Hello hello, I believe it's been quite a while and that's because I've been feeling rather lazy of late. Yes, it really is as simple as that. Now of course there were times when I did feel like putting something down here but then when I got to the computer the laziness sets in, and there really isn't any point in me blogging when I don't feel like it because then you won't to read whatever it is I've written either. No, really, I did come here about a month ago but because I wasn't in the mood it didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to be and so I stopped there and then.
If you don't already know I am currently in Hong Kong, not for holiday, unfortunately, but rather for more mundane purposes. Education, if I remember correctly. Now I get a lot of people asking me why I chose this place out of the more conventional choices, and the reason is quite simply, really. Money, or rather, the lack of. My first choice was the UK but since I failed to get a scholarship, probably because I wasn't brown enough, Hong Kong was the second best choice. It even beats ALL the Australian unis as far as Engineering is concerned.
Since I got here you lot have been asking me what it's like, and I shall now proceed to describe this place as best as I possibly can. Hong Kong, you see, is a lot like Malaysia in many ways. It's hot, it's humid and it rains quite often, just like in KL. At least that's how it is in the fall season anyway, they say temperatures can drop to as low as ten degrees during winter. Malaysia is an Asian country, and so is Hong Kong, therefore everywhere you go you will see Chinese and sometimes Indian people, just like in KL. A big difference, however, is that you don't see rubbish and brownies strewn all over the place, which for me is the best bit.
When I tell people that I shall be studying in Hong Kong, the first thing I hear would be mutterings about how the cost of living here is exorbitantly high, and how if you're not rich you will die because you will soon run out of money and therefore won't be able to buy food, and if you have no food you will die. While this is indeed true, because I'm a student living on campus my accommodation and food costs are greatly reduced. On campus food prices average from 20 to 30HKD, while outside you will see yourself spending around 30 to 60HKD for a meal. While this may seem a lot to fork out for lunch, the helpings they give you are HUGE, so I pretty much end up paying the same as I would in KL anyway. I know this makes no sense to you now, but I shall make you see how it does make a lot of sense. You see, anyone who knows me well will know that your typical plate of chicken rice will NEVER be enough for me, and so I will keep on ordering multiple dishes until I am full. Here, however, the food portions here are so big that just one is enough to satisfy my venerable stomach. Shum-sized portions, if I may.
They say that Hong Kong is a shopper's paradise, and it is. The reason for this, in my opinion, is because everything here apart from the food is really ridiculously cheap. Things like clothes, shoes, gadgets and everything in between can be found for boner-inducing prices. I am, of course, talking about this in relation to KL prices. For example, your standard black-and-white Chuck Taylors will be about RM115 in that Converse store in 1u. Here, however, they can be found for less than RM70 if you know where to look. The best part though would be the Cotton On stores. Back home, a miserable t-shirt will demand that you pay over RM60 if you wish to be its wearer, but here, you can get TWO for less than RM70. Then you have the gadgets and other things with wires and buzzing bits in them. I paid HKD1090 for a pair of rather big and heavy Shure headphones, which really is quite a bargain because that very same pair would come with a price tag twice as heavy in KL, and I know you will think I'm mad for paying that much for something as seemingly unimportant as that, but for me it's money well spent because every time I put them on I get the most wonderful eargasms. And at least I don't spend 500 quid on a pair of bloody shoes.
Movie prices here are preposterously high though, the cheapest being HKD60 for a single ticket, no popcorn, no drinks, no hot dogs. Based on the current exchange rate, 1 Ringgit is approximately 2.4HKD, so you do the math. If you're a KL dweller and you feel like having a good time with your mates, you'd go to 1u or The Curve for lunch/dinner, bowling, pool and a movie. Here, however, the people don't go for dinner and to the movies after that, oh no, here they go clubbing. The most famous clubbing district here is Lan Kwai Fong, or LKF as it is so fondly known as, with clubs and bars at every nook and cranny, and the crowd really is something to behold. Just imagine Petaling Street, but at 2 a.m. in the morning and you pretty much have the picture.
