
Dirty Old Man

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.
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.
Do You Feel Love: Man Juice & Moist Vagina

I feel like I’m severed from the Trinity because I’m here, all alone in Cherating and I anticipate two days of body surfing and partying the night away.
House moving business is similar to hard labor; I really need a break but I still got a shit load of boxes to unpack and tons of rearranging work to do, but that can wait. You know, its funny how our bodies tend to react to unfamiliar places. Even when you are dead tired, you still find it hard to sleep; the new house, new room and new surroundings just somehow fucks up the program. Enough of the house moving, talking about it makes me feel tired; that is why I'm in Cherating, 45km away from my current house.
Monsoon time is upon us, it’s raining like there’s no tomorrow; the news has warned the people here to braced themselves for a really wet season but we surfers know what the fuck that really means. The red flag is raised, the current is brutal yet this is the best time to surf. You know, with the red flag raised, the local authorities here wouldn't stop you from going into the sea but they reserved the right to say it straight to your rotting corpse when they fish you outta the sea…
‘We fucking told you so'
But still, surfers waited all year long for this because monsoon season is when the sea awakes, it’s time to step on liquid and ride the Big Kahuna. I'll spare you the surfing stories because I'm saving it when the monsoon is over, so that I can rub it in the other surfer's face for not being here right now.
"It happened at night…
…when most of us surfers partied at a local bar. I met this girl along with some of her friends. They were young, wild and daring and I guess horny as well. If you eye them long enough on the dance floor and if they liked the way you looked at them, they would come over and give you a good rub down with their bodies. I know this because that night, I was at the receiving end. But this one girl amongst them; bob style, tanned, bare bone thin yet voluptuous, had this certain charm to her; I don't know why, but every time I look at her, wild thoughts escapes. Then again, it could be the two love scud hanging on her chest, like ripe melon waiting to be pluck.
As the night grew, traces of alcohol slithers inside our veins, she was all over me or was it, I was all over her but to be on the safe side, let's just say we were all over each other. All I know is I was busy checking out the Braille underneath her brassier, trying to twist the knob while she was trying to gain a handle on my night club. I don’t really have to paint you a picture of that moment because I am sure you damn well know what would happen, when you fill up a fucker whose man juice tank is almost overflowing and a walking, talking & dancing moist vagina with alcohol and then put them in a place with minimum lighting…
[to be continue]
Man's Age & Woman's Breast

I'm not really back from my hiatus, but since I have some fucking time to kill, so here are some random thoughts...
Everyone fucking knows that as you grow old, your needs changes in every aspect. From your daily food intake to your religious faith to your sexual needs. Things that once satisfy you doesn't even leave a fucking dent on you right now. I am fucking sure all you drug junkie knows what I'm talking about.
I remember in Sunday school, all it fucking took was the story about Jesus walking on water to make me a believer; but right now, even if Jesus was standing in front of me, I would go, ”I don't dig your salvation plan, so what the deal, bitch? Where's the fucking fine print?”
Remember the time when you started dating? All it took was a bunch of roses and a stroll in the park to make her feel on top of the world. But now, if it is anything less than Tiffany’s & co., it'll be hitting the cold showers or hell to pay later. I guess when we aged, our container gets bigger and it needs a shitload more to fill it up before we are satisfied.
I think you all know where I am getting at but when I started penning this down, I was going to write about changes but not these types of changes. You see, I was having coffee this morning and I happened to be sandwiched in between two groups of guys. On my left, guys about my age and on my right middle aged uncles. They were having their own conversations but both the topics were the same - women.
The younger group of guys was talking about how they wanna fuck slim model-like girls with long legs & perky breast while the older generation said that they couldn't care less about how the girls look as long as they have melon breasts, they'll fuck it; which led me to a conclusion there is a correlation between a man's age and a woman's breast size. The older a guy gets, the bigger the woman's breast they want.
Don't fucking believe me, next time if you see an dirty old man checking out chics, look where their eyes are staring. I m fucking sure it's the breast and I’m sure they the breast that they are checking out is at least rock melon size.
Schools, Mondays & Hot Hoochie Mommas
The Fuck Up Post
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You know sometimes I am fucking proud of my natural aptitude and tomfoolery in getting myself into fuck up situations which most people wouldn't even dream of. Like surviving on 3 cans of Pringles and 3 litters of Pepsi for a whole week (different flavors of course); arguing with a transvestite after groping it's fuck up breast and not paying for it because it didn't feel like what it said it was supposed to (I am not cheap but I ain't gonna pay if I fucking get rip off); jumping down an unfamiliar downhill course without any fucking brakes; my illicit amour with a newly married women that lasted for more than a year and my personal favorite - puking all over two ladies who were giving me head.
