7 Random Facts About Me

Just to clarify something, I was tagged by Xiao Li.

I don't know whether she intended to tag me, since she just wrote 'Alex'. But since it's pre-EOS, and I have practically no life, I shall call forth upon a reinforced epidermis, and just go along with it.

*I'm sorry if it wasn't for me*


Seven (7) Random Facts About Me!!!!!


1. I have a fear of lizards.

omfg....

Scoliodentosaurophobia. An irrational fear against our dear house lizard.. or anything gecko-like. I don't know why, but it has probably something to do with their beady eyes, pale skin and the FREAKIN' PROPENSITY TO DROP OFF WALLS like a free-faller.

Shit, just thinking about it is enough to make my palms sweaty...

*In contrast, I really like iguanas, and the 'bigger' lizards. It's just the small ones that get me*



2. I get cranky when I'm hungry.

'nuff said

3. I'm an Introvert who likes to play Extrovert every once in a while.

I'm not a big fan of public speaking or being the center of attention, or interacting with people, both in crowds and one-on-one.

I'm more of a sit-by-the-fireplace-during-winter-with-a-good-book kinda guy.

At the same time, I relish meeting new people because it feels like a break from my usual routine - which brings us to my next point.



4. I LOVE SPONTANEITY.

Being spontaneous is one of the aspects of life I enjoy the most. That's why, if Malaysian weather wasn't so fickle and abusing, I'd probably spend most of my time WALKING on the streets to various destinations.

It's the journey that matters most, and being in charge of it is BLISS for me.



5. Pole-dancing

I DO like to pole dance. Besides being sensual, it utilizes and trains muscles not routinely used.

*But of course, I've never done it before... I mean... pfftttt... you know me.... I wouldn't do ANYTHING like that.... I'm macho.... yea... macho me....*



6. I'm good at suppressing my gag-reflex.

I eat ANY KIND OF FOOD. My aunt used to feed me food I sometimes absolutely detest, and I had to suppress my urge to VOMIT everytime I ate her meals.

So each time I have something I dislike on my plate, I stuff them into my mouth at one go. Then I close my eyes, and focus on dilating my trachea. Over the years, I've refined my control.



7. I have no definite FAVORITE 'thing'

No favorite colour, no favorite food, no favorite song.

That's why I find it sooo hard to answer profile questions at times. However I feel for something at a certain period of time, it'll momentarily be my favorite thing.




So, I hope this allows you to delve into my somewhat messed by psyche a little further and I hope to be hearing from these people:

May Hwa, Amylene Yap, Hazwan Samian, Cady Chua, Kai Xin and Ren Yi.

You've been officially TAGGED!

Have fun! :)

Simple Minds of Simple Men

Ever wondered why your husband shuts your voice out of his head? Ever pondered over the fact that your children have functioning auditory organs which seem to mysteriously shut down whenever you open your oral cavity to admit waves in the form of compressed air, aka your voice?

Ever contemplate why anyone near-and-dear to you with a Y-chromosome in their genome, never listen to what you have to say?

The answer is simple. Rhetorically and literally.

It all boils down to simplicity. I don't know about you, but I think I speak for most, if not ALL, men.

Simplicity, in any form of verbal communication, is the most effective way of conveying any form of information or instruction. Scientific journals, advertisements, thesauruses, news articles. They all have something to say; and they say it with SIMPLICITY.

Now, simplicity is not equivalent to 'simply'. It does not, in any way or form, attest to being sloppy, deceitful or lacking in the process of communicating. All it does is to condense, corroborate and ratify complex instructions into concise vocabulary snippets. It is unbending, it is direct, it is accurate.

Guys are prone to simplicity, especially within instructional contexts. Orders must be given a direction and must be easily interpreted.

For example, many women like to use the phrase 'Do you want to..?'

'Do you want to wash my car for me?'

'Do you want to sweep the floor later?'

'Do you want to carry the groceries into the house?'

Primarily, these 'Do you want to' sentences are often associated with choice of action for the directed person, and involves a polar answer, indicating the person's inclination towards the task, for example.

