Sunday, April 30, 2006

I am Mitsui, and I never give up

Went to play basketball in Albert Park. There were like 20 courts in the hall. Omar and I were saying: OMFG! all the way in.
I guess it because the rim height is official, shots were easier to make. I actually had field goals, instead of the usual 0%.
Towards the end we got challenged by 4 Honkeys. We trashed them 11-1. For the first time in my life I made 4 three pointers.
Game 2, they were marking me like paper clips to magnet, yelling 'Do not let fatboy shoot!' 'I got fatboy!' 'Where's fatboy?' 'Fatboy's got ball! Shit!' 'Mark fatboy! Mark fatboy!'
I guess they assumed I don't understand Cantonese. Anyway, I didn't know how to feel. I'm flattered they thought I was good since I was a fluke in the previous game.
Yet at the same time I was 'fatboy'. Cue the Adam West Batman song: Nananananana Fatboy~ Nanananananana Fatboy~
And then I realised they were wearing yellow, green, blue and green. And our team was all black.
As if they're the Mighty Power Rangers, and we were the faceless black minions in spandex. It was quite surreal.
Song of the week: Things in Life by Dennis Brown.

Finally, friends


Omar: No, MY finger smells better.


Omar invited our opposite neighbour, Tammy and her boyfriend Jason over for dinner yesterday night.
He told them to expect a casual dinner.
And then we dressed up in suits and ties.
I don't think we made good effort in making them feeling comfortable. But then again, who cares about the guests.
But, yea, it's good to have real people around us from time to time. Maybe we should make that a weekly thing.
Since none of our guests ever return. We're trying to figure out what went wrong. Strange thing, that is.
We blame the interior design of Uropa.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

And it runs on poo-disc


No, it's not for the new 747 planes.

This is Nintendo's new platform for gaming.
Frankly, except for the airline entertainment controller, I think it looks the best compared to Xbox 360 and Playstaion 3.
Here's the killer: it's called Wii.
Not a spelling mistake, it's pronounced 'We'. Because Nintendo believes gaming is all about 'we', the consumers.
I still think it's a pretty dumb name for a platform.
'Yo, let's go back to your shack and hit some We.'
'Does your We play DVD?'
'Mom! Alex refused to let me play the We!'
'You heard Moe's got the new We?'
Then again, we'll never know. It might turn out to be the next big thing in gaming history. Weeee~!

Warhol can suck off


Who needs friends?

Parky: You think we should clear the box?
Me: Yea.
Omar: Yea.

(3 days later)

Parky: Hey, we should clear the box.
Me: Uhuh.
Omar: Totally.

(4 days later)

Parky: Hey, the box...
Me: ......
Omar: Gaaaaaaaawwwk!

Fist mark on the alarm clock

So I was late for my Japanese 3 class today.
I mean, seriously, why would ANYONE arrange a class to start at 8.30am, I have absolutely no fucking clue.
So there I was, dashing out from the tram, 5 minutes late. Not a good thing to do since I was planning to arrive early to ask my teacher for permission to re-sit a test I've missed last week.
(Long story, I was in Auckland, remember?)
I charged into Building 6, got into the mighty slow elevator while rapidly fingering the '><' button.
Then I heard someone shouting, 'stop, please, stop!'
I have to admit, it was really one of those 'angel on one side of the shoulder, devil on the other' kind of situation.
Eventually, I pressed the '<>' button last second, cursing my angel away, the devil shaking his head, disapproving.
And guess what, rushing in, panting like Stephen Hawkins, was my teacher. Apparently she was late as well.
At that moment, I experienced what they call an 'invincible' state of mind. It's like me wearing a impenetrable cloak.
But yea, although I got into her good book she still refused to let me sit the test. I should've shut the door with the finger.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Harry's gone female


The doctor will attend to you shortly.

It must've been ape years since I've played the first Silent Hill on Playstation. Shit it was on PSOne even.
PSOne to kids nowadays might be like Tetris to us when we were young. Wait, maybe Tic Tac Toe.
Anyway, yea, I still remember the goosebumps whenever I listen to the opening theme song of the game.
I'm just happy that someone's gonna shit in their pants watching the movie. Then again, I'm afraid the movie might suck.
Just like any other game made movie. Or like how your girlfriend cheated on you with another girl. Sigh.
At least the posters are cool.

