Grab a cup of Joe, Sam, Bob or Ah Tan. This will be long. Or skim through like the bloody white milk you are!
Just when i'm planning to stop blogging, fucking jewcake spammers litter the girl's blogs. That's all i needed start blogging again.
School starts at 1pm for me now every Monday. Sweet. I was about to bath when I thought id check the school mail while someone’s laying the smacketh down in the toilet and lo and behold! School starts at 1.
The last night hasn’t been easy for me. Sleeping was a pain in the ass and there was this burning pain in my chest. You know how some quotes or figure of speech thingy sounds so stupid? Like… “burning in my chest?” Well actually it really does feel like so. And that “heart sank” thingy is also real. Whatever.
I dreaded coming to sch today. One, for the big huemangjobous problem im going through now and another because it’s MALAY SOCIETY module!
I mean.. geez…. I’m known to be the biggest racist alive. I’m the biggest discriminator around, dissing anyone just for the skin colour of hair texture. It’s like I’m Hitler and I’m dreaming of the perfect Aryan race.
I came to class and the first thing my tracher Karthini said to me was “Put on this tag”.
I read the tag and it said,”Anak”, which means child. Oh geez.. icebreaker. Let’s stand in a circle and memorize each other’s name!
We had to throw this sepak takraw ball around, saying the word on our tag followed by our name.
So the whole time I was going, “Anak Audi… Anak Audi… Anak Audi, dammit!”
I remember being disgusted by the ball because images of skinny faggots in small girly shorts with their ba long longs hanging out shouting, “Sial” or “Sua” or whatever they have, jumping about with their huge foreheads… eew.
One thing I noticed is that in the class of 20, there were 17 chinese and 3 malays (including me)… and no Indians! Ok so the last few words weren’t necessary.
Then teacher started the lesson and introduced us to the Malays and what they mean.
And it was a real eye opener.
I learnt that malays pretty much started off as sea-farers, wandering around south east asia. Historians cant even put a finger on where they came from. The western view is that they came from Yunnan in China. The Asian view is that they were those people you see in Borneo.
You know what I think? I think they did come from China. Why? Because duh.. China and Africa are the mothers of civilization. And have you seen the Mongolians? They look like a mix of Chinese and Malays! So.. brother brother dun fight each other knn. And the people of borneo.. god knows where they came from. Maybe it’s true as well. Maybe there were two colonies who mixed together, form china and borneo, to form the malays we have today.
Im not sure abuout other people… but I noticed two different types of malays running about in Singapore. One, they have fairer skin, their skulls aren’t humongous and basically have a much more appealing body structure and so on. The other one have huge foreheads, funny shapped jaws, thick lips and they really do look like people you’d see in Sarawak and so forth.
Based on this, this is why I conclude that there could be some mixing with the people of borneo and china. Let’s discriminate now… do the successful ones look anything like those freaks you see in sec school? At least the successful ones can walk straight…
But this is all my point of view so its not the teacher. Anyways We were then asked to make our way to Kampung Gelam in Bugis. Own time own target.
In sec school.. the girls craving for sex and attention would go, “ Haiyarrhhzxxcx…… dun go lerrr…. Waste time onli… I wan 2 spend time wif moi babiee….” And go to block 744 to find guys to fuck their fat thighs.
But no.. this is poly. We are all men and women with brains and attitude. So we went. I was Bugis anyways.. can go shopping.
Made my way with Ke Song, Cia Xin and Fredy. I’m hanging out with adults, for once!
The excursion was set to educate us about the malays in Singapore and yada yada yada all those NE stuff. My first reaction was a big fat warm yawn.
I didn’t know where the hell Kampung Gelam was. Until I saw the Sultan mosque and went.. ohh…..
Cos my dad brings us there a lot of times to eat at Zam Zam… best murtabak and prata in the region.
It’s only quite recently that I realised about this two levels of society within the malay community. And that’s where my discrimination started to get some focus. At the end of the day I wasn’t hating the entire race. Just some parts of it. I’m glad to know my dad came from the respectful line of malays, those who didn’t come as animal worshippers. As he went about on his business trips, bringing us out for dinner with his business partners who were successful malay men… I kinda noticed all these differences between them and those low lifes you see in stereotypes aka under the blocks. Basically the major difference is that one of them works hard the other doesn’t… which applies to the whole world.
Here’s my teacher.. whose father’s name is the same as mine. Khalid… Khalid Johannes McMahon.. LOL.
