Thursday, July 28, 2005

Smells like Japan

DO THE BEST by Do As Infinity. Avex trax.

Excuse Tiger for being so curious.
He's never seen a Japanese import CD before.
I thank Kana for going through all the trouble in Japan. Well, she got to poke my tummy in return.
And the snacks are great too. Kana, if you're reading this: Anatawa kirei desu. Watashimo kakkoi desu yo~
Ah. The album is great. From a Rock Pop point of view. This is old. Probably 2-3 years old. I know, I'm old fashioned.
But it's so much better than their recent albums. I know, I know, all artist wants to breakthrough from their 'style'.
It's my first time. So, I absolutely enjoyed it.
Even Tiger likes it, although he enjoys African drum more. He's quite open minded. He can do the robot dance. Really...

Torn apart

I said bend over.

The moment I got out of my box, I saw my owner, and I knew then my life is not going to be easy. My twin said: oh my god you gotta be shitting me. We're so fucked.
He's huge. I'd sell my sole to the devil just to get a new owner. Instead I got penetrated by his right foot.
I'm a size 11. His foot's a size 11. The problem is, his foot is fat. Lots of unwanted flesh. I felt sorry for him while he's strugglling to stuff his foot into my throat.
Kinda reminds me of an inexperienced guy putting on a condom if you know what I mean(nudge nudge).
He looks mighty unfit to buy a pair of running shoes. As fugly (fat+ugly) as he can be, he looks determined.
We've heard a lot from the factory. Humans want to be fit is because of a) they want to be fit and attract the opposite sex. or b) they just got dumped by the opposite sex.
My twin and I couldn't believe he'd actually had a girlfriend, so we agreed on reason a. More plausible.
He's quite rough. Trying to rip us apart every chance available. No other shoe would survive his brutality.
But we are different. We're built to endure his tortures. Call us the Nike Free Trainer 5.0. That's our last name.
Our first names would be 308822041.
We work all of his 29 muscles 26 bones and 37 joints. Our function is to mimic his barefoot motion.
And I think he didn't read the instruction well, as it said: walk for 5 weeks in the shoes, do not intend to do heavy training.
That stupid fatso ran with us.
Caused some serious twitching, facial cramps and urination on body. But that's cool. Nothing we've never heard of.
He's getting better though. Seem mighty proud that he could finish a whole lap of 3km after 3 tries. Last time we heard he could even play basketball after the run.
You say poor him. I say poor us. But that's our job anyway. Getting abused, stepped on, touched, tied, penetrated, twisted into different positions etc.
As long as they pay, we don't care.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Raining again

Moby Live in The Palace, St Kilda, Melbourne. 21/07/2005.

My ears are still ringing. My hair smells like cigarettes ought to smell. My heart is still beating and my legs are sore.
The concert was fucking. awesome.
Although he made us waited for 2 and a half hours, it was well worth it. And of course the $72 I've yet to pay.
Nothing serious, just that before his band and him appear there was this local jazz rap band. Come on, I'm not gonna pay attention to some stupid band when I was there to see Moby.
He didn't disappoint.
The concert was held in a dance club sort of venue. So it's a small crowd, say 1,000 people? We got a clear view of his bald head.
Of course, you get bogans shouting: The keyboard player is hot! Ah, horny little Australians. But she was pretty hot.
Apart from my friend, I've only seen three other Asians. Guess they're saving money for Kelly Chen instead.
The thing about having a distinct feature, is that your fans will copy you during your concert. We've seen more than a couple of bald man trying to look cool. Maybe during the beatlemania all guys had their toiletbowl hairstyle. At least my dad did.
At one stage he said: As a citizen of United State, I feel that I've the obligation to apologize on behalf of my country.
There was a tough check on cameras upon entry. Yet when the gig started he said: About photography, I advise you not to use flash so that the picture will turn out better.
Moby didn't steal the show. He plays the guitar most of the time, leaving the vocal to Laura Dawn.
After each number he'd say: 'Thank you. Thank you' in a shop announcer kind of way. The crowd loved him.
I want to have his baby.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Some muffins for you too

Shit my head is stuck to the wall. But I'm still hot.

