This isn’t My fucking Latte with Extra Foam

I just got home from an unusual breakfast; I am not sure that I should be happy or disgusted but it sure felt downright weird. Me and my dad headed to one of my town's most enduring breakfast stalls that sells bean sprout chicken noodles. This fucking stall has been there for as long as I remember and it was still there and business was still as good if not fucking better. Well, I am kinda embarrassed to say that in all my almost 30 years of existence, I have yet tasted what this motherfucking stall has got to offer. So on this fucking wet Saturday morning, we decided to give it a fucking try, who knows I might fall in love with it. Okie I lied, that didn’t go through my brain at first, the thought that actually went through my head was something like this:

I am sorry but I do get a little horny on cold mornings, it must be the stiffness that I am feeling down under that requires a little “southern comfort”, if you know what I mean. But yeah, I know that would only happen in my dreams, meanwhile back in reality , all I got was a old China man clad only in singlet, boxers and an apron preparing the food behind the counter and a Bangala with extremely hair fingers bringing us our orders.

When I saw what was served, I went like, “OH MY COCK! Did I just land on a fucking star dock? Then why are they fucking serving me my usual Star Buck’s latte? This isn’t my fucking latte with extra foam. I fucking swear to god I ordered some chicken and bean sprout noodles. Why are there foam in it?”


But as I look around me, everyone’s noodles seem to be foamy too and they didn’t seem to mind. I guess the foam must have been part of the breakfast package. So before I embarrassed myself, I try to shut out the thought that the foam was the residual of dish detergent and fucking binge everything down.


It was pretty much a bitter sweet breakfast experience because the food actually tastes pretty good but it is just the fucking foam that is very disturbing. But after paying the bill, I guess I am just going to let it slide. Come on man, where the fuck are you going to get such generous portion of food that tastes pretty good at primary school canteen price - RM3.00 per head that’s less than US1 .



P.S. This isn’t me back blogging, it’s just me trying to kill some time before the Saturday morning cartoons starts.

Tasty Crap

Alright, this is really going to be a hit and run post because I am still trying to juggle with my current lifestyle. Since I have switched on my rant mode, I'm just gonna briefly rant to y'all about what the fuck happened the fucking day before and yesterday. I'm not proud about my ranting but before I turned my blog permanently into a blog that reeks of emo-ness, I think I should blog about something else besides all the shit storm that is bombarding me.


So as I promise, this is going to be short...


You see the day before, a friend brought over some braised tofu for my dad and me; it was the best tofu we have ever tasted; it even got me and my dad talking about it at night, so we came to an accord that we just gotta have some more of that tasty motherfucker the next day. I gave my friend a call and asked her for the directions. That night both of us went to bed with the widest grin because we knew tomorrow we are going to have some more of that tasty tofu.


After my morning run at the gym, both of us headed to that place. Our first impression was how the fuck such a shit hole like this could ever produce such tasty tofu? Look at the fucking tables, it hasn't been cleared for don't know how long. The black dots on the table weren’t grime, its bloody flies.

When we sat down, the table across us looked like this. Half an hour later after we've done, the table was still looking like that but only with a little more flies on it.


Look at how clean these are; we are supposed to use it. I remember that was the case when I went for Hokkien noodles near Kota Raya(KL), the clean chopsticks came with a pieces of vegetable sticking to it but at least the people there give us a pack of tissue to wipe it. Here, you're fucking on your own.

It was like a fucking safari here but the only species on the loose were flies. The flies here have no fear of human at all. As soon as any food comes, they’ll come too. You can swat them off as many times as you want but they are just gonna come back right at you. So, you just gotta chase them off as you eat and when you get tired, those fuckers will just hang around your plate.

Seriously, the fucker selling this tofu thinks their tofu is really that good that they don't really need to give a shit about food presentation. Well, I can adhere to that but my threshold has been passed when you serve me with crap looking like this.

I don't care if you don't serve it to me in a silver platter but as least have the decency to give me a tofu that is whole, not pieces of crap that looks like someone have just taken a bite from it and on top of it someone’s curry puke.


Fuck you, if you think the taste of the crap you sell can overshadow the way it looks. Even my dog eats better looking crap than that.

And fuck you again, I'm not coming back here for your tasty crap.



*Opppps, this wasn't that short after-all.