Anyway during my first week here, my new found mates were talking about going to LKF the coming Saturday night. While we were on that topic a few of the girls kept saying things like 'I haven't danced for such a long timeee!' and 'Oh I wanna dance soooo badly!'. Now when the word 'dance' is put that way what I picture is proper dancing, not ballroom dancing obviously, but more like salsa or contemporary social dancing like you would see at an urban dance competition. Yes I know that I probably sound like a naive imbecile, especially if you're a clubber yourself, but what you must understand is that I was a clubbing virgin at that point of time. So when I stepped into a club for the first time in my whole bloody life, what I expected to see was people dancing in the aforementioned manner, not shaking about like a scarecrow being shagged by a cow. For the first half an hour or so I just stood at the bar ordering and consuming my share of 'free drinks' (typical entry fees are HKD200 and above, what you get with that varies depending on the club of your choice). Usually when my mates have big parties with the DJs and the dance floor I would always be with the same bunch of people sitting down at a table and stoning while everyone else danced and grinded the night away. I intended to do the same there, but then after some time I got rather tipsy and when you're tipsy you're shaky and when there's music you start shaking to the music. Makes sense now why clubs are filled to the brim with all sorts of alcohol. Halfway through the night things started to get interesting: an obviously drunk girl tried to make out with me not once but TWICE. Being the gentleman I was though I just wriggled out of her arms and let her friend take care of her. And then towards the end another mounted me from behind when I bent down to tie a shoelace. Very interesting indeed. A real pity though because those two girls were rather good looking.
My mid-terms are next week and it is because of this I shall be forced to start my feeble attempts at this activity known as 'studying'. I will try to include pictures next time and until then, happy boning.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
It's a bit like sex, really
Yes, I am very aware of the fact that my exams have ended over a week ago and yes, I do know that I've promised some of you lot that I would update once I had the darned things over and done with, but I do have a very good reason for not blogging as soon as promised. You see, I was completely obsessed with something. It was a hopeless addiction, this. No, I'm not talking about sex because I'm still very much a virgin. If, however, you're a very hot female of the species chestus maximus, you're very much welcome to change that. What I'm talking about here is a computer game, a game that I'm so addicted to that I can be at it for up to seven hours in a row, right into the wee hours of the morning when the cats start shagging (they make these really annoying mewing noises when they do that, see). I'm virtually at it any time I'm awake, other than the times I'm out with my mates or at dodge ball practice.
This electronic addiction is so strong that I haven't even touched my beloved basses since my exams were over. Now I'll have you know that fingering my basses gives me great satisfaction, a musical and aural pleasure that cannot be achieved with any computer game currently in existence, and sometimes I even get high when I'm sitting in my room with my Fender Strat, so high that I can sit there thinking 'awww I'm just going to be another five minutes' but when I'm done playing, an hour has mysteriously disappeared. I know that this makes no sense to you, dear reader, because you're probably thinking 'If you get so much pleasure out of fingering a piece of metal, why not do it all day instead of having your face glued to a computer screen?'
I shall now make you see sense, for it is like comparing smoking with sex. Anyone with a bit of nous will know that sex gives a person possibly a hundred times more pleasure than a cigarette ever will. The thing is, though, a smoker can't go for a couple of hours without having a fag, while even a playboy will be able to survive for a few days if he can't get a shag. This is simply because smoking an addiction, the smoker starts getting sweaty and jiggly if he can't get those nasty little black bits of chemicals into his lungs. So it is the same with me: Company of Heroes (that's the game I'm talking about btw) is analogous to smoking, and my bass is analogous to sex. Show me a guy capable of shagging for seven hours without stopping and I'll show you a Chinaman with a twelve inch wang.
I shall have to take your leave now because I'm in dire need of my electronic fix. A word of caution first, however: if any of you lads are aspiring musicians or in fact have talents of the non-academic, non-electronic sort that you want to persue in desperate hope of using said talent as an alternative to sitting in an office cubicle, please, for the love of Jimi Hendrix's afro, don't start playing computer games, at least not if you have addiction issues similiar to mine. Now I will tell you that the one thing I made clear to myself before I got hooked was that irrelevant of the circumstances, my social life shall always get first dibs over my gaming life, and it is this that has saved me from becoming a complete spannar. No, really, I am that addicted to this pile of pixels. Goodnight and very wet dreams I bid you lot.
This electronic addiction is so strong that I haven't even touched my beloved basses since my exams were over. Now I'll have you know that fingering my basses gives me great satisfaction, a musical and aural pleasure that cannot be achieved with any computer game currently in existence, and sometimes I even get high when I'm sitting in my room with my Fender Strat, so high that I can sit there thinking 'awww I'm just going to be another five minutes' but when I'm done playing, an hour has mysteriously disappeared. I know that this makes no sense to you, dear reader, because you're probably thinking 'If you get so much pleasure out of fingering a piece of metal, why not do it all day instead of having your face glued to a computer screen?'
I shall now make you see sense, for it is like comparing smoking with sex. Anyone with a bit of nous will know that sex gives a person possibly a hundred times more pleasure than a cigarette ever will. The thing is, though, a smoker can't go for a couple of hours without having a fag, while even a playboy will be able to survive for a few days if he can't get a shag. This is simply because smoking an addiction, the smoker starts getting sweaty and jiggly if he can't get those nasty little black bits of chemicals into his lungs. So it is the same with me: Company of Heroes (that's the game I'm talking about btw) is analogous to smoking, and my bass is analogous to sex. Show me a guy capable of shagging for seven hours without stopping and I'll show you a Chinaman with a twelve inch wang.
