Higher Standards
So my friend thinks she can do better with guys cos Singapore men cannot make it. I say my lan jiao as big as ang moh one but she don't think so.
I also think I can do better leh. All the girls here only want my money but don't want my honey. And my honey already gonna overflow liao. And they're all so goondu like that. I told my friend. If I go out with a girl, I need to have intelligent conversation one. If not, I feel like I'm not intellectually engaged. Like why can't it be like:
Girlfriend: Hey honey, I wonder if Michelin's tyres for the Yamaha team in the next GP at Le Mans will hold up.. you know they're using a new rubber compound that will increase Valentino Rossi's grip on the track so he can brake later and turn faster and therefore outperform Casey Stoner's more powerful Ducati Desmosedici even though the Desmo has higher horsepower and better acceleration.
Me: Of course they will, baby.. its the new synthetic latex/polymer compound that Michelin recently developed after Rossi ran into problems with tyre pressure at the Turkish GP. If you recall, even though his tyres were reinforced with internal steel filament then, the extreme angles at which his tyres have to perform, coupled with the high temperatures caused by the stresses that the tyre goes through caused the rubber compound to fail, thus costing him the leading position. The polymer component in his tyres should allow them to withstand higher stresses this time round. However, I have to qualify that tyre compounds only account for half the braking ability of any one rider. The specific heat capacity of the brake pads play an important role too.
Girlfriend: Oh you're always right about these cool engineering thingies, dear... Anyway, I've been a bad girl today. Can we have some kinky sex?
Me: Oh alright.
Is that too much to ask?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Tiger Hit The Ball So High. Kaninabechaocheebye.
So I started learning golf. P thinks golf is for ah kuas. Say I fucking faggot. Somemore suan me say better remember to bring my wet wipes. Fuck you understand?
Thank God for wind. All kinds.
Anyway, last weekend I go to the golf course for the first time with A. He said bring my golf teacher along so that he can teach me how to play in the course. So anyway I thought the course was like those US PGA Tour one. Like the grass is damn green, the ponds are calm, the wind blowing in your hair, lots of girls in bikinis and visors to cheer you on.
Of course when we arrived, the place looked more like last time go live firing exercise like that. The grass is really like sai like that la. And then along the sides of the fairway there's like JUNGLE. I kid you not. The water is very literally a swamp (there was a guy wading around inside looking for lost golf balls to sell). And the best thing is, there is a TRAINING SHED where you can rest. AND beside the training shed, there is an auntie selling drinks, Ritz biscuits and, get this... OREOS. I found myself instinctively hoping that my instructor would declare a five minute canteen break so that I could go get myself a Coke before starting to dig my shell-scrape. The ang mohs there are all fat and ugly. And to top it all off, the caddies were all MEN.
"Contacted!" - I flush out an ugly ang moh from the jungle.
Anyway, the game was a joke. That same morning I went to the driving range first to brush up on my swing and my instructor brings me to the putting green for the very first time saying that I should try a few shots since I'm going to the course later after all and have never used a putter in my life. Oh ya hor.
At the 'course', each time I hit the ball badly, my instructor produces another ball from his pocket and tells me to take the shot again. And then when I finally get to the green, it's like playing yoyo with the hole. Can hit like ten times and the ball just goes back and forth around the hole. Until the last time when the ball is like reasonably close to the hole and my caddy bends down and tips it in so that we can FINALLY. MOVE. THE. FUCK. ON.
"Be wewy wewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits."
Anyway, I think I give myself A for effort, A+ for style. For me, style is cannot compromise one:
I am Tiger. Hear me roar.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I Like Transforming Robots
So the basic rule in the genre of Gigantic Transforming Robot Cartoons is that the bad guy robots always look cooler than the good guys one. For example, in Transformers, Optimus Prime is what? A truck? Truck is use for what? Transport cow dung ah? And somemore he forever so goody goody. Lousy lah. Megatron so much more cool. Can become gun. And then can become big become small. Just like my one like that. Or Starscream. Can become fighterplane. So badass. Who wants to be a truck? Truck is only good for fetch ah beng to go and piah zui can?
Anyway, enter the 1/60 scale Yamato Toys Macross Sukhoi/Israel Aircraft Industries/Dornier SV-51 piloted by Nora Polyansky of the evil "Anti-UN" forces (how much more "bad" can you get right?) pictured below. Cool right? And everything about it just screams "Bad Guy" and it's sexy even (I mean it's even painted BLACK man). Somemore the pilot is like one damn sexy RUSSIAN GIRL WITH BIG TITS lor. Last time I go Orchard Towers I remember if you want to find Russian one its like three times the price of those China one and then they only sit there and sing karaoke with you ok. If wanna ta pao some more must pay extra one.
But I digress. The 1/60 scale model of the SV-51 can even transform without having to take any parts apart. Just like in the cartoon like that.
I'm gonna buy like ten when it comes out.
Then must buy the Good Guy robot for it to fight against. Hope I get big bonus man.
