tightpantiz

2005-07-06T08:56:00.000-07:00

While I'm writing this, I am also chatting on another window. So pardon the crappy post.

I will write something on the topic of job and pay satisfaction in light of the recent focal review.

I noticed that 9/10 people you meet are farking liars when it comes to answering job-related queries.

Since there's a code-name for practically every annoying prick in al-terror courtesy of the super-owning-tea-sessions we hendrixes are having recently, I will not use arbitrary names for the subsequent fictional characters in the subsequent fictional story (lest they be mistaken for another codename). Instead, I will use myself.

Story: The typical encounter with da long-lost pal.
Friend: Eh Ghei(3) Luo(1), hen jiu mei you zian!
GL: Eh hi man.
Friend: Ni hai shi chuo zai Al-terror ar?
GL: Err, yeah.
Friend: Oooh, wah, sen shui hen kao liao leh? (smiles, but actually thinking -> you cibai loser, can't even find a new job...HAHAHA)
GL: Err, no lah. How about you?
Friend: (at this point, friend remembers i'm banana). Oh, normal lor.
GL: So ni zhuo lao pan liao?
Friend: (smiles, but actually thinking -> don't talk mandarin la u bananafied-fucker) Hahaha, mei you lah. Just normal engineer onli la.

Okay, I'll stop this obviously very very typical dialogue at this point to highlight some points.

1) If GL asked, "Eh but I thought last time you said you want to be manager by 28? So now how?" Then several learning points will present itself.

1.1: Friend is actually CBB liar. He already section head. Just that he dunwan to tell you. Why he do that? I dunno, maybe its related to why we still find tycoons driving bmws haggling for discounts at Khaleel. "5 setengah ka? 5 ringgit cukup la.. cari makan saja".

1.2: Friend is really just your average IPP (Insignificant Polygon Puller). He knows very well you are also just an average ISD (Insignificant Silicon Debugger). He was being anal by suggesting that your salary must now be very high. In which case, he is still CBB.

1.3: Again, friend is IPP but you sudah jadi SMSSD (Slightly More Significant Silicon Debugger). But he actually doesn't want to hear about it, nor would be happy if you did tell him about it. And per point 1.1, you also won't divulge your job upgrade. It's just the rules of the game.

So what's the point ladies and gentlemen? Well, that's it. There is no point. The entire conversation is bogus. Like I said, talking about your job these days have been reduced to a pointless formality leaving either party neither the wiser. What? You were expecting a mentally edifying conversation like "Well, my current status is such that I am at the top 10 percentile of the FTZ workforce from my recent self-assesment (which I conduct on a quarterly basis), while my salary reflects that I am regarded as the top 25 percentile. I have drafted a 3 month plan to realign my skills vs compensation fulcrum which involves "

Mai kap siao la.

Ok la. Good night good people of Penang. Like I said, this post was going to crappy.

I'll stop being gay tommorow.

2005-06-29T06:45:00.000-07:00

She'll let you in her car to go driving around. She'll let you into the parts of herself that'll bring you down. She'll let you in her heart, if you got a hammer and a vice but into her secret garden, don't think twice. You've gone a million miles, how far'd you get? To that place where you can't remember, and you can't forget. She'll lead you down a path, there'll be tenderness in the air. She'll let you come just far enough, so you know she's really there. She'll look at you and smile, and her eyes will say, she's got a secret garden.

Where everything you want, where everything you need, will always stay a million miles away.

Untold Love Story

2005-06-26T07:57:00.000-07:00

I read this story off the internet. It moved me greatly and so I am including it here. I make no intention of plagiarizing this work - after all I believe it is the author's intention to have this story told to as many people as possible.

Here goes (it's long, but once you start reading it won't seem that long):

An Untold Love Story

By Yagmur Dursun

2005/03/13

My name is Yagmur (it means "rain"). I was born in rural Turkey, in a village. Generally Turkish women enjoy many freedoms, which our Arab sisters can’t even think of. Rural Turkey is a different story. Honour killings take place every day, women don’t have much say (if any) in household matters and female employment is out of question. However, much hard work is done by women because men don’t want to strain themselves; women are like cattle or slaves. If husband tells you to do something, you have to obey.

My mother was a fairly educated woman, she taught me at home and I even went to school. My hobby was reading books. Through them I learnt different languages and acquired a lot of knowledge.

I was a disciplined and obedient girl, unlike my sister who was somewhat uppity. When she was 18, she fell in love with a young man. They both loved each other but he was meant for another girl, thus his parents had decided. Dating is utterly forbidden in Islam, marriages are arranged and often young people meet on their wedding day.

My sister was rebellious. She “dated” that young man. Every night she would go to see him. They even kissed and actually their relationship went too far. She got pregnant. At first they planned to run away to a big city where they would be safe. They knew in villages, religion rules and they could be in trouble. Authorities don’t care what’s going on in rural Turkey. Sometimes imams, mullahs and elders who try to practice Sharia and break the secular state law are punished but usually authorities are more interested in big cities full of tourists and turn a blind eye to what happens in villages.

I remember their young faces. I didn’t understand the whole situation; I was a little girl. But when I looked at them I could see they were happy. Their happiness made me happy too and I wanted to smile.

Instead of eloping, they decided to speak to my father. "Pregnancy is a very good reason to get permission for marriage", or so they thought.

Alas, my sister had miscalculated my father’s love for her and his obsession with his religion. He became furious. Instead of letting the two young lovers marry and build their nest of love, he took her to the religious elders and they ruled that she had committed adultery. She was sentenced to death by stoning. They showed no mercy even for her unborn child. She had stained the “honour” of the family and the only way to remove that stain was to nip her life in the bud. Her unborn baby was a stain too and that little creature had to be destroyed as well, so my family could live honorably.

In the evening before her execution, she came to my room and told me that she would miss me. She was crying and hugged me to her bosom. Then she smiled and said that soon she would see her unborn baby. I was blissfully unaware of her fate, but I felt that something bad was about to happen. I was so scared!

