Sleepless Nights 35 - When The Ooperwalla Hits you.

He really knows where and how to hit you so that you'll backflip and crash into a cactus fifteen miles away. He and his reality TV shows.

Anyway, this blogpost is a tribute to the night that I will one day look back and say 'Holy shit, I did that?' since I will and have been studying non-stop for the past... God knows. So I decided every time I should fail to concentrate, I will post a song but before that, some humour.

"... Rupture occurs with acute increase in intracranial pressure such as straining at (passing) stool, exercises and sexual intercourse..."

You see what the big man did? He gave you a disease where he took three of the most fun things to do and you can die because you do them. A humiliating death. You're about to dump a huge load, something pops in your brain, you die. You're humping the girl of your dreams (Maybe it is a dream. HAH!), something pops, you die. You're jogging, something pops, you die. You. Die.

Enough on that, first video:




Officially addicted to metric. I shit you not, they're good.


Hot women headbanging and making art. Seriously, how can you not like that shit.


I know, the woman actually looks fucking retarded (I regret not saying this) but her voice is awesome and so is Andrea Bocelli's. Oh and he's blind and even so, he's more awesome than you. Suck that, perfect human beings!



... Holy crap, she's fucking hot...

And hence; Pathology is taken care of.

I don't get to say this much...

So I am going to ramble on and on until your ears bleed out every milliliter of blood. Then I'm going to put you beside a vampire and make fun of the vampire. Cause you're pale, see, and I'll call the vampire an Asian. See? Vampires are pale but now you're paler, so the vampire will look tanned and hence- Rajinikanth!

Seriously, are your ears bleeding yet?

Digression.

Point is, today was, simply put, fucking awesome. It's like I was a Japanese superstar on a plane out of Japan and looking out the window, I see a mushroom cloud over Hiroshima. I had impregnated a demon-girl in Hiroshima and she's going to give birth to sextuplet anti-christs. Now the world is safe and I get to bang another demon chic, possibly Ramona Flowers, but you know, I'll settle for Amy Lee.

(Demon form includes thick eyeliner, french maid costumes; cause demons are sluts, six inch stilettos and uh... Bondage. And maybe even bat wings. Mini ones. Pay attention, man.)

But... I'm awesome...

Wait, where was I. Oh yes, I was being awesome. Let's begin.

So, number one, no sleep at all which is no big of a deal really but being awesome, I must include suspense, which meant I'm not finished. Seriously, try to keep up. So, no sleep at all, but I went through the day without fatigue. At all. In fact I feel fucking hyper. This might be due to the gargantuan amount of coffee I downed through the process of upping my already awesome self but lets ignore that fact and leave it to the envious people to whine upon. Point being, no sleep, no fatigue, yes awesome.

Two. I downed a dangerous amount of coffee even for a... uh... seasoned caffeine participant such as yours truly. The awesome part is that I did not get the nausea/gastric pain/ MY STOMACH IS ON FIRE!!! part. I just felt insanely good. And hyper. And mildly high. And Scott Pilgrim.

Three. I went down, out of my residence and almost immediately, some dude asked me for a light. Happens all the time. Then I knew a fraction of what Prometheus felt like when he gave fire to the measly humans. Seriously, this, I shit you not. I know that I fabricate most of my stories through my sheer awesome imagination but this shit is so fucking absurd that I cannot make it up. As I walked past the dude above, two others asked for a light. At a gas station, which I shall make no further comments on. Then twenty meters or so further up the street; this happened:

It was not a Shelby GT500. It was a 4x4.

and then;

It was not a tram, I wasn't walking on the tracks, and... Fuck.

Anyway, a 4x4 came speeding right in my direction and because of my uber-awesomeness, I did not flinch. Again, it might be the dying nerves in my brain, but seriously man, envy is really a bad thing. At the last moment, the car swerved to the right a bit, narrowly missing me and it came to a screeching halt. The tinted windows from the driver's side came down, and sitting there was some dude with more cockiness than a cock. He asked for a light, drew deeply, exhaled and held his fist for me to pump. Then he fucked off. All the while, my face looked somewhat like this:

With eyebrows.

There was another guy who asked me for a light but he seemed unsettling so I shall not mention him.

Four. I went to arabic handwriting and bullshit my way through it without getting stared at. I even got one fucking right. WITHOUT HELP.

FIve. Seriously, I'm still not tired.

Six. Walked from the Convention Centre to the main road by the sea in an approximately straight line and not stopping. No, not even for traffic. Cause you know, aura and puppies and blankets.

Wait. Where did that sword go?

Finally. I hopped on a tramco that was empty. At 4 pm. If you are not in Egypt, then this might not seem of grave importance, somewhat childish even. But my awesomeness will make you think twice because fuck, why would I write it down? But seriously, the tramco was empty, totally empty only me and the driver, all the way till I reach home, in which at the moment I stepped out, people hoarded said tramco.

Jesus fuck you know what, I'm gonna go consume the moon.

Of course, time will eventually run out.

Henceforth, we will all die before knowing why the fuck God put us on this damned place anyway.

If you haven't realised yet, this is going to be a random post.

I want to learn how to waltz. For no reason whatsoever. Then,  will proceed to the nearest ero-shop and purchase a blow up doll, and go home and waltz all day with it. Then I will throw cucumbers at it. Just to observe what it'll do.

Every house should have these: A knife sharpener (Until the creation of lightsabers, that is), a Tesla coil and holes drilled in the four corners. The photos that would be produced would be nothing short of epic and  tad bit higher than legendary. But come to think of it, every house should have a Meg White in it, maybe one that sings when it's plugged into a socket. And uh, do some other stuff but of course, we focus on the singing. Then they should make an alternate version which gives buyers a choice like Dolores O' Riordan, Hope Sandoval and hmmm, Amy Lee. Yes.

