Echoes of a Deranged world

        YoyoYoyOyo wazzup dudes and duddetes of the world????!!!!!( im refering to all u nice ppl hu are actually taking 5 minutes out of your day to actually read this crap…oops, i mean work of modern day literature,lol) Sorry for being MIA for so long but i just didnt have any sort of persistence,initiative or kerajinan to blog,haha, but im CHINESE, its normal!!! LOL (braces for the incoming of projectile thrown rotten cabbages and shouts of racial slur)hahaha.

         Anyway, i decided to start blogging again about happy thoughts, funny,albeit weird and interesting incidents, not to mention a generous dose of kutuking all things cina( yes, its a passion of mine, so sue me =P) hahaha,because after reading through some seriously morbid and depressing blogs(Is it just me or is 80% of the blog content out there dark and depressing?) lol, and i want to read something which doesnt involve self inflicted pain or serious discussions about global warming( i think that has something to do with the earth getting a fever or something,lol), if you’re reading this, its a strictly non-emo, non-*^%$#%* sanctioned blog, AND another reason why i chose to start blogging again is because a special person gave me a subtle push, lol.

           So i shall start this blog entry with an update on my life (here comes the boring part ladies and gents, you might wanna get ur pillows and your favourite blankies which you have been having since you were a little toddler with you,lol)

            Im now a mass comm undergraduate at USM, yeap Ulu Sial Monyet,  and working my way to becoming an overgraduate,haha (hmmm…if you didnt get that, then it seems my lame humour muscles still are kind of rusty,haha) Anyway, i have been here in Penang for about 4 months now and the semester is over so im going back to Ipoh. Alritey then, catch you folks the at the end of next semester…Ciao ( Told you im bonafidely chinese ;p) hahahahahha

   G’day folks…this is my 1st entry of the year, after a 5 month hiatus. I know, I know…some of you are going ‘YAY!!!! HE’S BACK!!!", while others are going… "OH DARN, WHY IS HE BACK?!!!". For the former, thank you for your support (although you must have lots of free time on your hands to be actually reading a blog),LOL. To the latter…well, @#@$#^%%$%#@!!!!!! (if you’re now going, "GASP!!!how could you curse on a public blog???", well then, this goes to show what pessimistic and nasty minds you have!!!haha) what i meant by those symbols of ‘love’ are …"God bless you and your family…". Anyway, moving on from that intro which served no purpose whatsoever to enhance the subject matter written in the title, I shall be pleased to tell you of a place of which i have visited for probably the 2nd time in my entire life…a place so vile yet surprisingly calm, a place of which birds dun fly free but are chopped into pieces and bargained to a mere rm8 per kilo…..yes dear readers, i’m referring to ….*musical accompaniment for added atmosphere* ……THE WET MARKET.

       "Gary, instead of going to the supermarket, today we’ll be going to the wet market in Pasir Pinji to buy our groceries…", said my mom in a matter of fact manner.

           " But why??? its so gross  and smelly la that place", replied yours truly, albeit in a  cool and collected manner of course.(HEY YOU!!!STOP LAUGHING!)

            " Its a good experience , and things there are more fresher", went on my mother without taking a single notice to my ‘cool and collected’ complaint.

              Fast forward to the Wetmarket. I stood there with eyes opened as I saw in amusement at one corner a whole array of stalls selling freshly slaughtered pigs, while just across them was a stall selling cheap clothing for RM5 a piece…you know, those ‘hideous looking’ Power rangers and Ultraman kids clothing, with Ultraman painted purple and green instead of the  signature red and white…absolutely hideous…and can you imagine the smells and odours of pigs saturating into the very fabric of the clothing????? Thinking that would have been the most oddest thing i would have seen in the market, i was totally blown away by what i saw(and heard) a few steps on from that ‘pork smelling clothes stand’.