I still remember her black eyes; she stared at the sky while she was dug into the ground. She was wrapped in white sheets and her hands were tide to her body. She was buried up to her waist. The rabid mob circled her with stones in their hands and started throwing them at her while the roars of Allah-u-Akbar Allah-u-Akbar added to their frenzy. She twitched with pain as the stones hit her tender body and smashed her head. Blood gushed out from her face, cheeks, mouth, nose and eyes. All she could do was to bend to the left and to the right. Gradually the movements slowed down and finally she stopped moving even though the shower of the stones did not stop. Her head fell on her chest. Her bloodied face remained serene. All the pain had gone. The hysteric mob relented and the chant of Allah-u’Akbar stopped. Someone approached and with a big boulder in his hand smashed the scull of my sister to finish her off. There was no need for that; she was already dead. Her bright black eyes that beamed with life were shut. Her jovial laughter that filled the world around her was silenced. Her heart that beat with such a heavenly love for only a short time had stopped. Her unborn baby was not given a chance to breathe one breath of air. He (or she) accompanied his young mother in her solitary and cold tomb, or who knows, maybe to a better place where love reigns and pain and ignorance are not known. These two budding lives had to be nipped so my father could keep his honour.

She wanted to marry a man whom she loved. She dreamt wearing a white wedding dress, that there would be a big ceremony, lots of people would be invited and they all would congratulate her, chant merry songs and throw flowers and confetti at her. Yes there was a ceremony, but it was not her wedding. She was dressed in white but that was not her wedding gown. Lots of people came to the party but they came to curse her and to throw stones at her. No music was played and no merry songs were sang; only screams of Allah-u-Akbar filled the air. The only hug she got was from the cold earth in which she was half buried. The only kisses that she received were from the rocks thrown at her that tore her flesh and broke her bones. They were the kisses of death. She was not united with the man whom she loved but was wed to death.

This was a tragedy for my sister’s young lover. His life lost its meaning. He got lashes but nothing more. He could well forget about the whole affair and get along with his life, but he didn't. I recall seeing him standing in front of our house every day, as if waiting for my sister to come out and meet him. I could see him crying. I can only imagine that when he was not crying in front of our house he was in the cemetery, crying over the grave of his love and his baby. One day he could no more bear his pain and hanged himself.

His death was hushed and no one talked about it. Maybe no one cared. He was reunited with his love and his baby. No one can hurt them anymore. No one can separate them from one another again.

It is a sad story. But unlike the story of Romeo and Juliet it is a story that is never told. No one talks about those young lovers. No one sheds tears for them. Not only they were buried, their memories were also buried as if they never existed - their tender love was a shame to others - a shame that had to be washed with blood.

But the saddest part is that according to Islam my sister deserved that death. The elders were sure she would be burning in Hell for eternity. No, I can't imagine that God can send someone to Hell for loving and for being happy. I can't accept a cruel God.

I just want to say that what happened to the couple was wrong. I don't want to comment on anything beyond that (i.e. religion and faith).

A Philosophical Discussion

2005-06-22T08:24:00.000-07:00

Okay I know everyone's a lazy baby and no one likes a post with lotsa words but I came across Khalil Gibran's The Prophet on the internet (owing to Achew's blog post) and I can't help but to seek YOUR HELP in helping me understand this.

How do you see this piece of text?

On Joy & Sorrow

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Thanks and Regards.

Ah Loong

2005-06-20T00:09:00.000-07:00

I bought "The Story of Ah Loong" DVD (pirated, 2-in-1 summore) from BJC last Friday. Damn fak the DVD was so cibai quality that when Ah Loong was racing he was like terenjut-enjut and that grandfather-of-all-sad-songs (there... that FAMOUS ah loong theme song that guarantee make you cry wan) oso tercekik cekik.

But still I endured the 'enjutan-setiap-30-saat' DVD and watched it because I am a DIE-HARD fan of this movie.

But Chow Yun Fatt really look sohai in that hair cut la. It was like short at the ears then progressively lengthens towards the back. Haha I wonder if ddcat should cut his hair like that. Then he can be our AH LOONG!!

The movie made me wanna write my own super-owning sad story. You guys wait I tell 'ya, I'll write a story so so sad even your panties will be wet with tears.

Haha.

There is nothing worse than a sharp photograph of a fuzzy idea

2005-06-16T17:41:00.000-07:00

That quote was from Ansell Adams - perhaps the most prolific nature photographer that I know of.

And that quote was taken of this article.

How to make great photographs

Indeed a very wordy article, but it has some very interesting ideas. Sometimes the link won't work - that's just a bandwidth problem.

Enjoy!

Bo Gam Guan

2005-06-15T04:58:00.000-07:00

I name this photo: Denied.

Actual situation: Older brother and younger brother on boat to Pangkor. Older brother don't let younger brother play gameboy. Younger brother pretends to admire ocean but dalam hati "u big faker!! someday i will beat you in DotA!!"

Mai Kap Siao

2005-06-13T07:56:00.000-07:00

Here's to the hendrix vocabulary.

Pimp
The youngest of all hendrixes, yet mulut photon cannon. Inventor of words like 'waramashit', 'marafaka' and 'awang mahadi'. Responsible for owning phrases like "as in a million years" and "what I don't understand is [insert condescending remark here, say for example "why must be tmnet certified modem"]".

Mut
Not the oldest of all hendrixes, yet very the bapuk-san cibai. Plagiarizer of words like 'emobapuk' and came up with a few CBB statements like "Fak you!! Fak you all to hell!" (following the episode where me and achew wore his moto-helmet and ran around the department shouting 'ta kip! ta kip!').

Gaylord
Still not the oldest, but possibly the most CBB. Inventor of many words that never caught on (like waramarasakura) and a so-called-non-allowable-english-hokkien-combo that goes 'damn(1) ci(3)bai(3) <-- pronounce to pinyin. Most CBB because he tries to be an online physics teacher from time to time.

