road rage blues

i woke up this morning,
got into my wira,
and started the car.

as i turned the corner,
this old beemer,
driven by an old geezer,
he cut into my lane,
and then gave me the finger.

ohh, as my heart filled up with anger,
i wondered: why are people such stinkers?
when they turn, they put on no blinkers,
and then there are the bikers,
weaving in and out of traffic like their backsides are on fire;
and seniors who act like the road is their grandfathers'

i woke up this morning,
and realised that people are mostly @#$%ers.

45 my car

if i could have it my way, i would fortify my car with durian spikes.

Is it wrong to be wrong?

The following is yet another conversation I overheard while wandering the city looking for plastic bottles and cardboard boxes I can sell for some money to buy pirated DVDs:

"What's the answer for 1 + 1?"
"3."
"Wrong. Try again."
"Um...4?"
"No!"

*piak*

"What do I send you to school for??? Huh?? Tell me!!!"
"..."
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
"..."
"I didn't send you to school to become stupid. You can't even give me the answer for 1 + 1!"
"I told you the answer!"
"What?!"
"I said I told you the answer..."
"I asked you what is 1 + 1. You said 3, then you said 4."
"That's right."
"No, that's wrong!!!"
"What's wrong with wrong?"
"What?"
"Is it wrong to be wrong?"
"What?"
"I said, is it wrong to be wrong?"
"What?"
"What is wrong."
"What??? What is wrong?? What are you talking about?"
"Sorry, what what is wrong what are you talking about is wrong too. Try again."
"What?"
"Can't you answer a simple question? I said what is wrong."
"What do you mean what is wrong???"
"What do you mean what is wrong is wrong too."

I might be wrong --- and I'm often wrong --- but I think the moral of this conversation is this: do not be so sure of someone else's shortcomings when you yourself are full of these same shortcomings. gabish?

rhyming with ling

oh, so early in the moling,
my alarm clock go ling ling,
i opens my eyes screaming:
*** *** LING!!!

i put on my bling bling
without showering.
then my handpon go ting-a-ling.
i pick up, it was ah ling, my darling!

The Raid (Part 2)

As the men made their way up the tuition centre, I noticed with amusement that three teachers have quietly escaped through a back door and were now climbing over a fence. One of the them was rather portly, and as he struggled to clear the fence, he became stuck. Instead of helping him, the other two just left him there. I thought it was rather funny and giggled.

Meanwhile, there were some shouts and screams up on the first floor of the tuition centre. Moments later, a dozen primary school students ranging from eight to twelve were led out of the centre. Some of them were crying and sniffling, asking for their mommies. They were made to line up against a wall. Then one of the men called out the children's names one by one.

"Tai Choon Toy!"
"Chang Ching Chong!"
"Huat Yew Min!"
"Abu bin Api!"
"Low See Fun!"
"Lawrence Teoh!"
"Kupukupusamy a/l Ramarama!"
"Dylan Wong!"
"Chow Chee Wai!"
"Dun Wan Lern!"
"Sukasuka Kunjitaro!"
"Balan Singh!"

Out of the blue, I heard the sound of running water. I looked up. It was bright and sunny with nary a rain cloud in sight. There must be some mistake. Then I heard a shout.

"Dylan Wong!!!"

I took a closer look and saw Dylan, this scrawny kid with a PokeMeMan tee shirt, crying. He was so good at crying I almost shed a tear myself while looking at him.

"I WAN MAI MAMMMIIIIII....I WAN MAI MAMMIIIIII......!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Oi, apa dia cakap la?! Apa dia mau??"
"Lia kata ah, lia mau lia munya amak oh..."
"Ape??? Dia nak emak???"
"Ehhh #@%$*& betul la budak ni! Kencing lagi pulak!!! Betul-betul #$%@#&* la!!!"

So it turned out that this Dylan Wong was wetting his pants from all the ensuing tension of the raid. The men continued their discussion. Soon, the two men dressed in suits joined them.

