.: A little taste of obscurity :.

:: Thursday, June 23, 2005 ::

random rambling part two

For those of you who bothered to notice, I have been away for a bit. I mean, if you don’t find me drunk and yelling like a crazy bitch for Twilight Action Girl to play Smashing Pumpkins on a Friday night, I’ve either died, ran away or I’m busy getting fucked in the ass by a huge hairy Indian dude whose real name is probably Babu Basha but goes by his ghetto Nigga name Baby Bash.

Since I’m still typing this shit, I’m probably not dead. And since I can’t exactly run with the stumps I have posing as legs, that only leaves one other possibility. So the only logical explanation to my disappearance would coincide with the announcement of my new name Jeya Logeswaran aka J. Log.

I like this new name. But Baby Bash calls me Chink Ho With Indian Tits, Hips & Alcohol Tolerance, which can be aptly shortened to CHoWIN’ THAT, much to the envy of his other Indian friends who can only chow on bad shaped Indian hoes with long curly hair that has to be tamed with coconut oil and a tight braid.

Speaking of bad shaped Indian hoes, one of them was seated on the opposite table when I was eating in Gurney Drive. She was wearing a short white flair skirt with red roses randomly plastered all over it, a black spaghetti strap top with a slit from the end of her cleavage right up to her navel, and a pair of strappy white heels. As if that wasn’t enough visual torture, her face resembled that of a deformed rat which got crushed by your father's sedan.

If your mind had the capability to visualise images properly, you would've cried at the strappy white hells part. Come on, if your skin is as black as the Ace of Spades, I highly recommend you don't wear WHITE STRAPS around your feet. Not only will you look like your mother had a brief affair with a Zebra before she conceived you, but the contrast will make your skin appear darker, thus making you look like nothing but a pair of shoes walking in the middle of the night.

"Oh. Shit. What. The. Fuck. Is. That?"

"Why, what’s wrong? Did you see something? Oh my God, you saw something, right?"

"It's …. It's … Uh … It's …"

"What the fuck is it, you stuttering hoe? What? Is it a ghost?"

"No, it's a pair of SHOES! WALKING ON ITS OWN! GHOST SHOES! AND ITS FUCKING WALKING THIS WAY! ARGH! OH FUCKING SHIT THE SHOES ARE ATTACHED TO SOME DARK MASS!"

"Hey, J.Log, whassup girlfriend, why the hollerin in the middle of the night yo? Remember me? Kumari ooops, I meant K.U. Mary … we wuz chillin down at Bangsar one time, remember?"

"ARGH!!! TALKING INDIAN SHOES WHO THINKS SHE'S A SISTA! PLEASE! LEAVE BLACK MUSIC ALONE, DON'T MAKE ANOTHER BANGRA REMIX OF A HIP HOP TUNE! PLEEEEASEEEE!!!"

Yes, I fear talking white shoes belonging to Indians who think they're African Americans. Or maybe I'm just afraid of dark coloured things.

Can't be all true though because I like Adrian, soy sauce and the big black dildo Michelle gave me to replace my dusty dildo shaped to look like Ayanami from Evangelion atop my chest of drawers.

Whist we're on the topic of sex, man, I'm seriously lacking in that department. Back then, I was the fucking ho revered by all virgins and 50 dollar prostitutes whom I would proudly bestow my sexual advices upon. Back then, the pharmacist knew me by name because I'd not only be the regular contraceptive/morning-after pill purchaser, but a six-pack box of condoms would last me less than a week. Back then, once I lay on the bed, my knees would instinctively reach my ears.

Back then, I had to look up the dictionary to find out what 'masturbate' meant.

Now look at me: Taking the term 'neckline' to a whole new level by wearing a top that exposed so much cleavage it might as well be named the Ravine of Death, to a party in Thai Bar in the hopes that Michelle's hot Art Director would accidentally drop an ice cube down my top so that it would get wedged in between my cleavage and I could ask him to use his teeth to fetch the ice out.

And then I would clench my boob muscles and entrap his head in my cleavage so he would be mine forever muahaha. So the next time you spot a hoe with a man growing out of her chest, come up to me and say "Damn, those ARE the Tits of Fury". And I'll slap you on the face with my tits and introduce you to them: Ashanti and Topanga. Don't ask me how the stupid names came about, must've been one of those random talk cock sessions when stupid shit come up.

While I'm still talking about stupid shit, what the fuck is up with fame whore bloggers man? That bloody waste of newsprint in The Star nearly fucking made me choke on my bacon and eggs. First, I had to endure some bitch’s face which took up 90% of the paper. My two words of advice for the The Star's photographer: PANORAMIC VIEW. I flip the page and what's next? Another twat’s retarded face.

