MERDEKA

Happy birthday, land of chaos.

I'm working from 3pm to 12mn. Normal commuters are out there celebrating this aged event, drinking, dancing, throwing confetti, fucking, fighting.. etc
And I'm in the office shoving off loads of shit in Outlook.

The pathetic shift-workers were so deprived of all the above that we stood outside the porch waiting for the fireworks. After waiting for 20 minutes, we watched the fireworks booming and blooming in silence. Eyes fixated, expressionless and the whole starry night lasted for a mere 10 minutes. Then slowly everyone left in a straight line. The whole fancy merdeka night was celebrated by witnessing the fireworks.
Hooha, so damn havoc.

I have been queasy for the whole night. This is because I WANT TO BOOZE! Especially when people are parking their butts in the pubs, be it for merdeka (i guess it only serves as a convenience) or for pre-holiday frenzy... I want to be part of the fun too!
But I am still stuck in the office.
By this time party-goers are packing up, some must be squatting at a corner puking their livers out, some sleeping in the pubs, some cleaning the snowfoam from their hairs, police guarding the streets.. aww I can imagine all these...

Okay, tomorrow's not good either. There is no holiday for me - a contractual slave to Royal Dutch.

Argh, so deprived.
TAKE ME OUT!!

Misdemeanor

I love to own cellphones.
With current technology and design-freaks, we can possess thin, sleek, sophisticated and high-tech mobile phones to all sorts of places. Flaunt it, fling it, bling it and swing the fun outta your world.

I used to change mine once a year (sometimes less than that) and felt guiltless about it. Maybe I like to flaunt but what made me so addicted is the features.. yes the wonderful built-in camera, true tones, BLUETOOH, WiFi, 256MB colors... wooweee... turns me on!
My current cellphone is the humble Motorola E398. Though lacking in cosmetic department, it has the above features. Amateurish, but it's the first Bluetoothy phone I ever have. And right now.. I am itching to change.. to SonyErcisson!

Anyway, so much for digressing.
What I wanna say in this entry is......
"don't you hate it when friends around you tend to show each other their sms-es, with witty and sneakish looks?"

I dare say this is called OUTRAGE OF MODESTY!
You want to share some secrets, hide a corner and show it to them. What the heck you have to show the ever-so-mysterious sms to one person and made some remarks that nobody can understand? This is so ridiculous.
The only motive I can possibly think of is, you just love to have people's eyes glued to you, your wholesome selfish son of a biatch.
I have so many people in different occasions who do that all the fucking time.
Males, especially, keep on showing pictures and sms-es to their own sex. They withdraw their weapons like lightning bolt the moment your eyes maneuver slightly to their direction. After that, their cheeky and oh-i-know-a-secret-and-u-dun-grin will appear on their stupid faces.

ArGh. Just can't stand it.
I think they are fetish on feeding each other's own perversions by using their cellphones, right in front of innocent crowd who feel damn dumb just to sit there and share a table, even though they are supposed to share a laugh and indulge in chats.

There is a function called FORWARDING. Rich enough to get good phones but can't afford 20 cents to forward a sms? Cheese in the brains, peeps.


K, enough of babbling.
Just want to keep this blog updated.
Wahaha!

JOKE OF THE DAY

I couldn't stop laughing when I read this:

Message
From : CrossCultural
Date : Fri, Aug 26, 2005
Subject : laknock

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Hello laknock
I M SR Citizen 50yrs 171cm 75 kg.
Seeking female FOR ALL SEASONS
Companionship..LOVERS ..secret affairs…
Mixed Race -Malay Portuguese & Chinese
Returned from USA to Msia in Dec 2000
Married to American lady bud divorced with no children
Working in Shah Alam Sr Managerial position
2 B Your Master Your Slave
King of Sorrow
Doggie BJ 69 3SOM
Shah alam
Fauzyandy

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I'm laknock in that cyberspace.
This particular dick tried his best to be Cassanova, but with extreme bad taste.
He doesn't even have the guts to put his photo in his profile.
'2 B Your Master Your Slave' - How do you expect girls to melt at such words?!
'King of Sorrow' - OH PUHLEASE

The introduction is shameless, formal, prim and fucking boring.
If you can't write, please put your stupid fantasies in point-form.

Take this needle-sharp advice, peeps.
Just because you thought nobody will know who you are, doesn't mean you can write like a retard.

BAH!

Okay Ms Quirk has been lazy.
(what's new?)

Anyway, I was at the company dinner and dance last Saturday.
Man, it was such a bore. To think that everyone was so hyped up and in frenzied excitement two weeks before the event. Dishes were served retardedly, stage performances became eye-sore and I still could not believe that gal was crowned as BEST DRESSED FEMALE for the night. My bitches would have fallen off their chairs while closing their eyes in grief. Waitasec before you start to diss my criticisms. I did not say I should be the Star. For heaven's sake, I could be termed as the WORST INAPPROPRIATELY DRESSED BIATCH of the night. Every clits were covered with glitzy, flattering gowns and shawls, stiff hairdos and nippon paint on their faces. My, they looked wonderful. That's because they dun look like themselves. As for me, besides that woman with schoolgirl pony-tails and 80s denim outfit, I invited scornful stares and amused looks by ALL. Maybe I was imagining it. But my two-inch white slippers were a dead giveaway.
My hair was made by yours truly, in a panicky rush due to the amount of time spent on sticking double-sided tapes on my shirt and bra.
In the end I was feeling rather smug of my image before it was crushed to powder in the ballroom.

Of course I had to smile as widely as possible and tell my colleagues that I dun freckin' care how I look.

God might have pitied me. After the disastrous dinner, we went to a pub that was packed with hungry wolves. I had my dances, downed my drinks, emptied my fags and it really took my mind off my jestery clothes till one of the stickers revealed itself to the public.
But that was nothing. Nothing compared to the huge ballroom with fancy ladies and men with blazers. Bah.

So, what a night. I hardly saw my colleagues. I guess I wouldn't have recognize them anyway. I was in the picture with someone whom I NEVER KNEW. But it's not a shocker, I was a convenient pillar of comparison for the ladies.

Haiya, enough of deprecations.

There's a kitten. His name is Stitch. He bites. Oh yes he does. For pure maniacal fun.
He only hunts for human flesh and whining is his best do.
Remember a song? It befits my feelings to this fella to the ultimate high.
"When Love And Hate Collides"
I slapped him. Yet I stroke his fur with affection, before my hand got bitten of course.

So now this unusal 'family' at 8E Taman PP has a newcomer.
His fangs are as fatal as JAWS. But we adore him to bits.

Two cats, two birds and a pair of starry-eyed lovers.