Monthly Archives: March 2004

Don’t Let The Bed Bugs Bite

There was a brown beetle on my blanket last night.

Being the unreactive (or shall I say calm and collected) guy I was, I did not panic or call my mommy (she was asleep).

I waved the blanket in the air, trying to shake off the bug(ger), but it persisted! It stuck there, with its tiny claws in the checkered fibres.

Improvised I did! I took a long toilet roll tube and cupped it. I then covered the opening of the well with thick tissue paper. I then overturned the toilet roll tube, with the blanket following. Twap! I flicked the other side of the blanket like the finest illusionists of those days.

I slowly removed the blanket, covering it with another piece of tissue. I had captured the miniscule beast! I felt its helpless weight tumbling through the tube as I walked to the window. I held it outside and released the bottom tissue door; the tissue fell, with what appeared to be the bug on a ride of its life down the first floor rooftop.

I walked back to bed, knowing I had spared a bug’s life.

As if to thank me, it whizzed, flying back into the room later, happily exploring the room. My brother and I avoided. Made me wish I threw the tube with both walls still on! Its cage would fall apart upon descent anyway. We laughed and figured it shouldn’t come back (or we weren’t bothered) so we went to sleep.

Near Tractor

I went to Ikano Power Center and got myself a 10-minute RM12 haircut. Except that I had to wait 20 minutes, and so I hogged my hairstylist for 17 minutes. 🙂 I asked that I not look like a schoolboy again, but I didn’t want a mere reduction in hair size. What was the secret to fast haircuts? Clips to hold up hair as they cut layers, and a vacuum cleaner to suck the loose hairs after the haircut. Oh, and no wash/rinse/dry process; everything was dry except when they sprayed water at the very end. They gave a complimentary long, grey comb, and you could take their brochure that had 2 bandages inside. I wonder why.

With my new hairstyle, still very much in the veins of Taiwanese boyband F4, I decided this:

I shall learn a new language to pick up chicks. Chinese.

I then went to Popular Bookstore and got myself 3 Rubik’s Cubes. Yessir. I am that intent on replacing the broken ones. One large one for home, an a large and regular-sized cube for the office.

I took a cab to One Utama, for my virginal step into One Utama 2. It was wide, much like Ikano! The Fear Factor challenge was on, and I was supposedly on duty. Of course, I’d have to follow the flow and bump into an Incubus-headbang-mate and Seng Yip. Headbang-mate was a mate of Aznin and we went around jakuning, entering the huge new MPH, where she greeted all her ex-colleagues from the old branch.

My boss treated an ex-colleague for her birthday, and so I paid the handsome price for accompanying duties at Dave’s Deli. 🙁 As I walked back, headbang-mate, Syefri, Aznin and the-cool-dude-who-gave-me-free-Milo-at-Xgames-2004 went to A&W. Funky place that was, with outdoor seating. The Penang-bridge-like walkway was in sight, but it was raining so we did not get to cross it for fun.

Well diddlydoo Jimmy was in the area, and Syefri and I walked back. He wasn’t there just yet. 🙁 MW finally arrived, and she dragged me (or rather, nudged me from behind constantly) to jakun at MPH’s guitar books. Jimmy was in a rush, and he tapped me from behind at MPH. His gauze-like eyebrow bandage was a testament to his near-death experience! The tall fella rushed off, forgoing an offer to teach him how to finish the Rubik’s Cube in 5 minutes! Ah well. I sent MW off.

I wasn’t even sure of the last Fear Factor challenge but here they are in order:

1) the guy being blindfolded with the girl piggyback-riding him, and he had to run across a landmine of mousetraps as fast as possible with the least amount of traps set off. (The guys did not have to take off their shoes!)
2) the guy sticking out his right leg as the girl waxes it in 30 seconds.
3) both of them on the tightrope, collecting flags.
4) transferring as many worms from one container to another.