Achew
Could be the oldest, could also be the most CBB, could also be the most emobapuk. Strong contender in all categories - everything oso he lao-liap. Inventor of creative codenames like 'Hedge Are' and 'Al-Terror'. And of course, the patent-pending-as-in-a-million-years line that goes "HAHAHAHAHAHA :D"

Ddcat
The only 'daddy' in da geng. Originator of acronyms like CBM and CBB. Cibai-fy existing neutral statements like 'chi mou' and creator of 'finger of death' rating system.

But the most unique and prolific phrase used by Hendrixes did not come from any of its gang members - yes boys and girls I'm talking about the 'shi zai shi..' and the 'wo hui qu...' series.

Shi zai shi... cha/cibai/lansi/puki/etc.
Wo hui qu mai... dong xi/he sui/etc.

In fact, the 'shi zai shi' phrase is so popular that ddcat once said "If i get a gold piece for everytime I hear shi zai shi cha I can buy a bungalow in Bukit Gambier".

Happy Shiny People Holding Hands

2005-06-12T23:46:00.000-07:00

Okie now for the good things zinging and phishing in Carebear-Land.

For one, my grasshead is OWNING! Yups, there are 11 CBMs on my grasshead in total and they're all growing tall and lanky and I'm so proud of them. *sniff* It seems like only yesterday they were wee infants and now the oldest CBM is asking to go for driving lessons and money to buy an Integra (touched).

Secondly, I saw two great movies over the weekend. First was Sin City, which was so mind-blowingly good I want to dedicate another post entirely to it. Second was Madagascar which was not less good - but since it's more common I won't talk so much about it la. My favourite character in Madagascar is Skipper (the penguin). Diabolical I say these penguins are - and their fat clumsy demeanor somehow reminds me Telur Teoh (oh wait i think that's because they both got no neck! haha).

Finally, I'm inside a whale.

Waramarasakura you say? Okie, thing is... I'm playing in the upcoming La Fete De La Musique under the band name "Inside a Whale". At this point, I don't know if it's a good thing or if my ass's gonna get owned 365 as I'm really busy with work (hence too tired to practice most of the time) but somehow I'm kinda excited too. Ah well, we'll see what happens and if does work out I'll post about it next week.

Wokie dokie. My flu medicine is makin me drowsy... talk to you later.

Drawn into your magnet tar pit trap - Nirvana

2005-06-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

Oh shit I'm sick.

Bad things are bubbling up the tar pit I tell 'ya bad things.

Firstly my DSP patterns don't seem to ever wanna pass VCS simulation. Basically, the test is about one LFSR generating a pseudo-random bitstream fed simulataneously into a DSP block and a LE-based multiplier. The outputs from the DSP and LE Multiplier are then compared (they should be the same) and if there's an error, it engages a circuitry to latch the DSP and LE Mult outputs by parallelly shifting it to a shift register and then serially shifting the contents out.

First the DSP output was fucked - tracing the output signal in VCS reveals the dual-function mux gating off sveral DSP outputs because it so happened that these DSP outputs were routed to test pins and the chip also happened to be in pseudo-test mode. So solved that one (cannot teach you how) and now another failure mode popped up.

It's like...

You're gay and prepping yourself for a hot date with Fabio. You get a giganto-pimple on your face a week before that. You start to eat lotsa Vit.C and lather your skin with bio-young/benzoyl-peroxide/SK-II. Voila you fix the zit. Suddenly you find that you got piles. *waves fist in the air*

Then other stuff bubbling up from the tar pit is like the fact that I'm sick. Yes I know I said that very early up in this post. Still, in case you forgot (or ignored), I'm sick. Yes, hopefully if I repeat it enough times (i'm sick) you'd (i'm sick) take (i'm sick) pity (i'm sick).

Oh btw, did you know that i'm sick?

Then there're other more personal stuff oso la churning about in the tar pit. Haiks, the state of things now is shi zai shi cha. Hendrixes, I'm really sorry about my ultra-anal attitude last Friday during lunch. I was already in a rather foul mood since morning but I really enjoyed the dota game (eventhough I didn't talk very much). I hope you guys forgive me (especially achew since I was super-mean to him).

Ok la... bye bye. *koff koff*

The Real Gay

2005-06-07T04:56:00.000-07:00

I have some friends and they,
Seem to say that I am gay,
I harbour not feelings of dismay,
until that time achew raba my bulu koteh.

The hendrixes are indeed a bouquet,
of goofy loyal friends a wonderful buffet,
boredome begone fly far far away,
and becareful pimp preys on man-tits-aulait.

(the point of the above two stanzas is to show that hendrixes are kinda gay)

(fast forward to below)

Last evening I fumbled weary,
Collecting water in the layout pantry,
I chanced upon this employee's name,
"Oh my wet panties" I proclaimed..

Type BGLIM in your outlook and see what you find...

Hahaha the real gay, was here all along.

Dan lagi...

2005-05-31T08:52:00.000-07:00

"Chiok hami lan??"

Singapore Zoo lagi

2005-05-31T07:15:00.000-07:00

"Ah May(bank), lu cin sui..."

Singapore Zoo

2005-05-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

I found Jack's beanstalk.

(Diffused glow is photoshopped, aborthen?)

The Ultimate Guide to Razor

2005-05-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

Razor is a mace wielding fart you can buy from the Evening Tavern. Last time you cannot buy because Smelvin will be speed-clicking on Razor like how one might be fingering a very demanding girlfriend.

Because my lecturer once used the phrase 'tak kenal tak cinta' to open up the story of his life (from Atan Bujang to Prof. Madya Atan dengan 3 bini + 1 proton perdana), I guess I will do the same with Razor.

Razor was originally Rahim Zakaria Omar, born in Kuala Lipis, Pahang. His dad was a TNB technician and being the sole breadwiner of a really large family (mummy was busy chewing sirih all day long), they barely made do with dad's quite low salary of RM 88.88 per week (the RM 8.88 weekly repayment to Courts Mammoth for their irresponsible 29-inch Hitachi TV purchase effectively brings it down to RM 80 per week).