However, the aforementioned sentences are disguised instructions. They are orders masked within the pretext of a selective question. They do not convey their messages appropriately, since their answers do not correlate with the jest or intention of the 'askee'.

Let's delve into it further. Take 'Do you want to carry the groceries into the house?'

Now, the directed person has two answers, either a yes or a no. Yes, I want to; or No, I don't want to.

But notice the use of the word 'WANT'. To want is to desire, to feel the need to perform (a duty). In actual fact, the person is being asked 'Do you feel it necessary to take the groceries into the house?'

Now, notice that the use of 'NECESSARY' is not within the context of free will for the questioned person. Instead, it is an extension of the ask-er's desire. Hence, in actual fact the question can be interpreted wholly as:

'Do you want to do as I desire, and take the groceries in?'

And, well. If you are a man, and the person asking was your wife/ mother/ aunt/ sister.

Do you have a choice?

Henceforth, from this small interpretation exercise, we can justify that polar questions involving the use of want in the context of another's extended will, does not equate to a choice of action. Rather, it is a direct order.

Which totally opposes the essence of Simplicity.

So we can see why some men tune out 'requests' for help. They cannot register. Such over-the-top psychological manipulation is either too fine for their bulky radar, or too beneath the conscious wavelength to be actively interpreted.

Simple men, with simple minds, need simple instructions.

Simple?

I Love the Way You Lie

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn,

But it's alright because I like the way it hurts.

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry,

But that's alright because I love the way you lie;

I love the way you lie...

Expectations

To expect is to anticipate, to look forward as due. To expect is to bank your hopes on the possibility of a future that proceeds to your will.

We all know circumstances can't be forcefully molded.

We all know that our actions are only a derivative of the present that accounts for cause, but is independent of outcome.

We all know that.

Then why do we place so much of ourselves into such a shoddy investment? Any money-savvy person; Heck, any money-scrimping middle-aged woman, will tell you, going into a deal without backup, diving headfirst into risk that may or may not end up devastating, but potentially non-beneficial, is just plain stupidity.

Then, why do we expect?

Why do you expect him to call you?
Why do you expect her to help you?
Why does she expect that her expectations will be fulfilled, even when all odds are stacked against her?

Hope? Faith? A belief in the propensity of others to do good, perhaps?

FOOLS.

Fools, fools, fools.

The disgraced father, the disillusioned mother, the disenchanted child. Expectations. The belief that somebody will do good on your due; the anticipation that someone will live up to your sacrifice.

And when your hopes are dashed, your pride wilted, who bears the brunt of your dissatisfaction?

Will you turn your anger against your own folly;

Or will you direct the flames against the skin of one you 'expect' to be?

Think about it, fool.




Therein lies no disappointment with the relinquish of hope.

Paris Hilton Arrested in S.Africa for Drug Possession!!!

PORT ELIZABETH. Port Elizabeth police say they released Paris Hilton and withdrew drugs charges against her after a pet therapist explained to them that Hilton was an "over-bred show-dog with the intellect of a baked bean". Officers recalled that Hilton had soiled the newspaper in her cage and had even been too scared to purge the dinner they had force-fed her.

Weekend newspapers reported that Hilton, the offspring of famous Kentucky Derby winner Soggy Biscuit and a prizewinning Afghan hound called Dipstick 7, was arrested in Port Elizabeth with a friend for smoking marijuana at a World Cup match.

However, police quickly ascertained that Hilton did not have the mental capacity to understand that she had committed a crime.

"When we approached her she rolled on her back," explained arresting officer Pinkerton Mpofu. "That seemed to be her default pose for pretty much every interaction."

He said that she had been deloused and given an attractive floral collar before being led to the police pound, but added that officers had sensed a "profoundly retarded creature" and had taken pity and called animal psychologist Nina Wiener-Scratchensniff.

According to Wiener-Scratchensniff, Hilton was immediately identifiable as a "profoundly and tragically in-bred individual".

"You find these bitches in every pound,? she said. ?Glossy blonde fur, perfectly clipped claws, watery dead eyes without the slightest flicker of character in them, and a brain the size of a peanut."

She said she had urged the police to release Hilton at once, as she posed no danger to anyone but herself.

