In a parking lot, a BMWhatever-the-hell-series automobile lies untouched and recently cleaned by those men that washes cars in basements parking lots; I could tell by the water slowly flowing away, and the accentuated sheen of its dry and smooth surface.

I made a silly joke: We'll juice (cup, stone, water) it, and the loser has to go and dirty the car real proper; I lost. We both knew that we weren't going to dirty the car, but I decided to keep true to the bet/promise; I proceeded with tearing a small leaf into several pieces and pasted one on the back and front windshield, and the side. I only did it because there were several leaves on the top already.

I did this believing that there were no spectators around, and also because it seemed more like a prank than vandalism. I should have thought more about my friend's door-lock, because it apparently doesn't lock itself; I left it unlocked accidentally.

As we were walking back to the car, I realised that there was a piece tissue paper on the trunk, and pointed that out to my friend. The BMW was gone by then. I assume that it was all he/she did. In a sort of playful retaliation, the victim had rummaged through my friend's belongings; for example: The CD wallet was flipped through, but theft wasn't a concern because the CDs were all copies of originals. The victim also left my shades untouched, along with all other materials in the car.

I felt guilty for having brought this upon him; it was our game, and we didn't mean to cause any harm. I don't think the BMW owner meant any harm either. Maybe he just lacked some good music. I could tell that he wanted us to know that he'd been there because he left the CD wallet opened and out of place. Hence "playful retaliation."

On the lucky note/side, the laptop in the trunk of the car was left untouched. This is the last time I'll ever play a prank on anyone again. It's wasn't even as if I had seriously dirtied his car. Three pieces of a leaf (because I tore it into pieces) on windscreens was more like a "hello!" than it was a "@#$!@#$"

I've learnt my lesson; this is the last time I'll ever leave the door unchecked of locking. And also leaving leafy messages on expensive cars.

I had dinner at the Manhattan Fish Market at Sunway Pyramid today. At the back of the restaurant they have a big screen where they projected an interesting documentary-thingy on fish. It consisted of short videos of different types of fish. Now I suppose this would be pretty normal if it was just that, but the videos showed these different types of fishes eating one another. If it wasn't a fish eating a smaller fish, it was a fish chomping on a lobster, or a squild sucking up a crab (that was pretty fascinating actually, since I have never seen a squid eat before). Don't get me wrong, I find documentaries on animals very fun and interesting to watch. But I found myself wondering, who the hell would want to watch their dinner devour each other while waiting for their dinner (umm, fish?) to be served?

I scarfed my meal down like a gluttonous pig anyway.

Based upon a true story, the movie tells the story of the infamous Z-Boys (Zephyr), a skating team in the 1970s. I found it to resemble a sort of tribute and tell-all story. As I don't know the actual story, or in-depth story of the Z-Boys, I cannot say if it is accurate in depiction or otherwise.

The movie starts from when they were surfers, then street menace to society, to professional contest winners. The characters at first--more or less--look alike. Sporting surferboy-school-dropout looks and demeanor, they slowly evolve and change in the span of two or so hours. The movie softly highlights that they came from different backgrounds and had their own different personalities and agendas for each individual. All affected by different traditions and ways of life brought together by one passion; one dream!

Their rise to fame, showed by the success of each skater, and the way that they reacted to the rising of popularity, and the conflicts faced with each other and the public. Centered on the skaters themselves, the movie--supposedly--details the reasons and underlying struggle(s) from every angle of the Z-team.

Actors: This was one side of Heath Ledger's acting that I've not seen before. He looked and sounded like John Malkovich, and I couldn't recognise him with his hair down, which I think is my fault entirely. Johnny Knoxville and Tony Hawk make an appearance; I hope that's not a spoiler. Other details might actually spoil it for you.

I went into this movie expecting that it was going to be pretty good. Throughout the movie, I wasn't at all disappointed by the redundant scenes, if there were any; I couldn't find much fault with the movie, but maybe that's because I just like watching skateboarding. I sort of thought it was going to be a documentary-ish movie about the history of skateboarding and how it came to be, and even that was acceptable for me.

Bottomline: Go watch it! Definitely! Especially if you were ever curious about the whole skateboarding era.

One day in college one of my lecturers got angry at my class. There was a miscommunication between him and a student that disrupted our studies, and he was furious. He shouted at us so loudly that the classes adjoining ours could hear every single word. All throughout the abusive lecture we sat fuming in silence, tuning it out while he ranted and raved in front of the class, save one girl. She burst into tears and yelled back at him for saying things that she felt were inappropriate.

"How can you call us stupid?" she sobbed. "Just because we all made a mistake doesn't mean we're stupid! How dare you call us stupid? No one has ever called me stupid before in my entire life!"

The cynic in me laughed at that statement. Yet deeper within me, I wondered - how nice would it be to grow up in a world where the people who demean you weren't the people who were supposed to love you the most?

Woohoo, it's payday! Let the mass shopping, expensive dining and boozing commence!

I love watching the sun set. It is so breathtakingly beautiful that I would love to do nothing else but stop and gaze in awe until the last glimmer of light disappears over the horizon. Of course, that is a very bad thing to do in traffic when you're driving.

I usually leave my office around 6pm to 8pm, which is about the time the sun starts setting, depending on what time of the year it is and the weather. Every time I see a sunset it always look different. I love watching the last rays of the sun for the day bounce off the pattern of clouds in the sky. I love seeing the orange (sometimes red, like today) sunlight mix with the blue sky. How the trees look like a silhoutte in the impending darkess. The way the lights of a building illuminates itself against the backdrop of the sunset.

