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    Wednesday, December 31, 2003

    Final Words In 2003
    It's the end of the year. This is when we reflect on the things we've done or did not do during the year and we make resolutions for the new year which we don't really intend to keep. We come up with our "Best Of" and "Worst Of" lists. And then at night, we show off our ability to count backwards to zero at midnight.

    I, on the other hand, do not succumb to such traditions. I like to relax, stay home, and kick back with a puzzle. If I feel saucy, I'll do laundry.

    But wait, I do have a list. I'm calling mine "Things From 2003 That Must Go Away In 2004".

    1 Creepy Baby T-Shirts: Those t-shirts with pictures of babies printed on them but the ear-piercings or nose stud on the baby picture are real. I have one word: Why?

    2 Designer-Workouts: Enough with joining the gym or going for yoga or pilates. Every one seems to be joining a gym in 2003 and I had to hear their righteous health soapbox spiel for two weeks and then surprise, it’s over. But not their gym membership dues.

    3 Polyphonic Ringtones: This is wishful thinking. It will not go away until it's outlawed and banned by law. Do we really need to hear the theme to "Mission: Impossible" when your phone rings? At what point does it stop being annoying and it becomes cool?

    4 Camera Phones: While I'm still on the topic of phones, camera phones should be banned too. It's stupid and silly and was invented by the phone companies to make more money off your silly ass. It serves no purpose other than to annoy people around you and to clog up the phone networks. Until the picture quality of these camera phones improve enough to be printed or be wallpapered on a computer desktop, I'd tell it to go to hell.

    5 Gollum Impressions: So everybody loves "The Lord Of The Rings" but if I hear another person going "my precious", I will bitch-slap his Hobbit-ass back to Middle Earth. (And this will also be the last time I make any references to LOTR.)

    6 Ketchup Trays At McDonald's: I've been having fits of rage since McDonald's did away with their ketchup/chilli sauce packets and brought in its place, the ketchup pump which looks like something a plastic surgeon would use to suck out the fat during liposuction. What I can't stand is the ridiculous 2mm-deep snot holder of a container they give us to hold the ketchup. So I use three containers and then I become the Great Audi, Ketchup Balancer, the new circus act who walks really slow back to his table.

    7 Spanish Soap Operas: This may the very cause of decay of our society. As if there isn't enough crap in English, Chinese, Malay, and Indian, they had to go and get more crap in Spanish. The bigger losers are those who watch these shows, pick up a few Spanish phrases and then think they can hable español.

    8 The Cheeky Girls.

    Sunday, December 28, 2003

    I watched "The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King" again. I really like this movie although I can't help but wonder if they could have made just one movie instead of three. You see, it's long.

    Each movie is long. And to be honest, I fell asleep at each movie but each movie has its moments. And that's when I wake up. Here's a bit of trivia: Peter Jackson, the director, originally pitched one LOTR movie to Miramax. And it was Miramax who suggested three movies.

    I also watched "The Sound Of Music" for the first time on TV today. How our values have changed. It's amazing to me how they managed to get away with musicals back then. I still can't get over bursting out in song in the middle of a conversation. Wait a sec...don't they still have Bollywood movies like that? And gosh, could Julie Andrews be possibly more virginal?
    Last night I had a post-Christmas dinner at Wendy's. She prepared this super meal with lots of food which I won't make myself because it requires more than five steps of food preparation. So we had this "Secret Santa" thing going. I am supposed to write about it since I'm expected to but I won't.

    Christmas day and Christmas eve was quiet for me. I was home watching TV and working. So much fun I had to contain myself. Again, I am amused how many Christmas greetings I received on Dec 25. Perhaps many don't know but I am not a Christian. Sure, I call out to Jesus sometimes but it's not in praise.

    Don't people realise that Christmas is a religious holiday? It's not like National Day or Labour Day. It wouldn't make sense for me to randomly greet people with "Happy Hannukah" or "Happy Kwanza" just because it falls on Dec 25, would it?

    I can only reason that we, as in society at large, are just hung up on the commercial values of Christmas more than anything else. And we get suckered into it as well. Just look at Bangsar on the eve of any holiday; religious or otherwise. Just to satisfy the Malaysian fetish of counting down at midnight, we are willing to pay 20 bucks for Coke and shorten our lifes while increasing the risk of cancer by being sandwiched in a smoky bar. Hey, whatever makes you happy.

    I watched "The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King" again. I really like this movie although I can't help but wonder if they could have made just one movie instead of three. You see, it's long.

    Each movie is long. And to be honest, I fell asleep at each movie but each movie has its moments. And that's when I wake up. Here's a bit of trivia: Peter Jackson, the director, originally pitched one LOTR movie to Miramax. And it was Miramax who suggested three movies.

    I also watched "The Sound Of Music" for the first time on TV today. How our values have changed. It's amazing to me how they managed to get away with musicals back then. I still can't get over bursting out in song in the middle of a conversation. Wait a sec...don't they still have Bollywood movies like that? And gosh, could Julie Andrews be possibly more virginal?
    Last night I had a post-Christmas dinner at Wendy's. She prepared this super meal with lots of food which I won't make myself because it requires more than five steps of food preparation. So we had this "Secret Santa" thing going. I am supposed to write about it since I'm expected to but I won't.

    Christmas day and Christmas eve was quiet for me. I was home watching TV and working. So much fun I had to contain myself. Again, I am amused how many Christmas greetings I received on Dec 25. Perhaps many don't know but I am not a Christian. Sure, I call out to Jesus sometimes but it's not in praise.

    Don't people realise that Christmas is a religious holiday? It's not like National Day or Labour Day. It wouldn't make sense for me to randomly greet people with "Happy Hannukah" or "Happy Kwanza" just because it falls on Dec 25, would it?

    I can only reason that we, as in society at large, are just hung up on the commercial values of Christmas more than anything else. And we get suckered into it as well. Just look at Bangsar on the eve of any holiday; religious or otherwise. Just to satisfy the Malaysian fetish of counting down at midnight, we are willing to pay 20 bucks for Coke and shorten our lifes while increasing the risk of cancer by being sandwiched in a smoky bar. Hey, whatever makes you happy.

    Tuesday, December 16, 2003

    Bye Grandpa!

    T'was an interesting day. We buried my grandfather today.

    Needless to say, it is an experience I won't forget. We started the day at 8.30 in the a.m. with a lot of people at the funeral parlour, including the she-monk who was here the night before. To cut a long story short, we prayed, she-monk chanted, there were kneelings, sitting, and butt-clenching (my ass?, hard as a rock!), more chanting, I nailed the coffin, kinda did the jig, got onto the mourning bus filled with mourners in the morning, went to the hill, more praying and chanting (those monks sure know how to drill a song into your head!), got rice and beans thrown on me, got myself a facial steam from the fire burning the fake house and the Mercedes with the Michelim tyres, removed my socks, and got my a ticket to hell for the unnecessary and inappropriate comments I made during the whole process. ("When I'm dead, I'd like to be marinated with BBQ sauce and then cremated.") And then there's this blog entry.
    And as if I was not getting enough from my mother's side, my aunts had to bring up the fact that as the oldest grandson representing the third generation, I did not make my grandfather a great grandfather. Oooh...this is new!!!

    I almost wanted to tell them that I am gay or that I only have one nut, therefore greatly reducing my sperm count. But I figured thëy wouldn't get it. Although, I did meet a nice girl there. I'm waiting for my cousin to hook us up and hope that she is not related to me.
    And of course, my father had to do the encore reminding to get married before it's "too late". So, I proposed to Pam just now and asked her to shoot a couple of kids out for me.

    I'm disappointed with myself for not taking the time to know my grandfather. We all say this about people we lose but then we take for them for granted when they are around. But I think life is fair process. My grandfather's passing serves as a reminder to not let the same missed opportunity happen with my parents. Life is short. Go start my record label. Visit my grandmother more often. Most importantly, have a good headshot of yourself for the tombstone. (And remember, it's not the camera that makes you look fat. It's the fat that makes you look fat.)

    I'm sure we all know this. This is so "Cats In The Cradle." Three months later, this will be nothing but a memory and I'll be back in the rat race until someone I know and/or love dies. I must change.

    By the way, blogged on the iPAQ.

    Wednesday, December 10, 2003

    It’s day four! After three long days of sitting around doing nothing but folding, we finally had a break in the monotony. We had the pre-burial prayers. Man, that was fun.
    We all had to sit on the floor and listen to this lady monk (who, by the way, has the same hair style as I do), chant for about 15 minutes. After that, we turn and she chants some more. Then we walk around the coffin a few times. She chants some more. Then we stop.
    We stop. After 20 minutes, we do it all over again. And again.

    That's three times.

    With all that sitting, I did managed to squeeze in a few hundred butt clenches.
    Other than that, it was as interesting as watching a 80GB hard drive defragment. (Geek alert!)

    Tomorrow we bury my grandfather.

    The Funeral Day 4

    It’s day four! After three long days of sitting around doing nothing but folding, we finally had a break in the monotony. We had the pre-burial prayers. Man, that was fun.
    We all had to sit on the floor and listen to this lady monk (who, by the way, has the same hair style as I do), chant for about 15 minutes. After that, we turn and she chants some more. Then we walk around the coffin a few times. She chants some more. Then we stop.
    We stop. After 20 minutes, we do it all over again. And again.

    That's three times.

    With all that sitting, I did managed to squeeze in a few hundred butt clenches.
    Other than that, it was as interesting as watching a 80GB hard drive defragment. (Geek alert!)

    Tomorrow we bury my grandfather.

    Tuesday, December 09, 2003

    The past few days have turned out to be eventful and yet uneventful at the same time.

    First, I finally made up my mind and took the plunge. I got an iPaq last Saturday. I am not sure if I really need a PDA, given my line of work but I love how it looks. I am not to thrilled about Windows CE but I am quite confident Microsoft will continue to make it better. The PalmOS on the other hand, didn't excite me too much.

