Sucky Poems Suck My Ass

So, yeah, I read a lot of blogs, and occasionally, because I've read one too many sappy poem that makes me want to vomit blood (ok, some are not bad, but most suck so hard they make the hairs on my anus stand), I decide to mock all these fuckers by producing my version of their shitty poems:

First, poems have to have a shitty name, that doesn't tell me jack shit about why the fuck I should be reading them. Something like 'pretty flowers' or 'birdies with wings' or some shit like that. Fuck, man, you know what I do with birdies with wings? I fucking eat them. Here is a picture of my favourite type of bird with wings:



Can you say yummy chicken? If you're a blog poet, probably not, because you're too busy being pretentious to say anything with less than three syllables in it. Hey, asshole, take your fingers out of your ass and write normally, jerkface! Gah! I fucking hate shit poems!

Next, the shittiest poems always, always, always rhyme. Now, I used to write a shitload of poems myself. Reading all my old poems, I've come up with a simple formula:



For those of you who don't understand, that simply means that, in amateur poetry, the degree of rhyme will be proportional to the degree of suck.

Compare the following two poems:

My love for you is like the sea
And we can run to where we're free
And I will give you pretty lillies
And feed you many ikan billis

Compare with:

Fuck you
Poems are gay
So are you, faggot.

I like the second one better.

You know what the problem is? The problem is, that too few people are willing to tell their friends, 'hey, you know what? Your poems suck ass,' Instead, they will be all impressed at their friends' 'sensitive sides' and shit like that, and be like, 'oooh, you wrote a poem you're so sensitive' or some shit like that. I used to force my friends to listen to the shit that I wrote, and I know, inside, they were thinking, 'man, I wish this fuckhead would stop reading me his suckass poetry' but on the outside they were like, 'yeah, that's pretty good.'

Bullshit.

Fortunately, I eventually got pretty good at writing poetry. You can see the evidence here and here. Notice the lack of a) rhyme scheme and b) stupid wanky feelings bullshit. Especially angst. I fucking hate angst. If you're all tortured and shit like that, you might as well convert your feelings to rage, because rage makes for much better writing. Again, a comparison:

The sands of the hourglass
Fly by fleetingly
As I am trapped in my prison
Of sand, and I am
Sad

Compare this with:

That fuckhead!
I will rip off his head
Open his mouth on the ground
And piss in his lifeless mouth, motherfucker!

Second poem wins, with extra points for judicious use of the word 'motherfucker'.

In conclusion, let me write a poem mocking all the shitty poems I see on shit blogs:

Sunshine and Love

I went for a walk and I saw the sun
And so I thought I'd start to run
And write poems too, oh look, I'm a pretentious fucking faggot
What the fuck rhymes with that oh...err...maggot!
And baggot! What the fuck is a baggot? I don't know
Oh woe! Oh woe!
I love the sun because it is warm
And I have shit for brains
Don't you like my poetry
And this sensitive side of me?

Please love me, darling, you know you
The girl in lecture, yes she who
Is always staring at that guy
With nice hair; hey, you know I
Write poems!
I'm clever!
And not a pretentious fucking faggot?
Oh wait, fuck, I am.

Don't you see that we
Were meant to be?
I love the sun and I love you
Even though I don't know anything about love
Because I'm a pretentious piece of shit.

Yes, I know, I'm fucking awesome.

Ok, before I end, though, I have to say that, naturally, not all poems suck balls. My little brother has been writing a whole bunch of poems on his blog, and he's tolerable. As in, I don't want to puke out my insides when I read his poems. This says a lot, because it really takes very little to make me want to puke out my insides. That's how many shitty internet poems I've read. Also, my adopted son (long story) consistently churns out pretty good shit. Check out his re-wording of Hopkin's 'God's Grandeur' - see, it's not shit, even though it rhymes, and is based off another poem. Yes, I like shit like that.

Edit: a certain suzy also brought to attention another of my son's parodies which I think is fantabulous: go read!

So, to conclude, before writing poetry, please stop to analyze whether you suck. If you want to have an unbiased opinion, feel free to email me your shit, and I will give you a suck-o-meter rating. Actually, don't, because I can't be bothered to read your shit. Ask your english teacher instead. Oh, and if you have to write a poem, and don't think you're all that good, at least do us all a favour and get yourself wasted, first. Nobody wants to read angsty shit.

Today's Blog Babe: jiameei; why does she have 2 'e's in her name? I have no idea. Ask her. I hesitated in linking her for a while, because she looks really young. Then I realized that she just turned legal, and thought to myself, eh, why not?

Happy Birthday Cheng Yan Yan

Seeing as to how it's Wendy Cheng's birthday, and seeing as to how I don't have money to buy her espadrilles, or aircon, or a slow loris (you think what? I'm DAMN POOR, OK!), I have decided to dedicate this entry to the blog-queen of Singapore, Miss Cheng Yan Yan.

Recently, minishorts has been writing a whole series of fairy tales involving por-pular bloggers like Kenny Sia and Cowboy Caleb. So, I figured I'd copy her and write a fairy tale of my own. Ok, ready? Let's go!

A long time ago in a land far, far, away, there was a princess named xiaxue. Now, as the day approached for her 21st birthday, the king of the land decided it was about time for princess xiaxue to be married. Being a (relatively) enlightened despot, the king summoned princess xiaxue to ask her opinion on the matter.

"My daughter, it is time for you to be married," the king said.
"Siao! So fast? I'm still young, you know!" the princess replied.
"It's your 21st birthday; you are not getting any younger!"
"Fine, fine, fine, whatever....but I want an ELF! And he better have PENIS VEINS!"

Now, unfortunately, the kingdom was at war with the elves, so this last comment made the king very angry.

"WAH BIANG!" said the king, "humans and elves are not friends, ok! Don't you remember how I was shot in the backside by an elf while you were a little baby?"

Before the princess could protest, the king locked her up in a dungeon. This was very sad, but what to do? Some times, kings are not nice people. To make matters worse, the king sent out a decree that he would marry the princess to the person who could kill the most elves. Princess xiaxue, who had always liked elves, was devastated. So unfair, hor? What to do? King is king, what! While there might have been some people who disagreed, none of them dared say anything, lest the king throw them in prison, with no trial. Or even worse, scarly he SUE their pants off!


Xiaxue was sad to be locked up. It was not fun.

Anyway, so all the daring warriors in the land went off to go find elves and kill them, because hey, what else was there to do? Even brave warriors can get bored of chowing down on stingray and shopping all day long, so off they went to fight the elves.

A couple bloody battles later, the brave warriors of the land came back. By a couple, I of course mean two, or at most three; you see, the brave warriors of the land weren't exactly all that brave, and while most of them had been in the country's army, they had spent their time telling dirty jokes and learning bad habits like how to smoke cigarettes, drink beer and fart a lot, instead of really learning how to fight. Thus, after about two or three fights (mainly involving swinging their swords around and shouting 'nahbeh' a lot), the warriors came back, tired and unhappy. Three of them, thinking that they had done a fairly good job, came to seek the princesses' hand in marriage.

After granting them an audience, the king asked the first, 'well? how many elves did you kill?'

"Your highness, I killed 3."
"ONLY THREE?" the king roared.
"Wei! Your highness! Those elves, got ARROWS leh! Kena hit already, can DIE, you know!" came the quick reply.

The king, not wanting to waste time, summoned the second warrior.

"How many elves did you get?" asked the king.
"Your highness...I killed 2," came the answer.
"ONLY TWO???" the king bellowed.
"Eh, your highness! Those elves, they run damn FAST, can? Somemore they climb trees, you know!" the warrior replied.
"Doesn't our army train you fools to run?" the king snapped.
"Your highness...all the best runners were running...in the opposite direction"

Sensing he was not having a good day, the king summoned the third warrior.

"Well? How many did you..."

At this moment, a messenger came running in.

"YOUR HIGHNESS! BAD NEWS!" the messenger cried.
"What, what, what's happening now?" the king answered.
"THE ELVES! THEY ARE COMING TO ATTACK!"

Before the king had time to panic, though, the whole palace shook with a resounding roar. Lo and behold, it was princess xiaxue, at the head of a rebel army!

You see, before she was locked in the tower, princess xiaxue had amassed a following of dedicated followers on her blog (what, you think this kingdom so low-tech, don't have internet is it? You are wrong! This kingdom damn hi-tech, you know!) who had learnt of her imprisonment and came to liberate her. Since they were so free, they figured they had time for a rebellion before supper as well.

Since nobody really liked the stuffy old king, the rebellion was over by about 8, just in time for dinner. When the elves came, the regime change was already over. Hurrah, xiaxue was now the queen!


Xiaxue was the Queen! Yay!

The general of the elven army requested an audience with the new ruler of the realm, queen xiaxue. While he was happy that the old king was no longer in power, he needed to make sure of the new alliance, and requested that queen xiaxue marry their prince, just to make sure everything was cool and groovy. Queen Xiaxue, having just won power, was not so ready to grant any old request.

"Is your prince cute or not?" the queen demanded, "if he's some old toot, I don't want, ok!"
"Your majesty, our prince is famous for his good looks!" the general replied.
"Sure or not?"
At that moment, the prince strode into the audience chamber, and the queen was dumbstruck, for he looked EXACTLY LIKE LEGOLAS! WAH!!!!



The pretty elf prince looked like legolas

Queen xiaxue struggled to control her excitement, feigning cynicism as she queried:

"But...does he have penis veins?"

The prince himself smirked, and paused dramatically before replying:

"My dear, ALL elves have penis veins."

And they lived happily ever after.

Today's Blog Babe: What, xiaxue not good enough for you all ah? Go say happy birthday to her lah!

