Life's Hidden Lessons

They say life teaches you along the way in the most unsuspecting ways in our daily lives. You just gotta stop, take notice and acknowledge it along the way. But are we taking in the right lessons from the right situations? As menly men as we men are, do we also get lost in translation when life itself is trying to tell us something and we go “uh-huh…uh-huh, that’s great honey.”. Then when challenged to explain what it is we were just presented with…we spin a story so way off that she just submits and goes away.

I believe I’ve had the privilege of noticing life’s little lessons along the way. Whether they’re right or wrong, or whether the message got totally misconstrued by yours truly, and my guardian angel goes “Ok, that’s it, I’m requesting for a transfer. Good luck, you retard.” – It’s totally up to me. MY experiences, and therefore I GET TO INTERPRET IT IN ANY WAY I’D LIKE TO.

For example, on a badly planned trip to a beach resort on the East Coast last month, I noted that things that are built beautifully to capture and enjoy the sun, becomes one of the shittiest piece of architecture in the rain. See? Genius.

It doesn’t matter how far, how fast, or how hard you jog, bike, run on Sunday mornings. If the direction is headed towards a nasi lemak stall for tapau-ing, you might as well stay in bed and find out exactly where that scrotum itch was coming from last night.

No matter how accurate virtual City Golf at BSC is, you can never invent a mobile table with La Bodega snacks and booze to attach to your golf buggy to take to a real golf course. Hence your crappy scores in real life.

You can never make Maggi Goreng at home that’s as good as any mamak stalls out there.

No matter how many brands of kicap you buy and try, none can match the way the one at your local kopitiam make the half boiled eggs taste so good.

Vampires have replaced the Jews running the movie industry. And they’re conditioning mankind for a global takeover with an ongoing ‘vampires are sexy’ campaign.

There are only 2 ways to dispose of a cigarette butt the manly way : flicking to a challenging target and nailing it spot on, or stubbing it out with a few hard rubs into an ashtray while gruffly ending your conversation with a punchline. Any other methods are for fags smoking fags.

Beware of men who keeps whining the’yre size is not big enough. Means they’ve been checking out other men’s schlongs since they sound like they had a lot to compare with. Possibly yours, too.

It doesn’t matter if you play in the woods half naked with other men. If you can change into a big ass werewolf while jumping in mid air, no one will question you.

So you see guys, it’s not always a matter of perspective. But it is always a matter of OUR perspective. Carpe diem and seize the day they say. The question is, are you going to seize whatever they say you should be seizing, or should we all spice it up a bit and navigate our way through life with our own custom set of google-goggles? Either way, there’s a lesson to be picked up at every corner. But it depends on what you’re willing to learn.

And here comes the end of the first quarter of 2011 already. Have a good March chaps.

Be My Valentine

Love is in the air! Seems like a small consolation after finding out how small that bonus figure looked like in your January payslip. But who cares right? All you need is love, tad-tadadat-taaaa…love, love is all you need….

Wrong.

I remember what it was like on Valentine’s Day when I was an SAE back in my advertising days (Single And Eligible, not Senior Account Executive). 12 years later I bet my bottom dollar that time, technology and even the Suzuki Cup have done very little to change what the average Joe goes through during V-day.

If you’re single, it’s time to get yourselves a willing Valentine’s Day date. How? Simple. Just be funny, strong, gentle, respectful, career oriented, chivalrous, smart, witty, boy next door, chiseled, muscular, chubby and get an eight-pack set of abs. Done deal, no sweat - Unless you hit a minimum of 6 of those criterias, just go out with your (pri)mates, order 2 graveyard shifts and hope that one of your drunk dials will score you a free pass to some unfortunate colleague/highschool mate/uni mate/ mate’s ex gf’s rumpus room.

If you’re dating someone, start by logging on to your Maybank2u.com account and weep inconsolably for 5 minutes. After which, start Googling on “creative ways to surprise her on Valentine’s Day” (read: “V-Day ideas for the credit-challenged twat”) . But in all honesty, your girlfriends will tell you it’s not about the money. It’s the thought that counts. Like surprising her. With a blindfold. And a plane ride to a secret location. Which hopefully (she bemuses) is a secluded hilltop villa with spa packages in tow. Or a marriage proposal from the heart. The same heart that was wise enough to reason with yourself that if she was really worth it, you’d get her that 3 carat piss-in-your-pants yellow diamond to show her just how much you know that money is no object, and that it’s the thought that counts - Her thoughts, as long as you subliminally obey.