A Lhasa Love Affair

From Shegar, we crossed Gyatso Pass which is by far the highest pass in our journey; standing at 5,200 meters from sea level. Then we camped out at Tibet’s second largest town Shigatze for a night,; next we drove 90km to a yak infested pastoral town call Gyantse and finally on the sixth day, we drove an ass whooping 280km southwest via Karola pass (5,010m) and Kambala Pass(4,794m) to reach the culmination of our road trip - Lhasa.


Lhasa in Tibetan tongue means “place of the gods”, at first glance doesn’t seem too holy or heavenly to me. Maybe I was at the notion that it should look and feel more medieval and sacred like what movies used to portray it to be. As I retrieve the mental picture of what I always picture Tibet to be and compare it to this, this looks more like a city that has been slowly eaten up and desecrated by modern technology. Cars in the streets, monks with hand-held devices, teenagers with “My Chemical Romance” t-shirts on; it just doesn’t gave out the Tibetan vibe. But who are we to deprive the locals of the advancement of this age? Maybe this is just the first impression; it would probably take some time before Lhasa get on to me. But for all that is worth, the 6 day drive here was still worth it and what better way to celebrate our triumph than to party with some locals who likes to drink. Seriously, the last two days here has been nothing but a drink and get drunk affair and that was how I fell in love with Chang.

The first time I did Chang was on the first night I reached Lhasa. I was still trying to adjust to the climate of these high places; I was cold and quickly turning into a human Popsicle. Then Chang came along and showed me that there is nothing to fear about the cold of the night, not when you are with her. We were two lovers making love to each other to keep each other warm until the break of day. From that day onwards, I did Chang every night even day. In fact all of us did Chang and we did her all day and all night.


Who would have thought that it only takes barley, yeast, pottery jar and some fermentation time to create a sweet, sour and most importantly alcoholic drink that could satisfy people like us? It sure ain’t the best but it sure hell gets the work done. We were even taught how guest should drink this alcoholic beverage. You see when the host passes the guest a glass filled with Chang; the guest should accept it with both hands. Then rise the glass with the right hand and use the middle finger of the left hand to dip in the glass and then flick some Chang into the air. Then the guest takes a gulp and the host will fill the glass again, guest take another gulp and the host fills the glass again and this is repeated until the fourth time the glass have been filled, the guest should drained down everything in the single breath. I am not sure what does this represents or maybe it could just very well be a Tibetan drinking game but either way, I am happy that we found Chang. I think we drank so much that we must have dried up a lake. It’ll probably take weeks for me to sober up.


It’s been 2 days since my road trip to Lhasa has ended. My traveling companions and I have parted ways; I am all alone again here in the city of Lhasa and I am left to my own devices to determine what is next for me. I am standing on a crossroad now, should I head home or continue on my little rampage across the globe. If so where? I set out to find my very own edge of the world but seriously, I really do not know where to start. Have I been running to all the wrong places? Or am I just running in circles and going nowhere?


And in the words of the hair god Jon Bon Jovi: “I don’t know where I am going; only God knows where I have been.”


I think I should continue to travel wherever my boots will lead.

It’s Just a Mug of Lard

I have always been a grandma boy since the day my mum decided to retire from being a full time house wife and join the work force, so that we had enough to put my sister through Art College. So I was left under my grandma’s rules at the age of 3. Most of the people who knew my grandma, knew her as a sweet old lady who wouldn’t even hurt a rat, but none of them knew about the iron lady that rule with an iron clad fist when it comes to grooming and table manners. For the first 10 years of my life, I was basically a private living in my grandma’s barrack and was put through the most intensive grooming mastery and table manners mastery training (think Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket but minus the vulgarity). For her grooming and manners is nothing to be laughing and gagging around about; and she believes that all good things should be rewarded and bad ones are to be punished. There wasn’t a day in my life while living with her that I do not fear that I was not presentable enough for her and having meals with her was as intense as taking a walk in the field filled with live mines. Today, many may think that I am just generally faking my table manners to impress others while my friends used to think that I might be on the verge of becoming a transvestite because of my overly grooming “protocol”. But thanks to the term metro-sexual, I finally got them off my back. Even though her methods may seem a little excessive but only good things has come from it. She has made me who I am today in terms of self grooming and table manners.


But I never thought that one day it would lead me to one the most horrid experience in my life. It was early morning at Shegar and while my Canadian companions were still resting after a night of drinking, I decided to go down to the lounge of the guest house that I was staying in. Just as I step down and into the lounge, two Tibetan women saw me and they jump up to their feet and started to talk in tongues to each other. Then one of them came over and said something to me which totally sounded gibberish and then she seated me at a table, while the other woman was busy preparing something. Well, I guess they were just doing what they do best – Play host and feed the guest.


