Category Archives: Love

Simple, Man

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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

What’s With My Shoes?

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(cue Seinfeld bassline)

So I was entering the office when I saw this hot chick. I looked at her, she looked at me, and her eyes diverted down at my shoes. Now, had noone told me that “a girl who looks at you and then diverts her eyes down to your shoes is checking you out“, I would’ve thought, “what’s up with my shoes?”

The next time a chick checks out my shoes, I’ll look down at my shoes with the expression, “did I step on something?” It would be fun, nevermind her “what a cute idiot” expression.

5 Love Languages

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I took another quiz, but in a different context.

http://www.greaterquest.com/LoveLanguages.asp

Score Love Language
7 Words of Affirmation
10 Quality Time
1 Receiving of Gifts
2 Acts of Service
10 Physical Touch

How to interpret your Profile Score:

Your highest score indicates your primary love language. Your second highest score indicates your secondary love
language. If two scores are identical, you are bilingual (you have two primary love languages). If the scores of your primary and your secondary language are close (for example, 10 & 9 respectfully), it indicates both are important to you. Whatever a significant other does to express love in either of these languages will get emotional points with you. The highest possible score for any language is 12.

Having a clear picture of your primary & secondary love languages will explain much of your past behavior Think back over the past and ask yourself “What have I most often requested from significant others?” Chances are your answer will lie within the scope of your primary & secondary love languages. You have been requesting that which would meet your deepest need for emotional love.

Cue Albert typing in his blog again.

Ah, it makes sense. I don’t need gifts despite my youthful materialisticness and current financial crisis. (Or perhaps because people don’t know what to get me, and I can’t trade it in.) Yes I am a horny young man who likes to be touched, (cue The Darkness, touching youuu) and yes I enjoy company, rather than sit and sip my teh tarik alone. Or perhaps I need people to pander to my ego. Words of affirmation go right up my insecurity lane. Ironically, I am not a touchy feely person, and I’m not a natural at praising people. That doesn’t mean I’m not cool with touchy feeliness… I could get rich suing my molestors… if I even considered it molest.

Now, if only everybody could take this test, put it on their blog, or print it out and stick it on their forehead, so I’d know if I should suck up to them or molest them.

Gone.

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Gone.

How I enjoy such melodrama. It is what makes the world less of a perfect sphere.

If that deceiver can gain an audience with you, why not me?

Alas, I am reluctant. I am timid. Shy. Afraid to know.

How I wish I could turn dejavu-ishly violent.

Maybe I was happy knowing that I hated you, but I was just getting used to it. Better that than say talking and then turning the situation into another possible downer. Better than not hating you, blaming myself and getting myself down in the dumps despite having the grandest company in the world.

Besides, you helped inspire me to write angsty, happy-chord songs.

Nobody helped me. Of course I’m the bad guy. She says she listens, but hell that’s all she does. Like God, she knows all, but she does not meddle. Well boohoo, go on, cry me a red river.

I see where it’s going. Being in childish denial does help with self-preservation. Escape is not only easy, it’s the only way out, because fighting will lead to impending doom.

How I wish you were here, so I could just look at you and mouth off without saying anything. By just thinking it. As if that works. My friend preferred it that way.

I came out, done with the philosopher’s position, and I didn’t get to recite my little speech I devised to ease my conscience while easing myself.

You’d never know, but I know you’d never care.

For once, I want to get into an empty elevator and SCREAM, not to be rudely embarrassed by the dude on the next floor asking, “did you scream justnow?”

Maybe I’ll visit college again. It has 11 floors.

Flashback to yesterday, with a real sincere friend:

“I just need somebody to talk to. I won’t actually talk to you; I’ll just… say it in my head. It’s like somehow you’re listening.”
“But… I can’t! Sure, you can transmit on your psychic channel, but I can’t receive it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just need someone that I feel comfortable with for this mental osmosis.”
“Does it repeat? I mean, do you say the same things to someone each time you tell him in your head?”
“I… don’t know.”

Some part of me wishes to understand. Some part of me doesn’t. Perhaps it’s like how you just wanna bawl your eyes out in a hug and not tell why.