I would love to take snapshots of these sunsets every day on my way home from work, but it is rather hard to do that when your hands are on the wheel. Or supposed to be on the wheel. Every time I stare into the sky while trying not to knock into the cars around me I wonder how the picture would look like on film, and whether it'd capture the essence of that sunset. I once took photos of the sun rising from the clouds from a plane. Perhaps fittingly, I was on my first trip to The Land of the Rising Sun. I had trouble sleeping on the plane (it was a night flight) and by the time I got sleepy enough to sleep I forced myself not to because I wanted to look at the sunrise from a plane and take photos. The pictures came out beautifully, though I suppose anyone awake enough would have looked at me and wondered what in the name of God I was doing. I should probably scan them in and post them up sometime. But until then, I'll be left gazing into the sky thinking about how I could capture that moment of wonder.

Briefest I can put it: Worth the watch (action)!

My expectation was that the movie was going to be another disappointment. Having had one disappointment about twelve hours ago, I wasn't--especially--in the mood for another brain buster. Furthermore--Stealth--what impression would you get from that title?

Surprised I was, to learn that the graphics put into the movie were pretty good. Acceptable to my terms, and I'm not one for Harry Potter, mind you! How many Harry Potter movies are there now? Seven? There's quite a lot of people raving about the book as well.

Pardon me for digressing, but straight to the point: Most stories are going to have some sort of cheesy and predictable scenes and endings. This was not going to be any different, but I want to point out that somehow, the story doesn't really bug you and--again--is acceptable by me. You just want to see the jets rape enemy ass and sodomise other lowly jets. So go watch it!

Not only do you get to watch jets shoot stuff up, you also get to watch the lead actress prance around in her swimsuit, if that helps. It's a blue bikini.

Quick opinions of others:
"The movie was cool!!", says Aileen, in other words exclaiming acceptance.
"The movie was really cool and very entertaining", Shao Ming responds, adding that the aircraft is too soft, "but the plane has got too much emotions."

To come: Review on "Lords of Dogtown."
"I'll get you auto-bots!", screams Star-scream (Transformers).
Semi-Disclaimer: And don't give me anything about spoilers!

Briefest I can put it: No!

It lacked the quality that the classic Bewitched series left behind. The story moved slowly, though they tried speeding it up, but the concept differed slightly from the original therefore my expectations can't be that high.

Good casting with Shirley MacLaine and Michael Caine. However, wanting in coverage of the supportive cast. Overall, I was disappointed. After all, I used to watch the original.

I don't quite know if you can call this a remake.

SW: I want to be a rally driver!
Me: Like me la?
SW: ??
Me: I'm a rarely driver.
SW: ??
Me: I rarely drive, what?!

In explanation, the reason I made that joke was because we all know that I don't drive as often as anyone else. Up to the point of rarely driving. Bad word-play, but amusing either way.

It should be a death penalty for people to slow down and gape/take photos/wrtie down 4D numbers at accidents on the road. As if it isn't bad enough that the accident will cut off at least one lane on the road, people just HAVE TO slow down and take a better look, nevermind that nothing major happened. Thank you for making my usual 30 minute journey home from work stretch to MORE THAN A GODDAMN HOUR.

Another over-zealous moment: On my way out the door, I tie my shoe laces. I obviously yanked it too hard because the lace snaps. I tell myself, "Nicely done!" In the words of one May Yen, "Bravo! Bravo!" I need new strings for my leather shoes now.

We then ride to the Mid-Valley offices. She had an interview at Catcha's office. Greeted by J, we proceeded to the lounge/waiting room, where E.V. filled in her application form (for Fear Factor). The silly girl can't even fill it out properly; had to ask me--countless times--what to answer in personality-related questions.

It takes E.V. ages to fill up a form. It was a full room before she completed her form. There are only two people left, including herself. While waiting for her, I found out that Catcha owns a lot of other companies and magazines.

So, we're on the way back from the car, and E.V. here decides to be the one that knows the directions. You can just say you want to walk around next time. Your detour to MNG (Mango) and Top Shop does not inspire trust because those shops are not in the direction of where we're going.

Insistingly adamant on knowing the way to the car is in order to travel the mall isn't going to work because I know very well where the car is. So, yes! Yes, we can go look around if you just said you wanted to. Ignoring my "It's this way" signals doesn't nullify its existence when I speak.

We are not alike, in case you think that I'd believe half the things you say. Due to the very consistent results of your words being the opposite and/or furthest of what they depict; such as: us being there (Mid-Valley Offices) for only a short period (30 minutes max) when it was a wholesome 3 hours, I have concluded that you think we think alike enough to know what you mean.

The cherry:
J to E.V.: Has anyone ever told you that he's (Me) weird?
E.V.: Yes! (In a "Oh-yes-god-yes-Please-accept-me!" manner.)

It must be so grand that people can see your bra through a skimpy shirt! You're a normal person! Don't worry! A jerk, but still normal in our culture. You are probably racist, and think Muslims are weird. That's the impression I get off you. A normal and regular impression, I believe.

Story starts out with me asking about our SPM certificate and whether or not the subject of History appears if we fail. It doesn't. Then it went on about how I didn't write anything on the paper and handed it up.

Interrupted by pal-O-mine, with another short story, though not his. A mutual friend's History paper was sent back to him during the exam.

Why: He drew a dinosaur on the exam sheet and wrote "Inilah sejarah!" which means "This is history." I couldn't control my laughter at that point. Had I knew about this earlier, it wouldn't be as funny.

We continued on with laughter for about 1-2 minutes. Mind you, this is laughter with no words in the background, so obviously it can't be prolonged to such extremes.

I wondered what kind of dinosaur it was. Stegosaurus, Brontosaurus, Failosaurus... The story was just so hilarious. Perhaps you'd have to listen in order to share the humour.

Addendum: This was five years ago in secondary school.

