April comes and April goes...
The Spring, the blooms, the beginning of the four season - the beginning of hope and dreams.
The month of Mars, and the Greek God Ares; whom blanket himself with the skin of the enemy he slayed.
The birth of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), Fuhrer Adolf Hitler, Hugh 'The Playboy' Hefner (whom share the same birthdate as yours truly i.e. the 9th of April)
The time when I start to write again...
Shasha 8 April 5pm (SMS): Saw u with a gal holdin hands d other day. She's lovely. U're smitten ;)
JD (SMS): Where did u see me?
Shasha: Nah... 4 me 2 know. No biggie :)
JD: I need to know which gal did u see me with. Too many women, too lil time. If only u could spend more times with me :)
Shasha: I prefer this distance. I bet if I were that gal n I see u with me, I wud b so frustrated...(advice, nag, talk-cock, blah3x)
JD: ;)
9 April 12midnight; missed call: Shasha
Shasha 9 April 00:01 (SMS): Celebr8ing? Happy BIG 3 neways :)
JD 00:31 (SMS): Thx baby ;)
Shasha 9 April 03:00 (SMS): Where u @? Home? Alone?
Shasha 9 April 03:11 (SMS): JD...
Shasha 9 April 04:01 (SMS): I wanna surprise u. B'day prezzie. How bout if I cum 2 u now?
Shasha 9 April 04:31 (missed call)
Shasha 9 April 04:32 (SMS): JD...
9 April 04:44: Chelsea won UEFA Champs League 1st leg @ Anfield 3-1
Yeah! Chelsea-Chelsea \(^0^)/
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
'Killing Beatrice' Project - Bella
Clits are the most sensitive part on women's anatomy. Some women like it to be licked, some like it to be rubbed. But you really need to master the skill of clits stimulation. You have to build up the tense and sense from the foundation, and let it creeps into her blood veins shooting straight into the ultimate destination - the brains.
And sit back watch her implode.
But what happen when you 'wag the dog' i.e. stimulate the brains instead? Just the brains.
Learn the ultimate skill from me and my good friend Al to stimulate and conquer the hardest yet the softest part on a woman - THE BRAIN.
Join us on the journey to 'Killing Beatrice'.
Al wrote:
Okay, here’s the deal, let’s go to the world of ‘What If’ for a while.
WHAT IF: I accepted your 'invitation' to the Art Gallery that your man hosted the other night?
- I bumped into you, we exchanged glances, you pretended that you didn’t know me - but deep inside, your heart was crying out loud to talk to me, to touch me, to smell my cologne closer as if nothing else matters. Would you relent to the temptation?
- I was pretending to appreciate the exhibition, and then your significant other came to initiate some small talks with me, pretending like he cares what I think. I felt like I was being watched from some distance, a warm and tender, yet suspicious look – from you. Would you come and join the conversation? Wouldn’t you be scared?
- Let’s just say that you dared your balls to come though you should know that ‘three’s a crowd’ and you gone straight to your man, held his arms with that cute-pretentious-smile and that kitty-eyes of yours (begging for attention). I started to walk away, feeling a little discomfort. Would you stop me? Would you hold the man’s arm with your one hand and reach for me with the other while he’s not watching?
- I was about to leave. The host was quite busy with his guests. You noticed me. You ran to me like a little girl missing her daddy. In my parking lot you called my name awkwardly, you grab my hand, then I asked you,
“I’m just wondering how good you are in handling temptations?”
You said, “I’m not a saint neither a devil, you figure.”
I said, “Your words are so insinuating. It seems like you are the one who’s trying to tempt me into doing something outta pleasure and guilt. But I like the way you think.”
Without hesitation you said to me, “I have skills that you’ve not seen in your short 29 years of life. I told you I have tasted enough salt in my life.”
Then I said, “So now let’s play by your rules. I’m giving you ample time to think. Let’s do something tempting and fun some day soon.”
As I grabbed you on your waist, let you breathe hot and harsh onto my neck, then I kissed your forehead – and left.
- What if the day is on the 18th, you really came, we had fun, we relented to the temptation.
WHAT IF?
--- On Wed, 4/23/08, Bella wrote:
From: Bella
Subject: Re: What If?
To: al@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, April 23, 2008, 11:17 AM
This is my version of what ifs:
What if I didn’t tell you that I am engaged? Would you pursue me relentlessly or you play cool?
I think this is how it would go. You would pursue me and I will play devil, we do Mrs. Jones. However, as in every double life, there are always boundaries and restrictions.