One day Rahim was helping his dad pull in power lines from the main road to the chicken pen behind his house when dad accidentally crossed the red wire with the brown one. Suffice to say, Rahim was fried crisp, down to the kukujiao. That is why from thereon he finds it very painful to wear any pants and resigns to a lifetime of gliding around in his faithful sarong (no panties).

Rahim's family was more disturbed than distraught and I guess the last straw came when he accidentally chain-lightning-ed their 29-inch Hitachi TV while watching Akademi Fantasia. He was thrown out of 29 Jalan Bakar 15800 Kuala Lipis, Pahang and began wandering around. Legend has it that he caused several major power outages around Batu Caves and Kota Bharu, causing Che Khalib Mohamed Noh (TNB CEO) much grief at that time (some say these outages influenced Dewan Rakyat to spend 8 Billion to strengthen TNB's grid System and transmission lines).

One fateful evening he caught sight of some limp dude raising his arms in the air trying to teleport himself over from Kota Roya to Petaling Street. Rahim approached and said 'Dude, jangan buang mana, kerajaan sudah bina jejantas' and with that promptly helped the limp guy cross the street. This limp fella's name was Furion and he happens to be a retired bassist from the band Gersang (some say retired due to police trouble over a drunk motorcycle crash incident). Furion hooked him up with Blizzard and Rahim was placed in the WC3FT-Dota department. The rest is history.

Okay, where's the guide you ask?

Well, I read this so called 'expert' guide that details your skill build and item purchase order right down to when you should get potty trained and when you should start buying cotton ear buds. I did not read it all but basically it places much emphasis on Unholy Regeneration. Fak Unholy Regeneration if you ask me. Always upgrade chain lightning first because it has kick ass range and is perfect against bully-heroes who like to pick on chaps with sarongs. Anyway, if you really get gangbanged you'll find that regeneration contributes crap. At least with chain lightning you can take out creep and blow up a few Hitachi TVs before you die.

Also forget about Frenzy cause it just puts a storm cloud over your head and makes you all high strung and neurotic. Yes your attack speed DOES go up but your damage is never really high to begin with so why bother?

On damage, the 50 MegaWatt question is: How to increase damage?

Well there was recently a discussion on how to mathematically compute damage. I'll share a secret with you - I devoted my final year thesis on deriving the equation to compute Razor's damage and found that it was actually the following *patent pending*:

Razor's Damage = ((Strength*qE/Nd)-EnemyArmour-sqrt(agility-(Ec-Efn)))/LuckEXP2

where
q = Lightning electron charge
E = Electric field from Razor's finger to Enemy, inversely proportional to distance,d
Nd = Charge density
Ec-Efn = Electron energy level - Flatband energy

But fuck that I say and just ask your teammates to pump you with a desolator.

Yawn. Okie I'm sleepy. Buy two hyperstones and happy owning. The end.

2005-05-15T23:28:00.000-07:00

Things I learnt about Achew while staying with Achew:

1) He can be incredibly cute (+1). Like the time I caught him all alone watching 'Shall We Dance' - he was clutching his teeny-weeny bolster he calls Bobo to his left ear with his mouth half-ajar, transfixed on JLo's pert butt. Or the time when he went to dispose of rubbish while I was quietly observing him from the 10th floor - he suddenly knelt down and tried to lure in this big fat pussy but she (the pussy) just walked away. Undaunted by the pussy's rejection, he continued holding out his hand making stupid monkey faces. Finding: Achew is not good in seducing pussies.

2) Bobo (Achew's bolster) is about the size of his forearm, with prints of little yellow ducks all over. Surprisingly it smells nice (+1). (I was told later that StiffButt has one too - which was peed, drooled, and shate on. Stiffbutt was devastated when his dad threw it away. I wonder what made his dad do that).

*shate = self-made past tense for the shit verb.

3) Achew's laugh is damn machaucibai loud. When I'm in my room chatting on skype, even closing the door could not keep the howling out (-1).

4) He is dota crazy. When Dan is bathing, he writes dota guides on Dan's laptop. When Dan is asleep, he plays dota on his sister's Celeron (0).

5) Sometimes he bugs me to link up our Pcs to play dota (-1).

6) Achew is stupid because he doesn't eat ice-cream. But at least this also means he won't be fighting with me over ice-cream (+1).

Verdict = +1. Boleh la.... :)

2005-05-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

Tis a horrible horrible month.

Firstly, I had to move out of my apartment, and this means a major repair exercise for broken lamps/doors/locks/handles on account of my spastic housemate whom I believe may very well have been the 'case subject' from whom the western media derived the statement "Malaysians live on trees".

Contracts are honoured by gentlemens, and bastards like these deserve to live off their own shit. As much as possible, he would stretch his luck by refusing to share the labour AND cost of the repairs; stating - "Aiya, rent house sure like tat wan la!" The richest as yet goes like this, "Don't pretend to be good la! Nobody ask you to pay why you pay?!"

Wa lanceow, you never say I cannot cucuk this paku in your tayar so I can cucuk la means?

And by the way, by contractual agreement we are supposed to pay, just that his definition of 'being asked to pay' involves someone trapping him in an alley with the only possible escape being climbing over a brick wall only to meet a sex-starved Pudge with rotting nipples on the other side.

This kind of behavior seriously sickens me to the bone. I am quite certain that characters like these leads to the anal behavior we see on roads and queues in mamak counters today. Honour is vanishing and selfishness is becoming overwhelmingly prevalent. We need more sex-starved Pudges in this world to set things right.

Let me tell you one last thing. Before he left the place, he dumped all his rubbish into - get this, the toilet bowl! Fak, I had to wrap a plastic bag around my hands to remove the pieces of hair/dust/paper/waramashit swimming in the pool of waste water.

And this my friend, is a glimpse of how a TRUE CBB is like.

(I've got loads more to blog about. Stay tuned.)

2005-04-27T23:03:00.000-07:00

My sayang read achew's poem and was very touched.

No la, actually she called him an emo-bapuk, and then like tinker bell she fluttered about cyberspace and where flying dust landed, words came out like the following:

wahhhhh yoke liang very the emo-bapuk! tee hee hee...
the hendrix gang is going through a emo series...