A pal-O-mine told me a story of how he once smoked up with a bunch of his friends, and coincidentally that day, his friend left her dog, Cuddles, with him to be watched for the day.

So, Cuddles went up next to him, triggering his curiousity for cannabis and puppy. He blew the smoke at the doggy. It didn't move away, or recoil in any way. They continued smoking and Cuddles sat next to them the whole time.

After a while, they finished and pal-O-mine moved off the couch for a while. Upon his return, he observed that Cuddles hadn't moved for the entire duration of the joint. He called out to Cuddles, "Cuddles, Cuddles" but Cuddles just sat there. Drawing his finger, he pushed Cuddles to the side softly and Cuddles just slowly fell lopsided. And laid there. Stoned.

He went to sleep next to Cuddles. Cuddles slept on his arm (this is your "aww how cute" moment) and in the morning when he woke up, Cuddles had vommited all over his arm.

Tis a beautiful story. I hope you share the humour.

Introduction to entry: I went for an interview again at [...] recently, but this time I was applying for a different position; Customer Support Analyst, which is a better way of saying help-desk drone, or so I am feeble enough to think. I'm stealing a format of speaking from a movie or something, but what I say still applies.

I got passed over (kept-in-view-ed) and I felt that the reason I was passed over was slightly offensive (as though they were trying to say something else), however, I accepted it as what people do, and that it is the way things went on--and it is--hopefully "was". However, I don't know what it was that made said reason.

Did I make the effort to go there just so you could tell me that I might not be interested, or that you as an interviewer have profound insight as to what I--most possibly--would be doing (breach a contract) in the future? I'll try to be overly enthusiastic the next time, if that helps. "Try" being the operative word.

Conversation with Recruit-lady: She beats around the bush a little, then after getting tired of going round the bush, she tells me about being passed over. She then proceeded with a discourse (again) on how SAP/ERP needs at least a year's experience. I liked how she attributed (without having to say anything) that to: me not getting the job; otherwise, I don't think she would have mentioned that. Again, I'm having not much of a grasp on what she's trying to say.

This is the point whereby I get confused. I cannot understand your hints (subtle or not) if you are not direct with what you're saying. I can appreciate your effort(s) for assisting my job search. Then again you are earning commission from me.

My friends tell me, "You just have to lie!" several times. I don't doubt that doing that would get me a position, but I don't understand why I have to lie. After you get in, only then do you worry about your lies (heh heh). I don't know if it's within me to do that.

Sample of lie:
"Good evening! My aspirations are to be whatever you're offering, albeit entry level or exit level, so as long as I get a help-desk job, I will aspire to be a help-desk executive." How do you lie about it exactly that doesn't make you out to be a liar?

Furthermore, what is really funny about it was when one person said "you have to lie!", another joined in with the same sentiments, and then another. The very next night, we spoke again; this time one person said "it's one year y'know?!", and another said it. I looked over to the last person and waited for him--expectantly--to say it. Surprised I was that he didn't repeat the exact words. I found this very amusing (not in a bad way).

Summary of my words and conclusion: I can understand that it's an acceptable reason for not hiring me, for I don't know if I'm going to leave and breach said contract that I have yet to look at, and honestly, neither do you. I understand that you are working on a gut feeling. You are thinking on behalf of the welfare of your organisation and its employees; granted! And about the case of "You just have to lie!", I'd much rather sell myself than to lie. Perhaps there isn't a line in between in these types of scenarios. I won't argue with you. At least not that much. I promise you that this will be the last time you either read, or hear about this.

Coincidence: Abbreviate "Customer Support Analyst."

Woke up with a minor headache/migraine; a dry mouth; a reaffirmed love for Johnie Walker, though it’s more like love/loathe, sometimes. Remembering to continue with yesterday’s post.

It was dinner at Takemura, a Japanese restaurant off the coast of Uptown. The five of us, which is pretty good for a turn-out these days (or so I imagine), turned up for dinner. We had a nice shared meal and the conversation was marvelous as always. It’s surprising how many euphemisms a plumber can generate: Plug it; I have a leak in my pipes; take a look at my pipes. There are more but I can’t remember them.

Have 5 additions for my collection of pictures. And if you have yet to contribute or don’t want to, you’re mistaken because you do and will. It’s all about timing.

We (I, Hwa, Jo, and Nicholas) went to Velvet after dinner. There are many photographs (from the restaurant) but going to their web logs for the pictures are most likely the wisest thing you could do, for I don’t have them.

Dancing with my buddies was very fun. Since the music was not really of our time, it seemed like we were just making fun of that era by dancing in ways observed from 80s-90s music videos. Further, I wasn’t very well at the dancing because at times my hands either hit the heads or other body parts of other people. He (this stranger) forgave me for hitting him--thankfully--otherwise I’d have to kick his ass, and I didn’t want to because I was wearing a shirt that restricted my movement, plus I didn’t really want to.

Gigi and Connie, Hwa’s pallies, joined us at the club, too. I bring this up because I accidentally poured water over her skirt when I was trying for the glass. That was just brilliant! At least I had paper towels on hand. I would like to broadcast my apology.

Sitting next to Joanne on the chair, we share a glass of water and whatever else we can find. This is after having spilled water over Gigi, which is plain embarrassing. I admit that I might have been a little over-zealous about drinking the water. So, we sat there next to each other a little bored and out of a drink (at least I think she was bored or tired, maybe even sad). She dares me to ask the lady next to us if we could have some of her mighty fine black label whiskey. I did it only on the second or third time she persisted; the lady obliges.

I sure showed you, Jo! My admission is this: I was a tad tipsy after the drinks prior to that. Either way, I hope I have new found respect from my buddy Jo.