"Cam ne skarang?"
"Takde choice, I rasa the best thing is to call his parents..."
"Oke. Check depe punya student record."
"Ya tak ya juga...okay...Dy...lan...Wong...ha! 0167-3425-3425..."

He pulled out a satellite phone and started dialling.

"Ah, hallo...yes, dis is...(er, cam ne nak cakap ya...?)"
"Ish...kata je la, you calling dari Pusat Tuisyen Belajar Banyak..."
"...ah yes, dis is calling from Pusat Tuisyen Belayar Banjak...ah, you punya anak ah...Dylan Wong...dia tak sihat, puan bole datang kemari? Okay...thank you you, see you..."

A minute later, a woman who was presumably Dylan's mother, arrived at the centre. When she saw that her son was crying while standing in a pool of urine, she practically flipped.

"APA YOU BUAT DINGAN ANAK SAYA AH???"
"Er puan, kami..."
"APA KAMI KAMI??? LU TENGOK DIA MANYAK TAKUT SAMA YOU..."

He tried to explain further, but before he could get a word in, she gave him a tight slap across the face.

"SAYA BRITAU YOU AH, YOU JANGAN INGAT YOU BESAR, WA REPORT POLIS NANTI LU TAU!!!"
"Tapi..."

She ignored him and promptly dragged Dylan away. As they walked away, I thought I saw something brown trickling down the poor boy's legs. Seeing this made me want to visit the toilet, so I quickly made my exit and continued my journey home.

The Raid (Part 1)

One day, I was on my way home from school when I passed by a tuition centre. In case you were wondering, I was not going to tuition. This was because I was going home. Anyway, I saw something rather strange as I was walking by the tuition centre. A large military truck was parked in front of the tuition centre. Several intense-looking men were standing beside the truck, and one of them was talking into a walkie-talkie. The rest of them were checking their weapons. Each of them was armed with a Heckler & Koch MP7. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

"Chup-chup-chup-chup-chup..."

The helicopter sounded exactly like a helicopter in an action movie watched in DTS. As the helicopter prepared to land, its spinning rotor blades kicked up a lot of sand, dust and La Biss. Fortunately, I had brought my trusty goggles along. Just as I was putting them on, a dead chicken flew in my direction and almost hit me smack in the face. I applied some snappy kung-fu footwork and the dead chicken went splat against a Perutdua Valva instead.

As the helicopter touched down in the middle of the street, the door swung open and two men dressed in badly-tailored suits stepped out. Even though the blades were high above them, they bent their heads very low. I guess they must love their heads very much. They approached the men beside the truck and spoke to them briefly. After pulling a balaclava over each of their heads, the men synchronised their watches and prepared to enter the tuition centre. When I saw this, I was so excited that I wanted to go to the toilet. However, there was no toilet around, so I tried my best to suppress the load that was nudging against my rectum. I even farted a few times in the process. Later that night, my mother gave me a sound scolding when she saw the 'tire marks' on my briefs. What made it worse was the smell. My poor mother said it reminded her of a soya sauce factory.

The men who were armed with the MP7 got into position. It was great because it looked just like in the movies. They even made those fancy hand signals that I could never understand. It was so cool I farted and almost emptied my bowels there and then. This was why there were 'tire marks' on my underwear. Then came the moment of truth. One of them kicked the door open and rushed into the tuition centre. The rest followed suit.

Grandmother Words

One day, certain things will be lost forever. This is why there are museums. Anyway, what I want to say is, there are certain linguistic artifacts --- by the way, the word 'artifact' can also be spelled 'artefact' --- peculiar to Malaysian Cantonese which might be lost within a generation or two. Specifically, the words that I'm referring to are the words used by our grandmothers, so let's call them Grandmother Words. Below is a list of several words that I can recall off the top of my head, and I encourage you to contribute to this list if you happen to remember any other words.

1. kee-chee-miau --> cartoons

2. see-kee-ling ---> ice-cream

3. hor-lan-sui ---> literally, "Holland water," meaning soft drinks.

