The Wake

Gee, what a long day it was yesterday.
White sleeve

A piece of white cloth is pinned onto my sleeve

In between chanting gibberish that is the Buddhist prayers, I’m totally lost when it comes to the customs we have to follow. I’m thankful for the many nice people around helping us out worrying about logistics and ensuring everything goes on smoothly while we’re mourning. I’m not the most religious person but saying my prayers certainly helped instill tranquility in the face of tragedy.
Still, watching my father slowly being placed into the casket was the most heart-wrenching thing I have to endure.
Coffee

Dear papa, here’s your coffee the way you like it. Long black, three-quarter glass, no sugar.

I’m awed and overwhelmed by messages of condolences I’ve received in the virtual world as well as those in real life. It just goes to how much of a great man my father was before his passing and how large a void he had left in everyone’s hearts. Wreaths presented to my father by his friends and families came in by the truckloads throughout the day. There’s so many flowers in our yard right now we can easily start a business as a florist. Believe it or not, this was only half of everything.
Wreaths

The next day, Kuching experienced a severe flower shortage

Alright, I shall leave this entry short, sweet and unsentimental. I’m amazed I still haven’t taken time off blogging completely. I shall reply to comments and e-mails only after everything is over, ok? Don’t worry. I still have strength to carry on. At least I think I do.
As for now, another long day awaits. The funeral day.

The Last 25 Hours

Things that I remember in the last 25 hours…

White

4th May 2005, 1:30am. I walked into my father’s room ready to begin another round of my so-called ‘night duty’. Y, a friend and workmate of my father for 20+ years was present along with DM, another workmate. A Buddhist hymn was playing on the radio.

2:30am. DM left. I checked my father’s body temperature and fed him some water. 37.5 Celcius. Dad was breathing heavily, but still stable and responsive. I didn’t think too much about it. For the rest of the night Y and I talked, reminiscing memories of my father. I thought to myself – its so nice to have someone to accompany me like that.

6:00am. Mom woke up, surprised to see Y still there. She thanked Y, then Y left.

7:30am. My maternal uncle visited. He looked upset. He sat down beside my father, then started to sing softly. My father responded by turning his head and looking at him knowingly. “Get well soon. Wake up and hear the magpies sing.” my uncle said.

I went to bed at 8:15am.

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1:48pm. I was woken up by a phone call. As soon as I answered, I heard a frantic knock on my door asking me to go to my father immediately. I apologised to the caller profusely and ran to my father’s room.

I walked into his room. My father was no longer breathing.

It drizzled the whole day yesterday.

I struggled back emotions.

I touched my father’s hand. It felt cold. The kind of cold you feel when you touch someone who just came out of an air-cond room. Cold. Lifeless.

Reality struck. My father is gone. Nothing will ever bring him back. Absolutely nothing at all.

I cried.

20050505-2.jpg

I remember it drizzled the whole day yesterday.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m not the most melodramatic person around. And I can’t write sappy poems to save my life. But the account above was the best I can do in my current state of mind.

The past 12 hours has been a long and difficult one. I’m overwhelmed with emotions, mostly sadness and anger. I’m still trying to swallow in the fact that I lost my father, that he will no longer be with me to continue on with my journey of life. This reality is hard to accept. I’m still struggling.

20050505-3.jpg

Nothing left but his indentation

I’ve read every single comment here, and I thank each and everyone of you for leaving kind comments and words of encouragement. Its especially heartwarming to hear from strangers and friends alike, from places as close to Kuching and from places as far as Australia, UK, US. I’m touched that some of you even dedicated entries on your blog for me. Somehow it makes going through the past 12 hours a little bit easier.

To my Kuching readers – I understand that my privacy may be compromised following my father’s passing. As always, I ask that you respect my privacy. Please do not disclose any unnecessary information about my family or my job. Please do not disclose the existence of this blog to anyone else in Kuching. Most importantly, do not mention to any of my family members what you read here. Please, leave them out of it. As odd as it sounds, I rather as little people in Kuching know about my blog as possible, because I know Kuching is a small place and I know how hurtful mindless gossips can be. I enjoy writing. I’m sure many, including you, enjoy reading. Please do not be a bad sport and spoil it for us all.

