveils New Uniforms

Everybody knows how much I “love” my local newspapers. Well, one thing I “love” more than the newspapers here are the MPs who feed on our tax ringgits. Take for example the news article below.

(Excerpt from The Borneo Post, 18th April 2005)

Before you continue reading, I advise you to drink a glass of cold water and make sure that the fire blowing out from your nose is not burning your keyboard into flames.
Well I don’t think I need to say anything more on this “sexy dressing is inviting people to rape you” issue. To say its the woman’s fault she gets raped because she wore a low cut blouse, is like saying its YOUR FAULT you get sodomised because you have an asshole.

The MP talked so much bullshit she had to put on her oxygen mask.

Yes, next time I’m just gonna press the “Call Attendant” button and when the air stewardess comes around I’m just gonna rip her clothes off and fondle her breasts, then scold her for making me so horny.
Now if you think about it, the Baju Kebaya isn’t really that low-cut anyway. At least the collar is still quite tight, so when the stewardess bend over no “juicy details” is revealed.
I mean, lets compare our air stewardesses that to Singapore. Once I was onboard an SQ flight when the air stewardess bent over to serve me my dinner-on-tray.
Guess what? I thought she was serving me an extra two buns!

Ladies and gentlemen. Study the subject carefully. THIS is the reason behind our rising sex crimes.

I always like the cabin crew of Malaysia Airlines. I know many people who complained how some of their flight attendants mistreated some poor passenger, but the fact is that these are just a few bad apples among a basket full of good ones. Personally I’ve met some bitchy ones but most of them are really nice, accommodating and professional so I think they’re actually doing a great job.
However I’m just not a big fan of their management team. See, its especially difficult to like them after they fired one of their leading air stewardess just because she’s pregnant. And I wonder why they fired a pregnant lady because CLEARLY she won’t be contributing towards any rape case.

Whoops! There it goes. Some just got raped because this stewardess swung her hair in a sexy manner.

But anyway, a little bird told me that due to that Barisan Nasional MP’s comments, Malaysia Airlines is working through day and night madly trying to create their new uniforms. Rumors has it that these uniforms will ‘gerengtee’ to solve all the issues associated with that evil rape-inducing figure-hugging low-cut Baju Kebaya. I was told, thanks to these new uniforms, that rape claims will drop, male passengers will be more comfortable and everybody can live happily ever after.
What’s more? They could be ready next time you choose to fly with Malaysia Airlines!
As usual brings you the first sneak peek at the NEW Malaysia Airlines uniform. 😉



Yep, I bet our skies will be a much safer place then. Amen.