She brought us to the shophouses for a little talk. In Singapore, shophouses = artsy fartsy craft shops. Noticed that? Everytim u see a shophouse it’s always some small time fashion boutique, art house, designer places and all that. Why, god.. why?
She told us aout the history of these shophouses… which were built by the white ass blond ass hair british when they spread their evil colonies across south east asia. She told us about the five foot walkways which in their time was sth innovative.
Further into kampong gelam.
We were then brought over to the smallest street in Singapore, Haji Lane.
My dad loves to talk about the malay history. I remember many times afte we prayed at the sultan mosque, he’d talk about how all the pilgrims from the region would come to Singapore for a stopover before leaving on that 2-3 month ship ride to mecca. Many died of course. I could die in a 13 hr plane flight from England to KL (Hi kiong kong! Lmao).
He’ll always point out where did the original coast line was before they reclaimed land… what was around that time… what they were selling and all that. Well he’s from the 50s…
For some reason…. The area felt very Kuching-ish. Then I realised it was the shophouses. Then.. duh! British colinising in Sarawak = total bastardization. The area kinda looks like the market along the Waterfront.
Check out my kuching trip in the links below if you’re new…
Mentos, part of the game.
We were then brought over to the Sultan mosque. One of the reasons that keep me away from going for Friday prayers is the smell of footsweat made up of the hundreds of people coming and taking their shoes (God will condemn me but I just wanna give a shout out, hoping sth will change). Why is this so? Why why why why why?!?! Is it so difficult to wear thicker socks? Is it so difficult to drink more water??
But I might be going for Friday prayers again. I found a nice secluded mosque near here. Well it’s been seven years of blasphemy… time to change I guess.
Teacher briefed us on the five pillars of islam.. and the history of the mosque. It started out in the 1800s as a small time wooden mosque which stood for a hundred years. They then got in an Irish architect to rebuild the mosque into solid stone. Ye Irish men got ideas from the Persians and Turkish, he did – spotted all over the mosque, it was.
Then the juicy facts of the mosques. I love this kinda stuff.
The dome is made of gold.
Nah just joking.
When the mosque was being built, people from all over wanted to contribute to the building. Some donated money, other donated other things. But the poor cant give money otherwise they’d die. They also cant give food cos they’ll die. So what they did as sign for their contributions was donating hundreds of those ketchup bottles our mothers have at home.
What useless piece of junk, you say? Well ye Irish man cried a tear, he did, and proceeded to keep all the backsides of the bottle. What he did then was stuck in all those backsides onto the portion below the dome.. which is what you see is the black portion there. And that, my friends, is classic appreciation built on emotions and not anal rational thinking that *ahem* the *ahem* has been shoving up our asses.
The former Istana was nearby as well. We were told of the big hoo haa between the gahment and the descendants of the istana. Gahment wanted to change into one of those…. Meh you know their trends. But the descendents of the king not be wanting that! Gahment fought back that the land was Singapore’s because the Brits actually took it a long time ago, just letting the king reside there as a gesture of goodwill. Because when you spend so much money on a house, you SHOULD own it right? *stares at HDB*
But the descendants said no. Gahment used their classic tactic, “OK LOR… I WiLL NOW GIVE YOU BIG BIG MONEY” and checked the measly allowance that has been granted to the descendents of the king by the british. In total it’s about a few thousand. But distributed to 79 people? That’s like 300 dollars per ass. So gahment said, “NO PROBLEM! I GIVE YOU TEN TIMES MORE THE MONEY! Then you come lick my backside ok?”
So the decendants were given a bongjonious royal sum of FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS…… per year.
Wow.. if I had four thousand dollars per year… wow… so much money…
Of course, this sparked a lot of those “Gahment chee bai racist!” and “Gahment sibeh chao tar heart!” kinda stuff. Add that with the riots and stuff in those times and now that old guy cursing the gahment or all those racism between the old people finally makes sense.
Well it make my dad’s ramblings on the Chinese make more sense. But that’s not enough! So in retaliation I use all his rambling and silent-racist energy and transform it into a loud-mouthed non-sensical nuclear bomb aimed at “my home”. See how all the pieces fall together.. why people act certain ways… just by knowing them more?
This is why history intrigues me so much. The soon-to-be clihe quote of forgetting history means forgetting about yourself or sth is real!
Finally, we were brought to this shop called Grandfather’s collection.
Aweseome place.
This guy collects all those antiques and sells them. They have cranked-telephones, 1950s coke bottles (tons of them), a 50s jukebox… posters.. entire walls of ads torn off from the original buildings… an 1800s coffee grinder… pretty much everything.