Titanic 2: Jack, is back!

Curving stripes


Forget about Sun Yat Sen's second wife, Parky.

Can't believe I was doing the exact same thing same time last year. But hey, it's mere coincidence that I bumped into her this time.
I think she's gone through surgery.
But I don't really care anyway. I don't understand the media hype around her breasts. It's not like my life's going to be affected.
Then again, maybe there's a whole stock market following her bossums. There might even be bets in casinos: On the betting table instead of Black/Red you say Real/Fake.
But yumm, corsets. With laces. Mmm.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Time OUT


The new eye cutting knife, by Ikea. $19.90

Seems like everytime I go somewhere, I'll end up finishing a book or a movie. I don't know why, some strange habit I have.
Or maybe I'm just sad and lonely.
Anyway, I got hold of this book because of Stan, my Copywriting lecturer. He used the first paragraph for a writing exercise.
This books, is simply sick. And awfully real.
As in, I can imagine somewhere in Japan, people are going through identical lives, suffering from the same problems.
Ok, so the story is about 4 women working night shift in a bento box assembling factory. They live different lives with different families, but suffer from similar reasons to work for that extra money during odd hours. Unhappy yet common lives.
Your attention gets sucked in when one of the lady accidentally killed her abusive husband. And after telling her friends they decided to help her getting rid of the body...
No, it's not as simple as you think. More people got involved along the way, and more perversive human behaviour unfolded.
I'd recommend it for people above the age of 23. Which I am not. But I'm already screwed in the mind since 8 anyway.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Reserved for giant pole dancers


Auckland Tower, mmmeh.

I don't know, it's as if a city's not a city unless you've got a tower in it. Something taller than the other buildings.
I don't get the logic of it. Symbolism, maybe.
This picture was taken when I was walking across the street. The traffic lights there work together in all four corners.

Which means we could cross diagonally.
But I'm sure there's nothing new about that.

Wish you were here


The starting point of Princes Wharf.

Can't believe I spent only half a day in the city. Actually it was only Queen Street. But meh, it's not my first time here.
This whole trip I didn't even buy a single thing. Ok, except for that advertising 'sisomo' book but that's for educational purpose.
If I didn't bother to buy souvenirs, my expense would be under $50. Ah, the benefits of having a sibling somewhere far away...

Something I'd like to un-see in Auckland


Brenda? Is that, is that really you?

Who didn't let the dogs out

The single most important quote I've learned from Auckland: "Don't ever try to argue with stupid people, because they will bring you down to their level and beat you with experience."

Auckland Airport, immigration counter.
I handed my passport and departure card to the lady.
She looked around and read everything and started doing the 'ask questions to show I'm doing my job' thingy.
' So, do you live in Melbourne, or you're going back to Hong Kong?' She looked straight into my eyes.
Hong Kong? HONG KONG? Which part of my passport or my departure card said I'm from HONKEY TONG?
The job of immigration officers are to check if there's any incoherency in the details. Hence the 'asking questions' shit, in case you can't even answer simple questions.
And obviously she didn't even read both documents properly. What, do I look like I'm from Hong Kong but pretending to be a Malaysian? Yea, that'll make sense. Ptuui!
That's not all, she said: you're a student huh? I'm like, what, you have a problem with that? 'Where's your student visa?' she asked.
'I can't find it in your passport.' And she started flipping through my 'only used up 2 pages' passport.
Where. Is. My. Student. Visa? The whole fuckin' world is using electronic visa today you brown cow!
(Ok, maybe only Australia, but I was on a roll there. Besides, they live just across the street, they should know anyway.)
And she still gave me that skeptical look when I explained that to her in approved English, that 'don't know real or not' face.
I'm not being racist, but just extremely harsh to dumb people.
But THIS is the racist part:
Everytime I arrive Melbourne from Malaysia, they've always got those pain in the ass dogs walking around sniffing shit all, right?
Because, oooh, we might be hiding drugs underneath our shoe soles or in between our lugguage or teddy bears.
There were no dogs when I arrived from New Zealand.
The whole place was empty! It took 10 minutes for my bag to roll out, and another 5 minutes later I was talking to Shameer the cab driver about his IT degree in India!
Where's the 'I'm sorry you've been randomly chosen to be probed in the anus'? Where's the 'I'm sorry I don't believe you've got nothing to declare so just go to lane 5 anyway'?
So people from New Zealand won't smuggle drugs. But a country with a name you can't pronounce? Unleash the dogs!