Yes, to get yoose guys out of the lenghty sensitive faggy post of Melbourne nights, I give you a REAL incentive to visit my blog.
Sorry about the last post, I was reading a bit of Kafka.
The picture is to thank Parky for his tea.
While enjoying yourself, you can learn Chinese.
I'm quite sceptical about this cultural indifference workshop.
I don't think it works. You can't snap your fingers and be open minded out of a sudden.

That's what Australia is all about. They take our money, eat some sushi and kebabs, they think they're multi cultural.
What I hate about Melbourne, is that whenever they hear you're from somewhere Asian, they have to, I repeat, they HAVE to pretend they know some of your language.
Oh, Konichiwa! Oh, Ni Hao! Mai Dan! Oh, Sawadikap! Oh well, piss off. Sometimes they can't even get it right.
When I meet people from America I don't go: Hey I know your language! SHITFACE! How's that! You look like one eh? ENURESIS! You piss in your sleep don't you? SHOT MY WAD? Huh? What about SCHLONG? Oh that's Jewish isn't it. Oh ha ha ha.
Of course, there's always the 'Oh I can say 'I love you' in 12 languages' people. What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with them?
AS IF! As if one day aliens invade the world and only the people who could say I love you in more than 2 languages get to survive and taken to some shuttle for anal probing experiments.
Say the word and you think you're different. Slept with a foreigner you'd think you've seen a new world.
It's like a package: Man from Bahamas! Comes with foreign culture. Exotic languge lessons included in box.
Guess what? A box of condom says the same thing.
I've heard the most rediculous comment ever: Of course I'm well cultured! I've dated men from different countries!
Ironically enough, it's said by an Asian girl.
Note: Never confuse sex with culture. Same organs, same process, same fakings of orgasm. Skin colours of penises never actually affect the way you suck them.
I'm sorry, did I start off with some deep 'cultural' conversation and ended up with penis jokes again?
Well, bottom line is: you can't be tolerable suddenly just because you joined some seminars about cultural differences.
It's like buying a joke book and you expect to become funny. Well ha ha ha ha. Now get the fuck out.
Although I did purchase an Adult Joke Book. But it was on sale! It was $5! I was bored and lonely!
No? Not working? I'm really funny! Really...

Sunday, July 17, 2005


I was waiting for the Japanese girls to come clubbing in Crown. With another group of friends, which I've only met 3 hours ago.
One of those 'what the fuck I'm doing' moments.
When they finally arrived(which is a whole 45 minutes late) later, I was hit by this major exhaustion.
The exhaustion of waiting. Sick and tiring.
We were already in front of the club, but I decided not to go after all. I started walking back for the last tram.
On my way back to Flinders street, I decided to make a movie out of it, if I were to be a director. The movie titled 'Wait'. I made up my mind on that while crossing to South Bank.
On the bridge I thought of picking up smoking. The reasons to pick up smoking now outnumber the reasons for me NOT to.
Three drunk guys in front of me were yelling gibberish. Stan, Waldo and Danny. Couldn't even walk straight if their lives depended on it.
Upon entering the Flinder Station tunnel, I saw two policemen and a policeperson. The three stooges were cracking jokes. A few paces later Danny yelled: DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS?
I assume it was intended for the policemen, as clearly his father could be Nelson Mendela for all I care.
Along the tunnel came two women dressed up in Arabic genie costume. Back from party, maybe. With wrinkles that matches the colour of their skirts, they gave the stooges an 'I Love Jeanie' wink and nod. I could hear trains commuting above us.
Waldo said something like: Fuck off, bitch.
I parted with the stooges at the traffic light and sat on the bench. Tram 19 was not coming for another 10 minutes.
It's been a while since I experience pre-midnight darkness in Melbourne city. The night was dry and uninviting.
I've nearly forgotten about the midnight dwellers of Melbourne.
A girl who's just finished work was texting her phone. Walking around was an old man, asking for changes so that he could buy cheap liquor. A fat man was munching away his cheesburger on the next bench. I saw Santa pushing a trolley without his uniform. Across the street, two guys were fighting each other. Alan and Marlon.
Tram 59 pulled up.
Looking at a young punk spitting on the floor before he went up the tram I felt as if I've intruded a different life style.
At the beginning of the night I was thinking: oh what the heck, I've broken up, I'm going clubbing, I'm gonna crash big time.
But as Marlon was punching Alan's face, I realised that breaking up has nothing to do with my desire to club.
I still hate it like how I hate mushrooms, broken up or not.
Marlon's girlfriend tried to stop the fight and got in between the two of them. She got pushed away. The brawl continued.
Unlike Bollywood movies, fighting in real life has no bone crunching sound. No grunts, no stance. Just two zombies swaying their flesh on each other. There wasn't even blood.
Eventually Marlon got dragged away by his girlfriend. Tram 59 left with a 'ding', accompanied by Alan's cry of 'Asshole!'
Then I realised the fat cheeseburger guy was gone. Must've left when Alan was giving Marlon the right upper hook. Everything fell silent, except for the electric jabs of the tram cable.
I felt as if there was a gap in the whole 'midnight' feel. We, the night dwellers, need a guy fat guy eating burger to complete the picture.
What the hell, I thought. Taking out my wallet, I walked towards McDonald's. Started thinking of a high school senior of mine who'd order a Fillet o' fish without tartar sauce.

