Who Can Tell Me Where This Is?

Muscleman and Robberman

Chung Ching Chong, Master of Wuxia, Tambun

My Name Is Loo See Fer, and I Am Funky

do you think my eyes are sexy?

^^^Hecho En Cuba^^^

Imperial Trooper Spotted At Jusco

Somebody Loves Amber and It Isn't Me

Crazies and Links Galore (Click on the links!)

I finished reading Paul Auster's City of Glass during one of my insomnia-driven reading binges a couple of days ago. There are some rather vivid descriptions of the mad and the homeless in the book. And yesterday, I realised that while some men are chick magnets, I'm a crazy people magnet. See, I was walking down the street in downtown Ipoh yesterday when this crazy old man nodded conspiratorially at me like we were members of the same Fight Club. Well, I sure hope that I haven't been sleepwalking like the Narrator in the said movie and busy setting up Fight Clubs all over Ipoh.

And this afternoon, I saw the Hip-Hop Makcik again, sitting at the corner of a street, sucking on a cigarette, but seemingly without her trusty boombox/ghetto blaster. I see her there without fail every Saturday afternoon at around four in the afternoon, and today, I was suddenly compelled to compile a mix tape of dirty, lazy beats for her, featuring Beck, Brad Sucks and Jay-Z, among others. By the way, if you believe in the saying that "the best things in life are free," do check out Brad Sucks. He put together an entire album and made it available for anyone to download for free. You have to hand it to the man for such generosity. There's even a Wikipedia entry on him. If you really have to know, I've been listening to "Dirtbag" and "Bad Attraction" pretty much non-stop. Do check it out.

Sorry for digressing. What I really wanted to say is that, since there are so many crazy people around Ipoh who seem to enjoy greeting me, I suppose it's only fair that I venture on a little project to compile a sort of report on the nuts of Ipoh. What do you think?

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Mini Glossary

1. a chick magnet is someone, usually a man, who attracts women like bees to honey.

2. a boombox or a ghetto blaster is a moderately loud stereo that is usually battery-powered and small enough to be carried on one's shoulder while walking down the sidewalk.

Hong Kong Television Drama Series Centre

My mother's watching some Hong Kong television drama series.
My wife's watching some Hong Kong television drama series.
There's so much Hong Kong television drama series going on that I've got Hong Kong television drama series coming out of my anus.

Desperation or Creativity?

Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina Answers A Question

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, um, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our, uh, education like such as, uh, South Africa and, uh, the Iraq and everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future."

Maybe she's just nervous, but I don't think so.

Happy Farts

This morning, the wife wanted to get a birthday gift for my mother at Jusco. I didn't feel like walking, so I sat down on a bench close to the taxi stand. I promptly fished my phone out of my pocket and started playing High Roller Casino. I was winning loads of virtual cash when all of a sudden, I heard a big, loud, obnoxious fart that went:

PPPWWWAAAAAAARRRRPPPPPPP!!!

I turned to my right, and right there was this taxi driver comfortably lying on a bench. In less than two seconds, he immediately let out another fart.

PPPRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP!!!

It was not as generous-sounding as the first, but still, it was pretty amazing. I'm sure that there were major skid marks* in his underwear. And then, he started singing!

Naturally, I pricked my nose to see if I could detect any farty smells in the air, but the smell of carbon monoxide was far stronger. The lesson of this? Well, if you're happy and you know it, let it rip. Enjoy your long weekend, kids.

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*Skid marks are "a line of fecal matter in someone's underwear that varies in thickness from thin to thick. Usually a result of poor ass wiping skills."

For example:

"Hey Ah Chong! Check out these skid marks on your younger brother's underwear!"

"Aiyah! These skid marks on your father's underwear is so hard to wash away!"

For the proper definition of skid marks, click here.

My Nostrils Know You But I Don't

This afternoon, I was sitting at a café in Kinta City with the wife when I had this terrible urge to wash my hands. As I was heading towards the wash basin, I caught a strong whiff of body odour. When I turned around to find out the source of this celestial stink that was sulphurous to smell, I saw this man who was dressed in a cornflower blue shirt with white pinstripes. Before I could mutter an expletive, one of the waiters who knows me by sight opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh, do you know Mr Bothi?"
"No, but I have just been introduced to his body odour."

Walagodinkdonkuku

Once upon a time, in an asteroid belt far, far away, there existed a country called The Republic of Walagodink & Walagodonk. Everything was fine and dandy in this fine land until one day, one of its denizens, who was named "Myvi", decided to compose a lap song called "Walagodinkdonkuku." See, a lap song is a kind of song unique to the zeitgeist of that time and the spirit of a lap song lay in its potential to make certain people uncomfortable. In a sense, a lap song is almost like a lock song, but then the latter is noisier, so most people couldn't really tell what they lyrics were. But in lap song, you could always hear what was being sung, loud and clear.

