Some have too much time on their hands as a university student. I too must prove my worth that time is of no issue when you are clicking MCQ questions with a fury that could only be matched by Mike Tyson on Holyfield's ear.

Apparently I have a 14% chance of going to Hell. You gotta believe in the concept of Heaven and Hell though.

My sleeping position tells me that: You have a passion for everything - including sleeping. Outgoing and brash, you tend to still shock those who know you well. You tend to be selfish. You are the most likely type to hog the covers. You gravitate toward comfort and don't like extreme situations. [Wah lan eh, why early early don't say?]

If I was reincarnated not as a slimy gecko that you blokes would like, but as an alcoholic drink, I'd be a martini. Reasoning is: You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink.
And for you, only quality alcohol. You don't waste your time on the cheap stuff. Obviously, you're usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic. [KNN. KLKuality went out with the Pilgrims. It's Black Kat or nothing now.]

It was analyzed and decided that I act like I'm 25 years old. Hey, not too bad. Something close to accurate.

My aura is Red. Thus, You have a high level of emotion. This can mean passion, but it can also mean rage.Usually, you don't take these emotions out on others. You just use them as motivation - and it works! The purpose of your life: embracing all the wonders of the life, lots of travels, and tons of adventures. Famous reds include: Madonna, Marilyn Monroe, Jennifer Lopez. Careers for you to try: Dancer, Boxer, Surgeon [Madonna, yummmmm]

Now, I realize that some of these quizilla thingies actually do understand the make up of who you are.

You Are 64% Abnormal

You are at high risk for being a psychopath. It is very likely that you have no soul.

You are at medium risk for having a borderline personality. It is somewhat likely that you are a chaotic mess.

You are at high risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is very likely that you are in love with your own reflection.

You are at medium risk for having a social phobia. It is somewhat likely that you feel most comfortable in your mom's basement.

You are at medium risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is somewhat likely that you are addicted to hand sanitizer.

Your Lust Quotient: 61%

You are a very lustful person - and it sometimes gets the better of you!
You know how to hold back, but you hardly ever do.

Your Chances of Being a Multimillionaire: 72%

You have a good chance of being a multimillionaire. Better than most people.
You simply have a natural knack for money and the personality for success.

Your Life Is Worth...



Word of the day for the benefit of those who don't know how to use the term is "Patronize".

1. to give (a store, restaurant, hotel etc.) one's regular patronage; trade with.

2. to behave in an offensively condescending manner toward: a professor who patronizes his students.

3. to act as a patron toward (an artist, institution, etc.); support.

Alas, the argument still is rife on the pat-ronize OR peh-tronize issue. I say, fuck E lang. Not doing any of us any good also. It's much easier to defend yourself against condescension with a "KNN, never die before ah?" rather than a "You ought to stop peh-tronizing me motherfucker!".

Also, remember my dean who loves sharing engineer jokes? Well, in order to prep us for the exams he sent us another classic. I mean, where in God's blue earth does he find these nuggets of life-changing intelligence? Sorry, I almost started patronizing. But here goes:

A group of blondes in a class at the University of Southern California were given the assignment to measure the height of a flagpole. So they went out to the flagpole with ladders and tape measures, and they're falling off the ladders, dropping the tape measures - the whole thing was just a mess.

An engineering student comes along, sees what they're trying to do, walks over, pulls the flagpole out of the ground, lays it flat, measures it from end to end, and then gives the measurement to one of the blondes and walks away.

After the engineer had gone, one blonde turned to another and laughed. "Isn't that just like a dumb engineer? We're looking for the height and he gives us the length!"

After this pep talk of a joke, I have no choice but to be inspired for my examinations where I'm sure second order differential equations can be analyzed by picturing my favourite blondes.



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I am officially sequestered in solitude. So many things I'd like to write here to make up for the past three days but heck I guess I'll just go about the random off-tangentness that I'm used to. Of course, the phrase KNN will be littered throughout for the benefit of making it all the more authentic.

Exams are in 21 days. That's 3 weeks exactly. To all the mofos who have just decided to be "helpful" and put a countdown up in your MSN nicks, don't. It is really painful and misleading when your countdown isn't really my countdown. If you wanted to succeed to stress the hell outa all and sundry, you've got there. But it's not a good thing. I've ranked you next to "Wah, the paper i think I gonna fail, yet I got an A" blokes and "No la bro, I never study at all, yet I got an A" blokes.

The main draw of the weekend was a call from a not unknown semi-celebrity. Semi in the sense that it is in fact infamy not celebrity that led to the famous status, and the call to me. The next tale was supposed to be only for KLKillah consumption via a mass e-mail, but I think it's much easier to publish it for one and all.

With regards to a post over at KLKillahs called Scandal, the uproar that followed was phenomenal. It was actually the most commented on post we've ever put up. On our part of course, we took a floating rumour and the relevant sound clip that came with it and put it to everyone else's prerogative on how they'd like to view it. In fact, a kind soul also caught in the heat of excitement even transcripted the clip for us. So, though we didn't name any of the participants of said story, the general KLKlan still inferred what they wanted to and ran riot with the story. Thus, one of the affected parties, was affected enough to actually send me an e-mail wanting to speak to me about this. This e-mail alas went to the murky depths of the junk folder never to reach my eyes.

Thus, I got a call and this was what transpired. Not entirely word-for-word but I try my best to summarize:

1. That the story is baseless and untrue and that she was in fact hounded with prank callers and also her producer was quite ticked off enough to raise his concerns.

2. That her marriage was in fact a happy one, but the outbreak of this hoo haa is now putting a strain on it though she still has absolute trust from her husband.

3. That she and other party in the story were in fact still working together and it is not uncommon to see them outside together, but in no way they were intimate in nature.

4. That it looks like a well planned plot to smear hers and his reputations by an unsatisfied female. That this female actually tried to get a big enough platform to let this story let rip and finally chanced upon us and thus we were the victims of a con job.

5. That she had spoken to a coupla authorities and they all are in the loop.

6. That in no way does she blame us for anything that has happened because in the first place there are no legal implications on our part and the idea is just to catch the evil female to serve a coupla court suits on her.

So, after listening to all these sob stories I was a bit perturbed as to why I needed to hear them in the first place. So, I asked her, a question I've put to many a female along the years: "What is it that you want out of me?"

Her reply? "Delete the post". This got me very very pissed off indeed. So, I lashed out stating that in no way did she have any right whatsoever to demand a deletion of said post or what not because the site didn't belong to her. If she wants to legally find respite she may do so. And, I reiterated this nirvanic stance of Freedom of Speech. I mean seriously, today you, tomorrow one of the characters in Miss V, where will this stop? Why the fuck am I running an objective site of local Yindian happenings when I might as well subject myself to the same censored propaganda-ish style of The Straits Times, Today and other mainstream reads. Like Nal, put it, "it's like the Ministers need to tell something to the people but they don't do it straight, Today does it for them". Of course this quote was for a totally different topic, yet it applies here too.

Now, affected female gets off her agressive demeanour and gets ultra-polite. I am a sucka for politeness. I mean who doesn't like being treated like a worthy human? So, at the end of her polite version of her sob stories. I did agree to a compromise. Don't blame me, as I said, I'm a sucka. My concession thus was that the matter ends here. Which rightfully it should. Since, with every next post, people don't really care about the past ones unless they're out for a vendetta. My concession was to let the post and comments end there. That what has been said and done, remains. But any future comments on this post will be deleted.