Yeah, So the Cod are Screwed

Seeing as to how it's really late, I'm putting up a paper I turned in for a science class last year. My teaching assistant read it, gave me 0, and said I wasn't 'respecting the class'; until I gave him the real paper, that is. Not that this one isn't serious academic material; somemore got QUOTES, ok! This one was funnier, though:



Everyone knows that the numbers of cod are on the decline. This really sucks; especially if you’re thinking in terms of the long run. Less cod means less food, and less food means we might have to start eating tv celebrities, because hey, everybody’s got to eat, and those tv celebrities don’t really do much anyway. So I guess everyone should be concerned with these dwindling cod numbers. Especially tv celebrities. Oh, and maybe the cod too. And environmentalists, maybe. But then, environmentalists tend to worry about everything, so you don’t really need to care what they think. I mean, if they weren’t fussing about the cod, they’d be fussing about the dolphins. Or the whales. And everybody knows that whales eat cod, so obviously those environmentalists don’t know what the hell they’re doing.

Seriously, though, cod are mighty useful. For one, cod are pretty tasty. According to Fatte, cod are probably the tastiest fish around (2001). While they might not be the tastiest fish per se, everyone probably agrees that the cod is a mighty tasty fish. Except maybe vegetarians. But then again, those guys don’t even eat meat, so who cares what they think? I mean, seriously, dude. Yeah, so what the numbers mean is that if we keep on fishing for cod, eventually they’ll all die and we’ll have no more cod, and while we could still eat tv celebrities, they aren’t quite as tasty, so that would suck. I mean, when you’re sitting down for dinner and all, and your mom comes out and says, ‘hey guys, we’re having cod for dinner’ most people go, like, ‘woah, that’s pretty cool.’ However, if your mom came out and said ‘hey guys, all the cod are dead and stuff, so we’re just going to have to eat TV’s Robert Newman,’ then most people would be all, like, ‘No way! He’s so bad for my diet!’ So yeah, that would really suck.

Furthermore, cod have all sorts of interesting uses. It’s a well known fact that the term ‘codpiece’ refers to one’s genitalia because of the hallowed practice of putting one’s piece into a cod. The cod has, in fact, been revered as pretty damn sexy, if not sacred, by our founding fathers for generations and generations (Kinkki, 1799). Clearly, something must be done to protect this fish, up to and including the invasion of minor countries, because hey, what else is America going to do if it doesn’t bust out its troops? Nuclear weapons may be necessary as well, but hey, shit happens, and when the cod are at stake, no price is too high.

Clearly, however, nuclear warfare might not be the best way to save the cod. This is because the cod might die as well, due to being accidentally bombed in the process. This would suck, because then we’d be killing the very cod we sought out to protect in the first place. The repercussions on our collective credibility would be irreparable. I mean, in the future, when we’re all, like, making contact with aliens and all, all the aliens would know that we were the jackasses who bombed the shit out of the cod when we were trying to save them. And then when all the aliens got together for inter-planetary sports meets or cool alien gatherings like that, they’d laugh at us and put up signs like ‘no dumbasses who kill the fish they’re trying to protect allowed,’ but everyone in the galaxy would know they were actually referring to us, just in a really sneaky, clever, alien way. Really clever dudes agree that, in the event of alien contact, it’s important to have galactic cred (Johnson, 2001). That’s why we have to think of a really cunning plan to save all the cod, so that when the aliens come knocking, we can say, ‘hey guys, not only do we eat cod, we also managed to SAVE THEM FROM CERTAIN DOOM,’ then all the aliens would be all like, ‘whoa, you guys are really pretty cool,’ then the human race collectively would have enough galactic street cred to hit on all those sexy, sexy alien ladies, which would be totally sweet.

So, if nuclear warfare isn’t really an option, what exactly will we do to save the cod? The problem with cod is that eating them kills them. I mean, maybe with all these advances in technology and stuff like that, it might be possible to one day eat a cod without killing it, but all that sort of hi-tech manipulation is way in the future, so it’ll be pretty hard to accomplish. Pretty hard, that is, unless we pour loads and loads of money into the ever-growing field of molecular biology. It is possible that, given enough money, molecular biologists will eventually be able to make really crazy nifty gadgets, like de-juicers. I mean, right now, we have these juicers, right? So you put fruits or vegetables or, I don’t know, fingers in them, and out comes fruit juice or vegetable juice or, err, blood and stuff. But one day, molecular biology will be so advanced that they’ll have de-juicers, so you can put in grape juice or apple juice or blood and out will come grapes, apples, or chickens. Yeah, so once they get to that stage, they’ll probably be able to put all the cod we’ve eaten into these big machines, and out will come, like, real live cod and stuff. Problem solved. However, what we all have to realize is that giving people money doesn’t always solve problems, even if they’re super smart molecular biologist dudes. This is because, given enough money, there’s always the probability that they’ll decide to screw what they’re doing, buy an island or something, then just go live on it and bring a couple hookers or something. Then we’d all be royally screwed, especially the cod, which would suck.

Another way of saving the cod would probably be to stop eating them, but then the problem is that all the humans wouldn’t have cod to eat. If this were to happen, then it would kind of defeat the purpose of the cod being there. I mean, they’d still be around for deviant sex and stuff, but unfortunately, statistics show that 9 out of 10 cods used for deviant sex end up dying (Duder, 1969). Obviously, then, they would serve no purpose. However, they’d all be alive, so that would be cool. From a cod’s point of view, anyway.

Having established a way of saving the cod, we must now consider the repercussions of such an action from a galactic point of view. If aliens were to come and make contact, saving the cod would mean we’d be able to say, ‘hey guys, look at all this biodiversity and stuff we’ve preserved,’ increasing the chances that they’d be really impressed and take us to all the cool alien clubs and stuff. However, on the flip side, they might also be all like, ‘well, do you eat those cod?’ and we’d all be like, ‘no, we were trying to save them, so we stopped that shit,’ then they’d all be like, ‘daym! Who wears the pants on this planet?’ Then instead of inviting us to all the hot alien dance clubs, they’d just take the cod out instead, and the cod would laugh at us and say nasty things behind our backs like, ‘yeah, those stupid humans. They could have eaten us when they had the chance but they just blew it because they’re a bunch of pussies.’ Can you smell a total loss of galactic street cred? I sure can. On the other hand, if we ate all the cod and stuff, and the aliens came by, we’d all be like, ‘hey, let’s go party’ and they’d be all like, ‘wait a second, where are all the cod?’ and we’d be all like ‘what cod?’ and they’d be all like, ‘what the heck, it doesn’t matter anyway, who gives a damn about cod.’ Then we’d all be able to party and stuff. We just wouldn’t be able to eat cod and all, but that’s cool, because there are still tv celebrities. I mean, some of the aliens might be all grossed out and say, ‘woah, you people eat people?’ but we’d just be all like, ‘hey, screw those guys,’ and the aliens would be all like, ‘yeah, you’re right. Let’s go party.’ Then everything would be chill on the planet earth, which would be mad sweet.

The question remains, then ? what do we do with all these cod? Obviously, we just keep on eating them. However, seeing as to the fact that they’re going extinct, we’d better eat them faster, just so we can eat as much good stuff as we possibly can before it runs out. I mean, just look at the superbowl and stuff. Everyone knows that it’s going to sell out, so you camp outside the ticket office and stuff so you can get your ticket before all those other suckers. Clearly, in the cod, we have a compelling parallel. By eating all the cod before those other suckers, you clearly have a leg up on the competition (i.e. all those other suckers). Therefore, get out your knives and start eating, because when nothing’s left except tv celebrities, at least you’ll be able to say ‘hey man, I ate me a lot of cod.’

I know, it was long, but hey, I liked it.

Today's Blog Babe: Mantouu's Xanga. I think this one was recommended by Gabrielle.

The Internet is Evil

So, in what can only be described as a tragic turn of events, my in-real-life friend AcidFlask (incidentally, not his real name!) was forced to shut down his blog, mainly because people are threatening to sue his pants off. This only goes to show that nothing good can come out of the internet. As I write this entry, I have a midterm tomorrow that I haven't started studying for, and it's suddenly occurred to me that, just maybe, blogging is about to ruin my life, and I will become like Cowboy Caleb like that. Considering I don't know Cowboy Caleb, I have no idea what this means. For all I know, the bugger could be a millionaire, and also secretly Bruce Wayne, in which case, being like him would not be all that bad. Alternatively, he could be a secondary school janitor who blogs while 'pretending to clean the computer lab'. This, I suppose would suck. The point, however, is that I should really be doing more homework, when instead I am wasting time on the internet.

Consider the following conversation:

J Schnorng: it's led me to conclude
J Schnorng: that nothing good comes of the internet
Jol: hahaha yeah
Jol: very correct
J Schnorng: except porn
Jol: i was gonna say, except porn and webcomics
Jol: oh, and mp3s
J Schnorng: yes
J Schnorng: and free movies
Jol: and being able to buy shit online
Jol: actually, quite a lot of good things, hor
J Schnorng: yes
J Schnorng: but at the root it is evil.
J Schnorng: because technology is evil

This succinctly proves my point that the internet is, at heart, evil.

Seriously, it's really evil!

No, I mean it!

Ok, to prove to you that the internet is evil, I have found some evil, evil links, which show the utter moral bankruptcy of the evil internet:

1) Mr. T singing and dancing. You remember the A-Team? Then you'd remember that Mr. T should beat things up. And not sing. Or dance. Yucky.

2) Evil programs that gangster-ify your language. Two of them, somemore! First, we have Tha Shizzolator. Next, we have Gizoogle. Some of you might be saying, it's ok what, it's quite funny. Well, you are WRONG. As Goldie-Looking Chain tells us in their video, guns don't kill people, rappers do. So evil!