Anyway, after this naughty denizen of Walagodink & Walagodonk had composed the lap song, he decided to upload it onto the Netnet, which was something like the Internet, but faster by about a trillion times. They had only one Internet service provider as well, and the company was called SuxNet. Within the span of less than six months, the said lap song became an underground hit. Most people thought it was a very creative effort, and even more people that thought that it was very funny. "Walagodinkdonkuku" became so popular that even grandmothers hummed the tune while they were shopping for sexy lingerie in the bazaars. Such was the power of lap. However, unbeknownst to most, trouble was brewing in the horizon.

See, The Republic of Walagodink & Walagodonk was controlled by a group of people called The Giddyupidiots and the Matterfeathers, and they would fuss and fight day and night. Sadly, only a handful of denizens knew about this internal strife and power struggle. Myvi was one of those who knew, which was the reason why he decided to compose the lap song and upload it onto the Netnet. And one day, the Giddyupidiots and the Matterfeathers got wind of the "Walagodinkdonkuku" video and as they watched it, they became so enraged that some of them bit off their own walahaha and walahuhu.

The Giddyupidiots and the Matterfeathers failed to see the error of their ways although to a large extent, the lyrics in "Walagodinkdonkuku" spoke the truth. Perhaps they were too drunk with power to see the point, or perhaps they simply refused to be criticised, but whatever reason it was, a death warrant was issued and served on Myvi, who was on holiday in Lilliput and Blefuscu at that time. At one point, Myvi truly feared for his death and made an apology to the powers that be. Although the ever-foolish Giddyupidiots and Matterfeathers accepted his apology, they maintained that if arrested, Myvi would still be sentenced to Unga-Unga, which was death by multiple forced penetrations of the rectum administered by feral Negroes. However, as fate would have it, the once-glorious republic of Walagodink & Walagodonk was destroyed by a huge mother of an asteroid on the eve of the new millennium. Rumour has it that Myvi lived to the ripe age of 106, and passed on peacefully during a jam session with some Shakespearean monkeys.

Baby Fair

As I was reading the papers in a coffeeshop this morning, something horribly funny caught my eye. Supposedly there's a 'Baby Fair' happening at Tesco until 27 August 2007 (The Star, N23). Well, at first glance, it's probably nothing to shout about. A baby fair, right? Something like a book fair, right? Well, if a book fair is an organised event where books are sold, then it follows that a baby fair is an organised event where babies are sold. So, do your part and visit Tesco where they're having this baby fair, and tell them that you need to buy one. Or two, if the price is right.

Keseronokan Translasi (Maaf, Bahasa Malaysia Aku Menghisap)

I must've been tired, because when I sat down at the mamak stall after my class ended, I looked at the menu and saw Minu Man, instead of minuman. Now that's an idea for another one of my comic series: The Misadventures of Minu Man. Then this got me thinking about how funny it is whenever you translate an English proper noun into Bahasa Malaysia. For instance, My Mind Is A Stinking Camera becomes Minda Aku Adalah Satu Kamera Yang Berbau Busuk. To prove my point further, allow me to demonstrate with the following translations:

1. The Chemical Brothers ---> Adik-Beradik Kimia
2. Spice Girls ---> Perempuan-Perempuan Rempah
3. Pet Shop Boys ---> Budak-Budak Kedai Binatang Kesayangan
4. Radiohead ---> Kepala Radio
5. Coldplay ---> Mainsejuk
6. Bent ---> Bengkok
7. Buena Vista Social Club ---> Kelab Sosial Buena Vista
8. Everything But The Girl ---> Semua Benda Kecuali Perempuan Itu
9. Johnny Cash ---> Johnny Tunai
10. Kaiser Chiefs ---> Penghulu-Penghulu Kaiser
11. The White Stripes ---> Belang Putih
12. Britney Spears ---> Britney Lembing
13. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ---> Charlie dan Kilang Coklat
14. Mission Impossible ---> Misi Yang Tidak Mungkin
15. Die Hard 4.0 ---> Mati Keras Empat Perpuluhan Kosong
16. Ghost Rider ---> Penunggang Hantu
17. Fantastic Four ---> Empat Yang Hebat
18. Mr Bean ---> Encik Benih
19. Spiderman ---> Orang Labah-Labah
20. I Know What You Did Last Summer ---> Aku Tahu Apa Yang Kamu Buat Musim Panas Yang Lalu

Now, I encourage you to come up with some of your own translations. It's a good way to practise your language skills. Who knows, you might even end up being a translator in the future, and in case you didn't know, translators make big bucks. This way, you don't have to end up as a part-time rubbishman/plastic bottle scavenger like me. : )

piggies

i've just realised that there are a couple of pigs in the above image. kewl!

Imperial Lather

This was the reason why I haven't been updating my blog.

