I Loathe

- People who profess to be fucking religious and really think they are just because they donate huge amounts of money to whatever religious organisation they belong to. While in fucking reality, they're really fucking depraved, lying, swindling, fucking money-grubbing offspring of fucking unknown parentage!!!

- Noisy, drunken bastards and bastardesses (for want of a better word) who don't care there are people other than them in the pub who would also like the chance to enjoy themselves quietly!!!

- Advertisers on television or anywhere else who make ads with ridiculous claims while trying to sound scientific about their nonsense. And they come up with phrases like 'miracle grow organic fruit oils', 'extract of bitter gourd in its purest form' and so on fucking pisses me off!!! The ones that deliberately exaggerate just to be humorous are fine. At least those are fucking fun to watch.

- People who call me on my direct line at the saltmine by mistake (like dialing the wrong number, for instance) and then sound annoyed when I tell them it's fucking us, not whoever they wanted. I didn't fucking call them, did I??? Fucking morons!!!

- Salespersons who, if you buy something, immediately ask you for the names and addresses of 17 other people you know who would like to do exactly what you've done because if you 'get 17 of your friends to join us/buy from us, you'll get this cheap, crappy plastic bag for fucking free'! A variation is "If you buy 3 of whatever, you can get the next whatever at half-price'.

Like, riiiiiggghht?

- People who keep using my name when speaking to me. In every fucking sentence!!! This is for them. Any of them, all of them.

I fucking know my name!!!

You know my name!!!

I know you know my name!!!

Dont wear it out in one fucking conversation!!!

More than anything else, it's annoying. It's the most obvious sales ploy in the fucking world! It does not make me feel closer to you. Or more willing to do what you want. Unless your name is Hikaru Koto. And dont stand so fucking close to me. The phrase 'one-on-one' does not mean you need to be so close physically that I am forced to inhale your fucking breath.

Fucking imbecilisitic MORONS!!!

Joy To All

What if ribbons and bows didn't mean a thing,
ould the song still survive without five golden rings,
Would you still wanna kiss without a misletoe,
What would happen if God never let it snow,
What would happen if Christmas carols told a lie,
Tell me what would you find.

You'd see that today holds something special,
Something holy, not superficial.
So here's to the birthday boy who saved our lives.

It's something we all try to ignore,
And put a wreath up on your door.
So here's something you should know that is for sure.

Christmas must be something more...

What if angels did not pay attention to all the things that we wished they would always do,
What if happiness came in a cardboard box,
Then I think there is something we all forgot.

What would happen if presents all went away,
Tell me what would you find.

We get so caught up in all of it,
Business and relationships,
Hundred mile an hour lives.

And it's this time of year,
And everybody's here,
It seems the last thing on your mind,
Is that the day holds something specia,l
Something holy, not superficial,

So here's to Jesus Christ who saved our lives!

Eve Of The Day And I'm At Work

There's hardly anyone here today, except for me.

One of the very few poor bastard or should I say stupid moron in my office working the day before Christmas. I didn't want to, believe me but..arrgh, fuck it! Its no use. I'm here and fuck all.

There are a few little things I could be doing, work-related things, but none are that important and I don't feel like I want to. But really, are you not expected, almost required, to goof off if you have to be in the day before a big holy day?

Especially when it's so quiet, so few people around.

I chatted for a while with one of the only other elves for a while this morning. But then he left early. Says his girlfriend called and said she was sick and that she was at her mom's and he had to go home and take care of her goldfish or something like that. All bullshit but more power to him for coming up with an excuse to leave work.

Next I spent a good solid hour wasting time on the internet until that got boring. Then I started daydreaming. That quickly turned into some erotic fantasizing that got me seriously errr...wanting. Which then turned frustrating. And now I can't get fantasies of doing Hikaru Koto out of my mind.

I guess there's only one more thing to do then. Close the door, surf on some Japanese porn, pull down my pants and masturbate until lunch time.

I'm kidding! I'm kidding!

Anyhow, have a good one tomorrow, y'all!

Tough Year

As the end of the year draws to a close, it seems apparent that other such things are also coming to an end.

It's the time of year again.

Time to look within ourselves and find what we don't like and make wild claims about what we'll change and shit like like that. Come end of this month, I'll be looking in the mirror again and asking myself what achievement I've made for myself.

That is why I don't like December.

I am not quite sure where this year had gone, what I've achieved and yet somehow its a mere six days to the celebration of Yeshua's womb evacuation day and emotionally, I'm still in the same place and pretty much still disillusioned.