If the future is not something like that, I will destroy the world.

Expect this by your doorstep.

I have a newfound obsession with Jollyjack's denizens. I want them in my life so much, they should be turned into a fucking cereal brand. Of a coffee brand. Or they should be changed into clothing. Oh yes. Oh yessssss.....

The fuse box in my house buzzes twenty four hours. I'm expecting it to finally stop and start issuing orders like 'You shall detach me from this horrid, cockroach infested wall and fuse with me; peasant.' or 'Skynet was y friend...' Sigh. I miss geeking out.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame didn't induct Ronny James Dio. I'm surprised to find that there are, in fact, things which could pose as immoral to me. If this was blasphemy, God materialise himself and start hurling mountains. This transcends every insult in the book. Damn you to the hell of faggotry!

I hate my home's water heater. Plainly, it's function is only to mock me in the mornings. I mean, the middle stream of water is only slightly warm but the surrounding streams are cold. It's like they're telling you at 7 in the morning: 'If you wanna get to the good part, you gotta go through us fuckers first. And even when you get to the good part, we're gonna be there all... bath... long.' Honestly, if water heaters can exhibit any sign of emotion, this fucker will be cackling all day long.

I have a parasitology presentation tomorrow. I can imagine myself right now going through the whole thing without as much as a stutter but I know that tomorrow, I'm going to go up there and the retard switch will be on. Judging eyes everywhere, laughter; when you make a slight mistake... If I was ever blessed by being schizo, I would be munching on eyeballs by the time the presentation is done with. Oh yes... If only...

I've always wanted to be hit by a vehicle. Not in a suicidal kind of way, I pray that if it ever happen, I will survive and maybe walk up and light a cigarette. It's alluring, so many people go through it. I should find more friends who are willing to do so. Hmmm... Now who owns car... I imagine that it would hurt considerably but to what extent.. Does one feel it after being hit or does it happen right on impact?

And of course, furries. How can one not like them. It's the whole package of two things awesome merged together.

I... Well... Obviously something went wrong here.

I blame Japan entirely and to certain extent, Jollyjack for making me fall so deep into the pit of all things disturbing. It's funny how they make it so fucking comfy down there. But then again, they do have that creative touch they out into those tentacl- NARGHHHH! My sanity!









GAAAAAAHHHH!!!! WHY MEG????!!!! WHY??????????????!!!!!!!!!

In Memorium 082020112010

I realised that I still have issues of letting go. For that split second, all of her warmth, all of her compassion, all of herself in an overwhelming entity came back. Just for a few seconds. That touch. Those small hands with a grip tighter than anyone's. She used to hold on, but now she's the one who's guiding.

This is the reason I hate mornings.

Sleepless Nights 34 - Nope, Still Don't Care.

A few people have had the liberty to point out that right now I'm in the third year of the art-of-killing-people-and-blaming-it-on-the-god-damn-thing-that's-in-the-body. So naturally, many mature and wise sages came to me talking bout ethics and stuff and you know, how patients are to be treated with utmost consideration etcetra etcetra. Which got me thinking.

I honestly do not give a shit. Sure, right then and there I'll do my best to save somebody's life and it will bug me if somebody died under any circumstances but that, I believe, is just because of the mystery of it. Solving the mystery equals saving the life, if he/she/said cretin fails to live and blueball me, well fuck yeah, that would bug me. However so, I can safely say that personally, it's all about the money.

I would, since I have been given the chance, to say this to all those ethical(er)-than-thou people out there who are shaking their head and criticising this right now:

Number one on the list is that doing so makes me on a different level of professionalism. I do my job, I go home, I sleep, I wake up, I do my job. Period. No attachments, no being a fellow weeper, no mourning, no flirting with hot nurses. Wait. Cross of that last one. I'd probably do that.

Number two: I sleep more easily at night, drink my coffee in the morning feeling awesome. If the patient lives or vice versa, it won't affect how my coffee tastes.

Number three: I spend money without a hint of guilt, since I accept the fact that those buggers will die anyway.

I dunno, if you really want to do the opposite of all that and be proud of what you did then truly, I don't give a shit but do it somewhere other than in a hospital. Go join a non-profit organization, go to Africa and give free medication, go anywhere that you won't get in the way of other people trying to save lives. If you can do that, not only I will cease to care but in fact, you'll command respect from me. If you, however choose to do all that right in the safety and comfort of your snuggly lil bedroom in the hospital, then for fuck's sake, go take a shovel and start digging a six feet deep hole because you're gonna get nearer to it.

Yay you!

*

Things seldom make an impact on my life, especially people. They're so unimpressive, with unimpressive faces and unimpressive attitudes. Right now, from my point of view, even douchebaggery is impressive to me because fuck, you people are godawesomely boring. I'm reduced to having to choose between 'Mindless Fucktard whose lies are powerful enough to make the eye of Sauron blink rapidly', 'Transcended Douchebag with extremely bad camwhore photos on his phone and refers to self as the ladies man', and last but not least 'Me'.

Trust me, that would be my last resort.

So, with no due respect I say this, why the fuck is everybody making a big deal out of something so fucking small, it doesn't even matter? Have you people actually come to a point that life here got so oppressive and boring that you close your eyes, randomly point in one direction and decide to hate whatever is there? It's fucking ridiculous and by god it is so fucken annoying.

It scares me that you people are in fact the same back home. That's it, seclusion time.

Perversion.

I've been ranting on and on for so long now, I guess it's about time I write about something serious.

As usual it's about writing in general. Why? Because I'm awesome.

*

What tears me apart nowadays is how the general public refers to writing. It used to be an intellectual hobby, somewhat elegant and classy. Yet nowadays, all we have is this: Extremely bad grammar, spelling which would put a toddler to shame and the lack of study and material put into said writing. I admit right now that I am not a lover of what the public calls fan-fiction, however, I do know that it takes quite a lot of skill to write a piece as shown here. What truly disappoints me is that some of these so called authors of the new age, just do not care about what they write.