So the basic rule in the genre of Gigantic Transforming Robot Cartoons is that the bad guy robots always look cooler than the good guys one. For example, in Transformers, Optimus Prime is what? A truck? Truck is use for what? Transport cow dung ah? And somemore he forever so goody goody. Lousy lah. Megatron so much more cool. Can become gun. And then can become big become small. Just like my one like that. Or Starscream. Can become fighterplane. So badass. Who wants to be a truck? Truck is only good for fetch ah beng to go and piah zui can?
Anyway, enter the 1/60 scale Yamato Toys Macross Sukhoi/Israel Aircraft Industries/Dornier SV-51 piloted by Nora Polyansky of the evil "Anti-UN" forces (how much more "bad" can you get right?) pictured below. Cool right? And everything about it just screams "Bad Guy" and it's sexy even (I mean it's even painted BLACK man). Somemore the pilot is like one damn sexy RUSSIAN GIRL WITH BIG TITS lor. Last time I go Orchard Towers I remember if you want to find Russian one its like three times the price of those China one and then they only sit there and sing karaoke with you ok. If wanna ta pao some more must pay extra one.
But I digress. The 1/60 scale model of the SV-51 can even transform without having to take any parts apart. Just like in the cartoon like that.
I'm gonna buy like ten when it comes out.
Then must buy the Good Guy robot for it to fight against. Hope I get big bonus man.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
The Banjir's Gonna Get You
Banjir, of course, being Indonesian for flood. Since last Saturday, many parts of Jakarta have been flooded. In some places the water has been four metres deep.
Four frikkin' metres! I mean wah lan eh. There is like poor city management but this is seriously fucked up lor. And of course everyone is blaming everyone else. The governor's saying the neighbouring province cut down too many trees to build yuppy malls so the ground can't retain the water. And then the media is fucking the governor for letting this happen again since there were damn bad floods in 2002. And then yesterday on the news there were these university students who had nothing better to do and decided to protest the floods. As if it would help make it go away.
And then in order to relieve the flooding in other parts of Jakarta, they decided to open these sluice gates so that my area gets flooded. Wah lan eh. So on Sunday the water level on the road outside my apartments was like up to waist level. Shiok man. Luckily my apartment compound has a backdoor which wasn't flooded. "Luckily" because when everyone was getting all flustered and scrambling o buy supplies for their homes in case they got flooded in, all I got was a carton of milk, some salad, a new loaf of bread and some orange juice. I did however remember to buy a couple of pirated games for my Xbox 360 in case I got flooded in and had nothing to do.
Of course when things cock up, they must all cock up together. So my internet was down cos of the floods and so were the telephone lines, and then the hard disk in my office-issued laptop decided to develop a terminal error (luckily I transfered all my porn into my ipod at the first sign of trouble in case the office computer guys decide to be helpful and try to recover my data) and then my office computer decided to go screwy too so I was totally uncontactable for a few days which was not too bad actually.
But I think by far the best quote was from my friend who called me from Singapore and told me, in all seriousness, to beware of the "pestilence" that usually comes after floods "because the hygiene very jiat lat".
If I remember correctly, after pestilence comes the big death ray from the sky that kills all these pagan non-believers and some grungy dude with a 'fro keeps saying "let my people go!".
Banjir, of course, being Indonesian for flood. Since last Saturday, many parts of Jakarta have been flooded. In some places the water has been four metres deep.
Four frikkin' metres! I mean wah lan eh. There is like poor city management but this is seriously fucked up lor. And of course everyone is blaming everyone else. The governor's saying the neighbouring province cut down too many trees to build yuppy malls so the ground can't retain the water. And then the media is fucking the governor for letting this happen again since there were damn bad floods in 2002. And then yesterday on the news there were these university students who had nothing better to do and decided to protest the floods. As if it would help make it go away.
And then in order to relieve the flooding in other parts of Jakarta, they decided to open these sluice gates so that my area gets flooded. Wah lan eh. So on Sunday the water level on the road outside my apartments was like up to waist level. Shiok man. Luckily my apartment compound has a backdoor which wasn't flooded. "Luckily" because when everyone was getting all flustered and scrambling o buy supplies for their homes in case they got flooded in, all I got was a carton of milk, some salad, a new loaf of bread and some orange juice. I did however remember to buy a couple of pirated games for my Xbox 360 in case I got flooded in and had nothing to do.
Of course when things cock up, they must all cock up together. So my internet was down cos of the floods and so were the telephone lines, and then the hard disk in my office-issued laptop decided to develop a terminal error (luckily I transfered all my porn into my ipod at the first sign of trouble in case the office computer guys decide to be helpful and try to recover my data) and then my office computer decided to go screwy too so I was totally uncontactable for a few days which was not too bad actually.
But I think by far the best quote was from my friend who called me from Singapore and told me, in all seriousness, to beware of the "pestilence" that usually comes after floods "because the hygiene very jiat lat".
If I remember correctly, after pestilence comes the big death ray from the sky that kills all these pagan non-believers and some grungy dude with a 'fro keeps saying "let my people go!".
