Monday, May 30, 2005

There's something wrong with the coffee today. I'm not usually so chatty, but here I am. Chatty. And a little jittery. And a fair bit bitey too. Also, I can't seem to stop shaking my legs. I feel both tired and energetic at the same time. What's there left to say? Some coffee are not meant to be drunk.

I would like to talk about my lizard today. No, this is not a cryptically veiled reference to my penis. This is the rubber lizard I bought from Toys'R'Us when I was there with my lil sis a long time ago in a toyshop not too far, far away.

My lizard has no name. It's a fair indication of how far I have progressed into the realm of the insensitive. I used to give names to everything. My car. My pen. My other pen. And the other one too. My water bottle +1. My hard drives ( it's actually just one hard drive, but it's partitioned into two, so I gave them both different names ). One might say I am too sentimental. But I have been working hard to get rid of my sentimentality. And now, I stand at the peak of insensitivity. So my lizard has no name.

I brought my lizard to the office to scare the girls. It actually works very well with a couple of people. I remember a couple of screams - they were musical. Unfortunately, after nearly half a year of having the rubber lizard thrown at them, they've gotten pretty jaded with it. One might say that all good things come to an end. It is time to throw real lizards around the office. You know, the ones which can potentially crawl up your ass and lay little lizard eggs in your lower intestines.

Not too long ago, an American engineer was sent from Plantation to help some of my colleagues in Penang. He was big and hairy, and worthy of a cameo in Planet of the Apes. My feelings towards him were neutral, until he started abusing my lizard in ways that were both inhumane and revolting. To go into detail would be too troubling. Suffice to say, my lizard is no longer the same lizard it was. Worse, after he left, my colleagues started taking sadistic pleasure in repeating the perverted acts on my lizard. Now, my lizard undergoes physical abuse everyday. It is a sorrow to watch, but such is life.
From A Frightened Malaysian abroad

Thanks to Von Darke for this. His blog might be dead, but his spirit lives on in the Internet. Amen.

I was talking to a friend of mine about this, and she said that it's not only a racial issue - it's also a matter of economic class. The other races might think that they're getting shafted, but I guess if you're of the right race but living on the wrong side of the economic divide, you're getting shafted too. Hey, anytime you live on the wrong end of the great divide, you're so shafted.

What can I do? This is my country. I love my country, although on occasion I harbour homicidal thoughts towards those bastard motorists who turn without turning on their signal lights. Is it SO HARD to turn on the signal lights? What, retarded ar the hand? No strength to flick the light on is it? Backside so heavy until hand also cannot lift aR? KANEH.

This is why *I* should run Malaysia. In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, I will establish the First Malaysian Empire, for a safe and secure society which I assure you will last for ten thousand years. An empire that will continue to be ruled by an august body of advisors from all the races of Malaysia, and a sovereign ruler chosen for life. An empire ruled by the majority, ruled by a new constitution. We will annex Thailand and Singapore. Thailand, because they let those Japs-on-bicycles through during WW2. Singapore, because apparently they're very kiasu ( or so I've been told - all the Singaporeans I've met have been friendly so far *shrug* ).

And of course, if our countrymen don't turn on their signal lights when they want to turn, we will chop off their fucking hands and hang those severed limbs from the lamp posts.

Long live the Malaysian Empire.
Datuk Vader.
Ya, Tuan Ku.

It's odd, but I don't remember that part being in Star Wars: The Revenge of the Sith. Either I really missed it or the radio trailer was FABRICATED. We caught the movie over the weekend, after which we caught Madagascar, after which we caught House of Wax - not a bad way to spend a Saturday.

This is the end. I might never see unfamiliar paragraphs of scrolling Star Wars text again on the big screen. I felt a little sad when I saw the scrolling text, but that all faded away with the glorious opening battle. Very nice. They could have done away with the ridiculous buzzdroid sequence and focused on more ship-to-ship combat though.

Episode 3 was good. I liked it a lot. There was a lot of action. There was a lot to like. It was more to the spirit of the original Star Wars, and had none of the weird aura that permeated episodes 1 and 2. Anakin finally looked good, and I think Obiwan was approaching the look of Alec Guinness. Which is a good thing.

On the home front, I've been busy with work. When I'm not busy with work, there's my new PC taking up my time and of course, TGIQ. TGIQ is undoubtedly my favourite pastime. Doom 3 is taking up my gaming time. It's anathema for the guy who's afraid of the dark, which just spurs me on to finish it. So instead of the "Doom 3 is my DESTINY" line I used to spout, now it's the "I WILL force my cowardly ass to finish Doom 3". Yes, I like scaring my shit white.

Doom 3 is good. It is scary. The shadows are dark, and there's nothing more thrilling than running backwards screaming with a horde of lost souls chasing after you... and then finding out that the door you came through earlier is now mysteriously locked. Or painstakingly clearing out an area and then having some zombie marine appearing behind you to pump you full of lead. It is dark. It is scary. It is glorious. By midgame I was still a little jumpy, although I was starting to get jaded. Or maybe the game was turning from "in your face" scary to "hell is breaking loose" scary.

Doom 3. Good game. Before that I did Painkiller and the Battle out of Hell expansion. Frantic is the word, similar to Serious Sam.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

After three days of diarrhea and one day of constipation, I finally managed to expel good healthy stools out of my body. Mind you, they were not of the "slip out of you with the greatest of ease" variety I experienced back in Plantation *sob*, but they were healthy. A bit dark in colour and sticky and perhaps a tad smellier than usual, but still, healthy. There was no pain. There was no blood. Just a deep satisfaction that my digestive system and my bowels are back in working order. And of course, that nice happy feeling you get after you manage to successfully dislodge a whole chunk of shit via your ass without rupturing the anal walls. Man, that was close to a religious experience.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Does anyone know where my Carnivale DVDs went to? If you do, please tell me.

In other news, Happy Labour Day. FYI, I was down with fever headache diarrhea swollen eyes during the whole weekend plus the Monday replacement holiday. While this allowed me to finish up my Police Squad! and Doctor Who episodes and also progress in Painkiller, it also left me stuck in my house and left me wide open to a lot of feverish dreams. Why are the dreams you get when you have fever always the weirdest and therefore, the most interesting ones? I do not *know*, but I could probably do without dreams where I'm shocked back into the waking world by large furry caterpillars crawling all over the wet rock I'm on. Or dreams where I meticulously slice off someone's head. I knew watching those terrorist hostage head-cutting videos were going to have a bad effect someday. I just didn't realize that I would be doing the cutting.

Right now, I'm weak. Too much water in me. Not enough solid food. I get a rush everytime I eat something, but soon after that the burst of strength fades away and I'm less than Clark Kent. Heck, right now, I'm feeling like a wad of tissue paper floating in the toiletbowl right after someone's done jacking off into it. Full of something liquidy and ready to be flushed. And I can't even fart anymore you know. I fear that I'll accidentally shit soft smelly yellow liquid stools into my pants. It's really smelly. Like something died and was left half-submerged in a pool of faeces. I've actually smelled that before a long time ago. Throw in the crawling maggots you don't realize until it's too late and you get one fun experience.

Ohkay. So maybe the fever's still having some kind of after effect. All I know is I'm feeling very weak now. And a little dizzy. Which is why I ate meat for lunch. Meat. MEAT. Nice chicken meat. *cluck*. I hope I don't go puking around later.