Vincent's Philosophy

Shit We Do During CNY

2012-01-31T00:40:00.004+08:00

Every Chinese New Year, millions of dollars are spent by the Chinese community, according to the Spending of Hua-ren Altogether Institution (SOHAI). A private research bureau that has yet to receive recognition from our national statistic’s department.

With the recent economical slump that has hit our nation all so badly; I find this figure we spent during this festive season to be a little outrageous. I mean, there are so many unnecessary things that can be eliminated from our CNY expenditure list. Overspend. But here’s the thing, we are proud to overspend. We want to overspend. We NEED to overspend. Or else when our uncles and aunties come over, they will say that our father never got his bonus this year coz he was a lazy bum. Face water will drop. Then our father will be depressed, humiliated and angered. Then we won’t get our angpows. Cannot lah liddat!

But here’s the thing, we spend on things that we don’t really need and don’t spend on things that we really need. Weird? No, it’s all about being Chinese. It’s in our blood, or our dragon blood, as some calls it. So in fact Dragon Ball would actually mean…well, you know where this is going.

But of course, our pee-pee ain’t that tiny as how those cartoons portrayed it.

I’m not against celebrating the Lunar New Year or whatnot, but to be honest, the above is just one of the few shits we do during CNY. Here’s a list of the rest:

1. Put up Chinese New Year decorative one week before the celebration. Take it down one week after the 15 days celebration. Keep said decorative in the store-room so that you can use it again for 8 more years. 10, if you use high-quality stuffs.

2. Put up Chinese New Year decorative one week before the celebration. Leave it there for the next 8 years. 10, if you use high-quality stuffs.

3. Drive all the way to Tesco which is like 12 kilometres further than your regular Jusco because their carton of Tiger beer is cheaper by RM3.99. Never mind that you have to spend more on petrol, beer more important. Where can celebrate CNY without alcohol? Lose face lah!

4. Take out all the fancy cups and saucer from the kitchen cabinet and spend 45 minutes cleaning them out thoroughly. After finish cleaning the cups and saucer, shove them back into the kitchen cabinet so that you can do that again next year.

5. Finish one box of mandarin oranges before the first day of Chinese New Year. Then complain say got sore throat. Then tweet about it. Then seek attention. Just like me.

6. Attend the reunion dinner as late as possible. The later you arrive, the more ‘ong’ you gonna get in your new year. True story.

7. Once we receive our angpows, make up some lame stomach-ache excuse and run to the nearest toilet so that we can open our red packets to see how much we got. If we like what we see, we’ll come out smiling. If not, we’ll go out of the toilet without flushing our poo-poo.

8. Gambling, that will result in 2 scenarios. One, blow up the entire year’s savings. Two, don’t have to save money anymore for the entire year.

9. After finish tossing the yee-sang, only eat the tiny crispy thingy and neglect the other contents.

10. Only time you’ll get to see your drunken uncle trying to tell your drunken aunty how beautiful she is. And then they start fighting.

11. Blow a few hundred bucks on fireworks and fire-crackers. Light them all over the place. Then spend the whole of next morning cleaning up the mess from the fireworks and fire-crackers.

12. After 15 days of celebration, update your Facebook status or tweet about how the Chinese New Year went by so quickly and that you miss it already.

But meh, what’s CNY without all these shit? These are the little things that make up the whole festival. Gong Xi Fa Chai! Huat ah!

Challenge: Live Forever

2012-01-23T00:00:00.001+08:00

Challenge: To live on this planet forever.

Progress: So far so good. Today will be the first day of my 20th year carrying out this challenge. Wish me luck.

Pranking, The Law Student Way

2012-01-20T23:16:00.001+08:00

As some of you might know, I am reading law in this little college called BAC.

And we law undergraduates at BAC, take pranks very seriously.

Nuffnang Volkswagen Test Drive – Passat CC

2012-01-17T00:33:00.004+08:00

"They put the word 'swag' in Volkswagen because they totally deserved it." – Anonymous (Well, this was my quote actually, but I'm modest enough to not put my name up)

Reluctantly speaking, I do consider myself a small-time automotive enthusiast. So when Volkswagen came knocking on my door asking me to ride it, I said the most powerful word in the entire English vocabulary arsenal – yes.

Once in a while, I do pay a visit to the local newsstand to grab a copy of Top Gear. Every now and then, I’ll spend some time on automotive related websites, crunching on the latest news and happenings relating to the four-wheeled beauties. I don’t see myself as a hardcore fanatic when it comes to cars, but I do have a fair working knowledge about them. Like how superchargers and turbochargers and phone-chargers work, yeah, no big deal.

Now, Volkswagen. It all started some few days ago when Nuffnang sent me an e-mail inviting me for a test drive session. Well, if you’ve never test driven a car which you are certain that it is fairly impossible for you to purchase it, here’s what it felt like – going on a dinner date with a super-hot girl that your father’s disgustingly rich boss had set up for you. The super-hot girl, who attended that date with you only because she had to give face to your father’s disgustingly rich boss, will pretend to have a good time with you and when dessert had been devoured, said super-hot girl will disappear from your very sight within split seconds and never to be seen again. Gosh, I have a very terrible childhood I tell you.

But let’s put this whole ‘girl thingy’ aside shall we? Today we’ll talk about wheels, torque and a fine touch of German automotive engineering.

So the test drive session was at Desa Park City (no, it’s not at Desa Water Park lah, we’re testing cars, not motor-boats, dummy) and by jolly was it fine day to show some Volkswagen car who’s boss.

I had a go at the Passat CC. No, the CC is not the abbreviation for cyber-café. And no, it is not a car for sissies. Gee, you people and your ridiculous stereotypes.

Equipped with a 2.0-litre engine, this beauty can be crowned the mother of luxury-lined cars. Its body design portrays a sharp display of exclusiveness and one can expect a stare of respect towards an upper-classed executive from a wretched bystander when you cruise pass them in your Passat CC.

This car may look heavy (well, it is in fact one of the heavier Volkswagen models) and may appear to be a slow-coach ride. Well, did I not mention that the Passat CC is turbocharged and it boasts a maximum torque of 280Nm at 1,700-5,000 rpm? Can’t digest this car jargons? Okay, I’ll illustrate my experience when I was behind the wheels.

After cruising in a somewhat slumber pace, I’ve decided to overtake a Mercedes-Benz. So I engaged the car in sports-mode (which is like Dragon Ball dude going into the whole Super Saiyan mode where he becomes undefeatable) and gently applied some force on the accelerator. Note the word, gently. Immediately, I felt an invisible push on my whole upper-body and I was taken further back into my seat. It was physics at its best. My Passat CC accelerates fiercely whilst making loud roars at the Mercedes-Benz, as if to say, “Get out of my way, bitch.”

It only took me 4 seconds before the Mercedes-Benz was in my rear-view mirror. And another 3 seconds before it disappears behind the dust and debris left over by the powerful sprint of the Passat CC that was under my very control. It wasn’t long before the Volkswagen sales rep beside me said, “See, it only took 7.7 seconds to reach 100 km/h from 0.” A tiny smile of satisfaction escaped from my lips.

Remember those good old days where we have to put our car into ‘free-gear’ and pull our handbrakes up so that our car will remain stationary instead of sliding backwards and risks ramming your car’s backside? The Passat CC brought that technology to a whole new level. It has this cute little ‘P’ button by the side of your car where you just have to give it a push and your car’s ‘handbrakes’ are engaged. Apparently, it uses some really canggih electromagnetic technology that even I don’t want to explain to you. Bleuk.

As for car keys? Boo your old-school technology. The Passat CC is pretty much like a woman. To activate this baby, you need to insert this batang.

Into this lubang.

Liddat only the fella can start roaring and running. But this is high-tech I tell you. Even I don’t want to explain to myself how it works.

As herculean as this hot beauty may sound, there are, however, some flaws that Volkswagen’s R&D department can take into serious consideration should they intend to come up with a newer version of the Passat CC.

The dashboard did not really express the ‘exclusive’ and ‘up-market’ kind of feeling. It looks somewhat, plain. A little too simple for a car of its class. The tachometer and speedometer did not justify the RM270000 that I've paid for this car (metaphorically speaking). Besides that, the steering wheel wasn’t something appealing or a feature you can shout about. When driving, I felt like I was gripping on to a Proton Saga’s. Perhaps a little wooden finishing won’t hurt, will it?

But well, I’m not one who has too much to complain about. Moreover, I’m no Jeremy Clarkson. I’m just that blogger boy who hopes that one day his daddy will buy him a Passat CC.

I mean, look at that innocent face, who wouldn’t let him take home that Passat CC, right?

There’s A Hair In My Flower!

2012-01-13T23:10:00.000+08:00

That is correct, I am wearing a flower on my head.

Because wearing a cap is too mainstream.

The Facebook Virgin

2012-01-10T21:19:00.003+08:00

There, I've finally created a Facebook page. That means I'm no longer a virgin to Facebook.

Yeah, don't you like it when someone is not a virgin anymore? 'Like', get it? What? Cannot crack lame joke is it now?

My Less Ambitious New Year Resolutions

2012-01-07T01:52:00.002+08:00

It’s such a cliché to do New Year resolutions. Most of it involves big goals that seem somewhat realistic in the beginning but turns out to be more and more impossible to achieve as time goes by. Pretty much like eliminating the growth of Beilibers or Biebelers or whatever these Bieber fanatics call themselves.

People always make really fancy and extravagant resolutions in the light of a new year. And when they couldn’t achieve those resolutions, they’ll start kicking their own groin for making such stupid resolutions.

Like the old Malay saying goes, no matter how high the squirrel could jump, it’s gonna get shot down someday. And then made into stew or satay, poor squirrel. Oh wait, I don’t think that meant ‘the higher you aim, the more painful you fall’. But you get my point.

Hence, to avoid such disappointments and pain in the testicles, I’ve decided to come up with some less ambitious New Year resolutions.

1. I’m gonna be nicer towards people around me. Instead of yelling, cursing and swearing in their faces, I’ll only yell and curse, no swearing. I mean, nobody likes using the F-word right? It’s too mainstream.
2. It’s about time I started on more matured reading materials. So bye-bye Doraemon and hello Detective Conan.
3. Gonna start playing football more often. If possible, every other day. All I have to do now is to choose between FIFA 12 and Pro Evolution Soccer. Ahh, screw it, FIFA 12 it is. Now, where is that Playstation of mine…
4. Instead of getting six-packs on my abs, I’m gonna get one-and-a-half packs on my belly region by the end of this year. Hey, that half makes a lot of difference, okay?
5. I’ll live healthier this year. Instead of two Big Macs every week, I’m just gonna have one Big Mac. And perhaps a larger serving of fries to compensate.
6. No more driving out to mamak stalls for late night snack. It’s an unsound waste of petrol and pollution to the environment. Will call Pizza Hut’s home delivery instead.
7. Study on a more consistent basis. Instead of studying only when the internet is down, I’ll also study when it’s raining and Astro’s service are interrupted.
8. Cut down on alcohol. Oh wait, can’t do this.

Problem solved. I’m gonna end this year knowing that I’ll achieve each and everyone of my resolutions. I’m the man lah.

A New Year Community Message

2012-01-03T22:22:00.002+08:00

In this new year, be a part of a great cause.

And help end the violence against vegetables.

Wrapping Up 2011

2012-01-01T02:25:00.001+08:00

You know, this is my first post for 2012. And it’s customary for a lot of bloggers to list down whatever they’ve done through out the whole of last year. So yeah, here I am. Because I’m so mainstream.

The year took off with me being locked-up behind bars during my birthday. Did I drop the soap when I was in the slammers, you were asking? No I did not, asshole.

And then I decided to become an advice columnist. It didn’t pan out well and I don’t see why. I mean, I can really give good advice. Here, try me. Q: “My husband’s cheating on me, what should I do?” A: “Slip in some laxative and Viagra in his coffee. It is gonna be hilarious seeing him shat with a hard-on.”

See, am I good at this advice thingy or what?

Then I was given the honour (more like I took it upon myself shamelessly without invitation) to touch the Champions League trophy. It was orgasmic I tell you, caressing something that has been touched by so many legendary icons. Yeah, that was one slutty trophy all right.

The highlight of my year came when I was named Nuffnang’s Featured Blogger of the Month. It was like winning a Grammy’s or from the Asian perspective, a Golden Horse. Or was it a Golden Rooster, not too sure with my facts. But either way, it was AWESOME.

I then got my ridiculously long fringe clipped off. Kept it for quite a while, but hey, all good things must come to an end. Hey, the fringe was cool okay.

Moolah? Oh yeah, got a big fat cheque courtesy of Nuffnang. Yeah, it was so fat that it made Oprah looked like Beyonce. Okay, maybe not Beyonce, but let’s not get all fussy with names aite?

Then I kinda saw a pair of boobs at a party, no biggies.

Had my final A-level examinations somewhere in the middle of the year which I passed proudly with moderately floating colours. Yeah, I’m not a person who hungers perfection and excellence. You know, modesty?

And then there was this exclusive photo of me that was taken 15 years ago. Back then, I wasn’t so tall. But I was still adorable. True story.

Another awesome moment that I will not forget for the rest of my life was the meeting and touching (I sure love this, don’t I?) of footballers from my childhood club, Chelsea. Yeah, thanks to Nuffnang, I had the opportunity to meet almost each and everyone one from the club that I’ve grown up with. It was like orgasm (sorry, this is the only ‘good’ feeling I could think of), only 100 times awesomer.

I went on to become a property agent. Well, I still am. So call me if you want a roof over your head, I’ll be more than delighted to assist you.

Oh, on another note, a ‘distant relative’ of mine left RM31 million in assets and cash in my name. But being the humble down-to-earth me, I politely refused this unjust enrichment. I mean, me with RM31 million? Nah.

Wrote a story about my journey with Nuffnang, had me realising what a long way I’ve came through with Nuffnang. Without Nuffnang, I don’t think my blogging life would have been as colourful as it is today.

To think of it, 2012 will be my fourth blogging year (well, 3 and a half, to be precise, but let’s not get all mathematical, okay?). In all four years, I’ve met a lot of new and awesome people, attended events of all sorts, experience things that I would otherwise not have experienced if I wasn’t into blogging. Basically, blogging changed my life lah. Had to say it no matter how cliché it sounds.

To think of it, my 2011 wasn’t a bad one after all. Things were a little bumpy now and then, but hey, it’s time to put those things in the rearview mirror and focus on the windscreen right now. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna ram into some trees. Or street-lights. Or even donkeys. And then get yourself into a hospital. Maybe a coma. A coma, is that what you really want?

Here’s to a better 2012. Happy New Year everyone!

Slide To Unlock

2011-12-27T20:26:00.002+08:00

Just so you iPhone users know,

Apple wasn’t that innovative after all.

A Theory About Santa

2011-12-24T22:48:00.001+08:00

I’ve got this little theory about our dear friend Santa Claus. Which involves another mythical icon who promises the bearing of gift and wealth, Choy San Yeh, the God of Prosperity.

That both of them are…

I’m pretty sure I’m right. In the mean time, Merry Christmas dear readers who are currently reading my blog instead of being at an awesome party during this holiday season. Hashtag foreveralone hahaha! Oh wait, that makes me a bigger foreveralone guy since I was the one who wrote this post. Dammit.

UFO Desserts and Drinks

2011-12-21T01:40:00.000+08:00

No, this is not some stopover station for Martians to have a bowl of ice-kacang or taufu-fah before they proceed with their journey of invading other planets and scaring little kids. It’s a humble little dessert parlour located in SS2, Petaling Jaya.

Some time ago, I was ~~abducted~~ okay fine, invited by Xing and Simon to a little party where we were supposed to gossip like a bunch of Twilight-obsessed teenage girls whilst celebrating Xing’s success in completing her first exam paper without causing any permanent damage to her mental wellbeing. Little did I know that almost 20 other bloggers will be present at this so-called party-cum-food review. Syiok sendiri saja.

Anyhoos, this place, UFO desserts and drinks was not your ordinary dessert retailer. Well of course, there’s chairs and tables, bowls and spoons and things like that but yet, it’s not ordinary.

How not ordinary it is? I’ll show you lah.

Have you ever seen something like this or not when you patronise a dessert shop? Ahhhh see, not ordinary. (Just go with me lah please and say that you’ve never seen something like this in your entire years of living and that you are so amazed with this green little doughnut-like thingy even though you might have somehow seen it somewhere at some point of time)

You see, this is actually a device that will warn you of alien intrusion. Yes, the device detects the number of unidentified foreign creatures that is within your proximity (see, mine showed 3, which means 3 aliens are frightfully close to me at that time). Hence, you’ll have sufficient time to enter into a defensive stance, protecting yourself from the strings of attacks that will take place. According to research, the best and most effective way to deflect said strings of attacks would be to look for and cling on to any computer/laptop/smartphone/tablet near you and immediately type in www.vincephilosophy.com on your internet browser.

Heh. Cheap publicity stunt, I know. This is where all of you are legally obliged to give me the finger.

Okay, I was totally not serious about the green doughnut-like thingy. But it’d be really awesome if we had something like that. Admit it, you like my idea too.

Truth be told, every customer will be given one of this devices upon ordering. It’s actually a buzzer that will vibrate vigorously when your orders are ready. Well, it can be reluctantly accepted that it’s a vibrator, but judging from the shape, size and intensity of vibration, I don’t think it’ll make itself popular among women. For the male users on the other hand…

Ahh, the art of derailing from the topic. Dessert, that’s what we should be talking about.

Let’s start of with snacks, shall we? There’s a variety of deep-fried ones for you to choose from. Sesame-balls, deep-fried chicken fillet, fries (and mind you, there’s like a whole list of different types of fries to choose from) and our all-time favourite, calamari rings. Yeah, we had so many plates of calamari rings that the owner had to politely tell us they’ve ran out of it and that we would have to wait for ‘a while’. They had to send some men out to fish for fresh squid.

Kidding, they needed some time to defrost the frozen ones.

Putting snacks aside, the house’s specialty would be in the form of bubble-tea and shaved-ice. Just selecting the right cup of tea or right bowl of shaved ice will seem like a challenging task. Even deciphering the formula to calculate gravity will appear to be an easier project. They have a really wide selection of bubble-tea and shaved ice!

Can’t seem to suppress that inner voice of yours that is painfully begging for some of these mouth-watering snacks and desserts? Head on over to UFO Desserts and Drinks now at No.86, Jalan SS2/60, SS2, 47300 Petaling Jaya, Malaysia (GPS : N03 07.119' E101 37.437'). And if that’s not enough to convince you, here’s something that will.

Come on lah, I’ve practiced that Puss-in-Boots innocent eyes for decades already. How can you not be convinced?

Thank You Churp Churp!

2011-12-12T23:47:00.001+08:00

Thanks to Churp Churp and Tiger Beer, I’ve won 2 crates of Tiger Beer. Which means I now have 48 bottles of heavenly golden fluid that makes life a lot meaningful. This is the birth of my very first new year’s resolution for 2012.

And I believe I’ll achieve this pretty soon. A big thank you to Churp Churp once more!

THIS IS UMNOOOOOOO!

2011-12-02T00:09:00.001+08:00

If you’ve been spending some time enriching yourself with some news instead of looking at photos of naked girls all the time, you’ll realise that the UMNO General Assembly had been on for the past 2 days. One thing that really got my attention was the speeches by the various party leaders. Well, it’s not much of a speech because the speakers spend half the time yelling while hoisting his or her arm in the air. Needless to state, it was as if the microphones weren’t functioning and nobody in the whole fathermucking hall knows how to fix it.

Dear leaders of every political organisations in Malaysia during speech-giving, just in case you didn’t know, with the blessings of technology, we can now speak into a cylindrical thingy that looks pretty much like a dildo (another technological wonder that have shaken the world, one woman at a time) and it will amplify our voices so the gathering of audience can hear us obstreperously and distinctly. Hence, there is no need for us to raise our voice into said cylindrical thingy that looks pretty much like a dildo.

Well, if you couldn’t find any videos on the net of them presenting their speeches in a technologically retarded manner, I’ll save your time and provide a summary of how it actually felt through out the speech.

On the side note, it’s a fairly suitable time right now to venture into the whole sore-throat lozenges industry. Confirm got business.

How I Spoil The Word ‘Bro’

2011-11-28T16:55:00.001+08:00

To be honest, I’ve been using the title ‘bro’ a little too liberally. And yup, even the most inappropriate situation will not deter my usage of the sacred title that one man bestows onto another respectable man.