Monday, January 29, 2007
I Find Out How I Die
According to this:
"At age 81 you will start playing an online game and become so addicted that you starve to death."
Which, frighteningly, sounds pretty plausible.
According to this:
"At age 81 you will start playing an online game and become so addicted that you starve to death."
Which, frighteningly, sounds pretty plausible.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
Quotable Quotes
Some good ones I've come across. The best is the last one. Only smart people can understand.
"If its bleedin', its breedin'!"
- A friend of mine with a fervent disregard for age limits.
"Bag the face and bomb the place!"
- Another friend who subscribes to the principle of "love all serve all".
"If the river runs red, take the dirtroad instead."
- Anonymous SMS.
Some good ones I've come across. The best is the last one. Only smart people can understand.
"If its bleedin', its breedin'!"
- A friend of mine with a fervent disregard for age limits.
"Bag the face and bomb the place!"
- Another friend who subscribes to the principle of "love all serve all".
"If the river runs red, take the dirtroad instead."
- Anonymous SMS.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
I Go Insane
The other day I was talking to my friend on MSN. As it would happen, the conversation topic drifted to Transformers:
Me : optimus so boring.. so goody goody
Me : i think starscream is da best
Me : so bad boy
P : starscream is a faggot can
P : faggot voice
P : he's like megatron's fuck bitch
Me : eh wah lan eh.. he always try to fuck megawati one wat
Me : i mean megatron
Me : fuck
P : hahhahahahahahahahaha
Me : i mean he always try to betray megatron one la
P : HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
P : wah lau eh dude
Me : wah lan eh cheebye
The other day I was talking to my friend on MSN. As it would happen, the conversation topic drifted to Transformers:
Me : optimus so boring.. so goody goody
Me : i think starscream is da best
Me : so bad boy
P : starscream is a faggot can
P : faggot voice
P : he's like megatron's fuck bitch
Me : eh wah lan eh.. he always try to fuck megawati one wat
Me : i mean megatron
Me : fuck
P : hahhahahahahahahahaha
Me : i mean he always try to betray megatron one la
P : HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
P : wah lau eh dude
Me : wah lan eh cheebye
Bird Flu: The Final Showdown
This is American bohliaoness at its best:
Some fucking cock (no pun intended) made a movie about bird flu. Its like "Mr President, we have widespread human to human infection. In twenty four hours, the infected area will be the size of Texas. Recommend a tactical nucular strike to eliminate the threat."
This is American bohliaoness at its best:
Some fucking cock (no pun intended) made a movie about bird flu. Its like "Mr President, we have widespread human to human infection. In twenty four hours, the infected area will be the size of Texas. Recommend a tactical nucular strike to eliminate the threat." Speaking of which, in real life, the Indonesian government announced recently that the bird flu situation in Indonesia was "extraordinary". "Extraordinary" as in "it's extraordinary that you have a rash on your dick" that kind of "extraordinary". And then some more I kenah fever, aching bones and lao sai the same day as the news came out. Just like this case. Die already lah.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
One Last Hurrah
So 31 December happened to be Idul Ahda, the Islamic holiday of sacrifice. And since the preferred animal to sacrifice is a goat, lots of roadsides here were filled with goats for people to inspect, buy and, ultimately, kill, all for a good cause.
Anyway, the other day, I was in my car when I saw these two goats getting it on with some hot animal lovin' on the side of the road. Which would not have been so naughty if not for the stream of kids making their way to school beside them. I don't know why animals just seem to have less inhibitions here.
But I found it even more amusing when my driver told me that only male goats are supposed to sacrificed. Guess if you were going to die tomorrow, you would like to have done it all before you go.
So 31 December happened to be Idul Ahda, the Islamic holiday of sacrifice. And since the preferred animal to sacrifice is a goat, lots of roadsides here were filled with goats for people to inspect, buy and, ultimately, kill, all for a good cause.
Anyway, the other day, I was in my car when I saw these two goats getting it on with some hot animal lovin' on the side of the road. Which would not have been so naughty if not for the stream of kids making their way to school beside them. I don't know why animals just seem to have less inhibitions here.
But I found it even more amusing when my driver told me that only male goats are supposed to sacrificed. Guess if you were going to die tomorrow, you would like to have done it all before you go.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Bug Zapper!
So my place is like bug central la. Cos next door there's a construction site so got a lot of stagnant water which means fuckloads of mosquitoes which wake me up at night and piss the hell out of me.
Enter the Shuangying Multifunction Mosquito Hitting Racket (that's how its spelled on the packaging). Check it:
What you do is charge the capacitor overnight, screw it on the next morning, and when there's a bug in sight, you switch the thing to standby and then you swat the motherfucker while you press the trigger. If you connect, there's this zzzzzzzPOP! sound accompanied by a blue spark which will mean that you have sent one of the hell-spawned little assholes back to where they came from with 2300 volts of bug-frying fury. As the packaging says, "It can kill the mosquito which is sucking blood on human skin, but it is harmless to human. Without any feeling of electric shock when you touch the net on flat surface, it is safe for use."
