I suspect that
Lily Liverbird is "doing the deed" with
YAB Datuk Seri Khir Toyo. I also suspect that because of this, she is nervous about what my investigations into his sex life might uncover. Which is why she's evilly tried to distract me by tagging me.
But she won't succeed. Do you hear me, Lily Liverbird? SHOULD I SPEAK IN CAPITAL LETTERS? CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? YOU WON'T SUCCEED IN THWARTING MY INVESTIGATIONS INTO
YAB DATUK SERI KHIR TOYO'S SEX LIFE!
Okay. Now that she gets the picture, I guess I have to respond to the tag. Here it is:
6 Weird Things About The Floating Turd2) I have Fear of Changing Rooms (Quadreflectophobia)Actually, in this case,
I'm not weird.
Changing rooms are weird. The ones in apparel stores, I mean.
Or are they called Fitting Rooms?
Whatever.
You see, when you change clothes at home, it's relatively simple. Take something off, put something on.
But when you're in a Changing Room, suddenly everything's so damn confusing. You're in there with, like, four pairs of pants or whatever. And then you're taking one off and putting another on and then taking it off and putting it on. And you have to keep track of what you've taken off and what you've put on.
And then there are four mirrors all around you. So now instead of one person with four pairs of pants in there, it looks like there are four Yous with 16 pairs of pants.
I mean, seriously, what the fuck?
There have been times when I've been so traumatised by the all the confusion that I have realised, just as I'm about to unlock the door and leave the room, that I'm still in my underwear.
Really.
And one day, it will happen. I'm sure of it.
I'll just walk out in my underwear, holding a pair of jeans or something and say to the salesgirl "Do you have 1 size bigger?"
(Yes. I realise I'm opening up an opportunity for you to make a joke about my penis-size here. Knock yourself out).
I really will.
It's only a matter of time.
5) Yes-yes. I don't drive.But once again, it's not really me who's weird.
Here's a typical conversation between me and a person who drives:
Driver: I was caught in the fucking jam!
Me: Uh huh.
Driver: Again!
Me: Yes.
Driver: And the fucking price of fucking petrol has gone up!
Me: Yes.
Driver: And can you believe the cost of parking? And tolls? Bloody Samy Vellu!
Me: Uh huh.
Driver: And then this morning this bastard cut me off and he had the fucking nerve to show me the finger. I tell you, these fucking KL drivers, man! Seriously! You know what I'm saying?
Me: No.
Driver: Huh?
Me: I don't drive.
Driver: You're weird.I'm weird? What the hell?
Here's what it's like with me. I get into a cab. I let my mind work on important things such as figuring out scientific definitions for obscure fears. I get out of the cab. Stress-free.
And
I'm the one who's weird?
Having said that, I don't really
not drive by choice. I probably would if I could.
The problem is, my mind prefers to be anywhere but the actual geographical location that my body is in.
So if I was driving, my mind
should be thinking:
That's a red light. I suppose I should stop.But in fact, my mind will be thinking something like:
If I win an Oscar, how should my acceptance speech be? Should it be short and sweet? Funny? What if nobody laughs? What if I fuck-up on the delivery? Who should I thank? Will people be offended if I don't thank them? Why is this so difficult? Fuck it. I just won't thank anybody. Was that a red light, just now? And why is there blood splattered across my windscreen? But surely I have to thank my mother? And my sister? But if I thank them, then I'll have to thank...So it's probably best that I don't drive. For everyone's sake.
Sigh.
That's me. Always thinking of other people.
True fact (as opposed to an untrue fact):I don't know a damn thing about cars either. I once got into the back seat of a Wira through the front door, thinking it was a Satria.3) I hate phones and other forms of technologyThe telephone, as you all know, was invented by Isaac Newton after an apple fell on his head and he wanted to call up the apple-tree guy and yell at him but then realised he had nothing to call him up with.
Since then, the phone has become the most misused piece of technology in the history of everything.
I mean, I'm not
totally against phones.
Sometimes, they can be useful.
Such as those times when you absolutely
have to call up the Selangor State Government to find out if
YAB Datuk Seri Khir Toyo is having sex.
Or, if you're desperate for some cash, you can call up McDonalds and have them deliver a McChicken Meal and McNuggets to the home of the CEO of KFC. Then you can wait outside the CEO's house and take a picture (with your phone!) of the transaction and threaten to release the picture on the internet if he doesn't give you a million bucks or something.
But phones were
not meant for conversations!
Conversations were meant to be had in pubs. Preferably fuelled by copious amounts of beer.
I am always suspicious of people who like to have long conversations on the phone. Why do they not want the person on the other end to see their face? I think there's a good chance that these people are liars.
True fact:
I only learned to sms last year. Or maybe the year before. I still hate it.
True fact again:
I also hated the internet until I started blogging. Years ago, when I was staying in Pantai Dalam, my e-mail address was something@pd.jaring or something. I thought the pd stood for Pantai Dalam. Lily Liverbird, who is evil, loves to remind me of this.6) I don't eat seafood or vegetablesI don't eat seafood because I don't trust things that can breathe underwater. Think about it. If you travelled to a planet where you couldn't breathe without an oxygen tank and you encountered an alien being, would your first instinct be to
eat it?
I don't eat vegetables because I am against the senseless murder of innocent plants. Human beings breathe oxygen. Animals use up oxygen. Plants produce oxygen. So, logically, which one should we kill? Animals or plants?
Exactly.
I also don't eat seafood or vegetables because they taste yucky.
4) I oppose Knowledge and advocate NonsenseKnowledge is the Enemy of Thought. Because the more you know, the less you try to figure out. The less you try to figure out, the less you know. So, the more you know, the less you know.
You know?
No?
Good.
Because if you know what I'm talking about, then you don't know what I'm talking about. Or do you?
Whatever.
I don't care if you think I'm talking nonsense.
Nonsense is underrated.
Your judgement is clouded by logic and reason.
Mine isn't.
1) I hate OrderI hate lists. I hate step-by-step instructions. I hate manuals. I hate Aturcara-Majlis. I hate planners and filofaxes - there's something robotic and arrogant about knowing where you'll be next Tuesday at 3.25.
I especially hate forms.
With their tiny little boxes where you have to fill in your little alphabets and then you realise with mounting dread that there isn't going to be enough boxes to fill in your whole address and
now what are you going to do?So you start trying to put two alphabets in each box and then you get to the end and then you realise that shit! There's a separate box for your poskod and negeri and shit and arrrrgggghhhhh!!!!
Just give me an empty sheet of paper.
And a pen.
And the world, for me, is as it should be.
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So there you go. I have to tag other people now, right?
Okay.
I tag Daryl Chan who is a psychotic genius and the weirdest person I know but who hasn't posted an entry for ages because, I suspect, he thinks people will steal his thoughts.
: Don't you tell me I'm doing fine! You're not the one who has to...aaarrrggg...
: Almost there, munchkin!! Almost there!!! I can see the head!!!