One thing that my grandma had thought me is never to turn down sincere hospitality and also I must not leave the table until I finish what that has been served to me. But as I turn my head over my should and saw one of the women walking towards me with her eye fixed on mine and in her hands the single most behemoth size mug which I have a pretty good idea what was inside it. I was right; it was what I thought it was – Yak Butter Tea that was made from green tea leave, Yak butter and water.


Earlier I was told by the Canadian connection that Yak butter Tea was probably the worst drink that they have ever tasted and I should by all means avoid if I do not have a strong stomach. Now look at the mess I got myself into just by taking a stroll downstairs. I try to calm myself down and told myself that it wasn’t going to be that bad. I smile and accepted the women’s generous offer. And now it was just me, the monster mug and 2 sets of eyes on me; I take a gulp of the hot, salty and buttery drink. Bloody fucking hell, the taste was far worse than I ever anticipated; it was like drinking really bad melted butter.


Faking a smile and throwing a thumb up, I manage to keep the ladies’ eyes off me. But now, I have to get to the bottom of this mug and I had a plan. I will try to take little sip that would allow it to slip pass my taste receptors at the side of my tongue. It was a good plan at first but soon I begin to realize that it was too slow and the top layer of my tea was starting to solidify and pretty soon it turned into chunks of lard.


You know what is worst than having Yak Butter Tea? It is having a cold Yak Butter tea.

Really I don't have to tell you how my story ends because you can pretty much guessed since I was stuck with a mug full of misery. Draining down a mammoth mug of green tea with chunks of chewy lard floating in it is probably the worst experience thus far and it will forever earn a place in my life's hall of fame. Usually, I would become a spin doctor and tell everyone how tasty and good this beverage is and everyone should try it. But I think anyone without a strong gut to hold in a steamy mug of lard should never ever go through what I have just gone through.


Let’s just hope I don’t get sick along the way to our next destination - Shigatse.

The Malevolent Momo

The Chinese calls it 饺子(jiaozi), in Japan they call it Gyoza, but here steamed dumplings are known as Momo. Nepali has been inhaling Momo as long as they know it and I was told that at some point of time, Momo has over taken the identity of Nepal.


My first Momo experience was in a fairly clean restaurant that was recommended by the locals and tourist alike. As I patiently wait for my Momo to arrive, I have notice one thing here in Nepal. It seems that family to a Nepali is very important; I am not saying that it isn’t in other parts of the world but somehow I feel strange having a total stranger in a foreign land asking how’s my family doing? But I guess it is the norm here because it isn't an uncommon thing for sellers here to ask you “May I help you?” followed by “How is your family?”. And it was at the moment of thoughts that my half dozen chicken Momo and half dozen buffalo Momo found its way to my table, leaving a trail of steam in the atmosphere. Frankly it wasn’t love at first bite because having tasted treats that looks like it has sort of gave me the impression that it tasted weird but most probably it was the insane amount of Tibetan yak cheese and curd inside. But as the dozen of Momo makes it way down me and got acquainted with my tummy, I was beginning to get pass the taste and as a matter of fact I was starting to fell insanely in love with it. Now having Momo feels like a halfway blessing that I do not deserve. [I really gotta steal the recipe to the best Momo in town]

Thanks to Rabin & Nazzz for mentioning that I shouldn’t miss out eating Momo; now every time I see steam rising from the streets, my senses would sharpen like a bloodhound and my Momo-lust would take over as I scout the surroundings for the stall that is selling this mouth watering treat. I know I shouldn’t be having street food yet as I just recovered from diarrhea, but I have became somewhat a Momo junkie. So screw the sickness because Momo has robbed me of my sanity and I just couldn’t go a meal without it as long as I am in Nepal. I know I should be gaining weight but what concerns me is that what if I lose control and ate too much and end up looking like a Momo.


Damn you malevolent Momo!

The Fucking Cook

playing on my iPod:
The World That I Know - Collective Soul

It is a rare thing these days if you don't find me having a fucking hangover on a Sunday Morning or any other mornings; it is even a rare sight to be seeing me seated in the front row of a church that is filled with the smell of old folks on a fucking Sunday morning. Listening to the morning sermon about what the Holy fucking Bible has to say about adulterer and adulteress and what the act of fornication will do to corrupt your fucking soul. Sticks and fucking stones may break my fucking bones but a mere sermon about fornication, didn't ever give me a slight tingle. I am so fucking dead and numb to all the shit and fucks that the Holy fucking Bible has to say. There is no point rubbing that shit in my face, just let it go, I can't be saved.