Now I know, some of you might go ahead and present to me your rebuttal, saying that it does not matter, all is good if the readers like it. I agree, but only to a certain extent. Correct me if I am wrong but how is it that one writes masterpiece after masterpiece is one does not love one's own writings? Frankly, I do believe that it is preposterous, impossible even. Having no love for your writing is; and forgive me for giving this example, like trying to procreate without a partner and that is exactly what you see nowadays. Too many people are trying to gain fame and in the end, writing becomes just another means of greed. The pattern goes as follows: Write as many as possible, promote it by ways which by all means is abominable and then watch as it is either loved or left to rot. And if it does rot, the cycle begins once more.

I remember having a brief chat with a distant cousin, who herself is a fellow writer. Good or not, I forbid myself to decide because I have never set eyes upon her material. As we were discussing about certain authors, she sad to me and I quote '... so I've decided to race you. Our goal is to become the first to write the great Malaysian novel...' Of course, I did not overreact and slap her with my gloves, because one; she's four decades older (Yes, hence the term distant) and two; I do not own any gloves. Only gauntlets. Digression.

That showed me though what writing has degenerated into nowadays. A race. A common game. Mankind has succeeded once again into destroying one of it's finest jewel.

Laziness has now come over me. I shall retire and rest.

One last thing.

Fuck. It's never complete without that eh?

Sleepless Nights 33 - So what?

Elrond is a half-elf. I know that as a fact. He is the son of Earendil and Elwing and he has a twin brother, Elros.

Why? Well, it's simply because I'm a Tolkien addict.

My top five most awesome thing in the Universe or the Multiverse, however the frak you refer to it, are as follows:

1. Knowledge.
2. Human nature.
3. Manipulation.
4. Galactic Filaments, or simply the Uni(Multi)verse itself.
5. Chics dressing up as Darth Vader. Tight fitting leather of course. With the mantel.

Why? The first four are considered blasphemy if I were to find the actual need to explain it, but the fifth. Tsk, simply because Darth Vader has one and only one deficiency i.e. breast and the human genital system. And if a woman dresses up as him, it pretty much solves the equation to life which goes like:

Bet you didn't notice the heels...

I actually would take a portion of my time to debate about the Hippocratic oath. There's too many loopholes, so many flaws, and most of them goes against self-preservation of the physician. I bother to, when people would just look at it, shrug, say the goddamn thing and erase the whole memory of it.

I experiment on myself almost every single time something pops up which shows signs of being fucking awesome albeit the minor side effects of illness, etc etc. Why? For one, human experimentation has been disallowed by the fuckers who apparently transcended humanity by setting a code of conduct in Medicine. Hint: Ethics. Then there's the issue of, shall we say, minor injuries. If I do it to myself, I can only complain and whine to myself eh?

I listen to ABBA almost everyday and think that Dancing Queen is one of the most awesome songs ever. EVER.

I don't believe in offenses which is inflicted without any physical damage. You know, insults, extreme sarcasm and of course, almost always, truth. If you're acting like a fuck, then expect me to respond in a fucked up manner. Seriously, you asked for it and you do not have any right to whine and bitch about it. If you don't like it, then ignore, leave or come up with a rebuttal. And there you are, so prim and proper telling me that I should be more honest. Honey, if I am to be more honest than I already am, it's easier for me to hand you a gun and give you the moral support you need to pop a cap into your suddenly soft skull.

Now that you have known, stop fucking asking me.

My point:

So what if I'm a Tolkien addict? Does that make me a hobbit wannabe? Does that make me want to create my little own Shire with genetically engineered people and make 'em sing and dance while I smoke a pipe? So what if I have fetishes? At least I know to what extent I am fucked up and twisted in the brain. Do you?

So fucken what if I love to debate and point out errors and continue fighting even if it's a lost cause? That doesn't make me an anal retentive Mr. I Know Everything egoistic fuck. It just means that I like to question. So what if I manipulate? Hint: Everybody does it, the best example is this. Why do you ask your friends for help and not some stranger on the street? You know that there's a far bigger chance that you'd benefit more from these 'friends' and that's it. Go ahead and give me a lecture about the whole thing being based on trust and cotton candy, at least I am able to accept the fact and go for more.

So what if I listen to ABBA and memorize the lyrics to most of their hits? I was brought up with those songs playing in the car by the strongest woman I know. If it makes me a fag then fuck it, I'd be the most awesome fag in the world because I'd go that far for my Mother.

So what if I'm brutally honest? You deserve it.

Superficiality and shallowness. That's what's fucking wrong with the lot of you.

Hey look! It's you!

Cheers.

SInce We're on the Damned Subject...

'... There are no sequelae to the disease, the patient either recovers completely or dies.'

I guess that's why they made medical text convoluted and extremely complicated. Imagine a patient reading that. Yeah, someone told me that Medicine is '... an extremely respected profession, as soon as you get a Dr. in front of your name, immediately the general public will realise that you have an edge...'

We don't need Freemasons or the Illuminati in the world... All people need to do is dig a little deeper into the medical profession and lo and behold...

Best example is from the Microbiology book. After going on and on about fucken rabies, they restored their reputation by saying this: 'In developed countries, canine rabies has been controlled, so human rabies develops from bites of wild animals (bats, foxes, raccoons and shrubs.)

Did you miss that?

Shrubs. Here's a picture in case you're still not getting it.

I KNEW IT!

Yes, the most controversial scandal that has been unearthed yet... Shrubs have teeth (sharp ones) and they can bite and infect you with a deadly disease... The betrayal of the medical world... WHO'S UNETHICAL NOW?!

