1Bangsa, 1Negara, 1Malaysia

cute girl + ugly guy = Gold Digger

ugly girl + handsome guy = Hidden Agenda

ugly girl + ugly guy = "Kill Them Before They Lay Eggs!"

cute girl + handsome guy = "They Must Feel Insecure"

Achievement Unlocked: We Are One

aren't we all?

What's In A Name?

now this post may be offensive. tread lightly. but whatever.

I warned you.

may I know your name? what does it mean? do you even know what it means? if you know the meaning, does it satisfy you?

some of your names may or will suck, I know. because mine suck like the tentacles of an octopus. I'm just saying though. it's a good name of course, being one of the Prophet Muhammad's sahabat and all, but the meaning kinda sucks.

Abu Dzar = father of small things

hence my size, I guess.

I want a name that's got a great and deep meaning, like Saifuddin (the sword of religion) or Dzulqarnain (two-horn) or even Akmal (perfection), but we all know that's out of the question; I'm stuck with "father of small things" til the day I die.

don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about my name. in fact, I'm quite grateful because people can easily remember my name.

however, I must say I am not a big fan of kids nowadays' names that are a mouthful just to pronounce (I am not going to name these names out of respect and fear of my reputation). the saddest thing is that some of these elaborate names have no meaning whatsoever. it's just a random permutation of vowels and consonants that looks aesthetically pleasing and "cool" to say, or unique.

I pity these kids. let's just look at some celebrity's kids' names. Gwyneth Paltrow's kid is called Apple. who the hell names their kid after a fruit? Nic Cage's son is named Kal-El, after the true name of everyone's favourite superhero, Superman. needless to say, Nic Cage is an idiot. ha. ha.

another issue haunting our society is the stupid mentality of downgrading names that are not of Arabic origin. I mean, why? as long as it's got a good meaning right? why would someone think a name like Himar (ass as in the animal) would be better than Shinji (faith) just because Himar is Arabic? this is preposterous.

so I'm just saying to my generation, because most of us don't have kids yet, please, if you truly love your future kids, name them properly. it doesn't matter what language you use, just make sure their names have good meanings.

oh just do what you want, I don't give a rat's ass.

posted from Bloggeroid

The Theory No-One Understands

as a fat guy, I sometimes face tricky situations related to my physical state. some are annoying, some I get by through the mantra "I've done this before, this isn't a problem" I recite countless of times while facing said situation.

there is one situation though, that I particularly dislike (a word I choose as to not use strong negatives).

let me explain this phenomenon with the use of points, because I'm a lazy fat guy;

- hot day

- need to wear shirt/baju melayu

- fat guys sweats like wet towel

- wear t-shirt under or not?

see the problem? I hate being sweaty. as much as girls like sweaty muscular guys, I hate sweat (I protect my muscles under layers of fat).

so if I don't wear a t-shirt underneath, the hot sun will melt me like a brownie in a microwave oven. but if I do wear a *protective* t-shirt underneath, the heat that my body generates will have a problem getting away from me, and that will make me sweat even more I'll be a walking, talking wet towel.

the simple solution here would be not wearing a t-shirt underneath right? but no. not wearing a t-shirt may make me sweat less, but "sweat less" in this context means "sweat like you've run a marathon", and everyone can and will see it. I don't want that. it ruins my self-esteem (blergh).

so wear a t-shirt underneath, right? also no. read what I wrote above and you'll understand, though if you have to read it again, I presume you won't understand. I hate sweat. people may not see me sweating, but I feel me sweating and all wet underneath. I hate it. period.

another hate post. sweet. I don't really care though. it's the internet. it's just, I don't care.

posted from Bloggeroid

Injustice

Injustice, is when all Muslims are terrorists when Osama kills, but Zionists are "fighting for their land"

Injustice, is when food is wasted, but people are starving

Injustice, is when the deaf are labelled unfortunate for their lack of hearing, but at least they need not hear the bullshit of the world

Injustice, is when one says he cannot, but in reality he truly can

then what is justice? justice is when there is absolute injustice. because there is no Dark Knight in this world to dissipate the clouds that shroud justice

yes. we are shrouded by clouds of injustice that justify it, turning turd into turf, injustice to justice.

posted from Bloggeroid

placebo, only negative

willpower. one of the most powerful force in this universe.

a more plebian term would be placebo. but screw me, I might be wrong. and I don't give a damn. because when you create strength, you make-believe. make-believe is placebo. so fuck you and your diction.

negative placebo. think about it. it kills. what's not there is there. what's there is not there. what's not supposed to kill you, kills you. what kills you, doesn't kill you.

confused? don't be. you may well be under negative placebo. don't believe it? reflect. still can't see it? grab a spoon and spoon your eye out.

it kills. trust me, it kills. it's killing someone dear to me, at this very moment. so please. detect it in yours, spoon the frack out of him/her, and save him/her.

negative placebo. before anything. before it's too late.

posted from Bloggeroid

The Bird of Life

the bird of life is calling me to kill it. why do I care what it wants? I've lived my whole life pretending a bird was carrying my essence of life would one day come to me and say "here, take this, it will rejuvenate you and make you feel better."

now it wants me to kill it. the internet jargon for this phenomenon would be FML I believe.

so what would dreams become of? a bird who carries your life comes down and requests you to kill it? that's wrong. why would it want me to kill it? it's called the bird of life for a reason right? so, if a [insert noun here] of life wants to commit suicide, or asks to be murdered, what's the point of calling it a [insert noun here] of life?

maybe I'll snap out of this. hopefully. one day. I don't wanna kill my bird of life. though it does suck to know that a bird, a simple bird (God knows what bird, all I know is that it fits on my palm) is tasked to carry my life. why wouldn't a pterodactyl or a Ho-oh carry it for me? that would be a lot more awesome. and I don't think that they will come at me and ask to be murdered.

what can I say?