4. ma-see-lee ---> Mercedes Benz.

5. or-feet ---> office.

Harry, I am a Potter!!!

This is part of a conversation that I overheard in one of my dreams:

"Harry, I am a potter."
"What's a potter?"
"A potter is someone who makes pots."
"Oh. I thought it was someone who carries your luggage at a hotel."
"That's a porter. I'm not a porter, I'm a potter."
"What about a reporter?"
"That's someone who works for a newspaper. A reporter is someone who reports."
"It's quite confusing, don't you think? Potter, porter, reporter..."
"Well, you just have to take the trouble to find out and remember, that's all."

Then someone lets out a slow-sounding fart.

"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That sound."
"What sound?"
"Didn't you hear it?"
"No."
"It sounded like 'port'."
"Heh heh, sorry son, I farted."

Ah Lee bin Ah Boo ((( earthquakeduck muhibbah remix )))

A little bird told me that the best place to search for La Biss would be in Penang, Darul Sampah. And so, early this morning, I set off in pursuit of La Biss. I did not bother arming myself with any cumbersome protective gear because I love the smell of La Biss in the morning. It reminds me of victory.

I reached the dump site in Pulau Tikus as the sun was rising. Hills upon hills of La Biss silhouetted against the rising sun was truly a sight to behold. I reached into my backpack and took out my Leica. The images I captured were so breathtaking tears started to well up in my eyes. I opened my mouth wide and inhaled a lungful of La Biss-flavoured air. As the micro-particles made their way into my bloodstream, my mouth started to water. It was as if I was swimming in an exquisite mixture of belacan, soya sauce, salted fish, laksa, cencaluk, smelly feet and funky armpits! I just wished I could swallow all that beautiful La Biss in one gigantic gulp.

Then I started walking among the dump site like a zombie high on syabu. I would stagger around for a while, and when I felt like it, I would let myself fall onto the soft, decomposing La Biss and then roll around in them. I have never felt so good before. It was the ultimate feeling! I was laughing and laughing and laughing when all of a sudden, a whole heap of fresh La Biss was poured on top of me. Chunks of rotten tofu almost choked me to death. Fortunately for me, an old computer landed inches from my family jewels. The rest were mainly rotten vegetables and La Biss from the home of a typically wasteful Malaysian family.

After I swallowed the rotten tofu, I started going through the fresh heap of La Biss. What caught my eyes was this bright pink Hello Pussy notebook. The cover read, 'Mai Not Buk, Ah Lee bin Ah Boo.' From the name, I immediately knew that this Ah Lee bin Ah Boo was the product of a muhibbah marriage. I sat down on a pile of old newspapers and turned to the first page.

'Studi is difikel. i am no unersand wat teecher teech. why must dey mak so hard 2 studi? i am very hate skoo. stoopee skoo.'

'Saterrday. affer i were play wif my dik, my dik got pain. i very scary. so i were told mak. i oredi scary, mak is socold me sum more. she is say, what you are do with your dik?! you are always abyuse your litel brader. he so small you shud take care for him.

'den she are tooked my brader to spesialis kleenik. i is say to dokter, what wrong wif my dik?' dokter is say dik is sik. so i is say wat you meen? i is speak LOUDLY: DIKISIK OR SIDIKID??? stoopee dokter onli smail. i is want to say bad word but mak was dere so i is only say SHRRAP!!!'

'then mak are say, we taking my dik home. he few mash better after we taking him to bomoh.'

And that was all there was in the notebook. Except for a few gulai stains, the rest of the pages were empty. I closed the notebook and just sat there for a few moments. I thought about Ah Lee and his life. All of a sudden, I felt sad.

You Sharrap!!!

