Happy New Year Guys!
Yipppeeeeeeeee!!! (can you spot the gnome?)
It’s late in the evening, and we are knackered (and seriously drunk). Hey, what’s that on the horizon? It’s getting bigger and bigger.
Arrrgghhhh! It’s two-007. Must be some super secret agent from MI6. Run for your lives!
Lame, I know. I prefer goofy. Heh heh.
10 things I learnt about Patrick Teoh in 2006:
Patrick Teoh walks around with a toilet seat draped around his neck all the time.
Patrick Teoh is not very tall.
Patrick Teoh is the reason why my entire firm (all 1600 employees) uses Nia Mah (your mother in Cantonese) as the Preferred Swear Word these days.
If not for his deep and commanding voice, Patrick Teoh will pass as a fruit seller at the local pasar malam.
Patrick Teoh loves fluffy little bunnies and jelly filled donuts.
Patrick Teoh is the reason why the earth spins on its axis. He farts once and the energy released spins the world for 10 whole years.
Patrick Teoh pwns Mojo Jojo.
Patrick Teoh dresses up as Elvis in his spare time. He looks good in that white sparkly suit.
Patrick Teoh loves auditors and accountants. Preferably baked, with potatoes.
Patrick Teoh will become Malaysia’s next Prime Minister.
It’s Christmas eve today. Countless people around the world will be celebrating and having fun – with friends, family, loved ones.
Kids will be going to bed early, trying their hardest to fall asleep. It will be hard, so you can tell them this
malarky bedtime story.
Once upon a time, there lived a rich man. He had a wife and three daughters whom he loved very much. One cold winter however, the rich man’s wife died of an illness leaving him and his daughters distraught. Having spent all his money trying to find a cure for his wife, the family moved into a small cottage.
Over the next few years, when the rich man’s daughters have grown up, the father became even more depressed. His daughters could not marry – as he had no money for dowries.
One night after the daughters had washed their clothing, they hung their stockings over the fireplace to dry. That very same night, Saint Nicholas, knowing the despair of the father, stopped by the cottage. Peering through the window, Saint Nicholas saw that the family was fast asleep. He also noticed the stockings.
Saint Nicholas climbed up onto the roof of the cottage and took three small bags of gold from his pouch. He tossed the gold bags one by one down the chimney. Magically, the bags landed in the stockings.
When the daughters awoke the next morning, they were greeted by a surprise. They found that their stockings each contained a gold bag. There is enough gold for them to be married.
The father and the daughters lived happily ever after.
* * *
Remember: Please refrain from playing with fireworks on Christmas eve. You might hit Santa. And there won’t be any presents for you naughty boys and girls.
Merry Christmas, boys and girls!
* * *
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee… Newcastle 3 : Totingham 1
I am happy.
Christmas season. This time of year brings to mind images of snow, good ol’ Saint Nick, reindeer, hot chocolate with marshmallows, stockings, family members, fire places, turkey, crackers, fir trees, Jim Reeves crooning Christmas carols on the stereo and presents.
I have always loved Christmas.
I remember one year, my parents got Muks and I each a pair of rollerskates. We loved those skates to bits. We had wanted skates for ages, so you can imagine how chuffed we were back then.
I guess as kids, our priorities and wants were much, much simpler. All we needed were friends, some toys to play with and our parents to not whoop our asses when we f*ck up.
It is 12.30 am and I am getting ready to leave Seekarlui’s place. She has to leave for Chiang Mai at 6.30 am, so I decide to bugger off – so that I won’t get in her way. As I was about to step out of her door…
“Wait, wait… Don’t go first. I want to check if my airplane ticket is with me,” she says.
I turn around and watch her rummage through the massive pile of junk she somehow managed to stuff into her backpack.
Rummage, rummage, rummage. Out fly squawking chickens and scurrying cockroaches. The amount of stuff inside is simply amazing.
Rummage some more.
“Shit. It’s not here.” She panics a little. Seconds later, she calms down and looks at me with her puppy eyes, “Er dear, can you take me to the office? I think I left my ticket there.”
“Okie,” I say. *Shrugs*
When tragedy strikes. When the fate of human civilisation hangs in a balance. When all hope is lost. Who would you call?
Forget Superman. He’s busy gelling his hair.
Ignore Spiderman. Garfield’s just squashed him with a rolled up newspaper.
Don’t bother Bruce Willis. He died saving Earth from that itty bitty meteorite.
Forget Cicakman. He’s busy looking for his lost tail.