Bayan Lepas is a battleground. An age-old struggle for control of the free trade zone is taking place. Ordinary-looking uncles, braders and Mats suddenly transform into mighty robots that wage war with the advanced armoury of super slow gautomatic gates and an iconic traffic light. An earthquake from Sumatera revives the dormant cargo of a spaceship that crashed four million years ago. Two types of Transformers emerge: The power-hungry and emotionally-detached evil Intelicons and the Alterabots who with help from human allies, must use feelings and ingenuity to defeat the Intelicons. From the Alterabot-Human alliance, new Transformers evolved - they are called the Emoticons, skilled in music, song and words (err... some say DOTA too).

2005-04-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

And the best comment received regarding yesterday's blood donation incident:

U bought perseverance ?? That’s clever of you. Unlike someone, din buy perseverance go donate blood, then kena NUKE by some fella and vomited. Then baru go back fountain and tell everyone "Wo hui qu Mai Dong Xi Yi Xia"

The message was directed at Pimpra. The 'someone' who didn't buy perseverance was me. Puki :p

2005-04-26T23:23:00.000-07:00

Her: Is this the 1st time you donated blood?

Me: No laaaaaa…I was just smoking when I vomited.

Her: oh I see. so smart, smoke right after you gave away blood? ;)

Me: Im not quite sure why it happened *vomiting* … it has never been a problem b4

Her: Probably 1 of those days when your body is slightly out-of-it. Well, take care and get some good rest + nutrients! ;D

Me: Darn, something is wrong… I still feel loya :p

Her: Did you drink enough water today, and after you donate blood? Symptoms of pregnancy? ;D

Me: In high pitch voice “pReGnAncY??”

Her: And you must faint after that, cuz you don't have enough blood and the idea really shocked you.

Me: “kerplop” *falls off chair*

Her: oh, poor thing. that must've hurt. *bravo!bravo!great performance! * :D guess you should have an early day off today. :) and no strenuous moving for a few days.

Me: Btw… if you are leaving the company today by the side lobby, I’d like to apologize for the mess (the puke), if they haven’t cleaned it up already.

Her: When I left at 5.30pm yesterday, the mess was already cleaned up (just water puddles left). So, how are you feeling today? Fully recovered?

Me: Blurred vision. Dunno why :p

Her: Oh dear, you're beginning to sound like one of those old uncles whose bodies have problem recovering from whatever it is that never used to affect them when they were younger and healthier. ;D You can still drive properly?

2005-04-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

"Oh my God!" was the first thing I said.

It was also the second and third, and because I repeated it so many times I'm sure the ahpeks seating within earshot of my exclamation thought my condom burst three months ago.

Astonishment, mixed with a sprinkling of regret, was what I felt when Batu told me that his boss is leaving the company. His subordinates call him flying brother (translate it to chinese and go figure) and thus I will hereforth refer to him as FB for short.

When I attended my 2nd interview with this company, I spotted FB and thought that he was just another bloke fresh out of university. Yes, he looks THAT young! Little did I know he was a senior manager and also the founder of his department here in Penang (lucky I never approach him for soalan bocor).

This afternoon, I was chatting with Elmo and invariably, our conversation strayed (much intended on both our parts I suspect) to FB. Elmo stated that he could not understand what could have spurred FB to leave the company.

We know he gets along really well with management.
We know he gets paid A LOT.
We know he's in a position that's highly comfortable (not to say that he's damn free but it's certainly not as crazy and heartpounding as some higher positions we know of).

And so it got me thinking. Maybe he's leaving because he is TOO comfortable, and I must say I salute him for his balls which are in all probabilty bigger than A Bakri Musa. It got me thinking about my aspirations when I was but a wee infant in the corporate world.

If there was one sentence to describe me back then, it was that I dared to dream (which unfortunately does not translate to successful execution). Years of negativity and contempt tears away the sanctity of that dream like how that shit Gnaix the Life Stealer claws away at your hitpoints all the while reducing your speed by 25% (DOTA lingo). And I realized that I chose to end up this way, not in one big momentous moment where some fucker comes and cuts the ribbon to officiate my pathway to eternal fuck-dome, but the cumulation of the little decisions I made wrong that heaps into a big sign that says "YOU'RE FUCKED JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE HAHAHA".

Little choices like what you say? Well, like whether or not to take that extra hour or to sacrifice that rare occasional weekend afternoon to stay on top of things. When emptied of these little pushes, I started sinking, and it led to more negativity which I'm sure you smart asses out there know creates what is popularly known as a kitaran kejam AKA vicious cycle.

I know this, because I drink ENFA A+ and would like to think that I'm smart :p

Of course, I also quite a good cock-talker to the point that I deceive myself by saying "No la, work is not my priority. Life is meaningless without fun". But honestly la wei, I don't need THAT much fun and would gladly sacrifice it for a Toyota Rav4 or a nice double-storey semi-detached house. In all honesty, the reason why I made these little wrong decisions most of the time was because I didn't think I could win.

Why is it that we dare to dream but dare not believe in ourselves to win?

Okay, long post alert. Basically, the point I'm trying to make is that FB's departure inspires me to push and be steadfast to my dreams. I can get out and make something of myself.. I know it.

To start, tommorow I will get out and kick some DOTA ass. *hee* :)

2005-04-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

Spinning off from the post below, Hindi movies does draw some paralels with Chinese movies. The main one being that when a puncher punches a punchee, it is too obvious that no contact is made but the punchee can fly across the screen defying all laws of momentum and prinsip keabadian tenaga. Except Jackie Chan movies la, those are pretty realistic.

Also, why all the evil Indian kecikpunek-class villians always must have misai wan?

And why must they always arrive in a jeep?

YOU stay tuned this Saturday afternoon and tell me if I'm wrong! :p

2005-04-23T12:27:00.000-07:00

I read in my opinion a very good article today on the Sun. Basically it talked about the nation's preoccupation with developing the Malay language instead of the Malay society. For that article alone, I took the newspaper home. (McDonalds in Sungai Dua gives it away free, or does it? Too late :p)

I liked the phrases used in that article to describe the unique traits of the Malay race (paraphrased: the cibai stuff la). For example,

"The end result of university quotas is a glut of unemployable Malay graduates; for forced participation in business, a class of economic parasites and rent seekers."