And then I stood up, with bacon oils dripping down my chin and coffee leaking through my nostrils, and thanked God that they didn't put a full page picture of his cock face.

"Why, Su-Yin, why do you abhor that cock-faced retard so much? He didn't do anything to you! All he did was change our lives forever by making our sad office lives less mundane with his entertaining 'jokes' and parodies of random shit that no one used to care about."

What the fuck do you mean he didn't do anything to me? The sight of his face alone makes my ovaries shrink into oblivion. So indirectly, he causes infertility.

And what 'jokes' are you idiots rambling about? How he said his balls were the size of coconuts? Wow, that's the same joke my classmates in primary school used to tell. How he takes the mickey out of all things Malaysian? C.W. Kee the comic artist has been pulling that lame shit for ages why don’t you dolts go make an altar for him then. Personally, I think the only joke he made was announcing that he won or is up to win some Blogger award.

Wow, great for you, dipshit. Pat yourself on the back for winning/being in the running to win an award which means absolutely NOTHING. Kinda like the Malaysian Book of Records awards. You can win all the fucking awards they offer in every damn category but the fact still remains you're a retarded cock-faced wanker who just wants to be told "Great job" by someone else other than your Mom.

Stupid fame whore. Anyone geeky enough will know that the typical trait of a fame whore is to plug his stupid blog on every other 'established' blog out there. All you budding bloggers out there who want a little bit of fame in a world that is NOT real, all you have to do to is:

1. Visit every other 'established' blog and leave a comment. Be VERY sure to leave a link to your own blog.
2. Do a parody of said 'established' blogs, if possible, do an obscene pose of Xiaxue. Be VERY sure to leave a link to their blogs, so that the blog owner will be able to track back to your blog.
3. Put up heaps of photos because hey, the only way to get attention is by using visuals. Why? Simple. The act of reading is heading to a steady decline. Put up images and people will absorb your shit better.
4. Do tonnes of stupid jokes that make fun of typical Malaysian shit, because Malaysians never tire of laughing at how different Chinese, Malays and Indians are, or do a special on how Malaysian roads have real ‘funny’ names.
5. Make a quiz to help personality-less fools find out which Malaysian Blogger they best resemble.

Congratulations, dumbfucks. Not only did you need a quiz to help you find out your personality, now you know you’re just as witty as kennysia. Congratu-fucking-lations. You amount to a MALAYSIAN BLOGGER. I quote one of the interviewees of that God-awful The Star feature:

“Many Malaysian blogs out there right now all talk about the same things – religion, movies, Star Wars, sex. It’s a bit boring at times,”
- minishorts does a Sherlock Holmes.

So pop a bottle of champagne, you now know you’re a part of the BORING MASS. Happy now?

Talking about mass, which rhymes with sea bass, I didn’t see any of them in Penang. I was up there for a few days, sipping Chivas throughout the day and night, stopping only to eat or bathe. No wait, I brought a glass of whisky into the bathroom when I soaked in the tub too. Oh, and come to think of it, I washed down Roti Babi with whisky too.

Damn it, I drank so much I fluttered to the breakfast buffet to loudly cuss at people who woke up before 8am. And after wolfing down some sausages, I went back upstairs to drink some more.

Yeah, whilst I’m still thinking of food, I swear the food in Penang is lethal. I caught this old fat hoe frying up some chilli paste for the Char Kway Teow, but she chucked so much in her wok that the smoke and smell rose and in the next five seconds, everyone in the coffee shop was choking. Much like a scene in World War II when the Nazis gassed them naked Jews. Except unlike the Jews, we didn’t die, much to our dismay. Everywhere I turned my tear-filled eyes, people were choking – Old uncles sputtered out their Kopi-O-Peng, old aunties hacked on Kway Teow Th’ng, young girls choked on Sar Hor Fun and young boys suffocated on Lor Bak. Morsels of food got lodged in between their throat and nasal passage as their eyes went hazy.

And that’s when I finally realized why Hokkien sounds so nasally.

:: Another pointless rambling at 4:22pm ::

:: Tuesday, June 21, 2005 ::

supernova space love

This boy I know his name is Spaceboy Joe
His words depressed even poor dead Poe
The creepy dark was his private park
When it gets really quiet that's when he'd spark
He loves good music it made his heart rouse
His yuppie I-pod his music whore house
Even though we agree radio has gone to Heaven
I've caught him singing along to S Club 7

We'd talk all night and half a day
Yes we're allergic to sunshine ray
Sometimes we'd run out of things to say
It's alright baby, that’s okay
On your breath my head will lay

Spaceboy Joe lived eight hours down the road
In a quiet town where everything slowed
Sleepy dogs laze under droopy trees
Dreary weather made an old woman sneeze
One day in March I decided to visit him
Wasn't planned really, it was out of whim
So I packed my bags and jumped on a bus
"Driver, take me to Sleepytown you must!"