The Hustlergate Scandal

This entry is not-safe-for-work, so make sure your boss, workmates, husband, wife, sister, brother, children and doggie are not around you before you continue reading.
I hate the Malaysian blogging community sometimes. Seriously I hate it.
I look at Singapore’s blogging community and I see the constant cracking of jokes, parodies, laughter, and harmless sarcarsms. I look at the blogging community I’m in and I see everyone writing so seriously. We take things too personally. Flaming in comment boxes loh, blog wars loh, scandals loh. Geez, where’s your sense of humour guys? Lighten up a bit, respect one another, lay back and relax.
A scandal rocked the Malaysian blogging community over the weekend. A scandal so big it made people think twice about the honesty of the blogs they read. A scandal so dirty it made Bill Clinton look like Mother Theresa. A scandal I’d like to call…
*cue CSI theme music*
What is the Hustlergate Scandal? Well if you haven’t yet heard it, come here, sit down on uncle Kenny’s lap, and let me tell you a story.
*Flashback to a long, long time ago…*
The Hustler Diaries
The Hustler Diariesis arguably Malaysia’s most popular erotic blog. The blog is (supposedly) authored by a middle-aged anonymous man and features stories not of himself, but about other people’s sex lives. Its entries are very saucy and in many ways comparable to Sarong Party Girl’s blog for all you Singaporeans out there. The Hustler Diaries was the runner-up of the (somewhat unreliable) 2004 Asia Blog Awards in the Malaysian Category – an award that the author proudly displays on his site.
Let me make one thing clear. I’m not a frequent reader of that blog, The Hustler Diaries. The blog is not in my bookmarks, its not in my links.
Its not because the blog is bad, because clearly it is not. I don’t read it regularly because well… I hardly get any “action” over here, so I tend to get very very depressed when I read about other people’s colourful sex lives. *sniff*
But I digressed.
A while ago The Hustler posted up a series of e-mails he purportedly received from his “fans” all over the world, thanking his blog for the improvement in their sex lives. These series of emails also include photos of near-naked female bodies as a “thank you gift” to the author.
I’ve read the entries that published those e-mails. The Hustler has the habit of keeping the identities of people who e-mailed him anonymous so no one but The Hustler himself knows if the they are real.
Personally I doubt the veracity of those e-mails because I don’t think anyone would willingly send explicit photos of themselves (or their girlfriends), whilst giving full permission for the blogger to put them up.
But I might be wrong, so please send all your sexy photos to
The first e-mail was from a guy called Henry who forwarded explicit pictures of his girlfriend Susan from the United States. Susan sent those pictures to Henry so that whenever they are apart, Henry can have a sexy picture of Susan to wank to.
A few days later, The Hustler posted up another entry about an email he received from a Faye of Singapore. Faye also sent in a provocative picture of herself for The Hustler and encouraged him to post it up for his readers’ enjoyment.
What happened next became chaotic. A sharp-eyed reader pointed out the background of the Susan-of-USA picture matches the background of Faye-of-Singapore picture. Shit, how come no one else noticed that? Obviously everyone was busy staring at her boobs!
Titles like “Hustler Fake Diaries” and “Hustler Busted” dominated the Malaysian blogging community. Words spread like wildfire and eventually the award-winning blogger was forced to delete those guilty entries and went into hiding. A fierce debate ensued. On one side, people openly criticised The Hustler for deliberately deceiving his readers for the sake of traffic. Others (myself included) stood by The Hustler’s side, stating that he should have the creative freedom to write whatever he wants and that people must be too naive to believe what he wrote was 100% true.
If you ask me I think the whole thing is blown out of proportion in a typical Malaysian manner (like those banned LRT ads).
I can see what The Hustler’s detractors are saying – the fact that he made up artificial stories for traffic. That I agree. Blog readers are smart cookies who do not like to be deceived. Its as if The Hustler was playing on his readers’ gullability.
Obviously, if readers find out that my name wasn’t really Kenny, or if the guy in the photos wasn’t me, or if the size of my balls wasn’t bigger than those coconuts (NOT TRUE) I think they would be outraged. And rightfully so.
But one thing that needs to be pointed out is that The Hustler Diaries is not a run-of-the-mill personal blog per se. The Hustler rarely writes about himself, if ever. All his stories are “things I’ve heard from a friend of a friend, or from a workmate at the pub”. Entertaining? Yes. Unbelievable? Yes. Credible? Hmm… dunno. Does it matter? Fucking-lutely not.
And then there is the fallout. In the aftermath of The Hustlergate Scandal a serious question is raised, “Are what we read on blogs TRUE?”
I’m sorry to break the news to you, but sadly the answer is no.
You see…
My name is not Kenny.
I am not from Kuching.
I am actually female.

