Category Archives: Love

Not Albert

He did not order his favorite dish. But he was not Albert.

He went out of his way, beyond his normal principles, beyond his definition. He was not Albert.

He kept the stupid tactless things, and objective comparisons, to himself, causing more awkwardness. He was not Albert.

He could’ve done something cooler. But he was not Albert.

He was red-faced when even alcohol would not flush his face. He was doing what Albert would not do.

He could’ve come home either happy or feeling like a failure. He came home not feeling like Albert.

He blindly did and fell right into the trap. He’d be damned if he did or if he didn’t, but he certainly did not take Albert’s course of action.

He apologizes for that. For it was very challenging, and excruciating, for him not to be Albert.

However, Albert will tell you what he thinks of the movie Casanova:

Quaint, richly decorated Venice landscapes and awesome cinematography emphasize on the great romanticness of this movie. However, the movie stumbles upon its mixed genres. It has excellent, sharp pokes at the church, like “is a confession all you need?” at a court. It has clever puns and double entendres, but those are few and far in between. In the meantime they have a lot of senseless, unfunny slapstick in the background. Yes, they have interesting character-swapping twists that tend to confuse, but if you’re looking for something romantic with clever flirty wit, I’d go with Down With Love.

How To Bug A Lady

I knew a girl who loved ladybugs. And so, it was my plan for the longest time to play a prank on her give her a present. The plan? Make her red Perodua Kancil a ladybug!

I purchased black manila paper, cellophane tape, and cut the manila paper into circles, about the size of CDs.

I arranged a meetup solely for this purpose. I chose a place where I’d be able to see where she parked, namely Amcorp Mall, near Taman Jaya (where KY Speaks collected mandarin oranges). I stood outside, with camera in hand, pretending to take pictures of scenery. She didn’t notice me until I waved frantically (I wanted to hop in so I could find out where she parked.) Instead, she waved back, and parked in the outdoor car park instead of inside, thank goodness.

I then waited in the shade to see which part of the parking lot she came from, so it would be easier to locate her car.

We went for a hearty lunch. Towards the end, I excused myself to go to the toilet, and knowing Amcorp Mall’s hidden, shady toilets, I had an excuse to take a while.

I ran down to the outdoor carpark, frantically tore the cellophane tape and plastered the pre-cut manila paper all over. The manila and tape were concealed in my cargo pants pocket (why would I bring a bag to the toilet?)

Okay fine, I only taped it to the front and right side but that was enough to be seen.

I then ran back, and found that the iced lemon tea I was drinking was gone! I insisted on walking her back to her car to see her reaction.

I’ve done enough straightforward storytelling, so it’s time for you to guess her reaction.

Hey uh, since you can’t really drive a ladybug around, here’s a smaller toy ladybug.” (Which I produced from my other side pocket.)

Anyway, Happy Valentine’s Day to everybody. Instead of slobbering in mushiness or moping about, you could blog about cool, ingeniously sweet things you could do. Or you could take a friend’s girlfriend out. Taxi drivers will relate to you their stories of how they learned another language for their loves!

Every Man’s Dream

I dreamt that I was at TGI Friday’s at The Curve on Valentine’s Day 2006, and I had a few drinks and a big sundae with THE hothothot Hannah Sarah Tan. Then nosy cameramen from NTV7 poked their noses at us.


I never had such a vivid dream, complete with blinding sunlamps and three people seated (I assume they were producers who set us up.) It felt SO real, so intense.

If my dreams were any indicator of my future, I reckon that I’d appear on TV at NTV7, 12:15am (technically) February 14th 2006. Which means you set a phone reminder on 11:45pm February 13th 2006 so you have half an hour to get home and find a TV set. So if I already met Hannah Sarah Tan at the start of V-Day, I cannot imagine how much better the day can go. (I was rudely awakened.)

Back From My Trip

I hadn’t called her in days. How was she? I missed her, but I wanted to wait until tomorrow, when it would be more significant.

Suddenly I heard her voice.

I wonder how he is. He hasn’t called for days.

(long silence)

I wonder if he still likes me. Well, actually, I liked him too.

But then I didn’t like how there was always this nagging voice in the background, like… his mom was bugging him or something, and he yelled back at her. I didn’t like that. And he was always so… I dunno.

Maybe I should call him.

She dialled, and I picked up.

Me: Hello? Hello?

I pressed my pillow repeatedly, frantically, as if my Answer button was there.

Still lost, I picked up my handphone and called her number. No answer. When I realized what just happened to me, I messaged an apology for calling past bedtime.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, Albert is okay not okay. He’s on medication. He was nauseous on Tuesday, and the doctor said he was pale and had low blood pressure on Wednesday. He feels a nice warm buzz on Thursday, 12:30am; it’s already 4 hours since his last dosage, should he take more fever medicine?

Goodbye Yellow Sky

Selamat tinggal Bungaku
Ku doakan kau bahagia
Jumpa kita di neraka

So wrote a muse in a tunnel in Midvalley Megamall. A wise, profound, and yet disturbing poem. Translated loosely, it says:

Goodbye, my flower
I wish on you happiness
Meet us up in hell

Yes, I even turned it into haiku format. 😀 At first glance, it sounds like a girl did him wrong. (Would a girl call a guy her flower, and if so, would she write it on a white wall with a ballpoint pen?) He however still thinks fondly of her, and wishes her the best with her new love. The twist is in “meet us“; us is probably him and whoever he fooled around with.