Candle

Grief

Eddie commented, saying that he looks forward to me writing humourously again. I hope I will. I’m sure I will. But not right now. kennysia.com will be a sad and sombre place for a while, only because the writer himself is feeling sad and sombre. But I promise you Eddie, I will try to make myself laugh. Then I’ll try to make you laugh again. Eventually.

I thank you all for giving me strength to get through this very very difficult time.

Black and White Photos

So here I am at 7am in the morning for another late shift for the fourth night in the row. Fourth night that my father is in a half-conscious state. The good thing is, the rest of my family has more or less recovered from their respective illnesses and are therefore able to lift the burden off my shoulders a little. The bad thing is, my body clock is so fucking screwed up I think I need to send myself to the watch repair shop.

holding on

My old man is still holding on

The only reason I’m doing the late night shift is because I’m unable sleep the normal hours anymore after four days of sleeping at 8am and waking up at 3pm. Funny. Last time I did that was after a drunken night out partying at the Varga Lounge back in Perth.

varga

I think this was more fun.

I went through my father’s old photo album today.

WRONG PASSWORD ENTERED.

The rest of this entry was removed due to privacy issues. If you still like to read it please send me an e-mail.


Password:


Its always interesting to do something like that. Seriously, there’s nothing like watching your own parents sporting some horrendously bad fashion that would make you cringe if someone were to wear the same thing today.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is a very cliche thing for our parents to say to us “In our days, we didn’t have it so easy…” But in my father’s case, I totally believe him.

kampung

No bricks and mortar – 12 years growing up in a Kampung like this

In the early 50s, there’s a small Malay kampung near Kuching called Kampung Penambai. Six families were living in this kampung, and the Sia family was the only Chinese one there. My grandparents worked for a charcoal company for long hours but got paid very little. If it weren’t for circumstances that forced my father to move to Kuching, hey, I might be still typing this entry from a shack in Kampung Penambai.

In amongst his siblings, my father, being the eldest, was the de facto leader of the house. As feared as he was, he genuinely cared for his siblings and provided them with opportunities they never thought they could have. Even 50 years later today, he is still seen as a great leader in many people’s eyes.

my dad

Pa, how come you’re using your belt for a necktie?

There weren’t any Chinese schools in Kampung Penambai. In order to receive his primary school education, my father would have to travel down to Kuching on a little sampan boat – the only possible way to get to Kuching then. It would take 4 hours to get to Kuching on a good day, and up to 8 hours on a bad day. My father had spent a good part of the year away from his family whilst he stayed with his aunt in Kuching. The only time he was able to reunite with his family was during school holidays, where my grandmother would cook sumptous feast to welcome my father back.

my dad

My father holding a miniature version of himself. In those days they don’t have Photoshop, so…

It is very characteristic of my father to be hardworking. In the mid-60s, his mother (my grandmother) and younger sisters were working tirelessly at the rubber plantation supporting their family and giving my father money for his education. To alleviate their burden, my father in his spare time would work as a tutor (where I got my tutoring genes!) and as a construction labourer.

There were fringe benefits though. The constuction job got him a six-pack and a tan body, whereas the tutoring job got him my mother. 🙂

my dad

In those days, toilet paper was kinda expensive. Having a long hair had more uses than you think. 😉

My father managed to get himself into all the good schools growing up and he was always scoring number one in his class. At the end of his secondary education in 1971, he was presented with an opportunity to study overseas – a privilege at the time. As tempted as he was with that offer, he turned it down, knowing that the cost of him leaving home would be unbearable for the family.

my dad

My father, at my age, was a high school teacher.