This might look like I'm giving in to a complainant who had no right to do so in the first place, but I feel sometimes to compromise leads to more inroads. It's not like I gave up a whole lot. In fact, for the past week there have been zero new comments on that post at all. What is there to delete? I think I've negotiated something I can live with, cos I don't have to do anything at all about it.

The conversation ended in pleasantries and I told her to gimme a call if she ever has an issue again. But I was curious as to how she got my number in the first place, and even before that my e-mail address since she claimed the first time she accessed the site was just 2 days back. To this she replied, "Oh I got it from a friend who got it from someone who insisted that his name not be known". What am I, a 15 yr old school girl whom you're tryin to tackle with a phone number you ripped off your friend's phone and now are giving me lines like I used to give when I was that age? So, I asked, "Must be Mediacorp fellas right". She replied in the affirmative. I ended the conversation with "Theriyumeh, intha maathiri musang velai yellam ivanunga thaan seivaanga". [Translation: I know what these fuckers only will do this kinda sneaky things]

Thus, the story concludes. I hope you can read it here and not need to ask me to repeat it word for word again. It's getting tiring. Also, to one and all, like the Miss V run, this is totally something I'm bored with. Tada kick la! So, I'd appreciate it if you weren't an ignorant buffoon and just went over to KLKillahs to read it for yourself and not attempt to make me make you understand the intricacies of every relationship entwined in that tale.

Rounding up the rest of the weekend. I am quite happy and got a wake up call at the same time. Happy that I think I've found good company though it seemed like an unlikely source. *Grin* Wake-up call was when I've never realized why people get irritated that I joke about anything and everything. That I can never be serious about anything, though in actuality I am. Well, I've seen it first hand on what it feels like to communicate with a 24 hour joker. And it does get on your nerves. An eye opener indeed.



Praba's Dream

If you've ever wished out loud and in your heart that the one thing that would make you rest in peace if you died today, was to see me bawl in love-lost tears, you CANNOT miss this post by Praba.

Fucker had me laughing, chuckling to myself for the next few hours.

Get to it: HERE


Sparked by some random conversation with Nal in the morning, following which I dissapeared. 2 Sausage McMuffins with Egg, 2 Hashbrowns and 1 egg 2 kosong pratas can make a man very sleepy indeed, especially when he's been up all night.

I'm always curious if people actually are aware of their talents. Maybe those who are inclined towards the arts are much more aware of what they can do at a younger age than most of us. This is probably also because, most "talents" will never be brought to light without proper nurturing and immersing in that particular environment and industry.

I realize I have a talent for sales. Direct sales. Manning a booth, walking into your office to flog you some merchandise, or doing the 2 for 10 dollar pitches at every single table in the coffeeshop. You must have encountered these blokes at one point of time in your life or the other. Well, I'm quite good at that. Even the most gruff ah pek I don't mind asking in Hokkien: "Ai mai ah chek? Neng eh chup khor!" [want or not uncle? 2 for 10 bucks]. Through time and space, I realize it's the most unlikely buyers that give you the best sales because they end up buying multiple items.

Alas, I know I'm good at this. But, I totally hate it. Ask any sales personnel, even if they make 200 sales a day, every single sale gives them a shiok. This shiok is indescribable. It's more of a triumph. A "Aha! Now I've conned you mofo!" feeling we get. I used to have those, back at 13, but now at 24 or rather, I realized this at 15, I hate doing sales. Though it's something I'm good at.

So, I investigated why, or rather what monetary benefit I could use this particular phenomenon to derive. Nal suggested that maybe I'm a good sales manager, instead of a salesman. But don't sales managers sell too? And motivate? And tell you funny catch phrases like "JUICE buddy!". JUICE is a prevalent term in companies specializing in door-to-door sales, which mostly are ripped off pirated goods. JUICE = Join Us In Conning Everybody.

So, how do you motivate someone else to go out and there and do something you hate though you do it effortlessly. I kid you not. I hate it to the point of approaching the customer and then some alternate being takes over and I make the pitch. I know how to watch for "die die wont buy" customers and how to watch for "convince me more la" customers and watch for "you dont need to say a word, my money is yours" customers.

Now, I can't do front level staff and mid level staff. Could I be a trainer though? Since I know what to look out for and how to get it done? No on that count too. To be a sales trainer, almost the very first credential is your years of experience. Apparently, only when you've slogged 25-30 years up the ladder starting way below do you qualify as a proper trainer in this day and age.

Now what was I thinking? It's an unfair world after all. When you have a talent, which you don't particularly like, and yet can't benefit from it.



Halloween Advert

It's fun. Ends at 1. And then you can throw your costumes away, you wouldn't know also, that's how drunk you might be.

Tix thru me. You know how to reach me.

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Destination Hari Raya

It's amazing how Malay blokes keep their houses. All neat and nice and painted and cozy looking and just well, tiptop and beautiful. Although, I feel the main crux of this feeling lies with walls painted with yellowish tinges and yellow lighting. Yellow = Warmth. Nuff said.

Yet, upon return from my journeys today and giving the above para as a compliment to my Malay friend online, the response I got was: "Yeah, sure got nice big LCD TV right, but where is the computer in the house for their kid to do work with?". It got me thinking. Much.

I once was asked by someone who I later labelled as just another ignorant Singaporean, "Your stories about that mat in school, I didn't know universities got Malays". Wot a dumb statement to make. Malays not only outnumber the other minorities in local varsities but they also regularly score top honours by getting into Dean's Lists or accomplishing other achievements in academic and sporting competitions. I get pretty perturbed by the whole stereotypical, IF you're Malay then you gotta be poor, lazy and a druggie.

When I went visiting today, I didn't see poor. I saw economical. I didn't see lazy. I saw hardworking upkeep of their humble abodes. The drugs I did see: Fuckin mind blowing RENDANG, dum briyani, shish kebabs and juicy succulent cheeeeecken!

Stereotypes are such a pain in the arse. Especially when your performance is glowing compared to the ones who stereotype you. I think its downright daft.

Also, talking about glowing performances. I received some praise and credit today for some quality work done. This work had been sitting with me for the past 2 weeks. Yes, 2 weeks. At any given time, you feel the most shiok when you rush through something, work under intense deadline pressure and deliver the goods. I know it's wrong to work this way. But heck, I love the adrenaline rush. Watching the computer time changing from 1 to 2 to 5 am and then hitting the "send" button on my e-mail.

Any Ajax fans in the house? My cousin wants to flog off his Ajax Original 2006/07 Home Jersey for around $70. It cost him $99 at the shop but he decided to dump it and lust after a Man Utd Jersey instead. What can I say, with Diwali ang-pows comparative purchasing power.

And just an observation on artistic license and science:

Bengal Tigers do NOT pounce about in the snow. And I doubt you'd find two hunting the same prey.

Ranga. Freak of nature. My best friend's dog. Sold to us as a Jack Russell. Grew to gigantic proportions due to his pariah genes. Growth could also be because he's a briyani gourmet. He'll play punk with you if he eats anything else. Serves as a punching bag when needed. When he was young, he tried to hump us all. Now, he just hangs around waiting to be fed. The terror of the neighbourhood. When he goes down to pee, the rest of the puny, pure breeds scurry home fast. Yet, for all his beastliness and his Anjadi name, he wears a 50 cent red pottu Bathrakali style. Androgyny rules. Period.