Yep, there had to be a guy and a girl in each team, unlike the previous year’s, where Davina the funkmeistress (and past Fear Factor runner-up!) was at the booth. She was on her insane sugar high as usual. I wonder what she puts in her vegetarian diet. She inadvertedly dragged Shaz and William along to Ice Stein. I told the thespian to act along, like:

Cashier: What would you like?
She: A Gold Rush for me, please.
Cashier: How about you sir?
Me: Er… (looks at menu)
She: So… how now?
Me: Brown Cow!

Unfortunately the aforementioned thespian didn’t do it well the first take. “So how?” My brilliance was wasted!

Shaz finished his Brown Cow, and William finished whatever it was he was drinking. The Gold Rush was mango with passion fruit. It tasted like one of my favorite medicine syrups!

My Brown Cow however was a totally different story. It was super thick. It was like iced liquid chocolate. Davina took a sip and stoned. It was good sht, she declared, after probably a minute of letting the flavor linger.

After drinking what felt like a cup, I noticed I was only done with one third! After reaching two-thirds, we walked up to Factory Outlet Store where she felt like getting tops. As I waited outside the dressing room, she asked if I was still there. “Shy lah want to show you this one, it shows my belly!” That would be ironic, since you’d have to wear clothes in public eventually. 😛

I also felt queasy when I finished the cup while waiting. Not like it was yucky; it was just too much chocolate in one go.

When I realized that I was late for Dragon Red‘s performance (the reason I stayed past 8pm) I rushed back to headbang to their last two songs, which wasn’t as fun with such… unmoving, undynamic, shorter hair.

After having evaded duty, I called it a day and took a cab home.

Sleeping Child

Oh my sleeping child
The world’s so wild
But you’ve built your own paradise

– from Sleeping Child, performed by Michael Learns To Rock, that horribly stick-in-your-head pop rock band

Somehow these lyrics came to mind when Michael Jackson was on the news. (Of course, in his context, Michael owns the paradise…)

Joy To MY World

Joy joy joy.

I once again restored all my entries using Google‘s cache of my website! I managed to keep the post IDs and links intact by a tricky process of calculating how many comments go in and when. Makes me wish I coded it more efficiently. I only backed up the database last January 19th 2004 so every post after that has bogus filler posts to satisfy the quota (and some may even tell you what people may have posted!) Dejavu. I lost a lot of paranoid tracker entries but heck. There’s Brinkster‘s ad banner on top but heck. I’ve updated my About Me! page with some links.

I’ve successfully flashed my DVD writer; it is now region free, though only certain software DVD players will know it. The rest aren’t fooled by DVD Region-Free! Ah well.

Tomorrow will be a hectic day – go to post office, send in MENSA form, claim DiGi postpaid points for some discount off a new phone, send my old motherboard for repair, get my driver’s-seat-virgin-butt registered for classes, and go to Virtual Arena, Desa Sri Hartamas, to get myself a review copy of Counter-Strike: Condition Zero. 😉

The Kuwaitians Strike

I went to Sunway Pyramid, paying RM5.60 for a taxi using meter (a rarity for Subang cabbies!) from Subang Parade.

I met up with the Katie-Holmes-lookalike Pei Wen at Giordano, where I finally acquired myself a new pair of jeans. (My mom got my sister and I each one pair last time, and my sister wanted the lighter one. She then changed her mind and exchanged with me. One day my mom told me that my sister was going to cut my jeans off at the knees so she could use it fashionably. No, that was not anybody asking for permission.)

I held back getting a pair for ages, because I never knew what to get to accentuate my er, legs. What would be right for my shape?

Fortunately Giordano made the decision painlessly easy for guys. There was only one type of cut (loose fit) and only one price. The only difference was in material, and I picked the lightest one.

As I was testing it, the shop assistant asked “sir can I measure ah?” I put on my old cargo pants and came out, puzzled. What was he going to measure? Was I going to be measured ala Joey Tribiani of FRIENDS?

