20th switchback and another 10 to go...Are We There Yet???

Fresh from watching stage 1 of the 10^th LTdL on NTV7, Roadie attacked the peloton at the beginning of the 19km Sempah climb only to blow his gasket at the 5km mark.

With the voices of the gods of cycling commentators, Phil Leggert and Paul Sherwin still ringing in his ears, Roadie shifted up to the big crank and hammered the pedal just 500 meter in to the climb. The cries of ‘assassin! assassin!’ from the riders he left behind further fuelled his fire.

Unfortunately, just like Jean Alesi’s Ferrari in the early 90s, Roadie’s heart refused to do its job after redlining past the 190 heart bits per minutes one too many times. The peloton caught up and passed him after 5 10 minutes.

One km later, a pack of vicious stray dogs came out of nowhere and chased the stuttering Roadie. Getting chased by mad dogs when going uphill would scare the bollocks of Lance Armstrong. Images of the face of a reindeer being eaten by wolves on Discovery Channel did not help either.

Roadie remembered the advice given to him by an old timer. ‘If you feel you can’t outrun them, stop on the side of the road and fight them like a man. Dogs sense fear and would attack you if you are feeling vulnerable’. But Roadie is not a boy, not yet a man. So he summoned the spirit of Marco Pantani and simply pedaled furiously, wailing at the same time. A passing timber lorry descending the opposite direction was the savior. Roadie could have been doggie lunch meat.

p/s Once a year I feel like committing murder. Hasbullah Awang has been commenting the LTdL on TV1 as long as I can remember. Annoying and irritating does not even begin to describe him. He does not have a clue about cycling, got his facts all wrong all the time. He thinks cycling is like a dog race and approached it that way. To have Leggert and Sherwin this year is like having Maya Karin whisper naughty things to you at 3 in the morning. Sweet heavens. Don’t believe me tune to NTV7 at 3.30pm.

The JAWI raid on a popular club last week has caused quite a stir among the deviant Malays here in KL. It is the topic of conversation wherever I go, even in the bloody bicycle shop. Everyone is talking about it. Two year jail sentence and/or RM3,000 fine for consuming alcohol is definitely something to think about.

My friends are worried. Soros, a regular clubber, is thinking to settle down and raise a family. I don’t know which is scarier, Soros the monogamous dotting father or discourteous Jawi officers. My girlfriends, instead of buying clothes in MNG are buying lingerie in La Perla and possibly a tub of Vaseline. ‘What else can my boyfriend and I do but dinner and sex in the weekend’, they reasoned. Those without partners are opening accounts in Friendster and Myspace, calling up their exes for good measure. How come my exes are not calling me up? (Note to self: Coz they despise you?)

Cheongsam Party Boys (Malay boys who goes for Chinese girls) are preparing for tough times ahead. My friend GK has resigned to the fact that he needs to adapt, ‘tempoyak girls pon tempoyak girls lah’.

The owners of the once trendy DV8 in Petaling Jaya are celebrating Chinese New Year early. Ah Beng places like Sunway Pyramid are said to be stocking up. This would all end if JAIS decide to get busy.

At the bicycle shop, a mountain biker joked: ‘The fashion police and JAWI should do a joint Sunday raid on road cyclists in their figure hugging lycra for bad taste and indecent exposure’. Taking into account most roadies are middle age orang tua tak sedar diri and pot bellied, he does have a point.   

Lastly, even my father had a say. ‘Well son, this doesn’t concern you. You have nothing to worry about. Right?’ and I replied, ‘Absolutely…’.

It is a thoroughly entertaining movie. My only gripe is that I was sweating buckets under the duvet. Well this happens when you are sick with a common some strange virus. I feel slightly disappointed that it didn’t turn out to be Denggi. It makes me feel like a little wussy who get sick all the time. Anyway, here is what I think of the movie.

• 
  
  Recommended viewing for people who fucked and got fucked in relationships.


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  It is a story about modern relationships. What makes it interesting is that we have gone through some of the emotions showed by the main characters in the movie. Deja vu... I think I said the same think in my Before Sunrise and Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind entries. How original... 


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  The dynamics of a relationship between boy and girl is rather simple. People are fallible and therefore shit happens. Sometimes.


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  Ocean Deep, it is pointless to analyze and scrutinize yourself and/or your partner when things don’t work out. Unless of course, one wants to use it as a form of amusement at the dinner table in the company of fellow 30somethings on a Saturday night. (this is actually a note to myself....)

I am going off topic here. This is my observation……When in your twenties, its cool to talk about sexual conquests but makes one sound rather inadequate talking about the same topic when one has reached the thirty superhighway e.g., “What? You are still fucking around? 