You get tired of the game and ask me "where is this heading to?" Me being the coy cat would reply "We don’t know what future holds" and off we have our little rendezvous every now and then.
As time passes by, you gave me an ultimatum, "choose me or him" and guess what my response? "I am engaged and I am getting married in June and he will uproot me to America". Your response would be, "Fuck him!" and I said "I think you should respect certain boundaries". Knowing you, the fighter cock will fight back but in the end, we both know that we are living in a lie. It was never meant to be and it will never be.
Before we go down that road, it’s better for us to part ways when we are not too deep into the Mrs. Jones games.
This should’ve taught us both the lesson, never start something when you don’t plan to finish it. We both don’t deserve to be in the dirty game of Mrs. Jones.
Well, I had fun while it lasted. Never thought I will be in the game but I guess life is full of surprises. Who would have guessed the walk to Bukit Kiara lead us to this path? It was written on a stone of Bukit Kiara, “Do not play with fire or you will get burnt.”
The end
Mrs. Jones
And sit back watch her implode.
But what happen when you 'wag the dog' i.e. stimulate the brains instead? Just the brains.
Learn the ultimate skill from me and my good friend Al to stimulate and conquer the hardest yet the softest part on a woman - THE BRAIN.
Join us on the journey to 'Killing Beatrice'.
Al wrote:
Okay, here’s the deal, let’s go to the world of ‘What If’ for a while.
WHAT IF: I accepted your 'invitation' to the Art Gallery that your man hosted the other night?
- I bumped into you, we exchanged glances, you pretended that you didn’t know me - but deep inside, your heart was crying out loud to talk to me, to touch me, to smell my cologne closer as if nothing else matters. Would you relent to the temptation?
- I was pretending to appreciate the exhibition, and then your significant other came to initiate some small talks with me, pretending like he cares what I think. I felt like I was being watched from some distance, a warm and tender, yet suspicious look – from you. Would you come and join the conversation? Wouldn’t you be scared?
- Let’s just say that you dared your balls to come though you should know that ‘three’s a crowd’ and you gone straight to your man, held his arms with that cute-pretentious-smile and that kitty-eyes of yours (begging for attention). I started to walk away, feeling a little discomfort. Would you stop me? Would you hold the man’s arm with your one hand and reach for me with the other while he’s not watching?
- I was about to leave. The host was quite busy with his guests. You noticed me. You ran to me like a little girl missing her daddy. In my parking lot you called my name awkwardly, you grab my hand, then I asked you,
“I’m just wondering how good you are in handling temptations?”
You said, “I’m not a saint neither a devil, you figure.”
I said, “Your words are so insinuating. It seems like you are the one who’s trying to tempt me into doing something outta pleasure and guilt. But I like the way you think.”
Without hesitation you said to me, “I have skills that you’ve not seen in your short 29 years of life. I told you I have tasted enough salt in my life.”
Then I said, “So now let’s play by your rules. I’m giving you ample time to think. Let’s do something tempting and fun some day soon.”
As I grabbed you on your waist, let you breathe hot and harsh onto my neck, then I kissed your forehead – and left.
- What if the day is on the 18th, you really came, we had fun, we relented to the temptation.
WHAT IF?
--- On Wed, 4/23/08, Bella wrote:
From: Bella
Subject: Re: What If?
To: al@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, April 23, 2008, 11:17 AM
This is my version of what ifs:
What if I didn’t tell you that I am engaged? Would you pursue me relentlessly or you play cool?
I think this is how it would go. You would pursue me and I will play devil, we do Mrs. Jones. However, as in every double life, there are always boundaries and restrictions.
You get tired of the game and ask me "where is this heading to?" Me being the coy cat would reply "We don’t know what future holds" and off we have our little rendezvous every now and then.
As time passes by, you gave me an ultimatum, "choose me or him" and guess what my response? "I am engaged and I am getting married in June and he will uproot me to America". Your response would be, "Fuck him!" and I said "I think you should respect certain boundaries". Knowing you, the fighter cock will fight back but in the end, we both know that we are living in a lie. It was never meant to be and it will never be.
Before we go down that road, it’s better for us to part ways when we are not too deep into the Mrs. Jones games.
This should’ve taught us both the lesson, never start something when you don’t plan to finish it. We both don’t deserve to be in the dirty game of Mrs. Jones.
Well, I had fun while it lasted. Never thought I will be in the game but I guess life is full of surprises. Who would have guessed the walk to Bukit Kiara lead us to this path? It was written on a stone of Bukit Kiara, “Do not play with fire or you will get burnt.”