If you’re married, start your V-Day planning by throwing away your Sport Rims catalogue, Stuff magazine’s “2011 gadgets to look out for “ issue and delete HTC.com from your Google Chrome bookmark. Then choose any of the 4 B’s – Bling, Bag, Blooming.com.my or Bali. Failure to do so will result in you getting your own dose of 4B’s – Blue balls, Baby Duty, Berleter and Bo-Layan.

Though there are many theories on where and how Valentine’s Day originated from, here’s one very likely version that men-kind are probably beginning to believe…

“ Valentine's Day was manufactured in order to displace the pagan holiday Feast of Lupercalia, an honor to the Goddess Juno - the Goddess of women and marriage. During the festival, women would write billets (love letters) and leave them for men to draw – lottery style”.

Happy Valentine’s Day and good luck! (And God help us all).

The Guy’s Guide to New Age Xmas Glossary Terms for Festive Hook-ups

Christmas is in the air! How can we tell with no white xmas to even dream off in this god awful hot & damp weather, though? In Malaysia it’s easy enough. Just walk by any major departmental store to get updated on what festive season is happening soon. Whether Hari Raya, Deepavali, CNY or Christmas, it’ll be there,displayed on a huge banner right before the word “SALE”.

But let’s be honest for a minute. Festive season was never really a fair trade for the boys. I mean, what do we blokes get out of it? (aside from the themed parties at the eve of each one). TV channels get bombarded with everything from circus freaks to sappy epic chick flicks. We always end up having to buy something for someone. And compound that with being stuck on the highway for hours just to get our asses back to mom and pops to get an earful about how we should get married before our sperm count depletes to zero or we turn blind from doing the one handed dragon boat race in the loo.

So single boys, for this Christmas, no matter what race or religion you are, rejoice! Turn that frown upside down and spend this years’ our way. Your way. Naughty or nice, here’s an updated glossary of Christmas terms to dig into while you’re already lighting up that cigarette to list down your game plan in turning that Ho-Ho-Ho into Hoh-Hoh-Hoes!

1. Single Bells

Family reunions? More like a wake up call to sad, furtive and over enthusiastic single women out there looking for some TLC. Select deserving candidates from your little black book, buy ANY present and get your Santa costume ready for some appreciative role play “thank you for thinking about me” session

2. Santa’s Clause(s)

Boyfriends beware of invitations to ‘dine with the family’. Your future romps may depend on stamps of approval from Ane, Che-che, Mummy or Appa.

3. Boxing Day

The morning after that big party you had at Jimmy’s and woke up next to Dottie, the (much) larger cousin of the girl you were hitting on before that last egg nog. Where you literally had to box your way out of the bedroom to find an escape route.

4. Christmas Carol

Title betrothed to the one who got nailed at the office party.

5. Getting A Christmas Three

Title betrothed to the dude that scored TWO Christmas Carols at the office party. At the same time. On the same copier.

6. Nativity

Romping with the local natives. Getting acquainted with your parent’s neighbors’ “My, she’s practically a young lady now!” daughter at the family reunion back in Ipoh.

7. Santa’s Workshop and your North Pole

Getting your North Pole into Santa’s Workshop will require credit card, advanced candle light dinner reservations and something glittery.

8. Ebeneezer Screwed

Finding out too late that your ghosts of girlfriend past was right, your ghost of girlfriend present sucks and the ghosts of girlfriends of the future are nowhere to be found.

9. The 3 Wise Men

Trying to score a Christmas romp? Always rely on the Three Wise Men : Habib, Heineken and Hilton (Okay, Heineken wasn’t a man)

10. Silent Night, Hoe-ly Night

What happens when your Christmas leave wasn’t approved, all your hot female friends are out of town, and you had to fork out an extra RM150 for a happy ending.

Tickboxes

I think Ludicrous literally encapsulated the one and only request men ever had in fulfilling their dreams : A Lady On The Streets, And A Freak In The Bed. Simple right? Of course. We’re guys. We like to keep it simple.

