I'm A Girl

I've always been bombarded with compliments that doesn't quite fit my gender. Yes, people actually said,

"Vince you are so goddamn beautiful!"

OK, the 'goddamn' is too much lah. I don't think I have that godlike beauty, yet. And the compliments don't just come one time. It comes to me like parliamentarians unloading a full crock of shit in parliament.

And a licentious friend of mine ever offered to make me up so I don't let my congenital beauty go to waste. For free.

But sod it. I will be beautiful if I'm a friggin girl lah! Which I am not. I am a perfectly masculine guy with the testosterone level that will impregnate any girl who have just 10 seconds of body contact with me.

Right. Trash talk again I know.

But the point is, I never thought I really looked like a girl, until recently. I've notice the affinity of a girl's face whenever I'm in some awkward position. Yes, to certain reluctant extent, I have to admit - I do look like a girl.

And so be it lah. So what if I look like a girl? Its not like a girl-lookalike can't end up in bed with another girl. Its not like there's any law in the world that condemns girl-lookalike. Its not like there are organisations that goes around and pours acid on girl-lookalike. Oh wait, I think there is.

But, look, if God decided to endow a girl's face on a perfectly macho biological body, too bad lah!

Well, in some way I look like a girl hor?

But contrary to popular belief, I swear I did not apply a single molecule of make-up on my face, wear fake-eyelashes, fake eyebrows, fake pupil-enlarging contact lenses, fake hair, fake boobs.

And no, I did not Photoshop it OK? Its 100% original. Like the Pavilion's Louis Vuitton.

And you know who the heck I look like?

Yeah, I look like you hor, RuiRui?

And together, we look like this.

What? Really what. Its not our fault that we have big eyes.

Tweet

Pretty Please

Before before before I begin, I would like to enquire with the greatest honour mankind has ever upheld,

"CAN ANYONE SPARE ME AN INVITATION TO THIS THURSDAY'S PRINCE OF PERSIA SPECIAL SCREENING??"

Pretty please? Heh. Initially, I couldn't make it for the screening because of some goddamn useless class Malaysian Studies. But now that the class had concluded and wrapped up, I'm available again on Thursdays!

But dammit, I don't have a friggin pass to the screening.

So so so, any good Samaritans out there who are charitable at heart and practices philanthropy, your munificence is heavily appreciated and splendidly gratified.

It means you are good-looking lah if you spare me an invitation.

I know you guys are all very nice people who are apparently going to the screening all by yourself, *ahem*Alvin *ahem* Baboon *ahem* Henry *ahem* Jayleo *ahem* and and and I'm gonna be a really nice person by accompanying you!

Know what, I will even drive you there IN YOUR CAR so you can sit back and feel like a taukeh/taukeh soh with a driver. Eh, you get to enjoy the hospitality of someone that looks like this OK,

And free of charge somemore.

What, really la, I do look like that guy OK. No wait, I should say Jake Gyllenhaal look like me OK?

Heh. I know you think I'm an asshole right. Huh! You know what,

And,

Right. Kidding kidding kidding! Don't so serious lah!

Pleeeeeeeeease spare me an extra pass aight! Thanks!

Tweet

Facebook

Screw Facebook! (Covering face and crotch while yelling)

Right, I was kidding. Screw you people who think I was Goddamn serious.

Now, as if it wasn't ridiculous enough to not have a Twitter, I've decided to take things a step further by not having a Facebook account too. Huh! Take that!

Honestly, isn't it really cool to not have a Facebook account when almost everyone else has one? Its like being the only virgin in a nympho's colony. No, slash that, wrong example.

I don't have anything against Facebook and I'm perfectly fine with people who use it.

But heck, I'll tell you why I'm not using it.

You see, Facebook can be really addicting. I mean, people actually lost their jobs because of Facebook. And lets not get started with those who got illegally laid after falling for some faggoty-looking hunks on Facebook.

The addiction part is based on a true story. Devil, I was once addicted to Myspace. And I swear in the name of KennySia's coconut that I will never indulge in online networking portals again.