Was this year fine or just simply mediocre?

I certainly did some good. I did some charity work. Nothing great although I wished now that I did more. Oh, I finally made an effort to quit smoking. I used to go without for two or three months but its always been an emotional roller coaster rides of highs and lows. This time though, I'm good. Well, technically I still do but only the good stuff. But even that, only when the good stuff's available.

As the course draws to a close I fucking hope that the new year will bring some assurance of comfort. This year had been pretty tough. Fuck, last year and the year before that was tough.

But as the new year beckons, I couldn't help but wonder what the future holds in store.

I know we all will be embarking on new directions and shit like that. Yet this excitement is clouded by the inevitable change which will occur. Will all the shit we did this year and the events and stuff we shared with people become merely distant memories?

I don't know.

In the meantime, I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off and go with the flow.

Pink Gunk

The common toilet on out office floor has a generic-looking soap dispenser. Every once in a while, I've noticed that the cleaning lady gets a little lazy about refilling the soap dispenser. And rather than taking the empty soap thing out of the dispenser and replacing it with a new soap refill, she'll just leave the soap refill down next to the sink for people to use.

And what an unfortunate-looking soap refill it is.

You see, its basically this bag of pink soap with a rubber tube jutting out of the bottom of it. When put in the dispenser the pink bag and the rubber tube are completely hidden from view. When it's just sitting out next to the sink though and not in the dispenser, there's no nondescript little lever or button to push to get soap to come out. Instead, you have to squeeze the rubber tube. It's kind of like having to squeeze a really tiny little dick that shoots pink stuff into your palm.

Seriously, every time I see that little refill sitting all by itself next to a sink, I see a tiny little dick. And every time I've had to sqeeze that rubber tube to get the soap, I've had sexual thoughts...errr...gross sexual thoughts. I've often wondered if other people in the office and our neighbours thinks the same and feels kind of dirty - how's that for irony- whenever they have to wash their hands.

I've never heard anybody else make a comment about it. Out loud, anyway.

But this morning, when I went to take a dump and saw another refill sitting on the edge of the sink, there was a note stuck on it. I don't know if they did this as a joke, recognizing what everybody probably thinks anyway and leaving a note to give people a laugh, in which case, well done whoever you are. Or if they were seriously offended and did this to try to get the cleaning lady to stop leaving refills by the sink instead of replacing them inside the actual dispensers.

Either way, I thought it was fucking funny. The sticky note says - "Ini barang macam peler" (This thing looks like a dick). And I have to agree.

Seriously, should I really have to pump a rubber dick until it spews pink gunk just to be able to wash my hands at work?

My boss just asked me if I was the one who left the note. Apparently it looks like something I'd do.

What the hell was he thinking???

My Foot

The Good: I had a fun weekend. Went out of town for a feast of terrapin and frog meat. There were lots of other good stuff mainly because the good host is a firm beliver that all good times should not be without heaps of the good stuff, whatever the good stuff maybe.

Nevermind.

But there were lots of good food and lots of good drink and coupled with good company, what can possibly go wrong? Met a friend of my sister, one who's going through a divorce right now, and man was she cute and so funny and laid back and friendly, it was trippy.

The Bad: Klutz that I am, I totally fell while stepping out of my ride most probably because I was a little tipsy. Okay, maybe I was drunk. Landed on the wrong side of my right foot, which is either sprained or perhaps even broken. Either way it hurts like hell to walk. I'm an idiot and in pain.

The Ugly: That would be my foot, which is swollen and sort of purplish in the spot that hurts the most. Fucking great.

Did I mention I can't wait for Yesua's womb evacuation day celebration? That's about the only thing to look forward to this month. And that other day commemorating Prophet Muhammad's, peace be unto Him, journey from Meidna to Mecca. Both days falls on a working day and that means I dont have to be at the sweatshop. Which is good. Otherwise, December is a very depressing month.

And my foot fucking hurts.

Imma Git The Freak On

Time : 1:48am

I used to think I might be just a slight bit off the normal scale from the rest of the world, a bit crazy, just a hair or two away from being what you could call truly sane.

But fuck man! I didn't have a clue...

Because right now I am truly wrapped up in insanity. Its crazy. Wonderful insanity. Ecstatic, vibrant, psychedelic insanity. My world full of bright colors, greens and hot pinks and oranges and velvety reds and turquoises and canary yellows and fuchsias. I hear music. I fucking hear music. Wonderful rocking grooving makes-you-wanna-git-yo-freak-on music, every fucking minute.