Turns out he had a lot to cut off at the bottom. Eep. (At least people say I have athletic looking legs though all I do is walk around town a lot.)

He said to come back at 8pm, and we went to try out Roti Plaster. Turns out it was just a fried egg plastered on top of a Roti Kosong! There was no hole to plaster even.

We went back to collect it, and followed the flow until we reached the bowling alley.

It was a championship!

The first bowler to catch our attention was this Adrian guy, having cleared all his shots (lacking of a better term?) before that. He got a score 242 at the end of the round. We gaped.

The Kuwaitians Strike

We walked up and down the lanes till we found this superhero Khalid Al Emad. He was big, with thick, hairy forearms, and with a goatee from his ears down. He had 7 strikes from the beginning of the round!

In between each strike, he would stand behind a chair, with his right leg over the chair’s back and his right shoe planted on the chair’s seat. His hands would rest on the seats. That, my friends, was his power stance. What other secrets did he have up his sleeve? When his teammates congratulated him, he did not slap their palms quickly. His hand barely moved during the greet. He also did not wear gloves!

Before throwing, he would hold out the ball towards the lane, as if offering it to the gods of bowling.

The announcer was quick to point out his 7 strike streak. He didn’t get a strike after that! Perhaps the announcer disrupted his energy. At least he got 259!

We later returned to the local Adrian and found he got 256, with probably a 5 strike streak, again marred by the joyous announcer.

The competitors with “Al” as their middle names were from Kuwait (as noted on their shirts.) All of them were good, and they looked somewhat the same, although their last names were different. Were they cousins? There was also a dude from Qatar, but he wasn’t as good. What, in all those deserts and oil slicks, would you find bowling alleys in the United Arab Emirates?

It was late, and I took a metered(!) cab to Kelana Jaya LRT for RM5.40. I then took the LRT to Masjid Jamek and took a cab home, for RM6.10! Now what was surprising was that the cabbie showed a 4-day old new route, and the distance the last cab travelled should be a lot more (and yet did not cost that much!)

Regional Trouble

Geek satiation time!

As if fate should piss me off once again, the original Red Hot Chili Peppers – Live At Slane Castle DVD-9 made me change my DVD writer’s regions.

Nope, DVD Region-Free did not work as advertised.

Yes, I had to change from Region 1 to Region 2 (Apparently this DVD-9 was for Regions 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 only!)

Nobody let playing a DVD be easy.

Yes, it is fully original with Holographic KPDN & HEP (no, not the imitation DVD-9 hologram), a Imported Warner Music sticker and censorship board approval! Yes it is a DVD-9 with a whooping 7.35 GB (so please don’t ask me to copy it for you although I have a DVD burner and know how to use it, as I have no media above 4.7 GB.)

Yes, it kicks ass with the fancy video shots and detailed DVD-quality stubble but I have to sleep and wake up tomorrow or rather in 2 hours time.

Tomorrow I promise a story on the acquisition of the DVD, and how the Kuwaitians striked yesterday!

Who’s The Man?

Yay today is when I decide to print the System Restore help page and now my full-blown Windows XP installation is back!

Oh, and I rode in Shaz‘s huge white sporty-looking Mercedes. My LRT buddy is now a driver!

Oh how proud I shall be over his oversizedness. Oh how I would miss him.

Jayaram came by, following us to the car park, asking, “why didn’t his dad just get him an entry-level car?

To which I said, “you mean a car that facilitates entry at his level?


Today I was on the LRT to KLCC when a distraught friend called.
She: Are you near KLCC?
Me: I’m heading there, why?
She: I need somebody to talk to. (Insert crying sniffs.)

I was supposed to be at KLCC at 1pm, but I told them 2pm since I’d be coming after work, to which I got off and decided to come at 1pm. Of course, there was due consolation at DOME (where my friend borrowed Pete Teo‘s lighter) and we both played pharmacist (giving advice we’d never take.)

