Life of a Pirate

Ahoy, ahoy, let's sail with joy 

Today we scan the horizon 

Looking for some treasure island 

But all we see is the never endless sea 

With waves that take us on a roller coaster ride 

That might throw us overboard for the shark to have a bite. 

The wind is our friend, taking us to where we belong 

As we set our sails, we catch the wind 

The winds of change on the deck

What's below doesn't catch the attention of many

As we take creaking steps to the ship's abyss 

The smell of rotten flesh collides with a whiff of the salted air 

And hits us hard like the tail of a whale 

Any stronger, it could've thrown us off the deck 

We're greeted by pirates, captives from another ship 

While they were busy looting, they didn't see us shooting 

Greed distracted them and sent them right to where we wanted them to be 

The belly of the beast. 

While they sit there being digested 

Their lives are being looted 

By the flesh-eating bugs oozing from their wooden legs. 

Walk the plank.

Aye, aye! 

There's a giraffe tied to your kitchen table. Why?

It was there for the long beans. 

This table was Mr. Giant's favourite dining table. 

The giraffe's favourite tree was growing on this table. 

The Masai tribe are having a break so they've tied their pet giraffe to it. 

If it wasn't tied, it would've run. 

The kitchen table isn't a table yet. It's a huge giant tree with the giraffe's favourite leaves. 

It needed the giraffe's neck as a tool for alignment. The table needed to be placed in a straight position. 

The giraffe was asleep. If it wasn't tied to the table, it would've just collapsed. 

Lion wanted to have a table talk with the giraffe who was too afraid. 

Why not? Do you have a problem with a giraffe tied to a table? 

It's Ikea's new Savannah collection. 

Giraffe saw the most beautiful flower pot on that table and wanted to marry it. 

This table was designed for 8 legs. 

The carpenter had a fetish for long, slender necks. 

Sesame Street wanted to ensure there was some education happening on the table. Enough of TV.

The carpenter took high table way too literally. 

I'm afraid to say that it could be the possibility that it belonged to a restaurant that was taking its concept of farm to table way a tad too serious. 

The answer is simple. That's an African farmer's way of keeping his table from being stolen and carried away from the house. 

The giraffe is not tied to the kitchen table. The kitchen table is tied to the giraffe. 

That's why. 

New Writing On The Block

Writer's block is when you hit the wall. 

It's then the tap is plugged. 

It's when mental diarrhoea has found a cure. 

It's when you transcend into limbo. 

It's when you can't continue typing. 

It's when the exhaust pipe of your ideas is stuffed. 

It feels like the clock has stopped. 

The electricity runs through the fan but the blades don't move. 

It's like when the door is opened and you still can't get out, because there's an invisible glass holding you back. 

A serious lack of emotions. Perhaps an abundance of frustration. 

It's like constipation. Your veins pop in an attempt to push, but nothing makes an appearance. 

Writer's block can happen when you're at your best in the day. 

Writer's block can be in the grave, at graveyard hours. 

Writer's block hits you like altitude sickness sending a big, burly guy into day-long hibernation. 

I can't write anymore. 

Writer's block has happened. 

Twisties City

Twisties song performed flash mob style

KLIA sucks!

First world-infrastructure with third world mentality. And I'm not the only person to testify to that.

Firstly, it is really far from the city. Yes yes, just like all the other airports around the world. But at least they make sure that getting to the city isn't a problem at odd hours and with a price that ensures you don't end up eating rice and salt till your next paycheck.

Just coming back from Bangkok close to mid night, I was tired, sticky and with a churning stomach that was spurting watery mud-like excretion. (and I just initiated Piles High Club with my first dump 30,000 feet above) Thank goodness I was blessed with a nimble, medium-sized body frame with 6-pack abs to achieve the feat of a contortionist, but this was even better - a shitting contortionist.

Well back to why KL sucks. I can vouch that Malaysians are a sneaky, money minded lot. But at the end of the day if it's a win-win situation, everyone's going to close an eye to this disease. I was with Piggy at KLIA, just arriving from a 3-day shopping and eating binge in Bangkok and we had no transport to get back to Subang. It was close to 12am, and ERL service ceases by then. The only choice we had was to take a cab.

As we were approaching the arrival hall, we saw a bunch of well-dressed men (think MIB) with dark coats approaching passengers with an offer to provide hotel accommodation and taxi to the city. Then this short-small-sized Chinese guy approached us. He asked for RM55 to send us to Subang. I haggled the price to RM50 and he agreed. Why RM50? Well because that was the same price we paid to get to KLIA. He told us to follow him, with us naively thinking that he was leading us to a cab waiting outside.

Lo and behold, we ended up at the car park. A burst of suspicious thoughts were running all over my mind. Out of an instant reflex I asked 'You driving us ah?' He coolly answered 'Yes. Even the police personnel at KLIA does this' he answered trying to justify that his act was not laced with any bad intentions. I thought that it was a very smart way to make a quick buck from passengers wanting to get to the city. Doing it on the way back home. And getting paid for it.! What a smart business idea.