This is my ode to a boy named Sheen [to hide his true identity]. When RT used to be relief teaching back at an ex-AMK now Hougang secondary school, she met her fair share of mischievous, downright criminalistic, very very cute and even lovelorn kids.

Everyday, she'd call me after school to tell me about what pranks the blokes pulled on that particular day. Day after day, the conversation leaned on only one particular young boy. A boy filled with such angst, I was all for getting to know him and moulding him into the world's best assassin.

This is an excerpt from one of the fine pieces of work this champion of a boy has handed up to Teacher RT:



Eppy Deeps

I'm back after a short hiatus. It's just. Can't keep my big gab shut for long. I'm indian. We'd die if we couldn't speak out loud.

Wasn't it just a hectic weekend then? Probably was for you guys but I preferred that nice 4 by 4 thing called the bed. In fact, I only did 2 houses this year. My granny's and RT's. Both experiences by itself. Actually, about the only thing that has the greatest impact each year on my Deepavali is the gambling involved. Impact because it impacts my wallet more than any other aspect of my life. I've never really done justice to the whole whitewashed bleach-cleansed "right" way of celebrating a festival, that is to visit, spread the cheer, eat your goodies, watch your TV and then leave looking for the next victim.

I think any occasion that has gone on around me, usually involves two major portions, the alcohol and the gambling. I am a recovering gambling addict as it is. I had to take a huge loan from my mum once to cover my debts [If debts I am responsible for is 10% of the total, then debts motherfuckers who bet through me and fled would be the remaining 90%] and due to that watching EPL and Champions League games is so irritating to me now. Watching these blokes score their goals and grating your fingernails on the chalkboard is all the same now. It's just not so appealing after all when you don't have 2 big ones on the game and are furiously egging your favourites on. Instead I've since turned my attention to the less addictive - more habitual state lottery games like 4D and the Big Sweep. I figure on a mathematical sense, the odds definitely are better.

If you bet $100 with a bookie, you win about $90 give or take. With Singapore Pools, depending on price odds, you could walk away 2-3 times your stake richer. With 4D, it's more of a bet one to get 250 odds give or take. With the Big Sweep, it's put down $3 which could have been your lunch money and walk away a millionaire. The payout compared to the stake. What you blokes dabbling in the stock market might appreciate as a price to earnings ratio. Learn this term, even Buffet looks at these stats before making his kill in the markets.

So, yes, I went over to my granny's and since we're such a good clean-cut family, there was no gambling table set up, a la Chinese New Year mahjong marathons. I had to settle for Uno. I didn't start the game, just happened to stumble upon it. It has been quite a while since I've caressed these cards, a game that is I believe a permanent marker in every childhood of my age group. So, I saw 3 cousins and an aunt attempting to play this game and I sat with the one who had the largest number of cards left and "offered" to play her hand for her and make her win. It wasn't about 5 minutes into my gameplay that I enquired over a few technicalities and was brought back to reality by a 15 yr old cousin:

S: anneh, how can you not know this?
Me: [thinking he was going to be condescending] You think every game I know the rules is it, just ask only right, want to tell means tell, if not shut up.
S: Nooooo. You know where I learnt to play Uno, I mean who taught me?
Me: Who?
S: Your house la. You teach me the rules, the strategies, the cheating methods, every different way to play the game!
Me: Urmz, is it? Oh ya. Those days la.

A snap back to a coupla years. Years fly by fast I realize. Also a snap back to primary school when Uno was not banned in school, but poker cards were. So, we devised how to gamble with Uno cards. And when that got found out, we used poker cards that were so small, they were easily hidden in pencil boxes and the girls' purses. We also used the black and white Reversi magnetic chips to stake our bets. Black was 20 cents and white was 50 cents. Even that got found out, because we had a few class snitches who thought this was the way to a better PSLE grade. Anyhow, from black/white reversi we proceeded on to using Mentos sweets to place our bets so the evidence can be quickly chewed and consumed.

From then, the culture had set. Behind the tuckshop, under the mango tree, even our school terrapin pond were good places to hide our poker cards so we could resume sessions. On some marathon sessions, because the bell rang before we could wrap up the game, everyone took his and her cards home so we could resume the very next day. Of course, when I got back, immediately I got on the phone to see who could give me the best trade off. Quite surprised it actually never occurred to them, that when play resumed in the morning during recess, I and another good pal always sweeped them clean.

This is also why board games are seldom played in my house. We play till violence ensues, every single time. Without fail. With Cluedo, I'd have stole a peek before the cards even went into the envelope. With Risk, I make ghost armies appear by dropping them skillfully with my left hand when my right was rolling the dice. With Carrom, just a twitch of the head by one of my brothers and one of my seeds conveniently dissapears. Any game you have, I'll find a way to get ahead. Not to be done out of the home though, I've personally seen a card cheat's last finger getting sliced off and it has definitely taught me not to play punk in the streets. But back to Uno now, and my personal guide to cheating:

1. A 6 is also a 9 - Use this optical illusion well but don't be a dumb fuck and throw just 2 cards down expecting people not to spot the difference. Do it with 3-4 cards and "seal" the offending card in an appropriate angle, letting the sides stick out but not the number.

2. Cooperation - The game is all about who loses all their cards first. When playing Daidee we call it guarding, i.e. if the next bloke is on his last card the previous bloke is duty bound to keep throwin his highest valued card to "block" his swift exit from the game. Same here. If some dude happens to just be racing away to the finish line, "block" him by instructing the bloke before him to "draw two" or "draw four" him. Provide good backup, by throwing him the correct colour for him to do so.

3. Sneaky Eyes - Make sure you know who is carrying what at all times. This aint a professional poker game so no one's gonna maintain poker faced expressions and hold their cards to their chest. Wait for the opportune moment and steal a peek. When the person is about to win, inform the rest on the colour and number of his last card so they won't give him the opportunity to. For all you know, you could win just by them sabotaging his win process.

4. Hide the cards - Simply put. In an Uno deck there are 108 cards. Unless you play with highly anal retentive personnel, simply placing 2 cards which have no part in your gameplay in your pockets aint gonna make a big difference. Make up for the deficit by offering to shuffle the deck after your game.

5. Sleight of Hand - This is extremely tricky and should only be attempted if you are darn sure you know what to do. This is the kind of thing that can make or break, not your game but YOU. See, the deck is often piled sky high with previous cards that were thrown. Somewhere in there, there is a draw four / wild / draw two card lurking. With some skillful sleight of hand, that particular card can be retrieved for your future usage by proper distraction. This method is best used when there was a rowdy blood thirsty battle of "draw two"s. You know... The battles where it seems everyone has 2-3 power cards and everyone is so eager NOT to be the guy who draws 40 as a penalty.

Continuing on, this Deepavali we gambled too at my place. Twas on the eve and apart from me, the rest were all on gin and juice. It seems like such a bad thing to do, when you gamble with alcohol around. Money is such an evil master sometimes. And worse when you play with friends. Every year what I'd like to do is use the money earned to just buy more food / beer whatever is on the table.

This year, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to the two blokes who just happened to pop by and join in. Without you, our allowances for the next week wouldnt have materialized. Yet, it's not your fault to know that we used to be actually roving card players, plunging into any funeral, wedding or function at the void decks, honing ourselves to play as a team. What you also didn't know was, although we played fair and didn't cheat at all, it was not an "every man for himself" game but a "let's bankrupt the newbies" game. You should have seen the signs when I allowed "credit" during my turn as the dealer.