I love this thing. And I think I've become addicted to it. Coupla days ago I found myself making one more trip to the kitchen juuuust to make sure that there weren't anymore bugs hanging around.
And somehow, there's less bugs around the house. Maybe word has gotten around.
So my place is like bug central la. Cos next door there's a construction site so got a lot of stagnant water which means fuckloads of mosquitoes which wake me up at night and piss the hell out of me.
Enter the Shuangying Multifunction Mosquito Hitting Racket (that's how its spelled on the packaging). Check it:
What you do is charge the capacitor overnight, screw it on the next morning, and when there's a bug in sight, you switch the thing to standby and then you swat the motherfucker while you press the trigger. If you connect, there's this zzzzzzzPOP! sound accompanied by a blue spark which will mean that you have sent one of the hell-spawned little assholes back to where they came from with 2300 volts of bug-frying fury. As the packaging says, "It can kill the mosquito which is sucking blood on human skin, but it is harmless to human. Without any feeling of electric shock when you touch the net on flat surface, it is safe for use."
I love this thing. And I think I've become addicted to it. Coupla days ago I found myself making one more trip to the kitchen juuuust to make sure that there weren't anymore bugs hanging around.
And somehow, there's less bugs around the house. Maybe word has gotten around.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Farterama
So I was in Melbourne recently right. And I stayed at my friend's place. So the other day we went for lunch at this Vietnamese place with her flatmate. Anyway, this was like the first time I've actually had a chance to talk to her flatmate since I arrived. Part of the lunch-time conversation went like this:
Friend (following on from previous topic in conversation): Anyway, women don't fart.
Me and Flatmate (simultaneously): Yeah they do.
Friend: No they don't!
Me: So what? You hold it in? That's disgusting. There's toxins and stuff in that shit. That's why it SMELLS.
Friend: You just don't do it!
Me: Nooo no no no no... That's what the girls always say. But you know they have a special technic so you never know. It's like the One Cheek Manouevre...
Flatmate and Friend: ...
Me: Ok the One Cheek Manouevre is when you sit down, and then you lean your weight to one side so that you're only sitting on one butt cheek and it kinda makes your asshole open up. And then you kinda let it out slow so the butt cheeks don't slap against each other and so they don't make any noise. Then suddenly it'll smell like fuck but then they just act like nothing happened or worse they play along and act like its so gross and where's this horrible smell coming from...
Flatmate: Yeah yeah yeah!!! (gives me a high five) Exactly! I never thought about discribing it like that but that's exactly what they do!
Friend (slightly redfaced): ... No....
Flatmate (excited): You know what I do? I kinda take a stroll around my cubicle, and then after I turn the corner, I kinda let it out, so I kinda leave a trail.. Then nobody knows who did it!
Me: Oh here comes our food.
Friend: Wow.. I'm famished.
Flatmate: Yeah me too.. That looks good.. Let's eat!
I love these guys.
So I was in Melbourne recently right. And I stayed at my friend's place. So the other day we went for lunch at this Vietnamese place with her flatmate. Anyway, this was like the first time I've actually had a chance to talk to her flatmate since I arrived. Part of the lunch-time conversation went like this:
Friend (following on from previous topic in conversation): Anyway, women don't fart.
Me and Flatmate (simultaneously): Yeah they do.
Friend: No they don't!
Me: So what? You hold it in? That's disgusting. There's toxins and stuff in that shit. That's why it SMELLS.
Friend: You just don't do it!
Me: Nooo no no no no... That's what the girls always say. But you know they have a special technic so you never know. It's like the One Cheek Manouevre...
Flatmate and Friend: ...
Me: Ok the One Cheek Manouevre is when you sit down, and then you lean your weight to one side so that you're only sitting on one butt cheek and it kinda makes your asshole open up. And then you kinda let it out slow so the butt cheeks don't slap against each other and so they don't make any noise. Then suddenly it'll smell like fuck but then they just act like nothing happened or worse they play along and act like its so gross and where's this horrible smell coming from...
Flatmate: Yeah yeah yeah!!! (gives me a high five) Exactly! I never thought about discribing it like that but that's exactly what they do!
Friend (slightly redfaced): ... No....
Flatmate (excited): You know what I do? I kinda take a stroll around my cubicle, and then after I turn the corner, I kinda let it out, so I kinda leave a trail.. Then nobody knows who did it!
Me: Oh here comes our food.
Friend: Wow.. I'm famished.
Flatmate: Yeah me too.. That looks good.. Let's eat!
I love these guys.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Cagiva Makes Cool Looking Bikes That Do Not Work
On my way home just now, I saw two Indonesian dudes on a a cool-looking scooter-bike thing. As I did a double take, I realise that the thing wasn't working and they were kinda paddling their feet on the road to get out of the way of traffic. On even closer inspection, I noticed the word "Cagiva" on the bike.