And what I liked most about that article is, well - it was written by a Malay!

It may be offensive to some, but to me, the writing's on the wall, and I damn well like it when someone has the balls to say it out loud for everyone to hear (or read, like in this case).

It's like, when I was in my 2nd year of uni, I lived with several Indian housemates. Everytime I watched a Hindi movie with them, I so wanted to ask "Eh pantat, I thought they were alone on that hill, where the shit did the 100+ backup dancers appear from?" But I was too chicken la. Despite my love for them, forced anal penetration by a hairy penis is still scary (possibly itchy too).

But let not my sentiments be miscontrued. It was an inspiring article, an article that in all intent, spurs the betterment of the Malay race (and Malaysia!)

Kudos to da big-balled dude named A Bakri Musa (the author of the article la).

2005-04-21T09:21:00.000-07:00

I was strolling around,
the office compound,
when i saw a tree,
all gnarled and weary.

Under it I stood to pee,
when it suddenly hit me,
to write about the way,
people blog these days.

Oh don't ask me how the tree incident reciprocrates with the idea of writing about the way people write. Trees just make me feel relaxed okay? (enough to pee).

So before I started this post, I did some cyber-browsing and came across several 'attention-arousing' sites (which I will not list down here la, kita blogger sama blogger kena respek capish?)

9/10 blogs I visited were bristling with depressing energy (a tacky neon sign spells negative galore in my mind and i'm strangely compelled to enter). The styles varied from the eloquently poetic to downright waramashit life-fuck-me-i-fuck-back crass.

An example of the former (and I'm making this up by wearing my emo-hat):

"Pain is the colour white. It mingles with everything, its colour cast on memories and perception, insidiously exerting its way with character, actions and decisions. And because it is always white, one can never tell one pain from the other. It amasses like a blanket of snow, enshrouding the evidence of life until, if it spring should not come, it drowns it out completely. And sometimes, if spring comes too late, life beneath the snow dies."

Wah... feel brain-fucked already? Now that I read it again, I definitely feel so. Make that fucked while wearing a tight pantyhose with leather boots over it; poetic to some, but salah to most.

Moving on to an example of the latter:

"Fuck it. If she shows up with an attitude I'm just gonna come down on her like some donkey-kong-biatch! Doesn't she see that everyone like hates her? She's such a whore, and she's making my life a living hell!"

And the subject of this blogger's ranting is (drumroll please), her mum. :p (walao). Bermasalah kau kau kuasa dua is all I can say.

Of course, there are also those who are artfully pleasant (like mine *blek*). No la, for example, check out this excerpt from a particularly adept author:

"The place is crowded with old wooden furnishings, some deeply beautiful, others mere fascinating curiosities. There is a heavy gravity here that the light has difficulty to penetrate — perhaps due to the depth of the mahogany, the severity of the oak."

Wah, again I'm brainfucked, but this time I imagine Mut wearing feathers waving a bottle of KY lube seductively. I'm so turned on.

I mean, seriously, that prose just exude wistfulness, and in a pleasantly agreeable way. I like :)

Have you ever read an MBA blog? Seriously it's like no other student blog (no bitching bout campus-toilets or pass-deadline-theses) and it makes me seriously want to fart.

*poot*

What? I said seriously didn't I?

An example:
5.00: Morning swim.
6.30: Daily Wall Street Journal.
8.00: Class I - International Operations Management
10.00: Break
10.30: Class II - Competitive Strategy
12.00: Lunch
1.00: Discussion on the effects of channel distribution on China's labour market
3.00: Break
3.30: Read up on paper: Classical theorems of organizational structure and design
5.00: Row my sampan down the Oxford river
7.00: Dinner
8.30: Read up on paper: Cross-cultural transnational management
9.30: Sleep.

(Shamefully I considered doing an MBA before so I'm intimately in touch with the typical MBA syllabus).

Waramashit? Waramarasakura? Just-plain-waaaht?

All that exposure to positioning and branding and this is the quality of publishing we get. haiks.

Ok, this post is getting mightly long. To end, I just want to point out one more type of blog - the kind that uses the oh-fuck-me-so-hard-i-forget-my-name English. Yup, to all the Milan Kundera wannabes out there:

"I find that your proximal cosociation with the thesaurus in actuality vitiates you from the pertinency of the content at hand, and cojointly checking the dictionary while reading your posts is rendering a botheration of the most fractious kind."

Okay, you may fuck the comments now.

2005-04-20T23:29:00.000-07:00

Ah heck, since I'm already logged in, lemme just pen a few more words down.

Here goes, light-speed-typing-style:

Lots have been happening since my last post (not the one about my sexed up dreamy morning) - no, I'm referring to the short one with the expletive typed out using the keys of, well, a keyboard (oh mother of sweet irony).

Okay, backpedalling commencing... *nyek nyek*

Ddcat gave a stellar performance as Quoc Dong our favourite buruh dari negara Vietnam. I hope I'll get the photos soon (especially the one with the pack of Pall Mall tucked up his armpits err I mean sleeve).

Then yesterday we had a good time syping on ddcat via his webcam.

And then there were other bits and pieces of conversation thrown into the email server like loose confetti stuck in a washing machine:

The SX incident..
The PH incident..
The malformed breast incident..
The 'what i don't understand is" incident...

Oh fuck that reminds me about Pimp. Ya'know, despite his sweet cutesy demeanor, this marafaker can give one helluva kick-shit-in-your-face look-of-disdain, one that's just DRIPPING with condescendency (if there's such a marashit word... wait, marashit itself isn't a word). Yesterday me and da gang (+ FF) were at uRanUs and ddcat was in the glass cubicle giving that kam mou boss a BJ in exchange for a webcam when I asked pimp, in the most sincere polite way possible *ahem*, "how you know this modem is tmnet certified?"