Which brings me to my next gambling adage: "Never lust for a game, you'll definitely lose". If you offer someone an informal bet on a certain soccer game, and that person says "nah" don't force your way through till he agrees. I 100% confirm chop you will lose that one. It's just like that with luck and fate innit? Don't lust. It's one of the 7 deadly sins anyhow.




Murphy's Law: If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.

My Law: With me, anything and everything goes wrong. Just give it the opportunity to.

I'm solid proof that alcohol brings out the dumb fuck in me. I'm truly sorry. I have a penchant for stupidity. It's amazing how stupid I can get.


German Sex Ed

Germany. Ah, the sweet taste of draft beer and bratwursts. It's Oktoberfest season by the ways and of course, none of us managed to make our customary trip down to get drunk and puke out sausage skins. Germany, land of the sexually liberated. Wait now was that Holland? But heck it, we've seen enough German S & M porn to know they know their stuff.

It seems, they've been taught young on how nature works. An excerpt from a German children's book:

But yet, there remain some spoilers. A German couple were brought up so strictly in a "sex is a bad word" Christian environment, they never knew what else a dick and vagina could be up to. They instead really believed in the stork delivering their new born infant and just lay in bed together, later wondering why the baby hadn't arrived. Full story HERE.


Senior Bender

A 98 year old woman wrote this to her bank. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three 'nanoseconds' must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the
automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has.. caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.

I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you
must nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:

1-- To make an appointment to see me.
2-- To query a missing payment.
3-- To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4-- To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5-- To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6-- To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7-- To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.)
8-- To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7
9-- To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client

Mel, Nal and Rita, this is for you. Hope you like it. Have a great day at work ladies!


P-Man Update 2

P-Man has come up with a new pattern. Now, he reads Staff-In-Confidence e-mails while scouting about for his next job. Read about it HERE or use the link on the sidebar.


I am very inspired by my Saturday. I have to share this. A tale of whatever can go wrong, does. And a few good parts.

It was in the afternoon that I woke. And I proceed to answer missed calls and unanswered smses that have piled up. Upon answering one of them I get a sad Bhai boy on the line. Sad boy claims it's his birthday when the clock strikes 12 and all of his 15 friends have cancelled on him throughout the day. So, he asked me if I'm out tonight. I replied in the negative, stating I had exams coming up and I'm broke. But upon hearing his sad tale all I could do was "It's your birthday machi. Fuck it. Let's do it!"

Best part? My mum was watching on as I first went from negative to positive. Her expression was priceless. Another one bites the dust. Son KLKonfirm not home till the sun rises again. Of course I made sure to ask what kinda drinking he wanted to do. The 12, 4, 6 or 12 next day programme. He replied 6. I said on.

This was followed by a coupla hours of bumming. Just bumming. Bumming on a Saturday is so fruitful. Then I upped and changed and left for Tekka to go see our rapturous rhymer Praba. And then onto Utsav Parade. The Indian Chingay. Packed like hell. We got into the restricted staging sections, thanks PJ, and had loads of photos done. Material for our next piece. The parade was quite fun, not that we watched much. Nothing like meeting your ex-girlfriend's mum decked out in her customary diamonds in Tekka too.

Now the night starts proper. After leaving to Boat Quay and meeting sad Bhai boy, we knocked back a coupla whiskey on the rocks and had a filling Mac Dees dinner. So, I told him. Why waste money hitting the big joints like MOS. Just follow me, I'll take you to a place where it's everyone's birthday everyday. At least that's the way we drink like. So, strolling along towards the 2nd joint. Our friend gets a call, from a chick, saying she's waiting outside MOS. Haiz. Plan failed. Here I thought I can accomplish 2 things at once, celebrate this bloke's birthday AND see my usual kakis all at the same place. So, he hopped in the cab and left and I promised to see him later.

Phone running on low batt. I left to see my fellas. Now the stout freeflow starts. And when it does, it seldom ends. But the stories thrown on the table were quite happening this night. Story of the day was about one of the guys allegedly raping some other girl. Or at least that's what she claims. After ascertaining the identity of the girl and confirming that mass orgies even are nothing new to her, we kinda let the matter lie. Then the cops came. Yes, I understand that 20 ethnic Singaporeans drinking stout is such a rarity that we must get screened. Unable to answer us why screen us? And not the other ethnic groups surrounding us? Later an educated bloke in the group, who is actually the son of a politician questioned the very very pretty policewoman if they were targetting us cos we're the minority. Heated argument aside. IT was a fine day for publicity as all of Circular Road craned to see who the MIB had netted for the day. And off we went to the next joint.

The 2nd joint. My interest is JUST to drink. Drink and play my pool. And drink. To drink, I drink. I drink to drink. You get the picture. However, I saw a select group that I recognized. Some seniors from my school who had already graduated. Customary hellos and all and that was done. Halfway through, suddenly there was a mass exodus of my mates. So some rival group happened to show their face and now it was either a showdown or a drink-down. Wanting to be a good boy as I've enough trouble with the law already, I decided to stay behind and act blur. Huh? All of them dissapeared? Why? Where? Alamak. KNN never tell me. Oh well. This jug pretty kuat ah?

And then proceedings drew to a close. The time was 3. I stepped out and was accosted by one of the senior blokes who insisted in asking me who this NTU ******* was. I asked why. He went oh, if you introduce yourself or declare yourself with a first name like that, what am I to think, that there's a new gang in town and it's called NTU? I was like, hmmm, why even think that. I'm from AJC. Some know me as AJ Shanker ma. Still, after many whiskeys and gin n limes and vodka red bulls, logic is kinda thrown out of the window.

The cause of the KLKonfusion? An over exaggerating boy. Who decided that since he was the only one who was privy to a tele-conversation he had with another bloke, that anything he says will be accepted as the holy truth. I had already done my assessment and knew that what he said was said couldn't be said cos the other bloke just wouldn't say it. You geddit? You don't need to.

So, that's commotion number 3 for the night. Stay with me. Keep count. Cops, exodus and this makes 3. Number 4 was when the same senior bloke says he tried calling some chick for his money back and her bfren verbally abused him and that one of the blokes in the club looked like that boy. Underline the word "like". Haiz. Commotion 4 ought to have been finished fairly quick if I was in charge. Something like this:

Eh are you so and so?
No I'm not.
Oh, okie. Thanks. Salah orang la. Paiseh ah.

But what did happen was this:

Eh you are that boy right!
No, I'm not.
Don't lie to me.
I really am not. What is it that you want?
I know you are la. Show me your handphone received calls and prove you're not?
Fuck you understand.
Oh. You speak this way. NNB I should smack you.

Enter whole jing jang. My guesstimate is 10 per side. And me slowly taking a step back. When in doubt, hug a tree. Now there are 3-4 parallel dialogues. All talking about the same issue, all attempting to broker the peace. But when 2 out of 3 quieten down, the 3rd goes haywire. And so it continued. I was amazed that there were no cops. Oh of course, the bouncers were ready to get in with some swinging. When you know people don't mind drawing some blood cos they're entitled to, use the cliche phrase. "No problem la bro. All adik bradik. [brothers]".

From then on, it was about following a few obviously too drunk people to a KLKlub full of too drunk people. You smell disaster? The commotion is at no. 4 as of now. So, in quick succession once the bottle was opened at the club, drinks were downed and eyes were roving for a quick fight. Sensing danger again, I hugged the pool table. And of course as a substitute tree, I hugged a pillar next to it. Commotion numbers 5, 6 and 7 started and ended fairly quickly. In quick succession, involving me even.