I also found those Kiasu toys from macdonalds… and I dunno if my ister remembers this – the KFC coin box that plays music when you put in money. Those were the days when the fat steaming tub were the KFC icon.
Check out the stale soft drinks!
Milk as old as your father.
This dude is a classic. He set up his shot exactly in a way as it was in the 50s. His cash register’s a freaking tin can for god’s sake! It’s hanging from the ceiling and can be pulled up and down. Just like those shop houses in Kuching.
Then he demonstrated all the little old kampong toys. There was the spinning top (that was fun) chapteh.. and so on.
Then he pulled out this piece of plastic. It’s just some thing plastic thing that’s thinner then your normal plastic bag. I’m gonna put it as how he said it.
“Now you see this plastic? Ok this plastic is very special. Cos you see if you take care of this it can last you a life time. You see when I blow this plastic.. it becomes a ball! And then you can play your soccer, or whatever it is. If the plastic break or tear, it’s ok. You just take your magazine or paper, put some glue, put over the whole, then it’s ok you can play again. Then after you finish playing, you can deflate this plastic, fold it at the centerline here.. then if your head is small, you can use it like a songkok and put on ur head so you dun get hot in the sun. If your head not big enough, you can fold it further, ad put in your pocket. So everywhere you go you have your ball. If you wan to play you just blow it. 50 cents for one.”
Then he started throwing the ball up and it just floated like the plastic bad hybrid it is.
And so that ends it.
For some reason I just wanna go back to kuching.
In fact… I will. On the weekend that my family goes to aussie ill sneak over to kuching. Another adventure! Whoo hoo!!!
----
PUDGE
Surpirse surprise!
Pudge has finally been rigged! He can now move like the pig he is!
But of course there are problems. There is plenty is skin stretchingalong the shoulders and the tummy and this is basically because of the lack of polygons for the texture to stick on. So it stretches. Also, the muscles tend to overlap each other when it’s moving so that’s and irritant.
I thought of adding in more character to Pudge so I him have a jaw.
A bit of cleaning up and…
And he’s ready to scream in that rumbling low voice of his!
Those lines you see in his mouth are the skeletons rigged onto him. This is pretty much a simple model but even then the amount of crap in the head alone is a lot. When I grow up, I wanna add facial skeletons to pudge so that his eyebrows can cringe, his nose can enlrage, his eyelids can flip.. and all that. But that’s too advanced for me.
Here’s how he looks like now. So much more character. I tried a few different overall colours for his skin.. seeing what works. I think I liked it when he was green or like this… pale and grey.
----
Last night an old friend of mine, Kiong Kong, msn-ed me. It was about 4 in the morning. The urge of just keeping shut was there.. but what they hey.. he’s and old friend….. LIVING IN THE UNITED KINGDOM DAMMIT!
Bloody hell all my other pri sch mates are in aussie or nz or kl with girlfriends and tuxedoes and awesome body physiques and here I am brooding over imaginary deaths with a skinny faggot body and a brain that takes 4 seconds to count 32 plus 75. GEEZ!
Kiong’s doing fine… living in a big house with a big lawn in cool Sussex. He told me of the major pollution going on in England so I guess the entire façade of a green Pride and Prejudice land was a stinker up my ass. Tally on, lads!
He invited me over to England and I was like, “NO… YOUUU…. Come to Singapore Rich ass.”
Awesome awesome old friend. After a while he got me on friendster, I checked his photosand he’s now a frigging Jap-lookalike. If I brought him around in Singapore all the girls would be swooning over me trying to get into his pants through me. Damn girls.
A point he brought up was the prejudice between the white ass blond ass hair Brits and Asians. Seems like aint got not much nuh mixing there now. And the gahment here is all so anal with the racial harmony thing.
I have a shout out to the old people sitting behind desks, “YOU WANNA FIX SOMETHING?! FIX ME! FIX A DAMNED SELF-RACIST!”
Then that was that. Maybe I could be his roommate once I get the funds and permission to run off from Singapore before NS.
But damn I hate those Brit accents…
I ran into Javis and Kasson at long john today.
One expression – AAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nb… is this the almighty’s way of nudging me and going, “You need new friends. Here they are!”
This Wednesday’s Javis’s bday and I already have sth in mind for him.
You know, I cant go to sch with public transport early in the morning for nuts. So this coming month I’m going over to Javis’s place to sleep over and tagging along in his dad’s van when he goes to school. Good ol’ times.