I found this in the tong sampah this morning, next to the fishbone and the cartoon tin cans:

Mai teecher she lone low the dipperence beetwin Skoo and Tiew Shen but she are ask me to sharrap one. One lay, I ask her like this one: Cher, y outside got so many Tiew Shen centaur??? And you low what she are say lu me? She are say: Beecost they only want lu make marney. Lend I are answer, "but why got so many pee pole go?" Cher are say: Becost pee pole are stoopee. I are say: I are go many Tiew Shen, but I are not stoopee! Cher are say: You sharrap and stop asking so many questions!

Sam Seng the Samseng went to Tuck Seng for some yum seng

I once knew a samseng, whose name was Sam Seng.
One day, Sam went for some yum seng, at a restaurant called Tuck Seng.
Maybe Sam was drunk, but he thought he saw an Ah Singh.
When he stepped out of Tuck Seng, after the yum seng, he looked up the sky and saw many sing sing.
"Wah, the sky is so beauty make me want to sing!"

I Saw An Act See Dent Law

One day, I was walking to school when I heard a deafening bang. "WORLD TAEKWONDO FEDERATION was that???" I exclaimed. I was curious so I decided to have a closer look, just like another character in an essay taught by my English tuition teacher. When I saw that a Can Chill had crashed into a tree, I became so excited that I started trembling with excitement. There are several reasons why I became so excited.

First Lee, whenever there is an accident, there is money to be made. This is what The Blue Monkey in my dreams told me. It said, "Uuuuuuu, arr-arrr-arrr, Huuuuuu, arrrrrrrrr-arrr-arrrrrrrrr..." I am not a monkey, so I do not speak Monkeyish, but in my dreams, I always understand what The Blue Monkey says. Nevertheless, sometimes I do not dream of The Blue Monkey, but The Blue Moneky or The Blue Moenkey instead. I have noticed that this usually happens whenever I have studied too much Sir Jar Rah or Jee-O-Graph-Fee.

So anyway, I walked closer to the scene of the Act See Dent and saw that the backside of the Tikus was dented. Then I remembered what Sir Jar Rah told me yesterday. He said, "It is a good omen when you see a dent in an Act See Dent." When I asked him what 'omen' means, he asked me to look it up in a Dik Shen Ner Ree. And you know what 'omen' means? It is an expression that we can use whenever we do not understand something, for instance, "Omen, this test is so difficult!!!"

Anyway, this was what happened that day. I continued my journey home after the two Weak Teams were sent to the nearest Hot Spit Tall.

"What's He's name?"
"He, of course."
"He what?"
"He He He I think."
"And you, what's your name?"
"He."
"He what?"
"He Too. And you?"
"Huat."
"Huat what?"
"Huat Yew Min."

He Shot He

He stepped into the room silently. He was watching television. He reached into his jacket and slowly took out a gun. He aimed it at He and shot He twice. Then He continued watching television.

Dun Wan Lern's Essay (click on image to enlarge)

Samseng Run 2007 (Qualifying Rounds)

My friend's mother passed away on Sunday, and so last night, I went over to his house in Pasir Puteh to attend the funeral service. I left after about thirty minutes, because The Yapster wanted me to join him for supper in Ipoh Garden East.

I had a sandwich, because my favourite "Ma Por Spicy Bean Curd" rice dish, according to one of the 'diks, is only served till 9 pm. Anyway, the café closed when the clock struck 12, so The Yapster and I continued our world domination discussion outside the café, near my car. As we were about to leave --- we had chatted for about an hour and a half, just standing there alternatively gesticulating or with arms akimbo --- when all of a sudden, there were some shouts and lo, and behold, a pudgy guy running past us with another skinnier guy armed with a big stick in hot pursuit.

"YEAH, KEEP RUNNING, you 668437382537!!!" the skinny guy yelled.

After the dust had settled, Yapster said, "Hey, let's make a move." To which I replied, "What are you worried about? I'm here, aren't I?"

Heh heh, tuition teacher samurai.

The Electric Café (Part 4)

He signalled for one of the waiters to come over, but it wasn't Wan whom he signalled. It was this tall, skinny Chinese guy with a horrid crop of cybercafé hair.

