Friday's rambling ; to kill a monsterous mocking bird. Again.

Do you really think that second chance is a must grab? What if there were third, fourth and fifth? Which does bring you a better outcome.

I am talking bout works, experiences and a confuse lad.

I spend most of my day thinking of what I'm going to be next.

This accountancy and banking things never suit me. I can't imagine myself being stuck in an office analyzing papers I can't even understand. I need to get out. To a more adventurous day-to-day job. A thriller. At least more than what I am facing now.

I got easily fell out with the environment. I mean by the surrounding. I got bored more often than ones could think.

I remember this few lines by this singer cum motivator. He said the most important things is to get yourself a qualification. Doesn't matter in what fields you were into so that whenever you were airing out opinions, there were a base people can look upon. That people know that you have this sort of qualification to utter this view.

I, to be honest doing what I do best now, to get mine.

A piece of paper followed by a heart-beating interview, a big congratulation, a good pay, a hot and spicy colleague, a backstabber, a mouthful war with finance department, an MC, a resignation letter and ...

And then I'll go astray.

Yes, we do learn from the experience. But was the first experiences sufficient enough that you can go and pick your own destiny?

I doubt that.

The upside down of a kingdom.

I am a Nescafe addicted freak. I never start my day without either a cup or a can of Nescafe. Wasn't a good pick for a healthy lifestyle but that's what makes me going.

I have this bad habit of staying up late. My daily sleeping time kicks off around 2 or 3 am. Maybe worst.

Not that I can't sleep but I have this obsession to not sleep early.

I think the great-greatest sleep came only when you are out of energy. Zero. Where neither nightmare nor sweet dreams can pass you by. Let alone wake you.

That's when you wake up, the only thing you remember is you, having the sleep of your life.

So I worked my asses off. From mamak to Pavilion to uptown. Even when I was at home, I watch movies, facebook-ing and play computer games. Everything to stay awake. Until when my eyes can take no more of this liquid crystal display lights.

There, then I'm off to bed.

With another caffeine-esque morning to come.

Sex, dream and jeans #4.

I have this one belief here in me to not idolize someone who is still around, breathing. I prefer to idolize a dead person. Because people, Malaysian or not, Muslim or non, they will talk only the good things about a dead person.

Of what seem to be contrary when he is alive. And fucking.

Who the fuck is Maher Zain?

Last night, a friend of mine talks of how stupid she thinks Malay is. One, for entering this reality show while they didn't seem to possess any kind of talent required and two, for keep saying that they want to change their life through that program.

She thinks that they should study or work hard to change their life instead of go for this instant success. And yes, always and always pray to god.

Pathetic, I know. Both her and the contestants.

Disagreed, I left her a question 'Can praying to God ensured you a change of life?'. A few second and she gave me this 'No but they can at least make an effort'. I then replied 'Aren't singing, I mean entering this competition considered as an effort?'.

Another few second and this 'Please don't halal-ing what is already haram..' and shit.

Great. So I am debating God now huh, bitch?

The Ashburton Grove.

Football is another way of how guys achieved their orgasm. With no bj's and no penetrations required.

Just leave your sleeping girlfriend at home. You put on your color, go find a non-HBO-football-craze mamak, ordered yourself a cup of teh tarik, and leaned back.

And then, your first goal's arrived. With the second one's just shortly after.

Oh fuck. I'm cumming.

The settler's son.

I am not a town boy.

I grew up in the desert of palm oils in southern peninsular where the nearest shopping complex were fourty five minutes away. We (my family and me) didn't go to the town unless we were in need of something, ie; o buy school equipments or to repair electrical appliances.

Back in my school days, I have this big dream of living in this big city. Shopping complexes, cinemas, bad guy, hot chicks and waking up to the sound of car beeping. I sometime wonder how my parent came up with decision to chose a life there, in the middle of the jungle than in here,

Kuala Lumpur.

Don't mess with the Ind... Ivorian?

I always remind my friends to not mess with this kind of people. Those whom their god was there to be seen.

In a fucking square.

A few of those who everything they do was either a lie or under the influence of alcohol. Because they were born with this good ability of spinning things up. To turn a one hour problems into a major national issue.