Oh and I finally watched The Island. Why did he have to die? He wasn’t a typical evil. But then agnates die so I guess it was fair in a way. Yes I hope I’m not spoiling it for you. I may just have faith in Michael Bay to direct the new Transformers live action movie.

Oh check out what the haze brought in:

The Hungry Ghost Festival, also one of the freakiest full moons ever. This picture, and the next, were color-adjusted.

Earlier that day, this was what I saw walking out of ASTRO…

All pictures were merely sharpened and resized; no color adjustment was done except on the third and fourth picture.

Jeanne, Pull!

I was chilling out with two nice guys from Victoria Institution. For those not familiar with Kuala Lumpur, Victoria Institution is one of the more famous boys schools near the Bukit Bintang area.

Nice Guy A: Ever since Bukit Bintang Girls School moved out, the boys have had to hang out in shopping malls there more often. I miss those BBGS girls; they had some sophistication about them. Some educatedness.

Nice Guy B: Well they’ve relocated and become Seri Bintang Utara. And they have boys now.

Nice Guy A: Yeah, but they’re like really backwater guys from villages. (If you are such an educated male from the school formerly known as BBGS, please correct us!)

Me: Oh My God! So that must be God’s way of balancing the universe.

Nice Guy B: Yeah, an ironic way of maintaining variety in the gene pool.

After dinner the conversation turned to Nice Guy A’s luck with chicks. How was it that an English-educated chick who was so meant for him was now with a Chinese-educated dude that we both know? (No offense to either but ideologies and cultures will clash.) He wasn’t exactly great-looking or rich, you know. But he was a lucky dog. Somehow it came to this conclusion:

We’re educated intelligent men. No wonder we haven’t been getting the action. It’s God’s way of balancing the gene pool.

Nice Guy A: Haha, f*** you. (Of course, being nice guys we do not take profanities in this context to lead to tables flipping.)

I Deserve A Star For This

What if… according to the stars, we are not meant to be?

So that sentence was nicked from my friend’s nick.

Sagittarians are freedom-loving, fun-loving… I don’t think I could deal with that, being insecure and all.

So that sentence was nicked from a voice in some girl’s head.

What is it with girls and horoscopes?

So I was in MPH with this chick, who looked for horoscope books for my sign – Sagittarius. We found that it was harder to find than books for any other horoscope, even in the same shelf. That could mean that:

– Sagittarians don’t give flying horse manure about horoscopes, so Sagittarius books don’t sell. Yes I asked some female Sagittarians as well.
– girls are too busy buying Sagittarian guys Sagittarius books, so they can tell us to read yesterday’s prediction and see how supposedly accurate it is… so that we may believe!

I haven’t been getting Sagittarius books, so I decided to call upon Google to prove my first theory. I searched for each horoscope (the word ‘horoscope‘ was added to avoid searching for testicular cancer as well).

Sorted in most popular order:

Results 1 – 10 of about 1

Poe, Sir?

I am inspired by the morbidness of the blog entries of late of my linkees. And so, here goes a poseur attempt:

So am I going to make a move? Is a move going to displace me? If I am displaced, have I fallen off the ladder? Am I supposed to climb up or down? Do I even know where to go?

I’ll take the stairs instead. It’s easier to sit on stair steps than on a ladder. I’m not an acrobat. I may bend, but I am not trained to fall… gracefully. In which case I think it is best I stay sitting. I might even block people from going up or down the stairs. Why, why must you go up or down? Aren’t you happy where you are?

I sit here, not knowing where to go. Some sit because they’re lazy, or tired. The important thing is, we’re both sitting here on the stairs, yes?

If this is how I shall wilter my life away, I’d wish I was dead. Or a zombie. Being undead would be cool. It’s like playing pool and potting the black ball, but continuing to play anyway. The fun is there, but the meaning is gone. Balls.

Unlike those with the formulas, I wish not to control. I wish as far as to know the outcome. For being in control means knowing the outcome and controlling it. I shall not be that ambitious.

I need feedback. Am I doing well? Am I alright? Sometimes, confidence really is what you need to get the right angle. You’ve got to put your heart and soul in it. You’ve got to bend over, vulnerably. Finally, hit it firmly and don’t withdraw. Worry about misplacing and losing later.

You want everything? I do too. Aren’t we part of everything? Everything is the universal set. By such logic, we are in each others’ set. We are a set. In theory.

*snaps into a Keanu Reeves expression or lack thereof*

This is like totally.

This blog entry was inspired by recent events, but not in any way reflective of anything. (I do hope it’s not misconstrued either…) I just needed to feel better by increasing the general verbosity of my blog.

Simple, Man

I woke up with an emo punk song in my head but ended up writing this pop punk crap.

Don’t say hi or hello
Our talk will have its toll
Once you’ve sparked the flow
Of words beyond my control

Don’t send me home
I don’t want to go
To places that we may roam
Where we’d be rolling out dough

Don’t touch me or say that you care
Don’t fancy or ruffle my hair
Don’t party and say that you’d share
For presence should at least be paired

Don’t wake me up
I’m in slumber so deep
It was last night’s tea cup
That wouldn’t let me sleep

Don’t forgive me
I’ll never remember
The things you said to me
Were in a previous lecture

Don’t compliment
I’ll miss it the next day
Don’t stop the argument
For we had a lot to say