It reminded me of the 125cc Cagiva Planet that the fucking cheebye scum-of-the-earth-take-your-money-and-don't-care-whether-the-bike-they-sell-you-has-brakes-that-work-and-if-you-die-on-the-road-then-tough AS Phoon sold me (by the way, they have quite a big branch along Changi Road. The address is 399 Changi Road, Singapore 419846. If you are my friend you will research the internet, build a car bomb and drive it straight into their workshop, blowing the fuckers into Kingdom Come. But I'll also settle for you bagging up your pee into water bombs and doing a drive-by assault every other weekend). I swear, the first night I brought that piece of shit home and turned it off, it wouldn't start again, thus launching a long drawn-out Me vs The AS Phoon Bastards campaign where I tried to get a refund for the bike and ended up having to settle for paying them $500 and buying another (fucked up) bike from them. I am deadly serious when I say that they are dishonest motherfuckers who will blatantly tell you that a bike is "supposed to be like that one" even if it refuses to start and the wheels are about to fall off.
Anyway, this is what a 125cc Cagiva Planet looks like:
Pretty cool right?...
WRONG
The Cagiva Planet is one of the lousiest excuses for a bike that I have ever seen. According to an accredited Cagiva technician in Singapore, the fact that it is nigh impossible to put the gears into neutral is not a design or manufacturing fault. Rather, it is a special "characteristic" of the bike. The charitable view would be that its designers figured a puny 125cc would not be truly Italian unless it had some temperamental 'quirk' which would drive its owner to rabid, bike-smashing insanity if not for its achingly sexy lines. The uncharitable view, on the other hand, eludes me because my command of Hokkien is lacking.
Seems like Cagivas the world over are pieces of shit.
As for Mark of AS Phoon, Changi Branch, who knowingly sold me a one, I will hunt you down, break your limbs, gouge out your eyes, disembowel you and make you eat your intestines and then leave you to be sodomised by Lee Chee Chew, afterwhich I will find out where you live, burn down your house and extended family. Pets included.
May Santa Claus put dogshit in your girly fishnet stockings for every Christmas the rest of your life.
On my way home just now, I saw two Indonesian dudes on a a cool-looking scooter-bike thing. As I did a double take, I realise that the thing wasn't working and they were kinda paddling their feet on the road to get out of the way of traffic. On even closer inspection, I noticed the word "Cagiva" on the bike.
It reminded me of the 125cc Cagiva Planet that the fucking cheebye scum-of-the-earth-take-your-money-and-don't-care-whether-the-bike-they-sell-you-has-brakes-that-work-and-if-you-die-on-the-road-then-tough AS Phoon sold me (by the way, they have quite a big branch along Changi Road. The address is 399 Changi Road, Singapore 419846. If you are my friend you will research the internet, build a car bomb and drive it straight into their workshop, blowing the fuckers into Kingdom Come. But I'll also settle for you bagging up your pee into water bombs and doing a drive-by assault every other weekend). I swear, the first night I brought that piece of shit home and turned it off, it wouldn't start again, thus launching a long drawn-out Me vs The AS Phoon Bastards campaign where I tried to get a refund for the bike and ended up having to settle for paying them $500 and buying another (fucked up) bike from them. I am deadly serious when I say that they are dishonest motherfuckers who will blatantly tell you that a bike is "supposed to be like that one" even if it refuses to start and the wheels are about to fall off.
Anyway, this is what a 125cc Cagiva Planet looks like:
Pretty cool right?...
WRONG
The Cagiva Planet is one of the lousiest excuses for a bike that I have ever seen. According to an accredited Cagiva technician in Singapore, the fact that it is nigh impossible to put the gears into neutral is not a design or manufacturing fault. Rather, it is a special "characteristic" of the bike. The charitable view would be that its designers figured a puny 125cc would not be truly Italian unless it had some temperamental 'quirk' which would drive its owner to rabid, bike-smashing insanity if not for its achingly sexy lines. The uncharitable view, on the other hand, eludes me because my command of Hokkien is lacking.
Seems like Cagivas the world over are pieces of shit.
As for Mark of AS Phoon, Changi Branch, who knowingly sold me a one, I will hunt you down, break your limbs, gouge out your eyes, disembowel you and make you eat your intestines and then leave you to be sodomised by Lee Chee Chew, afterwhich I will find out where you live, burn down your house and extended family. Pets included.
May Santa Claus put dogshit in your girly fishnet stockings for every Christmas the rest of your life.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Indonesian Bedtime Stories
Excellent bedtime reading.
There's even a nice picture:
So when I first arrived in Jogja back in June, I thought I'd be extra diligent and make sure that I did everything to get my Indonesian up to scratch. So I was damn fucking on la. Went to buy Indonesian childrens' books cos I thought I could practice on them. Thing is, my Indonesian at the time was so fucked up that I couldn't even read Tom & Jerry comics in Indonesian so I just chucked them aside and forgot about them.
Now that I've just moved into my new apartment which, because its now the holy week of Lebaran and nobody goes in to work, is without TV/internet/radio/cheap prostitutes, etc. So as I was looking for something I could use to slit my wrists (I don't have any knives either), I found one of these books and started reading. And I tell you this is one fucking bad ass childrens' book man.