But what about what the ladies want? In any given women’s magazine, the list of criterias are rarely lesser than 5 points. Caring, funny, adventurous, stable, great smile, g

ood teeth, clean nails, short hair, long hair, bad boy, good career, abs, car etc. There’s something about women and ticking boxes.

I wonder if us guys ever had our tickbox moments. As simple as we want things to be (read : first paragraph) – I still believe unknowingly, we had our tickbox moments. But those moments were for specific situations, specific locations and specific agendas only. Not life-defining moments. But important ones none the less. Here are some examples:

FIRST DATE

1. Boobies

a. Same as Facebook picture

b. Slightly smaller (may be compensated by cicrumference of derriere)

2. Breath

a. Kissable (good)

b. Last night's Tequila (even better)

3. Walking

a. Sways hips sexily (good)

b. Causes whiplash to passers by (keep)

4. Attire

a. Low neckline (score on 2nd date)

b. Turtleneck (save money - requires Vodka for 2nd date)

IN THE CLUB

1. Boobies

a. Real Cleavage

b. Padded

2. Drink

a. Vodka-Ribena (6/10)

b. Cocktails (4/10 = Expensive cock-tease)

c. Beer (8/10 = Cheap date, but may lead to excessive burping during romp)

d. Whisky Coke (9/10)

e. Tequila Shots (10/10)

3. Dance

a. Dances like a stripper when drunk (10/10)

b. Dances like a stripper when sober (1000/10)

4. Entourage

a. Hot friends (send bottle over)

b. Surrounded by fugitives from Jabatan Imigresen Malaysia (buy only her, a drink)

5. Accommodation

a. Own apartment (score!)

b. Shares with hot housemates, also in club (send 5 bottles over, and re-enact moves from last 3some video by memory)

So is there a CLEO magazine in all of us? Hard to tell, but one thing’s for sure, no matter how much ticking in we do, boys and girls, or for whatever reasons they may be (future husband, flava of the month, something for the weekend) – our list of demands will never be satisfied as we go tickbox our way through life. Embrace what you have for the whole, which is greater than the sum of its parts. Even though that part DOES look bigger in her Facebook picture J

I came, I saw, I conquered.

I don’t eat my food. I devour it. I destroyed a perfectly arranged lasagna at Alexis 2 days ago. Prior to that, I obliterated a row of lemangs. Just tonight I raped and pillaged a cluster of broiled beef ribs, mac & cheese and mashed potatoes.

Probably it was just me shaking off the fasting month vibe. The month of Eid is shaping up to be a vicious vendetta against our all too frail souls.

If the month of Ramadhan was when Muslims crushd their worldly indulgences, the month of Eid is when Malaysians gather and show the world around them what indulgence really looks like.

If during the fasting month we observe the gratitude of the abundance of food we are blessed with, in the month of Eid we celebrate that triumph by staging what could rival a world food programme warehouse in the guise of our “open house”

And hence my past weekends have been a series of plundering and destruction. My fork and spoons were my weapons, sometimes cold steel, sometimes flimsy white plastic. Plates and bowls end up being a bloody battleground, most times with horrible remnants of what looked like a massacre of biblical proportions.

Like a despot general, I build and annihilate. Like crafting the perfect bomb with megatons of explosive power, so was my focus in crafting the perfect ABC (much to the annoyance of young freelance catering waiters) before destroying it in an avalanche of slush and slurpiness.
In the heat of the season’s tantric homage to food, even a quiet dinner for two turned out to be the French inquisition for my Gambretta (with add-on topping of anchovies!) pizza. Three quarters of the way into the ordeal, I could swear it was begging me for penance. Before I doused a final splash of fiery Tabasco liquid on it and tore it limb from limb.

For the sake of our cholesterol and sugar levels, I pray this month goes by as quickly as it arrived. Not because I’ve lost the meaning of Eid. But because I fear we’re all starting to interpret things in our own quirky, misguided way, as usual. Being Malaysian, we tend to romanticize the wrong things. And then get overboard doing it.

Like that politician that had a mild coronary at a “kambing and durian” makan event. I mean, come on?! Kambing AND Durian????

Happy open housing folks….at least they now launched the new “Halia” flavoured Eno!

If it's called "Fast"ing, why do we slow down?

A good friend of mine posted this question on Facebook in the first week of the Fasting month. Being a newly-converted Muslim, this, in my opinion was a very astute, and arguably fascinating observation.