3) Evil google searches. Finally, if you search for bigfuck on google, you get my site, instead of pr0n. Unfortunately, this only works in Thailand. Nahbeh. Also, if you search for 'fuck your friends mother' in Germany, guess which site pops up? That's right, mine. It's sick! All this shows that Google is evil, mainly because I say so. Evil!

4) Juicypout's post calling me an ah beng. This is clearly evil, because I am not an ah beng! Too much! So evil!

5) Ok, I can't think of anything else. Except porn. There's a lot of porn on the internet. We all know that porn is evil! Evil porn! Yucks! I don't like porn, because I am a good boy! Bad porn! It needs to be spanked! Naughty, naughty, naughty porn!

Having wasted enough time on this internet, I will now go study for my midterm, which I am bound to fail, because I have been blogging when I should have been studying. I am a bad boy. Before this, however, I have to plug makanguru's new blog; he's been blog-whoring even more hard-core than I was a month ago, so you really have to give the guy r.e.s.t.e.c.p, you know? Go click click click on him, ok?

Don't you like clicking on things? We're all too used to computers nowadays, but man, I remember when I'd just sit around and click on things, for the fun of it. Click! Open! Click! Close! Click click click! Open Close Open! Click click click click click! Computer spoil! Parents scold me! Yay! So fun, right?

Finally, today's blog babe: The Ferris Wheel Project; recommended by Shortphat K

On Drawing Silly Faces

You know something's wrong when I type more than one serious entry a week. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

When I was 13 or 14, I'd spend sundays with my friends from church, most of whom were older than me; all the kids my age had to go home, and I'd be loitering around town with people in their late teens, wandering the streets of Orchard.

Anyway, being the older people that they were, some of my friends had cars. One day, I was trying to irritate one of my friends into driving his car from point A to point B (I was 13, ok? Try and convince me that YOU weren't irritating at 13) and he replied, 'aiyah, here are my keys, you go drive, lah!'

Now, at this point, I had two options - I could either back down and walk (the sensible option) or I could actually take his keys, go off and look for his car (note that I didn't even know where his car was parked) and, presumably, try to drive it somewhere. This would most definitely be the stupid, dumb-ass, makes no sense, what-the-hell were you thinking option.

Two hours later, I found myself wondering what the hell I was thinking. Why the hell couldn't I back down and say, 'ok, fine, I lose,' and get on with it? The problem is, more often than not, I really don't know when to back down, don't know when to say I'm sorry, and don't know when to say enough's enough.

Today I was woken up by a phone call from a concerned friend about an entry that he felt could trigger a Chengzhan-esque wave of shit directed against your humble electronic correspondent. He even wrote a blog entry about it, in which he figures I have 3 days to act before things go to hell. I suppose the gist of his message is that it isn't worth it. In a way, he's right - if the shit really hits the fan, it won't be worth it - it's not worth having your family shamed, having your blog live in infamy, possibly being forced to shut down, all of that - that would royally suck.

Somehow, though, there's a big part of me that just doesn't want to take the entry down.

Maybe it's because I'm the sort of guy who hates being told off, maybe it's hubris, or maybe it's just my firm belief in the fact that things like this shouldn't matter. It's really distressing that people should care when you draw a moustache on a picture. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't hurt anyone. It doesn't say anything - or maybe it does, maybe it just questions what exactly we hold sacred, what we hold inviolable, and questions, just for a second, whether these things are worth keeping sacred, whether any many can be held in such high regard that even his image should be revered.

You see, there's a reason why I don't draw moustaches on Jesus. Any politician, though, no matter how wonderful he is, is still just a man. I can't help feeling that, if I take down my entry, I'm tacitly admitting that he's more than he is, that the man is sacred and inviolate. While I respect all that he's done for my country, and think he's truly a pretty formidable man, I don't think he's a demi-god. I think he's a man who should be able to tell that, in the end, some jokes are, in the end, harmless, regardless of whether or not they are funny.

If you guys think otherwise, and if anyone is really deeply offended, email me, and I figure I'll reconsider taking down the post. For now, though, here's my graphic response:

I found this picture when I was searching google for 'tan ah beng'; what a cute baby!



I wonder if people will think I hate babies if I draw a moustache on this baby.



Anyone who knows me will tell you I love Arsenal, and I think Mssr. Wenger is awesome:



Nobody told me he was actually a pirate!



Here's Mr. Mao:



Why does Mao rhyme with cow? It's a sign!



I have absolutely nothing against Tony Blair:



But his drag queen tendencies alarm me:



So, in conclusion, I'm sorry, everyone:



...sorry I forgot to shave.



Oh yes, sorry for not telling you that I am an evil lizard demon from hell, too. I forget to mention that from time to time.


Today's Blog Babe: Asking for the Sky; I'd actually been reading her blog for a while (i.e. ever since she linked me), but it took an extra recommendation from suspicious bastard before I realized she was linkworthy. Ok, I'm out.

FLIRT NO MORE.

So, there was a party tonight at my place.

Tonight, I was a good boy:

1) I drank very little. Actually, I drank a fair bit. But I am not drunk. I'm not even tipsy. I'm a little tired, but it's 5.30 in the morning.

2) I didn't flirt with anybody. See what a good boy I am? I'm amazed at myself.

3) I didn't get my apartment trashed.

I just thought I'd let everyone know all this.

Oh, by the way, I've decided to give up flirting, because it's no good for my reputation. People will think I'm a flirt, you know! Then which nice girls will want me? No good, no good! From now on, if you see me flirting, be sure to, err, tell me off. You get extra points if you tell me off in a sexy way. Especially if you're a hot babe.

I didn't mean that, by the way, because from now on, I am a FLIRT NO MORE!

Just so you know.

Oh yeah; while I from time to time get anonymous comments telling me how much I suck, I finally got a whole hate post (ok, maybe HALF a hate post) dedicated to me. I wish the guy had done a little more research, so that he could have written more nasty things about me, but I suppose that we'll just have to make do with whatever he managed to write before passing out in a drunken stupor. You see, being the attention whore that I am, I love it when people write about me. It just makes me more famous, right? Let me encourage people to write about me by making this guy a little more famous:

This is Brose's blog; while he spent half his entry ranting about Miss. Cheng Yan Yan, he managed to dedicate a good three paragraphs to yours truly in this entry. He's only just started blogging, and some of his stuff is kind of funny. Ok lah! Give him some traffic, since he's quite amusing. Even Kenny Sia reads this guy's blog ok! Sidenote to Kenny: Wah, people write about me you never say! Tell me, mah, then I can link him!

What's left?

Oh, right, blog babe: Black High Heels; she wears high heels, a mini skirt, and plays computer games. I am lost for words. She just started her blog, but I'm really attracted to her...err...web design skills. I will try not to flirt with her, though, because I am a FLIRT NO MORE.

EDIT: Ok, maybe I'm a little tipsy. The sun is coming out already, you know! I am tired. Byebye.

In Response to Everything

In Response to Everything.

After a night on the town, I have decided, my official response to everything that has been said is this:

Bollocks.

You know what? I don't care about being clever right now. I've had a couple too many beers, and I want to paint moustaches on posters. It's time to paint moustaches on lots and lots of pictures!

I want to say that firstly. I was wrong! After a carton of beer, I have discovered the truth!

I have been deceived, by Mr. Leeky! I did a google search for Mr. Leeky:



Bad Mr. Leeky! I draw a moustache on him!



Hahahahaha! He has moustache! Stupid Mr. Man! You have moustache! Why you have a moutsache, stupid Mr. Man?

Mr. Leeky is a stupid moustache face! Hahahahaha! I laugh at Mr. Leeky! Poopyface Leeky! Poooooooottttt!!!!!!! Fart fart fart pooooot!!!!

the other day I bump into Mr. Bushit! Mr. Bushit he is Mr. Moustache FACE! MOUSTACHE! But when Mr. Bushit have no moustace, super surprise!



I make Bushit super moustache-ify!



WOW MR. BUSHIT!!!! IS THAT PICTURE? WHY IS YOU PIRATE?

WOW MR. BUSHIT HE PIRATE!!!!!! ARRRR!!!! Pirate they is go arrr all the time and out of control, dancing and vomit all over the place to make big stink. Yucky pirate! I AM PIRATE! I PUKE ALL OVER YOUR FLOOOR!!!!! Puuuuuukkkkeeee!!!! Vomit! BLEEEEHHHLBLEEEHHH:



Mr Bushit, you sure is one stinky dude!

Where is Mr. Leeky?

He is staring at me again! Beat him up!



Mr. Leeky is silly. Hahahahaha. What a silly billy.


Oh wait! There is blog babe!
Sway sway My QUIrkY WAY!

YEAH!!!! RoxoRZ!!!!!!!!!!!

Singapore's "Infantile Blogosphere"

So, as I was planning my stunningly amusing blog entry for the day, I was reading the heavily plugged Tomorrow and found a link to Mr. Steven McDermott's entry labelling the Singapore Blogosphere "infantile"; he refers to a 1995 article written by a certain “Ann Tellman” (which he reproduces in his site) and pronounces the Singapore blogging community ‘infantile’. In a nutshell, this statement pisses me off. Seeing as to how Mr. McDermott is obviously a reasonable, intelligent man, I will pitch this entry to a reasonable, intelligent, educated audience. Sorry, no ‘fuck you, fuck me, fuck the world’ in this entry. You can read my previous entry for that. I just have a few things which I feel need to be said, and damn it, I’m going to say them. You know the drill; if this bores you, click on the title of this post, see the blog babe of the day, maybe leave a comment, and go on your way. But for now, let’s get down to business.