Let me present you a little history about this sanctified form of address – bro. Some 600 years ago, a king by the name Parameswara landed on the soils of Malacca. As he was resting, the young ruler witnessed his hunting dog receiving a roundhouse kick from a deer. And the following took place.

Parameswara : Woah bro, you saw that bro? That was awesome shiz bro.

His follower: Yeah bro, fo shizzle my nizzle, we should totally start our kingdom here.

Parameswara : You’re totally right bro. We should like, build a castle here or something.

His follower : Iknoright. And just for fun, we should totally do all kind of wacky shiz like doing business and attacking other countries whatnot so that the kids in the future gotz to study about us in they schools, bro.

Parameswara : Man, you’re a freaking genius bro! And guess what, we should totally call each other bro as a form of respect, bro.

His follower : Hell yeah you da bomb bro! Knock your fist against mine bro! (This was coincidentally how the renowned ‘fist-bumping’ came into practice)

Now – some 600 years later – this title of respect is being thrown around like nobody’s business. The sanctity of the designation ‘bro’ is being tarnished and violated by the likes of youngsters who do not appreciate the historical significance of said title. Sadly, I am one of the many ignorant young chaps.

Here are some of the situations where I shouldn’t have called the other party ‘bro’ but I did it anyway because I think it’s cool and hip but I really have no idea if that is the case and whether it made be looked legendary or a total douche or maybe both but what the heck whatever was done is history so there’s no turning back. Period.

Give your right hand a high-five with your left hand if you totally understood me.

The following scenarios indeed took place and had all been translated for your reading convenience. You’re welcome, bro.

In the bus

What I should have said: Hi Mr. Bus Driver, may I know what is the fare from point A to point B?
What I really said : Bro, how much ah?

What the driver should have said: Hi Mr. Passenger, it’s RM1 from point A to point B.
What the driver really said : *lifts his index finger up, either to indicate that the fare is RM1 or just to show me a sign that I’ll be going straight to heaven when I pass away.*

In a high-class restaurant

What I should have said: Hi Mr. Waiter, what is the house’s recommendation? Sirloin or tenderloin?
What I really said : Bro, which one nicer ah? This one or that one? *pokes the menu furiously*

What the waiter should have said: Ah bro, if I were you lah har, I’ll order this one, bro. *pokes the menu furiously with the tip of his pen*
What the waiter really said : Sir, our chef’s specialty would be the sirloin fillifallafua (some fancy French word that I’ve never heard of and would never use it anyway). I would recommend it to be served medium-rare alongside our house-pour for tonight, a 1995 shellalaladiiivua (another French word that I have no intention of knowing, remembering and appreciating. For now.)

Bumping into a college-mate whom I’ve known for over a year

What I should have said: Dear College-mate, to be honest, I still can’t remember your name even though I’ve been in the same college with you for a year now and we practically bump into each other every other day. May I know your name with all sincerity and I promise I’ll remember it through out the rest of my life.
What I really said : Eh bro! Whazzup! Got class ah? Oh, okay lah, see you around, bro! *sentence to be repeated every single time I run into him*

What the college-mate should have said: Hi fellow College-mate, I’m actually quite uncomfortable with your addressing me as ‘bro’ because we hardly know each other except for the fact that we always greet each other and then walk our separate ways. How about we start our friendship all over again by introducing myself to you and we can have a substantial and significant conversation hereinafter.
What the college-mate really said : Yo bro! Ya lah, class now lor haha. See you around wei bro! *sentence to be repeated every single time he runs into me*

When a police officer stopped me to ask me some questions

What I should have said: Good afternoon officer, what seems to be the problem and how may I help you in carrying your duties as an impartial and trustworthy Malaysian police officer?
What I really said : Whaddup, bro?

What the police officer should have said: Good afternoon loyal citizen of our nation, if it is not much trouble, this 2 Indonesian gentleman failed to produce any identification documents when requested. They claimed that you are their friend and you are holding the said documents. Is it true?
What the police-officer really said : Ah bro, this 2 fellas say you are holding their passport. Got ah? (May I reinforce the fact that said officer did addressed me as ‘bro’, I swear) What? You don’t know them? Okay, thanks a lot, bro.

Chatting with a female friend

What I should have said: Dear female friend, I may be incorrect with my facts, but are there any possibilities that you might have taken my mobile-phone by accident?
What I really said : Eh bro, you took my phone?

What my female friend should have said: Yeah bro, your mobile-phone is right inside my handbag. You handed it to me for safekeeping just now, remember bro?
What my female friend really said : Screw you lah! What bro bro bro? I’ve got boobs one okay. Call me bro some more then I throw you out of my car then you know hor. Nah, your phone lah, BRO.

And my fellow readers, that is why the title ‘bro’ should not be tossed around freely. The holiness and reputation as an address of respect between two deserving man should be preserved and upheld at all times.

Understand or not, bro?

A Bloggers’ Community Project

2011-11-19T17:44:00.001+08:00

I’ve never done this before, hence, this makes me a community project virgin. Teehee.

Alright, let’s get down to business by calling all bloggers out there. Wanna be a part of this very informal and small community project that the Punk Chopsticks will be carrying out once she had completed her ~~highly confidential time-travel experiment to the past in search for a purple dinosaur~~ SPM?

What kind of project is it you were asking? Good question. I don’t know.

Just kidding.

It’s actually a project to raise awareness of the rights of the LGBT community. For crying out loud, we’re already living in the 21st century where it’s not wrong for a guy to like another guy or for a guy to like a girl but at the same time like a guy. So guys, be a part of it, will ya?

To be a part of it, all you have to do is:

1. Take a photo of yourself (preferably 4x6 inches and 300pixel/inch) against a white background.
2. Hold on to a A4-sized paper/cardboard whilst taking your photograph.
3. Write a message on said A4 paper/cardboard (any message will do as long as it has something to do with who you are. Note that it should not contain any form of vulgarities, profanities and blasphemy.)
4. Send your photo (watermarking is fine) to punkchopsticksable@gmail.com.
5. And see your photo being published onto a large (HOPEFULLYYYYY) collage alongside other bloggers who shares the same ideology as you!

Yeap, before I finish, I would to quote Katy Perry in one of her famous hits:

”I kissed a girl and I liked it.” Teehee.

Why Do Guys Go To Strip Clubs

2011-11-10T00:15:00.002+08:00

Disclaimer: This post contains a good amount of discussion on vices that involves nudity. Hence, if you are not a person who is comfortable with the idea of guys in reality, do pay girls to take their clothes off, I suggest that you leave this "diabolical" and "perverted" site immediately and go watch bubbles pop in your bathtub.

This is written in response to Punk Chopsticks’ recent post about her dining experience in what seemed to be a restaurant full of ‘dreamy guys’. Note that the phrase ‘dreamy guys’ here refers to a group of dudes who spend their free-time staring blankly at the wall and, well, as suggested – dreams.

I’m so getting a roundhouse kick from that pair of chopsticks when I meet her, I tell you.

Anyhoos, in her article, she placed forward an analogy. And no, the term ‘analogy’ has nothing to do with the studies of anal whatsoever. Her hypothesis suggests that “Good food is a lot like good sex” and that guys going to strip clubs are “like going to a restaurant, ordering food, smelling it but not allowed to eat it”.

Seriously, smelling?

I dare not imagine further.

Well, I’ve came up with a few insights on why guys go to strip clubs. NOTE: This is in no way personal as I have never been into a strip club. A strip of clubs, on the other hand…never mind, those were the days.

Firstly, guys go to strip clubs because it is one place where they won’t have to experience the side of women that scares the wee wee outta them. In other words, guys who patronise strip clubs will avoid the torment of ‘nagging’, ‘complaining’, ‘elusive tantrums’, ‘bitching’, ‘sporadic questionings with intense traces of suspicion’ and ‘unreasonable and uncontrollable spending’.

Now, girls. The above terminologies were merely introduced for illustration purposes. The blogger is not suggesting that the mentioned traits are in every girl out there. There are some nice girls who don’t spend that much.

As for the second reason, guys enjoy strip clubs because they get to experience the side of women that they will never usually experience. Come on lah, let’s get real. Girls, will you, under normal circumstances, dance around your boyfriend/husband together with one of your BFFs in a highly suggestive manner wearing only pink fluffy furs over your boobies, a semi-transparent pair of thongs made of paper and literally nothing else?

Woah, this is getting a lil bit too graphical. I feel like I’m scriptwriting a porno.

But my point is, guys don’t usually get this sort of treatment from our mundane, sexless and un-colourful everyday life. Hence, it’s down to the club with the capital s for some booty shaking and lap-dancing. (Again, not implying that I’ve experienced any of the mentioned activities.)

Third, guys go to strip clubs solely for economic purposes. Yes, this theory is the most substantial and significant one among all. You see, strip clubs, like any other businesses, operates for the sake of gaining a profit and boosting the country’s national income. Therefore, when a guy becomes a customer of strip clubs, he is in fact contributing towards the nation’s economic growth. I have a very clear and concise exemplification to back up my theory.

Simply put, when a guy pays the strippers, it increases the strippers’ disposable income. And when them strippers have got the money, they’ll spend more on sexy lingerie. And what happen next? The lingerie industry obviously improves.

Now that the lingerie industry is booming, more and more people tend to invest in businesses involving lingerie. By now, most of the investors would have profited from the lingerie businesses that they’ve injected funds in. With that profit that they’ve reaped, they’ll pamper their selves by going to strip clubs and getting a lap dance from that stripper who had just bought a pair of new lingerie. And this cycle goes on. There you have it, economically lawyered.

So, guys, you are hereby justified to patronise strip clubs. It is your birth right to see that bitch take off her panty!

p.s. Nothing above should be taken seriously as the writer only intends to provide a few minutes of sheer entertainment at the time of writing and does not reflect his overall attitude and mentality in reality.

Keywords

2011-11-01T22:52:00.000+08:00

Was rather curious what people actually typed in search engines to get to my blog, so I logged in to my Nuffnang account and did a little spot-check.

For the love of God, there is nothing in my blog about big noses okay?

My Awesomest Nuffnang Story

2011-10-29T15:02:00.001+08:00

Now, please don on your pajamas/sexy lingerie/whatever that is you wear to sleep coz Imma tell you one of the most awesomest bed-time story you’ve ever heard.

Once upon a time when iPhones were still nonexistent and iPads were thought to be sanitary napkins, a blog with a peculiarly green layout was brought to this world. It was a mystical and magical moment that shook the blogging world. That blog was destined to make it big in the fames and fortunes of Blogllywood. That blog was called Vincent’s Philosophy.

The end. Go to sleep. Teehee.

Okay, seriously lah. This is a post dedicated to both Nuffnang and my blog. 3 years ago, I gave birth to this very blog (don’t ask me if I did it naturally or through Caesarean, please). Basically, I started a blog simply because everyone else had one and I am very the damned kiasu. It also played a role as a platform for me to write totally random stuffs that has no contribution towards mankind whatsoever.

Come to think of it, this blog still played a role as a platform for me to write totally random stuffs that has no contribution towards mankind. Meh.

After a good few months of running vincephilosophy.blogspot.com (as it was back then), I uploaded blog posts on a regular basis and at the same time, hoping that someone, somewhere will be reading it religiously. Sadly, 80% of my blog’s traffic came from, well, me. It was like talking to a wall, no no, even if I were to talk to a wall, there are still chances that my mum will come and call me crazy. So it was worse than talking to a wall.

Of course, being the adorable me, I was just too cute to continue blogging (I can’t find any coherence between cuteness and the will to blog but what the hell). I was about to stop writing completely, just after a couple of months. And that was when Nuffnang came ~~inside me~~ into my life.

It started off as a motivation to blog in return for money. Yeah, I used to get like, 25 cents a week from the various advertising campaigns. It was good money back then, making One Ringgit a month. RM1 is a lot of money during those days. Sounds familiar? I wonder where I got that from.

Then, the social networking started. I began using the once renowned blog aggregator Innit, a proud production of Nuffnang. Back then, it was the place to go to virtually if you want to generate heaps of traffics for your blog. The trick to bring in an exorbitant rush of traffic was to upload posts with titles that has keywords like sex, money or women. Coincidentally, the exact three things that men desire the most. Just saying.

People started to drop by blog. The readership rose, slowly but steadily. Comments started to flow in. Bloggers began to know me and I began to know them. My second life online officially took its form.

I had the money and I had the traffic, what more could a blogger ask for? Well, Nuffnang was ready to give more than that.

Nuffnang felt like they shouldn’t be a dull and typical dotcom where everything should and must only be conducted online. They began doing things offline. Screenings, events and even parties were hosted specially for Nuffnangers. Yeah, we bloggers have a life just so you non-bloggers-who-like-to-make-fun-of-us know. Bleuk. *sticks tongue out and slant eyes with my fingers*

I remember watching a couple of films before it was released nationwide. And guess what, I didn’t have to pay a single cent to watch ‘em. No, I'm not a cheapo, excuse me. But I wasn’t much of a movie junkie anyway, hence my lack of interest to participate in the screening giveaways. And no, I'm not being a stuck-up bitch okay. I may be a bitch, but I'm not stuck-up. Pfft.

But what always caught my attention were the events and parties! They should probably label me a slut since I was such a Nuffnang partywhore. But seriously, partying with Nuffnang is a whole different experience. And mind you, just because we’re bloggers doesn’t mean our parties involve a big gathering of people with their laptops, sitting in one big circle and typing on the keyboard furiously. Stereotype much?

I’ve been to parties that needed makeup and costumes.

I’ve also been to parties that don’t need makeup nor costumes.

Heck, I’ve even been to parties that need makeup and costumes but I didn’t put on any of them because I thought everyone else would do the same thing.

But it was times like that that makes you wanna grab a long cylindrical object with a big head-like thingy and sing “Partying! Partying! Yeah! FUN FUN FUN FUN LOOKING FORWARD TO THE WEEEEEEKENDS!”

What? Whaddya mean Rebecca Black was yesterday's news?

Through Nuffnang, I’ve met all sorts of bloggers.

Tall one.

Short one.

And even not human one.

But all in all, each and everyone were pretty awesome in their own ways. True story.

In April 2011, something bechanced and it was the highlight of my entire blogging career, yet. I was named ‘Featured Blogger of the Month’ by Nuffnang. And that’s a big deal okay? It’s like being Playmate of the Month where people tend to pay more attention to you. Well, of course, the only difference was that I didn’t have to strip naked and pose suggestively for the camera.

People started to recognise me on the streets. Heads were always turning. Fans started to stop me and ask for autographs. Taking photo with random fans almost became a daily endeavor. I was the Paris Hilton of KL.

Okay fine, none of that happened. I lied. Happy now? Laugh while I squat aside and cry whilst hugging on to my own knees. But honestly lah, being a featured blogger was a pretty amazing experience lah. For a 19 years old blogger who has no slightest sense of literary and couldn’t even cook up a good essay in high school, it’s considered damned awesome possum liao lah.

After doing a word-count, I can safely say that this post is almost reaching 1,000 words. I can feel that some of you are already shutting down your browser because this post was a major turnoff as it has nothing to do with sex, money or women. But just let me end this with a poem that doubles up as a rap tune. Make your own trashy techno music in your head if you fancy.

I started as a little unknown blogger,
Never had I thought of being discovered,
We were then introduced to each other,
And that was when I became a Nuffnanger.

Joining Nuffnang’s not just about making money,
It’s also an opportunity for us to meet some hunks and honeys,
Oh yeah we bloggers can be so goddamn sexy,
We’ll put down that lappie and get down to party!

Being a part of this network was simply the best,
The perks of being in Nuffnang is pretty much blessed,
Benefits we bloggers get are so doped like Eilliot Ness,
It’s no wonder we’re a community unlike the rest.

So was my Nuffnang story a truly amazing one?
Blogging with NN will be one hobby I’ll sustain in the long run,
And if you’ve been following me I would like to thank you a bunch,
Coz I’m that mothafunky blogger you peeps call Vince Gan!

So I’ll be seeing you guys at the Nuffnang Asia-Pacific Awards 2011 right? It's about time I suit up!

On the 16 December 2011, 500 bloggers from all around the Asia-Pacific region will gather in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for the Nuffnang Asia-Pacific Blog Awards 2011 in Putrajaya Marriott. The Awards aims to not only honour the region's awesome bloggers, but also bringing the blogger communities from across Asia-Pacific together under one roof. The Nuffnang Asia-Pacific Blog Awards is proudly brought to you by Volkswagen Malaysia and Putrajaya Marriott. And no, you won’t be taking home a Volkswagen Golf GTI no matter how dope that ride is; but you’ll have a truly amazing night.

How To Annoy People Somemore

2011-10-25T23:03:00.007+08:00

Remember my last post on how to annoy the living shit out of another person? And remember how I promised that there will be more? Remember?

Yeah, you don’t remember anything huh?

It’s cool. I forgive you for putting me in that state of oblivion. I will not hold any tinge of grudges against you. It is not significant that I hold you responsible for not having any memories regarding something that had happened. The past should be forgotten. And that is also why History should never be a subject in high-schools. Screw you capitalism.

I have no idea what the hell am I even trying to express. Gee, that’s my seventh glass of scotch already? Time flies when you’re getting drunk. On another note, I would like to quote one of my favourite white rappers, Asher Roth. In his words, ‘time isn’t wasted when you’re getting wasted’. Yeah, so don’t waste that drink.

Now, there is a whole other list of venues that I can think of whereby passing your annoyance on to someone at said venue would seem reasonable. Here goes.

Toilets

i. When using the urinal, look at the guy beside you intensely. When he asks you what the hell your problem is, point to your crotch and say, “How do you use this thing again?”
ii. Inside a cubicle, sing as loud as you can. When someone yells at you to shut your trap, tell ‘em that a recent scientific research had shown that music helps people to pee and poop more efficiently.
iii. Knock on the person in the next cubicle and ask, “Buddy, I need to go back to the future, where’s the button to power up this machine?”
iv. This works only where an automatic hand-dryer is in place. When someone puts their hands under the dryer, wave your finger around the dryer and mutter some spells from Harry Potter and let the dryer starts blowing. Look at the guy and demands that he embraces wizardry.

Bookstores

i. If you see someone reading one of the Twilight series, go to the fella and tell ‘em, “Bad news, in half an hour’s time, a vampire will come and bite you. But here's the good news, Edward Cullen will be doing the job.”
ii. Lift up books on the shelves one by one and say, “Dammit, now which one is that bloody secret switch to open up that secret door to that secret chamber?”
iii. Open a book on nuclear science and laugh uncontrollably so everyone would stare at you. While laughing, tell them: “Damn! This is the funniest shit I’ve ever read!”
iv. Slide your fingers from left to right on the cover of a book repeatedly. Then shout out, “Dang! How do you switch to the next page?”

Train Stations

i. At the ticketing counter, insist on buying a return ticket to Hogwarts.
ii. While waiting for trains on the platform, tell someone near you, “I heard that today’s the Train Goddess Sacrifice Day, I wonder who will be pushed onto the tracks when the train comes today.”
iii. When you board the train, look at the person beside you and immediately make a stunned face. This should be followed by a scream and then running out of the train.
iv. Go to everyone in the train, nudge them softly and ask, “So, are you the guy who sells weed?”

As of now, my list takes a halt here. I have only one question for you readers to ponder upon.

Am I a genius or what?

Technology Generates Stupidity

2011-10-19T20:40:00.002+08:00

I swear in the name of Steve Jobs, Bill Gates and Pamela Anderson that this happened just a few feet away from me today. Two boys. Boy A: Woah, this phone is like, so old man. It’s like, black and white and can only like, display numbers. I don’t think you can like, text with this phone huh? (I've exaggerated his usage of the word 'like', my bad)

Boy B: Dude, this is a calculator.

How To Annoy Someone

2011-10-10T23:15:00.003+08:00

Annoying someone else has always been a passion of mine. There’s just some feeling of achievement that I derive when someone else is affected by the annoyance that I’ve passed to them. Yeah, sadist can somewhat be the right description.

Just the other day, I was reading Punk Chopsticks’ post on a list of things one can do to make himself feel better when he is down. No, it has nothing to do with masturbation. It’s pretty much a list of to-dos that are highly annoying and may risk multiple bitch-slaps on your face/any other part of your body that is intolerant to pain.

By the way, do check out Punk Chopsticks. She’s one of the hidden jewels among awesome female bloggers. Besides, she’s kinda hot. And she basically puts the punk in your chopsticks. Yeah, that didn’t come out right. Sorry, I’m not so good at this.