His first professional job out of school was as a teacher for a year – where one of his students ended up as his business partner today. Then for the next nine years he worked as a salesperson for ICI Paints and a aluminium company. In addition to that, he was also selling general insurance on the side.

my dad

An ICI Paints photo in black and white. Oh, the irony…

My father was still dating my mother then. I was told that my mother was his first lover and vice versa.

my dad at cameron highlands

This is from a set of photos he sent to my mother when he was working with ICI Paints in West Malaysia. My father has really nice handwriting. That’s one thing I didn’t inherit from him. 🙁

My father was significantly poorer than my mother’s family back then. My mom told me once they went to the cinemas together. They walked to the cinema’s candy store, and my father asked her what she wanted. My mother happily pointed out the Horlicks candy which costed very little. Being tight-on-budget he hesitated and tried to persuade her to buy something else. But my mother didn’t take it kindly so she ended up pulling a long face for the rest of the evening. I thought was silly, ‘cos now my father would have bought her a swimming pool filled with Horlicks candies if he wanted to.

my parents wedding

In those days, they didn’t have Inspiration Alan Salon to do my dad’s hair.

My parents got engaged in 1973 and 2 years later, he married my mother. I thought my mother looked so pretty in this picture. For some reason I didn’t find her as pretty when she yelled at me for not cleaning up my bedroom. Hmm…

my father's workplace

In those days, they don’t have Internet so you can’t slack off at work reading blogs.

In 1978, my father took a huge risk by mortgaging his house, his car, borrowed a huge sum of money from the bank ot start his own company. I shall not disclose the name and nature of the company and all that. But it was the best move he has ever made. The rest as they say, is history.

The company boomed throughout the 80s and 90s, and he created hundreds of jobs for the people of Kuching. His employees loyalty to him is undeniably his strongest asset. As a matter of fact, his first employee is still working for him even until today.

my father's workplace

Success. My father’s very first car – a Volvo.

I’m born in 1982, and growing up I hate to admit that my time spent with him was little. My father was a self-confessed and true workaholic. He’s so passionate about his line of work, its almost as if his company is his other family. Whilst other people work 9 to 5, my worked 9 to 12 – that’s 12am, not 12pm. The only time we get to spend the full day with him was on Sundays.

my father's workplace

In the early days, my father had to travel to many ulu-ulu places to find business

That does not mean that he neglects his family or anything like that. On the contrary, we know from the things he did for us, that we’re the most important part of his life.

Perhaps my fondest memory of him was when I was in Secondary 3. Exams are coming and every night I’d be in the living room “memorising” my books and notes till 2 or 3am in the morning. My father saw what I was going through. Every night, he’d buy me kolo mee from KY Cafe for supper, ensuring I don’t starve myself late into the night, and also ensuring both my brains and my guts grow large.

my father's workplace

This is what got me through my Secondary 3 examination

I swear to you that’s the best tasting kolo mee I’ve ever had. That’s only because once upon a time, my father personally bought it for me in my time of need. Thank you, dad.

Blog Plug

With things the way they are right now in my life, I’m not sure if I can write with the same sense of humour the way I did before. As a matter of fact, I’m hardly in the mood to write anything at all. The fact that I didn’t even step out of my house these past few days also means that I have very little chance to observe things that I can comment on.
Perhaps for a change, I shall plug some blogs written by people who have been very nice to me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kenneth saw my entry on Project Petaling Street T-shirt Ideas and ran wild with some T-shirt ideas of his own.
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Not true! Kenneth has never seen my big bird.

How nice… he even made one for me!
I was actually hoping that this would spark some T-shirt designing meme across the blogging community. But I don’t think I’m influential enough.
Maybe Jeff Ooi should kickstart somet T-shirt designing meme since he’s like… Malaysia’s Most Influential Blogger and all that la-di-da. Unfortunately I think Jeff Ooi is not talking to me anymore after I made fun of his little bird.
Actually, designing your own T-shirt isn’t that difficult as it sounds. All you gotta do is photoshop an image, upload it to CafePress and download your T-shirt. Even Singapore’s Mr Brown got in on the act and came up with this.
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Strange but true. My haircut led to Mr Brown being criticised for his blog content. Now how many people honestly lay claim to that?

The only reason why I can’t be arsed kickstarting this meme full-scale is because designing a T-shirt isn’t as easy as sticking your tongue out and taking a photo of it. The hardest part is probably coming up with what witty things to put on your T-shirt.
Anyway, for those willing to try, please design your own T-shirt with CafePress , e-mail me and lemme see what you got. 🙂
*cough* Since this isn’t a full-blown meme, I shall call it… mini-meme!