It's called "30 Dongeng Sebelum Tidur Untuk Anak Muslim" or "30 Bedtime Stories for Muslim Children". The wording on the cover is nice and friendly with big words in different pastel colours. So I was flipping through it when I saw this picture:
Apparently its for a story called "Zunairah Yang Teguh Dan Tabah" or "Zunairah Who Is Firm and Resolute". O-kay.. So the story is about this Arab dude called Abu Jabal who had this slave called Zunairah who was like damn pretty and served him very well and all. Then one day she decided to convert to Islam but cos Abu Jabal's more of a pagan kind of guy, he gets really pissed off and tries to order her to go back to praying to his pagan gods. And when she refuses, he like punishes her. And then the book goes on to describe in graphic detail how he ripped off her blouse and lashed her back with a big whip. Then there's a description of how the whip was like damn painful and there were like bleeding welts on her back but then she was like resolute in her faith, so she took the torture. And then the book tells in detail how this went on for several days, until her lips were like dry and bleeding but still she would not renounce her faith cos she was like damn strong and resolute. And finally the torture was so hard that it causes her to go blind. But then because God had mercy on her, so the next time the guy tortures her, the pain somehow causes the nerves in her eyes to be reconnected and she can see again. Finally some Muslim dude buys her out of her misery.
Excellent bedtime reading.
And then there's the other story with the title "Hukum Mesti Ditegakkan" or "The Law Must be Enforced" (the titles, by the way, are written in cute, friendly fonts). In this story, some chick comes to the house of some Umar bin Khathab guy to tell him that his son, Abu Salmah, had like premarital sex with her (apparently, the Indonesian word for that is "zinah") and got her pregnant. Umar is like furious with his son and questions Abu Salmah, who promptly admits that he has "sinned" and will accept his due punishment. So Umar turns from furious to proud that his son actually had the balls to admit that he slept with this girl and got her pregnant. But the Law must be upheld so Umar tells his people to tie up Abu Salmah and, guess what? Has him WHIPPED. Woohoo!!
There's even a nice picture:
AND then there's the other one about the king who lost a battle and was tortured by his enemies by being boiled alive in an earthenware pot. Excellent stuff. I can imagine a typical bedtime scene here. Mom says, "Kids, time for bed, let mommy tuck you in and read you a nice little bedtime story. Hmmm.. what shall we read tonight? How about '30 Bedtime Stories for Muslim Children'?" The kids go, "Yay!! I wanna hear the one about the unfaithful wife who slept with another guy and then got whipped and gutted before being burned alive by her husband! Please Mommy pleeeaase??..."
And I wondered why people here are weird.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Dumb Taxi Drivers II
Today the conversation with the taxi driver was much shorter:
Me: Hi, I'm going somewhere quite nearby actually. Drop me opposite the road to XXX building. I know the way so don't worry.
Driver: Oh...
(Five second pause)
Driver: Good morning.
Me: .... Morning. Just drive. I know the way.
Today the conversation with the taxi driver was much shorter:
Me: Hi, I'm going somewhere quite nearby actually. Drop me opposite the road to XXX building. I know the way so don't worry.
Driver: Oh...
(Five second pause)
Driver: Good morning.
Me: .... Morning. Just drive. I know the way.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Write in C
Someone sent me this. Only engineers and computer programmers would understand. Man I kinda wonder what it'd be like to be an engineer. Life would be so simple. Do a calculation, it's either correct or wrong. Write a code, either it works or it doesn't and you find the offending line and correct it. Now I worry about the difference between "it is likely that..." or "cannot rule out the possibility...". I guess the readily available commercial sex here kinda makes up for it. Anyway, enjoy:
"Write in C" (Sung to the tune of the Beatles' "Let it Be")
When I find my code in tons of trouble
Friends and colleagues come to me
Speaking words of wisdom: Write in C
As the deadline fast approaches
And bugs are all that I can see
Somewhere, someone whispers: Write in C
Chorus
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, oh, Write in C
LOGO's dead and buried
Write in C
I used to write a lot of FORTRAN
For science it worked flawlessly
Try using it for graphics! Write in C
If you've just spent nearly 30 hours
Debugging some assembly
Soon you will be glad to
Chorus
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, yeah, Write in C
BASIC's not the answer
Write in C
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, oh, Write in C
Pascal won't quite cut it
Write in C
But then again, I remember how programming really sucks ass. Last time I programme in FORTRAN and C, really wanna vomit blood when I see the fucking error message. Oh well. Hot prostitutes it is.