To be fair, Mr. McDermott agrees that his statement may have been a little harsh; his logic, if I interpret it correctly is as follows:

1) Mr. Brown and Xiaxue are popular; in fact, they are, in all likelihood, the most popular blogs in Singapore.

2) The most popular blogs are by definition the most accurate reflection of the Singaporean blogger mindset

3) Neither Xiaxue or Mr. Brown raise thought provoking, status-quo changing posts, or incisive social critique. This makes their content un-intellectual. Mr. Brown’s ability to keep a job in the local newspaper somehow casts doubt on the controversial nature of his blog.

4) The lack of social commentary reflects an unquestioning support of the government, and thus allows the government unbridled power, which they are free to abuse as they like.

5) Singaporeans have thus fallen prey to the government’s evil ploy to keep our bellies full and our heads empty; we only have ourselves to blame when the revolution comes and we are the first against the wall.

Naturally, it was not Mr. McDermott’s intention to be inflammatory. However, I really resent the implications of his argument. I have a lot of very liberal friends here in the states, and they often say things about Singapore as well; how we’re citizens of a draconian police state, how our laws are punitive and harsh, how we’re oppressed, the list goes on; I always tell them that it isn’t as bad as they think, that Singapore’s system isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be, and frankly, I’m tired of saying it.

Yes, it’s true that it’s kind of silly that there’s a law against chewing gum. Yes, it’s kind of silly that you get caned for vandalism. Yes, it’s kind of harsh that smuggling drugs gets you the death penalty, and yes, I do sympathize with Shanmugam Murugesu. I can accept it when people say Singapore isn’t the most liberal country in the world, and I can accept that sometimes, the government babies us a little bit. However, I really can’t stand the popular notion that it’s our national culture which is somehow to blame for this; I resent the portrayal of Singaporeans as unintelligent, unquestioning sheep who blindly follow the government’s autocratic doctrines and are, in some twisted way, responsible for their terrible state of affairs. I resent the implications that just because we love to eat and shop (believe me, I have a distinct passion for both these things) we are thus, by definition, purely consumers, and nothing more.

You see, Mr. McDermott, in my opinion, it’s not the Singapore blogging community that’s puerile. It’s the whole world; the internet in general. If you wanted to judge the state of the world from popular blogs, then, on the evidence of Maddox and Tucker Max, we’re all a little infantile. If you want to look closer to home, the ingenious folk at Rather Good and b3ta.com aren’t exactly paragons of maturity, either. As Shianux says in a comment on your post, blogs serve many purposes. One of these is entertainment. I would go so far as to say that the major purpose blogs serve is entertainment. As much as I hate to say it, the most popular use of the internet is not intellectual discussion, but entertainment. Given a choice, I will unwaveringly predict that the average male college student in America uses the internet more for downloading pornography than for debating politics. This does not make America a perverted, disgusting society (though some close-minded Singaporeans may have mentioned this off-hand, and hence propagated the image of the conservative Singaporean, opposed to ‘Western liberalism’); it merely reflects the fact that, most of the time, man kind in general is rather base. I’d love to say that the world is full of thoughtful, considerate, intellectual people, but it isn’t. In fact, I’ll even go a step further and confess that, more often than not, I am not a thoughtful, considerate, intellectual person.

Nonetheless, none of this implies that we’re infantile, either. Anthony, in reply to Mr. McDermott’s post, remarked how Singaporean websites like Talking Cock use humour to question the government; I feel this is one of the most striking pieces of evidence that we aren’t the sheep people make us out to be. While I can’t claim that the local film industry is regularly churning out stunning works of art, I like to think that it shows a lot of promise, and regularly churns out fairly good stuff, like Royston Tan’s fifteen, and Jacen Tan’s Tak Giu, which, if you think about it, is really not too shabby for a tiny little red dot.

Perhaps what really distresses Mr. McDermott is the fact that politically minded, mature blogs like his own or Shianux’s get so much less traffic than the blogs with less intellectual subject matter. Here’s a heads up, Mr. McDermott; as far as I’m concerned, intellectual blogs, in general, get less readers than the funny, irrelevant, irreverent ones. This is true all over the world. This is not necessarily because people are stupid; rather, it is due to the fact that the vast majority of people don’t have the energy to think about politics. Yes, political blogs in America and the UK have more readers; this is not because the people in these two countries are by default more intelligent. Rather, it is a direct result of the fact that there are more people in these countries.

So, in conclusion, please don’t say that our blogosphere is infantile. Please don’t insinuate that we are the unwilling perpetrators of our own allegedly unhappy existence. We like our food, and our shopping, and our trips to Malaysia, but this does not make us passive automatons. It just makes us normal people, who don’t like being called stupid.

Alright, sorry to all my regular readers for boring you with that rant. Here’s the blog babe you’ve all come for: All Things Oriental. Oh, I love the delicious irony of providing a blog babe today. No, she’s not a bimbo. In fact, she seems quite clever, even if she might like food.

technorati tags: singapore, blogosphere, singapore blogosphere

Who Says I'm Vulgar?

Oh blogger ... first it refused to publish this post, then it finally published the same thing a whopping FIVE times! What rubbish, right? I know, I know.



In response to yesterday's fuck-filled entry, Ci'en suggested I install a 'fuck' counter to see how often I use this blog's eponymous epithet. Actually, to be honest, I've thought of the same question myself. You see, I don't really think of myself as a vulgar person. Sometimes, I'm sitting around, and I just have to swear at something. Say, for example, my beer is warm. Fucking shit, beer should never be warm, right? Say, for example, my fucking computer hangs. Fucking hell computer, you shouldn't fucking hang! Say, for example, I am going to the toilet and slip and fall into the toilet bowl. In such a situation, even a monk who has embraced restraint would say something like, 'fu..nny toilet, forgive me father I have sinned and almost said a bad word'.

So...anyway, I counted the number of fucks (before this entry), and I found that, in 38 entries, I have used fuck a grand total of 200 times. Damn nice number, right? I think so too. I couldn't believe it was such a nice round number, so I counted it twice. Lo and behold - 200! I know, it's totally amazing, right? Just so you know, every post technically has one fuck, since every post ends with 'the big fuck said so'; I don't count those. Not my fucking fault that my website has a vulgar name, right? So what if I named it? I was forced by circumstance, ok! What circumstance, you might ask? Obviously, I was forced to name my blog such a startling and vulgar name by the fact that all the other good names were taken. As for all the rest of the lame-ass names link 'pinkponyblog' or 'cutekittenswithprettywhiskers', yeah, well, they're not in character for me, mainly because I'm not a giggling buffoon. Also, the sidebar doesn't count - it's always there. Just in case you're interested, there are 10 occurences of the word fuck in the sidebar. Anyway, the bulk of the 'fucks' come from 4 entries:

1) In first place, we have the post where I tell everyone to shut the fuck up. Yes, I know, there are several of these. Shut the fuck up.

2) The Blogging Tipsy post - 34 fucks. Cannot help it - I was drunk! Ok, not drunk, but at least tipsy. I can swear when I'm tipsy, right? Damn fucking right, I can! I can swear when I'm not tipsy too! I love freedom! Yeah! Freedom fucking rules!

3) My Awesome Pictures post - 21 fucks. Of course, this is cheating, because at one point, I say fuck 10 times in a row, for no reason. So I guess I only really mean it 11 times.

4) My ultra super quiz thing; I think this one had a lot of fucks because of the fact that I had to put my url in the hyperlinks (yes, I count those fucks too).

In all the rest of my posts, though, I actually use 'fuck' damn sparingly! I have FIFTEEN posts with NO fucks, and FIVE posts with only ONE fuck. See? MORE THAN HALF of my posts are actually not that vulgar, ok! I can write civilized when I want to! I mean, while I find myself compelled to swear at certain things, I don't actually have Tourette's, ok? I can hang around polite company without telling the annoying moron (you know, the one who spends the whole night giggling at stupid jokes) what a giggling fuckhead he is. I'm THAT civilized.

I mean, let's look at averages. Based on averages, I use fuck approximately 5.26 times per post (though this will probably go up after this post). Come on, people, I figure most people think 'fuck' more often that that, right? What do you think when someone cuts you off in a car? If you find yourself substituting those fucks for 'frick' or 'fish' or something retarded like that, well, err, good for you. I hope your butt-plug doesn't make you explode. I mean, I don't understand - have you been in those situations where fuck is implied, and everyone knows you mean to say fuck, but nobody actually says it?

The four Fs are ... fighting, fleeing, feeding and having sex.

Cue infantile giggling.

I don't understand why this should even be funny any more. It's not funny when you 'almost said a bad word'; are we supposed to cup our hands to our mouths and say, 'oh dear, what an almost naughty man!'

Oh, some days I wish we'd all stop being such retards and grow the fuck up.

By the way, reviewing my posts, I actually find that I really like my fuck fests. I think I write a lot better when I swear.

Ok, back to the daily inconsequentials:

1) For all you non-Singaporeans, here are some great Singapore English references. I'll probably put these in my sidebar when I can be bothered to:
- The wikipedia entry on Singlish
- The Coxford Singlish Dictionary (fucking famous, ok, this one!)
- Anthea Gupta's guide to Singapore Colloquial English

2) Mr QH wants to be referred to as Mr. Q from now on. I originally wanted to refer to him as Mr. Q, but he wanted QH, and now changed his mind again. Ok lah, Mr. Q, I hope you're happy.

3) Sandra is not only a chiobu, she is also quite clever, and also has an uncanny knack for chatting on msn in a fashion that doesn't annoy me. This is rare. I am mainly saying this because I am supposed to thank her for the traffic she brings me, or something. Damn it, from now on I will stop taking requests, unless I fucking feel like it.