I have a funny feeling I am completely incoherent and will delete this post come tomorrow.

Just got off the phone talking to a friend…. Last Wednesday her night ended rather abruptly at Zouk - Mumbo Jumbo Nite. The popular club was raided by JAIS. Most of the Muslim patrons were arrested and bundled into a truck and taken away.  This friend of mine was not arrested as she is not a Muslim, so there is no stories about where those people were taken and how long. The poor sods. What Zouk to do with all the unclaimed Chivas bottles left behind?

Excuse my silly ignorant arse, but did they break the law by drinking alcohol? If yes, how severe is the punishment? And for the fairer sex, do you break the law by dressing in a revealing way? If yes, what are the minimum clothes required not to break the law? And what happen if you break the law?

For starters, that is the last place you would find me on Wednesday nights. I have to consider moving to the only corrupt place left in this country…. The Borneo. While I am there I’ll pick up a local dialect or two. For that I need to get me a Sleeping Dictionary. I am sure there’s lots of Selimas running around the place. Perhaps move in next door to Hansac…

Sorry for not updating and not replying to the comments left in previous post. What I thought was yet another bout of flu might turn out to be a lot worse. I did a blood test this morning and I will know if I have Denggi (yellow) fever later today.

Five days of high fever is no fun. I am convinced the mosquito that bit me was a Japanese woman in its previous life as I developed a sudden craze for sashimi and sushi with lots of wasabe.

Thank god I have personal health insurance. My insurance agent who is a dear friend  reads this blog. I promise I’ll pay you on time from now on if you tell me how to get my wrinkly arse in to an Ampang Putri suite all paid for by Prudential?!??!   

Inspired by The Visitor and Mira K’s encounters with the supernatural.

It was beginning of summer, after an all nighter at the student bar, my friends and I went back to my flat for a post party chill out drinks i.e., last chance to hail the shag bus.

My flat mate took out our trusted Ouija board for the old scam on the French au pairs.

****

The old scam was simple. Duvet on each sofa, fake fireplace switched on, Billie Holiday or Bessie Smith in the back ground and cheap Bulgarian wine to go. Looking back I must say it was a decent scam. One has to be enterprising when one drives a Mini identical to Mr. Bean’s instead of a Golf GTI in college.

****

Unfortunately on that fateful day the scam didn’t work. It was summer. Sun was up and about. It was warm and bright at 5 in the morning.

We both realized it i.e., no point waiting at the bus stop coz the shag bus ain't coming (today), and decided to play the game for real. I opened the window after half a dozen attempts at contacting the spirit(s). We figured the spirit needed to get in through somewhere.

After a dozen attempts we gave up and I said out loud in frustration,

“hey why don’t you entertain us and move the bloody coin around, you wanker”

At about 7 in the morning, our visitors left and I went to my room to sleep. My room was in the basement and it doesn’t get any light. Its pitch dark when the lights are off no matter what time of day it is.

After a couple of hours of sleep, I was awakened by a strange feeling. I felt feverishly cold. I sensed someone entered my room and was walking down the stairs. I opened my eyes and saw a tall dark figure, like a shadow, looking down on me. He/she was standing under the staircase at the corner of the room.

I called my flat mate out loud but he was fast asleep. I was so afraid I could have pissed in my boxers. It then took a few steps towards me. I recited a few basic prayers e.g., Bismillah.

It kept walking towards me. It sat on the worktable next to my bed. I then used my big guns e.g, al fatihah and qul verses. That worked. Freddy Kruger wannabe did not  move towards me. But when I got tired and stopped reciting, it moved and sat on my chest. When I retaliated (by reciting those verses), it move itself back to the worktable.

This went on for a long time and I got tired and said something which I regretted very much,

“mo-fo, is that the best you can do?”

I was pushed so hard that my head sunk into the pillow. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like the earth was on the verge of opening up and swallowing me. I tried reciting the Quran verses but it came out all jumbled up and wrong.

I remember till today my exact words uttered to that thing,

“Okay you win. You are strong. I am weak. I apologize to you. I will never do it again. I am sorry”.

It turned around and left. I can even sense the exact moment it left the flat. I didn’t want to take any chances, so I crawled into my flat mate’s room and lied under his bed. I told him what had happened and he just shrugged it off,

“Stupid Asian.......You and your goddamn ghosts”.

p/s Two years later he backpacked across South East Asia hoping to see ghosts. He met many transvestites but no ghost.

....... my ability to D.I.Y. I started stripping the paint on one of the main wall and am now stuck. Two metal spatulas are now blunt, quite an alarming rate of spatulas considering I have only managed to strip off a quarter of the area and in patches.