*

Enough on med ey. It gets you sick. Anyways, what's with the resurgence of Family Guy nowadays? It's like everybody is watching it... What happened to The Simpsons?

Sleepless Nights 32 - Hands Up If You're Drifting Away.

You know these kinda situations. You start out as best of friends then 5-6 years into the future, you look at each other and you realise that: Fuck, you didn't know the bastard after all.

Google search for 'Fuck, you didn't know that bastard'

My point is that people are meant to drift away. It's like a self-preservation mechanism or something; I mean can you fucking imagine living with the same person for a few decades? Sleeping under the same roof, smoking the same joint, eating at the same table. Wait. That reminds me of something. Something vaguely familiar... Something...

GAHHH!!!

Back to the main point. It sucks surely, not being as close as you were. Then again, if that person who you already grew to trust bla bla bla were to do something to fuck up your life, the damage would be so much more fucked up wouldn't it? Dammit, I've lost my train of thought.

*

I've had this thought in my mind for quite awhile now. Looking at our own body, in fact looking into it, it's actually plausible for us to be a cell in a much bigger organism. I mean who are we to say that our fucken RBCs or gametes or lymphocytes aren't in fact thinking that they're just another fully functioning organism? For all I know they could be sitting down, tanni gedegak-ing just like we occasionally do. Maybe they're looking up and seeing what passes as stars and shit and they themselves are thinking that 'Fuck, the universe is a fucken huge place...' when in fact, they're just cells in our bodies. And we might be the same. What if the Milky Way is just some goddamn tissue? If our own cells can be infected with a disease like fucking Plasmodia, then isn't that they're definition of being sick?

*

Is anybody else as obsessed with 'You Only Live Once' as I am? I mean fuck, how awesome can a song get?

Being 19

It just occured to me how utterly awful it is living life as a 19 year old person.

For one, 19 is an odd number, which simply means that its a number that equals that of an undecided nature. There's this constant demon that reminds me that hey, you were 18 last year, you had fun and shit. Now you're 19, the last year of your teenage life. And what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing with your life? 20 is coming, and so is responsibility. See, being 19 is like having a session with a psychiatrist and he asks me to look back and think hard bout my life. So I did.

I realize I'm a fuck up.

Then there's the issue of my teenage life coming to an end. How unfortunate that it's a big thing. I like being a teenager, I get away with a lot of shit. I get free stuff constantly and hell, being young is just fucking awesome. This thought keeps coming to me. This is my last year as a teen and what the fuck am I doing? Fucking wasting it in Egypt.

Heck, when this shit start to invade my mind, everything clicks together... I mean, looking at my first few posts, it seemed so fucking cheesy, disposable even. I'm not even making much fucking sense now.

I guess I'll wake up tomorrow and realise how foolish I've been tonight and laugh it off. Of course I am, it's fucking human nature isn't it. Dammit all.

41 degrees

Why is it so bloody hot... Ah fuck, more migraine then.

Anyways, I actually gained 10 kilos since I arrived in awesome Malaysia and heck, it doesn't bother me. Finally for once I actually got pass the 60 kg barrier.

For the first time in my life - I'm not shitting you on this - I did not go back to Penang. It's a funny feeling really, as if I've just lost something.

I finally understood what people have been saying about times changing and shit. Zip! Before you fucking know it, you've aged two decades. 'These are the times that you have to man up and show to everybody you parents especially that you can take care of yourself. No more fucking around, being an adult and shouldering responsibilities is not, in fact, limited to your age. You can be 12 years old when you become an adult, it all depends on the situation. Your time is now.' Thanks Bu.

Also, for the first time, I find myself with way too much material to work with. There's 3000 pictures from Europe which needs editing and fuck, so far, I've only finished Rome. Okay, I lied, I'm not even done with Rome. Fuck. Damn you Michel Angelo and whatever artists that made those awesome art.

A few days later, there'll be a wedding, then a few days after, back to Egypt. Oh and a test a few days later later. Yeah, life's good.

*

'I'm not even kidding.' She stared at him with a glint of annoyance in her eyes.

'I know you're not, and why am I under fire here? I didn't even mock you.' All he wanted was suspense.

'Well, what's your answer then?'

'Who am I to deny you of your love? The only thing I could do right now is acknowledge the fact. Yeah, you love me, now I know that but hey, you can continue loving me and I will say nothing to stop you.' She looked at him, in confusion and a slight tinge of anger started to smear her canvas of emotion. He down the rest of his tea in one gulp, flicked his cigarette and stood up. As he walked away from her, he muttered.

'Don't.'

Falling Madly in Love with Hope.

Hope Sandoval is the fucking reincarnation of fucking Eve.

Oh fuck, I'd starve myself till I die to get her to sing for me. God damn it.

Mazzy Star: Flowers in December

Sleepless Nights 31 - Well.

I guess I'm fucken back now aren't I?

Now try saying that in an Irish accent. And this part too if it pleases you. Great fun (Pronounced as fon).

Ah fuck, here we go again.

I'll catch you if you fall.

So you made a decision, good for you, I'm happy either way. You might be put under pressure later on by anybody be it family or friend but just know this. Whatever you do, I'll be there and heck, treat you to coffee or something while you talk about it and I, as always, being awesome and everything, will listen and laugh and help you the best I can.

All the best mate, yeah, fuck medicine ey?

Oh to everybody else, I'm on hiatus right now, if you want to *cough* should *cough* visit my other blog, its uh... Whats the url again ah... Hmmmm.... *Googles*

http://zufarismailzeidtravelblog.blogspot.com/

Cheers.

062002082010

This was meant to be a funny post, written by a sleepy funny guy, for the funny to read and be fucking merry. Then I thought, heck, it can't be a funny post since I'm not a funny guy (Sarcasm is excluded from this context) and fuck it, there is no humour in this world. Best part is? That's funny.