That was number 7. See, mofo who started no. 6 decided that he should pick trouble with me cos I was the relative unknown to him and who better to attempt to hammer but me. Dude! 13 years I've been drinking. Do you seriously think that me travelling solo is such a big problem or a weakness? Best part bout commotion number 7 was that it got solved, hands shaken and then re started by same mofo repeatedly pointing in my face and asking who's that bloke who's that bloke, why's he looking at me funny. KNNBCCB. Cheesed off. Yet this is not the time for me to go cave-man.

The club closed and we all left. I was in two minds. Stil follow these drunkards or return home like a drunkard. We stopped at the 7-11 and lo and behold. Commotion number 8. Wow whee! This time it was more entertaining cos the coppers were surrouding the group and waiting to pounce at the smell of a teeny weeny bit of violence. I was not about to count bars tonight. A quick detaching walk and I reached a cop. He asked me what the fuck I was doing. I replied just walking to get a cab when I chanced upon my friends. He asked what I was doing in life. I said I was in Uni. And the cop tells me : "Ok. Just stand here with me. Don't go to that side and get into trouble." Wah! Cops. Your best friends and your worst enemies.

Commotion number 9 didn't involve us directly. It was about where to go to eat supper. As everyone hopped into a cab and took their leave. I on the advise of someone, left too, for home. There was a commotion number 10 in the middle of it all, but it is too sensitive to write about.

There you have it, a fated commotion filled Saturday. One I wish never happened. And one I have made some vows over. There are just some people I will not be drinking with anytime soon. Sobriety is of much value.



The week is like travelling on fast forward. If not, for my trusty wall calendar. Yes, I made my own to mark the days till exams. Apparently, I was supposed to fill up what to study on what days, but that has gone with the wind. The only thing useful I do with it is crossing the days religiously. I don't know, I like crossing things out.

CV's brother got in touch with me on MSN through his schoolmate who knew how to reach me through here or KLKillahs. He has asked graciously for me to help inform all NTU mates that CV has an online obituary site set up where friends can pen their tribute to him and even make a donation through the means there.

You can access the Cheeky Vicky's online obituary page HERE. Prayer arrangments are also listed on one of the tabs. His Karumathi Pooja is tonight at his place, whereas the Athma Shanthi Pooja at Manmatha Temple is tomorrow as I've blogged before.

As part of the KLKillah Projects, we aim to provide annathaanam to the kids at Ramakrishnan Mission Boys' Home and have been selling 2 decorative Ganesha plates to garner funding. You can view the plates here with a writeup of how the Project is gonna be run, HERE.

I've tried to do my utmost best as like the rest of the KLKillahs and approached almost all the Indians I know on my contact list. But some responses were classic and I definitely need you to hear them:

1. Urmz, I'm not into God things. [Right, like I asked you to garland it with flowers and light a coupla incense sticks and pray to a PLATE]

2. My father is against charity. [Many people are against many things. Poverty, stupidity, gluttony to name a few. But this was a first for me.]

3. If you're doing this for charity, where's your pass? [And here I thought good hearts were all you needed]

4. How do I know it's really going to charity? [I did want to take your particulars so we can inform you but you believe that even an email address was TOO probing. What can I say, we'll document it on KLKillahs for all to see. Which other blog do you see doing this kinda thang anyway?]

5. Ok, so I get one right. Then, you say you gimme the next one at a discount? So, urmz why can't the first one AND the second one be at a discount? [See, mofo, if you had passed primary school mathematics you would have realized that when you get a disc on the 2nd it spreads across the board to the first. AAAARGH!]

I think I was much better off selling roll-on perfume sticks [fake tho] along Orchard Emerald. At least you can net telephone numbers offa them.


Silendru Oru Kaathal

I've just finished watching Silendru Oru Kaathal. This is after penning the 100th post for KLKillahs. Yes, KLKillahs is 100 posts old and the celebratory post is on the site, use the big ass centenary button to reach the joint.

To all my pals who have since linked KLKillahs on their blogs, do download the centenary desktop wallpaper [both versions] and either button which you like and continue your support for my grip-you-by-the-balls and slap-you-on-the-head Indian satire movement.

I've also finished discussing a small mini project with the AVB and I hope that will be out soon. I have also given school a miss the whole week. Thank god for that. Apparently it's online learning week, where all lectures are E-lectures. Right. This is to prepare for an event when the school becomes unusable and all students gotta learn from home. Like an epidemic or something.

I think the school knows it's a very good target for a possible terrorist attack because it's in the middle of nowhere, so if you shower us with napalm, we'll run 2 km before reaching another civilized population and we can easily bury that part of Tuas and claim it never existed. Or simply blame the SAF's live firing exercises for misfiring and blowing up the campus and divert attention from the whole terrorist angle. Whatever works. As long school remains closed.

Well back to the movie. The main draw was that the hero and heroine are now a couple in reality. But of course, after they got hitched, the husband apparently with precision clockwork timing informed the press that his wife will no longer be acting. Their decision to get hitched now also had film distributors in an uproar cos a recent survey done on Tamil Nadu blokes said 72% didn't wanna catch a flick where a married woman in reality plays a single broad on the silver screen.

So, back to the movie. Surya has 2 loves. The second we realize only 1.5 hours into the movie. The whole first CD had me commenting that it was a very well taken flick. Good comedy, good timing, good shots and good editing. But, there always is just one spoiler. And for me, it occurred At 05:10 into the 2nd CD.

His First Lau, Bhumika

His Second Lau, Jyothika

Background: Surya attempts to save Bhumika from the path of a speeding goods lorry. He pulls her outa the way but tears her clothes in doing so. Public has a good view of what little skin she shows. Fast forward to a scene shot in a canteen.

Surya: I'm very sorry. I didn't expect that to happen. I just wanted to help. I feel so stupid. I know you must be angry with me. blah blah blah... [she cuts him off halfway]

Bhumika: Yes, I'm angry with you. The body that only you were supposed to see, why did you let the world see it too?


Needless to say. I clicked "Pause". Went for a smoke. Cleared my brain. And have yet to get back to the movie. Instead I am typing this now, and I shall go to bed.




This is a formal announcement that I have been recruited into the elite AVB. You, the reader however can dream on about being on their panel because Rule No. 1 of Fight Club is "You don't talk about Fight Club".

My first post has already been launched and it's the expose of WUMmy's assault at Hougang. A teary story of a poor 25 year old being the victim of street violence and blog rivalry. Reach post HERE.

The AVB has recently in the same vein of "Hackers" and "Fight Club" successfully planned and executed Project Maelstrom. On 7th October 2006, 3:30 AM after a Friday night out at the clubs, revellers noticed a queer sight on the CBD horizon. It was all vintage AVB. Nuff said. View the handiwork.

The AVB prides itself on being anything that is not mainstream. Expect even further from the Maelstrom Maestros.

The AVB can be reached through HERE and their permanent link on my sidebar. I'll leave you with one of my core influences, Tyler Durden.

God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.

We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives.

We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.



After walking to the kitchen and realizing my wrists feel sore enough NOT to twist open the coffee powder lid and make myself a cuppa, I proceed to my youngest.

Me: Make me a coffee lei. You know when you make it, it tastes lagi delicious right?
He: Is it? I studying la tomorrow got exams.
Me: Make la. So simple only. Please?
He: Hmmm. [wakes up walks to the door] you wait right there I got something interesting to show you.
Me: What?