I shall have to take your leave now because I'm in dire need of my electronic fix. A word of caution first, however: if any of you lads are aspiring musicians or in fact have talents of the non-academic, non-electronic sort that you want to persue in desperate hope of using said talent as an alternative to sitting in an office cubicle, please, for the love of Jimi Hendrix's afro, don't start playing computer games, at least not if you have addiction issues similiar to mine. Now I will tell you that the one thing I made clear to myself before I got hooked was that irrelevant of the circumstances, my social life shall always get first dibs over my gaming life, and it is this that has saved me from becoming a complete spannar. No, really, I am that addicted to this pile of pixels. Goodnight and very wet dreams I bid you lot.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Four guys, one bedroom
I've managed to get my room back. No, really, I have, and I know that some of you lot are really wondering how I achieved something that can be described as quite impossible. Well I decided on Friday night last week that I was going to sleep in my own bloody room since it was a Friday night and therefore not much harm could come from me sleeping a little late. So when bedtime came, I locked the doors and put on my noise-canceling headphones so I wouldn't be able to hear anyone knocking on my door. Unfortunately, my mom miraculously managed to get my attention and made me open the door to surrender my phone since it was recognized as a potential threat to my sleep. Thankfully, after handing it over I was allowed to sleep in my room once again.
The next day, however, my dad came up with the very creative idea that I might sneak down in the middle of the night when everyone else was having wet dreams to use the computer. This, to a certain extent I shall be forced to agree, is true, but I knew I wasn't going to do that anymore with doomsday just over two weeks to go. With the phone threat eliminated (my mom had since taken away my SIM card when she caught me texting while studying), my dad identified the computer as the only thing left that could compromise my sleep. Now obviously I wasn't going to give up my room without a fight now, was I? So what I did then was go downstairs, pull all the cables out of the damn thing, lug it upstairs and plonk it down in front of the entrance to the master bedroom. Now there was no excuse for them to not let me sleep in my own room. Heh.
On a much lighter note, three of the lads came over to spend the night at my house after trials were over. The aforementioned three were Ganesh, Gabriel and Laveen. I got my dad to bring home the projector since what I wanted to do was watch movies cinema-style, but the other three, it seems, had other ideas. Being the hardcore DoTA freaks they were, all they wanted to do was play that silly game. And the fact that my house had two computers and a laptop made the idea even more appealing. With Gabby's laptop factored in we had four rigs, perfect for a 2v2. But then we had a problem. I had forgotten that the laptop didn't have a mouse, and without one it would be quite impossible to properly control your oh-so-magical hero so as to be able to turn Laveen's character into a chicken.
Given that it was apparently my fault for not remembering the fact that I didn't have enough mice, I was given the task of looking for one of those electronic rodents. So obviously the first thing I would do is go to the neighbours, but the problem was that I didn't know my neighbours very well (I should be ashamed, I know), and the chaps to the right of my house weren't in at the moment, while the house on the left didn't have a doorbell. It was at that point that I remembered that a friend of a friend lived down the road, and therefore there was a chance that she might so kindly lend us a mouse. This is going to be very weird indeed, I thought, and rightly so because I didn't know her very well. Nevertheless, desperate times required desperate measures, so I called up Lynette and requested that she contact her friend who lived down my street, Nicole, to ask her if she could spare us a mouse. After a few suspense-filled moments of waiting, Lynette texted me a positive reply, so Gabby and I went out and walked down the street to retreive the wired rodent. With that, the two ladies become our saviours for the night. The lads extend their thanks, by the way.
With all four rigs up and running, my living room and dining room started to look like a mini-cybercafe. So, let the games begin! It was an MCA-MIC matchup, with Gabby and I on the two main computers in the living room, while Laveen and Ganesh had the ball-burners in the dining room. We played two rounds and were about to play some more when my mom woke up and told us to go to bed. Anyway, I am proud to announce that MCA won 2-nil. Noobs =P
Now you know what Ganesh's hair looks like when it isn't waxed.
After the gaming session I had to figure out how to fit three and a half men into my bedroom. It was then that I decided to do a little improvising my taking out the two sofa cushions (the ones that you sit on) from the huge sofa in my living room and chuck them on the floor to the left of my bed, while the other side got the cushion from a much smaller one upstairs. Oh and there were lots of pillows. Unfortunately, a pillow fight wouldn't have been a good idea at the time. Before going to bed though, we played Chor Tai Ti till about four a.m. in the morning, after which we decided it would be a good idea to get some shut-eye.