I didn't break the minister's face that day and no I am not temporary insane for coming to church. I was at church on this glorious fucked up Sunday morning because I was involved with a new social service for the elderly folks in Kuantan and there was a meeting here today. There are a number of old folks who has no children and are living all alone. Even though welfare charity can give them money to buy food and clothing but they still have to do their daily chores in order to live. That is where we come in; I prefer to be called a cook than a fucking maid because cooking meals and doing minimum cleaning work around these old folk's houses is what I do. You see this new social program is to identify the needy old folks and then send someone to fix them meals and do some house chores because some of these old folks are sickly and live in condition that are way below human standards. They don't have much money too, whatever riches they have they carry it in their wallet or hand bags or Milo tin cans. I might have given up on my own fucking life but these people hasn't and I guess I should try to do whatever I can to make them feel more comfortable and feel that they are not forgotten and not desolated. I don't really see a problem using up a couple of hours of my pathetic day to go to these folks house, cook for them and do a little cleaning up for them. I can definitely use some of my time that I waste on getting drunk, to do something to help these folks and in process brush up on my cooking skills. Don't worry I won't poison any of these old folks because if I were to poison the food, I would rather eat it myself than letting them have the pleasure of dying. Besides, before preparing their meals, I had to obtain their health record and then consult a nutritionist, so that I can carefully prepare their menu. After a couple of days of practice and coming up with some dishes, it was show time today.

I am not doing all these just because I want to secure a fucking place in heaven or am I trying to find my way back to God's fucking good grace. I am doing this because as fucked up as my life is already is, I rather not have others suffer as I do. So If ever a minute God thinks that this motherfucking prodigal son has return, I am ready to drop down on my fucking knees and burn joss sticks to a idol that resembles a 300 pound bald guy or I would get naked, kill a goat and then use its blood to draw a pentagram or better yet cut off my dick's foreskin, give up eating pork and practice polygamy. For the fucking record, I believe in God but I don's love him enough to go back to him because when I am dead there is gonna be a spot in hell with my name burned on it.

The Fucking Dishes:

the xniquet-wiki articles for this post:

Babi Betul
Clay Pot Chicken Rice aka Nga Poh Fun
Cowboy Style Spicy Vegetables and Egg
Fucking Chicken Rice
Fucking Herbal Chicken
Mixed Herbs Creamed Spaghetti
Onion and Potato Soup
Paprika Chicken with Vegetables
Roasted Chicken
Steam Chinese Cabbage
Steam Eggs with Bean Curd

"hand me the keys, you fucking cocksucker"

I said it once but I am going to say it again, Cheeseburger Eddy is so old school. He still owns a perfectly functional Laser Disc player and he has like a couple dozen of Laser Disc in his collection. I mean if you go the national museum of Science here, I bet you could find the exact model which Eddy has here. Lisa for one who is just 19 this year has sure hell never seen or heard what a Laser Disc is, that is why owing to Eddy’s spirit of keep this piece of technology alive, Lisa and I decided to watch a late night movie at home and try to sleep in late. Cheeseburger Eddy has got lots of action movies (mostly Bruce Willis –The Last Boy Scout, Hudson Hawk and all his Die Hard craps)of which wasn’t suitable for us to watch at this time of the night because it would be too loud. So we decided to watch The Usual Suspect instead. I have watched it before but totally forgotten what the story is about but I knew it was a good show. The only part I remembered about the show was when the all the main actors was line up and was supposed to say “ Hand me the fucking keys, you fucking cocksucker!”, which I thought was the most memorable line in the show. And fuck it now I remember why Laser Disc is deader than dead now, because half way into the show , you have to get your ass up and flip the fucking disc to continue on with the show and not to mentioned the Laser Disc is fucking heavy. After the show we sleep in late, at least Lisa did. I couldn’t so I decided to get my ass up and make her some breakfast. So this is what I came up with. Frankfurters, zucchini, carrot and ham wrapped in no crust bread, then dipped in egg and coated with crushed oath meals and fried and Served with cheese squeeze from a tube that looks like toothpaste.