Someone sent me this. Only engineers and computer programmers would understand. Man I kinda wonder what it'd be like to be an engineer. Life would be so simple. Do a calculation, it's either correct or wrong. Write a code, either it works or it doesn't and you find the offending line and correct it. Now I worry about the difference between "it is likely that..." or "cannot rule out the possibility...". I guess the readily available commercial sex here kinda makes up for it. Anyway, enjoy:
"Write in C" (Sung to the tune of the Beatles' "Let it Be")
When I find my code in tons of trouble
Friends and colleagues come to me
Speaking words of wisdom: Write in C
As the deadline fast approaches
And bugs are all that I can see
Somewhere, someone whispers: Write in C
Chorus
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, oh, Write in C
LOGO's dead and buried
Write in C
I used to write a lot of FORTRAN
For science it worked flawlessly
Try using it for graphics! Write in C
If you've just spent nearly 30 hours
Debugging some assembly
Soon you will be glad to
Chorus
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, yeah, Write in C
BASIC's not the answer
Write in C
Write in C, Write in C
Write in C, oh, Write in C
Pascal won't quite cut it
Write in C
But then again, I remember how programming really sucks ass. Last time I programme in FORTRAN and C, really wanna vomit blood when I see the fucking error message. Oh well. Hot prostitutes it is.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Taxi Drivers Are Stupid
Every morning I have to go to my office which is like a 15 minute walk away but because I'm a wimp and don't want to get mugged, I take a taxi. Anyway, taxi drivers are damn dumb boy. Because I want to avoid the traffic jam, I usually stop on the side of the road opposite my office and take the overhead bridge across. If the driver were to drop me right at my office, he'd have to make one big round and waste like half an hour in the jam. But the fucking drivers just simply cannot understand that I want to be dropped opposite my office. Typical morning conversation (in Indonesian):
Me: Morning, can you take me to near the Indian Embassy in Kuningan? But don't go inside the Embassy. I'll direct you from there. (I figure it's easier to give them information in small bits so that they can process it in their tiny brains - first I tell them go to the Indian Embassy which is near where I want to get off and then I direct them from there).
Driver: Err.. Right. (Gives me a I'm-not-sure-what-this-guy-is-saying-but-I'll-just-pretend-I-know-and-play-it-by-ear-because-I-don't-want-to-look-stupid kinda look. Obviously he's thinking, "go to the Indian Embassy but DON'T go in? So does this guy want to go to the Indian Embassy or does he want to go somewhere else? Nevermind. I'll just pretend that I'm supposed to go to the Indian Embassy.")
Me: (Striking up a friendly conversation to gently socialise the driver to the idea that I don't want him to stop at the Indian Embassy but continue on after that) Actually I'm going to this office building near the Indian Embassy, not actually to the Indian Embassy. The building's called XXX. But I want to avoid the jam so I want to get off on the side of the road opposite my office and cross the overhead bridge. You know how bad the jam is at this time.
Driver: Oo.. kay.. (blank look)... Briiiidge. Indian... Embassy...
Me: Yeah go near to the Indian Embassy first but don't go inside. (We approach the junction to the Indian Embassy.) You turn right at this junction to go to the Indian Embassy. Yeah. Right. Here. Yeah turn right now. But don't go inside the Embassy compound. Just go RIGHT past it and I'll direct you after that.
Driver: Indian... Embassy..
Me: Yeees.. Indian Embassy. But... don't... go.. inside... I actually want to stop on the side of the road opposite XXX building.
Driver: (Slowing the taxi along the entire stretch of houses outside of the entrance to the Indian Embassy). So.. Indian Embassy is along this stretch.
Me: Yes I know. You don't have to slow down because I'm... not... going... to... the... Indian... Embassy. Just go straight past the Indian Embassy and on to the main road where you turn left.
Driver: So, don't turn into the Indian Embassy. (Accelerates slightly past the Indian Embassy but obviously unsure of whether he was supposed to turn in because he looks forlornly back at the Embassy entrance.)
Me: Yes. Thaaaat's right. Go past the Embassy like what you're doing now..
Driver: But you know that was the Indian Embassy right?
Me: Ye-es I know. But you didn't have to turn in because I want you to turn left at this junction coming ahead now. (He can only turn left anyway because its the main road). After that, just drop me at the bridge (ok I'll admit that I don't know the Indonesian word for overhead bridge but there's only one fucking bridge there so which one other than the overhead bridge?)
Driver: Turn left...
Me: Yes. And you see the bridge in front of you? Just drop me at the foot of the bridge.
Driver: Uh.. bridge?
Me: Yeah the one that's coming right up. See? This one. Briiiiiiiidge... For peeeeooooople... Bridge for people to walk. You know bridge? Bridge that is across the main road. But bridge which have no car on it. Bridge which is for people. People who want to get from one side of the road to the other side. Overhead bridge (in English, hoping against all hope that he can understand). Just drop me beside the bridge.
Driver: Bridge...
Me: Yeah this one. That's about to pass by us now.
Driver: We just passed the Indian Embassy.
Me: Forget about the Indian Embassy. I want you to drop me here beside the bridge.... Stop... Stop here. Stop now. Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop. Yeeees... that's right. Stop here. Here. Riiiight HERE. (I pay the guy).
Driver: But your change...
Me: Just... Don't worry about it. (Slam the door).
And this happens almost on a daily basis.