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

P for Parnell, and Pizza


Well, at least the juice will give me vitamins.

This was at some woodfire pizza restaurant called Gibraltar. Wood fire pizza, yea, heard of. But bacon & egg pizza?
Bacon & egg pizza? WTF? It was good. Oh, so good.
And this was during I had my sore throat. Oh, but it's so worth it. Cough. And I wonder why I'm still sick.
I think I'm my worst enemy.

Something strange in the neighbourhood

This is my brother's story.
Actually it's about his ex-housemate.
When my brother first set up his house, he looked for a housemate. Of course, many people applied.
In the end he decided to go for the most culculative guy, since being culculative normally means non messy aftermath.
They live well together and that's that.
One midnight, my brother woke up to get something from the kitchen, and he saw his housemate in the lounge.
Wearing a superhero costume.
Think 'There's something about Mary'. Think the pink one that Ben Stiller bought for her retarded brother Warren. Yes, THAT superhero costume. And he was holding a cricket bat.
My brother went: Hey man, watcha up to?
The guy replied: Nothing much, cleaning up the streets.
Shocked, scared as well as amused, he went to office the next day and told his collegues about Auckland Superman.
His collegues went: AUCKLAND SUPERMAN IS YOUR HOUSEMATE?? HOLY SHIT DUDE! FAR OUT!
So Mr. housemate here is well known in Auckland.
And apparently he's schizo. He had no idea what he did at night. His girlfriend said it happened after he got fired from his job.
So now he's just walking around at night in his costume and his cricket bat helping people in need. During midnight. In Surburbia.
My brother said he liked opening the garage door narrowly, and roll into the house instead of walking.
Too bad my brother found new housemates. I was so ready to stay up all night with my camera in the dark.
I guess my question is: If a schizo superman can get a girlfriend, why can't I get one?! ARRGH! I need to buy them pink costumes!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Piano Story III


Stop playing! I'm stuck in the piano here!

Ok, this has nothing to do with Auckland.
Just that I think I should post this before I post anything else. You know, following the time line thingy.
The day before I left, I actually went to the National Theatre for this piano concert thingy. Ya know, me ripping people off.
Pretending I'm a photographer.
I guess it's just karma that I get really sick now.
Yea, it was just a concert full of jealousy. How I wished I could play the piano, or the violin. Or look as beautiful as the violinist.
Wait, did I just say that?

Monday, April 17, 2006

Flu in Auckland

Well, I taught my brother how to use blogger.
As I was playing the BB gun rifle game in the Easter show, my mind was just wondering: how the fuck did I end up here?
Yesterday I was still eating Weetbix with milk while Parky studied/ checked me out in Melbourne.
And now I'm in this foreign-but-4th time here Auckland shooting targets while my head kills me.

Meanwhile my brother's going 'DIE DIE DIE!' beside me. Well, not really, but you get the idea. He's turning 30 soon.
My legs were basically sore the whole day. Can't believe I caught cold after recovering from my sore throat.
Paracetamol is my friend.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Reflection of waves

Okay, so I was walking home from Royal Parade, right? And it was 11.30 at night, mmhm? Pretty dark, you see.
Being chicken shit and all, normally I'd sing to myself: some childhood tunes, opera songs, vocal chords, you get the idea.
I decided to do scales I learned from my vocal lessons x years ago. It's goes mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi.... in a do re mi fa so tune.
But then, I saw this guy cycling towards my direction. And I was pretty annoyed, because I had to stop singing and not finish my scale. I didn't want to feel all embarassed and scare the shit out of an innocent cyclist like a crazy man.
The guy zoomed past me singing: LA LA LA LA LA~
I couldn't stop laughing for quite some time.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Might not be that funny if you're a banana