Meanwhile Hilton is reportedly "like totally awesome" after being reunited with friends and family, whom she described as "like totally aweseome", adding that while her stay in the pound had been "like totally scary", her South African trip had been "like totally awesome".

"It was totally a total misunderstanding,? she explained, while an aide attacked residual intra-intestinal fat deposits with an ultrasonic Fat-Blaster9000 machine.

"Kelli and Crissi were like, 'Hey, PH, let's like go to the soccer?', and I was like, 'Oh my God, what's soccer?' and they were like, 'It's a game?' and I was like, 'Oh my God I totally love games?' and they were like 'Oh really?' and I was like 'Totally?' and they were like 'No way?' and I was like 'Way?' and they were like, 'So do you wanna go see the soccer?' and I was like 'Oh my God, what?s soccer?' and they were like, 'It's a game?' and I was like?I don't remember what I was like because I like totally don't remember like what happened next.?

She said she was looking forward to returning home, although she conceded that she would need her private pilot to "do all that weird-ass map shit", as she had no idea where she was.

"He said Africa was like south-east of Beverley Hills, but I thought that was like Mexico and Iraq," she said.

"Oh well, boring!"




Satirical news adapted from: http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=1&click_id=139&art_id=iol127839348197H100

For real report, here it is.

A Beautiful DIsaster

I just realized, it's been quite awhile since I've written a new post. My lack of inspiration is probably in direct correlation with the extremely dry language I have to accustom myself with when writing a 3000 word essay. Hence, no creative thinking.

Oh yeah, and football.

I guess the only reason I'm writing this post is to buy time as I wait for the match between Espanyol and Paraguay. Btw, Argentina? Totally humiliated. 4-0. It wasn't a loss. It was total trashing.

Anyway, continuing on. This post is probably fodder material. You can read it, you can choose to ignore it. Your call.

Funny thing. As I was lying in bed the other day, thoughts kept swirling around in my head. No, they weren't hypotheses of the Universe's origin, nor were they quantum theories to elaborate upon the time-space continuum and the deliberation of anti-matter.

In fact, I was reminiscing about embarrassing moments I've experienced.

You know what's the funny part? I wasn't embarrassed then.

I remember, when I was... 15 maybe? My friends and I decided to hang out and watch a movie. Everything fine and dandy. *fyi, I still remember the lame shit movie we were FORCED to watch, because tickets for another MORE EXCITING movie was sold out. TREASURE ISLAND. OMG. 2.5 HOURS OF EXTREME TORTURE. That movie makes New Moon seem like a sweaty 10 minute make-out session. It was THAT BAD.*

Fashion is a weird organic contraption. Its evolution sprouts from the seed of creativity, eventually morphing into a briar bush of mortification, while fruits of dignity emerge just to be trampled and degraded back into the very soil which feeds its insensible growth.

Sad to say, thorns of social pressure were embedded in my epidermis, while I wallowed in the hallowed hell of fashion's vegetative state.

Super tight body hugging T-shirt and bell-bottom jeans. Both brown in color. Need I say more?

The worse part is, I THOUGHT I looked DA BOMB. I thought I was sexaaaay, hot, the epitome of fabulosity.

Was I dead wrong.

As I swayed my hips to the beat of mall music, head tilted up, shoulders squared, strutting around like a cock on steroids, I basked in the gaze of strangers. Strangers who, wouldn't give me the time of day on any other given day. Strangers who gave me wide-eyed stares which I mistook for admiration and lust.

*Laugh out loud*

I looked the fool, my dear readers.

Yet it seemed such a good idea at the time. In fact, it seemed... right.

It goes to show that, our actions at present are an expression and indication of our grasp upon our current reality. Clearly, I was pretty out of my 'reality' then. In fact, I think I was high on something...

Oh yeah. High on the presumptous assumption that the world loved me, and ONLY ME.

Gullible, yes. Fallible only if I had much to lose.
I didn't.

I learned an important lesson that night. One which others have taken like fish to water, but to me it's like the tentative steps of a newborn inhaling fresh air, free of its mother's womb.
















Don't EVER wear tight bell-bottom jeans.

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