Saw familiar faces like Elaine. Kenneth, and Alvin. Then on the way to the car on the outside we ran into Tor Kit.

I entered my name into http://jobpredictor.com/, and this is what I got:

Boon Ying Ong, Your ideal job is a Anything except what you're doing now.

Wow, now that does wonders for self-esteem.

For those not in the know, Katamari Damacy is a quirky Japanese game by Namco (who are apparently famous for coming up with this sort of nonsense) in which you play a tiny green alien-ish guy named Prince of All Cosmos who rolls around this big ball called a katamari.

Basically the wacky backstory is this: One day, your father, the King of All Cosmos, gets drunk and accidentally destroys all the stars in the universe. Morning afterwards, he wakes up and realizes what's happened, and that people wouldn't be too happy to find out that all their stars are missing, so he sends his son (you) down to Earth to roll up stuff on the katamari so he can launch them into space to make new stars. Why doesn't he go himself? I don't know, but the king being really mean to his son probably has something to do with it.

It's a very simple game, each stage you're supposed to roll the katamari to a certain size. There are also some special levels where you have to roll up certain things, like crabs, eggs, or twins (pairs of everything). Presents are scattered on Earth as well, and if you find them then you can make the Prince wear it afterwards.

However, I think it's the game's sense of scale, as well as physics that make the game so much fun to play. You start out with a very small katamari, maybe the size of a beachball, and it grows bigger and bigger the more things you roll onto it. You'll be rolling up houses, ships and trees before you know it. When that happens, you'll be looking at the screen and going "HOLY SHIT!!" at the change in your surroundings. And when you roll up oddly shaped items like pencils and arrows that stick out at an angle of the katamari, the way the ball rolls will actually correspond to that, and it'd be a slower, bumpier ride until it evens out.

So anyway, I had in my hands the sequel to this game. I played it yesterday, and wow is it fun. It hasn't changed much from the original, sure, but it has added in a few new features. Like a 2 player mode where each player controls one side of the katamari. New levels that involve rolling the katamari around underwater and in space. And you find out why the King of All Cosmos is such a meanie to his son. Not sure what else is new, as I haven't spent too much time on it yet. Not to mention that the copy I have is in Japanese and I don't understand a word.

But what I would really really like to say about this game is....

I LOVE KATAMARI DAMACY!!

While smoking by my window, I can hear all sorts of drama unfolding. An elderly lady speaking Malay to a domestic worker from another home nearby. I assume by the way she speaks that she's elderly. From my window:

A man opens a door and says in Cantonese, "What are you doing?"

I don't know what she says, "dsfkjns ksfasdfkn."

"Lei mou lei la!" is the reply, which means "don't you bother la."

She mumbles something else, "askd ksjfas."

"Lei mou lei la!" her son (he sounds and looks young) or husband yells in a hostile manner. Followed by "yat cho yeh cho" which probably means "day and night just noise."

"LEI MOU LEI LAAA!" again from the son/husband.

She goes in and more yelling continue. He says the same thing. "Lei mou lei la!!" Repeatedly.

He's probably frustrated and tired of having his mother around. His tone was hostile and commanding, which might have led me to believe he was her husband, yet I think otherwise.

"LEI MOU LEI LA!"

So, I understand and appreciate that you might be concerned with the situation in which I'm unemployed and am currently seeking occupational fulfillment of any said experience.

With that said, I wish to carefully outline that insisting on my sending resume to familiar persons without any knowledge of what I do specifically, and disregarding anything that I say while referring me to case insistence (which means repeating over and over) will only aggravate my already-frustrated self.

However, I will do as you say for reasons of not only loving you, but also because you seem to have set up the whole thing for me already; I respect said initiative. I can either view it as: You being concerned for my welfare, or you thinking me a bum. Either which, I'm accepting of.

The blues of the unemployed: Concerned watchful eyes become commentful mouths. The trend these days is to constantly ask if you've procured a salary, or career to some of you. Constantly, meaning each time they see you. Along with those, are suggestions--and some of them are really good suggestions--of ways or people to get in touch with regarding procurement. Suffice to say that I'm so very appreciative of advice and the effort put in.

I went for an interview yesterday; sometime around the evening. Customer Support Analyst, being the applied position. It pays well (for a fresh graduate) and is according to U.K. timing. I'm looking for something other than that of a help desk. The question is: Should I just settle for it and work it out for a year (for a year... more like for the pay)?

No, I've yet to secure employment. I wish I wasn't so damn picky, therefore getting hired, thus having something different to say. "Actually, what are you looking for?" just won't do because I will never know what I want. Especially after finding what I want and then changing my mind, making me appear like a damned fool (again). Sooner than later, "I'm not too sure, perhaps something in the SAP/ERP line" will lose its weight, and won't cut it as an answer.

How embarrassing--for me--to have you know that I don't know at all what I'd like to get into specifically; only because I don't believe that we ever know. All I have with me is an instinct that drives me one direction, and banking on that for the meantime. Soul-searching? What are you talking about? Don't proceed to tell me that I might not be trying hard enough to make up things that I like doing! That's what you're practically doing with your "soul-searching."

My loving father, advises me to head towards the U.K. with little to no experience, exhibits concern, faith and confidence in me. My mother, on the other hand, questions me on when I will be returning to New Zealand; it's Kiwi-experience that they look for there and almost everyone makes the same amount of money no matter what you do. My grandmother suggested I go to Australia with her and seek further employment there. Even my eldest brother advises me on his ways of obtaining work, and in addition: Wanting to pay for my ticket to the U.K. I love my family very much for their concern and advice.

To myself, I come to sound more and more like an ingrate. I guess I can't blame myself if I misinterpret their advice to sound more like commands. However, I can't stop them from blaming me for not taking said advice. Whose advice should I pay priority to?