4) WHY HAVE MY SUBSCRIPTIONS DROPPED AGAIN? Fuck man, yesterday they were at 9 (on the feedburner feed) and today they are a measly FIVE! Did I scare everyone away? Fuck! Yes, I know, I'm an attention whore, but, as I've said before, at least I admit all this shit, right? Honesty is the best policy, especially since that means I can cuss at people who unsubscribe. You fuckheads! You're missing out! The bloglines atom feed people, however, are pretty consistent. Thanks, you guys, you guys rock.

5) No, I haven't forgotten about the blog babe. Here you go:

Today's Blog Babe: Rei hime; you might have to go through lots of pictures of food to find pictures of her, but man, I love pictures of food. Food and hot babes? What more could you ask for? Also, she's Japanese, and my fetish for all things Japanese is well-documented.

Blogging Tipsy

This is a long entry; if you want, you can click here to view it in a new window, leave comments, click on the blog babe of the day and fuck off, if you wish. Then again, I'm such an awesome writer, isn't I? Yah, that's right.

I came home today with a burning desire to play Grand Theft Auto and drink beer. It's like drunk driving, man, playing Grand Theft Auto tipsy. The only difference is you can pull out a virtual gun and shoot virtual dudes, which makes it super awesome. If I wasn't concerned about the horrible social values violent video games convey, I'd recommend that people spend more time playing them. I'm actually kind of apathetic. Thus, I recommend all of you go play violent video games. They're AWESOME!

Anyway, having had a couple beers, I'm a little tipsy, and don't really give a fuck. I love how I can swear freely in this blog; having your own blog is awesome. Every last one of you should get one. Sure, your blogs might suck, but hey, I won't read them, and you'll get to say whatever the fuck you want in them. Freedom of expression, man! Let's say you like pandas, and think they're the fucking greatest thing in the world. Every day you can say 'holy shit, pandas are awesome,' and, if you're lucky, people will come and read you, and be, like, 'shit, this guy is totally right! Pandas ARE awesome!'

Of course, you could also say that pandas are fucking useless, like this guy. But that's entirely your choice. You could even blog about your butt-plugs or some shit like that. On a side note, is it me, or are butt-plugs fucking illogical? Consider this - your butt is designed to propel shit out of it. It would thus take a very fucking strong plug to seal it up, right? Wouldn't it hurt like shit? I don't see how it would work; I'm sure it would destroy the elasticity of your anus. Sometimes I take really big shits, but man, a butt-plug? That would fucking suck, man!

Anyway, you can blog about whatever the fuck you want, and sometimes, people will read it and say, 'shut the fuck up, you're an asshole and your layout sucks'; other times, people will say 'holy shit! you fucking rock!' and other times, people will say 'I don't understand a fucking word you're saying, because you are an incomprehensible drunk moron who should drink less beer and stop farting.' Excuse me, I can't help farting. Lots of beer gives me gas, and farting feels awesome.

If you write about your friends, though, people might slime them. This is not always cool. Mr. QH says I totally misrepresented his tricks and made him look like a shameless git yesterday. I told him to write a clarification, and would like to say a few words in his defence. Let me tell you all, Mr. QH is not a shameless git. He is very shameful.

No, sorry, wait, fuck, that's not what I meant. I meant that he is a super cool guy. Mr. QH can sing damn well. He can also speak many languages. He also is a nice guy, universally loved by all because he isn't really all that greedy, but he jokes about it all the time and we know it and it's funny. I sometimes get anonymous comments saying, 'hey, Mr. Big Fuck, fuck you!' and I think, 'that's right, fuck me, I'm the big fuck. Fuckety fuck.' See, fuck has no power over me. You could tell me to shove a dildo up my asshole and sit on it because I'm such a fuckface, and I'd read your comment and respond, 'I don't want to shove a dildo up my asshole, alright? My asshole is for shitting through - shitting on fuckfaces like you. Poooot! See, I'm shitting on you, fuckface! Hahahahaha!' My friends, though, are kind of sensitive sometimes, and I think they're cool. So don't say mean things about my friends. Or say them, if you want, because I believe in free speech, and the right of all men to be stupid fucking assholes, so I can rant about what stupid assholes they are, and wish anal dildos on the lot of them, the fuckheads.

Excuse me for a while, I'm hungry.

Alright, I just came back from the kitchen. I opened the fridge and attacked it with a spoon. Unfortunately, you can't really eat ham with a spoon, so I stood there with a spoon for a while and felt like a stupid dickhead for a while. Bear with me, I'm waiting for Mr. QH to email me his response. He says he's shy; blogging takes thick skin, ok. You might get enemies, enemies who try to beat you up when you're walking down the street!

Oh wait, no, that's just my old bookie. But that's another story, for another day.

So, where was I? Oh yes, Linda Chia wrote me a very nice email asking me if I could ask all of you to go see if you could identify the fucker who stole her handphone. Sorry, I had to make that bold to catch the attention of the sleeping fuckers in the audience. Anyway, having looked at the photos on her blog, I'm pretty convinced that the fucker in question is a jellyfish. Or perhaps a piece of kueh lapis. In other words, the picture is blur as fuck. I read some of the comments on the post, though, and apparently some eagle-eyed internet dudes could make out some sort of face. Maybe it's one of those stereoscope sort of things or some shit like that. I could never fucking see those things. So, yeah, go see, and help catch the bugger!

Still waiting for Mr. QH....

Oh yeah, my roommate's cat got castrated today. I feel sad for small animals with no balls. Why can't they just give the poor guy a vasectomy instead? I suppose that no creature should be denied the joys of sex. Then again, I don't want cat sperm all over my living room. Ewww. This reminds me; if dolphins have sex for pleasure (as I heard on the discovery channel or something) does this mean that they sometimes masturbate? Or is dolphin pussy just fucking plentiful? I think this is a question you should ponder seriously.

Still waiting...

Oh yeah, I was meaning to post a disclaimer on this site. You know, one saying that I'm not always serious about the things I say, and how, you know, I make up a lot of bullshit that I write. Then, I decided not to. Let it state for the record that I absolutely mean EVERYTHING I write on this site. I am 1000 feet tall, and have superpowers, and shoot lasers out of my ass. I also am a stud with a penis that could level the Tokyo-Yokohama metropolis, and have extra miles left over to fight Godzilla. When I was born, African tribes started worshipping me as a fertility god, because that's how far my penis extended. This is all the truth, because I NEVER BULLSHIT. Also, I think about my GPA all the time, because I am obsessed with my studies. Finally, I am a completely evil and twisted human being, and I eat babies... with soy sauce.

Shit, idle banter sucks...AH HA! Mr. QH's clarification:

Dear fans of The Big Fuck,

I am really honored by The Big Fuck’s occasional feature of my
bag of tricks and would like to clarify certain issues for
clarity’s sake (obviously!).

First, I must give credit to two of my wise accomplices for
adding valuable tricks to the Mr. QH bag of tricks and
refining unrefined tricks. May we put our hands together for
The Big Fuck and the less-known Mr. ML! Go figure out who Mr.
ML is…

Second, for anyone who wants to try the Ipod trick, let me
clarify the details. I was fulfilling an AOL offer to help my
friend fulfill the Ipod offer. So after I completed ONE AOL
offer, I got ONE complimentary free magazine subscription!
Then behold the power of the Internet Explorer (IE was still
cool back then), I backspaced my way into the magazine
subscription page again. Then I applied THREE more times and
I got FOUR confirmation emails! Fantastic, I thought. BUT I
ended up with TWO magazine subscriptions (what screwed up?).
But never mind! I am delighted enough with my
deservedly-gotten gains (I helped someone get an Ipod, ok!) to
present you with the moral of the day so that you can enjoy
Wired and Stuff like me: Help someone today and you might end
up helping yourself!

Third, the “grab the railing” move was inspired by the hordes
of stupid bulls barging their way up the red SBS bus from the
side. You know, I am in the queue going up the bus (yes, I
queue up…what do you think huh? Mr. QH shoves everyone out of
the way and gets up the bus first? NO! The key here is
subtlety!), then you have these mindless bulls charging up
from the side (“so tricky”, Mr. ML will say). So what do I do
uh? Let them up and deprive my hot date a seat? Of course
not! So I devised this “grab the railing” move to reclaim
justice! Go try it today and earn yourself a seat today!

Mr. QH

Ah, Mr. QH is a funny guy, man.

Alright, finally - time for some Grand Theft Auto!



Today's rant brought to you by four bottles of Bitburger and a couple shots of Tequila.

Today's Blog Babe: addict, courtesy of Scarlett

How to Get Ahead (or at least in front)

So, I had dinner with Mr. QH today (you know, Mr. QH from the eat yourself silly post. I was in the library, studying, when he came up to me:

QH: Eh, what you doing?
Me: Wasting time lah, you blind is it?
QH: You eat already?
Me: No leh...why? Can you find a free dinner?
QH: Dunno...let's see...eh...I see first years.
Me: Steady, free dinner. You think it's ok?
QH: Aiyah, surely ok lah, I know them. Let's go!
Me: But...but...their dining plan is at the lousy dining hall!
QH: Yeah, that's true...what time is it?
Me: 6.30.
QH: Oh wait, we can look for the Singaporeans!
Me: Good idea!
QH: Let me just ask these guys, then if the first plan fails we got a BACK-UP PLAN!

So, over dinner, Mr. QH and I discussed yet more plans for getting small advantages in life. Honestly, few things are more important than the little battles you fight - getting in front of lines (why should you be in the back? OBVIOUSLY, your time is worth more than everyone elses!), getting to eat the most at dinner (after all, you're paying too, what - you have to MAXIMISE every cent, right? If your pennies aren't screaming, you aren't pinching them hard enough, you know!) and making sure you know EXACTLY when the next free stuff giveaway is (if YOU don't take the free stuff, someone else WILL). Mr. QH told me how he filled out the ipod offer THREE TIMES, not for an ipod, but for additional magazine subscriptions.