So this thing about annoying people, I’m pretty good at it too. I can practically be (simultaneously) getting a manicure, applying mascara, putting on toenail polish, watch Gossip Girls and still manage to annoy someone at the same time. Okay fine, I don’t watch Gossip Girls.

But I am that good at annoying the living soul out of another person.

So here are some of my humble yet brilliant suggestions on how to annoy someone. Do note that not all of the following suggestions had been put to practice in reality and the author shall bear no responsibilities from any consequences arising from the conducting of said suggestions.

Lifts

i. Stick the back of your palm on the lips and blow into it so that a loud, nasty fart sound is created. Then when everyone turns to look at you, just shrug and casually say “Wasn’t me”.

ii. Ask someone which floor he/she wants to go to. After they say out the level, cover the buttons, shake your head vigorously and shout “No! Not that floor again! I won’t go back to that damned Nazi torture chamber!”

iii. While everyone is standing solemnly inside the lift, raise both of your hands up and sing “Put your hands up in the air! Put your hands up in the air! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Bob your head for better effect.

iv. When you get off a lift, immediately kneel and kiss the ground. And when people asks you what was that about, tell them that you were in the same lift with one of the country’s most wanted serial killer.

Bus

i. Instead of paying for the tickets in cash, pay in bottle caps. Tell the conductor that those caps will worth approximately 2.573 million dollars in the next 5 centuries. Then tell him to keep the change.

ii. When the bus is moving, stand up abruptly, point at the driver and shout “He was behind the September 11 crash! And he is focusing on land transport already?!”

iii. Repeat the following phrase every 2 minutes in the utmost irritating pitch you can manage – “Are we there yet?”

iv. Just when you're about to alight from the bus, pretend to make a phone call and speak loud, “Yeah boss, the bomb is in position already. I’m getting off now; you can detonate it in five minutes.”

Restaurants

i. Flag down the waiter on duty. When one of them come to you, pat them on their head and say “Good boy”.

ii. When someone is taking down your order, say this at the peak of your voice, “Whaddya mean you don’t serve human meat here? What? You have something against cannibals?”

iii. Take a spoon and walk around the restaurant. Stop by every table and insist that the patrons see you ‘bend the spoon with telekinetic’. When the spoon is not bent (obviously), tell them “I sense a lack of faith from you, infidel”.

iv. After finishing your food, go around the tables to beg for money so that you could pay your bills.

Well, you think that’s all I have? Wrong. There’s more to come. So do stay tuned for my next post. No matter how annoying it may be.

Now, if you would excuse me, I’ve got a bus to hail right now.

Chao Ji Bai

2011-10-03T18:35:00.000+08:00

You know, being super white in Malaysia or Singapore,

Isn’t exactly something that you can be proud of.

You Know What Sucks?

2011-09-24T00:37:00.001+08:00

You know what sucks? The lack of inspiration when the fierce desire to blog arises.

It sucks that when I start to think about what to blog, I can only think about what to eat.

It sucks that when I think about what to eat, my stomach starts growling.

It sucks that when my stomach starts growling, I’ll head to my refrigerator and hunt for food.

It sucks that when I hunt for food, I always end up finding something fattening, sweet or unhealthy to eat.

It sucks that when I find something fattening, sweet or unhealthy to eat, I’ll grow fat.

It sucks that when I grow fat, my conscience turns against me.

It sucks that when my conscience turns against me, I have no idea what to do next.

It sucks that when I have no idea what to do next, I’ll start walking around restlessly.

It sucks that when I start walking around restlessly, my mum starts nagging and asks me to get a life.

It sucks that when I start getting a life, it gets ridiculously interesting.

It sucks that when my life gets ridiculously interesting, I’ll have the urge to share it publicly.

It sucks that when I have the urge to share my life publicly, I will start to think about what to blog.

This sucks.

God Bless My Long Lost Relative

2011-09-19T22:13:00.003+08:00

Internet. You never know what kind of wonders you may stumble upon when one is surfing this humongous network of information and entertainment. Yeah, mostly it’s just porn but hey, there’s more to it than just videos of naked girls.

A few days ago, I received an e-mail from a particular Barrister Kenneth Walker Esq (no idea if he has any blood ties with my dear friends Johnny Walker or Luke Skywalker but it’s actually pretty cool to have a surname like that). In that e-mail, I was informed that a man had died from a horrendous car crash. Well, I assume it’s horrendous because it was stated that the ‘entire family were perished in a forceful Auto-Crash’ (don’t you just love them Europeans) in Madrid.

Bugger must have been a hardcore fan of Real Madrid and was devastated over Real’s 1-0 loss to Levante. Hence the forceful crashing of his auto. Purely my assumption. No substantial evidence whatsoever.

Anyhoos, this guy, apparently, goes by the surname Vincent. And when this Mr. Vincent, well, perished; he left a large sum of money in the bank (€7.5 million to be precise). Yeah, that’s like RM31,784,699.47. Imagine how many boxes of doughnuts I can buy with that sum of money. I’ll probably die an obese and heavily diabetic, but happy man.

Here’s the cool part, according to our Barrister Walker, I was the ‘late’ Mr. Vincent’s next of kin. ME! RM31 million! WOOHOO I’M RICH!

Of course, how could I pass an opportunity like this? I could actually realise my dream of becoming one of Malaysia’s richest and talented and handsomest young man! Yeah, I’m a very shallow person, so sue me.

Immediately, I’ve responded to Barrister Walker and informing him about my interest in this matter.

When I’m finally a rich man, don’t come kissing my ass k?

What To Do On Malaysia Day?

2011-09-16T02:30:00.001+08:00

In conjunction with Malaysia Day, here are a few things we Malaysian should do in order to portray our true identity and patriotism towards this motherland. You know; the land that our mother bought for us from the convenient store? Bad joke, sorry.

So, here’s my recommendation on how we should spend this very auspicious (what you mean it’s not Chinese New Year?) day. [Note that you may not need to follow the list chronologically]

1. Wake up and rush to the nearest mamak stall now and order 2 pieces of roti-telur and the-tarik. Have the aneh-neh uncle to slow down on the sugar in your drink and tell him that prices of sugar may be going up soon coz elections are not anytime soon. But expect your drink to be insanely sweet anyway.
2. Once you’ve finished your super-greasy piece of fried egg wrapped in flour and insanely sweet glass of tea that was ‘pulled’, head on over to Dataran Merdeka. Even though if there’s nothing going on there. If there is no available parking lot, just double-park like a true Malaysian. Don’t worry, Malaysia Day no saman one.
3. While you’re at Dataran Merdeka, ‘savour the feeling of independence’. And get some sunburn in the process. No harm no foul.
4. Once you’re done ‘enjoying the feeling of independence’, head on over to one of those overrated and ridiculously expensive nasi-kandar restaurants nearby. Take a few strands of veggie, a few pieces of meat and a fried egg with lots and lots of kuah kari. Be prepared to pay around RM8 for that plate of whatever you’re eating. And that’s excluding the drinks.
5. After lunch is settled, go all the way down to Pavilion KL just to take a photo of yourself outside of the shopping centre. Then upload it onto Facebook. Like immediately. (idea courtesy of SoMalaysian)
6. Repeat number 5 on different shopping malls in the city centre i.e. KLCC, Times Square and Lot 10.
7. Once you’ve finished taking meaningless and not-in-any-way-attractive photos of yourself, go and get stuck in the traffic jam with the rest of your comrades. Honking is not advised but at the same time, not prohibited.
8. Dinner time! Proceed to a Chinese restaurant and order an exorbitant list of food. Never mind that you can’t finish all of the food served, as long as everyone happy then can already. During this process, be prepared to wait for 1 hour before the food arrives, remind the waiter about your orders (this needs to be repeated for, no need to many times lah, 5 times enough) and pay through your nose when the bill comes.
9. Replay the video of Najib announcing the repealing of the Internal Security Act in his Hari Malaysia speech. Try to guess the number of black hairs he currently has while you’re at it.
10. Lastly, go to bed. Warmly wrapped in a Malaysian flag.

Words alone can’t describe the hardship our forefathers went through to bring us Malaysia. Without the bunch of old chaps fighting for our rights decades ago, we will not be where we are today.

Frankly, nothing in the above list can be done today if there was no patriot on the 31^st of August 1957 and 16^th of September 1963. Learn to love and appreciate something that is given to you not as of right, but a fruit of struggle and persistence.

Lastly, I would like to end my post with a poem.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
If Tunku didn’t go and kamching with the angmoh queen,
Today all of us will be swearing and scratching like a bloody angmoh too.

Happy Malaysia Day y’all!

iBilik Malaysia - All New Room Rentals Website

2011-09-07T20:12:00.000+08:00

Wanna rent a room in Malaysia but you’re just too lazy to go through the newspaper’s classifieds? Or perhaps you would like to avoid all the hassle and trouble of going all the way to your desired location just to find out that no rooms are available for rental? It’s about time you check out iBilik.my, a site specializing in room rentals all around Malaysia.

This website is actually an upgraded and improved version of CariBilik.my, where visitors will be able to access a range of vacant rooms that are put out to let. Instead of jumbling everything up together, available rooms are grouped and sorted out according to state and district. Just like it’s former version, iBilik.my features rooms that for both long and short term rentals.

When you are searching for a room to rent, there’s actually a ‘preference’ section for you to choose from, ranging from race to gender to marital status. Nah, no worries, they don’t ask you anything about your sexual orientation, so even if you’re a sado-masochistic bisexual latex-fetish, you’re still eligible to find a room that suits your needs. As long as your sado-masochistic bisexual latex-fetish activities doesn’t disturb the welfare and wellbeing of the society.

All these talks don’t mean anything if I don’t perform any hands-on, so I tried searching for a room in this condominium that I’m selling right now (yeah, I’m a freelance property agent just so you know so you can shut up and drive and go fly kites).

And the results were pretty amazing, more than 200 rooms to let in ONE condominium alone. Pretty amazing portal I would say, based on my unbiased intelligence and observation.

One thing though, iBilik.my users aren’t given much photos-uploading opportunity. They are only allowed to upload a very limited number of photo. How limited?

Just ONE photo.

Yeah, satu. I wonder if it’s somewhat affected and inclined towards our nation’s One Malaysia motto.

But anyhoos, this site sure has a great bank of rooms to let, so if you need somewhere to sleep, you know just the site to head to.

But remember, if you are renting the room for only one night (you know what I’m talking about), whatever entertainment equipments are NOT provided hor.

Common Malaysian Phrases

2011-08-25T23:06:00.000+08:00

Do you ever have any troubles defining your own heritage? Do you sometimes feel that you are not ‘Malaysian’ enough? Ever doubted your own nationality? Well, worry no more! This is one blog post that will help you discover yourself and reassert your identity.

Here are some common phrases that an ordinary Malaysian would have used in his daily conversation with a fellow Malaysian. All you have to do is go through every single phrase and see whether you’ve used these phrases before.

Got or not oh?
This phrase is usually uttered when a fellow Malaysian is in doubt. Whenever a person speaks of something that is somewhat boastful or dubious, this phrase will inevitably be utilized by the other parties in order to attain a certain form of reassurance.

Example

Ali: I was racing with a Mitsubishi Evo 10 just now on the MRR2 with my Kancil and I won you know!

Lee: Walau eh... Got or not oh?

Now only you know ah?

This phrase is used to show that a Malaysian has acquired certain information before his fellow peers. It may also be applied in situations where everyone in the village has known of a certain event and that there is one dungu who has no idea what happened.

Example

Muthu: Wa, I just realised that bimbo in our class actually had breast implants!
Leong: Ya lah, old news already. Now only you know ah?

Won’t one lah!

When a fellow Malaysian is trying to assure another person that a certain issue won’t arise, this is the phrase he will opt for. Especially used when the other party appears to be unconvinced.

Example

Chan: Now, when you if you use this device, your electricity bill every month will be cheaper by 80% I tell you!

Zainal: Woah. What if I get caught by TNB?

Chan: Won’t one lah!

Double confirm with you again ah.

This is a common phrase that many employees of the servicing sector will use. Usually in situations where reservations for items like hotel rooms/flight tickets/chicken rice order is being conducted.

Example
Operator: Alright Mr. Soo, I double confirm with you again ah, your flight from KL to Timbuktu will depart at 6.30 p.m. tonight ah…

I one look also know.

If a Malaysian is somewhat convinced that he holds certain knowledge regarding a situation, he will use this phrase to imply his intelligence.

Example

Sam: Shit, my car cannot start lah.

Ramli: Aiya, must be your spark plug or battery K.O. already. I one look also know where the problem is already.

My grandmother/grandfather/any aged family members also faster than you ah!

This is to indicate that the other party is being ridiculously slow. Popularly used when a

Malaysian is driving.

Example

Abu: Oi fatty! Walk faster can or not? My grandmother also faster than you ah!

See first lah.

A phrase that is thrown out when a Malaysian may not be able to respond immediately to an invitation to an event by another party. Usually when someone replies this, 99% says that he will not be able to attend your event.

Example

Lim: Dude, you coming for football or not later?

Ahmad: Aiya, see first lah, leg pain lah.

Now, if you’ve used all of the above phrases before, congratulations, you are so Malaysian that if you were to go to Singapore, they one look also know you are a Malaysian.

If you’ve never used any of the above phrases before, well, I one look also know you are on the wrong website already.

Malaysia’s Most Expensive Car

2011-08-17T22:36:00.002+08:00

This is definitely an automotive news that you will not get in any other automotive websites, blogs or magazines. I finally found the most expensive car in our nation! Like usual, I was browsing through Mudah looking for a good ride and I stumbled upon this mystical national treasure. So is it a Ferrari? A Bentley? A Lamborghini? Or even a Maserati? It’s none of the above.

It’s a 1994 Honda Accord. And it even comes with a CD player! How cool is that?

So fellow rich buggers in Malaysia, why buy a yacht or a mansion when you can own a RM23million piece of Japanese tin-box?

My Experience As A Property Agent

2011-08-11T23:20:00.000+08:00

Yeah, I know I’m being a bitch by not updating my blog frequently. There was actually this hypothesis that the frequency of updates on vincephilosophy.com is inversely proportional to the amount of money in my bank account. So get the hint.

Just so everyone knows; I’ve been working for the last two months. And no, I wasn’t spending the last two months slaying dragons in Hogwarts or looking for a virgin in the Playboy Mansion. I was a property agent. You know, the kind sells property? Yeah, I’m that.

I kinda sell a bit of everything. From houses to apartments to shop-lots and even castles. Okay, I don’t sell castles. My job is pretty much selling anything that has a door, a roof, a window and no wheels.

Basically, my job requires a lot of travelling. So for the last two months, I’ve already been to various parts of the UK, US. Ulu Klang and Ulu Selangor that is. Okay seriously, I cover A LOT of areas in KL and Selangor.

After working for two months, I may look like I’m an expert in this field already, but the truth is; I am an expert in this field already. Gosh, didn’t know I could be so such a braggart. I used to be very humble, very handsome, very charming, very tall, very kind, very sweet, very polite and very modest. Gee, I wonder what happened.

You see, I have a relatively awesome superior. He is the reason I’m an expert right now, or at least that’s what I think. He is like the Godfather, not because of his wisdom but because he possesses the looks of a mobsters’ leader. But to sum everything up, I’ve learnt whatever I need to from him in less than a week.

Yes, I sold my first property in less than a week. 5 days, to be precise. And it’s not some chicken coop that I sold, but a triple-storey corner lot. Meh, the price of the house was just over half a million, no biggies. I don’t really like to brag. But I’m kinda awesome.

Somebody please slap me.

Anyways, I’ve learnt a lot from this field. I’ve seen all sorts of clients through out the last 2 months. There were those who spend money like their father owned the national bank. There are also those who are really calculative that even a five cent discount would mean something to them. Some comes in really flashy and posh designer clothes but drives an old Kancil. Some comes in simple shirt and slack but drives a Range Ro.

I’m not trying to sound ridiculous or anything, but some clients can literally be a pain in the ass. If you don’t meet their desired price, they’ll either shove a stick up your ass or they’ll just call you an impotent lad. Been there done that.

Just one thing before I end my long-winded and essentially insignificant to your welfare’s blog post, I need to clarify something. There are theories out in the world that we property agents are a bunch of unscrupulous and covetous hard-sellers who are insanely loud, irritating and simply don’t give two hoots about the society’s wellbeing. What nonsense.

We are not loud okay? Geez.

Who’s The Boss?

2011-08-01T23:00:00.002+08:00

You see, to be a boss isn’t a relatively difficult pursuit. I have a story that I would like to share with you young entrepreneurial enthusiasts out there who are determined to become a boss someday. Do note that this story was inherited for generations and is not a creation by the author of this blog.

Once upon a time, the human body parts were having an intense argument over who should be the boss. An election was then held to select the boss. Each of them presented their own debate on why they should be the man-in-charge. The brain went first.

Brain’s argument

“Oh fellow body parts, I should be the boss simply because I’m the one who controls the action of the body. I make key decisions on what to do and how to react in almost every situation. I base my decisions on purely analytical and evaluative reasoning. I’m the reason our body isn’t a big useless blob of muscle and tissues.”

The eyes were up next.

Eye’s argument

“Dear body parts, I should be in-charge for I am the one who bring vision to the body. It is because of me that our body has a sense of direction and can move around without injuring ourselves. I am literally the light to our movement. I should be the boss.”

This was followed by the nose.

Nose’s argument

“Fellow comrades, elect me as your boss for I am the reason all of you can live. If it isn’t because of me, all of you would be dead by now. There will be no intake of air into our system and I believe none of you could have survived and operate as you are doing right now.”

The mouth then presented.

Mouth’s argument

“Good day to my brothers and sisters. It would only be wise for me to be in-charge of our majestic system for I am the one who performs communication with other living bodies. I broadcast our thoughts, reasoning and request in the form of language and articulation. I am the medium of interaction between two working human bodies. I am the reason a connection and relationship is formed.”

The ears didn’t want to lose out.

Ear’s argument

“Fellow colleague, do make me your boss because I am the receiver of messages in our system. Without me, our body will not be able to pick up messages transmitted by other bodies. In the end, you will all lose out because you do not know what messages the other party is trying to convey.”

Just when the casting of votes were about to begin, the asshole (like literally the hole on our backside) decided to present his argument. This was then welcomed with a wave of insulting laughter and scornful jeers. Every other body parts were practically laughing their ass off. Pun unintended.

This eventually upset the asshole. Without saying anything, he closed himself up and refused to let anything escape from the body. This went on for a few days.

The brain malfunctioned because it couldn’t think well with so much toxic in the body. The eyes were constantly tearing and red. The nose had trouble breathing because every breath it takes made him sick. The ears couldn’t hear well due to the overcrowding waste accumulated in the body. The mouth could not talk because every time it tries to open itself, a wave of puke tries to escape from it.

In the end, they surrendered and elected the asshole as the boss of the body. Everybody lived happily ever after.

The moral of this story, you don’t need to be a brain to be the boss. You just need to be an asshole.

My Experience Watching Chelsea F.C Take On Malaysia

2011-07-27T00:00:00.002+08:00

Part of me really wanted to stay there and a part of me just wished my ass wasn’t there in the first place. That was pretty much an appropriate description about my night at Bukit Jalil when Malaysia XI took on Chelsea F.C.

I reached Bukit Jalil pretty early that day. Well, not that early lah actually, just 3 hours before kick-off. So it was actually just 3 hours of idly sitting in the very humid stadium while waiting for the teams to appear on the pitch.

You know, they didn’t allow supporters to bring plastic water bottles into the stadium. When I asked the officials why was that, they told me it was the stadium’s policy. But funny story, they allowed peddlers to roam around and sell mineral water (which are coincidentally packed in plastic bottles) at a whopping RM3 per bottle. It was like the water was made from Justin Bieber’s pee or something.

The crowd was awesome. A little too awesome actually. But more on that later. Just an hour before kick-off, I would say 90% of the stadium was already packed with people dressed in blue or yellow.

Some tried to stay neutral and wore white to the stadium. Bloody Tottenham supporters think they can fool us. Pfft.

Good thing was, the players came out an hour earlier to start training.

The Chelsea side.

The Malaysian side.

The Chelsea side again. Hey, can’t blame me for being an ardent and bias Blues supporter for the last 6 years. Obviously Chelsea will get more photos on my blog. Duh.

It was 8.45p.m. The moment everyone was waiting for. No, it wasn’t the time Najib got assassinated, silly. It was the time both sides came out from the tunnel onto the pitch.

And once again, I’m being bias by only showing Chelsea’s lineup.