Sorry everyone. I just pretended to be some guy called Kenny so I can write an entertaining blog to keep all of you happy. Its time for me to come clean.
Many Malaysian bloggers have wondered why I managed to draw so much readers from Singapore. Well guys, that’s because I’m not actually Kenny from Kuching.
I am Faye from Singapore.
See that picture from The Hustler Diaries?
Now don’t tell me you can’t tell the difference.
Kenny Faye
See? Perfect match. I hope that clears up some confusion.
I’m really really sorry I deceived you all. It was not my intention. I just wanted to write a funny blog that draws traffic. Somehow Faye doesn’t cut it, so I wrote as Kenny from Kuching.
As for Susan… well, that was just a fake name that I adopted to fool my bastard boyfriend Henry. He was a sex maniac and I couldn’t take it anymore. I pretended to have travelled to the USA to avoid him. But I sent him explicit photos of myself just so he could leave me alone. Its true. Susan and I are one person – the person responsible for this FAKE site called
Don’t believe me?
Well, judge for yourself.
I’m sorry I lied to you all. Nothing on this site is real. Never has been. Its all done by the same person called Faye (aka Susan) from Singapore. There is no Kenny. I’m sorry.
Well, now that I’m busted its not fun anymore. 🙁
Sorry I spoilt your dinner, but I memang jiak pah boh su zho. Yes this is a continuation of my April Fool’s spoof. Yes its lame. Yes I know I’ve deliberately embarrassed myself. No please don’t ask me to do it again. 😉
UPDATE: As of 3:20pm on the 19th April 2005, the Hustler Diaries was officially discontinued. To The Hustler, thank you for providing much needed entertainment and raising some “flagpoles” in your male readers over the months that you blogged. I can understand why you decided to stop. Although I wished you could have left under better circumstances, I still wish you all the best in your future undertakings.

Silly News About Prince Charles And Camilla’s Wedding

In case you happen to be living under a rock, Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles finally married last Friday, thus effectively ending Prince Charles’ run as the world’s most eligible bachelor.
Cleo Magazine
I’m not gonna diss Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles’ matrimony. What needs to be said have already been said by others. At the end of the day, I have absolutely nothing against a royal 57-year-old donkey-face marrying a 58-year-old husband-snatcher on the day of Pope John Paul II’s funeral. Its not like what they do has any effect of me anyway.
What I am gonna diss however is the newspaper reports that cover this wedding, sensationalising it to the point of absurdity. Everyone knows that I’m not a big fan of local Malaysian newspapers. The day newspapers here STOP publishing photos of politicians shaking hands at some bloody pretentious VIP event is the day I’ll celebrate by shaving the hair off my legs and cook soup with it.
But this one is just beyond ridiculous. Have a look at this headline from
The original story was from News of the World. In case that link doesn’t work, I’ve mirrored the page here.
An excerpt reads: “We hired professional lip-reading experts who spent two hours decoding exactly what was said as the bride and groom walked down the stone stairs to face photographers.”
PROFESSIONAL LIP-READING EXPERTS? I can so imagine a couple of nerds with thick glasses practically glueing their face to the TV monitor for two full hours trying to decode what they’re saying.
The entire article focuses on how cold the Queen was towards Camilla based on the following series of captioned photos. I’ve editted the captions into the pictures for better readability.
Gee, I wonder how much they’re paying these so-called “professional lip-reading” experts to write a couple of crappy lines that MAY or MAY NOT be what the royal family said. I mean, who’s watching right? For all I know they could be playing Solitaire for two hours before they come up with some smart-arse guesses as to what the royal family was possibly saying.
To steal a quote from William Hung, I have no professional training in lip-reading. But what I can do is spend 2 minutes instead of 2 hours “decoding” what they’re trying to say.

See?! The Queen LOVES Camilla Parker-Bowles!
So much for professional lip-readers. 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
Did you look at the way Prince Charles and his mother looked at each other? I swear that’s not the way a mother and son would look at each other! I don’t know about you but I think there might be something more to their so-called mother-and-son relationship.

Rude version
Stupid professional lip reading experts – think they know everything, but I know better.

