Say No To Prawn

I was reviewing my weblog statistics yesterday night when I stumbled across this little nugget: The post on this weblog with the most hits to date, light years ahead of all the other posts combined, is Man Boobies.

Damn. Do you want to know why or are you really that slow?

Oi! The internet is for wholesome, scholarly research, k? Don’t drag my weblog into the sinful mire of depravity – where fat, balding, middle-aged men with unusually muscular right arms hang out pretending to be sweet 17 year old Scandinavian virgins looking for a good time.

I gotta think really carefully about my post titles from now on.

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Seekarlui and I attended Old Wild Boar’s wedding dinner on Sunday. The place was nicely done up with nice flowers and food wasn’t half bad. That is, until they brought this out for dessert.

I’m not going to say anything.

Fleas Again

 

siao yue’s and lalamui’s business appears to be taking off. Their stall is open on Sundays (10 am – 6 pm).

My previous pimping posts on this can be found here and here.

Get yourself something nice and twinkly. RM10 for 5 pairs of nice earings is a bargain, no?

Go now, or I’ll spank you.

Two Dollah

You know how sometimes certain actions / things other people do will stick with you like love grass (eragrostis unioloides) for absolutely no reason at all? It’s funny, the things we remember. I can’t remember important things like anniversaries, birthdays, bank account and important phone numbers, my name, you know – stuff like that. But I CAN remember absolutely useless information – it’s like my brain is a repository for well, crap.

I remember in school, there was this huge fat kid, Jason. He was a bully, I recall, so as you can imagine, he wasn’t the most popular kid around.

Anyway, back to me story. One day during recess, as the pupils of Saint Patrick’s Secondary School were lounging near the school canteen - Jason appeared, sauntering and strutting. All of a sudden, he slipped on some loose gravel.

His feet went up. He somersaulted (well, almost) and landed heavily back first on the dirt.

GEEEDEEEBUUUUUUPPPP!!!

 

I swear to you, we all felt the ground and school buildings shake. I no bluff one.

Henceforth, from that day onward, Jason became The Gedebup. His kids will be calling him that behind his back.

Last month, Sean was happily telling us some joke, it must have been a lousy one, as I can’t recall what it was about. But I am certain that it was not about butt cracks. Anyway, at one point she did her impression of an asian hooker:

Two dollah suckee-suckee. Five dollah, very good time. *waves hand in a circle*

I dunno. Somehow this image stuck with me, no matter how hard I try to shake it off. Two days ago, I had a dream. Sean was wearing a purple dinosaur suit with green polka dots. For some strange reason, she sported a bright pink bow on her head. She opened her mouth and said, “two dollah suckee-suckee…” Wave hand some more.

I woke up. And laughed.

The moral of the story is this: Be extremely careful with your actions and words especially when you are around peculiar people like me.

Nyah.

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Have a terrific weekend people. Here’s to Newcastle winning at St James’ Park.

Good Vibrations

Maxie has these long fingers. And they vibrate. Well almost, and only his forefinger.

I kid you not. His forefinger vibrates at will like a… Erm, well, vibrator.

Maxie claims that girls love it. I have no idea why. Hmmm. He also said that long fingers are an indication of the length of *cough cough* something else.

You know what they say about men with large feet? They need big shoes la.

Anyway, Maxie’s forefinger is 84mm long. Damn. A vibrating 84mm finger. Whatever rocks your boat, then.

What I believe is this: Life is fair and that all our shortcomings are compensated. For instance, people with shorter statures are often gifted in *other* areas. You can’t have your pie and eat it, every bloody single time, innit?

In that case, I would like to state for the record that I have terrifically short and thin fingers.

So there.

It’s Me

When we think no one is watching us, our true selves come out to play.

Recently, I have been toying with the idea of starting another weblog with another nick. I realise that I have materials (all in draft) that I would rather share anonymously. Ideas that are at odds with the intentions I had when I started this site (which is to make people laugh + some bits of nonsense + very little serious mumbojumbo thrown in).

Reality is rather harsh, as it dawned on me that, I have too many commitments already. I have writing commitments to hantubola, Malaysia’s bestest and funniest football weblog. I have not posted anything of late, so I am constantly peeking out my door out of fear, in case the headhantus come along and give me an atomic wedgie. Eyeris and Vincent can be quite vicious, you know.

In addition, I am a contributor to my department’s unofficial site, shooooosh (long story this one, will bitch write about it some other time), where I do most of the photoshopping. Plus, I share a weblog, mousetailpullers with my sister, Muks.

How many weblogs does one need, anyway? It’s not money.

On top of all this, I still have a job to do. Which I enjoy tremendously (my boss may be reading this, haha).

Anyhooo, I figured, I’d just post up any strange and totally forehead-slappingly-stupid thought that comes to me. After all, the publish button is mine to click. Pfffbbrrrtttt!

I can’t always be light and easy, can I?

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To all my Indian friends, have a truly happy deepavali!