I tell you, the ensuing expression was just pure, unadulterated jackass-shit material man. It was like the fucker was having a fucking spasm, undecided between wanting to smack the back of my head with his paddle-pop-palm (he has very big, no wait... fat palms) and wanting to scold me in some ancient arabic language. In the end, it was a raised palm, a sharp swerve of the head and just as quickly recoiled to give me that cibai pukiayam cock stare and I can't remember what he said but i'm sure what he meant was,

"What's wrong with your brains?" (you must imagine a very annoyed and constipated expression, each word slowly enunciated and gravitating with irritation).

Pukiputumayam you pimp! You wait... just you wait...

2005-04-20T23:17:00.000-07:00

Tropical mornings, when cloudy, always invoke a dreamy mood. I woke up to such one (dreamy morning). In fact, I never felt more well rested as I was emptying my bladder this morning at 7am.

When I left the apartment, it was already 7.30, and so thought I, "Shit, I'm gonna be late for the meeting". But the morning was dreamy, the air was fresh, even Dr. Know-It-All (of Hitz FM) didn't sound as irritating - so I didn't mind so much.

And lo behold, my second gift came - the intel traffic light wasn't the slightest bit jammed! (except for one L-license girl in a white kancil).

Well well well.. :)

Aiyah, I got no mood to blog lah. Stop bugging me to update my blog lah!

Work work *ogre voice*

2005-04-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

My housemate.

(who works in Intel by the way).

2005-04-06T02:52:00.000-07:00

As I am typing this, Achew and Motumbo are in the gym sweating their balls off while my not so faithful machine is copying a huge chunk of shit macro called the CRAMDataAnalysis from the San Jose server (file ETA: 32 minutes). So that leaves me, not doing anything. So I mah type this post lor per the Hendrixes afternoon request.

The subject of this post is obviously going to be about Faggoty Frog. Achew, I don't think we ever found out why you chose the adjective 'Faggoty'. Ah nevermind... for the uninitiated, allow me to provide a brief background history.

Originally, he was a sperm that in probability resembled the bone chink shit that he chooses all the time for DOTA. Then he hit a hairy giant ovum and lo'behold, today he drives a Honda Integra.

I mean, you gotta respect that, he could've ended up on the surface of some god-knows-what-brand tissue paper and got flushed down the toilet bowl but today he drives an Integra. Not bad eh?

Ok I know that was lame. :p

So anyway, I had the privilege of sitting next to him this afternoon during our DOTA session (me + Pimp + Mut + Tightbutt + FF versus Daddycat + Lion, fuck if you want to comment "eh where got fair like tat" fuck off). FYI, Daddycat and Lion are terrific players, and it was quite tough trying to level up with the saturation of heroes canibalizing into your experience and gold. FF (who was sitting next to me) was suddenly the narrator of the entire game, the pemberita or whatever-the-shit you want to call it I just call it the fucking pat-kong mulut cibai la! Above the serious-waramashit sound-system, came comments like "Eh, ni me bu dong yong map de ah?"

Oh I felt like chain lightning-ing his ass... (not in the game, I mean, in real life.. really).

Seriously what is wrong with that person's mouth man? I tell you..

"Eh don't let them come up I go and buy things first"
"Eh why you never defend the base one?"
"Eh don't let him kill you lah!"
"Try not to die SO FAST la"

Oh like fuck as if I LIKE to be gangbanged by Lion's trees and then sodomized by King Leoric's sword...

Haiks, with all things said... he's alright I guess... this is an exclusive incident, it's unfair to pass a conclusion at character over one hour's worth of behavior.. but hey, what do we have here? Daddycat and Achew blogged about him too!!

Check it... ah damn. I'm too lazy to cut and paste the ahref crap. Visit their blogs yourself la.

Still 17 minutes to go before the file arrives *sigh*.

2005-03-29T17:28:00.000-08:00

I'm ashamed to admit this but after running down 25 flight of stairs on Monday night, my left leg hurts.

Hurts like hell.

I'm trying to remember which leg I used to step forward but the memory of the incident is vague (I just woke up that time wat). All I have were dark corridors, a sweaty lumpar and my kukujiao wobbling from thumping down the steps.

Btw, check out Pimp's latest post, if you haven't already. Guaranteed to have you in stitches, especially about the Awang Mahadi part. *mrpphk.. can't stifle laughter in as I type this*

Have a good day y'all.

2005-03-29T01:18:00.000-08:00

I know I'm not supposed to be gay on this blog but there's just this song by Bob Dylan which I think is fucking cool.

Seen a shooting star tonight,
And I thought of you.
You were trying to break into another world,
A world I never knew.
I always kind of wondered,
If you ever made it through.
Seen a shooting star tonight,
And I thought of you.

Btw... for the person who said "we will brush his dick with berus dawai kokot berkarat", thank you but my lumpar is no longer sticky and will not require your sponging.

ps: Doom-Razor rules!

2005-03-28T09:03:00.000-08:00

Trembling wobbling suckhatash.

30 minutes or so ago I was sound asleep in my bed when I felt a tugging at my feet. I thought the hantu tetek must be early since the lights in the living room were still on and the green glow of my alarm radio spelt "12.30" (am). Then as I rose steadily to partial consciousness, I saw the shadow of my housemate at my feet and I think "finally you've decided to rape me you tight-panties-piece-of-shit-you". But all he said was (in Cantonese): "Oi, earthquake! earthquake!"

We left the apartment and begun our agonizing 25 flight-of-stairs exodus. My consciousness steadily rose to full-sweaty-ultra-badword-mode as we spiralled down, and I almost tripped on several occasions between the 20th to 15th (I think la, wasn't keeping exact count) where the light were out.

Down there, me saw other scaredy-shit-sweaty-stinkos gaping at the building. Me and my housemates proceeded to the nearby kedai minum and sat down for a drink. With the aid of a can of 100 plus, my perspiring lumpar cooled down (I wasn't wearing underwear) and I heard from my housemates that the wobbling was really bad.