    Later that day, my grandfather died. Which was ironic because earlier in the day, Pam tells me her grandfather passed away. Sigh.

    So, off I go to Melaka that evening. And I'm still here in Melaka! Basically, we are hanging out at the funeral parlour waiting for the burial. It has been an experience. Let's put it this way. I have mastered the art of sitting around doing nothing.

    Which also brings me to my next observation. I believe the so-called traditions and customs in Chinese funerals are all made up by the people who sell the stuff you need in a Chinese funeral.
    And the traditions. Gosh...the traditions. I'm held up by traditions given that I am the oldest grandson and the son of the oldest son of my grandfather. I feel like I am being prepared for something.

    But the traditions....

    I can't go to parties or "enjoy myself too much" for the next 100 days. Frankly, I welcome this one since I managed to get myself out of a wedding dinner. But it also means, no Chinese New Year for me.

    I am also the reluctant vegetarian for the next five days. I'm in the second day and I'm starting to be like one of those cartoon characters when two of them are floating adrift on a raft in the middle of the ocean. And when I look at someone's pet chicken (they have chickens for pets in Melaka :-), I see it as a roast chicken ready to eat.

    This is also where my definition of what a vegetarian is expands each day.
    And to top it all of, I'm thinking about my plants in KL since no one is watering them.
    The pus-bucket award will go to my notebook catching a virus.

    I guess the plus side was that the whole event was not as sad as I'd expected it to be. Largely because my dad (being the oldest son) was quite cool about it. It was subdued mourning. There were smiles and laughter. My grandfather lived to 84. He died peacefully. We can be thankful for that.

    Friday, December 05, 2003

    This is one of those things that will make me sound like a dolt.
    Did you know that green chillies will become red chillies over time?
    Yes! What a revelation it is for me.
    So, green turns red and it gets hotter. All this while, I thought green and red chillies were from different plants.
    Which brings me to my next thought as to whether it works the same with apples.
    "I want to have a boob job so bad that it's not funny!"
    "I want to vommit so bad that it's not funny!"
    Who came up with that line? And why so many people tend to use it? The "'s not funny" part. Do people actually think it's a cool line to use?
    I think it would be funnier if someone said "I want gravy so bad that I could poke my eye out."
    But "'s not funny", I don't get.
    Why would they think that the other person would find it funny in the first place. I think this is one of the lamest lines of the 20th century right up there with "Big Time!" and Mariah Carey's dog-frequency high-pitched pig squeals.
    Could someone enlighten me? I want to be enlightened so bad that it's not funny.

    Thursday, December 04, 2003

    There is this Citibank credit card commercial on TV. This newly-wed couple goes on their honeymoon and the hot babe goes on a shopping spree. And she flashes her gold card and acknowledges that her credit card allows her to live the life.

    What a load of crock!

    I can't stand how banks are promoting credit cards in Malaysia. They make it sound like its free money and it's their ticket to the good life.

    Come on. We are Malaysians. The fact of the matter is, by and large, we have been so sheltered that we don't know how to manage our finances. And now, we have these banks irresponsibly telling us we all need credit cards.

    It is only a matter of time before our society become a nation in debt. And we'll be paying that debt for the rest of our lifes.

    Say if you have a RM5000 balance. And you are paying RM200 a month because you it makes you feel good that you are paying slightly more than the minimum required. At the usual rate of 2% interest per month, you would have ended up paying about RM7000 in 35 months. That's about RM2000 in interest. And on the condition that you NOT use the card anymore.
    But I am sure you already knew that.

    Why don't these banks ask that the consumer just bend over and so they can shaft a metal pole up their ass?

    Friday, November 28, 2003

    It is still happening. I get a call from a friend wishing me a happy belated birthday.

    Other Person: Happy belated birthday.
    Me: Thanks.
    Other Person: I'm sorry I missed your birthday.

    This has happened enough times for me to know what the next statement is.

    Other Person: Why didn't you tell me?

    Why is it that whenever we forget someone's birthday, we say "Why didn't you tell me?"

    As if people go around telling it's their birthday. Well, I guess some people do that. But most people don't. And if they did, we'd think he is shameless.

    So, instead of saying "Why didn't you tell me?", just fess up when you forget someone's birthday.

    Just say, "Yes, I forgot your birthday because you are insignificant to me and not worthy of my time, money, or attention."

    If that's not true, then say something like "Yes, I forgot your birthday because I am a fucking dolt. I will make it up to you by buying expensive gifts."

    Plain and simple.

    Thursday, November 27, 2003

    When you think about it, our celebration of birthdays is quite misdirected. A person celebrates the day he/she was born. And we do it every year on the same day. Technically, it's not so much a "birthday" as it is an anniversary of your arrival at this planet.
    I think the person who deserves the birthday celebration is the mother. After all, she did all the work. She gave me rent-free use of her uterus for nine months. That’s food AND lodging. All I did was show up. I checked out when things got a little crowded. And if that isn’t enough, she still offered 24/7 after-birth support.
    So, all props to mom. Happy birthday mom!
    I am heading down south on the North-South highway and I see this huge billboard advertising the new "Kuala Lumpur Infrastructure University College" or the KLUIC.
    This is one of those things that show me how incredibly stupid some people are. This is right up there with the "Dataran Trauma" they had at the new block of the University Hospital.
    Let's break it down: Kuala Lumpur Infrastructure University College.
    What the hell is that?
    It's either a university OR a college. But what the hell is a "university college"?
    Correct me if I am wrong.
    A "college" is usually smaller (compared to a university) that offers two-or-three-year diploma courses. They are usually focused in their field of study. However, a college may also be part of a university; as in the "College of Fine Arts" or a Business School within a university.
    A university usually offers degrees and you spend more time and money there.
    So then, what is a "university college"?
    I think it's one of those dumb Malaysian situations where ignorant dumbasses who have no idea of what they are doing are put in positions of power. And how we have this need to overstate what we have or what we are.
    I am not making this up! Their website.
    And then there's those airport limos which are really cars! And "bas kilang" which are actually vans. And my personal favourite display of stupidity: VVIP - Very Very Important Person.
    What I want to know is, when do you cross that line from "Very Important" to "Very Very Important"?
    It's probably that same line that separates "models" from "supermodels".

    Friday, November 21, 2003

    DVD. Little plastic discs that give us so much joy.
    What's the difference between DVD 5 and DVD 9?
    The guy will tell you that DVD gives you better picture and audio quality. That's a load of bull. He won't know unless if made the copy himself. The only relevant difference to the DVD guy is that he makes more money selling DVD 9s than when he sells DVD 5s.
    DVD 5 and DVD 9 are capacity specification.
    There is technically NO DIFFERENCE between DVD 5 and DVD 9 except their storage capacity. DVD 5 hold 4.7GB of data, which is a little over 2 hours of audio and video. DVD 9 holds 8.5 GB.
    A possible reason for any picture degradation is if the pirate transferred the pictures differently when copying to DVD 5 and DVD 9. But I do not see why this would happen.
    Most video pirates would save time and digitally copy a DVD. I don't think any would bother to degrade the pictures by sending the video out into the analog domain and then rerecording it onto another digital device. It's just too time consuming since it is done is real-time.
    Therefore, pirates would rather sell you DVD 9s to make more money but the content may be the same as that you'd find on a DVD 5, ESPECIALLY if the movie has not been released on DVD by the film studio yet. This is true for most movies.
    There are also larger-capacity DVDs such as the double-sided, dual-layer DVD which holds something like 17GB of data, which is about 7-9 hours of audio and video.
    In a nutshell, if it is a very new movie and has not been released on DVD by the film studio, you're better of getting a VCD. If you can't get the VCD, you're better off getting it on DVD 5 since the source will be either VHS or something some guy took with a video camera strapped to his head.
    Get it on DVD 9 only if you can't find it on DVD 5 and you want the additional features such as track commentary or featurettes (even that you wonder if they actually put them in the DVD.) By the way, "scene selection" and "subtitles" are not a special features.
    I cringe whenever someone tells me that they can tell the difference between video from a 5 or 9. That's totally irrelevant. It's like someone saying the audio sounds better from a 70-min audio CD versus a 80-min audio CD. Or their Word document looks better saved on a 40GB hard drive than when its saved on a 80GB hard drive.
    These are the very people why Monster Cable is still in business.
    Next week, we will discuss why MyKad is safe for you and me.

    Wednesday, November 19, 2003

    Blogs are funny things. On one hand, you want to be able to pour your heart and soul out for all to read. You just don't want people who know you reading it. But you still want people to read it. But you don't want your boss, your mother, that guy/gal you like, that friend you blogged about because he had something hanging from his nose, and your sister to read it. Therefore, you do not pour your heart and soul out as stated in Plan A.
    I guess you could really throw caution to the wind, pee into it and just let it all out. In other words, let the world know how sometimes cool but otherwise pathetic you are.
    You are OK when random strangers read your blog. But when your mom reads it, the ick factor sets in. And by "ick factor", I mean that feeling of wanting to rub chlorox in your eyes and stab toothpicks under your finger nails because your mom read your blog.
    I guess it doesn't really matter. It's inconsequential what we write. It just makes us think we are cool and we let of some steam. We get to throw in the word "FUCK" a few times in our writing since we don't get to use it anywhere else in the written world unless you count the walls of public restrooms.
    It makes us feel smart because we write stuff and make witty remarks. It bands together people who would rather blame others than blame themselves when they tell us they hate their boss because he is so stupid. Or we feel some kind of connection when we say we hate the world and we want to die. We can sound like the man in despair hoping that someone will feel sorry for us. It's almost like art and can be that pretentious; particularly when they go that that "self exploratory" trip to find themselves via blogging.
    I can't say which girl I like but does not like me back, or how I feel now. It's like my mom is watching. :-

    Monday, November 17, 2003

    I was reading some reports and updates on Proton. Yes, that local car company that has made parking lots look like Proton showrooms. I say this because it baffles and infuriates me that a company like Proton, with all its access, its strategic position and opportunities before it, it still manages to suck so much ass in every possible way.
    Consider this. With the upcoming effects of AFTA, EON, the national distributor for Proton estimates a 40% drop in Proton car sales over the next year. As such, EON will be distributing Mazda cars in order to maintain revenues.
    Because of AFTA, many expect prices of imported cars to go down since taxes will be reduced. However, leave it to the Minister of International Trade, Rafidah Aziz to highlight the stupidity of a race and nation, to insist that prices will remain the same because the government will find some other way to tax them. How clever.
    However you slice and dice this, it only points to one simple fact. Proton is not a good company with poor management.
    Check this out.
    After the second world war, Honda first made motorcycles. Then they moved to cars. The first Civic was introduced in 1972.
    Proton rolled out the Proton Saga, its first car in 1985.
    Granted, Honda had a head start of about 15 years. However, Honda started from scratch and Proton had the technology from Mitsubishi. (Well, sort of...even if it means slapping the Proton logo on a Mitsubishi Lancer.) But perhaps Honda had one advantage over Malaysia: They were Japanese. But what’s the score today?
    Allow me to present Exhibit A.