The end
Mrs. Jones
Monday, November 10, 2008
'Killing Beatrice' Project
I could really relate, partially if not fully, with Dante Alighieri who wrote The Divine Comedy – a love poem of a man’s infatuation over a woman; the journey of a wicked soul transformed by the power of love for a beautiful woman. Her name was Beatrice, whom he met once when he was nine, and again when he was eighteen. But he never got the girl let alone bedding her.
Mine was Emma, literally the girl next door. The 1st girl I stripped butt naked – when I was 6 years old. Mother caught us in my room screaming, ‘What the heaven were you kids doing?’ Innocently I replied, ‘Momma, we’re just playing doctors.’ In my defense, I really was impersonating a doctor. Or was it actually my Spiderman action-figure who crawled up her butt-cheek, doing some ‘inspection’? Hmm!
I spent most of my adolescent years in boarding school. And I met her again when I was seventeen – what a fine young lady she became, Emma. But I never got to see her butt-cheek again.
The syndrome as they put it, ‘One-itis’ i.e. the infatuation – in contrary to Dante’s, didn’t affect me.
Meet Al, my good buddy since high school. A natural player, under-rated perfectionist, and his biggest traits flawed him big time – being too analytical. It was the work of ours, that managed Al to get two of the hottest girls in school – and the two was the best of friends, before Al seek the wisdom of the Deville.
Al went to college, and handed his ‘balls of steel’ to one fine girl – for eight fucking years, yes gentlemen, E-I-G-H-T. Being a perfectionist, Al dislikes living out of his comfort zone. He wants things to be done in his certain way – the way of a man with balls to his deficit.
One day in the 8th years, the girl decided to study overseas, and mastering how to play ‘tonsil tennis’ with, you guessed it, not Al (ironically Al was good with tennis). It was supposedly a seven-years-itch, but the girl successfully prolonged the process of carbonizing Al’s balls before she smashed them with her hammering stiletto.
I came back to Malaysia in 2005. Al called me a year later – a cry for help kinda call. A call not exactly similar but close to the few he did back then in high school; he’d wake me up in the middle of the night just for me to give a little stroke to his ego telling that everything’s going to be alright – ‘the girls will be yours’.
You know what a mere mortal like us could do or be in eight years? I spent most of my adulthood outside Malaysia, and I’m the type of man that keeps track (accumulatively) of my conquest (journey), but I messed up the count on my 21st birthday (now I’m 28). In eight years Al’s dick had shrunk and he deserved a set of vagina - in those long, long years you’ll either grow large or you’ll rot.
Stick with me, I’ll share with you the journey to grow back Al’s penis. And if you behave, I’ll give you step-by-step guide to get a beautiful and powerful woman – it was the ‘Killing Beatrice’ Project – the mission to kill the ‘One-itis’ virus in my good friend, our good friend Al.
The latest woman Al’s seeing is a leggy-beauty, who is highly-connected – and when I said ‘highly-connected’ it means she could have your ass followed by a bunch of men with ‘license to kill’ – if she doesn’t trust you. But if you'd see her dancing in her white satin pants on a white thong, you’ll realize that the bouncy butt-cheeks is where you want to put your face in between – it’s worth the thrill.
Now that was last year. 2008 was more fun. Stay tuned.
Mine was Emma, literally the girl next door. The 1st girl I stripped butt naked – when I was 6 years old. Mother caught us in my room screaming, ‘What the heaven were you kids doing?’ Innocently I replied, ‘Momma, we’re just playing doctors.’ In my defense, I really was impersonating a doctor. Or was it actually my Spiderman action-figure who crawled up her butt-cheek, doing some ‘inspection’? Hmm!
I spent most of my adolescent years in boarding school. And I met her again when I was seventeen – what a fine young lady she became, Emma. But I never got to see her butt-cheek again.
The syndrome as they put it, ‘One-itis’ i.e. the infatuation – in contrary to Dante’s, didn’t affect me.
Meet Al, my good buddy since high school. A natural player, under-rated perfectionist, and his biggest traits flawed him big time – being too analytical. It was the work of ours, that managed Al to get two of the hottest girls in school – and the two was the best of friends, before Al seek the wisdom of the Deville.
Al went to college, and handed his ‘balls of steel’ to one fine girl – for eight fucking years, yes gentlemen, E-I-G-H-T. Being a perfectionist, Al dislikes living out of his comfort zone. He wants things to be done in his certain way – the way of a man with balls to his deficit.