Funny how a year ago we both had the biggest fucked up betrayal ever.
Just when i'm planning to stop blogging, fucking jewcake spammers litter the girl's blogs. That's all i needed start blogging again.
School starts at 1pm for me now every Monday. Sweet. I was about to bath when I thought id check the school mail while someone’s laying the smacketh down in the toilet and lo and behold! School starts at 1.
The last night hasn’t been easy for me. Sleeping was a pain in the ass and there was this burning pain in my chest. You know how some quotes or figure of speech thingy sounds so stupid? Like… “burning in my chest?” Well actually it really does feel like so. And that “heart sank” thingy is also real. Whatever.
I dreaded coming to sch today. One, for the big huemangjobous problem im going through now and another because it’s MALAY SOCIETY module!
I mean.. geez…. I’m known to be the biggest racist alive. I’m the biggest discriminator around, dissing anyone just for the skin colour of hair texture. It’s like I’m Hitler and I’m dreaming of the perfect Aryan race.
I came to class and the first thing my tracher Karthini said to me was “Put on this tag”.
I read the tag and it said,”Anak”, which means child. Oh geez.. icebreaker. Let’s stand in a circle and memorize each other’s name!
We had to throw this sepak takraw ball around, saying the word on our tag followed by our name.
So the whole time I was going, “Anak Audi… Anak Audi… Anak Audi, dammit!”
I remember being disgusted by the ball because images of skinny faggots in small girly shorts with their ba long longs hanging out shouting, “Sial” or “Sua” or whatever they have, jumping about with their huge foreheads… eew.
One thing I noticed is that in the class of 20, there were 17 chinese and 3 malays (including me)… and no Indians! Ok so the last few words weren’t necessary.
Then teacher started the lesson and introduced us to the Malays and what they mean.
And it was a real eye opener.
I learnt that malays pretty much started off as sea-farers, wandering around south east asia. Historians cant even put a finger on where they came from. The western view is that they came from Yunnan in China. The Asian view is that they were those people you see in Borneo.
You know what I think? I think they did come from China. Why? Because duh.. China and Africa are the mothers of civilization. And have you seen the Mongolians? They look like a mix of Chinese and Malays! So.. brother brother dun fight each other knn. And the people of borneo.. god knows where they came from. Maybe it’s true as well. Maybe there were two colonies who mixed together, form china and borneo, to form the malays we have today.
Im not sure abuout other people… but I noticed two different types of malays running about in Singapore. One, they have fairer skin, their skulls aren’t humongous and basically have a much more appealing body structure and so on. The other one have huge foreheads, funny shapped jaws, thick lips and they really do look like people you’d see in Sarawak and so forth.
Based on this, this is why I conclude that there could be some mixing with the people of borneo and china. Let’s discriminate now… do the successful ones look anything like those freaks you see in sec school? At least the successful ones can walk straight…
But this is all my point of view so its not the teacher. Anyways We were then asked to make our way to Kampung Gelam in Bugis. Own time own target.
In sec school.. the girls craving for sex and attention would go, “ Haiyarrhhzxxcx…… dun go lerrr…. Waste time onli… I wan 2 spend time wif moi babiee….” And go to block 744 to find guys to fuck their fat thighs.
But no.. this is poly. We are all men and women with brains and attitude. So we went. I was Bugis anyways.. can go shopping.
Made my way with Ke Song, Cia Xin and Fredy. I’m hanging out with adults, for once!
The excursion was set to educate us about the malays in Singapore and yada yada yada all those NE stuff. My first reaction was a big fat warm yawn.
I didn’t know where the hell Kampung Gelam was. Until I saw the Sultan mosque and went.. ohh…..
Cos my dad brings us there a lot of times to eat at Zam Zam… best murtabak and prata in the region.
It’s only quite recently that I realised about this two levels of society within the malay community. And that’s where my discrimination started to get some focus. At the end of the day I wasn’t hating the entire race. Just some parts of it. I’m glad to know my dad came from the respectful line of malays, those who didn’t come as animal worshippers. As he went about on his business trips, bringing us out for dinner with his business partners who were successful malay men… I kinda noticed all these differences between them and those low lifes you see in stereotypes aka under the blocks. Basically the major difference is that one of them works hard the other doesn’t… which applies to the whole world.
Here’s my teacher.. whose father’s name is the same as mine. Khalid… Khalid Johannes McMahon.. LOL.
She brought us to the shophouses for a little talk. In Singapore, shophouses = artsy fartsy craft shops. Noticed that? Everytim u see a shophouse it’s always some small time fashion boutique, art house, designer places and all that. Why, god.. why?