Friday, July 15, 2005

What you mean you think you driving tofu car?

Today I was waiting at the traffic light.
I saw this really cool sports car. Red colour, convertible with rims. The usual package. With your regular jerk with shades in it.
And I was sure he knew people were looking at his car. Because he did the Vroom Vroom thing, That cocky bastard.
The lights turn green.
The car lets out a loud screech. Tyres burning and all. I think it went from 0-50km/h in about 4 seconds.
And then I heard sirens. A police motorcycle was chasing the car, the policeman signaling him to pull over.
I laughed as loudly as god.
So the guy dragged with a police behind him.
That has to be the shortest speeding distance attempted by men. How stupid can he be? I'd feel like a complete idiot to do that.
It's like Vroom! Siren. Vroom! Siren.
Kept replaying in my mind till now.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Day 20


Shit. My Reading Media Texts tutorial sucks shit.
This is what happened today. We were divided into groups of four. So there's 2 AMB*, a Thai girl and I.
So we were analising the context of The Matrix. (I know it sounds lame, but the girls suggested Titanic at first.)
The 'discussion' were like this:

AMB1: So the matrix is about war right? Because Agent Smith has guns, and guns represents war...
AMB2: The whole purpose of the movie is to tell us who we are and therefore we can be different from others...
AMB1: Totally, like how they put Japanese(?) martial arts in it. I just don't understand why only Neo can get to the real world, why can WE do the same?
AMB2: Yea, I'm kind of confused by the HEY! IS THAT YOUR WEDDING RING? Are you getting married?
AMB1: OMG yes at the end of the year. OMG I'm so excited. He proposed to me at January. And OMG we're going to be in this church, and you gotta see my gown....OMG......
Thai girl and I: ..............

The Kill Bill soundtrack started playing in my mind and I wished that I've got this samurai sword to slash their throats.
I don't think they understand the movie.
And my tutor openly admitted that her all time favourite shows are Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives, and the Nanny.
Fucking first year elective subject.
Many thanks to tiger for demonstrating my anger.

*AMB = Ang Mo Bitches

Sunday, July 10, 2005

No intercourse before game

I was watching the AVIVA Badminton Championship Men's Final on TV. Indonesia's Taufik Hidayat was playing China's Chen Hong for $30,600, in Singapore.
Well, Taufik pretty much kicked Chen's ass like how Ronaldo would kick soccer balls during his penalty shoot out practice.
What I didn't get, is the commentator.
Why is it that we always get Ang Mo's to be a badminton match commentator? Well, Badminton is pretty much dominated by Asians. Ok, Denmark is pretty good, but that's like one western country out of what, two hundred and thirty seven?
Why do we always get British or American commentators telling us if the players are good or not?

For all I know, Taufik might have got lucky on that baseline smash, but NOOO, the commentator has to say 'Oh, what a precise culculation.' 'What a great plan!'
Yea yea yea, and he can read the future and predict the shuttle cock and save the world when aliens attack.

God, you're cuddly!