We had coffee beside the street
The morn was cold we needed heat
Okay I admit, we are caffeine addicts
It's alright baby, that's sweet
As long as the two of us meet

Along the busy streets we walked and talked
When a weird looking person appeared we'd gawk
Snickering to ourselves like little children
Always causing a scene, us bloody Asians
They must've wondered, probably sighed
Whilst we took photos with my Frankenclydes
Doesn’t matter, I know he loves me tonnes
'Cause he lets me steal his Oyaku Don

We dined Japanese till we were full
Yeah we really looked like two fat fools
Our chins always dribbled in drool
It's alright baby, that’s cool
Dining alone would be cruel

Spaceboy Joe had a bed of an odd length
"Don't complain or you'll sleep on the bench"
We sat on it as we watched Indians getting married
Talked of music and movies and the books we read
He made fun of my pink octopus socks
It's okay I just love listening to him talk
The sun and the moon they took turns
Till it was time for me to adjourn

We had to say our goodbyes here
No longer could I hold you near
Poor Spaceboy Joe shed a tear
It's alright baby, don't fear
We'll meet again in two years

Yea baby, it's okay, just wait
('Cause we'll meet again at a later date)
Yea baby, it's okay, just wait
('Cause the suspense will make it great)
Yea baby, it's okay, just wait
('Cause sometimes there'll be a twist of fate)
Yea baby, it's okay, just wait
Just promise me you won't be late
And I'll promise to be your space mate

:: Another pointless rambling at 3:17pm ::

:: Wednesday, June 08, 2005 ::

for you

And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky.

:: Another emo-ambient rambling at 6:15pm ::

:: Monday, June 06, 2005 ::

fucking shit, this is

Like three quarters of the world’s population, you would’ve probably watched Star Wars. Doesn’t matter which fucking episode really, because every different episode means jack shit to me because previously before last week, I have only ever watched Episode 1: A Big Steaming Pile of Horse Shit.

When Nael found out that I have only watched one episode of Star Wars, he screamed “WHAT? How can people like you EXIST?” in the most kawaii little big-eyed anime girl voice with pig-tailed long purple hair.

Good Darth. I seriously do not fucking understand what’s so great about Star Wars. The only other episode I vaguely remember is the one with midget Chewbaccas living on trees who called themselves Pukiwoks or some shit. And the only reason I vaguely remembered it, was not because I was too young, but because IT IS EASILY FORGETTABLE.

The first time I gave a blowjob, how fucking how dodgy the place was and the exact smell the bed reeked, I remember that. That cartoon with a horny little mermaid, a shallow pretty boy Prince and an absolutely annoying punk fish who can’t fucking stay away from trouble even if it was deep fried, placed on a bed of chopped cabbage and slathered in sweet and sour sauce, I remember that. Les poisson les poisson hee hee hee haw haw haw. A random scene in a Chow Sing Chi film where he positions himself over a briefcase and yells "Magic Box!" as he is hurled into the air, I fucking remember that. Siew kai yik, ngor choong yee sek, yeah I'll be singing that line right before my last breath.

Put on Napoleon Dynamite and you'll have blood stains on the carpet to wash out after you bludgeon me repeatedly after I recite the characters' lines before they can even speak it.

But for the life of me, I cannot fucking remember the names of the gay gold robot and the round Teletubby-sounding one.

(Nerd burgers, in case you’re convulsing, it's not that I am ignorant, I just DON'T FUCKING CARE. You may press Ctrl+Alt+Delete now)

So anyway, I got hauled into the cinema a week ago to watch the third episode with T3H 1337 4D\/3R7151|\|9 U|\|17:

President: SP8CE
President's Ho: P|-|UNNY_B4N4N45
Office Boy: t!m

Have no fear, random geeks out there, for 2 out of these 3 fuckers don't even know what H4XX0R means. So don’t worry, none of your base are belong to them.

And now I shall summarize the piece of shit movie into 5 points. Fret not, there won’t be any spoilers ahead, because the movie simply cannot be spoiled any more.

1. Pussy Fest

When the only physically strong character in a movie is a knee-high green thing, it's gotta be a chick flick. Oh c'mon admit it, it was the wimpiest show in a damn long time. Everyone's either whimpering or crying.