You see, I use to have a Myspace account - still having it - and heavily active in it when I was in Form 2. No, active is not the vernacular term. Amendments, I was heavily ADDICTED to it.

And you know how things can get pretty screwed up when you are addicted to some shit that will waste every single drip of essence in you. I screwed up my sleep. Screwed up my heath. Screwed up my exams. Screwed up my studies. Screwed up my life.

Yeah. Especially when you have thousands of so-called friends on Myspace. Trust me, you'll have a handful of nonsense to attend to everytime you log in.

I used to blog on Myspace. And it was my virgin blogsite. And I make it a point to update at least 2 post every single day of my form 2 life. And bloody hell, its not easy to come up with some really fruitful updates everyday OK? Can you imagine I actually plot up blog posts when an exam is going on? Literally, I was actually thinking about what to update in my shitty blog instead of what to write on that exam sheet.

Sometimes you don't know what on Earth you are doing unless someone slapped you hard in your face and stopped you. Yeah, my tarnished result slip sure slapped me really friggin hard!

Well, since then, I'm always striving to abstain from logging on to Myspace regularly. Boy, was I good at abstinence! Pun intended.

It did pay off, after countless hard slap on the balls everytime I have the urge to spend more than half an hour on Myspace. Yeah, I set up a curfew. Only 3 times a week and not more than half an hour per log-in. The end result was an *ahem* 7A's *ahem* in my PMR. You know, I don't usually speak highly of myself.

To think of it, Online Networking Portals' Addiction (ONPA) is something like alcohol addiction. You'll always fork out excuses for yourself in order to succumb to that beer. Same concept, you'll make up crocks of bull just to make you feel better when you spend half of your day on Myspace/Facebook.

And the ONPA thingy, there's no such thing. I came up with that shit. Thought it sounded splendid.

I still have a Myspace account now, but I don't give a shit about whatever that happened in that superficial world. I'm only using it for one purpose. And never more than 15 minutes every session.

Heh. Ya, it feels nice to be in a mob. That will make me a little less nerdy. *slap balls!*

See what I'm saying, you'll tend to like it even though its something artificial and sinfully bootless.

So to be on the safe side, I would rather NOT have a Facebook account. Albeit the fact that I acknowledge how merriment and whoopie the applications in Facebook can be. Better safe than sorry. Know what I mean.

So to make things look nicer, this is the only kind of Facebook I know.

Well, guess I'll just stick to blogging. At least I don't have to worry about not watering my stupid plant or feeding my stupid restaurant workers.

Tweet

Twitter

Back. Back from the solemness and despair. Happy, sad, peeved, screwed-up. Life's a bitch and it will always be. Just move along and everything will be perfectly alright. At least, that's what I think.

So, today will be about micro-blogging and why I don't micro-blog (is that what you people call it?).

Meimeiyen had been persuading me to sign up for Twitter. And did I reject her straight in her fetching face. Sorry girl, don't feel so disturbed about my snubbing. I'm not usually this obnoxious. Heh.

I know, I'm like one of the few weirdos around here who doesn't own a Twitter account. So I would like to make several justification for being Twitter-less.

For some peculiar reason, I can't seem to get where micro-blogging is suppose to head. I mean, I know its exactly like blogging, just that with much fewer words. For me, its an impossible task to shove every single thing I want to say in less than 100 words.

I'm an ass when it comes to writing. I die-die must compose a grandmother story essay when it comes to writing, or in exact terms, blogging. I find it really cumbersome to MICRO down my contents. Its like asking me to shit bits by bits instead of letting everything out at once.

And I'm not the kind of person who will get all excited when I see something that pricks my funny bone. You know, instead of blasting it out immediately on Twitter with your laptop/handphones/Blackberry, I would rather keep it running in my complicated brain and blend in whatever essence of humour I can before letting it all go on my blog.

Its like men, the older and longer they "keep it", the more screwed-up it will be. Essentially, I would prefer to stew something I witnessed in my head as long as possible before poking fun at it. I mean, the more I can rub on, the more screwed-up it will be. The more screwed-up it is, the more stupid I will look.