Being bias once more by only photographing Chelsea’s starting eleven. I just can’t help it lah, sorry lah, ISA jangan tangkap saya lah.

Kick-off and blah blah blah the match ended 1-0 after a very lucky goal blah blah blah a very disappointing match blah blah blah but that’s not my point here.

My point would directly reflect the inefficiency of Bukit Jalil stadium’s management. You see, the stadium has more than 80,000 seats. And still, there are spectators who claimed to have no seats even after they’ve ‘searched high and low’.

I arrived at the stadium relatively early and chose a relatively strategic seat. Which was located on the second row of the second tier in the stadium. I could practically see the whole field if no one squats on the walkway in front of me, which was what happened when the match started. Let me put things into an illustration for a clearer explanation.

Alright, blue would be the seats, grey would be the walkway, green would be the field and white would be ~~the ocean~~ ~~a whole other bunch of meaningless stuffs~~ the ocean.

So, when the match kicked-off, a whole bunch of spectators appeared out of no where and started to squat on the walkway. And this particular big, bald and effing rude man decided to stand in the middle of the walkway. Yes, STAND. Like how my mother would have called him a ‘bloody bugger who thinks he ate glass when he was growing up and that he is now made of glass.’

The man made two mistakes. Firstly, standing on the walkway when the match had already started. Secondly, standing on the walkway when the match had already started and blocking my view. Bugger had to go.

A couple of us kinda yelled (but in a polite-Malaysian manner) at the man and asked him to sit down, or at least squat down. Guy refused. The person beside me (a Korean dude, very nice man) got really ticked and started shouting loudly at him. A very heated exchange pretty much took place that time. This time, no more polite-Malaysian manner.

Interesting story, I joined in the heated exchange. Here’s an excerpt of our unpleasant and very loud conversation. You may actually yell out whatever you read to enhance the effect.

Korean dude: Hey mister, you are blocking us. Sit down!

Bald man: I got no place to sit. *gesturing the floor and tries to turn around and continue watching the match*

Me: What do you mean no place to sit? We came here few hours ago to wait, you should have come earlier!

Korean dude: Yes, you came late so you should go and find a seat somewhere else!

Bald man: It’s not a matter of early or late…

Me: Of course it’s a matter of early or late! This is a football match! THIS IS NOT SPARTA! (Okay, I didn’t actually say the last sentence)

Bald man: You look around, where got seats? *tries to gesture around like he is Mahatma bloody Gandhi*

Me: It’s not my problem; you came late and couldn’t find a nice seat doesn’t mean you have to deprive us who came early from enjoying the match.

Bald man: *shakes head and walks away. This was followed by the crowd around me cheering*

Me: Shake your head some more I cut off your head then you know! (Okay, I didn’t say this out loud as well)

Overall, the match was pretty disappointing. Plus, the experience through out the night wasn’t all that pleasant. Frankly, there’s not much positive things I could write about that night except for how the food at the eateries weren’t that cold and tasteless or how I had to park my car only approximately 1 kilometre away or even how I got a pack of free Chelsea F.C. trading cards that were made in 1999 and is virtually worthless today.

Good thing I managed to touch Torres and Drogba the other night. Or else Chelsea’s visit to Malaysia would be an utter waste.

Meeting And Touching The Awesome Chelsea F.C. Players!

2011-07-21T16:11:00.000+08:00

If I were to die today, I will die a happy man. For I have seen and touched my favourite football team, literally.

I was lucky enough to be one of the three bloggers to be given a VIP Chelsea Training Pass. We weren’t treated like normal Very Important Person, but the Very Incredible-Invincible-Irresistible Person treatment instead.

You see those brown chairs with nobody? Yeah, those were our seats, but meh, whatever. *Gee, I’m pretty good at covering up my excitement.*

So who were the three lucky bloggers you were wondering? Firstly, the very good looking me, the very charming MohdZaid, the very macho Eyriqazz and our baby-sitter, the very adorable Mimi!

Of course, being a hardcore Chelsea supporter doesn’t mean I’ll boycott my own country’s national football squad. I did sling a Harimau Malaya scarf over me, okay? Inilah patriotisme namanya.

It was very unfortunate that my camera’s battery decided to die at the very last minute. Well, nobody told me we had to charge the batteries. I’m the victim here okay? Hence, a very big thank you to both Abang Zaid and Abang Eyriqazz for bringing your cameras and uploading ‘em on your sites. Credit goes to you guys for the awesome photos.

The crowd at Bukit Jalil was pretty awesome. It’s like the Bersih rally all over again, but in blue this time.

Training part was anything but ordinary. When Villa-Boas told the guys he meant business, he really meant business. It was no mere walk-in-the-park kind of training. The squad really underwent intense training, just like the ones back at the Bridge. (Pardon all these football jargons).

Training.

And more training. Sorry lah, footballers aren’t as sexy as they say during training sessions.

Oh, our official mascot, Stamford the Lion! Don’t ask me whether it’s a Malaysian behind that costume or not, I don’t know.

Now, the exciting part has finally arrived. No, it’s far more exciting than Voldemort dying in the latest Harry Potter series. Meeting the players! I finally understood the feelings of those hopeless little teenage girls who waited for Justin Bieber outside his hotel room. Coz frankly, I was being a hopeless little teenage girl that night.

We had Paulo Ferreira, the full-back!

Yossi Benayoun, a relatively new midfielder.

One of my favourites, Sturridge on the right, Kalou in the centre and Van Aanholt on the left.

Chelsea’s future star, Josh McEachran followed by second-choice keeper, Ross Turnbull.

Branislav Ivanovic, the versatile right-back who can be a real maestro at times. I still remember how he consecutively headed 2 goals pass Pepe Reina in the Champions League semi-finals against Liverpool 3 years ago.

The great Fernando Torres, the dream-man of almost every girl. Well, get this, I touched him. Suck that, bitches.

Of course, how can we forget our Super Frankie Lampard?

The nightmare of all defenders, Didier Drogba. I can tell you this, his biceps felt like iron rods. How do I know? Well, I casually tapped his arm and said hi to him. But meh, no biggies.

John Mikel Obi, one of Chelsea’s future star.

And our pair of safe-hands, Petr Cech. Apparently Mimi is a very big fan of Petr, she even told him how much she liked him. Sorry Mimi, some secrets you keep, some you don’t. Heh.

Andre Villa-Boas. The name who will bring glory to our club this season. Interesting story, whilst signing an autograph for me, I told him “We will win the title this season.” Villa-Boas smiled and said, “Yes, we will.” Legendary.

Well, I’m not much of a show-off, but here’s a few autographs I got. Let’s see, we have Torres.

Sturridge.

Mikel.

And a couple of other big stars, but meh, no big deal.

Well, after the autograph session, I was supposed to bring the players over to Bukit Bintang for some clubbing session but the manager said they needed a good night sleep. So clubbing tak jadi lah.

I would like to give a big shout-out to Nuffnang and Samsung for helping me realizing this once-in-a-lifetime dream. Thank you so much for bringing me physically close to my childhood club. Thank you for bringing Chelsea F.C. closer to my life, like literally and figuratively.

Without you guys, I won’t be able to touch Drogba and Torres. Heh.

p.s. You’d be an ass if you believed that I was to bring the players out for some clubbing.

Sorry Dear Blog Readers

2011-07-13T23:39:00.000+08:00

To all my dear blog followers and readers who are relatively upset with vincephilosophy.com’s lack of updates, I sincerely apologise for this inconsistency.

My brain just isn’t as screwed-up as it used to be, so writing bullshit can prove to be really difficult nowadays. But I promise to try my level best to bullshit as bullshitty as I can, alright? :)

Why Watch Women’s World Cup?

2011-07-06T00:31:00.002+08:00

As some of you might know, the Women’s FIFA World Cup is currently in play. Yes, it’s that cup where you see 22 chicks with various cup sizes kicking a rubber ball on a piece of green field, 90 minutes at a time.

To me, I’ve always been a fan of women’s football. Well, basically I’ve been a fan of ‘women’ all these while, so the ‘football’ is sort of a bonus lah. I mean, you are actually merging 2 of men’s favourite things together, what more can a man asks for?

I don’t understand how some so-called men find women’s football boring and uninteresting. In my utmost humble and subjective opinion, they are just a bunch of homo chauvinist. They are of the thinking that only a person with a penis should be kicking that damned ball around the pitch and wearing freakishly expensive shoes with studs.

Well, times have changed dudes. Football isn’t just about macho-and-overly-hairy-men (yes, 1992 Ryan Giggs, I’m talking to you) anymore. Beautiful and lusty players are widely accepted on the football pitch in this modern sporting arena, heck, we have really pretty players like Cristiano Ronaldo and Kaka. And of course, we have the women footballers.

You see, here are a few reasons why I find women’s football intriguing.

1. Women can really play good football. They have the skills and playing ability equivalent to a male player. Their dribbling is almost steady, their passing surprisingly accurate and let’s not even talk about their powerful finishing. Call me an unpatriotic snort, but some of these women footballers can produce better football than our national players. Which is purportedly a squad of males.

2. They don’t dive as much as men. Just in case you have no idea what the roti-canai is this ‘diving’ I speak of, it means pretending to fall down when the opposing player was near you but did not have any physical contact with you. Yes, women can be real drama queens at times, but when it comes to football, I don’t see much of this habit being carried out.

3. Its really fun to watch two woman jostling with each other. It’s pretty much a men’s thing so I don’t know how to explain them in words. There’s just this thing about a chick having more than 43% physical contact with another chick that interests a dude (and for some cases, it arouses).

4. There are a couple of hot women footballers that should run for Miss Universe instead of getting the Golden Boots. My favourite women footballer would be Hope Solo of USA. Nah, she’s not in anyway related to Han Solo (I think lah) but she’s damned hot I tell you.

5. Now I cannot elaborate this point as precise as I wished to because I’ve been so informed that my blog consists of readers that are underage and also a great share of female readers. I can only quote my dear old friend Confucius: “Men who watch women football not only watch football but also some other balls. Meatballs they call.” My fellow male readers, please don’t bullshit me by saying you won’t pay attention to this certain meatball.

Yes, when you put boobs and balls (as in football) together, that’s the dream.

p.s. I’m not in any way trying to objectify women here, but if you truly wanna get all sexist about it, I suggest that you take it to the illegal gathering this Saturday and cry all you want.

I'm Going To See Chelsea!

2011-06-29T21:14:00.000+08:00

In case you’re wondering, Chelsea happened to be the name of a renowned English football club and not a stripper. Thanks to Nuffnang and Samsung, my dream to watch my favourite football club in action!

Now, the question is, should I tan myself really dark and attend the match as Didier Drogba or wear a blonde wig and appear as Fernando Torres? Tough one.

Samsung Chelsea Experience

2011-06-24T01:37:00.001+08:00

Ever since I started attending secondary school, I’ve fell in love with this one beautiful thing. Its beauty is incomparable to anything that can possibly be found in this world. The craze and passion for it is undying. It is accepted as a culture worldwide. It is majestic yet humble. It, my dear friends, is football.

When I started playing football (on a very very amateur level only lah) at the tender age of thirteen, I was hooked. Football was like drugs. Er wait, I’ve never did drugs before so I don’t really know how to make a comparison. So slash that and I shall use another illustration. Ah, got it.

Football is like doughnuts, one round is simply not enough; you just want more. You need more. The rush you get from dribbling the ball from one end of the field to another, the excitement you derive when you drive the ball as hard as your legs can and the satisfaction when the ball slips pass the goalkeeper and straight into the net. This is beauty, my fellow peers.

Of course, as a footballer, it is only customary that you follow this professional sport. It is only reasonable for a football enthusiast to be a follower of a particular professional football club. For me, I have the blue blood in me. The Bridge is where I call paradise. In Roman’s Abramovich’s cash-rich empire I pledge my support to. Yes, I’ve been a Chelsea fan since 13.

I’ve been following the progress of Chelsea Football Club religiously for the last 6 years. I’ve seen players come and go, from Andriy Shevchenko to Fernando Torres. I’ve seen the merry-go-round of managers, from Jose ‘the Special One’ Mourinho to Andre ‘maybe the Special One also’ Villas-Boas. I’ve seen literally more than a hundred matches played by Chelsea. I’ve cheered for their successes; sigh for their failures and basically grow alongside this football club in London.

I have a library of collectibles ranging from key-chains to, well, more key-chains.

I have a wall full of posters bearing the faces of renowned Chelsea players (some of ‘em had transferred but I just couldn’t bear tearing the posters down *sniff*). Oh ya, one of the posters with the guy in black suit holding a sword is not a Chelsea player, or for this matter, a footballer. Coz sword is, y’know, prohibited on the pitch. They are, however, allowed in the changing room so that managers can conveniently behead anyone who performed poorly during half-time.

Even though I’m not physically there to support my childhood club (yes, my childhood starts at 13, I don’t see why that’s a problem), the club holds an intense significance in my soul. That ‘Chelsea F.C.’ is engraved in my heart like a tattoo on a hardcore thug. It’s always a dream of mine to see my favourite play a live match, right before my very eyes while I cheer ‘em on and sing the Blues anthems as a sign of patronage.

And now, my dreams had come true. I finally have the opportunity to see my favourite eleven live at Bukit Jalil on 21^st of July!

Thanks to Samsung, now everyone stands a chance to be literally close to this club; one of the greatest football clubs in the world. If you play your cards right, you can even sit with the team as they take on the Malaysia XI! Imagine the experience of listening to Villas-Boas give instructions to captain JT. Imagine sitting beside the charming Frank Lampard and brushing shoulders with striking maestro Didier Drogba. Imagine having casual chats with David Luiz and Florent Malouda. It’s the dream.

All you have to do is purchase any Samsung item(s) worth at least RM300. And I tell you what; I can help you with that, just buy me Samsung Galaxy Tab and you are good to go! You’re welcome.

If you really want to feel and smell the footballers in Blues, log on to www.samsung.com/my or www.facebook.com/samsungunivez to find out more. You can check out Samsung’s range of television. [Click on brochures to enlarge]

Computers and accessories.

And if you can’t stand this tropical heat in Malaysia, you can also check out the range of air-conditioners and air-purifiers.

Not forgetting Samsung’s arsenal of cameras. If you are a person who likes to keep what you see, get a Samsung camera today and start snapping those beautiful ~~girls~~ things that passed you by.

Tired of washing your clothes manually with hands and preserving your food and groceries the conventional way with ice packs? Samsung has what we call washing-machines and refrigerators that can make your life a whole lot simpler.

And lastly, the smart phones by Samsung that will make you the envy of your fellow peers, especially if you get the latest Samsung Galaxy S II that was released only a couple of days ago.

On second thought, I don’t want the Galaxy Tab already. You can buy me the Galaxy S II instead. Thank you very much.

What NOT To Do In Penang

2011-06-19T22:42:00.000+08:00

I just got back from my ‘graduation trip’ in Penang 2 days ago and I can tell you this one thing straight into your eyes – I am officially fat.

Penang can really make a person fat I tell you. I think our health system should start a whole new medical methodology. Say you are underweight; you go to Penang. If you are anorexic; you go to Penang. If you are undernourished; you go to Penang. And if you have STDs; you go to Penang as well. Coz you’re gonna like kick the bucket real soon right, might as well have a good meal up there.

It was only 3 days in Penang, but it sure made me look like I’ve been there for 30 years and have spent everyday of my 30 years worth of life eating. Yes, it was that good/bad. (It depends whether you’re an optimist or pessimist, really)

As a KL boy roaming on the streets of Penang, I’ve learnt a few things. There are certain things that you shouldn’t do on the wild streets of Penang. Here’s a few of ‘em and it is only applicable to you if you are a born-and-bred-KL-fella visiting Penang.

1. Don’t ever go to a Starbucks/KFC/McDonald’s outlet in Penang. Coz if you plan to look for some authentic char koay tiaw or cendol there, you ain’t gonna find them. These outlets are for the locals and locals only. Not because the people up there have something against you, but it’s a custom to not eat/drink something you can commercially get in KL.
2. Don’t honk if you do not have a substantial reasoning and necessity for doing so! Now this is very important. You see, honks are very sacred in that northern island. Honking blindly or what is commonly known as ‘honk-for-fun’ is strictly a birth-right of a Penangite. Only Penang drivers are given the opportunity and priority to honk whenever they please. If you are not a Penang driver and you honk as if you are one, may God bless your loggerheaded soul.
3. Don’t go on flaunting your eloquent KL Cantonese language whenever you are ordering something at an eating place. Chances are,

i. They might not understand you.
ii. They might not understand you.
iii. They might not understand you.
iv. They still might not understand you.

And you might end up having to eat your lunch/dinner at one of the outlets mentioned in item 1 above. Which frankly, makes you a complete jackass.
4. Don’t speak Hokkien unless you are perfectly sure what are you saying and have perfect anticipation and comprehension of what the reply might be. You may think that you can talk the talk in Penang, but in reality, you can only knock your cock. Penang’s Hokkien is very distinctive to the Hokkiens in the southern region of Malaysia. It’s a very subtle and cultured language, which makes the southern Hokkiens sound like a bunch of debt-collecting thugs who lacks childhood love.
5. Don’t go around Penang and compare things up there with things in KL. It’s just rude, really.

If you really have something to compare and talk about between the two states, it is best you do that in KL. At least when one of those Penangites got pissed off and wanna screw you over, it’d take him at least four hours to get here and a few thousand honks through out the journey.

My Nose Is A Slut

2011-06-15T20:05:00.000+08:00

By the time you read this post, It’s already my second day at Penang and I’m now munching down my 27th plate of char koay tiaw and plausibly the 39th bowl of cendol. Yes, 27 and 39, you’ve heard me. Anyways, I was down with flu just a couple of days before heading up to Penang and I’ve bought this Vicks inhaler.

It’s pretty much a stick where I’d shove it up my nostril and take a huge puff of it to soothe my constantly dripping nose. And when I’m down with flu, my stupid male brain kinda screws my vision up for me. The phrase on this inhaler reads ‘Clears stuffy nose due to cold’ in reality. But my messed-up brain sees it as.

Oh yeah, my nose sure was being a slut. No wonder this stick works every time I shove it up those slutty holes.

How To Be A Great Footballer

2011-06-12T22:53:00.001+08:00

Once upon a time, there was an English footballer by the name Gerrard. He wasn’t very big in size and he lives on a table in some crazy young blogger’s room in Malaysia; but he sure played good football.

Even though Gerrard was a good footballer, he hasn’t been winning any trophies lately. Maybe he hasn’t been winning because he is a little plastic display doll, but there’s a whole other story. So one day, Gerrard was chilling and relaxing on a laptop, literally.

Then along came another footballer by the name Rooney. He was also a pretty good footballer. The only difference is that Rooney had been trophies recently. A lot of ‘em, in fact.

Rooney started dissing Gerrard about how he ain’t winning any trophies.

The dissing became so bad that it turned personal and name-callings were introduced into the Gerrard’s face.

Things were starting to get really ugly and both of them are that close to releasing tremendously impactful fist-bumps on each other’s head.

Out of no where, a Good Samaritan who happened to be a footballer as well came to stop them. His name was Fabregas. Alright, I’ll get even with you. I was the one who put Fabregas there coz he can’t really move actually. He, just like Rooney and Gerrard, is a little plastic display doll.

Fabregas then said the wisest thing any footballer can ever say.

It immediately made both Gerrard and Rooney to cease their scrap and rethink about their actions.

And they all became friends. They even went on signing for the same football club called Chelsea because they love each other too much.

So children, the moral of the story is.

Don’t play with dolls alone in your room unless you are a girl (in which I am apparently not). It’s just wrong. Very wrong.

This Blogger, 15 Years Ago

2011-06-06T18:26:00.002+08:00

I was just going through some of my old stuffs and I found gold. Honestly, Justin Bieber and the Jonas sisters can step aside right now coz I just found a photo of myself taken 15 years ago and it can be established that I was once obscenely adorable.

Wait a second, I still am obscenely adorable right now. True story. Teehee.

A New Home

2011-06-04T00:11:00.000+08:00

Now, remember my new grandchild (it’s gender is still a mystery) that came in the form of four legs and ridiculously furry? Well, the family decided to build the little kid a new home. It’s a little run-down, but hey, at least there’s a roof over that little kiddo.

Oh right, no flash photography. Sorry.

A Censored Scene In Fast Five!

2011-05-30T17:30:00.000+08:00

If you’ve recently watched Fast Five you will know just how mind-blasting it was. It was so mind-blasting that if you were to go in to the cinemas after the show ended, you’ll find exploded brain remainings all over the place and one pity cleaning lady with a mop, cussing and swearing the director Justin Lin, his ancestor and perhaps his ancestor’s ancestor. Trust me, it literally blast minds.