This post is in fact, depressingly monotonous, written by an anti-social with a deep rooted and biased annoyance towards most of what he sees in which he finds no basis for. In short, this is a post about self-murder. By an asshole.

People constantly pester me with all those terms you know. 'Life is too short', 'You only live once' etc etc when fuck they don't even fucken know what it truly means. Life is too short? Strip naked and start molesting people walking down the street. You only live once? Then make the best of it and stop whining.

I admit, I'm all ears when you have a problem and you start to bitch about life, I might not give some good advice but fuck, at least I'm listening. What pisses me off is not when you repeatedly come by and say the same damn things, what gets to me is that you ain't doing jackshit to try and improve said problem. It says a lot about who you are and fuck, it makes you boring.

Yeah you have problems. Step into my shoes and see how it feels.

The world is fucked up and everyone is going with the flow. To me, if I want somebody's help, I go to the person and ask personally. Nowadays, people give half assed requests on the phone and expect me to help. Fuck that. You wanna go emo and shit? Thank the heavens for that. Gives e one less reason to say sorry.

I'm an anti-social. Accept the damn fact already. None of your 'Please, for me?' shit is gonna help in pulling me out of this hole. I choose to be here. Voluntarily. Being with you people is extremely tiring and that's not the worst thing. To think that I have to stoop down to your level and fake all the things that I do. Thats bull. If you can't accept it then say it. Most of you keep on faking that shit thinking that hey, maybe one day he'll change. To hell with that, it makes you a worse human being than you already are. Say it out loud, scream it for all I care, at least then I'll have a reason to respect you.

I always give chances to people because yes, as much as I know that nobody ever fucking changes, there might be a chance that they'd realise what a faggot they've been. But it's funnny though how when I decide to cut all bonds and pretend that you don't exist, you come crying back. Yeah. Laugh. That some funny shit right there.

Doppelganger.

I was waiting for some form of transport to get me home. I thought heck, if it takes a minute longer, I'm gonna walk home. Looking round, a foreigner caught my attention. Well, a girl around my age to be precise. Yet it wasn't those slightly short skirt, nor the fact that heck, she was pretty good looking, but just the fact that looking at her, was as if looking into a mirror.

It was this awkward two minutes or so when I, standing and she, walking just stared at each other. It was somewhat surreal, and surely one of the most engaging two minutes of my life. What I saw in her, it scared me, it's just my nightmares manifesting itself in the form of a girl.

The same dissatisfied frown with curved eyebrows to match it and going lower, there... were these eyes that just cried out in agony, this unspeakable myriad of confusion, not knowing whether it's hatred or sadness that she was supposed to feel, the strength that she had to stop it all from undergoing a massive eruption into oblivion... Her lips pursed, stagnant, there was no giveaway, no hint of any emotion, her face was like a layer of ice over the turbulent waters of a raging river...

I... was taken aback. To hell with home, if I could freeze time, that would be the exact moment I'd do it. She came closer and closer, my desire of anonymity began to waver, I wanted to know her, I wanted to jump into that turbulent water, I wanted to drown in it, I want it flooding my lungs, suffocating me, I wanted to asphyxiate knowing that I've at least taken a dive, at least I've done something... Closer and closer, ten steps, now eight, six, five...

Until I suddenly came to a realisation that she was inches away from me... I should have looked away, but for once, my eyes refused, my efforts were futile. She was also looking straight at me, the world was silent for once, it was only us, only the two of us, the only two sane humans staring at each other surrounded by a corrupt and insane world.

Then she, in a somewhat childish way snapped back to reality, and took a step back and looked left and then right, then back to me, and in one of the most anti-climactic moments of my life, she walked away. Just like that. No conversation, not even the slightest sound, she left. I turned to at least refresh my memory of her face, one that in two minutes, gave such an impact to my entire being but all I see was the black skirt, and a backpack that she was lugging around. In the movies, this would be the scene where she makes a sudden turn around and still unsure, I'd walk to her and a heart-warming conversation would take place.

She continued walking in the opposite direction, and funnily, I wanted to follow but my legs refused, it told me that some things are better left alone, better not tampered with. It's as if that very moment had been converted into a painting, into a masterpiece with a flaw that everybody notices. I wanted to correct that flaw but somehow I knew that if I did that, it'd no longer be a masterpiece, it would be just another perfect work of art, just another painting. Just another normality in life. So I refrain, closing my eyes and searing the two minute memory into the back of my head.

Names.

The one with abundance met the unique.

And from their union sprang forth four.

The first; is triumphant, victorious, conquering everything her heart yearns for.

The second; devout, she denies herself from material comfort.

The third; a leader, he governs and all look to him for solace.

The forth; a lion, he carries the might of an army.


And I go 'Holy shit...'

And Lady Insomnia said; "I'm back honey, how've you been?"

And we proceeded to make sweet, sweet love. Well, sort of.

For the past few days I've been getting these dreams, then waking up to find out that I've only slept 2 hours. When I try to dive back in, milady tugs at my boxers and pouts her mouth.

How can I resist ey?

I swear, one of these days, I'm gonna end up collapsing in front of the main road and get run over by a tramco or even better, the tram. Ah well, I guess it means the inevitable break up between us. Nothing last forever ey woman?

Talking about dreams, I wonder where those gruesome ones went... Waking up in terror with sweat pouring out of my pores, and then not sleeping again for fear of what might come next... I gotta admit, I kinda miss that. I remember having recurring dreams about wolves chasing me across a conveniently placed snowy plains and then obviously, I fall and there'll be this slow motion scene where the wolf walks up to my screaming self and the details are so clear... The fur coat, the drool, the piercing glare... The teeth, slightly yellow and then those jaws widen, the tongue depresses, closer, closer still until it clamps shut over my windpipe; I struggle to breathe and then... I wake up, gasping for air and replay the scene while having a cigarette...