And no, I haven’t heard any Britrock today. 🙂

Cast A Shade

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Baby shine on me your pot of gold
From the mountains up so cold
When the sun shines I am too yellow
To embrace upon your radiant glow
Why don’t you ask, “Why is this guy blue?”
Can’t you tell green is another hue?
Until I’m done cycling in red
I will make you cast a shade

(I’ve actually recorded a demo song with this. Ask me! I have no professional training.)

An unconclusive theory on genealogy

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I was hanging out at a mamak in Hartamas with colleagues (after a frag session) when the subject of male-to-female ratio came up. Statistics say females currently outnumber males.

The magic of my associative brain brought back Biology lessons – the male determines the gender of the child. A guy can marry as many wives and still be cursed with only daughters (before you stamp [SEXIST] on my forehead, I say they would cost more to raise!)

At first I figured that the chromosome that says “bear plenty bosomfuls” would not be passed down, since the female’s genes would have no say in the child’s gender. This would thus increase the probability of males.

That last sentence was in contradiction to the case.

The mom would still pass down her dad’s “bear plenty bosomfuls” to the sons she might have.

And so, I have no conclusion.

Flashback to another Hartamas night, where we were introduced to this girl who, if she had a son, would name him “Q-Tip“. Yes “Q-Tip“. My colleagues asked, “would you marry her if you knew she wanted a son named Q-Tip?”

Perhaps, if I knew it was in my genes to “bear plenty bosomfuls“. I knew it was unlikely, as my mom had five brothers and one sister, while my father’s father’s lineage was MFMF (Male-female-male-female). My father-side cousins were MM, MF and M. My mother-side cousins were FM. I’m the first M in my dad’s MFM. Hence, the son-making XY factor would be strong in me.

And so I said, “no, I would not marry you“. Pity then, she was cute. 🙂

And now, for the answer to the question girls like to ask: How many children would you like to have, and in what ratio?

I like them MFM, like how it is now. Or more practically, MF. Having FFM would make for a effeminate son, like some people I know. MFM would churn a slightly tomboyish middle daughter like my sister, but I figure tomboys wouldn’t go for expensive clothes, and they would be… independent? Plus, they would kick ass and I would feel safer letting them go out.

Cowboy Blues

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I ran down to Texas
There was my woman
Riding a cowboy
Bowlegged on his weapon

I said hey pardner
Don’t you steal my baby
He said chill out my brother
Was not like we was steady

But hell I said
She had my momma’s ring
The one that I gave her
Don’t it stand for nothing?

He said she be wooing smooching b**ching
About mah dog
He said she be flashing tempting panting
But not for my log

As I rode into the horizon
He felt a cold shiver
I felt happy for him
I was proud to be a gift giver

Oh, and I’ve linked YK, Jing, Kristin, Debbie and relinked Dustyhawk and xen0s in that Links section of my narcissistic About Me! page.

We Deyyy

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Oh yes, what an interesting Saturday indeed.

I saw a friend of a friend who owed me money get on the Kelana Jaya LRT! I walked towards my money-owing friend and whistled, hovering over her, irritating her on purpose. She settled her debt. Interestingly enough, I asked her the night before if she was free for lunch on Saturday. She said “sure if you treat me”. I *ahemed*. She didn’t reply.

I then met Aznin at PJ A&W Drive In, Amcorp Mall. Yessir the girlfriend of Syefri.

The A&W bear land, once the premier playground of my childhood and many other kids, was now a sad-looking place. It was just one small construction with one tunnel slide, a monkey bar, and a few springed-seat rides. Before this, it was a grand, tall, long slide, loads of tunnels, and the rollercoasterish climax – a slide leading to a huge maze! The only thing that stayed? The original hand-painted sign that said “A&W bear land”.

We got a cab from Kelana Jaya LRT. Not any regular cabbie. He, as usual, asked if I could speak Chinese, to which I said I could understand Cantonese but not speak it with the proper intonation. However, other things cracked me up:

He: Eh you know ah today is the taling day?
Me: Taling day?
He: You know, taling day!
Me: (Pretending to know) OHHH taling day!
He: You know that day if girl kiss you you extra happy…
Me: Oh…

(Later he waves at a cabbie to his right.)

Me: You know him ah?
He: Yeah, actually they all know me.
Me: How ah?
He: I’m the chairman of the taxi drivers association lah! I so handsome, go on TV and talk, complain to the government…
Me: Wah, so they let you pass all the time ah?
He: Nolah, I keep low profile.