One day in the 8th years, the girl decided to study overseas, and mastering how to play ‘tonsil tennis’ with, you guessed it, not Al (ironically Al was good with tennis). It was supposedly a seven-years-itch, but the girl successfully prolonged the process of carbonizing Al’s balls before she smashed them with her hammering stiletto.
I came back to Malaysia in 2005. Al called me a year later – a cry for help kinda call. A call not exactly similar but close to the few he did back then in high school; he’d wake me up in the middle of the night just for me to give a little stroke to his ego telling that everything’s going to be alright – ‘the girls will be yours’.
You know what a mere mortal like us could do or be in eight years? I spent most of my adulthood outside Malaysia, and I’m the type of man that keeps track (accumulatively) of my conquest (journey), but I messed up the count on my 21st birthday (now I’m 28). In eight years Al’s dick had shrunk and he deserved a set of vagina - in those long, long years you’ll either grow large or you’ll rot.
Stick with me, I’ll share with you the journey to grow back Al’s penis. And if you behave, I’ll give you step-by-step guide to get a beautiful and powerful woman – it was the ‘Killing Beatrice’ Project – the mission to kill the ‘One-itis’ virus in my good friend, our good friend Al.
The latest woman Al’s seeing is a leggy-beauty, who is highly-connected – and when I said ‘highly-connected’ it means she could have your ass followed by a bunch of men with ‘license to kill’ – if she doesn’t trust you. But if you'd see her dancing in her white satin pants on a white thong, you’ll realize that the bouncy butt-cheeks is where you want to put your face in between – it’s worth the thrill.
Now that was last year. 2008 was more fun. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
‘The best 30 seconds in racing history’
I’m borrowing Steve Slater’s line, the commentator for the ‘so long yet so short’ 2008 Formula 1 season that closed its curtain yesterday at Interlagos Brasil; home of the mighty Ayrton Senna – and the ‘so close yet so far’ champion, Felipe Massa.
I looked into few major news papers this morning for the best reports, but sadly all of ‘em was bias. They didn’t tell the true story.
Well, everybody knows that Lewis Hamilton entered the final GP this year same like last year with 7 points in the lead. Last year his contender for Driver’s Championship was Ferrari’s Kimi Raikkonen. After a disastrous start and a computer failure in the mid of the race, Hamilton had to settle for the second place with only 1 point deficit to Raikkonen’s.
I used to like Hamilton because of his talent and charisma a’la Michael Schumacher. When everyone was concerned about the sport not having the replacement for the legendary Schumi, he came into the picture with a new ‘color’ of hi-octane excitement and adrenaline rush, besides being the first black driver in F1 history.
But he was spoiled by Ron Dennis, the team principal for the McLaren Mercedes F1. That was the foundation of the ‘bad bones’ and feud between then team-mates-cum-rivals Fernando Alonso in 2007. I was camping for Alonso since Ron Dennis let ‘one very big cat outta a very expensive bag’ quoting, ‘We weren’t racing Kimi, we were basically racing Fernando.’
What happened yesterday? Hamilton started from fourth grid. He just needed to secure fifth or better for the title. He was doing well, not taking any big risks by staying in fourth and sometimes fifth, until Sebastian Vettel came breathing down Hamilton’s tail in the last couple of laps.
Well I have nothing against Felipe Massa though he could be an erratic driver and never good under pressure, but he was as dedicated. Almost everybody including me wanted to see Hamilton fail.
Alonso vowed to help Massa for the title, including BMW Petronas Robert Kubica who dove in the 2nd sector to hold Hamilton so Vettel could take the fifth place.
For 5 seconds everybody thought that Massa was the 2008 World Champion when he crossed the chequered flag placed 1st and Hamilton finished 6th.
But ‘til this very moment no news or whatsoever explaining the real story of what has happened to the initially 4th place Toyota’s Timo Glock turned 6th place just few meters from the finishing line, giving Lewis Hamilton his well-deserved championship.
Well deserved? Or did Hamilton get a helping hand too? Well, who the heaven knows.
But I strongly yet hesitantly think he deserved it.
Q: How do you know that you’re the champ, the women’s man and the men’s men?
A: When your existence is loved by few and hated by few.
I looked into few major news papers this morning for the best reports, but sadly all of ‘em was bias. They didn’t tell the true story.