            Now,my cantonese may not be on par with the literary scholars of the Confucian era, but it was unmistakable that i heard the hawkers who were selling their assorted items of vegetables and meat having conversations with their customers and other traders with sentences peppered with references to everybody’s father, mother, etc etc… and of course the all famous, woman’s lower region!. I asked my father immediately why did they all speak like that and he replied in an insightful manner…"only in the cantonese dialect can you hear all this ‘terms of endearment’"….Needless to say, i burst out laughing with a thought running through my mind. If the English language were to adopt such terms of endearments, we would break the ice with strangers and each other by simply saying " You have on a nice dress today, YOUR FATHER!!!", or another example, " Oh come on, don’t be so glum, YOUR MOTHER’S LOWER REGION!"……

            At first, I thought that this manner of speaking was rather barbaric, rude and downright primitive but by observing how the Hawkers, traders and customers were jovially laughing and going about their usual business…it dawned upon me…that hey, maybe if i spoke to them in a prim and proper manner, they would look at me as the one being barbaric,rude and primitive!

            Coming out from that wetmarket has taught me one thing(with the help of my parents of course) . Sometimes we judge places and people with what we perceive them to be in our minds…based on our own biased mindsets, when the actual truth is they aren’t so bad. A good example was what my father told me when i related all of this to him….He said," You think that the wetmarket place is dirty and smelly? Have you seen and smelt your room lately?" … Indeed I laughed but also acknowledged that there was much truth in that….

Adventures of a Banana: 2007: The New Life

          I regret to inform you that Orangey Snicket (the writer for the series of misfortunate events) has been forced into retirement due to depression. He actually took a pair of baby pacifiers and started sucking them to death ( How did he intend to kill himself with baby pacifiers still remains a mystery). Well, after a long absence and hiatus on my part due to Mr Snicket exposing some of my childhood tragedies ( thank God it was only ‘some’), I shall begin on my next series of chronicles, the adventures of a Banana.

          Our tale starts a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…(sounds clichéd doesn’t it)…okok, bordering on the line of lameness, I know. Well, if you’re not happy with it, read another Blog then!

          Actually it was more like 3 days ago, in a little kampung called

Kuala Lumpur

…..

          “Doctor, doctor, our test subject is ready for final phase initiation…”, declared a lab technician calmly.

          “Proceed with final phase initiation on my mark, 3….2….1….INITIATE”, ordered the doctor with a composed and authoritive tone. This was met with a pause of silence. “ I SAID INITIATE!!”, shouted the doctor as he noticed his lab technician busy watching an Oprah Winfrey rerun on his cellphone.

          “Sorry doctor, Project Banana initiated….”, replied the lab technician as he fiddled with a few knobs and punched on a few buttons(while thinking to himself, I sure hope this works, this is totally different then making Ramly burgers )

          As the 6 foot tube incubator started to whir and create sounds( which resembled the tune to one of those Kiki-Lala commercials), the doctor spoke aloud in a triumphant voice saying,

“ Finally the time has come for our project to step out into the world, and finally its time for us to rule the world!!!!! Muahahahha…ack…ack”, paused the doctor as he took a breath of his respirator.

          “ But doctor, what about your other failed experiments, such as the Powerpuff girls?”, asked another technician.

          “They were made with sugar, spice and everything nice, doesn’t that sound more like a cheese cake formula rather than a world domination one?”, replied the doctor.

          “But then, what about Osama Bin Laden?”, asked another technician.

         “Oh , he had too much hair and his vocabulary was limited to Jihad Jihad”, replied the doctor as he looked up at them and continued, “How dare you question me, you fools!!!” .

          Just as the doctor was about to perform an act of discipline upon his subordinates( ala Darth Vader ), the tube incubator stopped and its front latch opened to expose the specimen which it was holding inside….which could only prompt the doctor to say,

          “Oh my goodness, in all my years I haven’t seen something so….