We really have a problem with card addiction here. This was taken at 4am in the morning.
Ganesh and I got the bed and since there was only one blanket we had to share it, and I didn't think blanket-sharing was possible until then. Gabby got the floor on my right while Laveen was on Ganesh's left. Now it is worth noting that Gabby here was sleeping directly under the air-conditioner while Laveen would be snoozing at the end of the room where the cold air was least likely to go. And this is why I was completely dumbfounded by the fact that Laveen had snagged the second blanket while all Gabby had to cover the end of his feet was a shirt. The poor sod was so cold that at one time when I woke up in the middle of the night he had himself covered in what looked like ten pillows, while Laveen on the other end complained that he was feeling quite hot throughout the night. Idiots, both of them. I shall now leave you with a rather disturbing picture of Gabby getting sexually assaulted by Ganesh.
You have to wonder why they still bother trying to justify the mythical fact that they're not gay. Just look at the orgasmic smile on Ganesh's face.
The next day, however, my dad came up with the very creative idea that I might sneak down in the middle of the night when everyone else was having wet dreams to use the computer. This, to a certain extent I shall be forced to agree, is true, but I knew I wasn't going to do that anymore with doomsday just over two weeks to go. With the phone threat eliminated (my mom had since taken away my SIM card when she caught me texting while studying), my dad identified the computer as the only thing left that could compromise my sleep. Now obviously I wasn't going to give up my room without a fight now, was I? So what I did then was go downstairs, pull all the cables out of the damn thing, lug it upstairs and plonk it down in front of the entrance to the master bedroom. Now there was no excuse for them to not let me sleep in my own room. Heh.
On a much lighter note, three of the lads came over to spend the night at my house after trials were over. The aforementioned three were Ganesh, Gabriel and Laveen. I got my dad to bring home the projector since what I wanted to do was watch movies cinema-style, but the other three, it seems, had other ideas. Being the hardcore DoTA freaks they were, all they wanted to do was play that silly game. And the fact that my house had two computers and a laptop made the idea even more appealing. With Gabby's laptop factored in we had four rigs, perfect for a 2v2. But then we had a problem. I had forgotten that the laptop didn't have a mouse, and without one it would be quite impossible to properly control your oh-so-magical hero so as to be able to turn Laveen's character into a chicken.
Given that it was apparently my fault for not remembering the fact that I didn't have enough mice, I was given the task of looking for one of those electronic rodents. So obviously the first thing I would do is go to the neighbours, but the problem was that I didn't know my neighbours very well (I should be ashamed, I know), and the chaps to the right of my house weren't in at the moment, while the house on the left didn't have a doorbell. It was at that point that I remembered that a friend of a friend lived down the road, and therefore there was a chance that she might so kindly lend us a mouse. This is going to be very weird indeed, I thought, and rightly so because I didn't know her very well. Nevertheless, desperate times required desperate measures, so I called up Lynette and requested that she contact her friend who lived down my street, Nicole, to ask her if she could spare us a mouse. After a few suspense-filled moments of waiting, Lynette texted me a positive reply, so Gabby and I went out and walked down the street to retreive the wired rodent. With that, the two ladies become our saviours for the night. The lads extend their thanks, by the way.
With all four rigs up and running, my living room and dining room started to look like a mini-cybercafe. So, let the games begin! It was an MCA-MIC matchup, with Gabby and I on the two main computers in the living room, while Laveen and Ganesh had the ball-burners in the dining room. We played two rounds and were about to play some more when my mom woke up and told us to go to bed. Anyway, I am proud to announce that MCA won 2-nil. Noobs =P
Now you know what Ganesh's hair looks like when it isn't waxed.After the gaming session I had to figure out how to fit three and a half men into my bedroom. It was then that I decided to do a little improvising my taking out the two sofa cushions (the ones that you sit on) from the huge sofa in my living room and chuck them on the floor to the left of my bed, while the other side got the cushion from a much smaller one upstairs. Oh and there were lots of pillows. Unfortunately, a pillow fight wouldn't have been a good idea at the time. Before going to bed though, we played Chor Tai Ti till about four a.m. in the morning, after which we decided it would be a good idea to get some shut-eye.