Door gets promptly slammed and locked. I make my own coffee this time round. But you can't con me with the same trick twice mofo! I ask through the door:

Me: Where's amma?
He: Dental?
HE: Deeeeeeentttttaaaaaaaaaaal.
Me: Too much ah you, say amma is a Mental.

No prizes for guessing what happened when mummy dearest reached home. *Grin*

Many hours back in the afternoon:

Vik: Dey, I'm running a another hoax [gives details]
Me: Uh huh, but sounds funny lei. You sure YOU not the butt of this hoax?
Vik: Anyway you sound one kind.
Me: Stomach pain again la. Like something kicking from inside. I think I'm impregnated with the child of Satan, the 666.
Vik: Must be Selven la inside then.
Me: Yeah boy, sekali born got leather wristband, NIN tee shirt and all.
Vik: Yeah, Child of Satan WITH ACCESSORIES!
Me: Hahahahahahahhahaa. [In my thoughts: You're so dead mofo, I'm a gonna blog this]


Buy It!

Fancy a little deco around the house for Diwali or want to impress upon your friends that you have good taste when you go a visiting?

For full details. click HERE. Profits will be distributed to a charitable cause in line with Deepavalli and Hari Raya season, a new KLKillah intiative.

From good Gods to good music and booze. Aresha is organizing a fabulous party, bringing in foreign talent just as the Gahmen asked us to.

London Elektricity scoops “Best Podcast” award!
With a lineup of winners including Lily Allen, Thom Yorke, Lemarr and Peter Gabriel, the BT Yahoo 2006 Digital Music Awards at London’s Roundhouse was a star studded event. Hospital’s own Tony Colman stepped up in style to receive the award for best podcast from Radio One’s Edith Bowman. Tony was keen to claim this as a victory for the whole of drum & bass in his reception speech - bigging up the worldwide D&B community as being one of the first to embrace new technology and namechecking Dogs on Acid, Drum & Bass Arena, Knowledge & ATM.
As one of the only independents to win an award, todays Guardian newspaper celebrates the victory in their feature on the DMAs, citing “The awards also reflected the way the web is leveling the playing field. The prize for best podcast went not to Radio One or another media giant but to London Elektricity”
The London Elektricity podcast has become something of a cult classic with 10,000s of subscribers tuning in to hear not only the hottest D&B tunes, but Tony’s musings (and indeed rantings) on everything from American foreign policy to High Contrast’s diet.
Listen to the podcast: HERE. You will need ITunes for this.

This event is proudly organized and supported by the following entities: Hospital Records UK , The Sunday Shop , TherapyAsia , Barbaablackchic , ExitMusik [Click individual names for webbies]

Presale Tix are at $22 and at $35 with goodie bag. Contents of the goodie bag:

All ticket enquiries please contact myself at ahneh69@gmail.com or text me at 91691476. Freelance event promoters are also free to contact me with regards to promoting the event for remuneration. Use official event website to spread the word. HERE.

4th November 2006. We'll be there. Will you?

P.S. Do remember to pick a KLKuarrel with the door-bitch aka Aresha. But switch on your radar first to avoid the burly bouncers.


Ah, apart from food poisoning and the normal the gahmen did this and the gahmen did that, you guys know I love it when NTU lands in the papers. My take on the latest headline news.

The Nanyang Technological University (NTU) has appointed a Provost for the first time to deal with the demands of corporatisation.

With corporatisation this year, NTU has many plans in store.

It wants to look at investments, raise more funds, collaborate with more universities, and at the same time, look at the integration of multi-disciplinary research, and produce more cutting-edge research work.
So, a Provost has been appointed to help the NTU President achieve these aims.

Professor Bertil Andersson is the Chief Executive of the European Science Foundation and a Trustee of the Nobel Foundation. He used to be the Chairman of the Nobel Committee for Chemistry. NTU believes that with Professor Andersson's appointment, there will be greater interaction between the university and research institutions in Europe.

Professor Andersson said, "Most Nobel prizes for basic science are actually (from) engineering universities....so therefore I think for the future, engineering universities (should) put a lot of emphasis on science."I think maybe the investments that are done here in Singapore may change the winds here and create the foundation...say in 15 or 20 years. Yes, Singapore will get a Nobel Prize, I think that is very realistic.

"Professor Andersson has also been tasked with seeking about a hundred new high-calibre faculty members for the university every year. The university says the faculty size needs to increase as more research is being done, and also because the student population is expected to grow to 21,000 by 2010. The current student population is about 18 000.

650 international candidates were considered for the new position of the Provost.

NTU President Dr Su Guaning said the structure of having a Provost and President follows the best practices of some of the top universities in the United States. NTU currently operates on the structure of having a President and Deputy President where the Deputy President is in charge of undergraduate education.

The new Provost will be undertaking more responsibilities, comparable to the duties of the University's President.

Professor Andersson will start work on April 1 next year.

Now, if you're a blue blooded hot headed Singaporean male who has traversed through the tribulations of National Service you would know there is one group of people you'd never want on your wrong side. Everything we take as given and a common KLKrime, these blokes will put you in deep shiet for it.

These include, smoking in uniform, bringing in a device that has photographic capability, storing contraband amongst your personal effects and other normal mischief that 18 year olds get up to. Of course, I've never been guilty of any of these misdemeanours. NOT!

They are the Provost. In the first place, this is a case of "oops, I think we named them wrongly". Provosts by definition are either a varsity administrator of the highest rank, the chief magistrate in certain Scottish cities and the keeper of a prison. What this has to do with unleashing a coupla youths and empowering them with policing powers is really beyond me. But yes, we would rather keep away from the Provost and hope they keep away from us too.

Back to NTU though, apparently we need to go produce a Nobel Prize winner just to validate our existence in this ulu jungle of a campus we're situated at. Come on la, first things first, extend the goddamn MRT from Boon Lay to school, later can use my rise in school fees to finance a Swede.

And we have 18,000 students in school? Zhun boh! And not even a handful of fit women come our way each day? What are the odds of that? And you service 18,000 students day in day out with just 2 bus services running from the nearest bus interchange? And the friggin bus bay is like the furthest away from the MRT station, practically placing it smack in the midpoint between here and Melbourne? And to add to that, you have such great plans about making a number one world class varsity out of this school when you come up with suka-suka academic programmes and change it year in year out cos the guinea pigs ended up dying? And you didn't do nothing to give the guineas a new cage to go breed in? Go FUCK YOURSELF!

Also, how appropriate. We make an April Fool outa the man who's gonna occupy the top position in the school hierarchy. What might I be doing next year on April 1? Probably at home, skipping school as usual. You blokes can enjoy the fanfare and welcoming festivities.

However as a good and loyal NTU student, I'd like to extend my warmest welcomes to Mr. Anderson. But not if my friends have anything to say about it.

You hear that Mr. Anderson?... That is the sound of inevitability... It is the sound of your death... Goodbye, Mr. Anderson...

Mr. Anderson... you disappoint me.

Tell me, Mr. Anderson... what good is a phone call... if you're unable to speak?

You have a problem with authority, Mr. Anderson. You believe you are special, that somehow the rules do not apply to you. Obviously, you are mistaken.

I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Mr. Anderson.

As you can see, we've had our eye on you for some time now, Mr. Anderson.

I want what you want... Yes. That's it, Mr. Anderson. Look past the flesh. Look through the soft gelatin of these dull cow eyes and see your enemy!

Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more that your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Can you feel it Mr. Anderson? Closing in on you? Oh I can, I really should thank you after all. It was, after all, it was your life that taught me the purpose of all life. Purpose of life is to end.

Ah, Mr. Anderson, I see you are as predictable in this world as you are in the other.

I killed you, Mr. Anderson. I watched you die.... with some satisfaction, I might add. Then something happened- something I thought would be impossible, but it happened anyway. You destroyed me, Mr. Anderson. Afterwards, I was aware of the rules. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I didn't. I was compelled to stay- compelled to disobey. And right now, here I stand because of you, Mr. Anderson. Because of you, I'm no longer an Agent of this system. Because of you, I'm unplugged. A new man, sort of speak- like you. Apparently free.


Stevie and CV

As you might know, a schoolmate of ours, Cheeky Vicky passed on tragically recently. As per Hindu tradition, prayers to aid him on his safe passage to God's eternal garden will be conducted at Sri Manmatha Temple at Kallang Gas Works on the 15th of this month at 7.30 pm.

The nearest MRT is Lavender but you gotta down walk a bit. Otherwise, take buses 2, 7, 12, 13, 32, 33, 51, 63, 80, 100, 197 to reach the place.

And since we're on the same vein, showing some of the ways cartoonists around the world honoured the passing of Steve Irwin:


Glossary - Violence

From time to time, I understand that some of what I spew, none of you understand. At least those who are not in the inside loop. Well, so I need to establish a glossary now.

The word for the day is VIOLENCE.
Aaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaah...

Now, apart from its actual definition, how do you use this term in day-to-day Ah Neh speak? Simple. View these following examples.

When eating a particularly chilli hot mee goreng:
You say: Anneh! Your mee goreng fuckin violence man!

When viewing a very exhorbitantly priced consumer item:
You say: Wah. This price a bit violence ah?

When you hear a story that is really beyond belief:
You say: Serious?!!? Violence also the fella.

When you DO view violence in reality:
You say: Machi, ponna violence dei that night.

When Prethika tells you the PSI is 143 and she says "Madness!":
You say: Hmm. Violence ah!

Basically, Violence is used whenever you need to make an exclamation and you'd rather not use that oh-so-versatile term, Fuck. Also use the term when someone other than yourself in the group KNOWS how to use the term too, so it can maintained as an inside joke.

Geddit? Now you got it. I hope. Or this is pretty violence too.



It's a round up of the weekend post. Here are some important things I learnt this week:

1. Don't buy the largest popcorn available unless you know for sure you're gonna finish it. Always check with the others if they are gonna dig in too.

2. Little Miss Sunshine is a movie made for paedophiles. If you thought it was a heart warming comedy about the trials and tribulations of an American family trying to satisfy the goals of their young daughter, think again. Wait for the climax. If anything, what the movie doesn't deliver in the last 1 hr 20 mins, it makes up for it by making you double to the floor in laughter in the last ten. Unless you're a paedophile of course. Then, you'd be busy bent double working on your wank.

3. Sometimes hot pop songs we hear are actually carrying subliminal double meanings with them. And you don't gotta even play them backwards like the alleged Satanic cult groups.

Logical Ones: TLC - Don't go chasing waterfalls, if you don't want the water to fall on you.

Mispronounced Ones: Eminem - I can be your Subramaniam, I can be your Subramaniam.. your Subramaniam.. your Subramaniam.

Misunderstood Ones: Macy Gray - I try to say goodbye and I choke (on ma vomit), try to walk away and I stumble (cos I'm high). This aint a farewell song, it's a song about a KLK who leaves the KLKlub at 6 am and is drunk dialling his girlfriend.

What is the double meaning you ask? Well, they're all Yindian. Yes, TLC, Eminem and Macy Gray. All Yindian. Goodness gracious me!

4. You tend to sometimes revel in the magnanimity of God when he awards testicles to people who obviously don't know what to do with them.

5. Always read what you typed twice before hitting the "enter" key. Not everyone is in touch with 21st century culture like you. Scenario:

Me: Hey, how're you doing?
She: Feeling sick. And you?
Me: Same, recuperating, just recovered from food poisoning.
She: Ah.
Me: Not off to the temple today? Going for thimathi on Monday?
She: Nah, sick plus I have work on Monday.
Me: Ah, where's your sis, long time never see her. [I knew her sis first. She's just an acquaintance]
She: She aint in.
Me: Oh, so is there an open house for Deepavalli this year at your place?
She: Well, every year only my friends come over. So, this year I think I'll do the cooking and give my mum a break.
Me: Uh huh, how come your sister's friends don't come over?
She: She lazy la to invite and entertain all.
Me: Is it? She got tons of friends what. She's pretty popular in camp. This year I think she will have tons of people to invite.
She: What do you mean by that? Saying she's popular and all. I know my sister very well and I don't like the tone you're taking.
Me: Huh? WTF? No offence she's a friend to me too. I didn't mean it in THAT way, whatever you think it is.
She: Well, if you keep saying it, people wil get the wrong impression.
Me: *Dumbfounded* Ok gtg, byeeeeeeeeeee.

This I totally don't understand. Since when does saying someone is popular imply they are loose. Unless you do it with a very visible smirk on the face of cos. Is it KLKulture? Is this just an Yindian thing. That no one wants a female they know to be known as "popular" cos immediately that places her in the ranks of the "village bicycle" and the "hostel whore"? Or is this a general Asian thing? Or is this a Singaporean thing?

Comments please. [Do write them in the comments section. Leave the tagboard for frivolous "lau" titter tatter.]


Late Addition: Sash found this happening clip of the movie. One of the best scenes no doubt.



Have you ever met a taxi driver who was an astrologer? I've met tons. But today's one was just urm a tad too true to believe. But I did anyway. To think, he didn't even need my birthday or birth time like how the normal astrology works. He purely based his observations on birth years.

He was a Chinese guy so he asked the birth years of all my family. So that was 51, 59, 82, 86 and 91. Which translated to Rabbit, Pig, Dog, Tiger, Goat to him. And then he started his speech. Man, I was floored. To think, he could figure all that out through just animal-relationships.

He did get one thing wrong though. Everything he described that I would feel with my middle brother was in fact totally opposite to whatever I would feel to my youngest. So, in reality it was swapped. He had got that wrong. Still he got the material facts right.

So, I ventured further to tell him my dream last night. That I had struck 4D 3rd Prize and the same number "rolled" had struct a Consolation too. Immediately he investigated. But alas, since I can't remember the number, nor the draw in which I had took the number, we were both left thinking it might not come true after all.

Still, he gave me a 50% chance it might be true and his personal feeling was that it would be my IC number. What the hell. Let's splurge tomorrow and Sunday then. See, if anything good comes out of it. Not everyday you sit in a cab of some Vietnamese boatman goatee having Chinese man who just HAPPENS to know the inner workings of your family.

He couldn't do much about my second dream though cos he said there weren't enough details remembered to confirm his deductions. Yes, I had slept so long and hard, I had multiple dreams but only remembered this one. In my second dream, I went to take a piss and at first my urine was white. I realized I had more to deposit and this time it was a bright yellow. Then, I was done. But I realized I still had more. This time, my piss was blood red! Appalled I left the bathroom.

Moral of the story: Don't sleep too much. Or sleep only after whacking 2 cans of stout. Either way, whatever you dream, make sure you remember it. Someone could be prodding you on the way to earn your quick million.