    Now, check out the pride of our nation.

    And still no airbags. Makes you want to run out and wave the flag, doesn’t it?
    While I am still on my soapbox, let me be the first to ask, what’s up with that logo?

    Proton is profitable, in the same way why Telekom is profitable. It profits from its near-monopoly position in the market place where competitors are priced out of the market. But how long do they really think they can get away with this?
    In the coming years, I expect Proton to continue to lower its prices in order to compete. And in order to maintain it’s profitability, it will cut back and compromise on the quality of its components. Where air-bags in most import models are becoming standard features, I predict that the car stereo, alarm, and air-conditioner will be options for Proton vehicles in the near future.
    It breaks my heart to see the vision of the former Prime Minister being soiled. I’d imagine he would have expected Proton to be what Hyundai is today. Or at least Kia and not the current state which I’d imagine what Daewoo was before it went away.
    We Malaysians are a funny lot. We complain, whine, and moan a lot. It could be said for most societies and culture. But somehow I sense Malaysians, and in some ways, Singaporeans, bitch and moan a lot. Just check out any online newsgroups or forums with Malaysians, and you will see the amount of flaming that goes on is enough to BBQ a dinosaur.
    Generally, we are nice to other people, but not to each other.
    Ever noticed how when we find a bug in our food, we just pick it out the bug, put it on the side, go "eeeeuuuuuwwww...gross" to our friends and continue eating? It could be a six-legged bug but you only see four, which means two bug legs are still buried somewhere in your food, and yet we just get on with life.
    Tolerance or just afraid to cause a commotion?
    Or when a friend relates an incident to you.
    FRIEND: My boss is such as ass. He told me stay back. As if I have no life. He think I what? I am a slave ah? Anytime he wants me to work after hours, I have to work. Not like he is paying overtime. Still the same pay, why should I stay back for him? Who the hell does he think he is?
    ME: Sorry to hear that. Did you tell what you just told me to your boss?
    FRIEND: Oh, not really.
    ME: Not really? So, what exactly did you say?
    FRIEND: Err...I told him I'd stay back.
    After all that, we conform because we are too chicken to speak out to those who matters. But amongst our friends, we bitch and moan and talk like we are the shit.
    In light of this revalation, I shall now speak my mind, be opinionated and judgemental about everything, and write what I feel without fear of offending anyone. Heck, I might even put it on the Internet for all to read just to show my conviction on speaking out. What a scary thought.

    Simply because it doesn't get said enough.
    1. My family
    2. The microprocessor
    3. The Internet and the World Wide Web
    4. Air-conditioning
    5. Wireless technology
    6. Cubase SX
    7. That I wasn't born in some poor African country
    8. Women who are sympathetic enough to have sex with me.
    9. Women who are sympathetic enough to have sex with me TWICE.
    10. Kazaa Lite
    11. Taiwan12. McDonald's
    13. I get paid for doing what I love.
    15. Pirated VCDs and DVDs
    16. Broadband access
    17. Coke Light
    18. The seven friends I have.
    19. NTV7 for showing "Late Show with David Letterman"
    20. Low Yat Plaza
    21. IKEA
    22. Google
    23. MIDI
    24. Bacon
    25. Brakes
    What else did I miss?

    Thursday, November 13, 2003

    Jac and I went to IKEA this evening. She was looking to get a chair for her male parental unit. I was there to help carry the box from the cart into her car. This seemingly blah evening turned out to be somewhat of a revelation.
    I was not planning to get anything at IKEA. But IKEA being one of the weaknesses I have (the other being Low Yat Plaza), I bought a really nice glass container/vase which I was planning to use as a fish err...bowl?
    Anyway, when we get to the chair Jac's looking to buy, we do some price comparisons and calculations. What's RM220 + RM197?
    Believe it or not, my brain exploded! And from the look on Jac's face, I could tell she wasn't doing too hot either.
    But we did get it after awhile. RM462.
    Then I realise. My brain is crapping out on me. I am actually becoming more stoopids.
    I've always pride myself as someone intelligent; one who thinks things through; one who thinks; one who gets the jokes on "Frasier". And there I was, with this constipated look on my face which would make you think I was deciphering some cryptic message in Hebrew from God himself which explains the meaning of life. All I was trying to figure out was how much the chair would cost with the foot stool!
    As common human beings go, I must blame something or someone else but me. I blame technology for making me so dependent on it, and IKEA for not rounding down their prices to the nearest tenth ringgit.
    But fact of the matter is, my brain is getting slow and I am getting too dependent on technology, or in this case, the calculator.
    In fact, just the other day, I caught myself saying, "I don't want to think about it. It is giving me a headache."
    I used to go on my judgement trip on people who make such statements. It's pure denial. It's putting the blinders on the brain because the heart does not want to deal with the consequences.
    I've become one of "them". I've become one of the millions of people Scott Adams makes fun of in his Dilbert cartoons. Get me to understand the concept of the 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. tea-break and I am ready to become a government servant.
    But where does that leave me? I have not addressed my situation of decaying intellect.
    Sigh. All this is giving me a royal ache in the head. I will think about it later.

    Wednesday, November 12, 2003

    This past week has been interesting. Interesting in that I've mostly sat on my ass all day and did nothing. It has been like that for the past two weeks and I must say that the new couch has been broken in.
    Consider some of the things I've done in the past week.
    1. I responded to one of those Nigerian email scams. This time, the seventh wife of a dead African king is trying to withdraw $30 million (US Dollars Thirty Million Only) of her late-husband's money. And she needs my help.
    So now, I have this guy claiming to be the woman's lawyer, calling me. And here I am, playing along. It has been fun irritating the hell out of this guy but I think he is catching on.
    2. I moved blogs. I spent one whole day "playing" with the new site. I can now confirm the relation between how much life that person has based on how much effort he/she puts into his/her website. As one can tell, I have no life.
    3. I shaved my head. I finally used the electric shaver I bought months ago after I first shaved my head. I did it again today. Now I feel so well ventilated. And think of all that cost of shampoo I'd be saving.
    4. I bought plants. Me, a man, bought plants for the apartment.
    5. I have not done anything musical in one week. Not one song. I have customised the crap out of my recording software though.
    6. I watched the "Indiana Jones" trilogy and bonus material.
    7. I bought shoes.
    What's next? A sex-change operation?

    Tuesday, November 11, 2003


    I've moved. This site will not be updated anymore.

    Click here for the new site at

    Thanks Blogger and Google!

    Batdude has left the building. looting!

    Friday, October 10, 2003

    It's apparent to me why furniture was invented for boys and men. It is so we can lay our clothes. I have now reduced my IKEA showroom-like living room into a glorified clothes rack. Yet another reason why men need women: To pick up after us or at least tell us so.

    I am actually starting to feel guilty for not being in the living room. I try to visit the couch every other day. Or at least once every three days. Even if it is to look for a pair of shorts I may have left there a few days ago. Now I need more friends to come over and hang out in my living room to keep the furniture company.

    My favourite room is now my work area. I got a wild hair up my butt last weekend and totally rearranged my workspace. I also converted my guest room into a storage and filing room for well, storage and filing. I am so grown-up now. I actually need space for filing.

    Next week will be very interesting. Although I have a cold, I must say my love my life...for now.
    If you have a suggestion for a domain name (.com), please let me know. It is for a networking site like Friendster but for a different interest group. The name can be something weird like or, as long as the domain name is available, is short and easy to spell and pronounce. Oh yes, the domain name has to be available. (You may check at I will give you RM100 if I use the name. :-)

    Offer void where prohibited by law.

    Wednesday, September 17, 2003

    You have certain social responsibilities when you drive.

    One, when you are first at the traffic lights, you have the responsibility to quickly engage into gear and move the fuck on. In fact, given that you are at that privileged spot, you should NOT be in neutral but instead be in gear for immediate take off. Yes! There is nothing more annoying than that one person who takes her time getting into gear and then slowing moving off. MOVE BI-ATCH! THERE ARE PEOPLE BEHIND YOU!

    Second, when you are at a high-density and high-turnover active parking area, and you want to leave, you must quickly get into your car and get the fuck out of your spot so others can park there. You may be holding back traffic because the person who wants your spot is waiting and holding up cars behind him. So, use common sense. Also, don't be going into the car and then decide its time to adjust your rear-view mirror, or to put on more lipstick. Do that when you're driving. Just get your ass into the car and drive off.

    Finally, if you see my car, make way. Stay the hell away from me and give me room. I need my space.

    Let me tell you about my weekend.

    I finally got my furniture together. I learned two things. Rather, I was reminded of two things. I bought furniture from IKEA. I think IKEA is Swedish for "assembly required." And this one required the use of a hammer. I hammered my finger. The first thing I noticed was that it hurt like hell. Second, all that lifting of furniture caused my entire body to ache. I am old. My thigh muscles hurt. My butt bone hurts too. The good news is, there MAY be more definition in my thigh and butt muscles. So I hope.