Na~ na na na~ na na na na~ na Katamari Damacy!

The sequel is out (albeit in Japanese), and anyone who owns a PS2 should go get the game :D It is the best game ever!

I paid a visit to the Bon Odori (Japanese Dance Festival) in Shah Alam over the weekend. It was held in a stadium/field. The stage was within the ring of the running track; 30x30ft square, and raised to about 15-20 feet high, so that everyone is able to view the dancers from afar (in order to mimic the dance that they performed).

Although they had paths in certain areas of the venue, most of the event was held on wet grass. So, wherever you walked, it was sure to be wet, or grass, otherwise: both. This was due to the rain that came down the night/afternoon before; an indicator to the coming rainy (monsoon, am I correct?) season. I might be wrong because I didn't feel like paying attention in Geography class that day--or was it another subject?

There was some type of soldiers around guarding the event in case of any foreseen/unforeseen mass hysteria, I imagine. They wore yellow berets and camouflage-like green, with boots. I bet they love Japanese girls, too. Who wouldn’t?

I think the soldiers were there to watch over the visitors; to make sure that they didn't smoke in the vicinity of the track and grass area. This is because smoking is not allowed and there was a designated smoking area near the also-designated portable (and public) lavatory area. Their portable pee-away's condition isn't the worst I've seen, but the wet floor in the units scare me. Afraid of the unknown, however, there is a chance it could have been water. In case you are imagining seating and ashtrays at the smoking area, you are sorely mistaken; they (the bon odori people) fashioned a bucket of water on the 'wet grass' as the final resting place of your cigarette.

I saw so many people in kimono or similar; from little boys/girls to ladies and gentlemen alike; all in their plain to flowery-designed kimono. They were everywhere and some weren't even Japanese. Two of my friends--twins--were wearing them, too. Yes, flower designs on their robes with the obi, or maybe it's called a different name.

Shortly after I got back from relieving myself at the portable pee-pee place, the dance started. Everyone then congregated at the center--where the stage was--and the dancing proceeded. Almost everyone was into the dance. The dances typically revolve counter clockwise and you would most likely end up on the opposite side of where you were initially.

The entire show with everyone dancing around the center--from afar and above--resembled the Hajj (pilgrimage in Makkah/Mecca), only a whole lot smaller in scale. I tried dancing along, but didn’t really put a whole lot of effort into it. A lady sings or recites something in Japanese that sounds like some poem or story and the people hit on the drums (taiko, I think they’re called), and the ladies in kimono on the stage wave their fans in some manner, and the spectators start to follow suit.

Everyone at the festival had fans. This was because they were handing them out at the entrances--copious volumes of them--resulting in the entire ring around the stage waving fans. The numbers would have been in thousands, but I don’t know how many thousand; probably just 2-3 thousand people attended (that’s about 8-12 thousand fans or more). It’s the first time that I’ve ever seen something like that before, “Mass order/synchronization wannabes”. Strangest part about it was when some kid decided that it would have been a good idea to use her fan to hit Ee Von on her head. She acted on her impulse, leaving me to be blamed for doing something so absurd.

The most dreadful bit: Queuing up for food. The lines were just staggering. Hordes of customers trying to be the nightmare of some poor kid that decided on working at the festival as a sushi boy. The takoyaki stand and the stand with a crazy lot of colourful pictures got it the worst; you can’t even see what they are selling; only these pieces of paper they hang above the stand as a menu.

I had the takoyaki and a drumstick of roasted chicken. They each cost RM6. A can of coke costs RM3 and a bottle of mineral water is RM2. Everyone’s trying to make some money. They even had beer, but I didn’t get some. I had to eat the chicken standing up with chopsticks while waiting for the takoyaki line o move; I gave up, and left it to Sze Wei.

Ee Von had found a Kodak 2 mega pixel camera. I was hoping she’d give it to me, but in the end, she returned it. Lost and found was all “sankyu! sankyu!” about it. I guess it was the right thing to do. You would have had pictures to see if we had done the not so correct thing. We walked up and down looking for the lost and found area. You should have seen the lengths we go to, to make sure that YOU get your camera back. In the end, I don’t think the loser (person who lost her camera) would have gone and collected it, leaving the camera in the hands of the lost and found to keep.

Overall, the festival was great albeit crowded, and a new sight and experience! I know it is a packed place to be in, but I would suggest/advise you to go and take a look and try something new if you’ve never been to one of these festivals before. However, if you’re allergic to long queues and touching people: You should stay at home and watch HBO on Astro; or if you don’t have Astro, go online and read about the event like you’re doing now.

Woke up to a bleeding nose; this time, it's the right nostril. I had an interview downtown before noon. It was a quarter passed eight. Twenty minutes later: Leaving home, for breakfast, and to also borrow a car to travel downtown with.

Not knowing the directions to Times Square let alone Amoda Tower, I get someone to draw me a map. The map appeared detailed: Buildings were named and drawn along with the streets. My favourite is the rectangle with the words "whore houses" inside it. Off to Bukit Jalil to obtain my degree and other transcripts followed by a return to K.L. city area. It's a quarter to eleven.

I managed to lose my way even with the map. I initially thought I was reading the map wrongly or that it was drawn wrongly; it wasn't. Turns out I missed the building when it was right there. Embarassing as that is. Spent a good half hour driving around all sorts of streets looking at bustling city dwellers at work and/or play. Eventually, I found my way back to the nearby street and saw the building that I had missed much earlier. It's a quarter passed noon. Perfect timing, moron!