We really have a problem with card addiction here. This was taken at 4am in the morning.Ganesh and I got the bed and since there was only one blanket we had to share it, and I didn't think blanket-sharing was possible until then. Gabby got the floor on my right while Laveen was on Ganesh's left. Now it is worth noting that Gabby here was sleeping directly under the air-conditioner while Laveen would be snoozing at the end of the room where the cold air was least likely to go. And this is why I was completely dumbfounded by the fact that Laveen had snagged the second blanket while all Gabby had to cover the end of his feet was a shirt. The poor sod was so cold that at one time when I woke up in the middle of the night he had himself covered in what looked like ten pillows, while Laveen on the other end complained that he was feeling quite hot throughout the night. Idiots, both of them. I shall now leave you with a rather disturbing picture of Gabby getting sexually assaulted by Ganesh.
You have to wonder why they still bother trying to justify the mythical fact that they're not gay. Just look at the orgasmic smile on Ganesh's face.Friday, April 23, 2010
I'm on the bloody throne, what the hell do you want?!
My mom thinks that I'm either overconfident or that I just don't really care about how my exams turn out. I, however, beg to differ. Because it's not that I don't care about my academic well being, I do, I really do, it's just that I'm sometimes (or rather most of the time) just too lazy to do anything about it. The mood isn't right most of the time, partly because of the unbearable heat on weekend afternoons, and mostly because of my insatiable addiction to 'carbon hydroxide' (those of you who know me well will know very well what I'm talking about). I have a mild suspicion that it is because of all this that my trial results were rather catastrophic. I got an A for Chemistry (kiasu bastard, I know what you're thinking, but please, wait for me to list down the remaining grades), a C for Pure Math which is completely unacceptable and a C for Physics, and I blame this on the fact that I had the urgent need to empty my bowels halfway through the exam. I'm telling you, this pooping problem of mine is going to cost me dearly. Oh and I failed Further Math, plainly because I didn't study for it. At all.
Now I shall tell you that I've never gotten results this bad before, and the most atrocious grade I've ever been awarded for any exam (I'm not referring to small class/topical tests here, mind you) was a B, and this, I reckon, is partly the reason for my dad's reaction when my mom gave him a description of what my report card looked like. I won't know how he reacted for sure because I wasn't there, but me mom said that he couldn't believe his ears. So obviously something had to be done to ensure that my trial results don't decide to make a surprise reappearance on my REAL exam certificate which Cambridge will so kindly send me all the way from England. I accept this fact, yes, but what I can't accept is that my dad wants me to sleep in HIS room with my mom until my exams are over in June. His reason? My room's got too many distractions, and he reckons that the reason I never get enough sleep is because I keep fiddling with this and mucking about with that until the wee hours in the morning. That, I shall be forced to agree, is true, but I think I won't be doing that any more with my A-Level finals less than a month away. Frankly, though, I think that this is a bit much. I've been sleeping in the master bedroom for two nights now and I miss my bed and my room dearly. Now obviously I won't be able to withstand my mom's hard bed and the inability to toss and turn and jump on my own bed as I please for much longer, so I will have to try very hard to convince my dad to let me sleep in my own bloody room. In any case, I won't be able to sleep as soundly in a bed that isn't my own, and that defeats the his whole purpose of wanting me to sleep in his room doesn't it?
The most ridiculous thing, however, is that he wants my mom to time me every time I pay a visit to my revered loo, simply to ensure that I don't spend more time than an average man takes to empty his bowels. Can you see how ridiculous that is?! I have now been deprived of the luxury pooping in peace. I shall have to sign off here because that's exactly what I've been doing while typing this entire post. Yes, I am currently on the throne. And I have to leave because my arse is starting to hurt.
Now I shall tell you that I've never gotten results this bad before, and the most atrocious grade I've ever been awarded for any exam (I'm not referring to small class/topical tests here, mind you) was a B, and this, I reckon, is partly the reason for my dad's reaction when my mom gave him a description of what my report card looked like. I won't know how he reacted for sure because I wasn't there, but me mom said that he couldn't believe his ears. So obviously something had to be done to ensure that my trial results don't decide to make a surprise reappearance on my REAL exam certificate which Cambridge will so kindly send me all the way from England. I accept this fact, yes, but what I can't accept is that my dad wants me to sleep in HIS room with my mom until my exams are over in June. His reason? My room's got too many distractions, and he reckons that the reason I never get enough sleep is because I keep fiddling with this and mucking about with that until the wee hours in the morning. That, I shall be forced to agree, is true, but I think I won't be doing that any more with my A-Level finals less than a month away. Frankly, though, I think that this is a bit much. I've been sleeping in the master bedroom for two nights now and I miss my bed and my room dearly. Now obviously I won't be able to withstand my mom's hard bed and the inability to toss and turn and jump on my own bed as I please for much longer, so I will have to try very hard to convince my dad to let me sleep in my own bloody room. In any case, I won't be able to sleep as soundly in a bed that isn't my own, and that defeats the his whole purpose of wanting me to sleep in his room doesn't it?