TO BE CONTINUED

Note from the editor:

Exams are finally over, so its time to finally resume BLOGGING ( which is another word for boring the living daylights out of you people who have nothing better to do but sit in front of your computer and read whatever crap is written on this page…go out and enjoy some fresh air!!!! …..huh?,  ARE YOU STILL READING THIS??? What is wrong with you???? . Oh well, alright, I’ll continue to entertain you with MORE

1)     Moronic farting jokes

2)     Lame Humour

3)     Useless observations and opinions

4)     Mindless offensive insults

And finally, good, wholesome, clean fun for all your family and friends to enjoy.

Hey, if you’re still here reading this….then, you must constitute 2% of society which is eligible to join my exclusive club… SOCIAL OUTCASTS INC…(current membership, 1 )

Anyway, be on the look out for the beginning of the Adventures of a Banana series, which will be debuting in a few weeks…Till then, (oh my goodness, I still can’t believe you’re actually still reading)….goodbye and Merry Christmas.

     As the lorry driver got out of his lorry and stared at the blood drenched body of 12 year old Gary, analyzing the tattered clothes and the generous amount of blood spewed all over the road…he asked "Wei, U ok ar??"

      Gary then reacted to the question by turning his fazed gaze back at the driver, with sheer determinationall he managed to see the face of the driver who tried genuinely to give a look of concern… but all the driver ended up giving was a look which meant something like, "What the *%$#^&*" - insert a few choice ‘chinese’ words and voila! You have a clear picture of the situation.

      Although frustrated, the driver still played the role of a good samaritan and brought little( HAHA…yeah, little) Gary to the hospital.

      At the hospital the doctors then had

Gary

X-rayed (where they did find a rather miniscule chunk of greyish matter in his head…it turned out to be his brain) and put him through all the neccesary testing required( NO, anal probing wasn’t on the list ,YOU SICK PERV!).

       But all was not well dear reader…

       A few hours later, as Gary was put into the ICU for observation and placed on a life-support machine, the machine suddenly flatlined…and the hospital nurses went into action ( AND NO!!!the nurses weren’t hot chicks…your mind really needs a good washing doesnt it…hmm mm)

       Well, as the nurses started panicking and brought out an array of needles, a machine which looks alot like a mini-bbq and the usual ramblings of "OI, cepat panggil doctor, patient dah ‘flatline’ dah!!!!", the hospital staff went into frantic action…with Gary’s chest being applied with gel to prepare him for shock treatment( yeap, they were trying to jumpstart his heart)…when all of a sudden…

      "Huh? what’s happening?", asked Gary groggily. The staff were at first initially shocked but then after a few moments of awkward silence, the doctor walked over to the life-support machine which was still flatlining and proceeded to check the connection wire, which apparently came loose…and this caused the whole hospital staff on hand to sigh with relief…not because that the life of Gary wasn’t in any immediate danger…but because they avoided getting themselves sued for medical malpractice!!! ( and I think that frying a living boy alive would make a very strong case, dont you think?)

      So once again, Gary avoided getting his butt fried by a medically presitioned tool ( which I would aptly call it the JUMPSTARTER OF DOOM, since I dont have the slightest clue what the machine’s actual name is)….but that was just but the beginning of a series of misfortunate events for our young Gary…

     Sigh, but there is still more to the story, and it pains me to go on any further, so until next time….May the force be with you (please don’t sue me, Mr George Lucas!)

     Aaaahhhh….it pains me to inform you that my bowels are now empty, as there is no more excuse for I, Orangey Snicket to tell you about one of the many disasters plaguing the lives of Gary and his friends. And we shall be off….(imagine me pouring some pixie dust out of your computer and now you are flying like the children in Peter Pan…HEY, i said pixie dust, not some ecstacy pill!!! so stop acting ‘high’ and ’stoned’)

     It was a night just like any other night. The moon was smiling its usual yellowish grin, Eh moon, haven’t you heard of toothpaste before?, and it single handedly hogged the limelight of the stars in the night. The illegal racers were bustling in the city, honking away, signalling to the other drivers, "DEI MACHA, MOVE-LAH!!!! MY GRANDMA DRIVES FASTER THAN YOU!" .