And if I start using Twitter, I have to start all over again by learning the ethics, hidden rules and taboos. Which I hopelessly loathe. I mean, what the devil is a hashtag? To me its a a tag that says "eat the crap outta me!". And usually worn by hash-browns.

And the follower thingy, its one big inconvenience for me. You see, I will trust almost anything I see on the Internet. If there was a site that says Adam Lambert french-kissed Obama, I will bloody well believe it.

Assuming I do Twitter, I will definitely keep up with whatever my followers are up to. In other words, I'll rely heavily on Twitter to know what's going on. Imagine if some scandalous tabloids were spread around, I will, in my greatest intelligence, believe it.

Imagine what a big boo-boo I'm gonna make.

Well, maybe I should jolly well stick with blogging. Maybe its because I come from the old school of blogging where long-winded shit looks cooler.

Tweet

Eulogy

Your eyes dazzled me the very first time we encountered. You were then a scrawny little angel, looking at me with that compassionate pair of beautiful eyes. I miss it.

Your sweet purr seduces me at every available opportunity. A little cajoling and inveigling is all you need to make me go heads over heels. I miss it.

Your fair and brightly-lit complexion makes you all so distinguished. Nobody in this vicinity can be any fairish than you do. I miss it.

On this very solemn day, you are gone. Gone with the wind, in blood and anguish. Gone forever. And never coming back again.

I apologise for not looking over your back as how I should be. I apologise for being a such lousy man who is never there to protect you. I apologise, but for the love of God, is it of any use now?

I shouldn't have delayed and ran out so slowly. I shouldn't have reacted so reluctantly when I sensed something was awry. I shouldn't, and in damnation of myself, is it of any use now?

Those bunch of morally repugnant cold-blooded creatures - your murderers will be sanctioned in the avenge of your name. They will pay for all your innocent blood that flowed. They will cry in excruciation when they are called for Judgement. For I believe justice. For I have trust in Him.

Girl, we spent 3 happy years together. You came as an unfed malnourished little cat. Slowly you bloomed. Slowly you grew. With all the selfless alimentation and countless packets of cat-food, you have grown to become a robust true cat.

Girl, you had children of your own. You gave birth to beautiful babies and took great care of every single pack of them. At your utmost altruistic love for the little kittens, they too, had grown into true cats.

Girl, I'm really sorry I did not ran out quickly to stop the dogs from chasing after you. I wasn't swift enough to keep them away from you. I didn't make it to stop them from pouncing on you. I did not stop them - from brutally killing you.

My heart was torn into bits and pieces when I witness you death. When the dogs literally tore you apart, they were figuratively tearing me apart too.

I'm sorry Girl. This is only the casket I can afford to glorify your death.

I'm sorry Girl. This is the only place I can lay you to rest.

I'm sorry Girl. These are the culprits liable for your gruesome death and may God deal with them respectively.

Girl. Rest in peace. You will be missed forever. This is really harsh. Really really harsh.

Love, Vin Tsen, your caring-yet-careless owner.

Disclaimer: The author is currently undergoing a depressed period and might not update for the time being.

Trackbacks, some previous posts about Girl. Here and here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Updates: Girl is already 2 months pregnant. And the thoughts of unborn kittens send traumatic signals down my spine.

Tweet

Header

OK, when I told people blog headers don't mean a thing, I lied. Heck, its not like I lied my way to earn the presidency of our country. Oh wait, we don't have a president. But we have a PM. Heck, whatever.

Right, so to say, blog headers do HAVE some significance on a blog. It either makes you look like the next Da Vinci or it can also make you look like a complete retard. I prefer to be the latter.

Out of the blues, I, the proud owner of Vincent's Philosophy would like to place a new header in my blog after nearly 2 years in the industry. AND, I would like you to help me pick! Oh my God, I feel like a diva.

Honestly, I just needed to know how screwed up I am in making headers some humble opinions. Especially from the experts in this part of the ball game.