The most ridiculous thing, however, is that he wants my mom to time me every time I pay a visit to my revered loo, simply to ensure that I don't spend more time than an average man takes to empty his bowels. Can you see how ridiculous that is?! I have now been deprived of the luxury pooping in peace. I shall have to sign off here because that's exactly what I've been doing while typing this entire post. Yes, I am currently on the throne. And I have to leave because my arse is starting to hurt.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
God's an alcoholic
Greetings fellow padawans! It's been a while, quite a while indeed. I've been busy, very busy indeed. Well actually, I still am. So then why am I here, when I could be doing other things, things more important than writing out my life for all to read? I shall tell you why, oh yes I shall. The reason is simple. Today is an important day, the day I began my quest to aquire my manhood (at least that's what Gabby calls it). Yes people, today was the day I started taking the necessary procedures needed to learn how to drive.
Any self-respecting Malaysian would know that the first step to being a legal contributing factor to the infamous Malaysian traffic jam (or was it strawberry?) is the Undang class. Which is what I attended today. Yes, that dreaded five hour ordeal of boredom. Or at least that's what every single person I talked said it would be like. No, you don't have to pay attention because he's just going to drone on and on about things you wouldn't bother knowing, and yes you can do your homework, sleep or even watch a movie. I, however, beg to differ. Because you see, my lecture today was rather different in nature to the standard issue Undang seminars that most poor souls have to put up with. I shall now explain how.
Our lecturer started off the day by making sure that everyone had clocked in using their thumbs, and repeatedly stressed the importance of clocking out once we were done because if we didn't we'd have to go through the whole damn thing all over again. What's so significant about this then? If you're a proper Malaysian you will know that typical government workers are never this thorough. In fact, most of the time they're not thorough at all. It was his attitude that really impressed me. Because I thought most brownies had the same 'tidak apa' attitude. So anyway, after that was done he made us introduce ourselves to the class, one by one. The whole process took about half an hour, and during that time I felt like I was in primary school all over again. It was then that I felt really appreciative about having a Malay-sounding name. Because, well, most of them have trouble pronouncing Chinese names properly the first time. Anyway, then it was my turn to introduce myself. I went 'Nama saya Shum...' and then everyone turned and looked at me. And you can probably imagine why. Heh.
Now here's the interesting part: Mr Shukri, or Mr S as he liked to be known, started off the day by showing us some really interesting videos. Videos demonstrating the exceptional skills and stunts our venerable Mat Rempits were capable of doing. Amont the usual wheelies and whatnots, one of the more unusual (at least to us) stunts were like when this dude was bloody standing on his bike and controlling the whole thing with his feet. And another pillion rider was bending over and literally sweeping the road with his head. This was the first part of the videos. And then things got really graphic: he started showing us videos of accidents. Real ones, not those made up videos by the JPJ. The first one was of a motorcyclist who obviously wasn't very aware of what was happening behind him getting rear-ended by a prime mover. Poor sod got separated from his bike (the things don't have seat belts, see) and went UNDERNEATH the huge wheels of the truck. This wasn't so bad, and by that I mean not too graphic. The most vomit-inducing picture was the one with a rempit whose body was literally split in half, guts lying all over the road. The most disturbing one, I feel, was the one where they showed a fallen rempit, still alive, blood everywhere, with his leg bone broken and PIERCING through his thigh. I nearly puked when I saw this one. Now the reason Mr S showed us such graphic picture was simple: he wanted to send us a message, a very clear and somber one. And I imagine you would be smart enough to be able to figure out what that message is.
After the first video session he started with the more regular stuff, with bits of humour thrown in every now and then. What I liked was that he didn't try to cover everything but just explained the important stuff, the ones he knew were most likely to come out in the test. And he showed us more entertaining videos between explanations. What made this particular class so different from any run-of-the-mill seminar was that the class of over 30 burst into laughter every five minutes, and this clearly demonstrates how entertaining our lecturer was. And about two hours into the class, he could see that some of us were obviously in dire need of some standing up and walking about. So what he did was to make us stand, turn to the right and.........rub each other's backs. I'm not kidding: Look!