Well, everybody knows that Lewis Hamilton entered the final GP this year same like last year with 7 points in the lead. Last year his contender for Driver’s Championship was Ferrari’s Kimi Raikkonen. After a disastrous start and a computer failure in the mid of the race, Hamilton had to settle for the second place with only 1 point deficit to Raikkonen’s.
I used to like Hamilton because of his talent and charisma a’la Michael Schumacher. When everyone was concerned about the sport not having the replacement for the legendary Schumi, he came into the picture with a new ‘color’ of hi-octane excitement and adrenaline rush, besides being the first black driver in F1 history.
But he was spoiled by Ron Dennis, the team principal for the McLaren Mercedes F1. That was the foundation of the ‘bad bones’ and feud between then team-mates-cum-rivals Fernando Alonso in 2007. I was camping for Alonso since Ron Dennis let ‘one very big cat outta a very expensive bag’ quoting, ‘We weren’t racing Kimi, we were basically racing Fernando.’
What happened yesterday? Hamilton started from fourth grid. He just needed to secure fifth or better for the title. He was doing well, not taking any big risks by staying in fourth and sometimes fifth, until Sebastian Vettel came breathing down Hamilton’s tail in the last couple of laps.
Well I have nothing against Felipe Massa though he could be an erratic driver and never good under pressure, but he was as dedicated. Almost everybody including me wanted to see Hamilton fail.
Alonso vowed to help Massa for the title, including BMW Petronas Robert Kubica who dove in the 2nd sector to hold Hamilton so Vettel could take the fifth place.
For 5 seconds everybody thought that Massa was the 2008 World Champion when he crossed the chequered flag placed 1st and Hamilton finished 6th.
But ‘til this very moment no news or whatsoever explaining the real story of what has happened to the initially 4th place Toyota’s Timo Glock turned 6th place just few meters from the finishing line, giving Lewis Hamilton his well-deserved championship.
Well deserved? Or did Hamilton get a helping hand too? Well, who the heaven knows.
But I strongly yet hesitantly think he deserved it.
Q: How do you know that you’re the champ, the women’s man and the men’s men?
A: When your existence is loved by few and hated by few.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Perfect Woman
"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene,
I said don’t mind, but what you mean I am the one,
Who will dance on the floor in the round,
She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round."
"People always told me be careful of what you do,
Don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts,
And mother always told me be careful of who you love,
And be careful of what you do before the lie becomes the truth."
Usher Raymond would call her TTP, The Total Package.
My TTP would be a combination of classic beauty of Audrey Hepburn, with the allure of hotness of Farah Fawcett, lil’ bit confused and Deville-dependent Marilyn Monroe, modern and tough like Hillary Swank or Carly Fiorina of HP, tight round ass of the cross between Shakira and Jessica Biel, tits not too hard like Pam Anderson’s but not too soft like Scarlett Jo’s.
Sounds too ‘outta this world’? Too impossible? Exactly!
But how do you describe your Perfect Woman? The most vital question of all; how do you find her?
She was the girl who graced the TV screen, who made the cheesiest lines of the soap commercials sounded smooth and silky. She was literally a beauty queen when she was 17. She was braving the pages of cheeky local magazines that fed on normal women self-esteem – she made those girls loves to hate her.
She lived as the real life princess, spoiled by the mother of a royal blood and the businessman-cum-politician father. The mother inherit a fortune, and the father was hunted by the tax officers because having hundreds of millions USD undeclared assets overseas.
So where do I fit in this picture? Let’s just say hypothetically that she was in my dreams long ago even before I had my first ‘wet dream’. She was my Perfect Woman.
Ok, now I’m lying. I never dreamt of a soap model to be my girlfriend. Though I had a dream of kissing the breast of Wan Zaleha Radzi, the first TV3 muse – well actually I just sniffed on her bra. Fuck that.
I would like to differ from a popular and twisted opinion that you were in love with the Perfect Woman even before you met her. That’s just plain stupid.
You would never know it's her 'til you meet her.
It’s just like the opposite of self-sabotage; when your mind is highly motivated by something, you’ll start to reason around it – 1001 justifications to perfect the object of your desire.
Don’t know what I’m saying? So stop from reading, and go get some education. Ok, I’m just kidding.
Well, let say that your motivation is sex. One day you found a decent woman, provides you with regular sex, and while you are at it with her (you know, the sex part), you feel the most beautiful feeling even if she’s not the most beautiful looking woman. You start to dismiss her flaws; even her piggy-nose looks pretty, and her large forehead looks lovable, etcetera-etcetera. She's that Perfect Woman at that time. But this kinda motivation will be short-lived.