My distraught friend followed to the gathering. She makes the world seem so small! She knew somebody and somebody else’s friend.

I finally met my picture-taking-linker. Someone who had my link and took a picture of it. Of course, I wouldn’t reveal her link, since there I have some hesitation about linking LiveJournal users.

I met an Avril-Lavigne lookalike (but loads cuter-looking) who totally rocked except for the part where she asked, “are you a Trekkie?” I mean, it’s not really a compliment to be told or asked. (To my relief she took out a Klingon Dictionary.) For the record, I used to record Star Trek: Voyager for my aunt without the ads, and I enjoyed The Next Generation, though Deep Space Nine was a boring journey-less show.

Bah weep granah weep nini bong? (Taken from Transformers: The Movie, as the universal greeting.)

I also met a Chai-fan. Yessir that Coffee Bean drink that is tea with cinammon, at RM7 (without tax). All I could drink from the takeaway cup cover was the steam! I removed it for the full frontal whiff. It was, really, Teh Tarik with cinammon. I suggested Maju Curry House, that also had Teh Tarik with slight cinammon even if you didn’t ask for it. (It was then itself that I knew the smell was cinammon!) It was near the Masjid Jamek LRT interchange station, to the left coming out of the long PUTRA LRT escalators. It was then I found out that Lionel Goh also knew about that place!

I didn’t talk much with the rest of the crowd though, since I was engrossed in musical conversation with the Chai-fan and the Avril-lookalike. Topics ranged from the “have I seen you at Urbanscapes?” to the neckaches from the Incubus concert.

It was time to beckon and I met xen0s at the KLCC LRT station, to take the LRT to Bangsar and then a cab to Su Ling’s birthday party. We reached there somewhat early and walked about, to find Ironwood, a guitar shop. I went in and jakuned over the BC Rich guitars. We stood around for quite a bit before I nudged xen0s, asking him to test the guitars out. It was neat. He did some old-school Metallica, especially the songs I never got round to getting the tabs to. There was this other cool dude with emo glasses who showed us how a Flying V was meant to be held. He also recognized Tenacious D – Tribute when I played the intro riff, and sang the lines!

We then went over to the birthday party an hour late. I met Annie my old pool-virgin-mate there. I had a practice round, with total anti-kai-ness, where I’d just look like I hit something in but miss or send the white ball in. After that, I took whatever was left of the buffet table. I then played with the ever-humble now-sharpshooter. I was still a lucky shooter.

The dancefloor was open, and the lack of density and the deejay’s bad transitional skills (and maybe a few not-so-popular track choices) decreased the buttshaking activities of the young and nubile chicks there. One dude shouted that the DJ sucked, and he was in for a reprimanding. “I’ve been a DJ for 8 years.”

I didn’t overhear the entire conversation. Of course, while as a deejay I’d love to allow people to discover not-so-overplayed tracks, the crowd wasn’t legal, and they had yet to reach somewhat musical maturity. They’d only dance to songs they knew and saw on MTV! Unfamiliar songs were booed.

Whatever happened to finding the groove of the song? I mean, I wasn’t an R&B or hip hop fan, but I could just find the beat and follow it. Sure, some songs pride itself on its unique, irritating samples, but eventually you find some similiar concepts. Same goes for rock music – find the beat and headbang. Sure, some songs were more fun, but his selection wasn’t all that underground. However, his transitions were awkward and jerky, from one song to another. That, perhaps, should warrant him some needed training.

I took a cab home past midnight, and the taxi driver didn’t turn on the meter, but I didn’t say anything. It would usually cost RM7, or RM14 for midnight charge, but I was glad that upon reaching home, he only asked for RM10.

Are you a techie?