"Why don't you get Wan to come over instead?"
"Oh Wan. Ummm...he's a really good waiter, but I don't really want to get in trouble for being racially discriminating."

This statement of his really boggled my mind. I mean, why one earth would calling a Malay waiter over for a demonstration be considered racially discriminating? For this reason, I was determined to ask him after the demo.

"May see ah low sigh?" (What's up, boss?)
"You joe gor demo..." (I want to do a demo)
"Ng high ya ma? Yau lye??? (Are you serious? Again???)
"Yard chee gum door la... (Just one more time...)
"Low sigh, gum demo fart, ng dim girl wohh...(Boss, we cannot keep this up...)
"Gum ngo gar nay yarn gung la...(I'll increase your wages...)
"Gar gay door?" (How much would you increase it by?)
"Gar yard mahn..."(Add RM1...)
"Gum siew mehhh..." (That's not a lot...)
At this juncture, it was obvious that the boss was getting a little agitated.
"Gum lay you ng you? Ng you ngo wan die yee gor..." (So how is it going to be? If you don't want to, I'll ask someone else...)
"Aiya hou la hou la..."(Alright, alright...)

The Electric Café (Part 3)

I wanted to raise my hand and let him know that we wanted to speak to him, but apparently, he was on his way to our table.

"Hi, you must be the boss."
"Well actually, I'm one of the bosses."
"I see."
"Is there anything that I can help you with?"
"Well yes, as a matter of fact. My wife and I are really curious about that little piece of jewellery that your servers wear around their neck. Is it for sale?"
"Well...no." As he finished the sentence, he gave me a look that I didn't fully understand.
"Oh, okay. So it's just for your servers."
"I suppose you can say that."
"So it's a part of their uniform?"
"You can say that as well. Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Umm, yeah..sure, of course!"
"Well I don't really know how to put this to you, but the collar thing that you see around their necks is actually a part of our efforts to ensure good service."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Well, you know how everyone's complaining about terrible service these days, and as you probably already know, the F&B line is terribly competitive."
"..."
"And so my partner and I, we came up with this strategy to maintain our service."
"Okay..."
"But I think the best way for you to understand what I'm saying here is through a demonstration."
"That would be great!"

The Electric Café (Part 2)

"Did you see that thing around his neck?"
"Yeah, and I don't think it's from Tiffany."
"I wonder what it is..."
"Let's ask the waiter, shall we?"
"Yeah why not."

When Wan came over, I waited till he had safely placed our drinks on the table before venturing to ask him what that piece of bling around his neck was all about.

"Ey 'dik, amende kat leher you tu?" (Hey dick, what's that thing around your neck?)
"Ahahha...encik tanya boss lahhh..." (Why don't you ask the boss?)
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but I noticed a slight twitch on his face as he walked away.

"That's weird."
"Yeah I know eh."
"Aiya, should've asked him about that stupid button on the table too."
"Never mind, I'll ask the boss. Ehhh, who's the boss la?"
"Must be that hairy guy with the calcium-deficient body."
"Which one? The one who's talking to the fat guy?"
"No la! The one who's sitting at the table in the corner."
"Him? What makes you think it's him? Doesn't look like a boss to me."
"I saw him ordering the waiters and waitresses around."
"That doesn't make him a boss. Maybe he's the supervisor."
"Well does it matter? If he's the supervisor, he's in charge, so he'll definitely know what's up with that collar thing around the waiter's neck and that oversized nipple on every table."
"Hey I think every waiter and waitress has that same piece of thing around their neck. I think it looks pretty cool lahhh, maybe they sell them here, some sort of jewellery. Maybe that's why they get the waiters and the waitresses to wear them. Advertising mahh..."
"Don't know lahhh, hey look the boss is coming over..."
"Maybe we can buy a pair, one for you, and one for me..."