    But alas, dear reader…that has nothing at all to do with our sad, pathetic and humiliating story for today. No dear reader, our story today happened on a cool morning, where the fresh smell of nasi lemak lingers on in the background.

    Our young Gary, a standard 6 pupil, bright and bubbly (not to mention FAT!!! flubbertatious, tub of lard and other fat-insinuating descriptions ) was chatting and playing with his friends on the school bus, enjoying themselves with a little game of "Hey, why don’t we slap the fat kid?", when all of a sudden the bus came to a stop, signalling to Gary that he had reached his destination… anxious but ready to receive his UPSR results on that day. As one of his bus friends gave him a slap on the butt just for good measure, Gary attempted to step off the platform of the bus’ entrance while waving goodbye to his bus friends…not knowing what was awaiting him…

    As the very moment which Gary stepped off that platform, a lorry carrying live chickens with the name of ‘SUZUKI’ emblazoned on its front rammed into Gary, causing him to hurl in the sky like some fat gymnast attmpting to break the world Olympic record and crashing to the ground about 30-50 meters away.How did he survive????

    Simple answer.Because he was FAT( did i mention that earlier? And this is true, because the doctors later told him so in the hospital, but that’s in part 2, so patience…) His bag was in tatters, with books lying all over the road. His clothes were that of the Hulk’s after a mega Gamma transformation. His mind….well, lets just dig into his memory banks and see what went on in there shall we?

" HMmm, chocolate pancakes and a quarter-pound steak for breakfast…mom, i want 4 cubes of sugar in my Milo, thanks"

    Nono, that was earlier in the morning, i apologize, what went on during the accident was …..

" God, i’m coming home, forgive me of my sins as i forgive those who have trespassed against me"

   …..followed by a few sommersaults on the road and  "So this is what the Power Rangers feel like everytime they fly in the air…oooo"

      Dear reader, it pains me to go on any further with this tale of torment and despair. Thus, i shall leave you to purge out my agony and burden as the storyteller of this tale. When i cease to feel the pangs of guilt on my conscience, i shall continue the story….

(which evidently is very soon…SO STAY TUNED, SAME TIME, SAME PLACE ON YOUR FEEL GOOD CHANNEL…people from NTV 7, if you’re reading this, i’m expecting payment for the publicity!!!)

     Good evening( or morning, depending on when you’re reading this…), my name is Orangey Snicket, (you should know my brother…Lemmony, if you don’t, that means you havent been reading enough, so START doing so!!!), and I have taken over Gary’s column on the further study of Craptology and his deranged world.

     Before i reveal to you a tale of an event so misfortunate that it will actually cause you to start finishing your vegetables, start cleaning your room and *GASP*, actually flush the toilet after you’ve finished…as yelow-skinned chinese people would say…SHEE- SHEE…you might want to press the cancel button on this blog and start reading something more comfortable and less gloomy, such as your Sejarah form 4 textbook .

     OH well, it seems that you have ignored the warning given and are brave enough to take upon the insurmountable task of reading the following tales of misfortunate events. Mind you, it is with deep grief fro me to relive the dreadful and dreary experiences of the young boy named Gary and his equally unfortunate sidekick Matthew…it is still not too late for you to turn back….go on….

    Well, ok, suit yourself…

     It all started on a rainy afternoon…*rumble*…. when *rumble* Gary and Matt were….oh my, dear reader, i beg your pardon, but the rumbling that you heard( or read) isnt an added effect of that rainy day but my stomach rumbling trying to force digested food out of my ‘glutinus maximus’…*rumble*…so it is with great despair that i postpone telling you the story by apologizing profusely. On the other hand, its with great relief that i have a brief respite from sharing to you this tale of misfortunate porpotions…so count it as a blessing, dear reader…

OH NO, ITS COMING OUT!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!!!!

(erm, the continuation to the tale that is….what did you think was coming out? hmm mm…)

The Prank Call

        You know, its sometimes, nah! its VERY annoying to be woken up in the middle of the night by the ringing tone of your handphone. Your mind is suddenly yanked away from that dream( we guys all have…yeap, you guessed it, doing stand up comedy in front of a bunch of midgets! ) in the Bahamas with a hot chick and suddenly you realize you are on your bed, drudgingly but dutifully summoned to pick up your handphone and actually having to answer the person from the other line.