How to keep a long-lasting motivation?
I’d say pick Love and Wealth. These two elements are the ingredients for the strongest enterprise, the partnership of man and woman.
A younger naive me would go for Love first, and work hard to build Wealth around it, with my Perfect Woman. But that would be hard, really hard.
The good news is, although the elements are as consequential to one another, the priority can be rearranged – depending on the phase of life where you are at. If you are a lucky rich bastard, go ahead find your love, and she’ll be the Perfect Woman. But if your net-worth is ‘discouraging’ just like mine, go find your ‘gold mine honeys’ first, then learn to love that Perfect Woman.
The bad news is, sometimes even when you’ve found Wealth, it is still hard to build Love around it - it's just plain fucking hard.
"So take my strong advice, remember to always think twice. Do think twice."
I said don’t mind, but what you mean I am the one,
Who will dance on the floor in the round,
She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round."
"People always told me be careful of what you do,
Don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts,
And mother always told me be careful of who you love,
And be careful of what you do before the lie becomes the truth."
Usher Raymond would call her TTP, The Total Package.
My TTP would be a combination of classic beauty of Audrey Hepburn, with the allure of hotness of Farah Fawcett, lil’ bit confused and Deville-dependent Marilyn Monroe, modern and tough like Hillary Swank or Carly Fiorina of HP, tight round ass of the cross between Shakira and Jessica Biel, tits not too hard like Pam Anderson’s but not too soft like Scarlett Jo’s.
Sounds too ‘outta this world’? Too impossible? Exactly!
But how do you describe your Perfect Woman? The most vital question of all; how do you find her?
She was the girl who graced the TV screen, who made the cheesiest lines of the soap commercials sounded smooth and silky. She was literally a beauty queen when she was 17. She was braving the pages of cheeky local magazines that fed on normal women self-esteem – she made those girls loves to hate her.
She lived as the real life princess, spoiled by the mother of a royal blood and the businessman-cum-politician father. The mother inherit a fortune, and the father was hunted by the tax officers because having hundreds of millions USD undeclared assets overseas.
So where do I fit in this picture? Let’s just say hypothetically that she was in my dreams long ago even before I had my first ‘wet dream’. She was my Perfect Woman.
Ok, now I’m lying. I never dreamt of a soap model to be my girlfriend. Though I had a dream of kissing the breast of Wan Zaleha Radzi, the first TV3 muse – well actually I just sniffed on her bra. Fuck that.
I would like to differ from a popular and twisted opinion that you were in love with the Perfect Woman even before you met her. That’s just plain stupid.
You would never know it's her 'til you meet her.
It’s just like the opposite of self-sabotage; when your mind is highly motivated by something, you’ll start to reason around it – 1001 justifications to perfect the object of your desire.
Don’t know what I’m saying? So stop from reading, and go get some education. Ok, I’m just kidding.
Well, let say that your motivation is sex. One day you found a decent woman, provides you with regular sex, and while you are at it with her (you know, the sex part), you feel the most beautiful feeling even if she’s not the most beautiful looking woman. You start to dismiss her flaws; even her piggy-nose looks pretty, and her large forehead looks lovable, etcetera-etcetera. She's that Perfect Woman at that time. But this kinda motivation will be short-lived.
How to keep a long-lasting motivation?
I’d say pick Love and Wealth. These two elements are the ingredients for the strongest enterprise, the partnership of man and woman.
A younger naive me would go for Love first, and work hard to build Wealth around it, with my Perfect Woman. But that would be hard, really hard.
The good news is, although the elements are as consequential to one another, the priority can be rearranged – depending on the phase of life where you are at. If you are a lucky rich bastard, go ahead find your love, and she’ll be the Perfect Woman. But if your net-worth is ‘discouraging’ just like mine, go find your ‘gold mine honeys’ first, then learn to love that Perfect Woman.
The bad news is, sometimes even when you’ve found Wealth, it is still hard to build Love around it - it's just plain fucking hard.
"So take my strong advice, remember to always think twice. Do think twice."
Friday, October 24, 2008
Chemicals Final Part (1 of 2)
My face was empty. The boy held his smile. A firm handshake. My face was still empty. I shifted Pumpkin into the back seat, literally a cramped 'bucket' seat that could only fit monkeys. The boy seated next to me. He held his smile firmly. But my face was empty.
I drove fast enough even the red-assed monkeys face could turn deep purple, from the engine heat and the tensed air in the car.