Lame, I know.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Some people have been saying that I’m fast becoming famous, which is silly because we all know that famous people don’t have to pay for anything. I tried asking a chicken rice seller once to give me a free meal and he looked at me strangely like I’m born with three boobs.
At least Rojaks is one of those who think I’m famous.
How famous?
Perhaps as famous as Leonardo Da Vinci’s Monalisa.

Try cracking this Da Vinci code, Dan Brown!

He called it, MonaliSIA.

Condition Critical

WRONG PASSWORD ENTERED.

The rest of this entry was removed due to privacy issues. If you still like to read it please send me an e-mail.


Password:



Bedside

I didn’t sleep last night. In fact I stayed up till 8am this morning. In another mad coincidence of events, everyone in my family had fallen sick with fever, flu and cough – except myself.

My father’s condition is deteriorating to such a critical stage, I feel I need to be by his side. Things just doesn’t look right. I woke up at 3pm today and all I’ve been doing since then is pray.

I can’t write long today. My family needs me.

UPDATE: I grew up in a Buddhist family, although I admit that I’m the least devout one in my family. Over the course of my father’s ordeal, many kind people of other faiths have approached us and wanted to offer us prayers, but they feared that my family would take offense. Some think that if they were to offer us prayers and my father miraculously recovers that he would be forced to convert into another religion and my family wouldn’t like it.

Personally I think that if my father recovers, then that’s the most important thing. It really doesn’t matter what religion you are. It may seem strange when people pray to have Buddha and Jesus and Allah and what not watch over him. But a prayer is a prayer, and a prayer about the only thing we can fall back on right now.

Fuck Melbourne. Have You Seen The Kuching Shuffle?!

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

THE KUCHING SHUFFLER!

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 kennysia.com 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 kennysia.com Remix. (2.07 MB)
and
The Kuching Shuffle kennysia.com 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.
Entrance

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.
Central

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. 🙂
Price

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.
Me

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. 🙂

Cheebye
CHAO CHEEBYE THEY GAVE ME A GUY INSTEAD!
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.
Cheebye

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.
McPhee

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.
Alan

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.
Latte

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!!!
McPhee

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.
Change

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.
Arcade

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

What do you think?

Six Months Ago, Today

Today is the 27th April 2005. No there’s no major festivities going on.
But exactly six months ago on the 27th October 2004, is the day I knew my father contracted cancer. Exactly six months ago, the doctor estimated that my father has six months left to live.
Its been six months and shit, so much has changed already. As of this week, I’ve taken time off work to stay at home and care for my father full time. Reality is a bitch, but hey I’m still coping.
I don’t know whether I should be happy that my father has survived that six months, or feel sad because the worst may be coming near.
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On a totally unrelated note, I’ve created some buttons for kennysia.com just because I feel like it. Yalah yalah I’m hoping that more people would link to me or something. It makes my balls bigger.

80×15
<a href="http://www.kennysia.com"><img src="http://externalimg.kennysia.com/kennysia80x15.gif" width="80" height="15"> </a>

111×30
<a href="http://www.kennysia.com"><img src="http://externalimg.kennysia.com/kennysia111x30.gif" width="111" height="30"> </a>

200×50
<a href="http://www.kennysia.com"><img src="http://externalimg.kennysia.com/kennysia200x50.jpg" width="200" height="50"> </a>

200×50
<a href="http://www.kennysia.com"><img src="http://externalimg.kennysia.com/kennysiab200x50.jpg" width="200" height="50"> </a>

200×214
<a href="http://www.kennysia.com"><img src="http://externalimg.kennysia.com/kennysia200x214.jpg" width="200" height="214"> </a>