There is however, a scene in the movie that was censored and never aired in cinemas all around the world. Not even one. It was said to have infringed the copyrights of another relatively renowned movie. There are also reports that this particular scene stirred a riot in Greece, for it was deem offensive to the Greek culture and history. Today, I’m bearing a very great risk uploading a screenshot of said censored scene here. Therefore, PLEASE appreciate this peril that I’m putting my life in.

It takes place during the meeting between Luke Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) and Dom Toretto (Vin Diesel) at the underground racers’ gathering. When officer Hobbs wanted to arrest Dom, the gathering of racers took out their guns and pointed at Hobbs and his men. Dom went on raising his palms up and said in a firm and intimidating manner, “This is Brazil!”

Now, in the movie, it actually went on seeing officer Hobbs leaving the place with his crew of big-ass muscular man. But here’s the uncensored version. Before Hobbs left the place, King Leonidas from 300 (played by Gerard Butler) actually made an appearance and said something even intimidating, which was the main reason that made Hobbs leave because he nearly wet his pants out of sheer fear.

It was really a wise choice for Hobbs to leave because you won’t want 300 gruesome Spartans killing the shit out of you with their bare hands and oversized spears. Good call, Hobbs, good call.

This Blogger Is Having His Big Day Tomorrow

2011-05-26T17:39:00.000+08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, hot chicks and not so hot chicks, I have an announcement to make. From tomorrow onwards, I will be subjected to a series of mental provocation and God forbid, torment called exams. Therefore updates will be slightly irregular and once again God forbid, meaningless. So help me God,

Please don’t let me have a hangover tomorrow. Thank you very much, Sir.

I’m A Grandfather Now!

2011-05-23T22:51:00.000+08:00

As much as I love to rewrite the history of Disney, I have to break the chain of story-retelling and bring you good news. I am officially a grandfather, again.

Yup, one of my cats gave birth to a beautiful little angel a few weeks back. Technically, I still don’t quite know if the kitten’s a he or a she or an ‘in-between’, so let’s just call it, it. It was a tri-colour little kitty that weighs no more than a piece of beef steak when its mummy carried it home few days after it was born.

And a few days after being introduced to its charming, youthful and insanely jubilant grandpa (in case you don’t know, I’m referring to myself), the little kitten had finally open its puny and bubbly eyes and for the first time, took a peek at the world it’ll be living in for (hopefully) the next few years.

As of today, the kitten is still unnamed. Therefore, any suggestions are gladly welcomed. Damn, I feel so Najib right now, asking people to name my new cat publicly as though I have no slightest mental ability to come up with a two-syllable pet name.

So far, the kid’s been a healthy little rascal. Kid’s been drinking regularly (drinking from its mummy’s tits, that is, and not from its grandpa’s can of Heineken), been learning how to run in a straight line properly, been pooping and peeing at every possible location shamelessly and the kid’s also been scratching every little moving thing that passes by it. So cute.

So, now that I’m a grandfather, do I get an income tax exemption for like, the rest of my life? I don’t have the foggiest idea on how Malaysia’s tax law operates, so do enlighten me.

And I don’t care if I haven’t started paying income tax yet, I’m a grandfather, for crying out loud.

Snow White, The Malaysian Version

2011-05-20T23:29:00.000+08:00

Now, in my previous post, I’ve rewritten one of the renowned fairytales in the world that speaks of deceit, jealousy, sorcery and consumerism – Cinderella from the authentic Walt Disney version into a more realistic and relevant Malaysian version. Today, I’ll attempt to do the same thing on another famous Disney story.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Right, naming your child ‘Snow White’ in Malaysia is just too cheesy. It makes your kid sound very cheap and frankly, pathetic. Therefore, Snow White will henceforth be known as Xiao Bai Mei. At least it sounds reasonable and not at all inauthentic.

So this Xiao Bai Mei chick, like any other delusional Disney princess-to-be, lives with her stepmother who is portrayed by media to be an evil and diabolical woman. In Xiao Bai Mei’s case, her stepmother happened to be the second wife of a very infamous pirated DVD tycoon in the heart of Kuala Lumpur – Petaling Street.

Again, like any other delusional Disney princess-to-be, Xiao Bai Mei was pretty, adorable and sweet. But, just like the Malaysian Cinderella, God wasn’t being generous to Xiao Bai Mei at the chest department simply because she was one of those stereotyped Asian girls. Therefore, no papaya for Xiao Bai Mei; only two miserable kiwis dangling on her torso.

Because Xiao Bai Mei was the only child to the pirated DVD tycoon, she will one day take over her father’s business in Petaling Street and her stepmother wasn’t pleased one bit. I mean, this storyline is just typical lah, pretty stepdaughter, wicked stepmother, one of them kill the other in the end. Case closed.

But I’m not that lazy okay? I rewrite it and I rewrite it good.

One thing about this stepmother, she doesn’t have a magic mirror hung on bedroom wall. I mean, talking mirror? Please. The only thing I want when I look into the mirror is to see if my hair was properly done and not some jackass telling me which bitch stole my limelight.

Instead of talking mirror, stepmother has a 49-inch 3D telly on her wall. And instead of weird jackass talking in the mirror, she has a Twitter account. She stalks Xiao Bai Mei like a lunatic Twitter follower and everyday, Xiao Bai Mei just keep getting popular. Evil stepmother couldn’t take it anymore when Xiao Bai Mei had her 10,000^th follower.

Evil stepmother needed to get rid of that little bitch, so she came up with a plan. She hired an Indian man to splash acid on Xiao Bai Mei. She wanted the hitman to splash so much acid on Xiao Bai Mei that even her bones will melt. As a proof of completing his task, acidman was supposed to bring Xiao Bai Mei’s Petaling-Street-Prada stilettos back to the evil stepmother.

This asshole, being a typical asshole, couldn’t perform his task well. He kept splashing acid on the wrong girl. As of today, more than 30 girls had been a victim of his fiendish and satanic act. And none of them were Xiao Bai Mei. He had problems recognizing faces it seems, rare but true condition. Bloody asshole oughta just castrate himself I tell you.

And if you’re wondering when will the seven dwarfs come into the picture here, well, they won’t. Come on lah, get real. What is a hot chick doing staying with seven horrendously ugly with weird personalities, physically challenged and sex-deprived man? It’s just not logical! Try leaving your teenage daughter with seven old uncles who don’t have wives and see. They’ll practically violate her like a group of hungry food bloggers on a pot of bah-kut-teh.

Hmm, speaking of which, it’s been a while since I had BKT, anyone?

Back to the story. So acidman couldn’t kill Xiao Bai Mei. Fine. Evil stepmother had a better plan anyway – she decided to poison her Apple iPhone 4. When Xiao Bai Mei’s iPhone got poisoned, she could not longer tweet, thus her popularity decreased and it hit Xiao Bai Mei pretty badly. Stepmother’s plan was working out pretty well. At least that’s what she thought.

Just when Xiao Bai Mei decided to end her life because she could no longer tweet and check-in foursquare, her prince charming on a white Proton Saga appear before her. It was one of the China goods vendor that runs his business in the dark alleys of Petaling Street. He was there to end Xiao Bai Mei’s misery.

He walks up to Xiao Bai Mei and hands her a box. He whispers in her ears, “It’s a brand new model, jailbreak already, got Tweet Deck and Echofon also. You can tweet like you always do, leng lui” She couldn’t believe her eyes. There in her hands were the latest and hottest iPhone 4 lookalike from China – the iPhoon 4.

Xiao Bai Mei was overwhelmed. She couldn’t be more exhilarated than she is right now. And they got married and lived happily ever after and she took over her father’s pirated DVD business and her evil stepmother got stroke and died and forever ever after.

The end.

Yeah yeah, I know, it doesn’t make any slightest sense, but come on lah, it’s Disney. Anything can happen, so just go with it lah okay?

Vincephilosophy.com, serving you authentic bullshit since 2008.

Cinderella, The Malaysian Version

2011-05-17T22:32:00.000+08:00

Since the dawn of fairytales, Mr. Walt Disney, God bless his soul, had been giving girls around the globe delusions that they too, can meet their prince charming on a white horse and have a happy monogamist life forever with said prince charming. What’s with girls and a metrosexual dude riding a white pony anyway?

That got me thinking, what if Mr. Walt Disney wasn’t a creative Caucasian man who has endless supply of fairytale ideas? What if he was a Malaysian man with a mindset of say, the author of this green blog?

And then I realised, it’s about time someone told the world how creative Malaysians can be. Hey, we can write fairytales too okay! Heck, we even have our own local and authentic fairytales, namely the tale about an MP who nailed his aide who happens to be a dude, then there’s the tale about the same MP who had his way with a Chinese hooker and my all-time favourite, there’s the story of a Mongolian woman who self-destructed in our country. God I sure love our fairytales!

Now, back to Uncle Disney being a Malaysian ah pek.

There will only be a few plausible outcomes. Here’s a list of how renowned Disney characters might churn out, should Mr. Walt Disney hold the identity and mentality of a particular Malaysian blogger boy.

And for the next few posts, it’ll all be about Disney characters being rewrote and retold, the hardcore Malaysian style. Today, I will recreate history. That’s right History textbook, get ready to be stripped naked and violated like an opposition MP’s aide. What up.

Cinderella

Cinderella might end up having a badly figured out Chinese name. Though it may be something of a profound and significant meaning in the Chinese language, it’s just messed up in English. She might be called Sin Le La.

So growing up in Malaysia, Sin Le La will grow up with her stepmother who happens to be a GRO in one of those dodgy karaoke lounges in Chow Kit. And she also lives with 2 stepsisters, who are really spoilt college students. But they hold no significance in this story, so that’s all about them you’ll read of.

One day, the owner of the karaoke lounges in Chow Kit where Sin Le La’s purportedly evil stepmother works at, decides to find a wife for himself.

He then throws a karaoke competition and invites all the eligible girls in town and will then wed the girl who can sing the famous Hokkien tune ‘Ai Pia Jia Eh Eia’ (when loosely translated in English, it means Must Work Hard Only Can Win) without looking at the lyrics.

Sin Le La, without her stepmother’s knowledge, joined the competition and dazzled Mr. Chow Kit Karaoke Tauke. She successfully sang the song in three different versions, first in acoustic, then in staccato and lastly the Tamil version. Tauke was so amazed with Sin Le La and he decided to marry her, there and then, even though honkers were only of a cup size A. Coz you see, she’s an Asian. And Mr. Karaoke Owner is also an Asian. So ya, let’s not make a big deal out of size okay?

When the clock struck 12, Sin Le La stopped singing at once. She had to leave immediately. She had to go because the last RapidKL bus is leaving in 10 minutes and she doesn’t want to go home by taxi because she’ll be slapped with a 50% surcharge. And some cabbies don’t even bother to use the meter. I know right? KL taxi drivers. Pffft.

As Sin Le La was running to the bus stop, one of her Bata slippers fell off of her feet. She glanced at her RM9.90 slipper and then back at the bus stop – her bus was leaving any minute now – She left her slipper there and went for the bus instead. Meh, the Bata sale will be on next week anyway, she thought.

Yeah, as expected, GRO stepmom found out about this and got really pissed. Upon hearing about Sin Le La’s future, stepmom got really upset. Who is gonna take over her job when she finally retires at the age of 37? This wasn’t happening. Sin Le La must be stopped.

As she was walking to Sin Le La’s bedroom with a bottle of acid, a group of people barged in their squatter house. It was the DBKL, a local authority who specializes in taking down squatter house and pirated DVD rings. They had come to demolish the illegally erected house that stood proudly in Chow Kit.

But there was a twist to the story, Mr. Chow Kit Karaoke Tauke appeared out of no where (actually he came with his heavily modified Proton Satria with an insane number of LED lights all over the car and big ass exhaust pipes, not to mention really loud and annoying speakers) and what he did next portrays a very heroic and masculine act mankind has ever envisaged!

He gave the DBKL guys RM20 each and asked them to go drink coffee at the nearby kopitiam. Which they eventually did.

Right then, he took out the Bata slipper that was mentioned earlier in the story (don’t ask me what was he doing going around town with a Bata slipper in his pocket). And he walked to Sin Le La. He gazed into her in the green contact-lens-eyes and slowly he went down to his knees. He lifted Sin Le La’s feet and gently slipped the RM9.90 slipper into it. He then popped the question in the most romantic and sexiest tone ever.

“Baby, will you mally me?”

And they lived happily ever after. In their 2-bedroom apartment in Titiwangsa. The end.

Stay tuned for more Disney rewrites only on vincephilosophy.com, your one stop bullshit station.

We Bloggers Are Awesome

2011-05-14T23:13:00.003+08:00

As you know, we bloggers are full of awesome.

We are so awesome that you just can’t help but give us one big thumb up.

We are so awesome that your Blackberry wants to be our friend.

We are so awesome that you’ll wanna scoop a spoonful of us and just devour us.

We are so awesome that awesome wanted to marry us and live happily ever after with us.

We are so awesome that even death won’t do us apart.

We are so awesome that the God of awesome gives us high 5 on a daily basis.

We are so awesome that every single breath we take just wanna stay in us and never have to leave.

We are so awesome that the sun shines everyday because of our existence.

We are so awesome that every room we enter tremors with quakes of awesomeness.

We are so awesome. Just awesome.

So awesome that we talk a bit too much rubbish on our blogs sometimes.

I Saw A Pair Of Boobs At The HyppTV Blogger’s Party

2011-05-11T21:49:00.000+08:00

I swear in the name of Pamela Anderson’s knockers.

That I so did not stand in front of the TV set during the party and wait for this pair of boobs to appear on screen so that I could snap a photo of ‘em.

I Was At The Awesome Nuffnang HyppTV Blogger’s Party!

2011-05-08T23:19:00.003+08:00

Not many people can proudly say this, but I can say this with my heads held high and toes slightly tipped to make up for my deficiency in height – I was at the Nuffnang HyppTV Blogger’s Party last Friday!

But before that, I was lucky enough to buy a cup of green tea frap for half price at Starbucks before heading over to the party. Yes guys, it was their last day selling cheap frap. Promotions over and no more half-priced frappuchino anymore. You can start crying now. Thank you.

So the HyppTV Blogger’s Party was held at this rather elegant and cosy restaurant called Neo Tamarind, which is along Jalan Sultan Ismail.

I have to say, I’m not quite a fan of fine dining because I simply don’t look fine when I dine, but this place, sure made me felt different. It has this really homey atmosphere. If you’re looking for a place to propose to your fiancée/tell your husband that you’re pregnant/tell your fiancée that you have a husband, look no further.

Before the party kicked off, we were served a few rounds of this drink which I have no idea what it’s called but tasted sinfully nice.

We were served some classy finger food.

Classy finger food served on a spoon.

Classy finger food served on something that looked like a spoon but isn’t a spoon.

And finally, more classy finger food.

And when the finger food stopped coming, it could only meant one thing. The party has begun! First, some top-level management guy from HyppTV gave a speech. And this guy, for some peculiar, looked like Eric Tsang to me. Look closely, I kid you not.

HyppTV’s very own band and singer. Can somebody tell Batman to go save the world on his own coz Catwoman here is rocking sox!

At the party, they had a few TV sets airing a few different channels from HyppTV and everyone was invited to explore the sets and have a feel of how HyppTV is like at home. So here’s Isaac exploring the HyppTV console. Look at how he changes the channels, so professional.

HyppTV has literally hundreds of channel.

Ranging from sports channel.

To channels airing nothing but girls clad in only bras and panties.

Here I am with Nuffnang’s featured blogger of the month Eyriqazz who went on winning the best dressed male later that night.

And here’s the hot mama who bagged the best dressed female title.

Oh oh, I forgot something, the theme of the party was Hollywood. So I was actually appropriately dressed for it. You see, I attended the party as Jackie Chan who’s very casually dressed to avoid paparazzi and unwanted attention. Perfectly logical right?

Now, highlight of the entire night – Michelle going home with a brand new iPad2! For some of you who had no foggiest idea who Michelle is, well, she’s one of the hawties who works at Nuffnang. Nuff said.

Here’s Mr. Eric Tsang lookalike giving Michelle, the hawtie who is working at Nuffnang her iPad2.

And here’s Jackie Chan with the iPad2 winner, the hawtie who works at Nuffnang.

All in all. Awesome party. What more can I say?

Good thing nobody realised I was Jackie Chan, or else I’ll have a tough time leaving the building with paparazzi mobbing me from top to toe. Instead, they mobbed the hawtie who works at Nuffnang for she now has a new iPad2. Phew, that was really close.

Dr. House Is DEAD

2011-05-05T22:06:00.001+08:00

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read on if you are a hardcore fan of the popular medical drama House. This just in, the lead character of the series has been ‘murdered’ and will no longer be a part of the series anymore.

Yes, Dr. House had experienced a purportedly gruesome murder in the series, the kind of death where no ordinary men can endure. The entire ordeal was deem brutal but Dr. House was said to have put up a good fight with his murderers and he showed no sign of petrification. A brave man indeed, many critics and fans had commended Hugh Laurie’s almost-realistic acting.

Yes, Dr. House is now dead. And vincephilosophy.com is the one and only media in the world who is divulging Dr. House’s ghastly murder.

Yes, House was practically fried to death like a freaking yao zha guai. It was a hot and oily death, I tell you.

Why My Mum Can Cry

2011-05-03T18:20:00.000+08:00

Yeah, it was my momma’s birthday last weekend. I thought it’d be nice to buy her a nice massage package in a beauty saloon located at IOI Boulevard. And I also thought it’d be nice to put my eloquent but sinfully irritating wordplay on her birthday gift envelope.

I can understand why my mum will cry to have a son like this. Happy birthday mumsy!

Received My BIG Nuffnang Cheque Again!

2011-05-01T00:00:00.007+08:00

It’s that time of the year again. And no, it’s not the deadline for you to pay up your taxes although vincephilosophy.com will like to bring you a gentle reminder to blardy pay up your taxes so the blardy government can blardy fix the blardy road and blardy streetlights. A blardy thank you. Now back to the show.

As a Nuffnanger, I anticipate the arrival of this day more than I anticipate that of Chinese New Year. Yes, today is the day I receive my Nuffnang paycheck! And it’s a BIG one some more. I show you how different is this one day as opposed to the 15 days of Lunar New Year.

Seriously, during that 15 days duration of CNY, I had to locomote from houses to houses; put up a smile; carry 2 undersized oranges in my hands and bow to adults whilst hailing out phrases like “Gong Xi Fa Chai, May You Have More Business This Year, May Your Health Be Like Dragon And Horses etc.” in return for an angpau packet worth RM2 (sometimes God forbid, only RM1).

On the other hand, this one special day where the mailman drops that envelope containing my cheque courtesy of Nuffnang into my mailbox, I was only required to walk out of my house door, to the box and retrieve the mail. And that’s about it.

No going around clutching my fists together and wishing people ten thousand good lucks, no driving around in the horrendous CNY traffic jam just so I could go pay a visit to my granduncle’s cousin’s daughter’s nephew’s god-brother house and of course, no worrying that my angpau collection of the day will go missing within that 3 rounds of Blackjack with some pathetic gambler cousins.

Well, although it’s just a humble sum. But it sure meant a lot to me.

As a sign of gratitude, Imma post lots and lots of camwhore photographs of myself with the much talked-about Nuffnang cheque.

I love my cheque.

Still loving my cheque.

Loving it like I just got engaged to it.

Never loved it so much.

Yeap, really loving it.

LOVED IT! FIVE FREAKING HUNDRED!

Yeah I love it so much that the law required me take a mug-shot with it.

And the renowned Nuffnang shout-out pose. Yabadabanuffffffffnang.

Oh well, if you are thinking of asking me for a loan, requesting a meal from me or just wanna tell me your birthday is near, I’d suggest you forward your application to my personal assistant Lord Lulu, an orang-utan from the nearby orang-utan sanctuary in Sabah. He will get back to you as soon as he finished mating.

Anyhoos, a big thank you to Nuffnang for this piece of paper you gave me.

Let’s hope I receive a bigger one next year ya. If can, 4 digits one ah, Boss. No pressure. *wink wink*

p.s. I is vain. I is don’t care. You can go fly kite. I can go buy clothes that are nice nice. Blek.

I Wanna Party With Nuffnang And HyppTV!

2011-04-29T02:35:00.007+08:00

As an Asian, it’s a very challenging task to dress up as a Hollywood character simply because, well, our skin tone, hair colour and eyeballs ain’t doing us a favour.