    That was Saturday.

    Sunday saw the dawn of my still on-going heart attack. I finally moved my production data to my new PC which I bought on Sept 10. The damn thing doesn't work properly. I did manage to get some things together in time for a recording session on Monday. But generally, things were not working the way it should. I think it has something to do with the wireless network card.

    I just realised how incredibly boring this blog is. To cut to the chase, I am now sitting at a cybercafe at Low Yat Plaza waiting for my PC to be fixed. And it's Thursday. This is one of those rare moments where I'd rather have an elephant's penis up my butt than to deal with PC problems. And if you know me, you'd know what an anti-fan I am of taking it up the butt. But here is an exception.

    Wednesday, September 10, 2003

    I am a dentist or if I am feeling sexy, I work at IKEA as the guy who names the furniture. Bovil the chair. Penus the work desk. Or Lesbo the rug. It's not too unbelievable. I've become so good at this that I can actually say "Humpen the sauce pan" with a straight face.
    I am so tired.
    Generally, two things motivate me to change my behaviour: Someone whom I care about or want to impress OR extreme pain. I suspect this is the same for most people. However, this past few days, I went ahead and did some things without either one of these behaviour-changing catalysts.

    I am finally going to do something about my living room. I've lived in my apartment for over three years now. The only areas which are lived in are the bedroom, bathroom, and my work area. occasionally when I get a wild hair up my butt, I'd used the kitchen. ("Using the kitchen" means eating toast over the sink because I am too lazy to use anything which I will have to wash and clean later!) In other words, the living room is anything but living. I've been using it to study the long term effects of dust particles on floor tiles.

    I went on out and actually bought furniture. At last! My once baron living room will actually look functional. Come this weekend, I will put on my Martha Stewart cap on and attempt to make my place look habitable. For now, the living room looks like a warehouse with boxes of furniture all over the place. Why not do it now, you may ask? Well, because there is a damn hole in the ceiling. Long story.

    I also got me a new computer for "work" today. Another shocker for me. I've been planning this for months and finally did it today. I've been doing all my heavy-duty production work on an Intel Celeron 600MHz. It's almost embarrassing (yet cool at the same time, no?) People have faster computers to play solitaire. Not only did I get a new PC, I got a wireless access point too. Which means, I've upgraded myself from "geek" to "uber-geek" by having a wireless network at home. Finally, I can live my life-long dream of being able to surf the web while sitting on the crapper. Bliss!

    Very soon, I will have a living room that looks like an IKEA showroom and a wi-fi network. I will be able to watch the stuff I've downloaded on TV in the living room. And I will have this really cool shelf thing I got from IKEA to hold my whopping 14-inch TV. (Dang...I knew I forgot something!)

    Speaking of which, I got a little gift from IKEA today. I bought this modular storage system which you can mix-and-match to get your own entertainment unit of sorts. I ended up with seven pieces of furniture. However, the cashier did not charge me for one of the pieces! Saved me RM480! Being the responsible customer I am, I am going back there tomorrow after my workout at the gym to pay for this piece of furniture.

    Finally, the biggest shocker that takes the cake is that my fellow recording engineer and I have decided that we are going to buy this original piece of software. Imagine that! What is this world coming to? Yes folks. I will be paying more than RM5 for a piece of software.

    So, in review, I think I am going through some kind of pre-midlife crisis. I feel like it's almost a preview to more desperate times ahead. Somehow I feel better. Amazingly, I still have no life. But at least I will have a living room.

    Monday, August 25, 2003

    It's been awhile. I have been busy. My days have pretty much been replays of the day before. I shouldn't complain. Life has been fairly exciting. Although some idiot woman did briefly break my heart but I think I am over it. Not after I spray-painted her car with the once-famous catchphrase: "I'm a goat-fucker."

    I also wake up each morning thanking the good Lord and the programmers in Steinberg in Germany who write the audio software I use daily: Cubase SX.
    From Santiago Theory

    The central insight of the Santiago theory is the identification of cognition, the process of knowing, with the process of life. Cognition is the activity involved in the self-generation and self-perpetuation of living systems. In other words, cognition is the very process of life. In this new view, cognition involves the entire process of life - including perception, emotion, and behaviour - and does not necessarily require a brain and a nervous system. At the human level, however, cognition includes language, conceptual thought, and all the other attributes of human consciousness.

    Seriously dude...where on Earth do you come up with this bullshit!?!!

    Tuesday, August 12, 2003

    I am using w.bloggar to blog this message. It's a desktop client and it seems much more intuitive than the Blogger interface. It would be much cooler if it could dispense cash through my CD-ROM drive.

    Monday, August 04, 2003

    Top 10 Sentences Found In Blogs

    10. I hate my life.
    9. I haven't updated my blog in ages.
    8. Fuck the world!
    7. I feel lonely today.
    6. I don't know where my life is heading.
    5. I am so confused.
    4. I am good enough. I am smart enough. And doggone it, people like me.
    3. Today is the worst day of my life.
    2. I had sex with a dog today.
    1. Hi me!
    I'm running out of things to rot. Oh wait...there's my brain still.

    I am tremendously pissed with a certain so-called jazz queen (my ass!). I think it's a general problem with people in this country. They are too closed-minded for something new. And then wonder why things are not happening. It's because you are caught in the dark-ages, you stupid bi-atch.

    "I want pure R&B. All natural instruments. Pure R&B. Something like "One Sweet Day."


    Hey! Guess what jazz queen? You have a can of mushrooms named after you!

    Next time you want soppy crappy shit like the stuff you want me to do, call Ajai! Don't call me unless there's a lot of money involved.

    (Please don't tell her. I still want to work with her and also I don't want to ruin that ever slight possibility that I may get to bone her right after a big bird flies in and swoops me away to a planet named after me.)

    Saturday, July 26, 2003

    In the 22 October 2003 issue of The Star on page 30, there is an article titled "Lessons Ling Learnt From PM."

    Now with a title like that, you'd think it would be good. So good, that I've summarised the article for your benefit.

    Edited from The Star:
    Former MCA president Datuk Seri Dr Ling Liong Sik said he has learnt three "most precious things" in my life from Prime Minister Datuk Seri Dr Mahathir Mohamad after having served in his Cabinet for 17 years and six months.

    "Thanks to Dr Mahathir, I have never touched a cigarette since midnight of Dec 31, 1988"
    Another important thing he learnt from Dr Mahathir, which he practised in his daily life was to stop eating after your stomach is half-full.

    "He said it was a harmful thing to force yourself to finish all the food in the present day when food is plentiful."

    Being meticulous was the third most valuable thing Dr Ling had learnt from the Prime Minister.
    So, boys and girls, remember these wise precious words from one of the wisest leaders in the new world, Dr Mathahir as distilled by Dr Ling.

    1. Do not smoke.

    2. Stop eating with your stomach is half-full.

    3. Be meticulous.

    Does the learning ever stop?

    Friday, July 25, 2003

    Ever wonder what roast chicken would look like if it sits in the fridge for more than three months? Wonder no more! As a public service, I did just that for you and here's the proof. Look at the colours and texture. Lovely.

    The fun never stops! From a different angle.

    Pernah - My song! I like! Click here to download.
    Check this out:

    Wouldn't you love to be the person who answers the phone at this company? ("Good morning....Ch....")

    Now, when you can't get the real thing, there's always....

    I am producing two songs for Sheila Majid's new album. I am so cool!!!! :-D
    Every day, for the next seven days, at every other minute (although less during the weekends and between 7.45 pm and 9.25 pm), someone will say "Gosh! I can't believe half the year has gone by already." Followed by one or more of the following statements: "Where did all that time go?", "Time flies", "I don't think I've achieved much" and/or "I think there's chicken stuck between my teeth."

    I had a point. But I've lost it.

    Tuesday, July 08, 2003

    Congratulate me! My attempt at a Blog-Free month in June was a great success. Yes, no blogging for over a month, which really just means no me bitching about the world for a month. How is that for self-control eh? Anyway, I was waiting for my hair to grow back.
    I hate Yeo's Just Tea!

    Wednesday, May 14, 2003

    Hey people! I shaved my head. For awhile, I was bald. Funny experience. Here are some tips should you want to do the same.

    Remember to apply some kind of alcohol or shaving oil before you shave away. Otherwise your sensitive scalp will hurt like hell when the blade scrapes off an inch of the epidermis. Take it from me, it hurts more than landing on a bicycle without the seat. Then there's the rash and you'll spend the following weeks picking on your scabs. All in all, fun for you and the family.

    Also, when you're done shaving your head and your standing there looking at your likely naked self in the mirror with shaver in hand, resist the temptation of questioning yourself "Should I go all the way?" Believe me, one hairless problem at a time, sparky.

    Besides that, shave away my good man!
    I am one goofy motherfucker!

    Friday, April 25, 2003

    You know...Milo is possibly the only drink I don't know what it's supposed to taste like. I've been drinking it all my life and I know how I like it. Super-chunky! But it's not like most hot beverages like coffee or tea when there is a general consensus as to what is considered "good coffee" or "bad coffee". On the other hand, I don't think there's actually the "right" way to make Milo. Not to my knowledge.

    I notice that most Malaysians (or wherever Milo is sold and consumed) like their Milo really strong. I am talking about 80% Milo and 20% water. Which begs me to ask, why don't we just eat chocolate instead?

    And check this out. I have a friend who fills 75% of her cup with Milo. Adds hot milk to dilute the Milo. Then adds ice to cool the drink down. And then adds more Milo which won't dissolve since the drink is cold. So, you're drinking this milky chocolate thing with chunks of Milo floating about. You'd be crapping chocolate by the end of the day.

    One more thing. Have you ever noticed that we almost always have to force ourselves to finish the last half of the mug of Milo? Someone always has to say "Finish your drink!" I think it is because we always put enough Milo in the mix to feed a horse, and by the time we get half way through, we are full. Then we'd just leave it there and it gets cold. Then we throw it out because there's that gross layer of Milo-film.