You might ask, why does Mr. QH do this? Are magazines really so interesting?

According to him, they're 'quite nice, what...you can read Wired and see what's hi-tech...not bad...free, you don't want meh?'

Mr. QH always has little rules. We discussed crowded buses as well. First, there are basic rules of positioning (these are quite simple - anticipate where the door will be and stand there; don't be a dodo and go and stand near the windows (you think you're the S.W.A.T. team or something, is it? Don't be stupid! You go into buses through the DOOR, not the window)! However, once you've done this, what about those guys who try and squeeze in front of you?



Mr. QH says: Just grab the railing!



By grabbing the railing, you cut off their path to the door, and if they push, you can just pull yourself up, guaranteeing that you will be FIRST up the bus. Well done!

Next, we have an addendum to the eating thing - some of you posted your suggestions, but none of them dealt with the concept of dinner conversation. Now, it is very obvious that you are stuffing your face if you don't talk. If you're eating non-stop, people are likely to think you're bad dinner company, anyway. The question, therefore, is how to maximise eating AND dinner conversation at the same time. Mr QH and I came to the conclusion that the best way is to ask questions the big eaters will want to answer - if they're football buffs, ask them about the coming season. If they're hardware geeks, ask them about the benefits of different sound cards. You get the picture. While these people are yakking, stuff your face. Be sure to pause occasionally, look interested, and make reassuring noises. If you're mouth is exceptionally full, interested grunts will also suffice.

Mr. QH wants to write a book with all his special tricks for getting ahead. I told him to start a blog instead, but he declined; he's too busy trying to squeeze himself a better GPA. He and I concluded that if you're about to receive an A- for a class, you're better off taking it pass/fail - after all, given our 3.8something GPAs, an extra 3.7 will pull you down, right? Think smart, people!

Besides, getting a blog will diminish his aura of mystery, he says.

We'll see, Mr. QH. We'll see.


Today's Blog Babe: crazy beautiful; yah lah, quite beautiful.

Roommate's New Pussy

So, is there some bizarre connection between women and cats? I have a couple friends who have cats; strikingly, all the cat owners I can think of are female. I'm sure I have some male friends who own cats, considering the number of guys I hang out with, but then, it seems to me that girls with cats are much more likely to turn into crazy cat women, calling their cats their 'babies', fussing over the cats all the time, taking pictures of their cats and so on. This, it seems to me, is highly unhealthy.

While cats are kind of cool, they are not your babies. These furry purring things did not come out of your wombs, alright? They are cats. Cats are animals, not humans. It's bad enough that new mothers shower us with pictures of their teeny tiny babies who can't even open their frigging eyes; some people, however, insist on showing us pictures of their MOTHERFUCKING CATS! Holy fuck! I want to step in and tell these ridiculous women to wake the fuck up and have some real babies instead, because then at least the fuss would be goddamn worth it. I mean, seriously.

I know, cats are damn cute. I like cats myself. Don't these girls know, however, that they're headed down the path towards becoming crazy cat ladies? It's insane! Insane, I tell you!

A couple weeks ago, my roommate begins asking me if I would be ok with us having a cat. Now, I actually kind of like cats; I think they're cool. What I'm not crazy about, however, is the idea of having to clean out this cat's shit and whatnot. However, my roommate's voice, the way she talks about cats, as well as the way she fawned over my friend's cats when I was taking care of them, all lead me to the conclusion that my roommate is a potential crazy cat lady in the making. I know better than to separate women and their prospective pets, so I sort of pussyfoot my way around the issue, in typical, grunty, non-committal fashion. I think I've mastered the 'whatever you want' grunt.

Random Person: "Is it ok if I [here I blank out]"
Me: *grunt* *mumble*
Random Person: blahblahblahblahblah?
Me: Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

This enables me to get back to my main occupation, namely blogging / playing Grand Theft Auto.

So, yesterday night, my roommate comes in with her parents (who were in town for the weekend) and a cat.

"Hey ... I got the cat."

Notice it is now the cat, instead of a cat. This is the first sign of cat-lady-itis. Seeing as to how the cat ran into my room and hid under my computer, the 'I got a cat statement' was also an exercise in stating the obvious. I don't think I was ever formally introduced to the cat, in that she didn't tell me its name (or she might have, but I wasn't listening); she sort of expected me to know the cat's name automatically, since I am now living in approximately the same space as this furball. Anyway, the cat's name is something ridiculous sounding, and it starts with a T ... Taytawhatthefuck or something like that.

I refuse to call the cat anything but xiao mao, and I speak to it exculsively in chinese. You may ask why. Well, I hate it when pets get stupid pretentious names. You know, those obscure foreign names with lots of strange, misplaced consonants, like 'Syskikkyylll' or 'Tylananana' or stupid shit like that. Why don't people name their pets normal names like 'Bob'? If you want to give your pet a stupid polysyllabic pet name, why not call it 'enema' or 'constipatia'? That way, at least the whole world will know you have something stuck up your ass.

Seriously, though, when naming pets, try something that doesn't sound stupid and pretentious, like 'the rocket dog' or 'super awesome mutt' or 'fluffy'. These are all cool pet names, because I've either heard of them, or readily understand what they mean. My godparents named their dog 'sui sui', because they said (in chinese) that they were very 'sui bian' in giving the dog a name. I think this is an awesome pet name. Taytablahblahbullshit, on the other hand, is a far inferior name to something simple like 'cat'. I mean, for crying out loud, it's a cat, right? I love cats named cat.

Other than that, though, to be honest, I kind of like the cat, and I think the little guy kind of likes me. He spends a lot of time in my room, trying to gnaw at cables; I tell him he's a stupid cat and tell him to stop it, but the stupid cat doesn't understand chinese, I think. Stupid cat. I suppose he likes me because we're up at the same ungodly hours. Here's a picture of the cat making a jackass of himself:



Yes, the cat likes climbing all over my desk. I was typing, and the cat seemed to be amazed to see words on the screen. I was watching the cat, and then I got an idea. I opened up paint, and painted a cat on the screen. Holy shit, the stupid cat flipped the fuck out. It started meowing and pawing at the screen. I had to close the picture, because I didn't want the stupid cat scratching my monitor. I wonder what it'll do when it sees the webcam.

Oh yeah, that's right, it'll chew at the cables. The stupid cat loves chewing at cables.

You can't hold these things against cats, though, because at the end of the day, cats are cute. The little guy loves hiding around my computer. Perhaps he likes it because it's dark and cozy. Or maybe he just loves having all those cables.

'Oi, cat, stop chewing at my fucking cables!'

Ok, now he's on my backpack, getting ready for sleep:



Yeah, he's cute, I cannot deny this. I just wish he'd stop chewing at cables and learn some chinese already.

I'm going to endeavour not to write any more about the cat, lest I become a crazy cat guy.


Today's Blog Babe: warnjai; another xanga, with another bunch of pictures. Whoopee!

With Regards to Yesterday's Entry: I'm not really sure what's going on, and if it's a false alarm, but it seems that my family might be relocating or something like that. It was just big news to me, and left a lot of things to be considered. If you're interested in the details of that, you can always email me. It's not that big a deal, though. Thanks for expressing concern and whatever (yes, all 6 of you)

Some days...

Some days, you're minding your own business, and then you get one of those pieces of news which makes you think, wait, what's going on? It might not exactly be earth shattering, and it's not exactly catastrophic, but somehow, it's big. And it needs to be dealt with - somehow.

Sometimes, I wish someone would just tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to do.

I'll be back with a rant eventually, but for now I'm just a little winded.


In the meantime...

Today's Blog Babe: Mellifluous; see, I so take care of you all, hor?

Some People Should Just Shut Up.

So, I started reviewing blogs for the weblog review today. I figure that while I might not exactly be a world-famous, top-quality blogger per se, I'm pretty good at telling good blogs from crap blogs. Man, reviewing blogs is kind of tiresome. Due to the fact that I feel like I owe it to the bloggers I review to read through at least 60 or 70 percent of their entries before pronouncing judgement, I found myself trudging through banal comment after banal comment, wishing that someone would come along and shoot me because my brain was going numb from the sheer repetitiveness of it all.

Again, let me state that I have nothing against the people who write mundane blogs. I figure it's your right to write stupid, wankathon blogs about your mundane, wanky life, and share them with your wanker friends if you so choose. What I absolutely cannot comprehend, however, is why these people, who are ostensibly (I love that word, ostensibly) writing about their personal lives, choose to submit their sites to the weblog review. What are they hoping for? Are they hoping that a reviewer will find their writing style exquisitely beautiful, and bring publishers to give them a book deal? Are they hoping that they will have a sudden influx of readers taking an interest in their mundane-ass lives? Or, perhaps, here's my favourite theory - perhaps they're hoping that people reviewing their blogs will tell them, 'hey, so-and-so, your life is cool! You are cool! Hey, so-and-so, you rock!'

Seriously, man, this shit is not going to happen. Here's my advice; if a typical entry in your blog is something along the lines of, 'wah...today was XXX event, I went with A and B and C. it was fun / not fun / funny / totally boring / the most amazing thing I've seen since the last amazing thing I saw' or 'today I saw this movie, it was good, too much violence, blahblahblah' - yeah, if your blog consists of nothing more than this sort of thing, and perhaps the occasional quizilla result, you are, in all likelihood, writing for yourself and your friends. Do as all a favour, and keep your blog to your little circle. Occasionally (and I mean, very occasionally), you will come across bloggers who relate their experiences in an engaging, thought-provoking, and, if you're lucky, amusing way. However, you don't swing this by writing two line entries about how your day went, and you CERTAINLY don't achieve this by being long and tedious.