For the past few days, I’ve been cracking my head trying to figure out what’s the best Hollywood character I could dress up as for the HyppTV Blogger's Party but to no avail.

It’s depressing. I just can’t figure out which character suits me the most!

I can’t dress up as Superman because my puny physical appearance will only make me look like a terribly underweight and anorexic schoolboy wearing tights. And the ‘S’ sign on my chest might look like an ‘I’ because I don’t have enough chest muscle and abs to expand the fella.

Next, I tried Spiderman; which didn’t quite work out as well. Yeah, dressing up as Spidey will be as easy as wearing a pantyhose over my head and tights that are so compact that a very suggestive bulge will appear in between my legs. But you see, the thing is, we live in Malaysia lah. The heat here can be as intense as Chef Wan’s oven in his kitchen. So, running around town with a pantyhose wrapped around your head might actually induce heat-exhaustion and publicly portray yourself as a top-class idiot.

Then, I’ve decided to go with Batman. But to think about it, wearing black from top to toe in Malaysia, well, pretty much implying racism. Should I dress up as Batman and walk the street of Kuala Lumpur, I might get my bum-bum whooped by groups of people. And don’t forget I have a stupid cape that will potentially slow me down when escaping. And not to mention that inutile sidekick of mine who wears striking colours to work everyday. How to hide when your assistant is wearing bloody colourful outfits?

Crap. This is getting bad. I completely have no idea what to wear.

And then it struck me. I don’t have to dress up as an angmoh to the party. I can dress up as Jackie Chan! Yes! That’s it! You see, we share the same tone of skin.

Same hair colour. And reluctantly speaking, maybe same hairstyle (debatable but hey, there's something called wig).

And heck, even our eyeballs also same colour!

Oh my goodness. I really think we look alike! Don’t believe ah? I show you! This is Jackie Chan.

And this, my friend, is a total Jackie Chan lookalike! Right?

Yes, this is perfect. As hard as I was out there trying to fit myself in the shoes of a white person (forgive the pun, because seriously, I have small feet), I’ve totally neglected my own kind! Yes, there is in fact an Asian Hollywood character out there! You see, Jackie isn’t just an actor in Hollywood; he is a character.

First, he is one of the few Asian uncles over there.

Second, he knows how to whoop people’s bum bum like any other Hollywood superheros.

And thirdly, he even has his own cartoon! I mean, how is he not a Hollywood legend?

So dear Nuffnang, can I please be a part of this Hollywoodilicious event on the 6th of May 2011 (Friday), 6.45 p.m. sharp at Neo Tamarind, Jalan Sultan Ismail? I promise I’ll be the best couch potato at the entire party and be the most enthusiastic TV watcher the entire party has ever seen!

Now now, I’ve said please. Don’t make Jackie Chan angry. You don’t like Jackie when he is angry.

Just How Screwed Up Are Buses In Kuala Lumpur?

2011-04-26T23:50:00.001+08:00

They say if you are able to navigate yourself around the great city of Kuala Lumpur by bus without being late, lost or God forbid, dead; then you are one true legend.

I started relying on the bus service in KL since form 1 (that was 6 years ago when I was only 13, mind you) and I can proudly tell you today that things with the bus companies had never improve through out the last 6 years. You see, 6 years ago, the service provided by the available bus companies were shitty, substandard and thoroughly screwed-up. Today where the society is purportedly to be in civilization, the service is still shitty, substandard and thoroughly screwed-up.

Yeah, sure they might have did some form of ‘improvements’ like replacing their old buses with new ones, introduced new ticketing system, new bus route and maybe some new television set in the buses. But that’s about it. After 6 years worth of time, I still feel like a contestant on Survivor when I’m about to board that RapidKL bus home.

The biggest problem boils down to the drivers. You see, drivers are the core component of every bus company (of course drivers are important lah what are you talking about man, or else your roti-canai uncle more important meh?) and if the said main component don’t live up to standards and expectations, you might as well close down your business and go start something else, like selling toilet paper or something like that.

In Malaysia, buses are never on time. Even if they are on time, it’s never your bus. So waiting for buses in KL, especially, can train one’s patience. So what’s the source of this unpunctuality problem? You are correct if your guess was from the driver itself. But punctuality is overrated, I mean, come on lah, who actually arrives somewhere on time? Pfft, so not Malaysian.

Timing isn’t the only problem with drivers, their attitude is another big turnoff.

I give you an illustration about that one time I took the Metrobus some long long time ago where dinosaurs still exist. Before I proceed with my tale, I have the onus to inform you that the drivers of Metrobus are popular for their notoriety and brainlessity. So there I was in the bus intending to alight at the next stop; I pressed the bell and for some miraculous reasons the bell wasn’t functioning – I missed my stop.

I ran up to the driver and told him to stop like any other boys-who-missed-their-stop-because-the-bloody-bell-can’t-ring would. That ended with the bus screeching to a halt in the middle of the road and attracted simultaneous blares of honking from the vehicles behind, you know KL drivers lah, the love their honks more than their wives.

Instead of apologizing to me, the driver showered me with dirty words and it was followed by a 5-minutes speech scolding me, my parents, my grand-parents and I believe at some point he even scolded my future children. I was only what, 13 or 14 at the time of the incident? I was only approximately 5 feet tall and weighed no more than a roasted turkey. And at that point of time, my mouth, brain and limbs weren’t as developed like how it is today so I only stood there and took what was thrown in my face.

Let’s fast forward a little. It was a cloudy afternoon some time in February 2011. I was on my usual RapidKL bus on the way home from the LRT station. Again, for some miraculous and mystical reasons, the bus didn’t take its usual route. It made a detour back to the bus depot which was more than 10 kilometres away from where I was suppose to disembark. This led to me confronting the driver as if I’m some Bollywood hero.

This time, the explanation was that the bus ran out of fuel and that logically speaking a bus could not move it there was no fuel in it. Well, logic not flawed and hence explanation accepted. It didn’t even matter when the refueling took about half an hour because the driver had to go to the loo, grab a can of Coke from the depot’s office, finish the can of Coke, chit-chat with the other drivers and read the sports section of a newspaper. I was cool with it like how Charlie Sheen was cool with people making a mockery out of his life.

When my journey resumed, the driver continued driving on an entirely new route whom none of us in the bus was expecting. And the bad news was, this new route wasn’t going to pass by my stop. Once again, the Bollywood hero in me took possession. Explanation, it wasn’t ‘convenient’ continue that route because he needs to make a BIGGGGGGGGGG turn and it’s time-wasting for him. I think he needed to rush home and catch the finale of some unpopular telenovela on TV3.

This time, I remember the conversation pretty well. Here’s a remake of the said conversation between myself and the bus driver. And ya, it’s translated because you wouldn’t want to know how crappy my Malay language is.

Me: Eh bro (translation for abang, right?) where are you going?
Driver: I’m following a new route.
Me: What you mean by new route? How about my stop at *some place lah, you dunno where one if I tell you*?

Driver: Aiya not convenient lah, I need to drive all the way out to the main road there and U-turn. After I cannot follow my schedule how? We are half an hour late already actually.

Me: What the fudgery are you talking about? First of all, you should refuel your flowery bus before you pick up any passengers. Second, I don’t give a shalalalala if you are not schedule since you’ve decided to take a detour without informing the passengers before hand. Thirdly, how am I suppose to falalalala get home now that we are on a totally new route? (I wasn’t good with vulgarism in Malay but I still wanted the effect, therefore some funny words in the sentence)

Driver: Okay I drop you of here you walk back in.

Me: FART YOU LAH! _|_ (I got off the bus anyway)

Get my point? No matter how nice, comfortable and advanced your facilities might be, if the driver is shit, your whole system is screwed. It’s already bad enough that some of the bus drivers are driving as if they are on an F1 track and are racing with the other cars on the street to win some trophies, but the ‘backdated phase mentality’ virtually rips your reputation into distorted pieces.

And just today, another episode took place between the Bollywood hero in me and the bus driver (it’s a never ending battle I tell you). For some miraculous, mystical and supernatural reasons (like usual), the bus only allowed passengers with the infamous and problematic Touch ‘n’ Go cards. So when I was boarding, the bus driver pointed to a self-printed notice on the bus door telling people that the bus only allowed passengers with the card. Because I’m using an older version of the said prepaid card, the reader couldn’t process my card. Therefore I was not permitted on the bus. Again, bus messed with Bollywood hero.

My argument was that, look, I have a card, it has credit in it. The whole problem was the reader inside your bus. I didn’t ask God to install a high-end machine in that bus so it was entirely not my fault. I tried to resolve the problem by offering to pay in cash like how I had previously been doing. But noooooooo, policy is policy. Until and unless Barisan Nasional crushes into the chasm of defeat, that bus will only allow passengers who has the never version of Touch ‘n’ Go. And no cash can bring me home.

So for the first time in my life, I was chased off the bus and demanded that I wait for the following bus which was ‘supposed to arrive in a short while’. Which was approximately half an hour later. Yup, Malaysian timing remember?

If you think I’m dissing, condemning and derogating bus companies in Kuala Lumpur, you Goddamn bet I am because you guys don’t deserve no praises. That’s all I have for now. No point going on and on about how terrible the bus system in Kuala Lumpur is. You need to experience things for yourself.

Like Mahatma Gandhi once said, ‘The only thing worse than the overpopulation in India is the terrible bus service in KL. Peace out bitches.’

Customers You Will Meet At PC Fair

2011-04-24T23:28:00.003+08:00

I remember a wise blogger once said, “one out of ten customers that approached a promoter is a big asshole.”

So I was working at the PIKOM PC Fair in KLCC last weekend selling anti-virus. Yeah, y’know that little software that purportedly protects your computer from viruses, malware, spam and a whole lot of other IT threats. That software where a lot of you cheap buggers out there had conveniently downloaded it from the internet without paying a single cent. That software where some of you even went on to generate crack codes so you too can enjoy the full version of it without paying but not knowing that it is actually against the law for doing so. Yeah, that anti-virus.

It isn’t easy selling anti-virus software, especially in a land where people are spoilt with free versions of anti-virus and pirated anti-virus software. People don’t seem to grasp the importance of having a genuine and authentic line of defence for their computers.

How many of you know that one new virus is created every 1.5 second (this statistic was attained during my conversation with an IT freak who recently got married to his laptop, so don’t throw stone at me if it is inaccurate) and every computer that is connected to the great World Wide Web has the potential of getting attacked?

That burden of retailing anti-virus becomes heavier when you have really hardcore competitors in the market. I mean, do you have any idea how tough it is to fight off one particular competitor who has a life-sized Jackie Chan cut-out proudly exhibited at their booth? I keep having this unpleasant thought that every time I sell a unit of my anti-virus to someone, the Jackie cut-out with run towards the latter, kung-fu kick him in the nuts and say this in a very oriental accent, “You no buy Kas-pars-kii I kick your balls! I am Chen Long!”

And for the sake of you readers who wanted to know how arduous it was to promote and sell anti-virus software, I present to you a list of funny, ignorant and blatantly ridiculous customers that I’ve dealt with during the PC Fair.

Oh by the way, I am not the sales personnel for Kaspersky. I was selling another brand which will be remain unnamed on my blog.

1. The I-Am-Too-Cheapskate-To-Protect-My-PC kind.

Yeah, this category happened to be those who just don’t give 2 hoots about buying anti-virus. The only anti-virus they could afford was the free one where you can download it from any tom, dick and harry site. There’s this one guy who even told me, verbatim, “Aiyo who so stupid go and buy anti-virus? Those who sell anti-virus even stupid man!”

Yeah, those stupid people who wanna prevent their most personal data from being stolen, those stupid people who wanna prevent their computer from receiving unwanted attacks and those stupid people who wanna avoid unnecessary future repairs, reformatting and rebooting costs should there be a virus attack. So stupid of y’all.
2. The I-Am-A-Professional-Hacker guy.

There was this one particular guy whom I approached and promote my goods. Halfway through my speech, he interrupted by saying “I’m a professional hacker who don’t use cheap anti-virus, I do my own decoding. I have my own version of anti-virus which is more advance than any other programmes.”

Yeah, so nice of you to come down to the PC Fair and see how we commoners are toying around with obsolete and backdated computer gadgets.
3. The You-Got-No-Jackie-Chan-Or-Lee-Chong-Wei guy.

Funny story, this middle-aged man replied my promotion speech by saying, “You all don’t have Jackie Chan and Lee Chong Wei in your anti-virus, I cannot trust lah.” Woah, uncle, seriously? Have you ever seen the inside of a computer? And do you think Jackie Chan and Lee Chong Wei so free sit inside your PC help you sweep flies ah? Oh oh, maybe we can have Peter Pan and Tinkerbell to block those malwares for you instead! See, advertisements make people believe in fairytales.
4. The My-Computer-Is-Very-Old-One kind.

A couple of PC Fair goers will give the same reply, “My computer very old already lah! Won’t get attacked by virus one lah!” Yup, like the old saying right, old is gold. Maybe we should all revert to using Windows 95, then the whole world will be a cleaner and safer place to play. Pfft.
5. The I-Have-A-Lot-Anti-Virus-In-My-PC guy.

There was this guy who tried to shrug me off by telling me that he has a lot of anti-virus software installed in his computer already. Come on lah friend, want to lie also lie intelligently lah. There’s no way you can install more than one anti-virus in your computer, unless that software is not genuine. If that is the case, even 2383 copies of anti-virus in your computer will not help one less bit. I mean, you will either look like a complete paranoid or you are just plain stupid.

Well, basically these are the few ‘outstanding’ types of customers that made my 3 days 2 nights adventure in the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre so memorable. There are also a lot of other unforgettable customers like the I’ll-Come-Back-Later customers, I’ll-Walk-Around-First customers, I’ll-Ask-My-Husband customers, I’ll-Think-About-It customers and even the I-Go-Toilet-First customers. But the champion among all ludicrous customers would be, wait for it.

The-I-Come-To-PC-Fair-To-Take-Photos-Of-Hot-Models-Only-With-My-Big-Ass-Camera-And-Has-No-Intention-Of-Buying-Any-Shit customers.

The Girl With The London Scent

2011-04-22T23:59:00.001+08:00

Yes, she may not be the girl with the dragon tattoo, but heck, she is the girl with the London scent okay!

Ahhhh miss Sin, don’t keep dancing in class already okay? Have a nice flight back to the angmoh land! :)

p.s. Normal nonsensical and linguistically lame posts will resume on vincephilosophy.com once the author has enough time, inspiration and alcohol level in his blood to write. But I assure you, it will not be long. Thank you for waiting and have a nice day.

No More Justin Bieber

2011-04-20T22:55:00.000+08:00

It’s been a while since I last went for haircut. This could only mean one thing.

My hair no more Bieber liao. Dayum.

Speak Malaysian The Right Way

2011-04-18T23:59:00.000+08:00

As a proud Malaysian who was born and bred in this little potato-shaped peninsular, I can truly understand my fellow countrymen and their queer style of speaking. As the Chinese would say, we have a speech inside our speech.

You see, we are don’t really converse in a direct-in-your-face-kind-of-talk manner. We prefer to beautify our sentences, refine our choices of words and structure our conversation in such a manner that everything that comes out of our mouth isn’t exactly what our mind actually intend to convey. It can in fact be accepted that our unique style of speaking has became a national thing alongside sex scandals and people jumping off buildings.

As a slightly experienced promoter, I see this national art being practiced all the time amongst customers, supervisors and colleagues.

Now, if you are currently a promoter or has a very grand ambition of becoming one, read through the following thoroughly. It’s a list of translation that can actually help you realise your dream of becoming Malaysia’s Next Top Broadband/Fruit Juice/Sanitary Napkin Promoter. Take this as a guide to success, never mind the fact that it’s written by a boy who still lives with his mother and authors a ridiculous green blog.

Customers

What they actually say: I’ll think about it.
What they actually meant: I will not think about it. I mean come on lah, this is the stupidest product I have ever heard. No need think also know that it’s useless.

What they actually say: I’ll come back later.
What they actually meant: I will not come back later. What do I look like to you? Your dog ah? You think I so free meh? I still need to go do se-pa at the beauty salong later and then go do malicure and pelicure.

What they actually say: Do you have any sample I could try?
What they actually meant: Do you have a lot of sample that I could take home so I don’t have to buy the product from you?

What they actually say: I go discuss with my wife first.
What they actually meant: I’ve got no balls to buy this thing you’re selling coz my wife might make me sleep on the sofa if I bought it without asking her.

What they actually say: I go discuss with my husband first.
What they actually meant: Pffft, you really think I’m going to discuss with my husband first? Please lah.

What they actually say: How long will you be promoting this thing here ah?
What they actually meant: I need to know when you will be gone so I can come back here and shop again without you hassling me again.

What they actually say: Let me walk around first.
What they actually meant: Let me get the hell out of here first.

What they actually say: Got discount ah?
What they actually meant: SERIOUSLY, got discount ah?

Supervisors

What they actually say: Ahh work hard ah today.
What they actually meant: You better work until your ass fall off and get me my sales target.

What they actually say: Don’t worry; just try your best to sell.
What they actually meant: You better start worrying if you don’t sell anything.

What they actually say: Just try your best to explain to the customers.
What they actually meant: If the customer walks away without buying anything I’ll slap you.

What they actually say: Have you taken a break?
What they actually meant: You try taking a break and see? I break your nose I tell you.

What they actually say: Wow, why take such a long break ah?
What they actually meant: Potong gaji.

What they actually say: Why today sales so slow one ah?
What they actually meant: Potong gaji lagi.

What they actually say: Eh today sales not good leh, never hit target.
What they actually meant: No gaji at all for you.

What they actually say: Aiyo, why never sell anything at all?
What they actually meant: You better not let me see your face here tomorrow.

Colleagues

What they actually say: All the best to us ah today!
What they actually meant: All the best to ME only ah today!

What they actually say: Need my help?
What they actually meant: Aiyo simple thing liddat also you dunno how to do, no wonder you spend so much time writing that stupid green blog lah.

What they actually say: I go toilet for a while ah, cover up my station for me please.
What they actually meant: I’m going to take a long stroll after going to the toilet, maybe I’ll even stop by the food court to have lunch, after that I’ll go have some dessert and then maybe go toilet again only come back.

What they actually say: Wow you got more sales than me! So good!
What they actually meant: I wish you were dead.

What they actually say: Congrats man! You hit the sales target today!
What they actually meant: Why aren’t you dead already?

What they actually say: Man it sure is good to be your colleague even though you got more sales and performing so much better than me.
What they actually meant: If you still don’t die today, I have this hitman’s phone number and I won’t hesitate to call him.

Well, I guarantee, if you were to follow all my rendition above and act accordingly to each situation, you’ll be the Malaysia’s Next Top Promoter in a blink.

Just that you might not be alive anymore to enjoy that title.

One Wild Night In KLCC Park

2011-04-16T23:59:00.000+08:00

“There’s nothing more magnificent and magical than getting wasted at a park with a bunch of alcoholic friends.” – Cinderella

Yes, that bitch did say that line in her movie, listen closely.

Anyways, some few days ago, I was given the opportunity to attend a rather exclusive party at KLCC’s park. This party was so exclusive that no printed invitation was handed out, not many were invited to it and definitely not a single coverage by any major media. The only media that was given the sole rights to report on this close-lipped event is Vince of vincephilosophy.com. Otherwise known as this blog that you are currently reading.

And yes, I am the one and only official media for the event That Random Night Out At KLCC Park Because Library Was Too Crowded 2011, which is a highly exclusive party attended by only 5 lawyers-in-the-making. It was a blast. Or at least that’s what my lips, throat and stomach thought.

The night began with a visit to a renowned pub in town known as The Library.

But due some technical difficulties and miscommunication, we ended up waiting outside said pub for a good half an hour with not a single drop of liquor being downed. We were furious. We need that drink. Badly.

And with a twist of fate and some magic spells, we’ve managed to acquire a bottle of fine vodka that goes by the eponym Smirnoff. Yes, we were destined to have our alcohol that night. How can That Random Night Out At KLCC Park Because Library Was Too Crowded 2011 not have any liquor during party-time? It’s just not right.

Of course, we were very delighted with what we had on hand. You can literally see our sense of satisfaction.

A few disposable paper cups were purchased thanks to a little mystical thing called money and a little mystical store called Isetan, our party was about to rock this town, or rock this park at least.

Some of us took our last leak, for we know, our bladders will be filled with a frightfully large quantity of liquid in the later part of the night.