About 15 minutes later we went back up because we were too sleepy.

Stupid la. I was so tired and so blissfully asleep. Now I got a sticky lumpar.

PS: Btw, as we were returning, we saw a blue Satria filled to the brim with furniture leaving the apartment. No joke! Talk about super cibai kiasu man... hehe

2005-03-27T22:36:00.000-08:00

He is Gaylord, venerable graduate of the mystical "Influencing Others Workshop."

By mastery of the consecrated powers of the Vishanti, he attains dominion over the minds of his peers.

Jom kita cuba.

Motumbo, get on the Motuki.
Pimp, get a plank and set it against the Pimpra.
Motumbo, rev your Motuki. Now ride up the plank at 100 kph and take off.
While in air, let go off Motuki. Let Motuki fly forward.
Daddycat, jump and grab hold of Motumbo's swingin dick.
Archew and Gaylord, accompany Japanese investors observing from a safe distance.
If act fails to sell, try to get mosaic-less Ryoko vids from the Japanese.

2005-03-24T08:14:00.000-08:00

Nickname: Tight Kitten
Special powers: G-string lasso, Payudara-Padu-Maut.

Personal description:
Hey boys, my name is Alexis Vanashag and I'm a sexy foreign exchange student from some Eastern European country you won't be able to pronounce. My boyfriend just got me a webcam for my birthday and I've been having lots of fun with it. I bet you want a piece of this ass, well hurry up! Sign up here ($19.99 per month). I swear, it's not for the money. I just get turned on because the lifeless lens of my webcam remind me of your stinky puny rod. I promise to be yours only (please pass the word around to all your friends).

So uhm.. yeah, c'mere tiger! *pouts ass at webcam*

Special offer:
10% discount for all Hendrix members.

2005-03-24T00:50:00.000-08:00

Gaylord will be attending a "Influencing Others Workshop" in the Evergreen Laurel Hotel tommorow.

He's hoping to gain proficiency in hypnosis. Afterwhich, he will make all Hendrixes shave off their LCMs.

If you garu kepala, that means you don't understand. That also means you're not a Hendrix member. Therefore, take heart: this post was not meant for you.

However, if you garu konek, yet not a Hendrix member, that means you understand. You have incredible promise - and someday we may grace your pitiful existence with a visitation. We'll even evaluate how CBB you are; and that'll be RM 50 per eval-sheet.

While I'm away, the moron in the 3rd row from the back, 46th head from the left, says "Hi".

2005-03-23T22:35:00.000-08:00

Ok. I may have been unreasonably excessive in my post below. I learned a tad bit more about this spectacled fatty (the grey IS mofo as referred to by Motumbo) from telor teoh (who sits next to me in the office). Damn his untimely intrusion!

Telor travelled to San Jose with the grey mofo like 3 years back. He described grey mofo as a very reserved guy who loves his wife a lot. Yup, he's married! (bring out my constipation pills). Apparently, there was one incident where he and the telor went to the ocean, and missing his wife very much, grey mofo stood at the edge of the pacific and shouted his wife's name.

"Mrs. Moooofoooo!!" (ok i'm being mean again).

This demonstration of affection for his wife, compounded by the fact that he's a big-time introvert, really profounds me. I know I'm now making an emo-judgment when I say, he's okay by my books. I mean, anyone who does something as sweet as that can't be that bad right? Maybe he's just likes being a half-blind jellyfish when he walks around in the office.

Ah well, love all, serve all. Long live rock n' roll.

2005-03-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

Life grants our all-manful Gaylord a meeting with the stupidest-lowliest-saddest-social-retards (and I bet they're from Intel, or work near the fucking traffic light).

But, in all sobriety, the first group I'm going to talk about are not from Intel. They are those you bump into when you're:

1) Going to the toilet.
2) Backtracking from toilet because you forgot today's newspaper.
3) Going back to toilet while trying hard to keep your shit in.
4) Coming out of the toilet.
5) Going to the printer to get your 3-days-unclaimed-yet-highly-confidential NPP printouts.
6) Taking the NPP printouts to a conference room pretending to work but switching off the lights thereafter and going to sleep.

You raise your head, smile, nod even! And these subnormal social abberations just ignore you. From the way they do it, (common symptoms, and by no means am I generalizing, include: discomposed eyes, sohai expression, already slouched back becomes more slouched, hands fervently tucked into pocket lest it catches germs) i don't think it's because they intend to condescend you or anything like that (that's totally another piss-me category). It's more like they're just being the social-sohais that they are. Seriously! And I have experiments to back me up!

The subject was this fatty-spectacled guy in the office (IS dept). As he walked past I stared at him and smiled. As usual eye-contact lasted a millionth of a nanosecond before he shifted his gaze to some imaginary (naked) parrot on my shoulder. Ordinarily I would've just looked away and forget about it, but this time (experiment mah) I continued staring and smiling - saja want to see who can be more sohai.

I was expecting to maybe milk an embarrassed smile from him or something, but no! His expression (and mind you he was STILL not making eye contact with me) was something of a mental-instability + super-high-tension-wire combo! I mean, he'd rather buat "Sup Benci-U-Jangan-Pandang-Sini" rather than just shift his eyes slightly to the left and say "Hi".

Aiyo... sohai, if you so takut orang don't kerja la. Go prostitute yourself on ebay or something...

2005-03-23T01:23:00.000-08:00

T'was a brief but triumphant moment when the colours broke free and soared into the unprotected sky! It swerved precariously to the left and right, zig zagging itself ever higher before finally bursting into the blue sky! My muscles contracted involuntarily, beads of sweat ran down my back and to my own admonishment I heard myself moan.

I'm talking about my kite-flying experience.

It flew for a puny-ass 30 seconds before suiciding. Whose fault was it? Why, the fucking intel traffic light of course. (Scarcely a ripple in my panties as I say this... shameless.)

2005-03-22T06:40:00.000-08:00

Just testing the comments bit... how the fuck do u change the way comments appear?

2005-03-22T04:31:00.000-08:00

Welcome ma' hendrix brothers!