    Tune in next week when we discuss why we like the butter to melt on our toast but not on soft white bread.

    Friday, April 18, 2003

    Create Your Own Blog! Cut-and-paste the text below and very soon you will be blogging like everyone else on the planet!

    Hi! I don't know what is going on now. I feel so lost and confused. Today, I got some bad news from [your best friend's name] telling me that I am losing focus. Is he right? I just don't know. I want to die. I want it all to end. I wish I had someone to love me. I feel so alone. I feel like the world hates me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

    I ate an orange today.

    I also got an email today from Mr. Zeke Momtomatu from the Republic of Bongo. I feel so sorry for him. Apparently, his father died and he left some money in a Swiss bank account. Mr. Momtomatu needs my help to get the money out since he is no longer recognised by the Bongonian government. I will be sending him some money for some legal processing fees to process the fees which are legally required to be processed legally. I hope I can help him out. He said that there might be a little something for me. Yay! All my hard work is finally paying off.

    But I still think the world hates me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why can't I find someone to love me? Am I not desirable? Why God? Why did you put me on this Earth to suffer in pain and loneliness? God bless you Mr. Zeke Momtomatu from the Republic of Bongo! The check is in the mail.
    Once again...I am impressed by the resourcefulness of Malaysians. I am lying.

    This entry would seem to cheapen the whole effort but I guess it showed me to not be too cryptic when I write. I am going to explain this whole "Edward J. Smith" episode to those who have asked who Edward J. Smith is. I am going to explain this in very simple English just so I don't lose you.

    No, I am not going on a trip. No, I did not rip off Edward's blog. No, I am not Edward J. Smith.

    Edward J. Smith is the captain of the Titanic. The Titanic is a really huge luxury ship which sank in 14 April 1912 on its maiden voyage. There was even a movie called "Titanic" made in 1997 to tell this story. Perhaps you have heard of it or even seen it. I thought it would be clever to imagine what the blog of the captain of the Titanic would be like. Silly me. And it coincides with the day the Titanic set sail and the day it sank. It was exactly 101 years ago when the Titanic hit the iceberg at the time of the last Edward J. Smith blog.

    To those who harrassed me about Edward J. Smith: Didn't it occur to you to simply Google "Edward J. Smith"? Only one person "got it" without havng me to explain. C'mon people! Watch more TV!

    If you still do not get it, email me your credit card number or send me US$29.95 and I will send you a special video unlocking the secrets to the "Edward J. Smith Blog". Wait! There's more. If you email now, I will send you an exclusive limited-edition bottle of the sea water in which the Titanic sank in. So real you could almost hear the drowning. Yes! Own a piece of Titanic....sorta.

    Tuesday, April 15, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    We hit an iceberg today!

    Monday, April 14, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    We have received six iceberg warnings this evening. I am not sure if I should be worried since we are moving at almost top speed. We should arrive at our destination tomorrow.

    Saturday, April 12, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    We left Queenstown this afternoon. I am looking forward to reaching New York. I am going to retire and chill with the wife and kids. And have lots of sex....with the wife. Ismay was telling me that the sea water of the Pacific is saltier than the sea water of the Atlantic. I wonder if he is yanking my chain.

    Friday, April 11, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    We left at noon just now. So far it has been very good. Should be arriving in Cherbourg soon. Had a little incident just now just as we were departing. I had a little argument with Henry Wilde. He said he had a queer feeling about the ship. It is not going to be pleasant if he continues with his outlook. Damn it! I am in control of the safest, most luxurious ship in the world! Even God can't sink this ship! Who wants to touch me?
    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    We set sail today!!!!

    Sunday, April 06, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    I am so excited. And I just can't hide it. In a few more days, we are setting out to sea! If this does not impress the chicks, nothing will.

    Monday, March 31, 2003

    Edward J. Smith's Blog

    Bruce is starting to annoy me. He actually referred to me as “Cappy” at the dinner table. Damn! It was embarrassing. I am going to piss in his coffee later today. Tee hee!

    I got spat on today. Don't know who did it. Was taking a walk on the lower decks and suddenly, I felt the splat. Damn these kids to hell.

    Wednesday, March 26, 2003

    Of course, this stupid thing only works when I post blogs that read "I hate Blogger". It goes to hell when I post a relevant piece of literature filled with life-lessons to educate and at the same time, to entertain. Pah!
    I still hate Blogger.

    Friday, March 14, 2003

    An Interview With A God: Part 2

    Me: Let’s get back to what’s going on in the world today. What are your thoughts?
    God: Before I begin, let me say a few words about the state of your public restrooms in Malaysia. Why are the floors wet all the damn time?
    Me: Uuhhh...good one. I thought you were all knowing.
    God: I am.
    Me: Yeah. But I guess some people do not think toilet paper is good enough for them. God: Well, get them to kiss my ass.
    Me: Anyway, back to your thoughts on the world today.
    God: Yes. It will be partly cloudy with scattered showers in the coastal areas. Temperature will range from 75 – 89 degrees Fahrenheit. Expect a cold front from the east to sweep across the midlands later in the day.
    Me: I didn’t ask about the weather. I am asking about the state of the world today. How did it get like this? Why aren’t you doing anything to make things better?
    God: Yes. Good question. It’s all part of the secret master plan.
    Me: What secret master plan?
    God: It’s a secret. If I told you, it won’t be a secret master plan anymore. It would just be master plan sans secret. You are a putz.
    Me: Thanks. I will make T-shirts that say that. Well, I can see that this interview is a major bust. You are not making any sense.
    God: That’s OK. The point that I want to drive home today is that we should keep public restrooms dry. And again, the meaning of life is to not piss me off. Other than that, go nuts.
    Me: Are you sure you are a God?
    God: Yes. It’s says that on my name tag.
    Me: Whatever you say.
    God: Yes. I am taking questions from your fellow readers. So, get them to post their questions and I will answer them. I am, after all, a God.
    Me: Can you make me taller?
    God: No.
    Me: Darn.
    God: You are already beautiful as is. Just kidding.

    Thursday, March 13, 2003

    You may have noticed the note tag from Woof: “...This is what I got from looking up "CEBAI" from Google!”

    I just had to check it out to see if that were true. Well, yank the monkey out of my ass and call me Betty...there it was! Enter the word “Cebai” in Google and try keeping a straight face and constantly look to make sure no one is over your shoulder, and this blog is number 8 on the list! Why is that so wrong???

    When I enter “Bolumn”, my site does not show up but the link to fellow-bat’s blog shows up:

    Anyway, I hope that you found what you were looking for, Woof.

    By the way, “cebai” means “pretty face” in Kadunstan, a local dialect used by the aborigines in East Malaysia and Borneo. “Cebai” which derives from the Latin word Smelluss Cebaius dates as far back as 1335 and were first used by royal immigrants from the Java Islands as well as the Philippines who settled in East Malaysia and later became royalty.

    Many of these immigrants took on local women as their wives and as a result of the ethnic mix, their off-springs had distinct features which are uncommon Asian features. Hence, these children of mixed parentage were adored by society and were referred to as “cebai”.

    Today, when one sees a pretty face on the streets of Malaysia (both east and west) as well as neighbouring Singapore, it is not uncommon to hear someone say “There’s that cebai face!” or if you prefer, try a local phrase: “Muka cebai.”
    You know, I had a blogspot once. Then I removed it with blogspot remover. *Ba-dump-bump*

    Wednesday, March 12, 2003

    Here is a lovely footnote to the Great Kettle Burnout. I am thrilled to bits. I bought a new kettle today from Living Quarters at 1-Utama. And what an interesting story it is too.

    The retail price of this kettle is RM109.00. Very pricey no? But it was on sale with a 20% discount. Still pricey. After all, I have already carbonised two kettles from IKEA at RM70 each. But after looking around, I just could not take home those big industrial kettles that look like something my mom has. Heck, I will just buy this and make sure I do not burn it.

    So I go to the check out counter. The cashier asks how much discount the kettle is entitled to. SHE asks ME. I jokingly said “70%” and bless this child, she actually keys in 70% and I get 70% off! I paid RM32.70! When I see that number ringing up, you could see it in my face that I am trying to contain my excitement. Even Pam notices my constipated look.

    Anyway, I pay and leave.

    I bring the kettle home. And amazingly enough, the IKEA kettle’s whistler fits perfectly on my new kettle. (See inset.) Joy!

    Well, that’s that. I will now enjoy my kettle.

    Description: Stainless steel water boiling apparatus with two openings for water inflow and outflow. Built-in whistling mechanism for water temperature alert; preset at 100 degrees Celsius.

    Pros: Withstands heat and holds water flawlessly. Excellent design. Interchangeable whistler.
    Cons: Handle gets hot. Whistler only knows one song/note. Does not do laundry.

    Material:Stainless steel.
    Volume: 1.5 litres.
    Country of origin: Korea.
    Retail price: RM109.00
    Available at Living Quarters, 1-Utama and at Metrojaya stores near you.

    Saturday, March 08, 2003

    I hate Blogger!
    I will write for eight minutes. Because in eight minutes, I would have finished downloading all the songs Mackie recommended (songs by Stina Nordenstam). I didn’t bother to even preview the music. I just did a search and clicked on some 15 songs by the singer and when no one was looking, I also clicked on “Atlantis Is Calling” by Modern Talking.

    In less than eight minutes, I can shut down my PC and go to sleep.

    This has been an interesting week for me. When it rains, it pours. I’ve been preparing for this songwriting workshop which will take place in about 10 hours. But before that, I will be interviewed by a Chinese newspaper. That confirms it. I’m moving over to the dark side. I actually regret not being Chinese educated. Though I am sure I will lose the edge in my flaming personality seeing that there is no Mandarin equivalent to the phrase "dumb chicken shit fuck wad." I’m becoming the person I’d never thought I'd be. I am actually considering sending my children to Chinese-medium schools...but that’s another story. I am starting to eat my rice in a bowl with chopsticks. I have more Chinese CDs in my car now than I have English music. I can actually recognise my own name in Chinese characters. (Having the same surname as Karen Mok helps.) It is only a matter of time before I starting saying “I am so boring” or “computer hardwares and softwares” and I want to give myself another first name like "Flacken" or "Peaness."