Speaking of which, I really should re-design this site. Experienced bloggers would note that the design and layout of kennysia.com don’t differ much from MovableType‘s default settings. When I started, all I wanted to do is to start writing as soon as possible. 10 minutes of Photoshop later, the background and masthead of kennysia.com was born.
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On other site related news, kennysia.com will be moving to a new host this coming weekend. The amount of bandwidth consumed this month alone is ball-shrinking. Its amazing considering the whole entire kennysia.com site is less than 50MB. I’m hoping that the transition will be smooth and sweet, but fingers crossed.
With bigger storage and more generous bandwidth allowance than the current host I’m on, I’m hoping I can showcase content beyond words and images. I captured a pretty funny video last week so I’m really itching to share it with you guys.
Hey, I’m seriously thinking about getting some of those T-shirts printed. 🙂
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Err… proper updates tomorrow, can?
Today cannot make it lah.

Project Petaling Street T-Shirt Ideas

This entry is more of an inside-joke. Apologies in advance to those who don’t know what’s going on.
Project Petaling Street (PPS) is an online portal that aggregates the blogs of Malaysians and foreigners living in Malaysia. Unlike other generic blogging directories that merely list all blogs known, PPS is special in the sense that it automatically updates itself whenever one of its members’ blog is updated. Blogs that are dormant or on hiatus are automatically weeded out. The end result is a dynamic list of the latest Malaysian blog entries on petalingstreet.org
PPS

kennysia.com owes much of its initial success to Project Petaling Street

I’ve been a member of PPS for about four months now. Whilst I appreciate kennysia.com’s success is in large due to word of mouth, the fact is that this site wouldn’t be where it is today if it weren’t for its initial exposure on PPS.
Well, PPS will be celebrating its 2nd anniversary on the 23rd June, and co-founder Aizuddin has called on suggestions as to how to celebrate this momentous occasion. At the moment there seems to be an overwhelming support for the creation of Project Petaling Street T-shirts.
So as a token of appreciation I fired up Photoshop to see what I can come up with. Inspired by Sashi‘s comments, I came up with this geek tee.
PPS T-shirt
Nice?
Well I don’t think its that nice really.
It looks good and all, but I don’t think that T-shirt has captured the essence of Malaysian blogs nor the vibrance of the Malaysian blogging community. True, PPS has brought us great blogs to read. More than that, PPS brought us real time news such as when the Earthquake hits. It also brought us entertaining, sensational real life stories like the Hustlergate Scandal. So here’s one T-shirt to commemorate that occassion.
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One of the most best thing being part of such a fantastic blogging community is that you get to know people you’d probably won’t have a chance to meet under normal circumstances. It feels great knowing that friendships are forged online through blogs and that it sometimes crossed over into real life. One of the nicest people I’ve met through PPS is minishorts, and here’s her dedication to me in case you all missed it. In return, here’s my dedication to her.
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Whilst new friendships are forged through PPS, enemies are made through PPS as well. Over the past four months, I lost count of the number of flames and so-called blog wars I’ve witnessed. Luckily I’ve never been part of them, which is odd considering I write a lot of offensive stuff. Sometimes even posting something as seemingly innocent as criticising other bloggers’ choice of background colour can be flame-inviting, unwittingly sparking harsh “counter-entries” in other blogs.
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And entry about the Malaysian blogging community wouldn’t be complete without a mention of Malaysia’s M.I.B. Jeff Ooi. I got to give him credit. I’ve compared him to Andy Lau and made fun of his tendencies to use ‘little birds’ in his entries and yet he’s sporting enough not to get upset over jokes like that. He has my respect. And for that, I created this girly T-shirt dedicated to him.
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Of course, when compared to our Singaporean counterparts we seem a little lacklustre as don’t really have big-name celebrity bloggers like Mr Brown, Popagandhi or the ever-so-popular XiaXue with her LocalBrand T-shirt endorsement deals and all that. But that’s ok. We’re happy with what we got, right?
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You know what the best thing is? All the items above can be purchased easily from my CafePress store!
Of course I won’t be rushing to order them lah because honestly speaking they’re quite expensive. If it were up to me, I’d wait till someone from the real Petaling Street copy my design, THEN I’ll buy it. 😉
Happy Birthday to the team behind Project Petaling Street, in advance.
From,
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