I wake up to the this facebook status 'Happy Valentine's Day to those who are okay with it' with a smiley and I smile.

Yesterday errr... earlier morning was a hell of experience. Me and my friends were going through the tiresome night of our lives. My girlfriend car, her rear window was smashed into pieces. Mr. Police somehow got their hand on the convicts so we were spending our valentines morning in the police station waiting to this motherfucker to make a confession and settles things up.

A Monday blues v-day morning and some aging chairs. Vintage!

What's lacking is just a touch of candle light thingy but I swear to god if this is Russia or Cuba I've might turn this motherfucker into a human torch. For his milky god sake, put him down into the gasoline and let him fucking burnt and turn into ashes.

At least I made it easy for the family. They don't need to waste their money to buy any fucking sticks. So his father can go for another alcoholic night.

And yeah. My shit to sweet things up.

Revolution.

Wake up - take a shower - dress up - half an hour drive - punch card - computer - work, online, work, online, work - six ringgit lunch - toilet bowl - online, work, online, work, online - toilet bowl - punch card - half an hour drive - home - couch - take a shower - mamak stall - friends - girlfriend - sleep.

I'm channeling the pressure into my best performance. Can't you see?

To survive is to lie to the truth.

Happy people, they don't hesitate. They never, actually.

I do that. I don't hesitate.

Because I believe anything, I mean everything happen in this world contains within itself the way to how to escape. Where every problems have its very own solutions. That a dead end came with an exit door.

I believe that if this one girl walkout on me, there will be another coming. One, two or maybe three. That there will be ways of surviving my lunch hour if I decided to spend what's left in my pocket on this fabulous black leather jacket.

And I won't ended up suffocating for a fresh air in this already polluted world.

All I need to do is go and figure it out.

Sex, dream and jeans #3.

Everybody have this one moment that they want it to never happen. A moment where their weakest point was officially revealed and opened up for every soul around to see.

Their moment of truth.

Of being one of the everybody, I tried my very best to keep mine lying low deep in the ground and as I beg for it to differ, I can't help but spending my days avoiding things that will pave my way to it.

I kicked off by being realistic as a person. Slowly, I killed the feeling inside and out. I thrived under the societal pressure.

To date, the god of modesty is still here accompanying me and I praise Him for that.

A big fucking thank you.

Inter looking ; Black, grey and white.

The best place to actually hear a nonfact story must be at the kedai kopi. Malique spotted this in his 'Cerita Kedai Kopi' hits but giving the fact that I can't find any old skool kedai kopi (as what usually pictured in the malay movie) in the hundred kilometer radius, I won't mind saying mamak stall now is the new urban-type of kedai kopi.

Here, away from the daily arguments with their spouse, guys talk about how disgrace they were of the country's political system. Of their anger when the government decided to hike the oil's price. From how this guy analyzing this young stud to how a beautiful literature was dismissed for it touched the sensitivity of our fellow countrymen.

The Interlock.

Like seriously, what racism is to Malaysians?

So what do you think Encik Karim told Abu during his Biro Tata Negara camp at the Gua Kelam? Go collaborate with non-bumi's because together they can build a better nation. A better future. Fuck no.

Mrs Lim of SRJKC who always remind Ah Keong to go to school and to study hard so that he will someday became a respectable minister and then challenge for the Prime Minister post. Or else those Malay pricks will kick his asses out of this country.

What were Raju thinking when he saw the video of some 'brader-brader' inappropriately scolded and humiliated Mr. Karam Singh Walia for his unappropriated behavior?


Me?

As long as I can still got a high-quality-low-price pirate DVD from Ah Keong, my Kelantanese friends pronounced my name the way it is and the way Mutu make my car look like new every morning at the lowest rate of RM15 per month, racism is never my concern.

And oh, since I was never near to the interest of discussing about political thingy, my time at mamak stall always filled with hey-ho chants of celebrating goals and watching some hot chicks passing by with their urban dresses and their urban-type boyfriends. Fuck!

"Aney, teh tarik satu! Tosei satu!"