Should I try using a solvent to remove the paint? Or should I just get some white paint and apply it as base, followed by two layers of the orange paint? Would 3 layers be enough to make it look even? Should I end my agony and call the professionals?

I had some work in Kemaman and now I am home. It is good to back :-). I browsed through the usual weblogs with the same excitement as I go through soccernet.com and cyclingnews.com on a Monday morning. Am I a blog addict? I don’t know.

****

I am doing up my room. I have bought 10 litres of paint. I am going to paint the wall orange then replace the marble floor with birch wood, before it gives me arthritis. The marble floor gets really cold at night.

I am still undecided about the bed though. Should I spend a few thousand ringgit on a new bed? A friend once told me, a good bedroom can act as your third hand in undressing (preferably) a female guest.

The right size is very important. King size bed if you are married or have a live in partner; queen size bed when you have someone sleeping over occasionally; and single bed if you are in college.

A friend suggested I get a bigger TV as well. I think 25” is good enough no? I hardly watch the telly and watch at best, 3 DVDs a week. I might consider it if a big 'idiot box' acts as a ‘fourth hand’.

Anybody interested buying A1 size poster(s) with metal frame non reflective glass of

1. Miles Davis


2. John Coltrane


3. Dexter Gordon


4. Chet Baker


5. Rare 2 x Billie Holiday (A3 size)

I’ll post the photos of the posters in my room in my photoblog.

A New Year's Whine

An astonishing 1-2 away win in Jakarta. Have you been to Senayan Stadium? It’s like in Fenerbahce. The kretek munching fans would eat you alive over there. Now we know the bookies are networked with the Indonesians.

At Bukit Jalil Stadium, Malaysia break at half time with a goal lead and 2 goals advantage, only to bottle it in the second half letting in four goals. Even Man City couldn't collapse as fast.

We all know where football bookies are from? Why cant they be patriotic and let us win just this once? Bastards. In protest, I am not buying pirated DVDs for a month.

****

My mom's old microwave oven finally broke down after 23 years of service. I removed it to the garbage compartment to make way for a new one and shed a tear ....

yes, the damn thing weighs a fraction lighter than an elephant. How can something so small weighs so much. It shared quite a few components with the old U.S.S.R submarine. God help the garbage collector tomorrow.

I spent New Year’s eve at a friend’s wedding. It had a seven course meal, an open bar and a 4-piece band. What more can a middle aged man ask for?

The bride and groom donating half the ‘ang pow’ proceed to Red Cross. That doesn’t surprise me. Although the groom is a perennial drunk, he is the most generous person I’ve ever met.

Put a dozen Grago together and you have a party. Imagine a Grago wedding on New Year’s eve! It was mayhem. In a merry sort of way that is.  Bride and groom parents danced on stage and later on main dining table. Everyone danced, and I do mean everyone from 5 year old cousin to 85 year old grandparent.

The groom spoke more on the stage than the emcee. And when the band played Bee Gees, everyone faced the stage and formed 4 rows and did the Saturday Night Fever dance routine. It was amazing. I suspect they do not need alcohol or drugs to have a good time. Their friend, relative, family was getting married and they were just thrilled about it.

The rest of us sad bastards need lots of alcohol and drugs to have a good time. Some of us need to be pissed drunk to usher the New Year. We need that feeling of euphoria or the night would be a forgettable one.

*****

Some of the young ones felt edgy when the prime minister requested that public celebration like outdoor concerts and fireworks be cancelled. They dispute his reason and question his authority. I understand that when you are young you tend not to see the big picture, but inability to understand simple words like ‘request’ and translating it to an order?

The need to party the night away is the most important thing and non-negotiable and called everyone who does not agree with their views, judgemental.

Hello! Nobody were stopping you lot from doing anything. The nightclubs were business as usual. You don’t usually spend your New Year’s at Dataran Merdeka anyways, so what’s the fuss? And yes I am judging you. Why the fuck not? You are a (nak maki pon salah grammer. no cred lah like dis. am dusting off my tupac cd. now) kiasu selfish arseholes to react the way you did.  The door at Zouk was not chained and padlock. You still drank your whiskey, champagne and popped your happy pills, didn’t you?

The likes of Zulkifli Mohd Noor and Ooi Kean Guan doesn’t know and probably doesn’t care how you usher the new year. But it would be in very bad taste if they and the other 5 million victims of this catastrophe were to watch the telly or read the newspapers of fireworks in Dataran Merdeka and Maya Karin counting down on stage in front of 10,000 people outside the Sri Pentas.

P/s. I hope those anti-establishment young ladies do not stumble on to this crappy blog. When you are young and pretty, you try so hard to be smart and wise. Eager to make a point. Eager to be taken seriously. Little do they know that those who nodded their heads in agreement were nodding at their cleavage.