        If it was an emergency per say, then adrenaline would kick in and this feeling of annoyance would just surpass. If it was a matter of life and death, then we would be thankful that the person across the line bothered calling us. Unfortunately, if it was a prank call…then let me give you a formulative answer.

Groggy old

Gary

+ now scraped dream with Avril Lavigne+ Annoying polyphonic ringtone = THE HULK (a sarong curyypuff-eating version I guess, minus the muscular bulk)

This is an account of the conversation which transpired that fateful night…(which was about 5 minutes ago from the time of this entry but hey! Doesn’t it sound more dramatic?)

Prank Caller= PCK ( was tempted to insert, Private Limited, best in

Singapore

, JB, and some say

Ipoh

wei)

Gary

=

Gary

(Duh!)

RING RING RING RING(I cant as well type out the ringtone can i>?)

Gary

: Hello??? (groggily with grouchiness)

PCK  : Hello, I’m calling from TC modeling agency and you have been spotted as a potential model…would you be interested? (complete with a faux American accent…which by the way, was pretty good)

Gary

: If this is a prank call, it ain’t funny…

PCK : NONO, I spotted you in Jusco a couple of days ago and you were HOT!!! You are Gary Chong right? I think you are HOT ( Notice how I purposefully capitalize the word HOT?)

Gary

: Oh yeah…when did you see me in Jusco? ( trying to end the conversation as fast as possible…)

PC: Erm, yesterday…nono, the day before yesterday.

Gary

: What agency did you say you were from again?

PC: TC Modelling agency. We are dealing with models like Lina Teoh and so forth. Would you be interested?

Gary

: No

She then went on rambling some things trying to put together a convincing storyline which elude my memory banks right now…finally I decided to let PCK down easy…

Gary

: Erm, sorry but I have exams and stuff. But thanks anyway.

She then either replied “You are adorable” or “You are a dog” and then hung up.

        Alrighty then, now lets do the post mortem on the pathetic attempt at a prank. I’ll put in point form where you went wrong (yeap, this is directed at PCK):

1: Nobody from a modeling agency calls at 11.30 and uses a private handphone number (I was tempted to call PCK back in person and tell her all these mistakes which she made during the prank but… hey, wouldn’t that be embarrassing)

2: I didn’t go to Jusco for the past week and how in the world would you have known my name if you ‘spotted’ me?

3: You were to enthusiastic. In playing a prank, always play it cool.

4: YOU ACTUALLY SAID I WAS HOT!!! (either someone paid you to say this or pointed a gun to your head)

5: Watch more MTV Punk’d and listen up to the Hitz.Fm morning crew’s GOTCHA calls for further lessons in the art of pranking.

        But if indeed you thought I was HOT, for real, you know my number…LOL. In any case, I would have given that prank a 4 out of 10. A recommendable first effort if that was your first. AND PLEASE, no calls after

10.00 p.m.

        HULK HATES PUNY PHONE CALLS AFTER

10 P.M.

HULK BASHES PUNY PERSON WHO CALLS AT THIS TIME. ( Although let it be known that this version of the Hulk has an anti-violence policy and would rather play with butterflies and run along the beach, eating hot currypuffs.)

The Draft

        Did you people not read the previous disclaimer properly? Because I’ve been thrown with fresh fruit ever since my last entry and indeed that has deterred me from writing in my blog, you know, due to the neurological traumatic implications ( Bruises in the head the size of miniature golf balls , bloated lips… NO, I don’t  look anything like Angelina Jolie!!!) , although some might argue that I’ve had all these ‘neurological implications’ for quite some time now….

        Due in partial response to that (and the fact that your comments have dropped from as that of Santa’s wish list to a trickle which would make any person whimper to a dark secluded corner and start talking to a volleyball called ‘Wilson’), the Perceptions of Romance will be put on an indefinite hiatus and a new series will be starting…simply titled ‘Adventures of a Banana’.