She told us aout the history of these shophouses… which were built by the white ass blond ass hair british when they spread their evil colonies across south east asia. She told us about the five foot walkways which in their time was sth innovative.
Further into kampong gelam.
We were then brought over to the smallest street in Singapore, Haji Lane.
My dad loves to talk about the malay history. I remember many times afte we prayed at the sultan mosque, he’d talk about how all the pilgrims from the region would come to Singapore for a stopover before leaving on that 2-3 month ship ride to mecca. Many died of course. I could die in a 13 hr plane flight from England to KL (Hi kiong kong! Lmao).
He’ll always point out where did the original coast line was before they reclaimed land… what was around that time… what they were selling and all that. Well he’s from the 50s…
For some reason…. The area felt very Kuching-ish. Then I realised it was the shophouses. Then.. duh! British colinising in Sarawak = total bastardization. The area kinda looks like the market along the Waterfront.
Check out my kuching trip in the links below if you’re new…
Mentos, part of the game.
We were then brought over to the Sultan mosque. One of the reasons that keep me away from going for Friday prayers is the smell of footsweat made up of the hundreds of people coming and taking their shoes (God will condemn me but I just wanna give a shout out, hoping sth will change). Why is this so? Why why why why why?!?! Is it so difficult to wear thicker socks? Is it so difficult to drink more water??
But I might be going for Friday prayers again. I found a nice secluded mosque near here. Well it’s been seven years of blasphemy… time to change I guess.
Teacher briefed us on the five pillars of islam.. and the history of the mosque. It started out in the 1800s as a small time wooden mosque which stood for a hundred years. They then got in an Irish architect to rebuild the mosque into solid stone. Ye Irish men got ideas from the Persians and Turkish, he did – spotted all over the mosque, it was.
Then the juicy facts of the mosques. I love this kinda stuff.
The dome is made of gold.
Nah just joking.
When the mosque was being built, people from all over wanted to contribute to the building. Some donated money, other donated other things. But the poor cant give money otherwise they’d die. They also cant give food cos they’ll die. So what they did as sign for their contributions was donating hundreds of those ketchup bottles our mothers have at home.
What useless piece of junk, you say? Well ye Irish man cried a tear, he did, and proceeded to keep all the backsides of the bottle. What he did then was stuck in all those backsides onto the portion below the dome.. which is what you see is the black portion there. And that, my friends, is classic appreciation built on emotions and not anal rational thinking that *ahem* the *ahem* has been shoving up our asses.
The former Istana was nearby as well. We were told of the big hoo haa between the gahment and the descendants of the istana. Gahment wanted to change into one of those…. Meh you know their trends. But the descendents of the king not be wanting that! Gahment fought back that the land was Singapore’s because the Brits actually took it a long time ago, just letting the king reside there as a gesture of goodwill. Because when you spend so much money on a house, you SHOULD own it right? *stares at HDB*
But the descendants said no. Gahment used their classic tactic, “OK LOR… I WiLL NOW GIVE YOU BIG BIG MONEY” and checked the measly allowance that has been granted to the descendents of the king by the british. In total it’s about a few thousand. But distributed to 79 people? That’s like 300 dollars per ass. So gahment said, “NO PROBLEM! I GIVE YOU TEN TIMES MORE THE MONEY! Then you come lick my backside ok?”
So the decendants were given a bongjonious royal sum of FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS…… per year.
Wow.. if I had four thousand dollars per year… wow… so much money…
Of course, this sparked a lot of those “Gahment chee bai racist!” and “Gahment sibeh chao tar heart!” kinda stuff. Add that with the riots and stuff in those times and now that old guy cursing the gahment or all those racism between the old people finally makes sense.
Well it make my dad’s ramblings on the Chinese make more sense. But that’s not enough! So in retaliation I use all his rambling and silent-racist energy and transform it into a loud-mouthed non-sensical nuclear bomb aimed at “my home”. See how all the pieces fall together.. why people act certain ways… just by knowing them more?
This is why history intrigues me so much. The soon-to-be clihe quote of forgetting history means forgetting about yourself or sth is real!
Finally, we were brought to this shop called Grandfather’s collection.
Aweseome place.
This guy collects all those antiques and sells them. They have cranked-telephones, 1950s coke bottles (tons of them), a 50s jukebox… posters.. entire walls of ads torn off from the original buildings… an 1800s coffee grinder… pretty much everything.