Stereotyping. Generalisation.
All of us do that. Like, oh Chinese school students suck ass in speaking English. Or, Malays are plain incompetent. Or, Asian girls are easy to get if you're rich, good looking and white. Or simply, black guys have giant cocks.
But what proof have we got when we make such statement? From stupid R&B music? Hollywood movies? From our friend's friend's cousin? What? From newspapers?
I've never seen a black man's cock. I've never worked together with an actual bumi before. I'm not white, so I can't tell you how easy it is to get an Asian chick. Or guy.
Ok. Chinese students DO suck ass in English. That I can prove. I've been studying there for 12 years.
Something else I've got proof and experience, and not 'according to a friend of mine', is that guys are dumbfucked whenever a girl is crying in front of them.
I've had 4 similiar experiences. And most of the time I just sat there and nodded. Say 'uhuh', and nodded again.
And all 4 times, they are crying over guys. Not all of the are of break ups, some were about what a guy said, some were about what a guy didn't say. Some were about a guy leaving.
I hope there's a Man's Survival Guide to Crying Females on the market. And you get instructions like:

Step 1: Hug the designated object. Preferbaly the arms around shoulder. NEVER attempt to give a face to face hug as her tears and mascaras will stain your shirt.
Step 2: Offer tissue/toilet paper. You should remove a couple of sheets off for her and leave the box on the table, with style.
Step 3: Offer warm drinks. Tea or coffee would do. Hot Chocolate would be optimum. Use thermal mug so fingers don't get burnt.
Step 4: Nod and say 'uhuh'. Remember, you can't offer solutions. Just let them cry and let it all out. This step would consume the most time. Allow 15-20 minutes to simmer.
Step 5: Tell jokes. Irony helps. Sometimes toss in some compliments. Recommended phrase: He's gonna regret this.
Step 6: At the end of the session ONLY you should give her a face to face hug. Optimum time of fusion: 4 minutes.

Something like that would be most useful. Instead of me sitting there and not doing anything. Haiya, everybody hurts.
Now my room is filled with the aftertaste of tears. Again.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Laugh talk Cantonese!

I'm sorry. I'm a policeman.

Shit. I haven't laugh so hard for ages.
If you can understand Cantonese, you GOTTA listen to this: Basically it's just two DJ's teaching Cantonese on HK radio.
But they teach authentic slangs and set up senarios to use those 'slangs'. I had the laugh of my life.
Even after a break up.
Now I feel guilty. I should listen to more.
If you understand Canto or just simple curious, download the 51 episodes of the show. Have a laugh of your life.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Everything that has a beginning has an end

Ah. Last night in Sydney.
I think Sydney is the only place that you'll see people wearing suits running around. In Melbourne, 'suit' people are just too stiff to run. They take their time, holding their coffee, pretending they're some cultured people doing something important.
Here, I don't think people give a shit.
Jay-walking is like breathing in Sydney. I actually felt guilty when I waited for the lights to go green.
The strange thing is, I have never seen a bus/train inspector in Sydney so far. And everyone pays for their tickets.
Compared to Melbourne, they're so casual.
We have inspectors wearing their big jackets, flashing their badges, trying to be cool while attempting to fine us.
Every. Single. Chance they've got.
The only time I got fine (which is on my birthday), that bastard actually talked to me about the weather and how beautiful Malaysia was the last time he was on a holiday. Seriously, do I give a FUCK about what you think when I'm going to pay a $150 fine?
Stop pretending like it's your job and you really don't want to do it blah blah blah. I'm sure you enjoy the power.
After failing high school, that's the only thing you can do.
What do you need to obtain to become a tram inspector anyway? A body that fits into their jackets. That's what.
The guards here in Sydney make sure you buy your ticket. Inspectors in Melbourne make sure you get SHIT if you don't buy.
There's a big difference there.
Which reminds me of some time back in Malaysia.
It's Chinese New Year, and everyone is going home.
I remember seeing this policeman sitting just next to the road. Doing nothing. He just sat there under a big umbrella. No speedtrap. Nothing. Just him and his shades.
And cars actually slowed down.
I really respected that cop. Instead of running traps and fining people for speeding. He just sat there. He knew people would think he was setting up a speed trap and eventually slow down.
That's what I call serving the people.
Not asking for kopi money or fining the shit out of us.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Sydney Squared

My camera is still with me, in case you're wondering.
Probably because of that, I'm in a good mood.
Although it's been raining for the past 2 days out of 3.
Finally found the soundtrack of 2046 in Chinatown.
I have to say that was one of my purpose of this trip, subconciously. So Justin, if you're reading this: Abort mission!
And I've spent a fortune on books in Kinokuniya today.
Retail therapy I guess.
Believe it or not, I've finished reading one already.
Harvard in Sydney, out.