Me: Hey, go watch Crash. Super good movie.
X: I saw the trailer. So so only.
Me: Well...Vendetta's trailer was shit.
X: okla, better than Final Destination 3.
Me: Yea fuck, what 'This time, death will finish them'.
X: LOL, yea the tagline. Hahahahahha. I could hear my brain let out a small dry laughter. Haha. Hahah.
Me: My brain just shut down.
X: 这次,死亡会干掉他们
Me: Hahahah. Yea, but if it's in Taiwan they might make it sound cooler. 这次,死亡将会是他们的终极终点
X: Hahaha. This is good. What's the Chinese name for this movie anyway? (searched for 23.13 seconds)

死神来了。(Here comes the God of Death.)

Both: HAHAAHAHHAHAHA~!
X: There's another one, 绝命终结站. But still cheap.
Me: But translation wrong what. Then it becomes 'Lethal Terminator Station'. HAaa HAhahh ahaha.
X: Ahahahahha. But damn classic. 'Here come God of Death'.

Well, at least it wasn't 'Alice's Wet Wonderland'

During my Japanese class on Friday, I was given a torn out TV guide from some Japanese newspaper.
You know, so that we could have conversations about what program was showing on which channel at what time.
So at some point the teacher came and asked if I recognised any Kanji(similar to Chinese) characters that I could read.
I said yes, I recognised '温泉'(Hot Spring), and I could read '美人' (Beauty) as well. But then I realised I shouldn't have said that.
Because at that very same second, I realised that 'Hot Spring Beauty' might be an adult film, or something equivalent.
Well, the worst part is, she announced it to the whole class: 'Everybody, Harvard found something naughty...'
And then I could hear my brain folding into a shape of an Origami frog and started to hop inside my head.
Yea, I guess now I'm regarded as the dodgy 'Hot Spring Beauty' guy in my class. At least Easter starts this week and I don't have to see them for 2 weeks. Hopefully they'll forget about it.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

It is a beautiful day


Carbonara: Hey black boy, you new here?

A wise Indonesian man once said: 'It takes three tries to get a Spaghetti Carbonara right.' Ok, maybe he didn't say that.
But it's true. I finally got it right the third time. Don't you fucking snicker on me. The cook book says the difficulty is 2 pots ok.
Ok fine, so I've been using thickened cream instead of normal cream all this while. But it's not my fault.
Have you got any idea where they put normal cream in Safeway? Yea, right ON TOP of the shelves. That's not eye level man. So uncool. And there's only one brand of cream compared to the brazillian types of thick creams. I suspect conspiracy.
The Vege-Chicken stir fried noodles however, took me an hour. That's because you have to fry the noodles till crispy brown first.
It's been a while since we've had such a good meal. Ask Parky, ask Omar, it's so good that we sang 'My Humps' after the meal.
Despite the awful cold and wind, it was a great day. An assignment done, an idea approved, and Crash DVD bought for $20.
Now I need that phone call from the girl of my dreams.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Finally, RAIN


And the perfect match for cold weather.

I like rain. I like cold.
Maybe after 19 years of M'sian weather, cold seems appealing. But there's a catch, girls cover themselves up during cold weather.
I guess you can't have everything.
My notebook got completely soaked. On the day I decided not to bring my bag, the sky decided to shit water.
Discovery #391: You can use egg timer as an alarm clock for napping. Should've realised that earlier.
I still think Koko Black's hot chocolate is the best in Melbourne. But Brunetti's Italian hot chocolate is great as well. Hmm.
It's like choosing between wealth and good looks.

Parky cooking dinner


Introduction to Halal meat.

Parky was cooking dinner when Omar suddenly decided to do some push ups. One leads to another and this picture was taken.
Random and bizarre, I know. You can so see Omar's expression of shock. Sorry for the poor quality, I was in a rush.
But it really gives a documentary feel. I like.

Baboo. Baboo, baboo, baboo...