The Box That Killed Air Soles

It's really quite amazing what I can find when I'm roaming the streets of Ipoh looking for plastic bottles and cardboard boxes to recycle for cash. I was rummaging through a large pile of rubbish in the rain when I found a note written on a piece of curry-stained A4 paper. Allow me to present its cryptic contents to you.

To whomever who is unlucky enough to find this,

I beg you to ignore this. It's not as simple as you think. We do not truly know who we are. Would you feel the same if you found a box that could kill all the flies in the world? Well, maybe you would. And that's because you're not a fly. But imagine if a fly found the box. Do you think the fly would press the button? Do you think the fly would still press the button if the fly were aware of the fact that it is a fly? Because once the button is pressed, every single fly in the world will die. And that would include the fly that pressed the button.

That's pretty weird. Maybe it was written by a drug addict. Or one of Dun Wan Lern's friends. For all I know, Dun Wan Lern wrote it. I was about to chuck the note away when I noticed something else. Right beside some empty Guinness Stout bottles was this box that seemed to be calling out to me. It was as if the box was sending a direct signal to my brain. It said: "Hold me, touch me and check me out, bay bee." And so I did. The message was so strong that I simply couldn't resist.

I got hold of the box. It looked just like any other cardboard box. The only obvious difference was that it felt heavier. On the top flap were written the words "Pray Hard If Ye Be An Air Sole" and a large asterisk (*). I haven't the faintest idea what the words meant. Who or what is an AIR SOLE? And that large asterisk --- which looked like a huge star --- made me scratch my head even more. I was stumped. I decided to lift the flap.

Imagine my surprise when I found another box inside the box. And another. And then another. It was ridiculous. There I was, squatting under the pouring rain with this phony Chinese box. If it was a Matryoshka doll, I could've sold it to someone for 20 sen, but nobody wanted a Chinese box made out of cardboard. At that point, all I wanted to do was to stomp on the boxes until they became as flat as roti canai.

And then I saw it.

Right in the middle of the smallest box was this red button that looked like Rudolph's nose, but smaller. It also reminded me of a gorilla's nipple, but smaller. There were some words written above the button but it was too tiny so I pulled out my magnifying glass and held it close to the tiny words. It said: "Prez Da Barten Yeef Yuh Wan 2 Keel All Dee Air Soles In Dis Werld." Needless to say, I was crushed. It was written in Benglish, and I failed my Benglish. All I could make out was "Yuh", which meant "you." I looked up at the sky and screamed at the rain clouds.

"WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEE? WHYYYYYYYYYYY???????? I AM FORTUNE'S FOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Blinded with rage, I flung the box against the wall and walked away from the rubbish dump. Later that night, I was sitting in a mamak stall watching some free tv and drinking an ais kosong when I overheard this conversation between these two rich-looking old geezers who were smoking cigars. When an adorable black and white kitten walked past, one of them intentionally stepped on the poor kitten's tail. As the poor kitten ran away mewling its head off while leaving a trail of cat poo on the five-foot-way, the wicked old men laughed as if they had just won the lottery.

Old Geezer #1: Hey, so did they find the box yet?

Old Geezer #2: Not yet.

Old Geezer #1: That's bad. Very bad.

Old Geezer #2: I know. But what can we do? It has been raining every day.

Old Geezer #1: Do you think we should pay them more?

Old Geezer #2: Aiyah, no point in doing that. They don't like working with rubbish when it's raining. They don't like to get their hands dirty.

Old Geezer #1: Maybe we should find someone else. What do you think?

Old Geezer #2: Who do you have in mind?

Old Geezer #1: Ape Yoghurt.

Old Geezer #2: Isn't she taking her Masters now?

Old Geezer #1: I don't think she has a choice. She owes me a few favours.

Old Geezer #2: Then we'd better get in touch with her ASAP.

Old Geezer #1: I'll call Monkey Butt.

Old Geezer #2: And don't forget Sam Seng.

Old Geezer #1: That Doctor Cess was a real fool. I mean how could he not know that he himself was an air sole?

Old Geezer #2: Yeah, he should've consulted us before he pressed the bloody button. If he had done that, he would be here with us tonight, smoking a fine Monte Cristo while drinking a hot glass of teh tarik halia and farting non-stop.

Old Geezer #1: It would've saved us a lot of trouble too. And now the box is lying somewhere while air soles continue to be born every minute. We must find the box ASAP and rid the world of air soles, once and for all.

.................................................................................

I had an epiphany, and finally understood everything. As I walked up to them, the two old geezers instinctively shrank away from me. After all, I smelled like all the baths that I hadn't taken for two months. I slowly raised my right hand, pointed at them both and said, "THE BOTH OF YOU ARE AIR SOLES. WHEN THEY FIND THE BOX, YOU'RE THE NEXT IN LINE TO GO." Then I laughed, the way I haven't laughed, for a very long time.