However, entertaining as this class was, it provided a clear demonstration of some of the nasty habits unique only to Malaysians. Example: About an hour since the start of the session, a cell phone started ringing loudly. It belonged to a fat, brown hoodie. Now what was so extraordinary about this was that instead of reaching into her hand bag and silencing the offending phone, she repeatedly kicked said bag underneath her chair, picked it up and then clutched it tightly in her hands. I haven't the foggiest why she did this and neither did everyone else. Really, I was dumbf***ed. I assume it was because she thought squeezing her bag would somehow soften her flashy ringtone. But this was slightly acceptable, but only in the tiniest degree of acceptance. Because it is sometimes natural for us to forget to tell our phone to be quiet. What was infuriating was the fact that she didn't bother silencing her phone after that incident, because it rang not once but two more times. I'm not joking. I think her hood was preventing her brain from breathing and working properly. If she had one that is. To my dismay, however, it turns out that a lot more in the class were brainless imbeciles because a few more phones rang throughout the class. It's like as though the first ringing phone wasn't enough to serve as a reminder for everyone else to tell their beloved tellies to shut up. There was even this one time when two phones rang at the exact same time! I was like 'OMGWTF MR SHUKRI DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS' but I think he was too nice to do anything about that. Pity.
I shall now take the time to explain to you why having an exceptionally high metabolic isn't always a good thing. Let's get into some biology now, shall we? When someone, say, me, has the aforementioned metabolic rate, he or she has to eat more because the normal amount of food simply isn't enough. To say that I'm a big eater is an understatement, and all my mates will verify that. I need colossal amounts of food because my body digests food very, very quickly and therefore I need to chuck more eatables into my mouth to prevent my stomach from eating itself. And when my body digests food at a faster rate than 'normal' people, more waste is produced and therefore I produce more poop per unit time, or p/t if you like. Which means that my butthole gets a good working out, sometimes up to four times a day. And this is a bad thing, which I found out the hard way today. I felt the need to empty my bowels, halfway through the class, and I just shat right before coming! I was trying desperately to wait till I got home, because who in their right mind would want to use a Malaysian public toilet?
But all was in vain, and I had to pay a visit to the cubicle of doom. Which surprised me because it wasn't so bad after all. It was relatively clean, there was not much to smell BUT someone had stolen the toilet seat cover so I had to sit my poor butt on the cold, hard ceramic toilet seat.
During lunch I paid another visit to the feared restroom, this time to use the urinal and I found this:
It was at this point that I nearly gave up hope on the salvation of our kind (but I shall tell you that I'm not your typical Malaysian). Someone actually pooped in the friggin urinal! Yet again, I was dumbf***ed by the sanitary abilities of Malaysians, but then I thought: What if the culprit was someone like me, some poor sod who desperately needed to relieve himself but was unfortunate enough to visit the restroom at a time when all the other cubicles were occupied? Maybe he hadn't a choice? He had to relieve himself someway. But then again it could just be some idiot trying to be funny.
So anyway that's how I spent my day, watching locally produced gore horror movies and analyzing the nasty little habits of Malaysians. Before I go to bed, I want to tell you that the next time someone says 'For God's sake' to me I shall assume that you're trying to tell me that God is indeed an alcoholic. Goodnight and wet dreams.
Any self-respecting Malaysian would know that the first step to being a legal contributing factor to the infamous Malaysian traffic jam (or was it strawberry?) is the Undang class. Which is what I attended today. Yes, that dreaded five hour ordeal of boredom. Or at least that's what every single person I talked said it would be like. No, you don't have to pay attention because he's just going to drone on and on about things you wouldn't bother knowing, and yes you can do your homework, sleep or even watch a movie. I, however, beg to differ. Because you see, my lecture today was rather different in nature to the standard issue Undang seminars that most poor souls have to put up with. I shall now explain how.
Our lecturer started off the day by making sure that everyone had clocked in using their thumbs, and repeatedly stressed the importance of clocking out once we were done because if we didn't we'd have to go through the whole damn thing all over again. What's so significant about this then? If you're a proper Malaysian you will know that typical government workers are never this thorough. In fact, most of the time they're not thorough at all. It was his attitude that really impressed me. Because I thought most brownies had the same 'tidak apa' attitude. So anyway, after that was done he made us introduce ourselves to the class, one by one. The whole process took about half an hour, and during that time I felt like I was in primary school all over again. It was then that I felt really appreciative about having a Malay-sounding name. Because, well, most of them have trouble pronouncing Chinese names properly the first time. Anyway, then it was my turn to introduce myself. I went 'Nama saya Shum...' and then everyone turned and looked at me. And you can probably imagine why. Heh.