Last week, under some reasons I could not remember, I was discussing the issue of breasts with a girl.
We were talking about how flat chests are getting fashionable. How Hollywood is paying more attention to the women with less appealing figures. You know, Paris Hilton, Mischa "that girl from OC", Keira Knightley etc.
My conclusion: If your breasts are small, they must be real.
Seriously, you can't go through a breast transplant and come out with a 32A. Either your surgeon's ripping you off, or he'd done the best he could, which is sad as well.
Yea, so that's why you get guys having the hots for the ironing boards in Hollywood. Because it's good to know that there're some real breasts out there. It's like a reality show thing.
Thus my friend asked me another question: Would men actually mind whether the breasts are fake or not?
Again, my answer: We can't do anything about it.
Seriously, if you were to have a breast transplant, would you actually go around telling people 'hey these aren't real, oh gosh feel them now!', especially to your date?
Of course not. So the only time the guy get to clarify the authenticity of your bossums, is when you guys get it on.
That's after exchanging phone numbers. After 2 weeks of courtship. After a $90 concert. After a $200 dinner. After a $40 flower. After exchanging salivas and whipping out his belt like Indiana Jones and pushing him down while handcuffing yourself.
Then you take off your wonderbra or the new Air-pump silver bra, or the pads underneath the bra. Maybe you reveal the scar under the areola. Or you tell him 'I just finished renovating them'.
And you see this pathetic, red faced, vein popping, panting, sweating, drooling piece of art by God, kneeling in front of you.
"I'm sorry, but I have a thing against fake titties" would probably be the absolute last thing this creature could utter.
So I guess my conclusion is that, no, men doesn't give a shit if they're fake or not. They're just happy to get breasts.
And even if they do, you wouldn't possibly know. He's totally spent too much effort getting to them.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Sze Chuan Noodles Ver 2.0


Now with pasta, egg, chili and celery.

One thing I learned about cooking, is that cookbooks are merely guides, not a Bible you stick your face into.
If you feel like switching the ingredients, why not? If you think adding certain spices will enhance the taste, go ahead.
(Translation: This afternoon I found out that we ran out of normal noodles. Couldn't be bothered going to the grocery shop, used pasta instead. Added chili and celery because they seemed expired. Eggs are great to cover up the smell.)
I'm currently working on a newspaper ad about depression.
When I realised I was dancing to Dil Se's 'Chaiyya Chaiyya' at 3.30 in the am, I knew I'm pretty fucked for this assignment.
Mental illness suits me more, maybe?

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Wonderful world of reality

A man waved down a police car on a highway.
He asked them if they know the way to Uluru.
The policemen looked at him for 5 seconds, then his partner. He then said 'it's just right behind you, sir'.
Uluru is 1,115 feet tall, previously known as Ayer's Rock.
The man got charged for drink driving.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November


The poster looks more like an ad for barbers.

Ok, I have to admit I was really sceptical about another movie of a masked comic superhero. Think Spawn, think Zorro, think Hulk.

Then again, I'm such a weak sucker that once someone tells me the movie is awesome, I'd watch it.
Especially if that person is a girl.
I mean, hey, if a girl'd say an action movie is awesome, that'd mean something, right? Just like if a meatlover tells you that a certain restaurant serves good carrot, it has to be some hell of a carrot, no?
Anyway. V for Vendetta is one of the year's better movies. That's a pretty bold statement, I know.
If you were to tell me you didn't like it after watching it, I'll judge poorly on you.That's how good it is.
Meanwhile, I can't help thinking of someone across the world is blogging about how shit the movie was and if someone liked it he must be a retard, stupid, tasteless etc.
I like how stupid people call other people dumb. I like to see fat people calling others obese, short people regarding other as midgets etc. The paradox is hillarious. Speaking of which, here's my favourite line of the movie:

Who--who are you?
Who? Who is but the form following the function of what... and what I am is a man in a mask.
I can see that.
Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking on the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Hugo Weaving should be given a medal for this movie, although he's behind the mask for 137 minutes of the movie.
Mr. Smith is so sexy. Grrar. So was the bald Natalie. Actually no, I still like my girl with long, straight, silky hair. Fine, just hair then.