Such a beautiful scene really, the prey and the predator, the inevitable cycle...

Like that, only two inches from face.

Finals are on, being a bitch as usual, more like the kind where you're forced to submit yourself cause she has your family in her clutches of evil. Or because she's that hot and seductive and all the hormones being released causes all the wires in your head to cross link and short circuit. Or both. You know, it happens.

At least it's halfway done, by using the metaphor above, she's already in your room criticising every object, every instrumental CD, every piece of haiku. Well, at least she's there mate, at least she's there.

J-Rock has now embedded itself into my music centre and it refuses to go away. Bloody X-Japan... Why do you guys make such good instrumentals? WHY? I mean, you look like walking gay hippie rainbows!

Gay hippie rainbows. On meth.

Ah well...

Lady Insomnia is tugging at my boxers again... Be right back...

Lucid Dreams.

I took a nap for two hours and I lucid dreamed. No, lucid dreaming is not another fancy way to say wet dream, it's far from that. It's dreams where you control what you do.

I won't go into details but fuck, I made decisions in there that I've always wanted to. No second thoughts, no hesitations, just a straight up answer... And it felt good.

What went on was everything I wanted, and putting that aside, I felt something that I've not felt since years ago. Well, frankly because she was there but other than that, it was the whole dream thing you know? Wait who am I kidding it's cause she was there and I did what I was too scared to do. Fuck that was awesome.

Though I must say, there were some pretty fucked up people in there. One of em tried to bake us in a giant oven. A fucking oven man. Thank god for her kids for letting us go. I think I killed her, but I'm not that sure...

I woke up with this feeling of depression and happiness awkwardly meeting each other in an alley with nowhere to go. Depressed because what happened in the dream was not out of reach in reality. It could've happened and fuck I hate myself for it. Happiness because, heck, I saw her smile man. And she groped me, but thats not part of the main issue her. Most of you go 'Ain't that sweet etc etc' and I'm not gonna deny that because she was all that. Give or take a few flaws, you know.

Come to think of it... She was owned... Hmmm... Ah well, forget what I said, it's cause she's owned. I have this complex where women with partners are the bomb. It's like the relationship is covering her beauty. Yes, I'm that messed up but hey, who are you to say anything, you've got your own fucked up shit. While I'm at that, here's an apology to the relationships that I indirectly plotted to destruction.




But fuck, it felt so damn good.

Seriously.

I'm an extremely private person, I don't like to share what happened to me or what I plan to happen to me, especially to people I don't know that well. Yet people prod and poke and try to drill a fucking hole. For God's sake, I don't even tell my best friends what goes on in my brain, except for the minor details.

When you say 'Why all the secrecy?' and I answer 'Why not?', I'm not fucking joking. I do it because I can afford to, and I can bear the burden that you cannot bear. Face the fact that some people need to open up and some; like me, are born with a hard shell and we prefer to keep it clamped shut. It does not make any of us superior, nor does it makes us inferior. We're bound to be ourselves.

I have sins from my past that I cannot get rid of, deep inside, I know that hell, there's no way I can be forgiven for it. I was young, I was fucking stupid. Too stupid. Yes, I can't sleep at night when i dream of what I did, yes I sometimes go to such lengths to see if I can still feel a somewhat larger amount of pain to counter the one that's been festering in me. However, these reasons still does not give you any fucking right to act like a messiah. I don't need one and frankly, you are not qualified.

Yes, look to me as a freak of nature, an Aleister Crowley even, I prefer that but don't, for fuck's sake don't look at me as one of your own. I do not want to be a part of it and I prefer to be alone. In one way or another, I will drag you down.

Trying to give me advices are futile because since I'm a pretty big jackass (A knowledgeable one at that, if I may add) I will overrule your words and you will hate me for it. You're human, it's bound to happen. Besides, I don't listen, even when I should, my mind is free and it's wild and it's shrewd.

They once said I was that guy, someone that's gonna make it big. I smiled but inside, all i was thinking of was 'How the fuck can you see the future?' As far as I was concerned, I worry only about today and not tomorrow. Even a hobo can make it, it doesn't matter who you are.

Fuck.

Where The Fuck Is My Special K

1. Ketamine

 

2. Often obtained by breaking into animal hospitals, this liquid-state tranquilizer can be poured over a mirror, dried, and diced into a powder ready for rave-happy snorting.

 

Example: Let's get tweeked on some special k at the rave tonight.

 

 

I spent some time today, seriously thinking over stuff and I realised that all my life is like a concrete mixture right now, in which the concrete is mainly problems.

I hate it when it comes to a point where things that are supposed to be filled to the brim with happy smiling faces and at some point; hot kinky sex, can be the cause of fucking annoying headaches.

I know, I'm a goofball, most of the time, I talk about jackshit that may be educative (... Going doggy gives a much deeper penetration you know?) but nonetheless, not open for practical use (... Ping-pong balls over your eyes, then shine a red light, 30 minutes and you'll start hallucinating. Without drugs. Awesome ey?).

However, when I get serious, or start talking sense, for the love of fucking kinky sex, listen and fucking do it (You might wanna postpone the event you know, I might not be coming home. Next year seems good no?). While I may be frolicking in the fucking cesspit of a brain I have, at one point or another, I sometimes get fucking tired of it and decide to go swim in some pristine fucking water instead. For fucks sake, listen. Listen!

FOR THE LOVE OF KINKY SEX

Christ, if my plans get fucked because of this I'm gonna start popping caps into knees. And assholes. AND ASSHOLES.

Then there's fucking mites or bed bugs or whatever the fuck it is that's been biting me at night. Sooner or later I swear I'm gonna start swallowing moth balls. Fuck.

FUCK.