        *Characters portrayed in this series do actually exist but have given me the thumbs up to use them ( USE THEM…MUAHAHAHA, insert evil, malicious laughter) for the purpose of your literary escapades.

        Unfortunately, because of my lack of friends overall ( Hey, I am the vice president of the Social Outcast club you know… its tough, but somebody has gotta do it) and also because I lack the psychic abilities of probing your minds to find out if you are willing to give me the thumbs up in inserting YOU, dear reader as a character in the following series, I’ve drafted up a contractual agreement…and if you would so sign, by posting a comment with your full name and agreement keyword which goes something like… FROM TODAY, I’LL BE KNOW AS PRIVATE BANANA (insert your name)…

        Dear Gary,

I hereby agree to be used as a character in your upcoming series, “Adventures of a Banana” and I hereby give you the privilege of greatly exaggerating my character in a humorous, parodius manner. I also agree that in no way whatsoever will I beat the living daylights out of you if you make fun of me or treat my character with as much dignity as that of (insert your own negative comparison). I also agree to not come after you and ask for any money, cash, moolah , or anything worth more than 10 sen.

Sincerely,

………….

(Insert your name)

       Thank you for your co-operation and so begins the adventure….(darn, I forgot that I don’t have any characters yet)

Perceptions of Romance Part 4: What about The Bad Guys?

        You know, in probably every single romance novel, movie or story, the protagonist( who lets assume is the guy) will end up with the girl…after a completing a massive task and the girl, likened to the prize or in a more insensitive manner, the spoils of war.

MAINSTREAM ROMANCE FORMULA:

1) Insert geek/nerd/jock-who actually is a nerd inside but is ‘sensitive’.(PROTAGONIST)

2) And then insert the desirable-but misunderstood-cheerleader/ damsel in distress, etc…(any pretty girl will do…yup guys, you can start imagining now…hmm mm)

3) Then, insert insensitive jerk boyfriend of the said girl. (THE BAD GUY). (portrayed with good looks and a nice toned body but arrogant and snobbish with an evil taste for humour, mostly involving bullying the protagonist)

4) Throw in some insensitive and mean things that the bad guy will do to the protagonist and voila! The girl is instantly attracted to the plight of the protagonist.

5) Thus events will lead to the protagonist riding off with the girl into the sunset, leaving the poor original boyfriend(bad guy) in a state of heartbreak and disappointment.

6) We, the viewers, or readers, or any participants on the receiving end of the mass media, will think that Hey! Wow, that’s a happy ending…the bad guy deserves it!!!

7) We leave the cinema, book, or any form of media mediums with a giddy feeling that the underdog has won the day once again!

        What irks me however is that this formula has been replayed on nearly every romance story and the thing is…I can’t help but wonder if it is a subtle form of stereotyping and discrimination?

        Hear me out, why are the ‘jocks’ always the bad guys? And why do we rally in joy as they are left in a ditch at the end of the day, alone and dissipated?

        Although I’m far from being a ‘jock’( you know, the good looks and toned body part? OKAY!!! You can stop laughing now, you’re just mean, aren’t you?). I still cant help but feel the injustice that the media has chosen to cast these people( who I garner are really deprived emotionally, thus the constant need to bully and undermine others) as the bad guys who deserve to be sided against.

        Let us take a moment to contemplate why in the world do we take these type of people to be villains and not misunderstood victims?

        So I’ll keep it short and sweet this time by offering a public apology to all ‘jocks’ or ‘bad guys’…be it in the movies or real life.

P.S= If the girl ditches you, remember God still loves you!

*For all nerds out there( or social outcasts), let us learn to love and embrace the people who throws us into dumpsters as a form of entertainment, the people who make fun of our extra flab and how funny we look when we start crying like little babies, begging them to stop hitting us….ahhh, nostalgic memories…(but that’s a story for another time, dear reader)