Here are my tips for making your blog bearable to an audience who does not know your friends, does not know you, and does not know why they should read your blog. I know that several 'how to blog' guides are already out there, but, if you're thinking of getting other people to read your blogs, here's a little checklist:

1) For the love of all that is good, edit your posts. I admit, I'm not exactly the best when it comes to doing this, but seriously, it would be great for blogging if people at least gave their entries a once-over before posting them. Keep your entries as short as they possibly can be. I like to rant, but then, I'm an angry guy like that. At least I skim what I've written a couple times before I post it. If you can't even be bothered to read what you write before you post it, don't expect anyone else to be bothered to read it, either. Except your wanky friends, of course.

2) Throw in a picture or two, if at all possible. Again, there are exceptions to this, but unless you write really well, (and I mean really well), it always pays to throw in a couple of pictures to break the monotony. Nothing's more intimidating, and frankly annoying, than a shitload of words. What, you think people don't read enough at school / the office / on road signs, is it? Please, everyone here can read. That's beside the point. Spare us your monologues.

I know, I get wordy. But hey, I think I write really well. Sue me.

3) Don't offend me with your goddamn template. If you don't know what I mean, read this entry by me, or this entry by the calm one or this entry by Adrian. There you have it, 3 fairly good bloggers agree: a lot of sites have sucky templates, and should never see the light of internet day. If you have one of these sites, don't spam your friends tagboards with demands that they link you; don't advertise your site all over the place. Change your template to something manageable like minima, then grow a brain.

Ok, those are just the basic, basic, basic things I can come up with off the top of my head. The underlying principle behind all this, however, is simple - there are two types of blogs - blogs which actually take into account the fact that they are written for other, reasonably intelligent human beings, and blogs written for giggling pre-pubescent morons; before you think about plugging your blog, therefore, it would help a GREAT DEAL if you were to reflect on whether your blog was worth plugging in the first place.

That being said, I suppose I have to grudgingly respect self-confidence. Thus, I am plugging the following blogs. Read them if you will:

Following my Xiaxue Killers post, lots of people have been asking me to feature blogs with good-looking guys in them. Seeing as to how I don't give a monkey's backside whether a guy is good-looking or not, I am unable to recommend any. However, I was going to chinatown the other day with a friend, when he said something to the effect of, 'eh, I'm quite handsome what, feature me, lah.'

I've heard some female friends actually saying this guy is fairly handsome, so I suppose there's no harm. Go see for yourself, lah. Oh, and I think he was actually joking, so I'm totally sabo-ing him here. I'm such a good friend, hor?

The other volunteer I have actually used the age-old 'Hi, I linked you' ruse - bloggers like me like being linked. I almost always check out blogs which link me. When I checked this blog, however, I found that it's owner had nominated himself as one of the potentially up-and-coming male bloggers. I have no comment. Except perhaps that shamelessness is damn amusing to me. In a good way.

Finally, I have to plug my teaching assistant's blog, because she's trying to get money to pay for something she bought very foolishly or something. I'm plugging this blog totally because I think this is a worthy cause, and not because I think she will give me better grades if I do nice things like this (Heh, heh). What type of guy do you think I am, anyway?

Ok, sorry for going on like this. I will stop now.

Today's Blog Babe: Angela; I think there's some background music playing somewhere on this site, but given that I find the song relatively unannoying, I'm willing to let it slide.

Blogdom's Little Miss and Mr Men

So, I was checking my comments today, and I had made some comment about how I'm occasionally an asshole, and how wearing sunglasses indicates how I can be an asshole sometimes. Little Miss Drinkalot then very wittily replied that I would 'need to wear sunglasses for a while'. Ouch, that cut deep, Little Miss Drinkalot. I've been zinged.

So, anyway, I've always liked Little Miss Drinkalot's online pen-name. I mean, who didn't like the Mr. Men and Little Misses? I figured that, in response to her cutting remark, I would draw a picture of what Little Miss Drinkalot the Little Miss character would look like:



After making that one, though, I found I couldn't stop. Who else could I do? There are no other blogging little misses (or at least, none that I really want to make caricatures of). There are, however, two very spoof-able Mr. Men.

I give you:

Mr Miyagi!



Ok, I didn't really know what I could do for Mr. Miyagi, so I tried to make him look a little like the karate kid character. I think it's kind of funny.

And finally, Mr. Brown:



I know, after this, all of you must be itching to make your own Mr. Men - if you don't have artistic talent, it's ok; you can still go to the Mr. Men site and make your own! They won't be as stunningly awesome as mine, though, of course.

Ok, that's enough for one day.


Oh yes, shoutout to Celly, who demands to be thanked for giving me traffic, I think - I vaguely recall her saying something about that, so yes, here you go. Huzzah.

Today's Blog Babe: I enjoy being a slut.; since Adrian's been plugging her, and I've been reading her, I think it's about time to feature her. Oh yeah, I'm beginning to run a little low on girls with lots of pictures whose blogs don't irritate the shit out of me; hurry up and recommend me some, leh!

Nothing to Report, Sir!

A little tired for blogging today; I just got back from two performances for panasia. One of which was this:



My buddy and I did a rendition of Ye Qi Tian's 'Ai Pia Jia Eh Yia'; to pre-empt any questions, no, I cannot sing. Yes, I was awesome, yes, we were fucking hillarious, yes, you should have been there, and yes, the competition wasn't exactly super intense. I flailed my arms a little and danced (in slow motion) on stage, and everyone had a good time. I also was talked into MC-ing the event, which is why I'm absolutely pooped.

Blog admin only, then, for today - I'll be back soon with something worth reading. For now, though, for those of you in the States, help me (and yourself) get a free ipod; I was browsing mlle.b's blog when I came across her plea for another ipod; being the sucker for free ipods that I am, I clickety clicked my way into one of these referral deals. Apparently, though, she's gotten one free ipod out of this already, and her next is already on its way. I covet ipods. So should you. I'll tell you what - if you clickety click your way through the referral thing, and let me know about it, I will put YOUR link on my sidebar, helping you in your quest for a free ipod. Good deal, right? Offer valid to first five dudes who let me know, so be quick about it, yah?

I figure, hell, I have traffic, I might as well capitalize on it. Yes.

Also, while talking to Mlle.B, I realized that, while her traffic increased by a whopping 200 hits today, not one person left a comment on her page (except me, when I left a trail of cyber drool all over her pretty white site); come on, guys! We like pretty girls. We like pictures of pretty girls. If we tell them we like their pictures, it is likely they will post more pretty pictures. Thus, it is a good idea to tell them that we like their pictures. Furthermore, considering all these blogs are fairly under-visited, you can be sure that their owners will be receptive to comments. Do the clever thing - get into the good books of promising bloggers while you still can. Even if you don't want the traffic, you can always say you got to know them first, right? I just checked her blog, and she's put up a couple more photos today, if anyone is interested. Leave her some love, and tell her I sent you, so that she likes me more and I can hit on her so that she will think you are a polite person.

Anyway, I was surfing the interweb, and I found a website called purevolume; it has lots of downloadable music from unsigned artists and the like, which always makes me happy, since I can listen to really fucking obscure music and seem like the coolest dude in the world. Let's face it, music which nobody else has heard of, yet is strangely good, that is cool. Once things get popular, it's just that much less cool to like them. Yeah, argue all you want, it's true. Shut up.

Anyway, I found a band called Chinese Ghost.

Here's there cover art:



If you decide to go listen to them, listen to their song 'miracle'; it's strangely familiar, isn't it?

Sounds a little like Sun Yan Zi?

That's because it totally is! What the hell? I feel like exposing them, but then, I'm too lazy. Any takers?

Final note for the day: I've added yet another little link button, in case anyone wants to use it. It's so small and cute, isn't it? Put it on your page today! Hurrah!

Today's Blog Babe: the future is bright; don't just lurk, hor! Say nice things!

Game Over

Here's a conversation I had with a friend of mine just over a month ago, we'll call him J; I had just started reading xiaxue's blog; I thought it was cool.

J: what's the big deal anyway? isn't she just very normal?
Me: You know how many hits she gets a day?
J: how many?
Me: Like, almost 10,000.
J: har? really? why?
Me: I don't know. But man, that's a lot of hits.
J: ya lar...she's so funny meh?
Me: I think she's pretty good reading.
J: wah, 10,000 in a day?
Me: That's a lot of hits.
J: yeah, boy - who's reading her?
Me: Singaporeans, I guess
Me: Singaporeans love reading blogs.
J: really?
Me: I guess.
J: haha...yeah.
Me: Damn it lah, I should get 10,000 hits, I'm quite good what.
J: haha, i bet you couldn't even get 10,000 hits in a month
Me: Heh...what if I can?
J: i treat you to dinner lar.
Me: Sure or not?
J: haha...can...
J: if you lose then how?
Me: Eh...10,000 is damn hard, leh.
Me: You think easy ah?
J: haha, true, true...
J: so i am right, then.
Me: Fuck you.
Me: I will show you.
Me: You have yourself a bet.
J: eh, cheap dinner only hor
J: i got no money

If you notice, the web counter was started on March the 14th, 2005. It's now early in the morning of April the 13th, and, as it stands, I've gotten just over 10,500 hits. I have thus safely won myself a cheap dinner. Yes, that's right, I've been blog whoring myself for about 10 bucks. But you know what, it's not the cheap dinner that matters, it's the pride. Also, it's the fact that I had nothing better to do. Thanks to all of you for making this happen; if any of you are interested to know how I blog whored my way to success, well, I could post a guide to blog whoring, since I've been thinking so much about it. To be honest, though, for the past month I've been blogging like crazy - at least two hours a day on average. Now that the work's beginning to pile up, I might just have to ease up on this craziness a tiny bit, and get back to leading a normal life.