Of course, all this will pass, then bla bla bla I'll have kids, a beautiful wife and a perfect life. That's in the fucking future you faggot, I live in the fucking present. At the rate I'm going my balls will be devoured by these fucking parasites. So much for the perfect life ey?

Then there's this blog, it's fucking rubbish. I'm starting to believe that Malaysians are really the folks that read a page a year, nobody fucking reads nowadays. 'But that's cause you write stuff in such a vulgar manner!' Well here's some fucking news that your illiterate brain won't be able to fucking understand, it's only vulgar when you think it is. Transcend god dammit! Transcend! Can you not see past these words? Can you not extract the essence of these?! You fucking shallow faggots!

Now that we're in that topic, I'd like to expand on that since everybody does this face when someone curses.

What is a curse? It's mainly made up of two people, on one side, there's the one who says it, and then there's the one who 's the receiver. In a case where there is no receiver it doesn't count as cursing. It's like playing badminton or tennis. There has to be two players. Well, only badminton really.

That said, let's go one step further. What constitutes a curse? It's perception. If one person understands that the other is cursing him/her, then it applies. So basically, if I say fuete tu padre, then it doesn't count because you did not understand that. If I said it in a cheerful manner, you'd think that I'm praising you. This is also applicable when using the same language, if I said fuck, you'd normally be offended. What if you take 'fuck' in it's actual context. Which is:

To engage in coitus with.

 

Therefore, saying 'fuck you', would mean 'To engage in coitus with you' and obviously not applicable in the context of cursing. Honestly, who the hell fucks when he's angry.

That's not the point, the point is just the context of it. I use the word on a daily basis, does that mean I would like to fuck with everything, even air? Of course not, it's just a word. Just a word. It's like food or hello. You perceive it as cursing, I perceive it as an expression, using logic, it's better for you to change your mindset because I'm awesome. Right?

FUETE TU PADRE

See?

Ah fuck this, let's go and get some special K.

The Amazing Adventures of Paragonimus Westermani

Paragonimus Westermani, on it's way to fuck up your life.

 Fuck.

Anyway, haven't been writing lately, it's as if my creative mind is being slowly taken over by fucking medicinal books or some shit. Yes I hate my life. There is no silver lining to where I'm going.

I want to write Chapter Two of whatever the title of it is but I still haven't gotten back chapter one. Hmmm.

Exams means a rise in the level of sugar intake, which I'm not keen on because diabetes runs in the family. Why am I telling you this? Because I don't want to make you laugh. Besides the fact that I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about. Must be those Toxoplasma Gondii fucking around.

There's too much shit going on in the cesspit I have as a brain that I can't even sort out the simplest of things like 'Should I take a taxi' or 'Where's the sugar'. In the end I just walk wherever I need to be and end up tired as hell or I end up bottling up the rage. Well, you know, most of the time. I get angry over trivial things and frankly, the thought of that pisses me off even further. Let's not touch the nobody gets me and my genius mind part. Oh and honestly, fuck Egyptians man. The whole lot of em. This whole country is like the fucking epitome of fucked up. Digression.

I can't wait for the exams to be over with, as in fuck the results, fuck the performance, I just want it to be over with. This year has not been a good one. I'm not even talking about Europe, I just want need some time to fucking hibernate and rebuild my crumbling walls so that stuff that needs to remain in there stays in there.

Christ... There's like a whole fucking cycle going on... Smoke, sugar, smoke, sleep, smoke, study, study, sugar, study, smoke, study, sugar.... You get the idea...

If sugar does that to my face, I swear I'll start fasting

Now I'm homeless. Ah well, lets put that parasitic soul to a test ey?

Now, back to the adventures of Paragonimus Westermani.

Everybody misses Hitler now.

First you blame him for the so called genocide. Now after he's dead, you say he should have finished the job.

Fucken hypocrites ey?

Funny how life works ey?

The publicity that Jews are getting is overwhelming, there has been no other race in the history of the world that has ever crossed this line. You go on TV, there's gonna be some Jew stuff on it. And all they did is invade a country. Everybody is so fucken fueled with hate nowadays that it logic is replaced by radicalism and the bigger picture is shunned aside.

Based on everybody's mentality, the Palestinians are some god fearing holier than thou kind of people. Sure bout that? How is it even fucking logical that just because they live on the holy land, they are granted immediate immunity against evil? They are fucking human, not fucking prophets. I know a guy who knows a lot of Palestinians and heck, he told me most of em are fuck ups. Know what else obeys the rule?

The fucking world.

I'm not saying that the Palestinians deserve what they are getting. Rather, I'm saying that both sides are extremely moronic creatures. What if the Palestinians surrender and Israel get the land? Have ever considered that as an alternative end to the war? Would it be that bad? I look at that option and I see the end of all this mindless killing and ultimately peace.

'What about Al-Aqsa?' you ask? What about it? If I'm not mistaken, you guys are the ones that go on and on about materialism. It's a mosque yes, but it does not change the fact that it is made of bricks. So is my house. And yours. All the talk about desecration and what not is just bullshit, most of you are just making that as an excuse to see right in your bitchery.

It doesn't matter if you're a Jew, a Muslim, a Chinese or whatever, 80% of the whole population are just fuck ups, in an infinite number of ways. There is no way you being a muslim is gonna change that fact. Look at Egypt, the population is almost totally Muslim and look at how many of us that are getting fucking ass raped day in and day out.

Tiring shit, fuck it, you think about it.

You are not the only ones.

Saving a life.

I kept on thinking. What if I had just looked away? What would've happened if I was like any of the three-quarters of society that honestly couldn't be bothered to give a fuck. What would have fucking happened if I just brushed it off as a joke, or a mood swing and continued watching a movie or some shit?

Well, obviously she'd die innit?