If you have been following this blog, you will know the level of forthrightness that I share with my readers. Even though I have been steadily losing readers because of my disregard to the feelings and disrespectfulness to institution of beliefs and order, yet with my head held high I am still proud to say that I am not a fucking pseudo trying to win your approval by sugar coating the truth. I am what I am and I don't not need someone to tell me what I can say and cannot say. So to the newly appointed Information, Communications, and Culture Minister of Malaysia – Rais Yatim – with much honor, I would gladly pull down my pants and bend over , so that you can fucking kiss my hairy ass if you think you can put a muzzle on me. You can't mute me motherfucker!
Sorry for the side track but I had to get it off my fucking chest. As I was saying, I am not fucking ashamed of what I did because fucking up is a fucking part of my life. I believe that by accepting the fact that I am all fucked up and letting it out for the world to see or read, I am able to learn from my past fucking up and be less fucked up in the fucking future of my fuck up existence.
But not today, somehow I am just not in the fucking mood to explicitly explain my fuck up moment. But I 'll give you some clues on how the fuck this fuck up incident fucking happened.
It fucking involves: KFC in the car - greasy fingers - using the palm to shift gear - thinking that I have fucking shifted into reverse gear - turning my head back - car moving forward instead.
Colitis the Titan Bane
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When you wake up feeling like a senile old fart in the morning; every fucking inch of your corpse-like body is covered with searing torment; You can hardly scrape your lifeless ass off the bed; you fucking know that you are fucking-ly fucked up beyond fucking fuck ups. Once again I had to fucking learned it the hard way; feeling like an impenetrable colossus after I have taken all my Hepatitis shots from A to Z, I was fucking invincible as a fucking titan (which of course was nothing more than a state of mind). I thought I wanted to give my new and improved body immunity a trial run before I head to the land of diarrhea, so I headed to the dirtiest food stall and start to binge whatever filth they have to offer there.
Look at this high tech piece of fucking water dispenser. If you fucking order a glass of iced water, this is where they fucking get the water from… Fuck this crap; I cannot begin to imagine where they fucking keep the ice. You know, I cannot start to image how it is going to be like in India because all I know is that this place right here is consider super clean compared to the places in India.
If you are wondering how am I right now? I must say I am pretty fine, except for all the puking and purging. I have been commuting every 10 minutes from my bed to the toilet for the last 12 hours. So right now, I am official crowned the King of the Crapping throne (toilet bowl). Hell no, Zeus isn't the bane of the Titans, Colitis is.
Family Bizness
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Just 2 days after the Chinese tradition of grave spring cleaning at my parents' home town - Kemaman. I had to once again drive back there because my grand uncle was moving. He was moving to a nice spot at the upper side of the hills and his address was six feet under.
Have your parents ever make a threat when you were a kid, saying that if you are naughty they are going to let the big black “Keling” (Indian) guy take you home? I got it most of the time when I was just being a pain in the ass; kicking, screaming and rolling on the ground inside the departmental store because my parents didn't wanna get me a set of Lego. But as soon as some pitch black “Keling “ pass by us, my dad could sense my consternation and all he had to do was point towards him and I will automatically shut the hell up. I mean which fucking kid would wanna be brought home by some foul smelling black Indian troglodyte. I think that this is probably one of the many ways Chinese parents flex their muscle to keep their children in line; racist yet effective. I wonder if the Indians say this to their kids when they are fucking pestering them…
Parents giving away their kids may sound absurd but a couple generations back. It was a general practice in small places, just like this small town of Kemaman. People were poor and they would do anything to give their kids a better life, even if it means giving away kids to some better off families. Some of them even practice the barter system. You see, when one family wants to have a girl in the family because they are blessed with just too much dicks in the family, they would exchange the boy with a family who is abundantly overflowing with vaginas at home and is in need of some testosterone. And this doesn't just goes with one race, the exchange takes place even between families of different races. I have yet to confirm a Chinese and Indian transaction. I guess Chinese-Indian transaction is just too cruel for the kid and it would be like a nightmare come true.
Don't believe me? I got proof. Because out of the 4 daughters of my grand uncle, two of them are Muslim. So what? They may have embrace Islam and have their named changed. Well, that true for one of them; the youngest, who elope with a funky smelling Malay guy right after her SPM. But it wasn't for the case for his third daughter, who was also my aunty which I met the first time today. She was given away by my uncle 46 years ago to a Malay family and today was the first time that she came back. Standing there all dressed in a corn flower Malay traditional dress and a white tudung(veil). Everything about her emanates “I am a fucking Malay”, but the only thing that gave her away was her looks. Standing beside my other aunties, how can anyone argue that they were not sisters.