(Later still.)

He: You know actually I can speak Tamil.
Me: Really? Wah! Can hear ah?
He: (Rattles on in Tamil.) Yeah… last time I love this Indian girl.
Me: Last time? What happened? Did you pick her up from the same spot all the time?
He: 3 years ago lah. I love this Indian girl and she love me. So I learn Tamil from her.
Me: And then what happened?
He: She left me! She left me for some other Chinese fella and married him! Until now I am still single… I say lah. Must be damn bad luck one. If not means I won’t drive taxi any more.

I was swept with true pity. This Chinese dude was old (in his sixties) and balding! I paid the fare and asked him to keep the change. We then got out and laughed like hell. It was better than Kerpal (you know, that hit Jerky Boys – You Kicked My Dog MP3 being forwarded around?)

We went to Ikano Power Center and went jakun over everything! The corridors were wide and the tunnels were skinny and long!

The Euphonics music store was stocked with different brands of guitars (Fender, Ibanez, ESP LTD) you don’t usually see in one shop (with a very informed salesman, to add!) The Popular bookstore had a cheap RM3.90 Rubik’s Cube imitation by the same brand (but each time I find one, it’s distinctly different – in this case, it was 133% the size of a regular one, and it felt as spring-loaded as an original, but a bit smoother…)

We terrorized kids in Ikea’s playpen and went around trying to open those darned doors to nowhere. We then ran through the maze that was Ikea to meet a unnameable supposed-to-be-my-date friend for dinner at Ikano’s food court. I looked around for the fancy fountain tap that I heard my mom telling me about, and found it at the back. It was in one tiny room instead of being the center of attraction!

As we left to walk to One Utama (cab drivers would charge crazily to go to Kelana Jaya) I realized what taling day meant. Darling day! Darling day!

Aznin (in jilted sobby voice): “Why didn’t you get me a real, red rose instead of this pink clump of leaves which I picked, gave to you, to give to me?”
Me (in agitated Indian voice): “Aiyah I tell you lady, I am dressed in red already and I am biiigger than any red rose you can fiiind on the overpriced florist! Whaaat more could I be haaa? Selfless that’s iiit! To give myselllf to you!”

One Utama 2 was huge as we walked past it, but we didn’t go in, since we were rushing to the taxi stand.

She asked me to pick up a fallen rose from an exhibition in One Utama’s main hall. I told her “I’d pick up a RM5 note from Taman Bahagia LRT but not a rose, shy lah…” What would they do with those anyway? (You know, roses around a arched top between two pillars…)

Hmmph. I got her a 4D puzzle from Jaya Jusco One Utama, much like those I have made Hannna fall in collectible love with. I got myself an apatosaurus (long-necked 4-legger) and for her, a hedgehog with its spikes combed down. Damned cute and round! She loved it. (My brother has one too, but he’d never let me touch it since it was too damn round and cute to be pulled apart.)

While lining up at the cashier, I said to her, “You know why I like you so much? I don’t need to learn a new language to be with you!”

We walked, talked and laughed until we had to stop for thirst-quenchers every 15 minutes.

We managed to hitch a taxi at the first point where taxis turn in to One Utama. What luck! This taxi driver was quiet though. At Kelana Jaya they did some fancy switcheroos since the earlier taxi wanted to go where she was going, LOL! The passengers were asked to get out and take the taxi behind it!

How about Sunday? I have always dubbed Sunday the day of rest, and rightly so, I slept till dinner, waking up only for lunch.

Oh, and dead blogs have been removed from the links of my About Me! page. Irma and Ed are relinked. “Broken links” is a funny oxymoron.

Depressing Prescription

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A friend once asked, “why is it when guys talk about their ex-girlfriends, they only say how she looked like?”

It took a divine revelation a meeting later to say, “Well, would they be saying what a wonderful personality she had after they broke up, on say bad terms?”

Another friend asked, ” Between two friends with only looks or personality, which would you choose?”

I sarcastically replied:

Looks of course. If you had a problem with the looks person, that’s what friends with personality and intelligence are for! You talk to them and they figure out your problems. Now compare that with having a mindgame with a personality person. Go to the looks person, and he/she will say “I also dunno lah…”

God forbid that I’d have to swallow my words and believe them now.

Who needs honesty when applied psychology works better?