xniquet-wiki article available - Recipe for Ham Bread Roll

When I Grow up, I wanna be a Hooters Girl

I still couldn’t get through to Lisa, is the fucking Maxis line in Kuantan down or the whole fucking Malaysia? And I am still feeling like crap. I thought I could shake this feeling off by going to KFC. You know cheesey wedges and dinner plates used to work their magic on me and a bucket of KFC would simply put me in a euphoric state. But you know what it ain’t working. I had mood poisoning the whole fucking day. The sound of the no connection tone is just killing me. Fuck…but you know what, a miracle happened at dinner. I never thought I said this but something other than KFC cured me of this blues and it has got a name. It is called HOOTERS. I can’t really say anything about food because I forgotten how it tasted but I tell you the service here is superb. Hallelujah I am cured from my mood poisoning. Hooters have just made me a believer. I love Hooters

Dear Hooters God,

Please cum to Malaysia and serve us those yummy hot wings to us famished Malaysian guys and I sure hell hope you won’t change that uniform policy. If our stupid government gives you trouble about your policies and code of dressing, slide RM50 under the table and tell them besides the uniform you will throw in a “tudung” (veil) for the Malay ladies who wants to be a Hooter girl. I know you want to spread joy to the people in Malaysia too right (particularly the guys)? I pray all these in the great big Hooters name.

In Hooter Girls I trust.

Amen

A Hooters Addict



For those who doesn’t know what Hooters is:

Hooters is the trade name of two privately held American restaurant chains. Hooters targets male customers with a serving staff comprising only waitresses (Hooters Girl)

For those who doesn’t know what Hooters Girls are:

A Hooters Girl is a waitress employed by the Hooters restaurant chain. They are instantly recognizable by their uniform of a white tank top with the Hooters owl logo and the location name on the front paired with the famously short orange runner's shorts. Originally, the shirts were white cotton, pulled tight and knotted in the back to emphasize the breasts.

Before becoming a Hooters Girl:
They are required to sign that they "acknowledge and affirm" the following:
-My job duties require I wear the designated Hooters Girl uniform.
-My job duties require that I interact with and entertain the customers.
-The Hooters concept is based on female sex appeal and the work environment is one in which joking and sexual innuendo based on female sex appeal is commonplace.
-I do not find my job duties, uniform requirements, or work environment to be offensive, intimidating, hostile, or unwelcome.

source: Wikipedia and smoking guns

stab me with shrimp's tail if you want me dead

While Superman gets that cool green shit we call Kryptonite as his weakness, I am stuck with shrimps, shrimp shells to be exact. Just how dumb can it be to have Shrimp shells as your Kryptonite? You might be thinking that there are a lot of people who are allergic to seafood and shrimp, they just get rashes and irritation after they eat shrimps and yeah all these while to me, every time my lips touches shrimp shell it will instantly turn into a fat lip which will put Angelina Jolie to shame. To be frank, I have given up on eating shrimps since the day I found out that my lips couldn’t come into contact with its shell. You might be thinking that you could remove the shell, yeah you are right but I am just too lazy to do so. I rather not have any shrimp; it’s no big deal because I don’t really like it anyway. Just the other day, a whole new revelation was revealed to me when I took out some shrimps from the freezer and accidentally got poked in my thumb by a prawn’s tail. The hole was so bloody small, but there was blood. I was alright at first and was able to turn the prawns into what they were supposed to be on that day - Seafood pizza. As usually I didn’t eat any prawns, so no fat lips but all hell broke loose at night. I had a bloody high fever and my thumb felt like it was on fire and it was falling off. It was bad enough for me, that I had to head to the hospital to get a jab in the middle of the night. I am alright now. I know my guests in December love prawns therefore I gotta be more careful when I am handling prawns from now. So now you know, if you wanna kill me, all you need to do is stab me with a prawns tail and you will see me swimming with the fishes.


Updates: this is how my thumb looks like now, see that microscopic hole that nearly kill me, it is swollen and my skin started to peeled too, damnit. I think I am going to call Lisa and tell her I got a bad thumb and I am going to die soon if she doesn’t come over and pamper me, yayy!yayy!yayy! yayy!yayy!yayy! yayy!yayy!yayy!

My Fetish for Kim Chi

When my Mum and Miss Long Legs decided to make Kim Chi, hell got frozen over... more pictures here:

instant noodles with Kim Chi
porridge with Kim Chi
pasta with Kim Chi
Kim Chi sandwich
curry noodles with Kim Chi
Kim Chi pizza
Petai with Kim Chi
Kim Chi dessert

wordless wednesday: when worlds collide

This is what you get for having 2 ladies in your life reading your blog post about how fat you are. A fusion breakfast. Special thanks to Lisa for the 1/2 dozen big apple donuts and MLL for the lotus soup.

RATE ME


heaven





hell