I also found those Kiasu toys from macdonalds… and I dunno if my ister remembers this – the KFC coin box that plays music when you put in money. Those were the days when the fat steaming tub were the KFC icon.
Check out the stale soft drinks!
Milk as old as your father.
This dude is a classic. He set up his shot exactly in a way as it was in the 50s. His cash register’s a freaking tin can for god’s sake! It’s hanging from the ceiling and can be pulled up and down. Just like those shop houses in Kuching.
Then he demonstrated all the little old kampong toys. There was the spinning top (that was fun) chapteh.. and so on.
Then he pulled out this piece of plastic. It’s just some thing plastic thing that’s thinner then your normal plastic bag. I’m gonna put it as how he said it.
“Now you see this plastic? Ok this plastic is very special. Cos you see if you take care of this it can last you a life time. You see when I blow this plastic.. it becomes a ball! And then you can play your soccer, or whatever it is. If the plastic break or tear, it’s ok. You just take your magazine or paper, put some glue, put over the whole, then it’s ok you can play again. Then after you finish playing, you can deflate this plastic, fold it at the centerline here.. then if your head is small, you can use it like a songkok and put on ur head so you dun get hot in the sun. If your head not big enough, you can fold it further, ad put in your pocket. So everywhere you go you have your ball. If you wan to play you just blow it. 50 cents for one.”
Then he started throwing the ball up and it just floated like the plastic bad hybrid it is.
And so that ends it.
For some reason I just wanna go back to kuching.
In fact… I will. On the weekend that my family goes to aussie ill sneak over to kuching. Another adventure! Whoo hoo!!!
----
PUDGE
Surpirse surprise!
Pudge has finally been rigged! He can now move like the pig he is!
But of course there are problems. There is plenty is skin stretchingalong the shoulders and the tummy and this is basically because of the lack of polygons for the texture to stick on. So it stretches. Also, the muscles tend to overlap each other when it’s moving so that’s and irritant.
I thought of adding in more character to Pudge so I him have a jaw.
A bit of cleaning up and…
And he’s ready to scream in that rumbling low voice of his!
Those lines you see in his mouth are the skeletons rigged onto him. This is pretty much a simple model but even then the amount of crap in the head alone is a lot. When I grow up, I wanna add facial skeletons to pudge so that his eyebrows can cringe, his nose can enlrage, his eyelids can flip.. and all that. But that’s too advanced for me.
Here’s how he looks like now. So much more character. I tried a few different overall colours for his skin.. seeing what works. I think I liked it when he was green or like this… pale and grey.
----
Last night an old friend of mine, Kiong Kong, msn-ed me. It was about 4 in the morning. The urge of just keeping shut was there.. but what they hey.. he’s and old friend….. LIVING IN THE UNITED KINGDOM DAMMIT!
Bloody hell all my other pri sch mates are in aussie or nz or kl with girlfriends and tuxedoes and awesome body physiques and here I am brooding over imaginary deaths with a skinny faggot body and a brain that takes 4 seconds to count 32 plus 75. GEEZ!
Kiong’s doing fine… living in a big house with a big lawn in cool Sussex. He told me of the major pollution going on in England so I guess the entire façade of a green Pride and Prejudice land was a stinker up my ass. Tally on, lads!
He invited me over to England and I was like, “NO… YOUUU…. Come to Singapore Rich ass.”
Awesome awesome old friend. After a while he got me on friendster, I checked his photosand he’s now a frigging Jap-lookalike. If I brought him around in Singapore all the girls would be swooning over me trying to get into his pants through me. Damn girls.
A point he brought up was the prejudice between the white ass blond ass hair Brits and Asians. Seems like aint got not much nuh mixing there now. And the gahment here is all so anal with the racial harmony thing.
I have a shout out to the old people sitting behind desks, “YOU WANNA FIX SOMETHING?! FIX ME! FIX A DAMNED SELF-RACIST!”
Then that was that. Maybe I could be his roommate once I get the funds and permission to run off from Singapore before NS.
But damn I hate those Brit accents…
I ran into Javis and Kasson at long john today.
One expression – AAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nb… is this the almighty’s way of nudging me and going, “You need new friends. Here they are!”
This Wednesday’s Javis’s bday and I already have sth in mind for him.
You know, I cant go to sch with public transport early in the morning for nuts. So this coming month I’m going over to Javis’s place to sleep over and tagging along in his dad’s van when he goes to school. Good ol’ times.
Funny how a year ago we both had the biggest fucked up betrayal ever.
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