What the fuck man, if the force was strong with me, I'd be laughing myself to sleep every night and every motherfucker out there better be sobbing on an hourly basis awaiting my random acts of torture. If I had an outlet into the Dark Side, I'd fucking chop off my legs yet laugh at amputees because although I may be in the same limbless situation as they are, I can still be cool as fuck.

But no, that little girl Anakin fucking had to shed tears and whine whilst blow drying his hair. Might as well put on a tampon while you're at it, Annie. And fucking whip me up a TV dinner whilst I'm watching football, you bitch. Yeah, sure, he cried because of fear of losing Padme but seriously, do you want to go on living with this dumb hoe whose eyes well up with tears every time the word 'Love' is mentioned? Together with a pair of incestuous kids? Don't fucking forget that gaylord robot servant who will live with you too.

Obi-wan Fuck-me-in-the-ass ain't any less wimpy either. Not wanting to kill Annie the Bitch because "he's like my brother". Hello, the fucker killed all of your stupid friends and some random British speaking children, aren't you supposed to be some emotionless Jedi and kill dangerous fuckers that become a threat to everyone? Let's not forget the time he clung onto Annie the Bitch like a horny dog when he regained consciousness in the beginning of the movie.

Damn movie should've been called Star Wars Episode 3: Little Women.

2. Vitamin H² (Hot Hoe) Deficient

Natalie Portman is usually a hot hoe. I mean, watch her other movies and all you males would be wanking harder than an ugly, hairy, pot-bellied 40 year old red neck trucker named Earl who reeks of tuna and onions. But in this movie, she makes me look like a fucking supermodel.

Bad enough that in the first movie she was heavily laden with clown make-up, but in this movie it seems George Lucas ran out of budget for make-up. She looks just about as bad as your mother at home in her flowery poncho on a Sunday evening sobbing her eyes out whilst watching Oprah talk about the hardships women have to endure on a daily basis like cooking dinner whilst knitting a sweater, gossiping on the phone and yelling at the children to shut the hell up.

C'mon Annie bitch, if you really have the fucking force, random big-titted hoes will throw themselves at you. Forget that good-for-nothing hoe Padme. I didn't see her do anything good in the movie. Made Buffalo wings? No. Walk around the house naked? No. Organise a pool side sex orgy with unlimited supply of alcohol? A BIG FUCKING NO. So what the hell are you doing with the frump?

And the rest of the hoes in the movie are either some funky coloured aliens with no hair, some bad shape old hags who will only be happy when presented with stray kids of a dead mother, or a damned bling bling gold robot.

George Lucas, you dolt, everyone knows the secret to making a Hollywood blockbuster is to include hot hoes in the movie. Matrix had Monica Bellucci, that 9 hour spinal torture Lord of the Rings had Liv Tyler and even that shitty movie adaptation of an otherwise mediocre book Harry Potter had that Hermione bitch to satisfy the paedophile community.

3. Snigger Happy

Star Wars Episode 3 was the funniest show I've seen in a while. The CGI and “Special” Effects were about as mediocre as Josh Lim’s work; I nearly rolled laughing amongst the crushed popcorn and dried up ejaculate on the floor when the light sabers were pulled out. Now, a bayonet is cool, a machete is cooler and Gogo Yubari’s mace is ultra cool. But a fluorescent line of light that kills you without a drop of blood is just plain Disney: tries to have violent scenes but fails miserably thus causing said scenes to be hilarious.

And Yoda? Oh man, if a green midget with 6 strands of white hair and a Doberman's ears can't make you laugh, I don't know what will.

Funniest lines from the movie (at least what I remember):

"I promise I won’t let you die"
- Pussy wimp Annie claiming he can protect his hoe.

"My face is deformed"
- Palpatine suffering from low self esteem.

"You might need this"
- Cody passing phallic object to Obi-wan.

"…"
- Padme finally dead.

"Outer Rim"
- General Grievous likes anal.

4. Aryan Stylin'

Black motherfucker Samuel L. Jackson gets killed by two power crazy white dudes. Mexicans (the tall, brown, hairy and Gibberish-speaking wookies) get massacred by an army of white robots. Jewish dude (the bearded fucker) gets zapped by a bunch of white troopers.

The bad guys categorised as the "Dark" Side.

Tsk tsk tsk, Lucas. The Holocaust is so out of style, okay.

5. Promise Breaker

About 2 minutes into the movie, little twat Annie the Bitch says "This is where the fun begins".

Fucking liar.

A word of advice, George Lucas, the next time you want to make a movie, do this first:

1. Get a fully loaded hand gun.
2. Point gun at forehead.
3. Pull trigger.

And I will do the same the next time I so much as think of watching your movies.

:: Another pointless rambling at 1:46am::