    In less than 6 minutes, I can shut down my PC and go to sleep.

    But I guess being Chinese isn’t all that bad. Just as long as I don’t downgrade myself from Chinese to Ah Beng. Which reminds me of this one bit Chris Rock did about black people. And I think his thinking applies to Chinese people and other races as well.

    To paraphrase: There are two kinds of Chinese people. There’s Chinese people and then there are Ah Bengs. And everybody hates Ah Bengs...well, except their fellow Ah Bengs.

    Holy crap. Sudden burst of bandwidth Batman. All the songs have been downloaded on to my hard drive illegally without any payment to the record label, artist, or the songwriters.

    On that note, Chinese people are cool. Ah Bengs are not. Moving on.

    Monday, March 03, 2003

    An Interview With A God: Part 1

    Me: I have not been feeling good lately. Not physically...but emotionally and spiritually.
    God: Well, you’re a dork. That’s why.
    Me: Dear God...that’s cold.
    God: Mop it up and move on. Life is for you to experience. You are alive. You are experiencing. You are growing. The pain, as you’d call it, whether mental, physical, or emotional are just the temporary waves that sweep you in the ocean of experience.
    Me: Really?
    God: No. I just made all that crap up. But you bought it, didn’t you?
    Me: Almost...but you lost me right after “mop it up and move on”. My mind wandered to what I was planning to have for dinner. Chicken or beef.
    God: You little bitch. Don’t dis me. I will send a lightning bolt up your ass.
    Me: Sorry about that. I got carried away, almighty one.
    God: Don’t sweat it. I am after all, the patient one.
    Me: Anyway, I am your lost sheep. I am lost and I don’t know about my life and stuff.
    God: Whoa! Easy on the livestock talk. My son handles all the sheep talk. He is the appointed shepard in the family. Give me a call at 1-900-SWEET-JESUS. Each call costs $9.90 for the first minute and 99 cents for every 30 seconds thereafter.
    Me: That was quite shameless.
    God: Screw you.
    Me: Yeah. Let me ask you the question you’d probably get asked most of the time. What is the meaning of life?
    God: First, the question I get asked most of the time is “God, when are you going to cum?” Second, to answer your question, the meaning of life is to not piss me off. So do as I say. In fact, I’ve written it all down. Well...I didn’t actually write the whole book myself since I was kinda busy that century. But I did tell a whole bunch of people including Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John to take notes. In fact, I have two testaments. You should check it out. Quite a bestseller. But you know what? I have not received a damn cent in royalties.
    Me: What’s the title of your book?
    God: Well, the working title was “Stories I Pulled Out Of My Ass” but my publisher suggested I change it to “Words From The Big Guy” or “The Bible”.
    Me: Great. I will get a copy. I hope you’ll sign my copy.
    God: Sure thing. Just come by tomorrow and I will explain why I made women they way they are.
    Me: OK. See you tomorrow then.
    God: Yeah. Hey...will you turn off the lights on your way out?

    Sunday, March 02, 2003

    Just so you know how interesting my life has been, let me share some of the highlights. I flossed and reorganised the contents in my fridge.

    I’ve been working with this one lyricist these past weeks. He was introduced by my publisher via email. And shortly after, he was putting words to my music. I upload my song demos in MP3 format and he’d download them. He writes the words and then emails me the lyrics.

    All this time, I am thinking that this lyricist in the same city I’m in. It turns out that he isn’t. He is from up north, Penang.

    Hang on...I have a point.

    I’ve become one of those people who think Kuala Lumpur is the centre of the universe. It never occurred to me to ask him where he was or where he was from. I never got to know him until I realised it.

    This brings me to an interesting observation about people who live in a city with a Starbucks or McDonald’s. I will get to the Starbucks/McDonald’s qualifier shortly.

    My observation is this. We, and by “we”, I mean, the people considered to be the “generation that will affect the future the most,” have become to full of ourselves because we’ve had it good. Because we have a Starbucks in our neighbourhood, suddenly we want more. We want more than Starbucks and everything else from the land of Starbucks. But we don’t want to leave! We have become so provincial. We all say we’d leave the country if given the chance. I’ll bet my left nut that then most people come to the bridge, they won’t cross it. If they did, they’d use their return ticket in three months because they miss their nasi lemak.

    Of course, I am generalising. All this could be just me. I must be getting old.

    Friday, February 28, 2003

    Pam "Funk Diva" P. makes a good point on my derivative of the word "Wolumn" from the word "Blog."

    As she so eloquently puts it...

    "if you analyse it, like you say, a blog is a web log, then technically, a web column should be a bolumn. if you still can't see it, let me break it down for you: b-log, from weB log; b-olumn from weB column."

    Bolumn it is.

    So much for my influence on the English language.

    Wednesday, February 26, 2003

    23 Feb 2003 was a very sad day for me. It was the Great Kettle Burnout. Well, it was bitter sweet since I did some recording that day. So excited about the recording that I forgot I was boiling water.

    This is the second kettle I've lost in the past 6 months. I think someone is telling me that I should get an electric kettle.

    Anyway, I got this kettle at IKEA for a silly RM70 or so. It is one of those beautiful but not practical or functional designs. First of all, look at the stupid cover that is supposed to whistle when the water is boiling. I have two of these covers. The first one melted (Exhibit 1) due to the heat. So pissed I was that I went back to IKEA to reappropriate another one (Exhibit 2). Could someone please tell IKEA that kettles are supposed to get hot and it would not be advisable to incorporate meltable material like plastics or cheese in their designs.

    The irony this time is that the kettle burnt out BUT not the cover! Go figure!

    After a few hours, I inspected the kettle carcass. Popped the cover and looked inside. I see this black "thing" which I believe, the scientific term is called "weird crap", in the kettle. I have no idea what it is. It looks like a moon rock.

    So, I mourn for my kettle. I am a kettle-less man. And since I do not have a cow, you could also extend it to say that I am a cattle-less kettle-less man. Rust in peace.
    I know I stated in my earlier blog that I will be talking about personal stuff. But you might be interested in this ditty.

    She called yesterday. She called today.

    She called for a reason...which I figure it was some stupid excuse to call. By her third call, she was talking to me like as if nothing had happened and there was no lost time between us.

    I sense that she wanted me to ask her out to dinner but I pre-empted by saying that I was busy. That’s a big big leap for me. And then the call got more personal. She started to get verbally cosy with me with pet names (which by the way, I hate now.) Then she started telling me how she missed some of the things we did.

    Then it dawned on me. She misses me! Muah ah ah ah ah!

    You know what? I feel great. I am actually a little happier. So, I am a sick little fuck. Eat me!

    She could be saying all this just for the heck of it. But I don’t care. I guess all I really wanted to know is that whether she felt anything I felt. I guess she did...perhaps not in my magnitude since I am after all, a flaming drama queen. At least now I can get on with my life and get back on track to do what I am supposed to do...revive disco! Just you wait!

    I reflect on this one episode of “Friends” when Monica broke up with her boyfriend Richard (played by Tom Selleck). Monica couldn’t get over it and she had not slept in a week. She spent her time making jam. Then her dad visits her one day and mentions that Richard was a wreck over the breakup. Monica was happier and she fell asleep.

    Tuesday, February 25, 2003

    I was doing some housekeeping on the memory (or as my dad would call it, digital film) of my digital camera. Just had to show these:

    These are my demo singers: YH and Ms. Pam "Funk Diva" P. Their vocals are on the MP3 files below. These two will have a significant impact on my future. The YH session was on 23 Feb 2003. Pam's 12 Feb 2003. You can see my "Flaming Moses" fried rice on the table. I call it that because once you take a bite, you'll go "Flaming Moses! Show me the toilet!" I wanted to call it "Fried Laxative" but it thought that didn't sound too appetising.

    Speaking of appetising, Pam and I cooked a few weeks ago (16 Feb). I had to take a picture because it was so pretty. I had to hold back some tears. That black thing on the right is my "Hypnotising Chicken." Pam cooked the other two dishes: Tofu which always makes me go "I Foo. You Foo. We all foo for tofu!"; and the standard issue dish at the table of any American in a Chinese restaurant in the US: Stir-fry broccoli beef. (You gotta say it with that Chinese accent to the full effect.) Against Pam's mocking, I had the ginger and spring onions on the side for that photo-for-the-menu touch.

    This is my grandmother. She is about 85. She is the coolest grandmother in the world. All the Cantonese bad words I know, I learn from her...and a few Hokkien ones as well. How cool is that? Everyone says I have her eyes. (Oww!)

    Monday, February 24, 2003

    I Know You Know
    I also need to add that this isn't me singing. It's a guy who can actually sing; evident by this song. It's not me. I repeat, it's not me. I tried to but I sucked.

    Please Believe Me
    This is the lovely Pam. Can you feel her pain?

    Stupid IKEA kettle. Whistle louder you stupid piece of crap!

    Sunday, February 23, 2003

    Thanks to my recent intensive foray in the world of advertising, I am meeting new interesting people. Not only from advertising but from people in its supporting industries; hopeful singers and actors. I will say this. The people I am meeting these days look a heck of a lot better than the people I met when I was in the IT industry. Very shiny people.

    One of the things I am learning is keeping my mouth shut and my face straight whenever these pretty people speak. It just cracks me up whenever someone says “I am trying to do something that has never been done before.” And when you ask them what and how. They draw a blank.

    Or my personal favourite.

    “I am going to be a big star. I am going to go international.”


    “I don’t know. I just know I was born to do this. I am destined to be a star.”

    Right. Moving along.

    These are the sort of people who will pose for unidentified photographers at social events just to have their pictures in magazines who want such pictures simply to fill space.

    These are the people who think Kuala Lumpur is the centre of the universe.