“Si Qian Jin” (4 Little Golden Princess) VCD Review

When I was in Sibu, I saw this.
Sibu video
When I got back to Kuching, I saw this.
Kuching video
So, I did what any man would do under such proliferate advertising, and I bought this.
CD Cover
Which shall be our subject of review today.
Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t think this day is gonna come. I’ve been waiting to review this CD ever since the day I got back to Malaysia. *evil smirk*
So I inserted the VCD into the player, and then the horror began.
Popping out


Shit. There are SO many things wrong with this music video I don’t even know where to start.
Perhaps an introduction.
For those fortunate enough to never have endured the relentless assaults of these girls’ shrieking voices during Chinese New Years in Malaysia, consider yourself lucky. The name of the band is Si Qian Jin (‘Si’ = Four, ‘Qian Jin’ = Princess). Their official name in English is Four Little Golden Princess as shown on the CD sleeve. Nevermind the fact that ‘princess’ should be plural, because in this country its important to teach children bad Engrish.
Back CD Cover
Their latest release is a CD+VCD combo album called Dong Pin Xi Cou, which implies some sort of musical East Meets West thing. Unsurprisingly, all the tracks are remixes of Chinese and English oldies like “Mamma Mia”, and “Jambalaya”.
Si Qian Jin is a girl group made up of four prepubescent teenage chio bus who called themselves Hong-er, Jun-er, Kai-er and Ming-er.
I think they’re missing Fuck-er.
Thick Makeup
I assume these girls are teenagers. To be honest, I couldn’t really tell their age since their faces are always buried underneath thick crappy makeup. Excuse me, but you DO NOT put heavy eyeliners and thick foundations on 15 year olds and expect them to look pretty. Heavy make ups are reserved for drag queens and prostitutes, so unless you’re trying to market these girls as prostitutes, goddammit please EASE UP on the MAKE UP!
Bad clothing
And then there’s the clothes. WHAT THE FISH were they thinking dressing up in clothes like that?! That’s just wrong, man, so so so wrong. I can understand they’re trying to look cute and all, but… mini polka-dotted skirts with three-quarter LEOTARDS? Makes me wonder if they trying to sell this video to the torture chamber in Abu Ghraib or something.
Alright, so you said “Aiyo Kenny you so bad. Its not their fault they dressed up like that watttttt!”. Ok ok ok ok fineeee. Then whoever made them dress up like that deserves to have his penis made into pretzels. To have four innocent children dressing up in clothes like that is not just a crime against fashion, its friggin’ CHILD ABUSE!
Actually, I think they look like Teletubbies.
Heh. Uncanny!

Then there were the dances, or rather the lack thereof.

That’s not dancing. That’s four colourful coconut trees singing.

These girls move like robots. I’ve seen trees swaying outside my house that’s more entertaining than that. The funny thing is that these girls can sway continuously for the entire video and never get sick of it. I think their producers probably told them that if they ever stop swaying like a clock, their watch wouldn’t move forward.
The entire music video focuses on these four girls parading around happily. Perhaps a little too happy. Over-enthusiasticly happy. So happy in fact, I’m starting to suspect “recreational substance” blog may have something to do with the production of this video.

Si Qian Jin supports gays and lesbians in Malaysia

If dressing up in matching bright-coloured clothes like that doesn’t induce vomit, I tell you what will: 8-year-olds in thick make ups trying to act cute.
Act Cute
What the fork are you trying to imitiate, a RETARD? ‘cos if you are, then congratulations, you’re successful in annoying the hell out of me. Now go back to the mental hospital.

Man, I can’t believe I spent the past one hour reviewing this crappy VCD. What a total waste.
To save time, I’m just going to write my conclusion to this review right away.



Thank you for reading.

If you happen to be a fan of this particular girl band and think that my review is harsh. I’m sorry. Sorry that your taste in music is that bad. I’ve got nothing personal against Hung-er Jun-er Kai-er Ming-er and Fuck-er because they’ve never did me any to me (other than unleashing their weapons of mass destruction on me every Chinese New Year).
To their credit, they do have great voices that’s sweet, crisp and naturally melodic. But you know what, there’s only so much ‘ji-ge-long-tong-chiang-dong-chiang’, coconut-tree-like dance moves and overenthusiastic fake smiles a man can take before he goes berserk. I reckon they should do themselves and ourselves a favour, dump their record company and give us a chance to breathe.