As we were chatting with him about his job as a travel agent at KLIA, thinking that we met a new friend, all my friendly vibes quickly dissipated into thin air when I asked him which travel agent does he work at - his answer was 'I don't know' and with a quick change of topic. I can smell something fishy miles away with my sensitive, oversized nostrils that grow extra sensitive nostril hair that can detect a sneaky fishy, son-of -a bitch.

After that, silence filled the air. There wasn't any conversation throughout our journey back. My mind was trying to foresee and quickly come up with a contingency plan just in case he stops at the side of the road with a bunch of his brotherhood bitches to mug us. I wasn't fearing for my safety. But Piggy's.

I was scanning the road looking out for any cars converging at the side of the road. I was constantly observing the driver of our mysterious ride to make sure both his hands were only holding the wheel and nothing else.

As we got nearer to the Subang interchange, in order to throw him of course, just in case he had already planned the whole thing (one in a million chance, but I'm not gonna take any risk tonight) I instructed him to exit at USJ instead of Subang. He did so obligingly. My fears started to subside.

Ok, he didn't have any friends waiting for us somewhere. But there was one last thing he could possibly do. Speed away with our luggage in his boot.

In order to prevent this, as he was approaching the house, I instructed him to stop a few houses away. Don't want any stranger stalking my piggy. (one in a million chance again, but I'm not risking anything). As he stopped parallely to the gate of the house, I made up a story that that particular place is a blind spot, and that he should have his car parked closely to the gate, so there won't be any accident. All this so he wouldn't have an easy getaway. Again he was very obliging. He got down of the car to open the boot. I paid him the money. He left.

Ok, nothing happened! Thank goodness. But what we did was very foolish. Getting into a stranger's car for a cheaper ride back home. Foolish, stupid, and with the saying - penny wise pound foolish. Anything could have happened. There was an opportunity for 1001 things to happen.

So to all of you out there, when you need a ride from KLIA to the city at odd hours, please for goodness sake, get into a taxi or get someone to pick you up. The best option? Get someone to pick you up. Everyone's out there to make a quick buck, or even worse have bad intentions. Trust no one out there.

Mabuk kat Semabuk

‘Mabuk makan’ that is. For the uninitiated, Semabuk is a place in Melaka town, about 5 minutes drive away from Melaka Raya, the sin city of Melaka.

I was in Melaka last weekend. A much needed break to get away from the hustle and bustle of KL. And also something different from the usual weekend clubbing, that further drains my energy supply (whatever that’s left for the weekend). I was eager to find and ‘kena’ some good food in Melaka.

Day 1.

First stop was the infamous Chicken Rice Ball. Oily, greasy balls of rice that’s the craze in Jonker Street. But then again, not all the self-proclaimed chicken rice shops there serve ‘good shit’. I headed for the shop at the start of Jonker Street. My earliest lunch ever in Melaka. 11.45 am. I wanted to be there early to avoid the horrendous lunch crowd. They can be really annoying. But the most annoying thing would be waiting in line just to eat. And that wouldn’t be such a good idea. Because as we all know, ‘hungry people are angry people’.

Besides the usual chicken rice, they also served asam fish. Boy, was that good. They served a big chunk of fleshy siakap, with lady’s fingers, all immersed in a generous amount of asam gravy. The taste was heavenly. I would have fainted in excitement, if there was bread to dip into the gravy. Coz the rice didn’t really go well. So to all of you asam lovers out there, bring a loaf of Gardenia when you come here.


Dinner

Dinner was simply awesome. I was at Golden Phoenix Restaurant, Hotel Equatorial. We ordered 4 main dishes. Fried prawn rolls in mayonnaise (ahhhhh…my favourite) Ostrich Meat kam hong style, (topped with fried, tiny anchovies – simply superb) Broccoli in crabmeat sauce and Braised chicken with Yam (we could have done without that). Just the two of us, with a week-supply of food. How were we ever going to finish all these in one go. Undeterred, we made a pact to finish everything. Only if we thought ourselves as pigs, and with the right ‘piggy’ attitude, no amount of food will be impossible. We started out fine. Halfway through, Piggy No. 1 started feeling a bit uncomfortable. Piggy No. 2 was already burping. But we had a lot more to go. We then took a break. We made fun of our gluttony to while the time away. There was also a theory that the chefs in the kitchen would have made a bet with their colleagues if we could have finished everything.

After the short break, we continued. We went slow to make sure we chewed on everything, because there was no room for error. Or more so, no room for more food. We tucked every bite of food into the corners of our stomach. Just like how we always compress the rubbish in our dustbins. Soon enough, lo and behold, we finished! Hoooooray! It was a great achievement. And to top it all, the chefs lost their bet!