Eff. Emm. Ell.

.

can this thing really work?

posting via 3rd party blogger app on my Galaxy SII. testing

posted from Bloggeroid

Everyman

Everyman;
knows he dies,
when he dies.

Everyman;
knows the pain,
when he pains.

Everyman;
knows the joy,
when he joys.

Some say
we need time
to wonder why.

Everyman;
he says go,
and he goes.

Some say
stay back and
let time heal.

Everyman
does what
every man does.

the uber feeling

had the weirdest shower on Friday morning. seriously, it's like none I've ever had.

I went inside the shower cubicle, small as it may be, but enough to stuff my humongous but beautifully crafted body inside it, and I hung my towel on the door. By then I was only in my shorts, ready to test my mettle with the Arctic waters of the morning shower.

Squeak. And the water poured as if it hated the containment of the shower head (it even poured from the sides of the head, not just the little holes). A few drops fell on my tender skin and I squealed like a girl pinched in the butt by her teacher for not finishing her homework.

Huff. A deep breath for a deep journey. I took a step forward. If Mordor had a reciprocal equivalent, this was it. Puff. The deep breath wasn't enough. Horse-like syllables spewed out of my collagen-filled lips, a signal of coldness I presumed. Then the weirdest thought came to me.

This was to be my last bath in KMS.

Suddenly the cold receptors in my flawless skin lost its sensitivity. So was my brain. I stared at the hideous wall of the shower and recalled every bit of memory I had in this wretched college. It was all too fast. The 35mm film that contained my memory raced by so fast I only caught glimpses of my memories. Then again, it could be because of the severe cold that my elegant body was enduring subconsciously.

A shake of the head was enough to bring me back to my senses. The cold had mysteriously eluded me, and I was comfortable. Meh. I reached for my liquid soap and then something struck again. Something far more serious than before. Something physical. Something painful. Something severely painful.

It was coming from my perfectly-soft-but-pretty lower abdomen, and it felt like Thor took a swing at it. I only had curses then. Curses and curses. Hexes and jinxes. Spells and enchantments. As I held my gorgeous lower abdomen, yet another thought came into my mind. What was this intense feeling? Was my voluptuous body trying to signal something? Some sentimental message? Did it tried to warn me of inextricable feelings I had for the cursed place that is KMS?

Slowly I looked up the shower and let the already-nicely-temperatured water down my stunning face. I tried to lose myself in the thoughts of the God-forsaken place. I lured my memories, the ones that was in the 35mm film, to playback itself slowly, in a manner that was comprehensible for me. Somehow the bastard controlling the projector and I was not on the same wavelength.

Squeak. The water now approached warp speed. Jenson Button would be envious of its speed. It also started to hurt my delicate face and make its way up my perfect nostrils and up my sinus. Fffuah. I let go my million dollar face from the barbaric nature of the water and let it massage my tender-but-tense shoulders. Yet after all my attempts at memory-hunting, that intense pressure on my Michaelangelo-sculpted lower abdomen had yet to subside.

Was I hindering my own mind into creating sustainable memories? Was I stopping myself from having fun? Was this some kind of punishment my jaw-dropping body gave to me because I never cherished these unholy grounds? I gave in. I felt a frown on my super-attractive face. How could I be so stupid? I made myself not enjoy the time I had in college, even after mom said "have fun!" every time she dropped me back here. I felt so.....disgusted. I wasted two good years, the final of my teenage years, for nothing. My ego had the better of me and now I had two years of memory deleted just like that. So swift it didn't even wait for the magician's "poof!"

I always like the rinsing part of a shower. It makes me feel as though all the ugly stuff are washed away from my sensational body. But not that day. No matter how much I rinsed, no amount of ice-cold-but-yet-very-comfortable water could wash away that feeling I had. Yes, that emotional upheaval originating from the lower abdomen that makes the statue of David green with envy, mine.

Squeak. I think I showered with water equivalent to the River Nile that morning. I dried my amazing self with frowns that would make Disneyland ban me from entering. The pain was still there, never taking away even a Del from itself. I held it with my sexy hands and slowly walked away from the last shower I will ever use in KMS. It's sad when the only vivid memory you have of college is the shower, I thought. An insincere but uncontrollable smile suddenly sketched itself on my flourishingly-red lips, and I stood in front of the mirror, seeing the pathetic yet gorgeous human being imaged on it. Behind me was the toilet.

Again, uncontrollably, my astonishing body walked itself into the toilet and sat down with a thud. Then the most uncontrollable, the mother of all uncontrollable things happened. My awe-inspiring face lit up with enjoyment.

Kaboom. I took one of the hugest dump in my life. The pain immediately simmered away. I was okay.

The most sincere smile followed afterwards. I'll never miss this place. Not a chance. Not in this life, nor the next. Though I must say, those thoughts I had in the shower, what were those? Ah well, it's over now. No use crying over spilt milk, says the cliche bastards.

Keep calm and shit

you know that annoying feeling when, you thought you just finished your shit, then you wash your ass right?
then as you wash, some more shit come out and it lands on your hands and you frantically wash it off.
then you give another push, but nothing comes out and you say "awww shit" (which is redundant).
then you have to wash your ass again.

you, my friend, have been living in luxury you may not deserve.

and yes, the feeling is...shitty (lame)

ciao