Now here's the interesting part: Mr Shukri, or Mr S as he liked to be known, started off the day by showing us some really interesting videos. Videos demonstrating the exceptional skills and stunts our venerable Mat Rempits were capable of doing. Amont the usual wheelies and whatnots, one of the more unusual (at least to us) stunts were like when this dude was bloody standing on his bike and controlling the whole thing with his feet. And another pillion rider was bending over and literally sweeping the road with his head. This was the first part of the videos. And then things got really graphic: he started showing us videos of accidents. Real ones, not those made up videos by the JPJ. The first one was of a motorcyclist who obviously wasn't very aware of what was happening behind him getting rear-ended by a prime mover. Poor sod got separated from his bike (the things don't have seat belts, see) and went UNDERNEATH the huge wheels of the truck. This wasn't so bad, and by that I mean not too graphic. The most vomit-inducing picture was the one with a rempit whose body was literally split in half, guts lying all over the road. The most disturbing one, I feel, was the one where they showed a fallen rempit, still alive, blood everywhere, with his leg bone broken and PIERCING through his thigh. I nearly puked when I saw this one. Now the reason Mr S showed us such graphic picture was simple: he wanted to send us a message, a very clear and somber one. And I imagine you would be smart enough to be able to figure out what that message is.
After the first video session he started with the more regular stuff, with bits of humour thrown in every now and then. What I liked was that he didn't try to cover everything but just explained the important stuff, the ones he knew were most likely to come out in the test. And he showed us more entertaining videos between explanations. What made this particular class so different from any run-of-the-mill seminar was that the class of over 30 burst into laughter every five minutes, and this clearly demonstrates how entertaining our lecturer was. And about two hours into the class, he could see that some of us were obviously in dire need of some standing up and walking about. So what he did was to make us stand, turn to the right and.........rub each other's backs. I'm not kidding: Look!
However, entertaining as this class was, it provided a clear demonstration of some of the nasty habits unique only to Malaysians. Example: About an hour since the start of the session, a cell phone started ringing loudly. It belonged to a fat, brown hoodie. Now what was so extraordinary about this was that instead of reaching into her hand bag and silencing the offending phone, she repeatedly kicked said bag underneath her chair, picked it up and then clutched it tightly in her hands. I haven't the foggiest why she did this and neither did everyone else. Really, I was dumbf***ed. I assume it was because she thought squeezing her bag would somehow soften her flashy ringtone. But this was slightly acceptable, but only in the tiniest degree of acceptance. Because it is sometimes natural for us to forget to tell our phone to be quiet. What was infuriating was the fact that she didn't bother silencing her phone after that incident, because it rang not once but two more times. I'm not joking. I think her hood was preventing her brain from breathing and working properly. If she had one that is. To my dismay, however, it turns out that a lot more in the class were brainless imbeciles because a few more phones rang throughout the class. It's like as though the first ringing phone wasn't enough to serve as a reminder for everyone else to tell their beloved tellies to shut up. There was even this one time when two phones rang at the exact same time! I was like 'OMGWTF MR SHUKRI DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS' but I think he was too nice to do anything about that. Pity.
I shall now take the time to explain to you why having an exceptionally high metabolic isn't always a good thing. Let's get into some biology now, shall we? When someone, say, me, has the aforementioned metabolic rate, he or she has to eat more because the normal amount of food simply isn't enough. To say that I'm a big eater is an understatement, and all my mates will verify that. I need colossal amounts of food because my body digests food very, very quickly and therefore I need to chuck more eatables into my mouth to prevent my stomach from eating itself. And when my body digests food at a faster rate than 'normal' people, more waste is produced and therefore I produce more poop per unit time, or p/t if you like. Which means that my butthole gets a good working out, sometimes up to four times a day. And this is a bad thing, which I found out the hard way today. I felt the need to empty my bowels, halfway through the class, and I just shat right before coming! I was trying desperately to wait till I got home, because who in their right mind would want to use a Malaysian public toilet?
But all was in vain, and I had to pay a visit to the cubicle of doom. Which surprised me because it wasn't so bad after all. It was relatively clean, there was not much to smell BUT someone had stolen the toilet seat cover so I had to sit my poor butt on the cold, hard ceramic toilet seat.
During lunch I paid another visit to the feared restroom, this time to use the urinal and I found this:
It was at this point that I nearly gave up hope on the salvation of our kind (but I shall tell you that I'm not your typical Malaysian). Someone actually pooped in the friggin urinal! Yet again, I was dumbf***ed by the sanitary abilities of Malaysians, but then I thought: What if the culprit was someone like me, some poor sod who desperately needed to relieve himself but was unfortunate enough to visit the restroom at a time when all the other cubicles were occupied? Maybe he hadn't a choice? He had to relieve himself someway. But then again it could just be some idiot trying to be funny.
So anyway that's how I spent my day, watching locally produced gore horror movies and analyzing the nasty little habits of Malaysians. Before I go to bed, I want to tell you that the next time someone says 'For God's sake' to me I shall assume that you're trying to tell me that God is indeed an alcoholic. Goodnight and wet dreams.
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