The Electric Café (Part 1)

The wife and I are always on the lookout for new cafés and restaurants to hang out in, so when we spotted a new one on the corner of A Street and B Street, we decided to give it a try. What attracted us --- like a couple of moths, I should add --- was the huge signboard brought to life in psychedelic neon with the words The Electric Café emblazoned across it. As they say, the signboard itself was worth the price of admission.

It was a Wednesday night, which probably explained the sparseness of the café. Soon as we sat down, an impeccably-dressed waiter came over and handed us the menus before rattling off the specials of the day. Then he gave us several minutes to pore over the leather-bound menu. Once we've decided, the wife and I started chatting about something that I couldn't remember now. And whilst chatting, I noticed a sort of plastic cup on the table. It was more like a bowl actually, but placed upside down. The bowl was transparent, and hence we could see that it was actually placed over a button that was built into the table itself. Ah, so we got it. It wasn't a bowl but actually a cover placed over the button to prevent someone from accidentally pressing it.

How strange we both had thought, for what purpose could that little implement serve?

By then the waiter had returned, and as I recited the orders to him, I noticed something equally unusual, if not more so, than the button on the table. The waiter, whose name I believe is Wan, had a strapped-on collar around his neck. It looked more like a sort of bracelet than a collar, and there was a tiny blinking light on it. I had wanted to ask him what it was, but seeing how he was so earnest and professional, I didn't. As we waited for our food and drinks to arrive, we looked around the café and noticed that every table was equipped with an identical button, each covered by that tiny dome of transparent plastic.

A Burglar's Worst Nightmare

More information can be found here and here.

you can count my 3425!

The wife and I were having an early dinner at a café in Ipoh Garden East this afternoon. When it was time to pay, I signalled one of the Mat Waiters and said, "Ey 'dik, tolong kira, 'dik!" I realised it the moment I finished the argot-enriched sentence.

'dik, which means "little brother" in colloquial Malay, sounds just like "dick"in English. Jadi, kalo dalam Bee-Ai, o-ang cutter "Hey dick, please count dick!"

My Mind Spilleth Over

Sometimes, my mind fills up with so much thought they leak out in words and phrases, fragments. When I arrange them into sentences, that's when a piece of writing is born. This, to me, is the essence and raison d'être of writing.

who yoo fink yoo foolin', foo?!

Nowadays, everybody's a critic. Because of this, students are becoming increasingly harder to fool. I'm not that old, but I've been told by more than one old geezer that it was totally different back when they were in school.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was taken ill on Monday, and Mr Rockefellar stood in for me. This afternoon I received some rather colourful feedback from the class.

"His jeans are torn all over!"
"How torn were they? I mean, could you see his bum?"
"Well no, but they were ripped up pretty badly."
"Is it true that when he reads something, he pushes the paper so close it touches his nose?"
"Ya lor, ya lor!"
"What else?"
"His jokes are not funny at all, and even Gaymond is better."
"You got to be kidding."
"I'm not!"

So for all you teachers or tutors who are trying to make a quick buck, two things:

1. Teaching is not a walk in the park. You need to work harder than your students.
2. You can fool some of them some of the time, and all of them some of the time, but you can never fool all of them all of the time. (Abe Lincoln said this first)

The Story of Saya Dun Wan Lern

Saya Dun Wan Lern is a Form Three student who was bored to tears with school. "School's slowly killing me," she would lament to her parents who, in turn, would conveniently ignore her, since which student does not complain about school these days?

One day, the stars aligned in heaven, and Dun Wan Lern stumbled upon this absolutely crazy idea. "I will write these obnoxiously bad essays and hand them in to my English 'cher!" she thought to herself. Naturally, it was hell writing them since it's not easy writing in bad English when one's command of the language is impeccable. Nevertheless, it was a brilliant exercise in creative writing and she enjoyed writing every bit of it, down to the part where she wrote: "Later I wear people say I pretty." See, it was a report about a trip to the seaside, one of the many types of essays which are practically useless in the real world. After all, why and when would a student write a report about a trip to the seaside?