I jockeyed my ride into Concorde's valet. I was meeting my friends, my 'big bullies' friends; literally BIG bullies. I 'threw' the boy in the middle of my boys. We could've metaphorically 'eat him alive'. But the boy held the smile, and firmly shook all of the boys hands. My face was fulled, with smile.
"He's good."
The boys left after a round of pats on the boy's shoulder and back. I left the two of them while I went to fetch my visiting Japanese ol' flame in her room.
It was Merdeka night. The four of us walked to KLCC. We settled at the Starbucks waiting for the fireworks to start.
The air was horribly thick with the smell of sweats, partly from the proud Malaysian - and the other large part was coming from the hardworking illegal immigrants, 'proud' to invade Malaysia.
"I need to go 'shi-shi'." Pumpkin whispered me her toilet cue. I nodded permission for the boy to company her.
She texted me, 'Toilet shut! Goin 2 Pelita (Nasi Kandar), CC (shi-shi) & naan cheese, starving. B back soon. XOXO'
I called her phone, "Put him on the phone..."
"Take 1 hour! Just 1 hour!"
They didn't come back after an hour. I was angry, very. Pumpkin could act a lil' too spoiled and bratty sometimes, blame me for that; but I would never accept any reasoning from the boy for failing me - I would still blame him.
I called her phone, "PUT HIM ON THE PHONE!"
"Please, I'm sorry it's my fault. Too many people. We lost track of time. Be back soon."
"PUT HIM ON THE PHONE!"
The boy took the phone, "Hello..."
"BRING HER BACK NOW!" I put down the phone. He's fucking dead.
Both of them were sweating like piglets when they returned; some of theirs and I guessed some were brushed off the 'proud' immigrants. Disgusting.
But that firm smile of his was emptied, perhaps by the guilt and fear. He spoke of nothing. But I really hated to see Pumpkin mirrored his expression. I knew they were sorry. My heart, was fulled with empathy.
"I'm calling it a night. Let's go." I pulled Pumpkin's hand.
"You're a man. Find your own way home."
I heard the boy said 'I'm sorry' few times from the depth of his dried throat as Pumpkin looked back for one last time.
Well, that Merdeka night actually made them stronger. He's a good boy. I was too hard on both of them. But he earned my respect.
Everytime I asked Pumpkin what she loved most about the boy, Pumpkin never succeeded at elaborating - but I'm sure, it was all about 'Chemistry'.
They broke up a year later when the boy went to a college. I was impressed when Pumpkin told me that he sells 'Nasi Lemak' at his college to fund his school fees. He might came from a struggling family, but what I impressed most about him is the fact that he called off the relationship with Pumpkin because he knew that long-distance relationship never works - a good and responsible call indeed.
I drove fast enough even the red-assed monkeys face could turn deep purple, from the engine heat and the tensed air in the car.
I jockeyed my ride into Concorde's valet. I was meeting my friends, my 'big bullies' friends; literally BIG bullies. I 'threw' the boy in the middle of my boys. We could've metaphorically 'eat him alive'. But the boy held the smile, and firmly shook all of the boys hands. My face was fulled, with smile.
"He's good."
The boys left after a round of pats on the boy's shoulder and back. I left the two of them while I went to fetch my visiting Japanese ol' flame in her room.
It was Merdeka night. The four of us walked to KLCC. We settled at the Starbucks waiting for the fireworks to start.
The air was horribly thick with the smell of sweats, partly from the proud Malaysian - and the other large part was coming from the hardworking illegal immigrants, 'proud' to invade Malaysia.
"I need to go 'shi-shi'." Pumpkin whispered me her toilet cue. I nodded permission for the boy to company her.
She texted me, 'Toilet shut! Goin 2 Pelita (Nasi Kandar), CC (shi-shi) & naan cheese, starving. B back soon. XOXO'
I called her phone, "Put him on the phone..."
"Take 1 hour! Just 1 hour!"
They didn't come back after an hour. I was angry, very. Pumpkin could act a lil' too spoiled and bratty sometimes, blame me for that; but I would never accept any reasoning from the boy for failing me - I would still blame him.
I called her phone, "PUT HIM ON THE PHONE!"
"Please, I'm sorry it's my fault. Too many people. We lost track of time. Be back soon."
"PUT HIM ON THE PHONE!"
The boy took the phone, "Hello..."
"BRING HER BACK NOW!" I put down the phone. He's fucking dead.
Both of them were sweating like piglets when they returned; some of theirs and I guessed some were brushed off the 'proud' immigrants. Disgusting.