Day 2

Breakfast.

Breakfast was at our hotel, Semabuk Inn. Sausages, scrambled eggs, bread and the odd one - fried koay teow. At first I thought of skipping the fried koay teow. I was already feeling guilty of last night’s bingeing. But ah, just try la. To my surprise, it was bladdy good. One of the best fried koay teows I have every let my hard-to-please tongue taste. It was spicy, greasy and simply awesome. The taste simply indescribable.

Lunch

We didn’t know where to head for lunch. So we thought we’d just drive by Melaka Raya and see if we spot any interesting place to eat. Nothing. Then we headed to Jonker Street. We parked and we walked around. In our quest for food, we discovered a few interesting antique shops. But I’m not gonna blab on that.

We asked the locals if there were any good place to eat. From lunch, we diverted our attention to getting some cendol. Walking around in the blistering heat, is no joke. Hungry, sweaty, sticky, all you can think of is to quench that thirst. And what better way to do that with a bowl of ice-shaven cendol. Jln Bunga Raya has good cendol. So we were told by our friendly pineapple tart seller which we bought 3 containers from.


So we headed there. We couldn’t find the bladdy cendol stall, as described and directed by our friendly local. We were too hungry. Not far from us was this popiah seller. I was quite interested to try whatever he was selling. Hunger was getting out of control. We ordered one each. But it took ages for our popiahs. There were other customers waiting for their popiahs too.

Alas, after about 20 minutes waiting, we got our popiah. It was piping hot. Because he has the ‘sengkuang’ his main ingredient boiling at all times. It was good shit. He’s sengkuang was the one that made the popiah taste so good. And the crispy pig lard just made it even better. Popiah never tasted so good.

Then we found our supposedly famous cendol stall after much asking around. I was anticipating some good shit. But the cendol was a letdown. Bland and watery.

It was time to go back. It was already late afternoon. But I didn’t feel complete. I still haven’t kena some good chedol yet. So we decided to head to the Tan Kim Hock cendol shop which the whole of Jonker Street was recommending us.

On the way there with much anticipation and expectations, we saw another cendol stall by the side of the road. There were lots of people crowding around. I was hesitant about trying it, because after all, we had already decided to go kena some durain chendol. But what made me stop was because this cendol stall was under this gigantic tree which provided a cooling shade. And there were tables around. Some of them makeshift tables. Without wasting time, I stopped by the side of the road. I told myself, if this wasn’t good, I could still head to Tan Kim Hock.


We sat. We ordered. The cendol came. It looked almost the same as the one we had earlier at Jln Bunga Raya. I didn’t expect much. I took a sip of it. WOW! This is it! This is the one! It was good. It tasted different. It had the X-factor that I was looking for all this while. It had something different in it. I shared it with Piggy No. 1. She agreed that it was good. Being a very good cook herself, she identified the X-factor. Salt. That was what made the cendol taste so good.

Where there’s cendol, there will be rojak. Since the chendol was good, I decided to try the rojak. I ordered a plate. My rojak came topped with piping hot rojak gravy. The gravy was dark, as opposed to the light ones that we are all familiar with. This is the first time I have come across rojak served with boiling gravy. Wow. I mixed the rojak evenly so to spread the heat as well. Took the first bite………Ahhhhhhhhh………SUPERB! It was spicy. The kuih rojak was crunchy. The gravy sweet and spicy. Heavenly.

After devouring the rojak and ending it with the cendol, I felt a sense of relief. I DID IT! I found my cendol, and in my pursuit discovered some good shit rojak. WOW! A feeling as close to an orgasm. I was satisfied. Mission accomplished.


It was already evening. Time to go home. But before that, I took some pictures of this Food Utopia. It’s a place that I will remember forever. It made me feel great. It did justice to my tummy. Now it deserves to be in my blog. And I still haven’t gotten over the hangover of Semabuk.

When life isn’t a bitch.

What’s the ultimate form of happiness. How does one ascertain if he or she has attained a contented life? But then again, we humans are an ungrateful lot. As Maslow’s hierarchy of needs says ‘we can never attain self-actualization.'

As days go by, life seems a little sweeter. Everything seems to be falling into place nicely, maybe I’m just blinded with all that euphoric feeling rushing though my blood, or maybe reality IS actually taking place. As we all try to associate our lives with a friggin’ roller coaster, (damn you Ronan), I feel like I’m slowly climbing to the peak of the ride, anticipation and excitement building rapidly. I can’t wait to reach the peak so I can enjoy the adrenaline rush when the ride takes the plunge down. But then again as we all know excitements are always short-lived, and the cycle starts all over again.

So there you go, if life is a roller coaster then happiness won’t last forever. For every all-time high, there will be an all-time low. My ride is still climbing. Hope the peak is high enough for me to savor every bit of the excitement to my heart’s content. Slurrrpp...