As much as this party was being discreet and secretive, everyone who attended it had wide smiles on our faces through out the night. That is until one of the attendees got tipsy whom shall be remain unnamed. Nobody should know who she was.

We raised a toast to each other, hopefully we can embark on our journey towards becoming a lawyer successfully. And also a toast to Rebecca Black for letting us realize how important Friday is to mankind.

We had quite some chats.

We spent some time photographing the lovely and majestic towers that our former prime minister erected in the heart of Kuala Lumpur.

We even attempted to take a poop in front of KLCC as a sign of protest to the constantly rising prices that burdens poor citizens like me. But our protester had a little constipation problem so our protest was sort of called off. Besides, the security guards kinda gave him a look that made him uncomfortable in proceeding with his ‘big business’.

All in all, in was one of those nights where it drew us closer to each other.

And also made us pretty much groggy, drowsy and super blur on the following day’s class.

I Call Your Mummy If Your Building Fall Down

2011-04-14T22:28:00.001+08:00

Ever wonder why we don’t hear of much news regarding buildings in Singapore being faced with architectural crises such as rain water leaking through their parliament, severe visible cracks in houses which are only 3 months old or even ceilings of their government’s administrative centre came crumbling down?

It’s because hor people will call the developer’s mummy and complain and then the developer will go home and get spanked by his mummy and then hor the end and thank you and bye bye.

p.s. Dad: “MOM stands for Ministry Of Manpower lah dong dong! Don’t you insult Singapore okay, for the last 10 years, the chicken rice that you ate, the funny T-shirt you wore, the ugly jeans you wore, the no name brand underwear you wore, the Hoegaarden you drank and the stupid blog you wrote, all also my money. And my money all come from where? Drop from sky ah? NOOOO! All from Singapore can! 10 years of working in Singapore enough to make me 93% Singaporean you know. So you better don’t pray pray here I tell you. Later you sure sibeh jialat one linbeh tell you.”

p.p.s. My dad has in fact been living in Singapore for the last 10 years.

p.p.p.s. My dad only said the first 7 words in the above monologue, the rest was my idea.

Y U SEX VIDEO?

2011-04-12T21:28:00.001+08:00

Malaysians are no longer strangers to sex scandals involving politicians. We were introduced to a series of sex scandals ranging from a rather unappealing sex video of an aged Chinese cabinet minister to semi-nude photos of a middle-aged female MP. Dare to be said, sex scandals are no longer a taboo subject in our beloved country. As a matter of fact, we even hold viewing premieres and screening parties for said sex scandals.

Recently, we were presented with a whole new outrage. This time, the nation was enlightened of a particular video which was alleged to involve our opposition leader and a chicken, or would professionally be known as a Chinese hooker.

Research had been conducted and it is now affirmed that said sex video is genuine and unedited. Now, further investigation will be carried out to discover other issues revolving this sex video which I am not at all interested in. There are, however, a few matters that I’m curious about regarding this video and I shall transmute my curiosity into a few questions, which I know will not get answered.

To top things off, my questions will all be in the form of Y_U_NO to portray my sense of cheekiness and show everyone how much of a jackass I can be.

And by the way, the following questions are composed purely for the sake of entertainment and do not reflect that author’s political inclination and beliefs nor serves the purpose of defaming, slandering and personally attacking another living person.

Ahem. Here goes.

SECRET VIDEO CAMERA, Y U NO LIKE ASTRO BEYOND AND SHOOT VIDEOS IN HD?

MAN IN VIDEO, Y U DRINK SO MUCH BEER AND GOT BEER BELLY?

MAN IN VIDEO, Y U NO GO GYM AND MAKE BELLY SMALL?

ANWAR, Y U NO DRINK BEER AND GET BIG BELLY LIKE MAN IN VIDEO?

CHINESE HOOKER IN VIDEO, Y U NO FACEBOOK FAN PAGE?

CHINESE HOOKER IN VIDEO, Y U NO TWITTER?

CHINESE HOOKER IN VIDEO, Y U NO READ MY BLOG?

DATUK T, Y U CHOOSE LAME NAME LIKE MR. T?

DATUK T, Y U NO CHOOSE COOL NAME LIKE VINCEPHILOSOPHY?

POLITICS, Y U LIKE BITCH?

NAJIB, Y U LIKE POLITICS?

And lastly, the million dollar question that everyone is asking, not just me.

SEX VIDEO, Y U NO SEX IN VIDEO?

Why Malaysia’s Agricultural Sector MIGHT Fail

2011-04-10T22:30:00.000+08:00

It has come to my attention that agriculture in Malaysia may not prove to be a profitable sector anymore.

Well, with all our farmers referring to Doraemon and Pokemon comic books for the latest agriculture technique, it’s only a matter of time we’ll be eating tiny helicopters and Pokeballs for dinner. God bless our sawah padi.

Grammatical Error

2011-04-08T23:59:00.000+08:00

Try spotting the mistake in the following text.

Yeah, I know right, the word ‘sure’ is missing between ‘make’ and ‘your’. Pffft, English phail.

From The Eyes Of A Sampling Promoter

2011-04-06T21:52:00.001+08:00

When they tell you that customers can be one heck of a bitch, they are not lying.

For the last 2 weekends, I was given the opportunity to be ~~an MACC witness in their tall headquarters which apparently is prone to ‘suicides’~~ a sampling promoter. Of course, the highlight of my entire experience boils down to the people whom I’ve interacted with, willingly and unwillingly. When I was out there standing as a promoter, these are the people that approached me:

1. Those that walked to me like a freaking diva to try one of the samples and immediately buy a bottle of it without hesitation. God bless their soul.
2. Those that walked to me like a freaking diva to try one of the samples and immediately walk away. God bless their soul too, should they have one.
3. The ‘eeeeee wtf are you selling’ kind. They will come to me and ask me what I’m selling in the most annoying manner. Once I’ve told them, their response will either be:

i. Oh okay, let me try one.

ii. Yeeeeeeee I don’t like fish oil.

iii. Yeeeeeee I don’t like fish oil but let me try one.

There are also some who will throw in additional redundant effects like cringing their face together like one big ball of suck, shake their heads vigorously as if they’re on ecstasy and shrug their shoulders so hard that they look like a dork without neck.

4. There’s also the very skeptical bunch of people where they’ll ask me all sort of questions and then doubt every answer that I gave. All of the sudden they’ll look like a lecturer majoring in Cod Liver Oil Research and they’ll start bombarding me with facts and theories that, I believe, they’ve created themselves just to get a free cup of cod liver oil sample and walk away without looking like a cheapskate bugger.
5. Not to mention the ‘are you absolutely definitely swear-on-your-future-grave-ly sure this is halal’ group of people. Case in point, this mak-cik who boleh speaking a bit:

Mak-cik: Is this halal?

Me: Yes ma’am, it’s halal.

Mak-cik: Are you sure?

Me: Sure, there’s a halal label here. *passes a bottle of cod liver oil to mak cik for inspection*

Mak-cik: *looks at the halal label intensively as if she’s studying for her PhD presentation* How you know this one is approved one? Maybe they just print only to make Malay people buy?

Me: Errrr, mak-cik, it’s not legal to print a halal label if the thing is not halal. It’s too risky for my company to be doing things like this; we’re after all a rather reputable organisation.

Mak-cik: Aiya, I’m not saying this product is illegal, but I just want to know how sure are you that this label is real. (Mak-cik, I hate to correct you but the accurate terminology would be ‘genuine’ and not ‘real’)

Oh so you’re actually asking for my opinion lah mak-cik? Early early say ma, then maybe I can also give you my opinion on your cat’s dietary habits at the same time. Pfffft. I guess old mak-cik was afraid that she might end up buying cod liver oil that were made from cod fish who fed on pork intestines and drank whisky on a daily basis.

6. The most popular groups of people, namely the ‘I’ll think about it, I’ll come back later’ group, the ‘I’ll ask my wife first, I’ll come back later’ group, the ‘I go for dinner first, I’ll come back later’ group, the ‘I go toilet first, I’ll come back later’ group and not to forget the ‘I’ll go home check if I still got cod liver oil or not first, I’ll come back later’. Statistics showed that 99% NEVER came back. The 1% came back to take another cup of sample.
7. There is also a small bunch of people who came to me and caused the following scenario:

Customer: Ehhh what is this ah?

Me: It’s cod liver oil ma’am/sir/in between.

Customer: Harh? What is that? Sounds so disgusting one.

Me: It’s actually like Scott’s emulsion, just that we have different flavours like orange and strawberry.

Customer: OHHHHHH Scott’s emulsionnnnnnn. Ahhhh ya lah I got at home my children drinking it thank you very much. *walks away*

Have fun drinking your disgusting emulsion thank you very much.

And there is one more unforgettable group of people who approached. Okay, it’s actually just 2 of them and I’ll remember them for as long as I live. They were 2 police officers. They came to me and asked me what I was giving out.

Officer: Ehh apa ni ah?

Me: Ini minyak ikan kod tuan. Bagus untuk kanak-kanak umur 6 bulan hingga 12 tahun.

Officer: Ohhh. Polis boleh minum ah? *HUUUHHHHH WTF???*

Me: Ah tentu boleh lah. Kalau tuan sudah minum ini kan tuan akan jadi lebih pandai, lepas tu confirm dapat cari siapa yang bikin sex video Datuk T…

Of course, I didn’t say the last sentence out. Bear in mind that they had guns and handcuffs and all I had was, well, cod liver oil.

My Experience As A Sampling Promoter

2011-04-04T22:41:00.000+08:00

It is scientifically proven that one out of ten customers that approached a promoter is a big asshole.

I’ve spent my last 2 precious weekends working as a sampling promoter in a nearby rundown mall and it was a tremendously educative experience. So much was learnt through out my employment course albeit the fact that I was paid peanuts for my services. No, it was worse than peanuts actually; I was paid peanuts’ skin.

Well, I worked as a sampling boy, distributing samples of a particular brand of cod liver oil that was relatively new in the market. In the meantime, I had to explain to consumers about this new cod liver oil I was promoting and convinced them that it was good for their kids.

This task may appear to be a breeze but it was in fact tougher than inventing the atomic bomb. There are all sorts of people that I had to deal with it and the wardens over in the Kajang Prison will find the prisoners are much easier to deal with than my customers. But more on this later.

Well, here are the little cups of cod liver oil that I had to give out. Yes, it does look like little cups of shooters that can be seen in any pubs/clubs/rich-businessman’s mistress’s house. The red one’s are Bloody Mary and the orange one’s are, well, Orange Mary.

So I had to actually stand there for 9 hours straight (1 hour break in between lah, I just wanna make it sound more dramatic) giving out the shooters, er, I meant cod liver oil.

For 9 hours, I could only stare at this stall that sells phone cover. And y’know what’s the worst part? There are NO hot chicks around to be scooped. It’s like the biggest turnoff of my job man, I nearly quit after 5 minutes of working because of this.

And as a sampling promoter, I am legally obliged to destroy the environment by disposing off used sampling cups and not recycle them. Sorry Mother Earth, consumerism is a bitch.

And I’m also legally obliged to camwhore in the toilet. LOLOL.

Now we come to the food. Being a rundown mall with not many shoppers, I can say that they’ve totally succeed in screwing up their food-court. The food sucked big time. It sucked so bad that even Gandhi couldn’t bear eating food that came from this food-court after his hunger strike. Here’s a photo of one of my meals.

Don’t be deceived by its innocent look. I swore it totally wriggled into another position just 3 seconds after I photographed it.

All in all, this is one heck of an experience. I’ve learnt one very valuable lesson in life.

When you work like an ass, it is only reasonable for you to get paid like a monkey.

I’m Nuffnang’s Featured Blogger of the Month

2011-04-02T01:09:00.001+08:00

Well, as some of you might have already know, I made it to Nuffnang’s flavour of the month.

If you must know, my flavour happens to be BBQ. A little spicy, a little salty but will mostly make you go “damn shouldn’t have eat this shit, I’m so gonna grow fat now, OMG OMG OMG.” You can taste me for yourself, maybe just a little lick or something like that. No harm no foul. But just make sure you’ve brushed your teeth twice and gargled ‘em with 22ml of antiseptic mouthwash for 47 seconds before you lick me. I happen to have sensitive skin okay?

Alright, as this is one of the highest achievements in my entire blogging career, I’ve prepared a list of dudes and dudettes that I wanted to say thank you to. Ahem, here goes.

Firstly, a big thank you to daddy for paying the electricity bills, internet bills and credit card bills. Without the electricity that you’ve provided (technically Tenaga Nasional did that service providing) and the internet that you gave (again, it’s TMNet), I will not be able to compose blog posts and upload them online. As for the credit card, I’m saying thank you on behalf of mummy.

Next, a big thank you to mummy for cooking nice meals for me every night, doing my laundries and cleaning up the house. Uhm, if you weren’t there to do it, I’ll be the one doing the chores and therefore I will not have time to blog.

Also, a big thank you to my sister for, well, being my sister.

This will be followed up by a big thank you to a very special lady, you know who you are whom I’ve written a damn classy poem for you on my blog.

A big thank you to all my readers out there, silent readers, loud readers and memory card readers. Without you guys my blog will just be like another overrated porn site where nobody gives a shit. Keep it up guys, you’ve kept me motivated. I promise, when I hit that 1000 followers cap, I’ll upload a photo of me doing a peace sign with my cheeks puffed out, one eye closed and head slightly tilted.

Not to forget a big thank you to some of my haters out there. I love you guys. In fact, I love you all so much that I just wanna screw you all, that is if you’re a chick lah. And must be hot one. Well, if you’re a guy, uhm, I don’t give a shit lah. You can go take a shit yourself or something. And no, I won’t lend you any toilet paper. Expensive lah.

I would also like to give a big thank you to the roti-canai uncle for making me such delectable roti-canais and maggi goreng whenever I visit your stall. Don’t stop those delicacies, I will literally kill myself then kill my blog should you decide to stop selling those unhealthy but sinfully delicious Indian-Muslim food and start selling herbal soup.

Last but not least, a big thank you to Nuffnang for holding me in such high regards, Viva la Nuffnang! *gives all the nuffies a big hug although I am very very small in size, like seriously, I’m so short that they created the word ‘dwarf’ after me*

And of course, thank you to Confucius for saying all those nice things about me on Nuffnang’s page. You really shouldn’t have, old chap.

He Say She Say

2011-03-29T00:35:00.000+08:00

I’ve discovered that guys and girls actually speak different language after being a guy for quite a while now and spending most of my time with girls around. Okay, that didn’t come out right.

But it is in fact true; man and woman figuratively don’t speak the same language. Both genders may be speaking in English to each other, but in reality the so-called English that they are using to communicate with each other is very distinct in terms of the uses of vocabulary, nouns, adjective, tenses, conjunctions and whatever linguistic jargon you can possibly think of. Don’t understand what I’m trying to say? Me neither.

Anyhoos, here are some illustrations to substantiate my hypothesis. Do note that my theory only involves stereotypical man and woman and all thesis are put forward are based on observation made on a set of ‘everyday joes and janes’. Any objections may be forwarded to my assistant researcher but there are no guarantees that you will be heard. My assistant researcher may not comprehend your objections as it lives in a cage labeled ‘orang utan’.

Scenario: Asking someone to hand over a handbag.

How will a girl say it: Hey dear! Do you mind passing me that Louis Vuitton bag over there? Yes, the one which is maroon in colour with two slanted zippers by the side and leather straps. Yes, it’s a 2010 limited edition by the way.

How will a guy say it: Hey, pass me that handbag. Neh, that one. *points*

Scenario: Telling a friend about a modified car.

How will a guy say it: Dude, check out that ride man. Did you see the rims? I swear it’s an 18 inch alloy. And did you see the spoiler on it? That thing ain’t cheap man. And my goodness, 4 pipes man, it’s gonna sound like a plane! And I think he just installed a new Blaupunkt woofer, fooooyoh, the bass solid I tell you. Wonder which brand of amp is he using?

How will a girl say it: Eww, ugly car.

Scenario: Apologizing to a partner for not being able to attend a date.

How will a girl say it: Hey honeybunch, I’m really really sorry but I can’t make it to the movies with you tonight. So so so sorry but we’ve got this huge project on hand and nobody can leave until it’s done. But you know what, Imma make it up to you by packing your favourite luncheon meat sandwich and bringing it to your office for you tomorrow. Aww man, miss you so much. Can’t believe you have to be all alone tonight. Sorry babysmoothiepie. Huggies!

How will a guy say it: Sori, got OT cnt make it 2nite.

Scenario: Discussing about last night’s UEFA Champions League match.

How will a guy say it: Woah, Bayern totally pulled it off last night, come on lah, Robben was obviously offside man. Wonder what the linesman was doing, playing with his flag or something. And I felt sorry for Milan man, Pato got injured like just after 20 minutes of play and Robinho got sent off after 25 minutes. They were in a super critical striking crisis I tell you, feel so sorry for them. And don’t even get me started on Man U, it’s about time old man Fergie retire lah, together with Giggs and Scholes. But Chelsea’s looking really good, starting to get back on form and my God, David Luiz is gonna be legend man, sooner or later Torres gonna break his duck and also get on the legend’s list. It’s gonna be the Blue’s year.

How will a girl say it: You know, my stupid boyfriend lied to me and say he had OT but he actually went and watch the You-Fa match at the mamak stall last night. Jerk.

Scenario: Bitching about an unpleasant colleague after work.

How will a girl say it: Oh my God, that Lucy was so mean just now. You see, Anita was like talking to the client just now and she sort of lost her words. And Lucy just went over there, pushed Anita away and totally snatched the client away from Anita. And you know what the worse part is? She even told the client that Anita was a ‘little slow’ and went on talking bad stuff about Anita. And did you see how she look at Anita with the side of her eyes. What a bitch. Like oh my God? How could she even say things like that? I even saw Anita crying in the washroom just now. Oh my God.

How will a guy say it: Dude, that Lucy is one big asshole man. Wanna go grab a beer?

Scenario: Responding to a dirty joke made by some stranger at a party.

How will a guy say it: Hahahahaha good one dude! High 5! Come over here man, I’ll buy you beer. Hey hey I’ve got one joke too, now listen close. Two lesbians walked into a sports bar…

How will a girl say it: Yer, pervert. *walks away*

Scenario: Talking to a friend about a girl who just got plastic surgery.

How will a girl say it: Hey did you know that Candy just got a boob-job recently? I was like eww, so freaking big lah. Too big for her already, you know how small size is she lah, now she looked a camel with her humps in front. And someone told me she actually got her nose done some time back. Like OMG right? I always knew there was something wrong with her nose, it’s so, how do I say it, plasticky? And her eyes, she actually has single eye-lid one! And this one I’m not sure lah, but I heard from someone that she even got botox! Ewww super fake lah she!

How will a guy say it: Dude, Candy’s one hot chick wei!

Scenario: When Justin Bieber comes to town for a concert.

How will a girl say it: Oh my friggin God! I. Am. So. Going! Imma go there and cry out his name so loud that I’ll go mute after that! I’m so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so excited!

How will a guy say it: Gay.

And here you go, ladies and gentlemen, my theory on how men are from Mars and women are from Pluto or something.

p.s. This post is not made to slander, discriminate or defame any gender. It is written in the name of humour and serves the sole purpose of entertaining. The author doesn’t hold any personal responsibilities for any injuries, loss or mental distress suffered by any parties who had in any way read, came contact with or heard about this article. Therefore, this ends my exclusion clause. Lawyered.

Pussee

2011-03-26T20:33:00.000+08:00

I’d be an ass if I don’t share this.

Yeap, I have to admit, this ‘pussee’ thing sure looks fun to me.

Meeting And Dining With Super Famous Bloggers

2011-03-23T00:47:00.003+08:00

Once upon a time on a lovely Saturday evening approximately 4 days ago, I had the honour of dining with a group of bloggers in Frames Cafe, Sunway Pyramid courtesy of Nuffnang. Yes, the highly anticipated Nuffnang Sharing Session that most Nuffnangers would sell one of their kidneys or eyeballs to get an invitation to.

Yes, it was one of the best blogger’s dinner I’ve ever attended, not withstanding the fact that every blogger’s dinner is awesome. But this one, particularly was awesomer than awesome. We had food. We had bloggers. We had cameras. We had fun. And did I mention we had food?

Right, this post might be the 65475th post about the sharing session you might come across. Therefore, I shall not bore you with snapshots of food which were artistically photographed. All I can say is, the food served was really satisfying that night and let’s just say it hit the right spot in my stomach.