I glide into the Amoda building with little difficulty in search of a parking spot that I did not find. I exit the Amoda building with just as little difficulty and enter Sungei Wang building's parking, situated farther down the road. I manage to find a parking spot. That place is always full of people regardless of the day you visit it. Half passed noon. Nice!

GMP, Global Manpower Professionals, if I'm not mistaken. Interview conducted; Selina (the interviewer) asked me whatever that was necessary and I asked whatever that came to mind at the time and a half hour or more later: interview completed. She was pretty and looked like how I pictured her (young and pretty, though unsure of her age) when we conversed over the telephone; a KBU graduate in Software Engineering. Apprehensive in inquiring about her occupation as a recruiter, so, I did not.

With nothing more, I therefore left said building wondering why I came down in the first place for she had not asked for any of my transcripts, though I showed it to her. The only thing I visited her for: A brief interview and a brief discourse on how to behave during an interview. Thank you, Selina! I believe I've met her before, but that's just how I am; I claim certain things without any basis. I left when it was approaching a half hour passed one.

abundant volume of motorcyclists in the city. Just itching to get hit by cars; they run lights and gather in groups in front of the car queue. They have an affinity to swerve into your lane, two feet away, while you're turning. I'm not going to invite him to my birthday party. Jackass! This happened on more than one occasion in the passed day.

After taking a walk around Sungei Wang Plaza, I take my leave back to the vicinity of P.J. to have lunch. Had my haircut at that inexpensive place in Ikano POWERCENTER!! Or something like that; returned the car, and had dinner, drinks, and the like.

Starting to work harder towards actually securing an occupation. I suppose it will be within a month or two before I'll have to bid farewell to days of doing-nothings and watching TV. Sooner/later-bounded. Now I'll have to change the whole "life of a fresh graduate" header on this web log.

Last Saturday I went out shopping at Mid Valley Megamall with a good friend of mine.While we were there we stopped by Diamond Platinum to admire the shiny, pretty things being displayed in the shop window, and the ever helpful assistant handed us a brochure. In it, among other things, were pretty rings, in matching sets of his and hers. Since my friend didn't want the brochure, I took it home with me.

When my boyfriend came over later, I showed the brochure to him. Look, I said. Such pretty rings.

He looked at me suspisciously and said,"Are you hinting something?"

"Of course not!," was my very indignant reply.

Well, that was a lie. I was trying to hint that in case you ever want to surprise me with one of these in the future, pretty please let it be one that is simple,elegant and understated in nature so that I may wear it out and happily coo about it to my friends and family without having to worry about getting robbed due to the size of the rock on my finger. Not to mention that it would show how much you understand me, and knowing that is worth so much more than the biggest precious rock money can buy.

Oh, and it would also help if the rings fits.

One thing I learned from The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

Slartibartfast = Slutty butt fest

*whistles innocently*

I was sleeping at the time when my brother called me. My grandmother woke me up to speak to him, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Something about what he said that kept not making sense. Eventually, I hung up or something happened because I don't remember.

As I read the email Joyce sent me, it becomes extra clear to me what he was trying to tell me: There was a bomb explosion in front of their house. I quickly typed "bbc.co.uk" into the web browser's navigation toolbar. There were terrible bombings that happened in London today--many were injured and some killed--thankfully my brother and Joyce are safe!
So, this is the bus that was chosen and it was right on their street. I was just speaking to him and he said that he could still hear sirens because they are trying ot keep the peace and maintain the havoc in the streets of London.

Joyce's brother lives on Wicklow Street--near Tavistock Square--where the bus bombing happened. My brother missed the bomb by 10 minutes. His friend, Neil, witnessed it.

"Joyce's brother is still in the streets", he says. Because the street is blocked up, not even residents can get in.

He might not go in to work tomorrow because the route he takes to work would most likely be blocked up.

Shortly through our conversation, he informed me that he was going to play Warcraft. "Time to pawn some heroes." It made me happy that the bomb didn't affect him that badly.

I'm just happy that they are safe from harm. I'll probably see this on the TV later. I can't imagine they would bomb the streets of London, and even worse is that it was so close to where my brother and Joyce lives. That's pretty shocking.

Two nights ago, while I was doing work on my computer, I heard a loud continous flapping noise outside my window. Startled, I turned to look, and right outside my window a poor, helpless moth was being attacked by a lizard. The moth was pretty big, but I guess that didn't stop the lizard. Well, I suppose I should mention that moths happen to gross me out, but at the same time I felt pity towards the poor creature. What was I to do? I could either leave nature to take its course, or help the poor guy out, no matter how icky I felt moths were.

So I ended up sitting on my chair, staring at the poor moth beating its wings on the mosquito net that covers my window for 5 minutes wondering what to do. To help? Not to help? To help? Not to help?

Then this question popped into my head: What if those Chinese legends are true, and that's one of my ancestors that have come to visit me?

I wish I could say that that thought jolted me into action, but sadly it didn't. After about 2-3 more minutes of watching the poor helpless moth I finally decided to go help. I shook the net for awhile and the lizard went away. The moth just sort of flopped down onto a windowpane, looking all lifeless.

Oh great, I thought. Now I have to get rid of its corpse. Ewww.

I went to the window and tried to adjust the windowpane so it would fall off it or something. But surprise, surprise! The moth actually moved a bit. So it wasn't dead after all.

I stared at the moth for awhile again, making sure that it really wasn't going to drop dead on me, while wondering, "Grandad? Is that you?". I left to go downstairs to get myself a drink, and later when I had come back up, the moth was gone.

An alarm clock goes off: he doesn't realise that the constant beeping is the sound of one radio clock screaming. 6:46 A.M. He goes back to sleep. Another goes off at 7:00 A.M. This time: he wakes up immediately; doesn't want to be late. He is no longer third party but is now me. This is where I come into place instead of the sleeper.