No eating and no drinking from sun up to sundown. That’s the easy part. Fasting is also supposed to be fasting of the soul. Hence no bitching, hissing or squealing of any kind, and yes guys, no stiffy in the office.

Arguably, any hot blooded male can tell you that when you’re not intentionally looking, that’s when the scenery around you just gets gosh darned better. Everything starts getting tighter, sheerer, curvier. Damn*t, how does one distract himself?

Maybe some surfing time over lunch, just to avoid the receptionist’s tight new kebaya. But your fingers automatically type Katherine Bell, that chick you remembered from your JAG days, and you hit Safe Search Off. Nope, batal puasa.

Okay, Plan B. Some casual catching up on friends in Facebook. When you suddenly find yourself scouring through an old classmate’s “Bali Trip 2009!” album. Abort…abort!

Gotta get the edge off but you can’t smoke.

Gotta tell someone but you’ll only wind up talking about what you ‘could have seen’ and end up debating on the circumference of Kim Karadhsian’s derriere.

Finally, it’s 430pm and you’ve pretty much gone close enough o the edge without letting your eyes and mouse clicking fingers pay the deposit for your reservation in purgatory. Gotta get outta the office. Maybe look for some grub for Buka Puasa at the pasar on the way home.

And if you’ve been to a pretty good pasar Ramadhan, you’ll probably think that’s where the inspiration for R. Kelly’s “bump and grind” came from. Grab a couple of kuehs and you zip right outta there, head down, grasping to whatever inch you have left of your purity.

So guys, fasting doesn’t necessarily mean slowing down what makes us tick. C’mon, you’re no hypocrite. But in true zen-like fashion, you can treat this month as your personal training period to appreciate, hold it in, and move along. And be that kinda guy. A little pervy, but still that kinda guy.

Have a good soul diet and a happy Hari Raya to all our Muslim friends!

Merdeka!

Let’s relate ourselves to history guys. Our country’s history. In so many ways, a blokes passage in life has been chartered in the course of Malaysia’s past, and doomed to repeat itself.

It all started with Parameswara claiming our northern states and setting up his empire. Exotic, raw and intriguing to the locals, as so we were after donning on our dark green school pants for the first time, and realizing that y-front scuba brand underwear that Mama bought from Mun Loong is not a good cover-up for what you and friends now call “stim”. We wanted to pitch tents and start conquering unchartered lands.

Then the Portuguese came to Melaka and brought with them funny words in funny music like jingling nona. Awkward as that time may be, reminiscent of our awkward nights in Boom Boom Room, Spinning or Base 2 (Yow Chuan) – trying to look 18 wearing Cross Colors oversized t shirts. All I wanna do summa zoom zoom zoom anda pom pommm….was just as weird as the culture brought into our shores by those clock tower building, funny name giving (Stadthuys???) traders down South in Melaka. But dance we did, and funny slangs we spoke, and got our share of A Famosa’s.

Then the English came to teach us some decorum. Whipping the savages that we are into shape. Much like a steady girlfriend at Uni. Maturity and stability. Pre-med credentials outweigh your earlier skills of drinking Pelican pre-mixed vodka while doing the Macarena at Modesto’s. We were taught to ingest continental breakfasts instead of the usual touch and go buffet lines. That is until….

The Japanese landed! Just like the time when we realized there are more women outside of campus for the first time. In kamikaze like fashion, we were thrown off balance in the corporate world. Hot female bosses enslaved us in tight MNG work attires. Being a whipping boy in the office further enhanced our inferiority complexes, which are duly released in the form of binge drinking and sleeping with anything that doesn’t resemble a pad with wings or panty liner.

Communism swiftly ensues, and completely drags us back to the dark ages of doing things for the “common good” – which translates into living together and her training you to be of “good husband material”. And not long before…

The English comes again in the form of “the understanding one that was right under our noses the whole time” – Mutual benefits and a few ribbing and courtships and negotiations later, formed a marriage of cooperation that seemingly sets us free in knowing that the future looks so promising and that you once again, are a fulfilled, and liberated man with everything he could ask for…

Which brings us to today, just finding out that we’re still secretly the house b^tch who only THINKS he wears the pants in the house….but she’s the one that chooses which ones were allowed to wear.

Happy Independence, chaps!