But that firm smile of his was emptied, perhaps by the guilt and fear. He spoke of nothing. But I really hated to see Pumpkin mirrored his expression. I knew they were sorry. My heart, was fulled with empathy.
"I'm calling it a night. Let's go." I pulled Pumpkin's hand.
"You're a man. Find your own way home."
I heard the boy said 'I'm sorry' few times from the depth of his dried throat as Pumpkin looked back for one last time.
Well, that Merdeka night actually made them stronger. He's a good boy. I was too hard on both of them. But he earned my respect.
Everytime I asked Pumpkin what she loved most about the boy, Pumpkin never succeeded at elaborating - but I'm sure, it was all about 'Chemistry'.
They broke up a year later when the boy went to a college. I was impressed when Pumpkin told me that he sells 'Nasi Lemak' at his college to fund his school fees. He might came from a struggling family, but what I impressed most about him is the fact that he called off the relationship with Pumpkin because he knew that long-distance relationship never works - a good and responsible call indeed.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Movies
I'm currently waiting to get my filthy hands on the 5th season of The Sopranos.
It's a must watch. Especially for those who immortalize the Don Corleone from the invincible mafia epics, the Godfather trilogy.
Tony Soprano is the ultimate bad boy. He's witty, ruthless, and yet he have a 'soft spot' in his heart. I could really relate to him.
This underworld mob boss of the New Jersey families loves his wife dearly, his two children, and the family. But he had one affair after another, and he fucks like a pornstar. I could relate well to his infatuation towards 'l'amor fou' (the crazy love). And at the end of the day, he'll just go back to the comfort of his home, embrace the son and the daughter, and sleep tightly on the wife's bed.
Recent Watch (highly recommends):
1. The Bucket's List - the mighty Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman
2. Be Kind Rewind - Jack Black and Danny Glover
3. We Own The Night - Joaquin Phoenix and Eva Mendes
4. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford - Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck
5. Fight Club - for the hundredth times
6. Pingu - watch at your own risk; but it's fucking hilarious
7. Kung Fu Hustle - the under-rated Stephen Chow
-> Damn! And by saying that I'm not gonna under-rate Chow Sing Chi no more
-> New York Post quoted, 'Exhilarating, Utterly Hilarious' - well said
-> With that chisseled physique and 'outta this world' humor, any girls will fall for you
Q: What would be your answers if a girl comes to you and say, 'I miss you' or 'I love you'?
The Deville'd say, 'I know.' With a devilish smile.
Or the Deville would say nothing. Just a smile, and a light tap on the back of her head, followed with a kiss on the forehead, tip of the nose, both cheeks, and on the wet lips. Then spank firm her butt-cheek saying, 'Go get me something cold to drink.'
But Christopher Moltisanti said it best to Adriana.
He said, 'You'd better.'
It's a must watch. Especially for those who immortalize the Don Corleone from the invincible mafia epics, the Godfather trilogy.
Tony Soprano is the ultimate bad boy. He's witty, ruthless, and yet he have a 'soft spot' in his heart. I could really relate to him.
This underworld mob boss of the New Jersey families loves his wife dearly, his two children, and the family. But he had one affair after another, and he fucks like a pornstar. I could relate well to his infatuation towards 'l'amor fou' (the crazy love). And at the end of the day, he'll just go back to the comfort of his home, embrace the son and the daughter, and sleep tightly on the wife's bed.
Recent Watch (highly recommends):
1. The Bucket's List - the mighty Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman
2. Be Kind Rewind - Jack Black and Danny Glover
3. We Own The Night - Joaquin Phoenix and Eva Mendes
4. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford - Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck
5. Fight Club - for the hundredth times
6. Pingu - watch at your own risk; but it's fucking hilarious
7. Kung Fu Hustle - the under-rated Stephen Chow
-> Damn! And by saying that I'm not gonna under-rate Chow Sing Chi no more
-> New York Post quoted, 'Exhilarating, Utterly Hilarious' - well said
-> With that chisseled physique and 'outta this world' humor, any girls will fall for you
Q: What would be your answers if a girl comes to you and say, 'I miss you' or 'I love you'?
The Deville'd say, 'I know.' With a devilish smile.
Or the Deville would say nothing. Just a smile, and a light tap on the back of her head, followed with a kiss on the forehead, tip of the nose, both cheeks, and on the wet lips. Then spank firm her butt-cheek saying, 'Go get me something cold to drink.'
But Christopher Moltisanti said it best to Adriana.
He said, 'You'd better.'
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