I thought it necessary to brush my teeth, though that hasn't really been a habit these passed few weeks. Might as well shave while I'm at it. Nine hours work for RM50 seems hardly worth it. I thought I was brushing my teeth... Washes face, wore my clothes from the interview on the previous day. Nine hours work for RM50 seems hardly worth it.

7:20ish: Time to call Chiew Wai to inform him that I'm awake, and to also wake him up in case he isn't. My hand moves for the phone when, at that very moment, it rang. It's Chiew Wai.

Me: Hola, como estas usted mi amor?
Chiew Wai: Si, amigo. Le migra is after me (kidding)

Kidding, side-tracked mind.

Me: Hello!
Chiew Wai: Eh! I don't think I'm going.
Me: What? Why?
Chiew Wai: Couldn't sleep till 5 A.M.
Me: Me, too.
Chiew Wai: Was considering the RM50 and it seems hardly worth it.

Shorter long story: He didn't want to go and wasn't going.

We agree that we have to call the interviewerman to let him know of our absence. We, then, made plans to eat breakfast about 40 minutes later. Till this moment, he has yet to call me. The post is dated on the 6th, but I didn't complete it that day--it is now 3 P.M. on the 7th.

8:20ish: I nearly forgot to call the interviewerman. Must be responsible; can't leave people waiting for you. AND because he had my number and was bound to call, otherwise I'd chosen the other way. I call him.

I chose the honest-appreciate approach.

Me: Hello, Mr. T (I'm actually omitting his name and not adding humour, I pity the fool), This is Chan Yew Seng from yesterday.
Him: Ah, Chan, where are you?
Me: I'm at home. I'm calling regarding today. I won't be able to make it...
Him (cutting me off): So, you don't want to do the job?
Me: No (it should be a yes), actually, I don't.
Him: What is your reason?
Me: I feel that I can get a better job, to be honest. The RM50 a day won't do... I hope you can appreciate me being direct and straight.
Him: Ok. Ok... (goes on about the pay)
Me: Yes. Ok. Thank You. Click.

Fortuitously fortunate was when a lady called and informed me to send her my resume because she has a few positions and needed to see my qualifications. I had not a real resume; just the one I'd printed from jobstreet. Time to get cracking. I have yet to send it to her. She called later when I deviated and went to watch TV. I shamefully opened my door and pretended as if I wasn't home.

I cannot believe I did something so ridiculous. For your comfort in knowing that I'm not such a dilly-dally-er, I'm currently working on it as you read. No, this is not my resume. It's a hot day! I'm looking outside. I don't want to write anymore.

RM50 per day for a five day week for two months or more, doing data migrational work (that's about RM1000 per month). According to the description given, I'm guessing I have to back up desktops and laptops. Curiously enough, there are servers involved, and that only means that it should be backed up centrally. I don't know what type of support they mean but I believe they'll cover that at the training.

We were sitting there doing the little IQ questions when this man... asked us who was first for the interview and whether we've completed the IQ paper yet. We didn't, of course. After all that, he said that the test didn't matter.

My neck hurts from having to nod at everything the interviewer said. At one point I think I stopped listening as he was briefing us. I figured out too late that the IQ paper was just a formality, and it was just there for the interviewee to pass time. This is because of my strong belief that the job was already mine before I spoke to him. He didn't ask anything about my knowledge regarding the work, leaving me to think that they were desperate, but not desperate enough to pay well enough (for suckers like us). However, I don't know the nature of the stress involved in the work, so all that's bothering me is the pay for the time.

The company has loads of plaques and awards decorating their mini hall outside the interview rooms. There were awards in the strangest shapes like pistols and the occasional framed or pewter ones. Most of the awards were transparent with names of the award-givers like Microsoft, Sun, APC, and others to name but quite unimportant at this juncture. The point is that those awards actually mean something. I've always wondered about those awards ever since I saw my father having so many of them. Alright, maybe not "always wondered", but at one point did. Do people actually remember and/or say, "They received the award for most lala eating company!"?

Unfortunately, I didn't say "No" or "I'll consider the job", putting me in a position to have to be there in a few hours to sort out the details.

Fortunately for me, Chiew Wai looked out for my back and introduced me to this interview. Yay for me! Yay for him! I'm a leech! Can't sleep now.

Enlightened friend says: Why do you want to kill everyone on top?
Whiterabbit wants to murder asshole drivers (me) says: Huh?
Enlightened friend says: It's in your name. Why do you want to kill everyone on top?
Whiterabbit wants to murder asshole drivers says: HUH??!
Enlightened friend says: Asshole drivers?
Whiterabbit wants to murder asshole drivers says: ?
Enlightened friend says: Sigh. Asshole drivers = people who do the fucking
Whiterabbit wants to murder asshole drivers says: ..................
Whiterabbit wants to murder asshole drivers says: EEEEEWWWWWWWW!!!!

Because my writing resembles a punctuation disaster, I am undergoing some reading into proper punctuation. Every sentence that I have written is now under scrutiny from myself.

I feel inept. I always knew that improper punctuation and grammar would be detrimental to my writing health but apparently, I'm not only abusing my punctuation, I'm disrespecting readers and I just can't have any of that.

So, to show that I have complete and utter respect for readers such as yourself or anyone like you, I've decided to keep the commas and apostrophes at a moderate.

Once upon a time ago, a friend told me a story about how she and her sister used to fight when they were kids. They had an argument and after that, decided to keep to themselves without having any communication with the other and as hard as they tried to stay out of touch with the other, they began to realise that they couldn't. That was when she realised that the opposite of 'love' is not 'hate', but 'indifference' and that has always stuck with me.