And so she handed it in, and 'cher promptly decorated the essay with deftly placed correction marks. You could see that 'cher was rather serious too. The irony was completely lost on the retrogressive 'cher. Here was this student with an almost perfect grasp of English who wrote an absolutely atrocious essay in Manglish peppered with Ah Beng inflections ("White and find sand, on top got beach chalet, say my teecher") and yet, 'cher took it to task to correct it as if Dun Wan Lern couldn't actually write!

Like the tagline for Tamin ("Cuba Sekali, Nak Lagi!"), Dun Wan Lern simply couldn't stop after that. Rejuvenated by the bright spark of mischief, she found herself looking forward to going to school again.

"'cher, please check my essay for me," Dun Wan Lern would meekly say, and then drop a pile of essays on the 'cher's table. "I am really want to improve," she would add with a sigh. Judging from the look in 'cher's eyes, Dun Wan Lern could tell that 'cher was reluctant, so she added yet again, "Pleeeese 'cher, my father are scold me every day. They are say I is lazy no good. I sad, so please help me 'cher."

the more you lern the stupider you got

see, i have a theory. and this theory that i have, it might offend some people. and the people who will get offended are most likely teachers, as in government-employed teachers in government schools. so here goes: i have a theory that, students, under our present education system, are becoming increasingly insipid, instead of becoming smarter.

because of this, a school is no longer a place most students look forward to. i'm a full-time tutor and i provide English tuition in several tuition centres so i see this every day. and the people in high places are wondering why teachers are not garnering enough respect from their students? respect is earned, not given. apparently, this is a befuddling axiom for some people to grasp, so allow me to repeat it: respect is earned, not given.

look man, there's already enough talk about how this and that should be, but how about doing something for real? it just boggles the mind to see how uniformly bad most students are when it comes to something as simple and clear-cut as grammar. ask any random chinese secondary school students if "please wait me at there" or "the shopping centre have many people" are correct, and they'll probably tell you yes. (at this juncture, it's time for an expletive, but i'll refrain myself, knowing some of my students might be reading this)

the first against the wall

perhaps this has partly to do with the fact that i become a different person whenever i step into my car and start driving. but what i fail to understand is this: why on earth are there so many idiot drivers on the streets? my favourite type is the kind who are in such a hurry when they're turning into your lane, and once they're in your lane, they slow down to the speed of a bloody snail. i mean, wtf? maybe some people are just wired to irritate, wherein their sole purpose in life is to make life miserable for everyone else.

ability to cope < dreams of expansion

if you ask any trader or businessman if they want their business to expand, they'll definitely give you a resounding yes. but yet, you see so many business owners unable to cope when they are hit with a sudden jump in volume. it's like they want something, but are not prepared to receive it. strange, isn't it?

what doesn't kill you will make you stronger

despite the impending haze, people are still burning their shit (garbage, dry leaves, furniture, unwanted children) out in the open. i find this amazing. perhaps one day, malaysians will evolve into creatures that can breathe carbon monoxide and thrive within an environment of noxious fumes and poisonous gases. we'll become CO people. yeah, that'd be waaay cool.

the flavour of indonesia

well, we'll be damned! the annual haze is upon us again!

don't call me uncle

we went to lunch at sun lok yee this morning, and overheard the lady boss calling her husband, the boss, "uncle." this reminded me of my buddy joe, who's defected to the united states. he told me that there was once when this kid came to his house to sell some joss sticks. when the kid called him "uncle," joe decided he wasn't buying any joss sticks that day.

i suppose it's the same with women. a tip for everyone who cares about social networking. whenever you come across a middle-aged woman who looks like she cares a great deal about her appearance, don't call her "auntie." This is especially true when you see her together with her daughter or someone younger. Even better, ask her if that young lass is her "sister," as opposed to her "daughter." However, if for whatever reason you wish to infuriate her, ask her if that's her granddaughter.

panties in a bunch

when a crisis happens, it brings out the idiot in some of us.