Here goes a paragraph: I’m on my first hard disk now. The second one rebooted right after its Scandisk. Total bummer. I’m on a barebones Windows XP installation. The lack of programs installed makes me feel like I’m using a cybercafe computer, except for the games installed. I managed to backup what I thought should be backed up on 9 DVD-Rs. Yes, 9 DVD-Rs at around 4.4 GB per DVD average, or 40.6 GB! (And that’s not even counting pr0n.)


Jenny’s got a problem
Jenny’s got a bum
Jenny has a brainless anthem
And she was saved by a sour plum

Who cares, really, for Jenny?
Who is her custodian?
Was the task up to me
Or the woefully appointed guardian?

(Yes, it sounds dumb, but is intentionally cryptic.)

The Real Quiz

It wasn’t too long ago that I was missing from work on Sunday, on a date to exist once every 4 years. I was at the National Science Center for a MENSA IQ test. (Thanks to Hannna for the information.)

I sat for the Advanced Progressive Matrices test. I forgot most of the details, but there were no words, just 3×3 patterns, where you’d have to pick the missing one from 8 answers. There were no “if A is B and B is C therefore…” questions; all the questions were abstract patterns free from the constraints of language. I think there were 36 questions, for a maximum of 180 marks. The passing rate was 148 for entry to MENSA; whether that implied that you’d have only 6 chances to answer wrongly at 5 marks per question, or that the answers were weighted differently, I did not know. I did not even know if your score translated directly into the classic benchmark of your Intelligence Quotient or IQ. The guy said he’d send the results by courier in 2 weeks.

Anyway, enough of sounding smart.

Yesterday my momma, she tella me-a to go eat dinnah and go home mahself. And so I called Shaz and he was in KLCC dependably as a lepak buddy. He brought Penang dudes from the Incubus concert! (P.S. My review is here.) The Penang dudes, they uh say hey let’s be at the Kinokuniya, the bookstore upstairs, and we go up the escalators. Hmm if a place has no stairs, like getting to Fitness First on the 2nd floor of Maxis Tower (which is dumb for a fitness center), can we still say upstairs? (Whoa Hannna-ism there.)

Speak of the devil or at least the gollum-lookalike, she was there at Kinokuniya, standing at the counter, so coincidentally near more 4D puzzles. We walked, we talked, we bade farewell to the Shaz-in-a-rush and the Penang dudes about to watch a movie. We convinced Nora, Hannna’s friend, (come to think of it I don’t remember if her real name has one N or two Ns but heck) to get a squirrel 4D puzzle for her friend’s birthday. We chose Starbucks over DOME and watched the Hannna-the-MENSA-member struggle with her oh-so-cute-and-yet-elaborate hedgehog puzzle. (Yes the same one Aznin made me get her.)

When I reached home, a letter was waiting. It was from the Malaysian MENSA society, and had a 30 sen stamp on it. Nope, none of the grandeur of a courier mail. What, were they considerate enough to tell me I didn’t get in anyway? *does a Dick Solomon egoistic pose* (Of course, if I got 180, they’d be camping outside my house ready to shake my hand and toss me in a duffel bag for shipping to an underground lair where they would extract my brain and conduct experiments without my consent yes?)

Anyway, back to sounding smart.

It said I got 156 out of 180. Yes I barely passed. That means if you’re thinking I’m bombastic, then you must feel stupid, and if you’re not as smart as I am, you probably wouldn’t pass. (And yes, I was braggartly deliberately complicating my sentences.) Of course, if you’re already in MENSA, then you must be equal or greater in intelligence to me. I bow to you.

The membership application form was attached. You could be a genius and be a lazy procrastinator at the same time, and so I did not rush out in the dark night to a Pos Laju (speedy courier mail) office and send my application. Plus I had no experience with money orders or cheques (despite my father’s attempts at forcing lessons down our throats.)

What would I want with MENSA anyway? To meet brainy chicks? Well, that, and to find some Rubik Cube enthusiasts, perhaps.