It was one of those really dramatic funerals, the sky was dark and gloomy and it drizzles and occasionally poured. And when they lowered the caskets it rained down so fucking hard, the ground we stood almost gave in. It was almost like one of them scene from a movie when the hero's master dies and the hero vowed for revenged kinda setting. But of course, my uncle lived a good life and died of old age.
They say that death torn families apart, but I am not entirely too sure about that, because today I saw a family being brought back together. I may have lost an grand uncle today but I have gained a new aunty.
If you are still skeptical about this whole kid giveaway thing, here's a living proof. About 100 years ago, a rich lady from China came to Kemaman with 2 children, a girl and a boy. The little girl grew up but could never give birth to any children of her own. But at towards the end of her life, she had two daughters and a son. Her eldest daughter had a son that many have come to know this fucker as x.
A Vagabond off to India
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State of mind: Binge, Re-gorge & Purge
Location: Home
First and fucking foremost, this is just a fucking short update...
And so my fucking friends, in less than 3 weeks, I will be on my fucking way to India to fucking lead a bohemian life style. I got my fucking visa and tickets; my dog will be very well taken care of because Jane has promised come back as often as she can; all my office work is fucking settled (what work?). In my fucking absence my co-workers will be taking turns filling my shoes as the fucking cook; My new HP mini has just arrived (it sucks but I really need to travel light), so hopefully I can update as I move from places to places; I got my travel plan of how I am going to ramble like a homeless cat around India for 5 long weeks to fucking quench this wanderlust demon in me. My motherfucking backpack is ready and it will fucking start from:
But one last thing that I need to do is get my stomach ready for India. You know the one thing that everyone gets (whether you like it or not) from India is the fucking diarrhea. I just talked to Bobo the other day and she told me that her sister actually turned green during her stay in India. I gotta admit that of late I am not that very strong in the stomach. As a matter of fact I am a softie when it comes to that. Since coming back here, I haven't been eating food from the roadside stalls or night market. Heck, I hardly eat out. Thus making me almost 99% certain that I am going to get the looseness of the bowels and I am going to get it real bad. But right now, I am 110% sure because I am having a shitting my ass off after I consume a new product from the night market. It is call a coconut shake. Coconut shake is basically any kind of drink with an added dash of coconut milk. I was told not to but...
So now I am in the process of fucking recovering from my purging disease but what I really need is to strengthen my fucking stomach before I head to land where diarrhea is abundant and free. That is why besides taking Bobo's advice of taking every goddamn immunity jab and Tzyy Ling's advice of packing a medicine cabinet into my luggage, I need to fucking fortified my stomach into a fucking garbage processor, so that I can take in whatever shit they fucking serve there. They say that the more you fucking recover from food poisoning the less venerable you fucking become. So here's my fucking game plan: to get as sick as much as possible from food poisoning, recover and get stronger from it before I leave.
I know it will be over dramatic to eat rotten food or food that I pick up from the ground or trash can; but thanks to the local city council here, they have this cleanliness rating system for restaurants. “A” being really clean and “C” being dirty. So my mission for these 3 weeks before I leave is to dine as much as I can in these “C” class restaurants or maybe even a “D”. I haven't fucking seen a “D” yet but I am guessing it means fucking filthy. You know what, if it is really that filthy, what is difference from eating outta a trash can? Anyways, if anyone is interested in turning their stomach into steel, you can always join me.
I know 3 weeks is still a long way to go but I am already excited. I just can't fucking wait to go to a fucking place where people worships livestock and elephants as deities.
Anyway, I am still glued to my TV watching 怪谈(some Hong Kong paranormal talk show) that Jane has recorded for me on HD. This shit is fucking addictive and not to mention spooky which is totally to my liking. It's one of them show that after you watched it, you will get all nyctophobia and shit and all you wanna do is sleep with one eye open while gripping your fucking pillow tight. (Alright I admit the last part of the sentence is a rip off from "Enter Sandman" :P)
Ok, so this wasn't a short update after all..my bad.
Cynical Fuck
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[download]
State of mind: Destructive
Location: Home Gym

Why the fuck should I bother being “creatively inventful” when whatever the fuck I think of, some motherfucker has done it first. What is the fucking use of working my ass off like a human powered hearse when I fucking know that I will be off spending on things that I can't bring along when I am dead? It is sad but true, this is just another line written on this fucked up post in my pathetic and non-existence blog.
[I sit here frozen in motion listening to the sound of crickets playing in my head's built-in iPod (it plays video too but only when I close my eyes). After a long pause... ]
Hey you know what…
And so it finally happened, I woke up this morning and now I ain't worth nothing but a Cynical Fuck. You know it doesn't take much to be as cynical as me.
... to go with it and you will be a Cynical Fuck like me in no time.
[I sit here comfortably dumb thinking it must be that I missed my medication last night for feeling what I fucking feel right now.]