I did not create any of the below images with some high-flying, canggih-fied imaging softwares i.e. Photoshop. Its an outcome of this image-processing website, specially introduced by Kelyn. And I did a little noobhead editing with the ever popular Paint. Heck, it works for me. Laugh all you want.

So, do drop some valuable thoughts of yours!

1. 
   
2. 
   

3. 
   

4. 
   

5. 
   

Right, I know what a big-fat narcissist I am but I believe thats beside the point today. Just for today. Do assist me with your utmost gracious artistic pair of eyes. And that includes you who had just dropped by here instead of some porno sites that you were initially searching for.

Tweet

Chamber

As usual, I was flipping through the pages of Lawyerment and feeding myself with some hopelessly useful legal information. And I decided to get a little ambitious by typing the keyword 'chambering' on the search-box.

Basically, chambering is what law graduates have to do once they've completed their bachelor's degree and obtain their 'license to practice law' - technical terms would either be the BPTC or CLP.

During the course of chambering, a chamberer would have to work as a slave lawyer's assistant and purportedly "watch and learn". Upon completion of the slavery chambering, which is about 9 months, one MAY be called to the bar and sworn in as a lawyer.

Right, back to my story. I was browsing through the forum on Lawyerment regarding my ambiguity on chambering. Well, I have to clarify that matter, since I'll be one of it in a few years time.

And jolly well guess what I found.

In case you can't read what was written, this is what it is,

" I am a graduated law student in UKM. Now I would like to start my chambering in a legal firm. I would like to ask how do I start my chambering. I has been told that I must first forward my petition to the Bar Council and there a numerous step that must be taken after that. I would be helpful if you could give me a guideline in this matter. I has read the Bar Council homepage for pupilege, but they never mention the procedure or the task that must be taken in order to chamber.

I will be regretfull if my question be answer as soon soon possible.

Your Truly.

Mohd. Something Something. "

I can't believe what I see. This is coming out from a presumably law graduate. Who is in the process of becoming a lawyer.

This was a thread posted in 2001, which was 9 years ago. Imagine how many clients have he misled and misguided. But first, I wonder if he did make it to the bar after all.

But nevertheless, he can still end up as a lecturer in some local university. No big deal if he can't become a lawyer.

And something more hilarious got me.

"Don know how to spelling and write like a lawyer. Better sell beckside"

It was one of the reply. Very smartly written. So true. This kind of lawyers, better go sell BECKSIDE la!

With lawyers like this, it is either them who should sell their backsides or it will be US who are going to sell our backside.

This ridiculous piece of joke was obtained from here.

Tweet

Impossible

Well, for one, these will never happen to my blog. Not in a million years.

1. KennySia dropping by and leave a comment.
   
   


Imagine he actually comes to Vincent's Philosophy and drop comments like, "Hey dropped by! Checked out your blog today. Visit back. Cheers!


2. XiaXue and Dawn Yang having a catfight here. In my very own chatbox.
   
   


Let's see. Wonder how is it like to have these 2 sexy babe bloggers having a crabby verbal exchange here. And it might sound something like this.

XiaXue: Bitch. Your pair of *insert your own words* is a product of plastic surgery.
Dawn Yang: Teehee. Its so not true.
XiaXue: Bitch.
Dawn Yang: Like whatever.


3. PM Najib announcing a new economic plan on Vincent's Philosophy.
   
   


"On this very auspicious day, I the Prime Minister of Malaysia, would like to announce the Newer Economic Model on Vincent's Philosophy because the previous plan was a total screw-up still in room for improvement."


4. RPK making a request to be a contributor of my blog just so he could publish his series of political commentary here.
   
   


I guess Vincent's Philosophy will be closely scrutinized by the government and internal affairs ministry. 24/7. Hmm, to think of it, pretty good traffics for me.


5. Nike and Adidas fighting over advertorial rights on Vincent's Philosophy.
   
   


Both companies having an intense contention just to get my signature and advertise on my blog. Envisage 2 biggest sporting establishment trying to butter me up so they can exploit my blog in their mission to generate more revenue.

So far, that's all I can dream and think of. Any suggestions will be gladly appreciated.

Tweet