I was thinking of this story after finding out that she is in town at the moment. I should go say "hi" or something. I sort of had a crush on her. I feel so 17. Dear diary...

Keeping short - my words.

I first proposed this idea to a friend during that period of time when reports of snatch thefts appeared in the newspaper on a daily basis. I was bored, and crazy ideas tend to pop into my head when I'm bored. So anyway, I came up with this idea: females make very good robbers. And why is that so? Well, let us take a look at this scenario:

First, what you need: 1 sexy, good-looking female specimen, with huge breasts, and an accomplice, preferably also female, so they wouldn't stop to gape at the wrong moment (we'll get to this later)

Then, the plan: Find a target (a male one, obviously), and wait for target to move to a deserted area. Then get the sexy, good-looking female with huge breasts to walk up to him, and flash her breasts at his face. While he's busy gaping at her chest, the accomplice will run up behind him and knock him unconscious with an object. Then they both rob him of whatever he has and leave.

So why do I think this plan will work? Simple! Just imagine what happens aterwards: Victim wakes up, realizes he's been robbed, goes to police station to file a report.

Officer: What does she look like?
Victim: *holds out hands* She was THIS BIG!!!
Officer: Uhh, ok...*writes down* Robber is female, and big-sized....
Victim: No, no, she's HUGE!! Umm, I mean, her breasts are huge.
Officer: ...... OK, robber is female, and has huge breasts. So what does she look like?
Victim: *looks confused* Huh?
Officer: *sigh* Her face. What does her face look like?
Victim: *silence* Uh, I don't know, I wasn't looking at her face.....

There you go :D Good idea, innit?

It started at SS2's al fresco (open-aired) mamak; We started wondering about the old man that used to walk around marketing his lala (shellfish) and other varieties of seafood, and according to Shao Ming, also porridge. This happened right after the Tom Yam guy didn't give us a discount after I gave him one of my Dunhill Top Leaf cigarettes. Moreover, left the poor Shao Ming with so few pieces of chicken.

"So, where is he?" you ask?
A: Shao Ming believes that he is dead. I agree with no conviction.

(The "A:" is for "Assumption.")

The truth: We don't really know. We both remember that he liked fooling around and was slightly crazy, which was where all this crazy talk originated from. I was telling him how on one occasion, he tapped my shoulder and when I turned to look, there was no one there and almost immediately he tapped the other one and it goes on like that. I supposed that he enjoyed the bewildered look on the face of strangers. He, too, recalls this and started briefing me in on how he used to just take those trays that the workers there used to keep track of cigarette sales, and threw them off the table! Off the table! For no apparent reason. As in your table.

Is that normal? How do we know?

Then we went off to Dharoos and ran into Zing, Charmaine, Sow and Leonard there. We chatted on hitch hiker's guide to the galaxy and all that and also about starlight cinema tickets and the unrelative. Soon after, they left and we started talking about crazy people again--this time about relatives--ours. It turns out that he has a schizophrenic aunt. Then it came to me that he had told me this before--his aunt's behaviour and the things she did--and how she is doing better after having gone to church. They call that the divine magic touch because she is getting better, even without the drugs.

Can that be considered 'crazy'?

My grandmother is sort of like that, too. But I won't call her crazy. She collects empty bottles and containers. Not rare kinds or anything that merits the collection whatsoever--just any sort of container that can hold something in the future. I've never seen her use any of these containers before. One time when I was helping her move, I opened her drawer to find several unused containers that she had been saving for a rainy day. I don't know what to think of it. I believe my father thinks she's crazy and I don't know how the rest of my family feels because so far my father has been the only one to have commented on it.

My other grandmother is more paranoid than crazy. Just earlier she was telling me how my unfixed car window could lead to me getting in serious trouble (with the police, I assume) if someone decided to leave suspiciously incriminating things in there (I don't know what.) To the effect of only getting me in trouble. The other time when I was going to cover my window with a black plastic bag that is normally used for garbage--and she started yelling in Cantonese about how the cops will come and get me if I cover up the window. I was so helpless and at a loss of words that only my blank stare filled the sound.

All in cantonese:
Grandmother: What are you doing?
Me: Getting a bag to cover up my broken car window.
Grandmother: Pei mata lai ga!!! (You'll get arrested by the cops!!!)
Me: ... (thinking to myself, "...")

I don't think you can call this crazy. But it's worth a shot. Don't get me wrong! I love my grandmothers and relatives. Family is family, but what do you say to that!?

I have another story of a person's crazy siblings but I don't think I'm allowed to divulge so much. Thing is that there are quite a number of them out there, apparently. I'm sure there are many out there with crazy stories. I have more but for another time.

Moving on from the crazy topic, Shao Ming suddenly starts talking about the tennis match on the TV and on how hot the tennis player was. I don't know who she is. She won the Wimbledon Championship last year.

Him: She's damn tall. Everything else of hers would be bigger.
Me: Longer la?
Him: Bigger is longer la. Same thing! Everything would be larger, even the vagina.
Me: So,
Him: I still wouldn't mind having her la. But she'd be crazy to want me back.
Me: You'd be crazy to want a crazy girl!

So, how would we find out who's crazy? We can't. Everyone is a candidate at the rate this is going. A simple stool test would do.

I then pointed out that the stool next to mine has a hole in the center, like many other stools, and it could fit two fingers in. I proceeded to bring the stool halfway up on the table and tried persuading him to fit his two fingers in. I did that several times.I suppose that's how you can tell if someone is crazy or not--a stool test. I proceeded to toy with his embarassment for people looking at me for putting the stool on the table and insisted he put his two fingers in the hole. Of course, he didn't. He's used to all the silly things I do now, anyway.

Am I a candidate for 'crazy'? I'm more confused now on what people consider crazy.