Number 607

I'm utterly shocked. It seems in such a short span of time I've gone through 606 posts. The number looked a tad bit Satanic with the lack of just one arc so I've decided to play 607 safe. This time I don't write.

Instead, there has been a friend of ours who has remained dormant for quite sometime and is quite on the roll these days. I seldom have the heart to read through multiple posts of people preferring to read the latest and skim the rest. It's about discipline I say, really faithfully checking back each day. Cos, some blokes just don't update. Those who are guilty of this put up ye hands. And to those who simply skim thru mine. Good job. Now move along.

Praba has come up with some good shit lately. Though moving away from his rhyming roots, this toot cracks me up. Hope he does the same for you.

Read about his woes with his mummy HERE. My fav was "She digs up matters about finance. (Finance which was once there but has been turned into past tense becoz of you.)"

His self-immolation or self-praise HERE. "The only classes I was regular at were detention classes."

Glossary of Hokkien terminology HERE. And for a fitting finale, his comeback post on his newly found P.H.D. status HERE.

There, publicity done. Keep up the good work kiddo. But please, PLEASE learn how to paragraph and not to type with left justification. And white letters on black background, when my Nvidia graphics card's fan has stopped working and I'm working with an integrated solution, is hell multiplied by 666.



Nacho Libre

Have you ever seen a Jack Black production that sucked? School of Rock, Tenacious D series and now he stuns with Nacho Libre. Do catch it. There is never one moment where you have the time to go "Borrrrringgggg", cos even in the lull moments, you catch yourself wanting to hear more of Black doing his whole Mexicaaan accent.

Of course, his love interest is oh so sweet too. Mirroring that little quiet petite girl in Sister Act, remember the one that was too shy to sing? Sister Mary Alice was it? I could be wrong. Anyhow, Nacho is a priest who wants to wrestle. And earning money through his bouts, he puts better food on the table for the orphans at the monastery.

Solid Flick. Get the DVD even.

Nacho: Precious Father, why have you given me this desire to wrestle and then made me such a stinky warrior?

Nacho: Ok. Orphans! Listen to Ignacio. I know it is fun to wrestle. A nice piledrive to the face... or a punch to the face... but you cannot do it. Because, it is in the Bible not to wrestle your neighbour.
Chancho: So you've never wrestled?
Nacho: Me? No. Come on. Don't be crazy. I know the wrestlers get all the fancy ladies, and the clothes, and the fancy creams and lotions. But my life is good! Really good! I get to wake up every morning, at 5AM, and make some soup! It's the best. I love it. I get to lay in a bed, all by myself, all of my life! That's fantastic! Go. Go away! Read some books!

Nacho: [signing letter to Sister Encarnacion] Hug hug, kiss kiss, hug hug, big kiss, little hug, kiss kiss, little kiss.

Pluto Explained

If you remember my initial bitching about that dwarf called Pluto HERE, then this picture below ought to explain everything thoroughly for you. More importantly, it reiterates the big fish eats small fish theory.

Wherever, whenever, there is always something bigger than you. Which is why infinity is still not defined. Click on image and use your browser to maximize it or right click - save as target to see it in its entirety.

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Voodoo Child

Well, I stand up next to a mountain
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand
Well, I pick up all the pieces and make an island
Might even raise a little sand

Cos I'm a voodoo child
Lord knows I'm a voodoo child
I want to say one more last thing

I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time
I'll give it right back to ya one of these days

If I don't meet you no more in this world then
I'll meet ya on the next one
And don't be late Don't be late

I'm a voodoo child
I don't take no for an answer

Food Sick

Continuing on my endless conspiracy theories, I think there is a new attack by all the pro-vegetarians on the meat lovers. Just yesterday, I fell terribly ill with a case of mild food poisoning. Major food poisoning means getting your fluids via a drip lying beside that Ah Pek who likes to dig his nose and see which nurse he can flick it at, setting new records everyday. Mild poisoning means a helluva lot of visits to the toilet to vomit and when you realize you can actually piss through your anus. I kid you not. Pure liquid outflow.

So, it is also proven that RT my fated tainted lau, underline "fated", is really so, cos she also is down with a case of food poisoning when there was nothing to relate both our illnesses. Add to that Rita. So, it's confirmed that if you lau me, or if I lau you, you would be down with food poisoning. All medical cases to report on the tagboard. If you are not sick, shame on you, you two-timing SOB.

Another interesting thought that crept into my mind in the wee hours of the morning is how Hitler and Brahmins are related. See, Brahmins always held the power over the rest of the bozos, thus cementing their place as the TOP caste due to the main fact that they learnt Sanskrit and were the only ones who "apparently" could speak to God for you. I am very perturbed by this.

Since young, I've spoke to God in Malay, Chinese, Tamil, English and various other forms of inaudible expressions. Usually, I need to tell God a story to explain the circumstances. Although, God is All-Knowing, I'd prefer if he/she didn't miss out on the tiny details that could be crucial to the tale. I say "she" also, because it was put to us in the movie "Dogma" which was banned in Singapore that God was actually Alanis Morisette. It was also put to us in "Bruce Almighty" that God was indeed African in descent and looked heavily like Morgan Freeman.

Back to Hitler. This story after told to me for just 2 minutes of laughing out aloud, has since nestled itself in a crevice making me think about it over and over.

Little Girl: Uncle, who is Hitler?
Uncle: He was a German. A bad man who did very bad things.
Little Girl: Then why does he have a swastika on his flag which is he same as our Hindu one?
Uncle: Well, my child, many people are actually Hindu, but they just don't admit it.

Booosh! Bish! Mind-blowing stuff. So, I had to do my own research. And depend on a chain e-mail. And this is what I found:

1. Hitler was a vegetarian, Brahmins are too.

2. Brahmins kinda started this whole Hinduism way of life thing. Swastika and all. Hitler put a Swastika on his flag.

3. Hitler was obsessed with killing Jews and preserving a "clean" Aryan race. Brahmins tend to think they are still the TOP caste and also are Aryan in descent. [There are tons of dark Brahmins though, as there are dark Punjabis.]

There you have it. Hitler is a Brahmin. Nuff said.

Now on to my next curious finding of the day. It came to my attention, of course by a chain e-mail, cos these days, any message you leave on my MSN while I'm away is promptly eliminated when my youngest signs me out. I just don't get what his fascination with my PC is! Summore I give him the laptop to use! Even today, I woke up, and while I was mulling around, waiting to have my first smoke of the day, he returned home, took off his shoes and made a bee-line for my computer. He switched on the monitor, don't know what the hell he was looking for, and then he left. I stress. What is it on my desktop that brings him back time and time again?

Still, being proper law-abiding Singaporeans, no matter how good life is, we always seem to have a grouse with the ruling government and the ruling party. But, the most powerful nation of the world and the people who put out its laws and policies seem to have a whole different recruitment policy. Observe:

Of 535 members of the US National Congress,

29 have been accused of spousal abuse
7 have been arrested for fraud
19 have been accused of writing bad checks
117 have directly or indirectly bankrupted at least 2 businesses
3 have done time for assault
71 cannot get a credit card due to bad credit
14 have been arrested on drug-related charges
8 have been arrested for shoplifting
21 are currently defendants in lawsuits
84 have been arrested for drunk driving in the last year

Aint you glad now we only have leaders who are straight A students and helped the teacher carry the workbooks in Primary School?


Late Addition: Seems, MANY households have food poisoning these few days. Either something is in the water, or something got contaminated. Hope the AVA catches the terrorists who pulled this nasty prank. Bastardos.