    These are the people who, for artistic integrity, will come up with a drum-and-bass album which they plan for international release although they are not sure how to do it. And then wonder why they ended selling only 50 copies, mostly to themselves to give to their friends.

    These are the people who speak with an accent even though they've never been out of the country. What's worse are those who go to Australia and then speak with a British accent. No wait, that's not the worst. The worst are those who speak with an unidentifiable accent cocktail, which appears to be a combination of 32 accents from around the world topped with bad grammar. I would love to see how this people speak to their mothers, grandmothers, and to that one uncle from Batu Gajah, Perak. I can just imagine grandma going...

    ”Ooi...what the properly...can or not?”

    Alright. Maybe not your grandmother.

    I now realise, dear God, I love myself and my "real" friends. I should be the last to judge. Some people say I'm weird or they "don't get me." Frankly, when people say that to me, I just think they need to watch more TV and expand their vocabulary.

    Listen people! This is Malaysia. We do not have a long history of the type of culture you are peddling. If you want to keep it real like you think you are, talk about Chinese opera or the Mak Yong. You are not in New York or Paris. We are a developing country with a population of 25 million. We are not there yet.

    People don't talk like that here. You are not cultured. You are just ridiculous and perhaps, ridiculously in the wrong place. Move to the US or Europe. Think about that when you are home eating your Maggi mee.
    I have this Braun electric toothbrush which I totally love. I can't imagine personal dental care without it. However, I can't help but wonder if my neighbours notice the buzzing sound coming from the bathroom whenever I use it. If I didn't know better, I'd think someone was using a vibrator in the bathroom. A vibrator and me. Now, that's a visual you would not want in your head.
    I'll be damned. It happened sooner than I thought. I wrote sometime ago that Blogger will one day be owned by Yahoo!. Well, I guess I was wrong. It's now owned by Google.
    This is week is “eat in” week. (I can hear a chorus of you people going “Yeah right. Whatever.”) With the help of the Food God, I am going to attempt to eat at home this week. I’ve eaten out almost every day since I started work in 1995. This has clearly affected my once-male-model body. Maybe I will eat out once or twice, if business calls for it. Not only am I going to eat in, I will also eat healthy.

    So, I went grocery shopping and filled my fridge with all sorts of healthy crap like fruits and low-fat yogurt. Now my fridge is actually living up to its purpose and is actually keeping food fresh. Yes, I actually have a fridge with food. This is full of excitation. I have fruits, some vegetation, and various meat products.

    Having said all this, I expect invitations to lunch and dinner to be at an all-time high because life is just that kind.

    Tuesday, February 18, 2003

    The term blog began from web log. The de facto definition of blog was characterised when some lonely person decided to post his or her daily journal on-line for the world to read. (Although, the original blog was not an on-line journal.) As with most web-based phenomenon (like ICQ and eBay), it was only a matter of time before a business would form based on that idea.

    Blogging gave rise to the concept of personal publishing and the corresponding push-button publishing jargon.

    However, in the personal publishing realm, there’s still tremendous potential in the application of push-button publishing. It goes beyond posting your life story or telling us what you had for dinner.

    John Barger coined the term blog in December 1997.

    Today, 18 February 2003, I would like to introduce the latest in personal publishing.

    I call it Wolumn.

    A wolumn is a web column in the same way a blog is a web log.

    You see where I am going?

    Yes. You heard it here first. Wolumn. Spread the word.
    Call me Mr Productive. I managed to attend a meeting. Produced and mixed music for a television commercial. Partially arranged another piece of music for a different commercial. And on top of all that, managed to hang out a bit with Pam for dinner and a quick lesson in butchering the Chinese language.

    So here I am. Blogging at 3.30 in the a.m. I was supposed to have recorded my first Chinese song demo with me, yes, me, singing. Yes, me singing! Do you know what’s more ridiculous than me singing? Me singing in Chinese!

    You can more or less guess how that exercise went given the fact that I am writing. It totally sucked royal ass. I couldn’t even get through the first verse. I got the lyrics in Chinese. Pam was kind enough not only to romanise the characters, but she also taught me how to read them. It’s only now I realise that speaking and singing are totally two different things from the brain-to-output point of view. What you think you are saying and what actually comes out from your mouth are vastly two different things.

    In conclusion, I am leaving the singing to singers! I will just stick to writing and producing. If you know anyone who sings, let me know.

    And in other news, Pam and I recorded three song demos, which sound almost like a finished product. I love it. If those songs do not get attention from the industry, either from a song or vocal standpoint, I am going to quit music and set up a Ramly burger stall. I am also in love with Pam’s voice, which I hear, is straight. So, that’s a good thing.

    Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I am now getting sucked into the world of music for commercials. I have not decided whether that is a good thing or not. I do know one thing though. People in advertising are idiots. (By the way, that’s item #3 on the “How To End Your Career In Advertising” list.) I also do know that I have more strangers coming to my apartment in the middle of the night to piss me off by asking me to make changes at the last minute. Also, women in advertising are shinier than regular people.

    May the Force be with you.

    Friday, February 14, 2003

    Funny thing happened on my way to work.

    I thought it was going to be one of those morning when I would get caught in traffic for at least one hour before I get to the part of the road where traffic clears up. I will then need another 30 minutes to get to the office.

    This time it was different. It took me two hours to get to the part of the road where traffic clears up.

    Like most people, I’d cuss and swear and bitch when I get caught in traffic. Compound that with bad drivers who cut me off or drivers who take their own sweet time to get in gear and move their sorry asses, I am ready to road-bully. In the following seconds, every road user ahead of me is a motherfucker.

    However, this time, I thought I’d be a little original and potent with my swearing.

    “Someone better die for this jam!”

    I plough through the traffic. I’ve gone through one CD by now. I see more people walking and weaving through the cars ahead. Police are asking people to move along.

    “Yeah people! You losers! Move along! Damn Malaysians!”

    Yes, there’s that accident. Despite my self-righteousness, I still take a quick look to see what the fuss was all about.

    I see an old car with an open hood on the road. The standard-issue broken-down car scene; complete with smoke coming out of the engine. How typical. Then I see it.

    I see a body on the ground. At least, the lower body; the bare legs. The upper body including the face was covered with newspapers held down with shoes.

    My wish came true.

    The disturbing part was not seeing a body on the ground. It was seeing the shoes and recognising them. I know those shoes. I made them for Ling almost eight years ago. I painted on the shoes and sold them to her for a dollar because someone told me I should not give shoes as gifts.

    I call Ling. She picks up the phone. I sigh with relief.

    “Hi Ling. Are you OK?”

    “Who is this?”

    “It’s me.”

    “Waaaah....I feel so special today. I don’t hear from you in three years and suddenly I get a call.”

    “Are you alright?”

    “Yes I am. Why the weird question out of the blue?”


    Suddenly I wonder where has Ling been all my life. I used to have a major crush on her. That’s why I painted the shoes for her. All my feelings from the past came flooding back.

    “Hey Ling. Wanna have dinner tonight? With me?”


    I pick her up for dinner that day. We ate at Chili’s at Bangsar. I would like to think I impressed her my ability to de-meat a buffalo wing in my mouth without using my fingers as if I had some magical powers. However, if I know women, she’d think I’m gross.

    We talked as if we had been in touch all these while. Within that three hours at Chili’s and after seven refills of my beverage, we updated each other. It was such a pleasant evening.

    I drive her home. I promise to call her tomorrow and perhaps we could do a movie the next day. She said she looks forward to it. And for the first time in my years of dating, we both kissed each other. It was not me kissing her or her kissing me. It was a synchronised instinct that made us move forward to kiss. Just like in the movies. I am not going to screw this up.

    And to think all this started with a traffic jam. I will never complain about traffic again.

    We say our goodbyes and she makes her way into her home. I wait to make sure she is safe in her house and then drive off. That should impress her.

    What would impress her more is that I call her in a few minutes to say goodnight. I hear women love this romantic crap. Or would I appear too desperate? What the heck. I’ll just call. After all, it’s only 11. She could use a pre-sleep chat.

    I call. Someone picks up the phone. Sounds familiar. It’s her mother. Crap. I hope I did not wake the whole house up.

    “Hello. Sorry for calling so late. May I speak with Ling please?”

    Silence. But it’s broken. “Who is this?”

    “’s her friend...err...Bob.”

    Yes. Lie to her. That’s the way to impress your future mother-in-law.

    Before I could finish that thought.

    “Ling died in a car accident this morning...”

    How could this be? I just spent the evening with her. Her mother does not believe me. Did I imagine the events of the evening?

    I drive back to Chili's. People there, at least the waiter who served us must have also seen her.

    "No sir. You were here alone. But you ordered for two."

    Thursday, February 13, 2003

    I'll be back. The man who commands the creatures of the wild will be back.

    Monday, February 10, 2003

    Dear non-paying reader of Yet Another Blog:

    Thank you for the calls I’ve been receiving from some of you to remind me that I’ve not been writing.

    As much as I appreciate it, too many people have been reading my blog. About 50 unique readers a day. Fifty, relative to the visitors to, is a small number. But when you put it in the context 50 people whom I don't know reading about me, it gets disturbingly creepy. Especially if that person was referred to by someone I do know.

    I can see it one day already. I will meet that person, say TV Woman's boyfriend, and he'd go, "Ahhh...I read your blog you emotional basket case. Don't touch me. It might be contagious."

    The shit hit the fan when two of these people turned out to be my sister and my business partner. Imagine the embarrassment. Heaven forbid should Jesus go on-line and discover my excessive use of the f-word in my writing.

    I ponder. Should I make my blog private and only let a selected few access it. Or should I just stop writing about the more personal stuff. Not wanting to deny my fusion of intellect and sarcastic wit to the rest of the world, I am opting for the latter. At the very least, I should at least get laid.

    Let’s face it. My blog isn’t my blog now is it? It’s not about me or my life. It is turning out to be more of a piece of entertainment; like a column. You expect my writing to make you laugh. Nobody gives a rat’s ass about how I feel. Nobody really cares if I’m constipated.