I.Am.Fucking.Alive!

I am hyper-sensitive, in the most exquisite way. I am orgasmic.

I have somehow, unwittingly stumbled upon the world's biggest crazy happy pill. Errr...but I don't do chemicals.

A fucking huge heap of herbs it is then!!!

I am drunk. Intoxicated. High. And out of my mind with madness.

And this madness is finger lickin delicious-nous. It is exotic and erotic and powerful. It has consumed my mind and my fucking soul. And especially my sexual organs, like my brain, yo!

I am the monster that Dr. Frankenstein created. He has awakened me and put me on a fucking crazy-ass spell.

Imma his freak!

And the biatch is mine!

Please let this madness never end.

Gramps

I just got back from visiting my grand dad at the village. It was a year or so ago when I last saw him. He is very sick now and was admitted to the hospital for this thing they tell me as 'severe case of stomach complication'. I don't really know what the problem is and I don't want to know but as far as the doctors prognosis is concern, its not very good. The doctor said 'a few weeks to maybe a few months' and recommended that he went home. There was nothing to be done.

I met him at my dad's family home. He was happy to see me, he says. I was too, although I couldn't help being overwhelmed by sadness to see him lying on his bed, frail and thin. His legs were so thin I could barely see them under the sheets and his stomach so distended that it looked like a basketball had been put under his shirt to fill out his tiny little frame. He spoke to me in whispers. He was no longer the same grand dad I had always known. Vivacious, adventurous, the grand dad I walked to the padi fields with. No longer the grand dad that I had gone to town for kolo mee or the grand dad who had given my brother and I the advice to “always tell the truth” because “you will get no where in life by lying”.

Occasionally he let out a good laugh at some jokes and repeatedly reassured me he was fine and eating well. I spent a whole day just chilling with him last weekend next to his bed. He asked if I was to stay till Christmas but told him I couldn't and that I'd try to visit in the next coming weeks.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I felt guilty.

He nodded and that is when he started.

"When you were young. About five, I think..."

There I was, sitting next to my 86 year old grand dad recounting stories and listening to tales he used to tell me when I was kid. Mostly stories told by his father. Stories he heard when he was my age. And he still remembers my favourite. The one about the tortoise who carved an instrument, a ruding, from the bones of a forest lizard. There is also a monkey in the story who stole the ruding from the tortoise and ended up having his dick bitten by a crab. It later dies a miserable death. Its funny, really.

We laughed and he told me some more.

My grand dad loved to tell stories, and over the last few years I would encourage him to tell me stories from his life at every opportunity. I must have heard the story of how he met my grandmother a hundred times, each time with the same zeal. He told me stories of his days as the village chief and stories of his days in the field during the war. His stories were always punctuated by some victory or other, small or large and displayed his stubborn fighting spirit and his will to prove naysayers wrong.

I used to be at my grand dad's house quite a lot when I was young. I remember that quite clearly. He and my late grand mother dotted on me. My own dad wasn't around most of the time as he was working in another town and grand dad took over the role. He provided me with the kind of wisdom, guidance and fun a young kid would need. I know grand parents raise their grandchildren for a lot of reasons such as death, divorce, child abuse, neglect or abandonment. For me, I was just happy that my grand dad took the time to help raise me. Grandparents raising grandchildren offer them a special bond that will impact their lives forever.

I don't recall most of the things he told me. Mostly about my exploits and the shit I got myself into but knew somehow those things happened. Some were unpleasant and mostly to do with chickens that strangely went missing from the coop and then there are the few I can now vaguely remember. But it was just amazing to sit there to listen and notice how every details are still fresh on his mind. He still remembers them as if it happened only yesterday. At times he paused in between whispers and I could see how he was probing his mind for the exact details just to make sure he got it right.

And that was when I realised how little time he has. And that he also realises it.

But there was not a sign of resignation in his voice. He was calm and at peace and I could sense his will to carry on was strong although in essence he was all ready for the next journey. He tells me that he was in a lot a pain sometimes. The pills helps, he says.

I think I may have been sitting there and talking to him for four or five hours and I knew he was just making sure I remember the good times with him. I saw him just before my flight back yesterday. I went to his room, told him I had to go and promised to see him again soon. He was in good spirits and said he has one or two other stories to tell.

As I think about life and especially after my visit, I feel hopeful. Hopeful now that I believe that life is grand and there is fucking hope.

And that life is lived in cycles.

A beginning, a middle, an end.

But the end isn't necessarily final.