So instead, I shall throw you a couple of photographs that features yours truly in his ever awesomeness and adorableness. And of course, a couple of other non-food related photos too.

Firstly, this is a photo of those who had made this sharing session possible. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the nuffies!

Next up, let me give you a photo of Boss Tim initially doing a spot-check session on our table. And then he was obliged to turn around and look into the camera because our big cameraman uncle TikkoSS forced Tim to turn and threatened to spike Tim’s drink, poison his dinner and draw fake moustache on him if he didn’t turn around and look into the camera. Alright, I may have exaggerated a little and added a little twist to the whole scenario.

But hey, people love tabloids, don’t they?

Next up, more tabloids! TikkoSS in a scandalous position with Isaac! Are they an item? Are they seeing each other? Are they together? How long have this went on? How did they started? Where did they meet each other? Does Issac’s wife knows about it? Is TikkoSS’s mother aware of this? ~~Does Jessy has any knowledge about this affair?~~

Gasp! NOBODY KNOWS!

But nah, that’s not the point of the whole story. It suppose to be about me. So ya, let’s get back to me. Focus.

Alright, before we proceed, I would like to send out a word of cautious to those who plan to read on. It contains narcissistically shot photographs which are flooded with great intensity of awesomeness and adorableness. Now, proceed with care.

First up, Mabel and I! We sure look cute huh?

Now with Xinxian, one of the Nuffies whom I’ve taken a couple of photos with on several occasions but still not tired of it. Heh, hope Xinxian’s not tired of it too. Oh, ignore my eyes, stupid contact lenses suddenly busted me in my cornea.

With another super awesome Nuffy, Michelle. Yes, as stunning as always. And oh, speaking of which, she brought me some really good news today but I’m not gonna divulge it just right now. Follow my blog closely and you shall find out what the good news exactly is. *Winking in the utmost kawaii fashion I could possibly manage*

With the super fehmes Cheesie. Well, once more, we sure look cute huh? Say yes so I don’t have to slit my wrist and die a depressing death.

And of course, how could I not forget, my newest famous friend, TeyCindy! She was sitting in front of me during the dinner *blush*, kept teaching us how to be a good blogger *blush somemore*, joke and fool around like a freaking comedian *blush until cannot blush already*. Gosh, this lady is just awesome. No no, she’s beyond awesome; she’s legendary!

And ya, lucky I’m taller than her, or else sure damn paiseh one.

I swear, I so did not tip-toed and Cindy did not crouch down.

And last but not least, drum rolls please. With Xiaxue! Yes, yell and scream! Jump and smash your computer screen! Go berserk! Ki siao! You’ve got me right, it Xia friggin Xue!

Alright, I may look like I don’t give two hoots in the photo, but deep inside, I’m like jumping and stretching my face like a hysterical girl who just got a strand of Justin Bieber’s hair. Or pubes. Or whatever he sheds.

Well, there’s still a lot of photos that I would like to share with y’all, but hey, you really don’t wanna keep seeing my face. It is scientifically proven that looking at my face too much will lead to insomnia, nauseation and severe mental distress. True story. I’m saving your life and you’re welcome.

All in all, a big thank you to Nuffnang! For the 2 complimentary movie passes.

A lovely name tag.

A lovely pin-badge.

And an unforgettable night with so many awesome bloggers! Hmm, that sounds a little suggestive. Oh well.

p.s. A personal thank you to TikkoSS for all the above photos. You deserve it, ‘ol chap. :)

I Finally Touched This Beauty!

2011-03-15T00:37:00.000+08:00

Yes, I finally touched her. I finally smelled her. I finally felt her. Yes, her smooth and shiny surface, her curves, her, beauty, her sexiness, her lubricity. She was the gem in everyone’s heart. Everyone was passionate about her. Everyone wanted her. Men literally fought to keep her. Ah, the attractive force of the UEFA Champions League trophy.

Boy, you weren’t thinking of something else, are you?

Anyways, upon learning that the Champions League trophy was coming to town, I knew right there and then that I must see this little baby. And there I was, last Friday, in Pavilion KL, with the cup right in front of me. The feeling was orgasmic, true story.

The Champions League is the cream of all professional football competition. You know, it’s something like the abalone among all seafood, the diamond among all jewelry, the Dolly Parton among all girls with big-boobs, the Brad Pitt among all hunks, the Justin Bieber among all talented little singing girls. Get what I’m saying?

Of course, only half of the world’s most talented and celebrated footballer had touched this cup. I will be an ass if I did not have my own experience with this cup.

As much as it hurts me to say this, but I actually touched the Champions League before my club does. Sobs. But it’s okay, this year’s our year. The cup will be heading to the Bridge. Go you Blues.

Besides having the trophy on display, a wide range of UEFA Champions League memorabilia was there as well to feast the eyes of visiting football enthusiasts, for instance, mua.

Do note that the trophy and the following memorabilia are genuine and authentic; not cheap imitated Petaling Street goods.

There’s Javier Zanetti’s jersey, the captain of Inter Milan.

Here’s a pair of boots that was once of Gunner’s skipper’s Fabregas foot; now in a displaying crystal case.

~~Xavi’s balls.~~ A collector’s match ball signed by Barca’s puny midfielder Xavi.

A pair of gloves that belonged to Iker Casillas, the penjaga tiang of Madrid Betul.

AS Roma’s skipper, Francesco Totti’s boots and captain armband.

Ah, this ball legendary lor. Signed by the king of head-butting, Zinedine Zidane. By far the most entertaining footballer I’ve ever seen. And I’m not even talking about his footballing skills.

A memorabilia ball signed by former Real Madrid captain cum legend, Raul Gonzalez who now plays at Schalke FC.

Handsome boy Kaka’s boots. Where he had worn it during the Champions League final in 2007 against Liverpool at Istanbul. Fun fact, his then team AC Milan was leading by 3-0. In the second half, it was as if Liverpool was on drugs or Milan’s drug had ran out, Liverpool managed to par the score and made it 3-3 within a few minutes.

They went on to the penalty kick where Milan lost 3-2 in the kick. And the trophy went home with Liverpool. And the then Milan manger Ancelloti claimed to smash his television every time he watches the match replay, God knows how many telly had he smashed. And Kaka went on to sign for Real Madrid. And everyone lived happily ever after.

David Beckham’s jersey when he was on loan in AC Milan. Well, no comment about him. He was once a footballer, but not anymore. He is now a soccer player. Different thing, so you have to be clear about it.

Real Madrid’s ball. Yeah, apparently they only have one ball on display.

The ever popular Ronaldo’s Devil jersey. Pretty boy, no comment for him as well.

Ah, the jersey that belonged to the current football maestro, Lionel Messi. Speaking of Messi, there’s something about him and me. Both of us share this particular similarity ie. we’re short but we’re awesome xoxoxoxox.

Here we have more balls on display.

Referees. Whom everyone hated. Just like school principals.

And this my friend, was the Champions League trophy before it underwent a plastic surgery. Gosh, that surgery sure did wonder I’d say.

Well, a BIG thank you to Heineken for bringing this beauty to Malaysia!

And a big thank you to the pretty jie jie who took this polaroid picture for me. Heh.

To Cock Or Not To Cock

2011-03-07T21:51:00.000+08:00

When you are the owner of trophies for poetry recital,

Story-telling,

Spelling bees,

Public speaking,

And public speaking,

Or even public speaking,

It could only mean one thing,

You are one big cock-talker with an impeccable talent in talking cock. Just like any other successful politician in Malaysia. Kay thanks bye.

P.s. If the cock that you talk induces people to say the word ‘lame’ aloud or silently, you are already on your way to become the next prime minister of the country. One cock one nation. Peace.

Advice For You Bloggers, From Daddy Vince

2011-03-01T21:33:00.000+08:00

Well, remember in my previous post where I took on the role of being one of the pioneer male advice columnist? Just say you remember so I don’t have to feel so paiseh.

Well, as promised, here are my advice for you bloggers who is facing some real troubles in life that has caused all of you severe mental distress, distraught and disturbance. Don’t worry, just listen to ol’ Daddy Vince and thou shalt be release from any mental anguish.

The following questions are put forward by fellow bloggers and no questions have been fabricated or altered in any way whatsoever.

Booyah.

Dear Vince, Recently I'm in dilemma, I have RM1million and I don't know which car I should buy. Should I buy 50 kancils so that my maids can use or only a Ferrari because I like to drive fast? If I buy a Ferrari, my maids has no car then. Please advise. - Car enthusiast

Dear Car enthusiast, dammit man! It’s called DADDY Vince. Gee, I wonder how can you not know my title. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince (still don't know why you wanna be OLD)?
Many said gay is by influence and only small percentage by genetic. There are too many illegal male immigrants around my neighborhood that tend to hold hands when they walk and i suspected that they even tend to hold some other parts too. Should I join the crowd or invest in ur sister for better assurance? I still fart very loud if you know what i mean – Confuse, really confuse??

Dear Confuse, really confuse??, it’s very common for a man to hold another man’s hands and publicly displaying it in Malaysia. Even holding some other body parts of another man is also accepted in some cultures. All in all, it’s a very Malaysian thing. Don’t be afraid to go down deep and find your true self. If you know what I mean. As Eminem once said, but if we can hump dead animals and antelopes then there's no reason that a man and another man can't elope. Love and kisses. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I have a mid term test every week and my finals will be in less than 2 months. I used public transport to college everyday and I don't have enough sleep. I found myself very tired and can't focus in class. And my friend keep asking me to skip classes and go out, just because I can drive them with my car. Lecturers are used to my attitude, they don't even try to wake me up when I am sleeping in class. So, Daddy Vince, would you mind give me the number of the 18 years old girl who looks a little like Linda Chung? – Song

Dear Song, kindly deposit RM500 into my secret Maybank account and then I’ll give you half of her phone number. You’ll have to find out the other half yourself since you have about 2 months of free time. – Daddy Vince

Dear daddy vince, xD i've met a boy who can't let go. and everytime I reject him, he will emo want die to me XD i scare one day he really die like Alviss Kong. what should I do? :D – Girl with pink socks. XD

Dear Girl with pink socks. XD, it’s actually a pretty good thing if he dies, just like Alviss K.O.ng. Picture all the free traffics you will potentially receive on your blog when dumb dumb over there jumps of a building. You only have to make sure that guy has a Facebook account. You are on your way to stardom missy! Congrats! – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddu Vince, how to bang chicks? :P *evil laughs* I bet Daddy would recommend me some steps to achieve my goals. :D – Sonnykazu

Dear Sonnykazy, hmph! How do you like it when I misspell your name, huh? – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, does that girl really look like Linda Chung? – Qi Wen

Dear Qi Wen, well, the proper construction of your question should be “does Linda Chung look like that girl?” Answer, yes. – Daddy Vince

Dear daddy Vince, I want boyfriend la how ? :/ – Shuwen

Dear Shuwen, I can’t help you on that. But I do have this girl’s phone number… – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I have an 18 year old girlfriend who looks like Linda Chung and since she's pretty, many guys are after her. One of them is a blogger! How can I prevent the blogger from getting her number? - Anti-blogger

Dear Anti-blogger, dawg, you gotta let loose man! You can’t be constantly tying your girlfriend to you, that’s as good as servitude! Shame on you man! You call yourself a boyfriend? Hmph! That blogger dude is what she deserves. I heard that he is chivalrous, compassionate and some say he is good-looking. Do note that I have no associations with him whatsoever and I’m speaking from a totally impartial and unbias position. I just heard about him. From er, somewhere. – Daddy Vince

Oh my goodness. I’m so good at being Daddy Vince. I’m awesome. True story.

Any more questions?

p.s. Don’t take the above advice too seriously as the aftermath from following it may not be as ideal as one might thought.

When This Blogger Becomes An Advice Columnist

2011-02-26T00:10:00.000+08:00

Have you ever noticed advice columnists in newspapers or magazines are usually females? You know, the kind of columnists who tell people what should they do if they found out that their boyfriends/husbands/fathers are cheating with their pet hamsters.

For one, I really don’t understand why anybody would write in their problems to some utter stranger who has no slightest relationship with them. The columnist doesn’t even know who you are and there you are divulging your deepest, dirtiest and most personal problems to them. Well, some might rebut that it’s one way to maintain their anonymity and prevent their money from unnecessarily entering random psychologists’ bank account. Fine with me.

But you see, it’s rather troublesome. You have to actually write your entire problem, mail it to the newspaper or magazine, wait for God knows how long just to get an advice to your problems. And even that, the columnist might not select your question because it’s not scandalous or sensational enough to intrigue readers or you have relatively illegible handwriting. Isn’t that a big waste of time? Just to get 2 paragraphs of advice that might not even be essential in reality?

I have a better solution for all of you. For you guys who really need to get a piece of advice on certain problems you encounter, just write to me! So far, I have not seen any male advice columnists. There I was thinking, why I not I be the first? Besides, I will answer every question regardless how ridiculous, boring or pathetic it may be. Besides, you don’t have to wait ages for my advice!

Here are a few questions that I’ve answered voluntarily to show you how good I can be at this. ‘Voluntarily’ because nobody actually asked me for the advice and I was just being a busybody. But that’s another story.

Oh oh! And should I be an advice columnist, I’ll call myself Daddy Vince. You know, I’m like the father you will come to for advice when you need one. And no, you are not getting any pocket money from me young lady.

Here goes:

Dear Daddy Vince, I have a friend who is 16 years old this year. Due to her obsession over Victoria Beckham, she picked up the habit of throwing up after every meal, what should I do to help her? - Good Friend

Dear Good Friend, before you do anything, just give your friend two tight slaps for liking Victoria Beckham. She needs to be reminded that Posh is so yesteryear and slaps will do the job. On the throwing up part, just lock the toilet doors, will ya? – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, my boyfriend promised to bring me out to dinner for my birthday and I was very excited about it. On my birthday, he stood me up because he had to stay home and watch Chelsea vs Liverpool. He said that it was a very important football match and as a staunch Liverpool supporter, he MUST watch that match. Should I break up with him for choosing football over me? - Heartbroken

Dear Heartbroken, My. Goodness. Supporting Liverpool? Pffft, he has really bad taste for football. Obviously, Liverpool got lucky in that match and Meireles’ goal was no more than a fluke. Give Torres some time to settle in, I bet he’ll be so much better than he was with the Reds. Should you break up with him for being a Liverpool fan? Yes, you should. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I’m a 23 years old plain girl compared to my baby sister. She is only 18 this year but she is very gorgeous. She looks a little like Linda Chung and everywhere she goes, guys tend to go gaga over her. That’s not it, every time I go out with her, guys tend to pay more attention to her and I feel really neglected. People don’t care about me as long as my baby sister is within my vicinity. I’m sick being the ugly duckling! What should I do? – Plain Ugly

Dear Plain Ugly, can I have your sister’s phone number? Would like to ask her out on a date. Thanks. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I caught my brother secretly drinking my father’s Jack Daniels one afternoon. And when I approached him, he told me that it was a school science project that requires him to taste the liquor and write a report on it. Should I tell my father? – Contemplating

Dear Contemplating, come on, when a boy tells you it’s a science project, it’s a science project. We guys don’t lie. We hate lying. We will never lie in our entire life. What are you going to tell your father? That your brother wanted to work a little harder and score that A? You’re a disappointment, Contemplating! – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, my wife complained that I’m a slob. She is constantly nagging every time I leave my socks, shirt or underwear on the floor/bed/sofa/kitchen. She even threatened to kick me out of the house if I don’t clean up my mess. Should I give in to her? – Should I

Dear Should I, you are the man of the house. You tell your woman what to do. Not the other way. If you choose to leave you’re sweaty, sticky and soiled underwear on the dining table, just leave it there. Be a man, do the right thing! If she does kick you out of the house, crash into one of your bro’s place. It’s a blessing in disguise. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I have a girlfriend who is very suspicious. Every time I talk on the phone, she’ll try her best to eavesdrop. After that, she’ll ask me who I spoke to. If I was on the phone with another girl, she’ll question me as if I was cheating on her. We always end up having a big fight because of her suspicion. What should I do so she will trust me? - Faithful

Dear Faithful, dude, goddamn break up with her, will ya? I just got this phone number of a hot 18 years old chick who looks like Linda Chung. She has a sister who is 23. Since the younger one has the Linda Chung looks, I bet the older one will look like freaking Gong Li! You can have the 23 years old lady as I’m going for the 18 years old one. No need to thank me. – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I think I’m a really bad girlfriend. I’ve been with this guy for almost half a year. He treats me really nicely and I’ve never felt happier than being with him. The problem is, I’ve been cheating on him. Not once, not twice but 7 times. I tend to fall for flings and will end up sleeping with them. It’s nothing serious though, we will usually go our own ways after one night of fun. I’m badly overwhelmed with guilt. Should I confess to my wonderful boyfriend? – Bad Girl

Dear Bad Girl, we need to meet up and discuss your problem. Preferably in a pub. How about this Saturday night? – Daddy Vince

Dear Daddy Vince, I can’t stop spending money on trading cards. Over the years, I’ve been collecting thousands of dollars worth of Pokemon cards. And the buying just never stops. What should I do? – Card Addict

Dear Geek, your question will be duly forwarded to Professor Oak, next time, DON’T EVEN BOTHER WRITING TO ME. – Daddy Vince

Am I good at this or what? I’m so gonna be an advice columnist I tell you! Submit your questions in the comment box and I’ll answer everything. I’m so in it!

Why Asians Love To Sleep

2011-02-21T23:23:00.003+08:00

Not frightfully long ago, I stumbled upon a website that features a whole collection of photos of sleeping Asians. And no, it’s not a porn site.

Yup , I have no foggiest clue on why Google would associate the word ‘Asian’ with nude oriental chicks in compromising positions. Don’t believe me? Try running a search with the keyword ‘Asian’ on Google Image. See it to believe it.

Well, as an authentic Asian (I’m not quite convinced that I have any ancestral angmoh blood in me), I can firmly establish the fact that – we love to sleep. Yes, we sleep in the morning during school/work hour, we sleep in the afternoon during lunch breaks, we sleep when we get back to school/work after lunch breaks, we sleep during tea-time, we sleep when we sleep when we get back to school/work after tea-time, we sleep whilst travelling home after school/work, we sleep in the showers once we get home, we sleep during dinner, we sleep after dinner. And of course, we sleep at night.

Angmohs, if you were to ask any Asians that walk pass you, try asking them what their favourite pastime is. I vouch on Justin Bieber’s imaginary chest hair that 95% of the answer will inevitably be ‘sleeping’.

How about a little history lesson on this extraordinary thingy called sleep.

Since the dawn of mankind in the eastern hemisphere of the globe, we oriental people had been worshippers of this mystical biological activity called sleep. We adored sleep so much that we een created a religion for it. Yup, the sacred faith of snoozzzzzzzzism was in practice for centuries. This majestic religion is created by a great Asian man with the moniker Grandpa Chow (otherwise known as Chow Gong amongst Asians). In fact, I’m an ardent follower of this religious institution and I’m called a snoozzist.

You see, what’s the difference between the white people and the Asians when it comes to sleeping? Very simple. When we Asians tell others we are going to sleep, we literally go to sleep. But when the Westerners say they are going to sleep, they actually meant that they are going to a bar, pick up some chicks, flirt with her and then have sex. So be very careful when you are discussing about sleep with others, make sure there’s a clear distinction or declaration so people will know if you are talking about the Asians sleep or the Angmoh’s sleep.

So, here are some reasons why we Asians love to sleep in comparison with the angmohs. As in the close eyes, snore and have nonsensical dreams kind of sleep. Note that this list is solely for the white people to read and learn more about the Asians.

1. Our black hair releases a kind of hormone and it will induce fatigue. Due to the differences in biological structures between the Asians and the Latinos, the latter does not release any of the said fatigue-inducing hormones.
2. Our yellow skin absorbs a special ray from the sunlight and that particular ray will paralyze our eyelids, forcing us to keep our eyes shut.
3. Our depressed height makes it hard for us to fight for oxygen with the tall and gigantic angmohs, therefore, causing rapid drowsiness due to the lack of oxygen.
4. Our slanted eyes makes our vision fuzzy if we kept it open for 7 consecutive seconds and this cannot be corrected, thus, we will have to close our eyes for 10 minutes after every 7 seconds of opening.

Last but not least,

5. Our superbrains are catered for doing insanely difficult mathematics question, invent obscenely high-end technological gadgets and compose ridiculously awesome blog posts. By necessity, we need more sleep than the westerners so our brains can function with the highest efficiency possible.

You are either one big dumbass or not an Asian if you truly believe in every single words scripted above.