Yes, it's a triumph for cynical, clinical blogging. Hurrah for having a plan (and getting a couple lucky breaks)!

For your reference, though, here's a path to my 10,000:

March 15 - Xiaxue does a post on iq tests; I realize that this is a key moment in which I can siphon traffic, and post a funny reply. Based on that, my hits go straight up to 300 on the first day of operation, which is not bad for a first day of operation. I still get hits from that link; it's fucking amazing.

March 22 - The sexyblogger meme proves to be a godsend; I post my contribution on March 23rd; between my catchy website title and my *ahem* alternative sexyblogger pictures, I manage to yet again up my audience.

April 1 - I shoot myself in the foot with my April Fool's joke; site traffic drops, and doesn't recover till the 4th.

April 4 - After a series of mediocre posts, I come up with my online quiz post as well as my indictment of shit blogs. The second post, while being not so fantastic, sees me brown-ed; somewhere around this time, I notice my site on Mr. Miyagi's handroll.

April 9 - I make the Xiaxue killers post, and my victory is a mere formality. When the traffic skyrockets, I make a series of filler posts to ensure that it doesn't drop too rapidly. Fortunately, there are enough people sticking around to push the traffic just over 10,000.

Yay! I have a free dinner!

I'd like to thank:

1) Adrian - man, this guy was one of the first to link me, and definitely the first to plug me. This shows his exquisite taste in blogs. Actually, this guy really does have some pretty fucking good taste in blogs; every time he plugs a blog, I check it out, and it's quality. I'd been reading Celly's blog for a while when he plugged it, and I've been thinking "shit, I wished I'd plugged her first" ever since. Seriously, you should go read his blog, not only because it is cool, but also because he has a fucking good eye for the funny.

2) Mr. Miyagi - dude, this guy is arguably one of the nicest major bloggers in the Singapore blogging scene, in terms of linking you. I was plodding along, trying to get into the sidebars of Cowboy Caleb or Adri (she finally linked me in the end, though, so all the hard work paid off); I didn't think I'd be able to make it past surf stop, but wow, this guy is really nice. And cool. Thanks, man!

3) Cheng Yan Yan, for having such ridiculously high traffic that I was convinced I should be able to do it too.

4) Mr. Brown, of course, for brown-ing me.

5) Each and every one of you. Yay, you guys! You are clever!

Alright, now I'm going to slow down on the blog-whoring; like I said, if you want my secrets to blog-whoring gleaned after a month of intense blog-whoring (I think I'm pretty good at it, too), I can write a simple guide to increasing your traffic, while being:
a) not all that attractive
b) not all that intelligent
and c) kind of crazy.

For now, though, I'm going to sleep, and I'm going to wait for my fucking free dinner. Yeah.

Oh, right, before I sign out:


Today's Blog Babe: EGOMANIA SYNDICATED - for the first time, I'm featuring a girl I (sort of) know in real life. I just ran into her today, and I have to say that, for all of you who don't trust blurry webcam pics, this is the girl you should be stalking. She goes to my school, which is allegedly ridiculously difficult, and she's kicking it's ass, which means she's also ridiculously smart. So yes, this is one of those brains and beauty combinations, once again. Oh yeah, she writes real good, too. Clickety click your way to her page as fast as you can!

Eat Yourself Silly

It's happened to you before. You're at a chinese restaurant, and you order a couple dishes. Someone at the table says, 'is that enough?'

Some people have their doubts, but invariably, the standard reply will come - 'it's ok, if there isn't enough, we can always order more.'

So many times, there just isn't enough food to go around; but then, once everything has been eaten, who would REALLY order a second round? You end up going home a little hungry, and before you know it, you're awake at midnight, trying to think of where to go for supper, where you'll have to spend even MORE money.

I know, you're not rich, neither am I, which is why I've decided to publish a friend's (we'll call him Mr. QH) secrets to eating more at a Chinese restaurant (with my expert commentary, of course).



1) PICK YOUR OPPONENTS.

This rule only applies in very select circumstances, but it is fundamental to eating as much as you can. There is a very simple rule of thumb; 65% of the female population is permanently on diet, with 50% of the remaining 35% being able to eat very little. Thus, only about 17.5% of women eat as much as men. You have to watch out for guys, especially fat guys or atheletes. Both are very dangerous due to their healthy appetites. Of course, forewarned is forearmed; the more you know about eating habits, the better you can gauge which table at a free-seating banquet to sit at. If there are many empty seats, see who's sitting there - pretty girls always attract more male company. The best bet is a table almost filled with girls.

Here are some sample tables:





2) GETTING STARTED

Usually, at chinese dinners, there is always soup, be it sharks' fin, or a poorer imitation. Soon after the soup, they usually serve a cold dish; which do you eat first?



Many of you will answer the soup. YOU ARE WRONG! You may argue that the soup, once cold, will not be nice. However, you are forgetting that the cold dish is the first communal dish to be served, just as everyone is hungry. Be sure to get your share! The soup is already yours; if you're lucky, someone at the table might not like their soup and you might even get TWO bowls; the cold dish, however, will always have people willing to eat it. Make sure you eat all the jellyfish you can, before it disappears. Pineapple slices / cherry bits are also quite popular, so be sure to attack those before the other greedy bastards at your table beat you to it.

3) THE MEAL ITSELF: DETERMINING WHAT IS "YOURS"

Here, we move into the real intricacies of this guide. Based on the basic principle outlined above, we already see that some things are 'yours' whereas some things at a dinner are 'communal'. Soup, being individually portioned, is obviously yours. You can thus save it for later, while happily tucking into all the rest of the food. The same also goes for rice. With the dishes in the centre, though, it's slightly harder to tell. Determining what is logically 'yours', therefore, is thus integral to making sure you don't get ripped off.

First, anything with clear-cut portions is easily divisible. For example, let's say there are five chicken wings, and five people eating. You know for sure that one is yours. The same goes for dim sum. If there's four pieces of siu mai, and four of you eating, one is DEFINITELY yours; it's very bad form of other people to deny you your siu mai tasting rights, after all. You can thus safely ignore these dishes in the initial feeding frenzy.

Next, anything with large bones that remain on your plate (chicken / duck / pork chop with bone) or shells (crab, prawn, lobster) are very easy to keep track of. People who eat a lot of these will immediately be recognizable from their large pile of animal remnants on their plates. Thus, you can go slow with these things. If you see people piling up large piles of shells, be sure to ask them, in as pointed a fashion as you can, something to the effect of, 'hey, is the chicken nice?'

This will draw attention to their greediness, and they will eat slower, because they will think that everyone is watching them. Seize this opportunity to eat more.

4) HOT PROPERTY

Obviously, some things disappear faster than others. The keropok on the chicken dishes, for example, is obviously a hot commodity. This must always be terminated with extreme prejudice. You can keep some on your plate, but be aware that keropok is very visible. Better to chow down on it as quickly as possible, to avoid a noticeable trail of food. Fish, as well, is usually extremely popular, due to the fact that it's expensive, and also delicious. Regard the image below:

Disclaimer: Mr. QH says it's often good to let keropok go, since it's yucky, and also cheap. Go for the fish. Keropok can be made at home, and is for little kids. Real eaters know better.



As you can see, the fish has been totally devoured early on in the dinner, as well as most of the keropok on the chicken. Hopefully, this makes it obvious which elements you should target first.

As a general rule of thumb, however, meat with no bones is always hot property. Don't worry about your rice, you can always eat it with the onions later, since nobody eats the onions. You're a growing individual, and you need your protein.

5) YOUR PLATE

Your plate can obviously serve as a buffer zone, allowing you to store certain 'hot' commodities, such as that extra bit of fish, or the little bit of meat. However, anything remaining on your plate for too long can become painfully conspicuous. Always remember, clear your plate early, clear it often, and try to get it discreetly changed by the service whenever possible so that you look like you've been eating less than you have.

6) ADVANCED TACTICS

One of the best things about Chinese cuisine is the ability to serve other people ... with the things you already know are rightfully theirs. Give the biggest eater at the table his share of the chicken early, and he'll have to eat it, or appear greedy, ungrateful, or both. This will occupy him, and free you up to eat all the hotplate beef, you tricky bugger.

Also, don't hold back on ordering something extra. If you feel like having a little glass of wine, indulge yourself. When the bill comes, few people will be thick skinned enough to point out that you had more than your fair share, but hey, you'll go home just that much happier.

Along similar lines, when doing the ordering, don't hesitate to order something you like, which isn't very popular around the table. Always obey your craving for pig liver, chicken feet or random intestines. Challenge your eating buddies to be adventurous, enjoy most of the adventure yourself, then split the bill cleanly down the middle. Sweet.

Other advanced tactics include drawing attention subtly to big eaters. Be sure not to be too obvious; if you appear to care too much, the game is up. Gentle ribbing always works; some other greedy person at the table will get in on the act, and soon you will be able to distract attention away from yourself to the other big eaters, while you chow down.

7) FINALLY

Always be sure not to point out that you've eaten more than everyone else. You don't want your friends resenting you when the bill comes along. Wait for other people to comment on their state of satiety, especially if you suspect everyone else ate less than you. If you've stuffed yourself silly at everyone else's expense, and they want to go for round 2, always cite being tired, rather than full, as your excuse for heading home to sleep off those well fought for calories.

Hopefully, this helped you in your quest to stuff your face. Until next time, dig in, pig out and get more bang for your buck!


Today's Blog Babe: The Mail Order Bride; she would have made it to the original post, but then, seeing as to how she made all her livejournal archives friends only, there are occasional picture droughts on her site. Don't be like that, leh, miss, we're all very friendly, you know.