Every morning I have to go to my office which is like a 15 minute walk away but because I'm a wimp and don't want to get mugged, I take a taxi. Anyway, taxi drivers are damn dumb boy. Because I want to avoid the traffic jam, I usually stop on the side of the road opposite my office and take the overhead bridge across. If the driver were to drop me right at my office, he'd have to make one big round and waste like half an hour in the jam. But the fucking drivers just simply cannot understand that I want to be dropped opposite my office. Typical morning conversation (in Indonesian):
Me: Morning, can you take me to near the Indian Embassy in Kuningan? But don't go inside the Embassy. I'll direct you from there. (I figure it's easier to give them information in small bits so that they can process it in their tiny brains - first I tell them go to the Indian Embassy which is near where I want to get off and then I direct them from there).
Driver: Err.. Right. (Gives me a I'm-not-sure-what-this-guy-is-saying-but-I'll-just-pretend-I-know-and-play-it-by-ear-because-I-don't-want-to-look-stupid kinda look. Obviously he's thinking, "go to the Indian Embassy but DON'T go in? So does this guy want to go to the Indian Embassy or does he want to go somewhere else? Nevermind. I'll just pretend that I'm supposed to go to the Indian Embassy.")
Me: (Striking up a friendly conversation to gently socialise the driver to the idea that I don't want him to stop at the Indian Embassy but continue on after that) Actually I'm going to this office building near the Indian Embassy, not actually to the Indian Embassy. The building's called XXX. But I want to avoid the jam so I want to get off on the side of the road opposite my office and cross the overhead bridge. You know how bad the jam is at this time.
Driver: Oo.. kay.. (blank look)... Briiiidge. Indian... Embassy...
Me: Yeah go near to the Indian Embassy first but don't go inside. (We approach the junction to the Indian Embassy.) You turn right at this junction to go to the Indian Embassy. Yeah. Right. Here. Yeah turn right now. But don't go inside the Embassy compound. Just go RIGHT past it and I'll direct you after that.
Driver: Indian... Embassy..
Me: Yeees.. Indian Embassy. But... don't... go.. inside... I actually want to stop on the side of the road opposite XXX building.
Driver: (Slowing the taxi along the entire stretch of houses outside of the entrance to the Indian Embassy). So.. Indian Embassy is along this stretch.
Me: Yes I know. You don't have to slow down because I'm... not... going... to... the... Indian... Embassy. Just go straight past the Indian Embassy and on to the main road where you turn left.
Driver: So, don't turn into the Indian Embassy. (Accelerates slightly past the Indian Embassy but obviously unsure of whether he was supposed to turn in because he looks forlornly back at the Embassy entrance.)
Me: Yes. Thaaaat's right. Go past the Embassy like what you're doing now..
Driver: But you know that was the Indian Embassy right?
Me: Ye-es I know. But you didn't have to turn in because I want you to turn left at this junction coming ahead now. (He can only turn left anyway because its the main road). After that, just drop me at the bridge (ok I'll admit that I don't know the Indonesian word for overhead bridge but there's only one fucking bridge there so which one other than the overhead bridge?)
Driver: Turn left...
Me: Yes. And you see the bridge in front of you? Just drop me at the foot of the bridge.
Driver: Uh.. bridge?
Me: Yeah the one that's coming right up. See? This one. Briiiiiiiidge... For peeeeooooople... Bridge for people to walk. You know bridge? Bridge that is across the main road. But bridge which have no car on it. Bridge which is for people. People who want to get from one side of the road to the other side. Overhead bridge (in English, hoping against all hope that he can understand). Just drop me beside the bridge.
Driver: Bridge...
Me: Yeah this one. That's about to pass by us now.
Driver: We just passed the Indian Embassy.
Me: Forget about the Indian Embassy. I want you to drop me here beside the bridge.... Stop... Stop here. Stop now. Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop. Yeeees... that's right. Stop here. Here. Riiiight HERE. (I pay the guy).
Driver: But your change...
Me: Just... Don't worry about it. (Slam the door).
And this happens almost on a daily basis.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
My Hotel Room Cleaner Has OCD
That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's like you know that detective show "Monk" where the main character has this mental problem where he cannot tahan if if anything in his surroundings are out of place? I mean, I know hotel staff are supposed to clean up your room and make sure everything is neat but check out these pictures. This was in my bathroom:
Fucking hell. Where do they get these people?
That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's like you know that detective show "Monk" where the main character has this mental problem where he cannot tahan if if anything in his surroundings are out of place? I mean, I know hotel staff are supposed to clean up your room and make sure everything is neat but check out these pictures. This was in my bathroom:
Notice the way the two energizer batteries are positioned so that the "Energizer" word is facing the same way? Like army inspection right?
And then this one is of the stuff on my desk. See how she folded my orange spectacle cloth neatly? And then she arranged the three coins in a row according to denomination. The one on the left is Rp500 whereas the two thinner ones on the right are Rp100s (I bumped into the table so they're not in a perfect straight line anymore at the time I took this photo).
Fucking hell. Where do they get these people?
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