    Therefore, I’ve decided to remove the more personal stuff from my blog and just write useless fluff purely for entertainment purposes with hopes that one day, I will be able to charge you a super low subscription fee of US$9.90 a month just to enjoy my award-winning site. But wait, there’s more. If you sign up today, I will include a free “I Visited The Batdude Site And All I Got Was This Stupid Pop-Up Ad” T-shirt with your subscription. Sign up today!
    My neighbours can’t be too happy with me.

    I’ve been home mixing music all day since 2 pm. It is now 12.30 am. I did take an hour off for a nap of death and dinner. But I have at least another three hours to go.

    I am quite amazed that I’ve not had complaints yet. And the piece of music I am working on is heavy club stuff. It’s for a beer commercial and you can imagine how ridiculously ridiculous those commercials are. (Out of the blue, a horse walks through an elderly couple’s living room.) I am going to go to sleep with the bass drum reverberating in my head all night long. I just know it.

    Wednesday, February 05, 2003

    If there were a poll to find the most frequently used line in blogs, I am quite sure that this line would be in the top five along with "I hate my life", "I am so confused", and "Nobody loves me":

    I don’t know what to feel.

    In a disturbing turn of events, she called this afternoon while I was helping Jackie assemble furniture. (What is it about me that makes people think I am good with furniture and home furnishing?) I am not going to read too much into the phone call or it’s meaning, and just accept that it is work-related. She wanted someone on her show and I happened to know that someone very well. I kept the conversation short and SMSed her the phone number of the contact she wanted. I thought it was rather rude of me. Short of me saying, “Here’s the number. Go call him yourself.”

    And that was that.

    I was supposed to have dinner with Jackie this evening. And we decided that we’d take a nap and then go for dinner. She was going to call me to wake me up when she gets up. Great! That’s a great way to get over the Nap of Death. I wake up before that wake-up call and get an attack of the Nap of Death. It was then I felt bad for being curt to “her” this afternoon. After all, to truly get over a person, you have to be able to speak to that person and be OK about it, right? She called first. She made the first move. She is trying. It'd be rude if I did not reciprocate. I'd be small and petty. Yeah...I’m doing the right thing.

    This, right here, could be the defining moment of my downfall as a man. Like a dumbfuck, I call her.

    She sounded happy. After the usual pleasantries, she launched into her “The Month That Was...” and auto-updated me on her life. Damn...I was trying to find the cancel button to stop the information download but failed.

    I tried to end the conversation with sentences starting with “Anyway....” but it didn’t work. Not because I did not want to talk but because my damn phone was heating up and I could hear my earwax melting.

    She ended the conversation with “I’m hungarian.” (that’s audi-speak for “I’m hungry.”)

    “Then go eat.”


    “Yeah...I guess I will go out and get something.”

    I am now thinking maybe she wanted me to say “Let’s go get dinner together.” You think? Gosh...I really wanted to. But I really did not want to brush Jackie off. But lo and behold, loyalty to my friend was barren. She SMSed me to cancel on me because of a guy! Cebai!

    Just as well, reason to stay home and work.

    I don’t know what to feel. Should I be happy? Should I allow her back in my life? Should I wax my eyebrows?

    Hurry home Pam!

    Postscript: Do NOT ask how I am doing! I am doing just fine.

    Tuesday, February 04, 2003

    Woman: Do you know what’s worse than Chinese new year music?
    Man: The techno remix of Chinese new year music.
    Man & Woman: Ha ha ha ha ha.
    Woman: You are funny.
    Man: I know.

    I have food in the fridge.

    That’s a rare statement coming from me. In about two weeks, I will say “I have to clean out my fridge and throw out the expired crap I bought two weeks ago.”

    I went grocery shopping at Carrefour today. Granted, most of the food products I bought are of the “bomb shelter” variety; that is food that are either canned, highly preserved by cancer-causing agents, or both. I did get some vegetation, juice, and the some bite-sized remains of a slaughtered cow.

    It was a fairly pleasant experience this time. It wasn’t as crowded as it usually is. The roads have been pretty clear as well. I noticed a lot of things on the shelves that I did not notice before. Given my allergy to high concentration of Chinese-speaking people, (by this I mean, other people’s aunties and uncles who would go for seconds at the free food sample counter), I usually breeze in and out of the place.

    Quite an eye-opener for me as I took my time to comb each aisle. The first thing I noticed is how hot some moms look these days. It’s amazing that they can shoot out a couple of kids and still have the body a porn queen. You can quite easily spot these Greek Goddesses because they are the ones with the dorky-looking husbands. (Good looking men don’t do grocery shopping.)

    I also noticed how instant noodles at Carrefour are categorised by flavour and not by brand. How there is an expiration date on bottled water. What happens after the expiration date? How the aisle for animal food is sandwiched by the aisles for rice products and beverages. Heaven forbid should grandma bring home a bag of dog chow thinking it’s a bag of rice. Good rice is expensive. We get the small tomatoes on our shelves. I am sure Singapore gets all our good stuff. How some Malaysians still call it “salad” when it is “lettuce”. Don’t get me started on the “long pant” vs. “long pants”.

    I also have a question: What’s the difference between regular garlic and smoked garlic?

    The techno remixes of Chinese new year music was really getting to me. Why do they do that? Is Carrefour trying to get their customers out of the place? Why can’t they just play regular Chinese new year music that we have all learned to love over the years?
    Let me introduce the concept of the Pointing Device.

    Contemplate this. (*Glissing harp sounds*)

    Think of the buttons in an elevator. The button on the parking ticket dispenser at the entrance of parking lots that say "Push Here For Ticket". The rubbery rail you put your hand on while you ride up or down the escalator. Door knobs or door handles at high traffic areas, especially public restrooms.

    These are public contact points. Consider this for a moment: If we scan public areas with a Germ-O-Meter 3000™, we will find the highest concentration of bacteria, dirt, muck, and other gross crap at these public contact points. Thousands of people from all walks of life, touching everything from their food to their ass have touched these areas. Some dirty pervert may have just scratched his balls and picked his nose at the same time when he thought no one was looking and then pressed the button on the elevator. Yes, it happens!

    And no one cleans these public contact points. When was the last time you see someone Lysol the buttons on an elevator?

    To put it in a more scholarly way, it’s icky!

    Your pointing device could be anything that’s available. You could use the tip of a key. Or the pointed end of whatever you are carrying. Better yet, use somebody’s finger. The point here is to not use yours.

    I don’t think this is excessive compulsive behaviour. I am not suggesting that we walk around wearing rubber gloves (although that would not be such a bad idea if everybody else wore it for me.) This is an issue of personal and public hygiene. So, the next time you lay your fingers down to key in your PIN at an ATM, take a moment to muse over the fact that the previous ATM user may have masturbated with the very same hand and fingers used to get the ATM to take out some cash. In some remote cosmic way, it may have been you who gave him that handjob.

    Use a pointing device. Accept no substitutes.
    Three of my greatest homecoming fears did not materialise and I thank the good Lord for it! One, my fear, or rather, intolerance for traffic congestion on my way back to KL from Melaka. Traffic was good. Made it back to KL in good time. Weather was fair with partly cloudy skies. Setting off in the late night helped, I’m sure.

    Two, that my apartment complex is still standing. That one is a fear. I have this thing where I return home to a big pile of rubble which was formerly my apartment.

    Three...well, I’d rather not say because I might just jinx myself. Let’s just say it involves me walking in on people with keys to my apartment (which includes my dad, my sister, and my ex-girlfriend) to find them having sex on my bed for a cheap thrill. (Not my dad and my sister having sex! That would be too sick. I will stop now.)

    I was looking forward to coming back to the city but when I arrived, my feelings changed. Going back home to Melaka gave me a temporary sense of detachment from reality. I did not have to worry about anything. Basically, I was a bum with HBO. I perfected the art of eating and sleeping. It was almost like a sanctuary. I think it’s a good thing.

    Now, back in KL, I am almost back to where I left off just before I left last week Thursday. It is as if time stood still from the time I left KL to the time I returned. These past few days had no impact on my life. I did nothing. I accomplished nothing productive.

    I did on my return, however, discover a brand new strain of bacteria and some kind of overgrown fruit-fly- on-steroids when realised that I did not take out the trash before I left town last week.

    Anyway, back to my self-contemplation and self-pity. The first thing I felt was how much I still miss her. And that I still think of her. But like Pam said, “Get over it already!” I am getting so sick of myself over this matter. I wish there was a way I could administer little electric shocks to myself whenever my mind wanders and I start to think of her. That way, I will begin to associate discomfort (electric shocks = discomfort) with thinking of her. Therefore, my brain will subconsciously stop thinking of her. That just might do the trick.

    The second thing I felt and noticed was my drier-than-usual skin. I need to moisturise more.

    For now, I shall rest. And rest I shall. For tomorrow is another day. (It’s 4.07 am! Cut me some slack!)

    You know what...I am feeling saucy! I am going to ask Psych Girl out for a beverage tomorrow. And she is going to shoot me down!

    I can’t wait for Christmas!

    Sunday, February 02, 2003

    I am regretfully pleased to report the third phase of the ongoing oriental new year celebrations: The “being-at-home-to-entertain-your-parent’s-friends” phase. This is also when the parents will start putting up their adult children up for the “That’s My Boy” or “That’s My Girl” competition. I don’t think my sister and I will do our parents proud since we are not married while some of the competitors already have kids.

    And as with all phases of the new year celebrations, it also has room for everybody’s favourite year-long quiz show of “When Are You Getting Married?”

    Hey mom and dad! Your ONLY son who will carry on the family name has his own business and he produces music for famous people! (Which is another way for my parents to say “My son is an ungrateful unemployed bum who hates us so much he won’t give us a grandchild.”)

    Next week! Really!

    On a brighter note, I have managed to clear out my Inbox. I have zero unread messages. Yes! Bring out the champagne and let’s all sing songs in praise of me.