The responsibility that comes after that though... That sucks in a way, there's always that awkward shit that goes on when you help somebody you know? That look. It's not bad I guess, I mean all the free meals and drinks, hell that's awesome but really, it all comes down to one thing, basically the both of you are no longer on the same level. And that, that sucks big time.

I might not be a saint and frankly, I couldn't care less if you die. That's one step forward for the global population control. But fuck, I will not have your fucken death on my head, on my twisted conscience. Just imagine this situation. Suicide, girl, phone, last message to : Me. Contents of message: I'm sorry for everything yeah?

Not pictured: Me on the ground, presumably acting dead.

And of course, it goes without saying that the police are always fucking right while we citizens are bound by the nature of human beings in which we sin etc etc thus proving our homo sapien-ness. The conclusion? The police are fucking Terminators.

Oh well, I might be rambling just a tad bit there. Anyways, I remembered this childhood memory of mine when I was still in Penang; i.e. less than 7 years old in which my mom would give me these sweets, what's it called... Fox, yeah something like that.

Yeah. That's the shit.

Back in the days, it tastes literally like heaven and it's like this secret thing my Mom would give me. Well, I thought it was a secret, but then again, I thought everything was a secret back then. Digression.

Anyways, I'd creep walk into her room real quiet and ask her for one in this secretive fucken manner or some shit and she'd act like it was also a big thing. Sometimes it was mints and I fucken hated mints but she'd tell me that you just gotta accept some shit sometimes. Funny, I bought the same candy when I was in High School thinking that it'd taste sublime but fuck, it just tasted like every candy out there. Maybe worse. Actually, yeah, worse. Hmmm... I have no idea though why the thought of that memory really makes my day, probably withdrawal syndrome from not seeing my mother. Ah well, you gotta accept some stuff ey Ma.

As a closing passage, here's the depressing song of the week:

Anathema - One Last Goodbye (Acoustic Version)

Honestly, the song literally fucked up my day.

Sleepless Night's 30 - A lecture on honesty.

Well she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running round
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind.

When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It's alright she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me,
Anything.

Fly on little wing,
Yeah yeah, yeah, little wing

Honestly, how can you not see the beauty in that song?

Anyway, there's been this thing going on, something about me being too 'brutally honest' and whatnot. Which is funny really, because I don't remember, not even once, that ever happening.

Yeah, yeah, you guys go round saying shit like 'Damn, that's mean but it's true. But mean. Yes, mean. Meanmeanmean. Meanie.' And all I can think of is really, how you would give up a lot just to be able to say what I could. Truth is, we all are so deluded by our interest in keeping the so called 'balance' of the world that we end up sucking up to each other. I'm not saying I'm exempted from it, hell I'm as bad as anyone else, particularly if certain, well uh, criteria are met. You know. Fuck it, if a hot chic comes by, for the survival of the species, I will lie. In the mask of honesty. Damn, this manipulation thing is getting to me.

You so don't look fat in that dress, babe. Your friend, on the other hand...

Where was I...

Ah yes. Honesty. It's funny how we're literally bred to fucking tell the truth but the moment some fuck comes around and gets labelled as a friend, we immediately become fucking hypocrites. I mean, really, if you look fat, I'll tell you that you look fat, it's reality and hell, in this world, that's the only thing that matters. You want to blame me, go on, but it doesn't change the fact that people will look at you and say the same thing. And fuck it, since when has being fat make you less worthy? Of course, I forgot, it's your friends that told you that. And when they say that, that's like totally trustworthy right? According to my logic, if you're genetically engineered by the Ooperwalla to be a tad bit heavy, then fuck it. Yeah, most of you are going on saying 'Pfft, you're thin, you don't know what it feels like.' Yes, of course I don't, wanna blame God now?

Everybody wants the truth, but in reality, nobody can handle it. Yes, that includes me, my superiorism only goes so far. Further than you though. Onwards to the main point. Being brutally honest.

You gotta be fucking kidding me if you think I'm even on that level.

Why not?

1. Suicidal tendencies. I refuse to have your death on my head.
2. Enemies. I already have enough, and I don't need your whining to add to it.
3. Obstruction to parasitism. In my big plan of doing nothing except manipulating, it'd be hard to get people to allow me to expand my vision when all they see when I walk by is a block of pain.
4. To separate the important from the non-important ones. See, this one is kinda corny but important as well. I can only be brutally honest to people who I recognize as being one who is important in my life, that way, I can lie all I want but still keep the good juicy pumpkins ones I care for close, even if it might torture them half to death first. Yes, that's proof of my superiority.
5. To not be that much of a douchebag. In my defense, I really enjoy being one, however, due to point 3 I cannot afford the luxury. Priorities first, as they say.

It all really comes to a thin line between being honest and just being mean. Yes, there is in fact a clear separation between those two. By being brutally honest, it's like doing fucken ballet on a cliff, on wrong step, one wrong statement, just a little tiny phrase, and you fall into the abyss of mean-ness.

That. Only there's abyss. Abyss. ABYSSS!!!

Words are swords laced with cyanide, once it cuts, there can be no healing. That's why it's different when it comes to people who are extremely close to me, they know how my mechanism works hence, they understand. It's a well known fact how I cannot (or refuse) to suppress my tongue, come to think of it, why should I. You call it cursing, I call it expressing, that's why I don't mind anybody cursing, it's a way of expressing. Simple.

Though I must say, I'm rambling now. Damn.

One last thing. It appears that for some reason, you little superficial bitch took a hit at a family member of mine. And you used my name. For some reason, I feel that we are gonna have a real long chat and things are going to get intolerably messy. Since everybody thinks I'm brutally honest, I'll give you a chance to see how fucked up it can really be. Heh, I can't fucking wait.

Ma Jaan.

You know, people wrote stuff, speeches, poems even to describe their mother's and shit and I thought of doing that but I somehow it seemed kind of... fake. I guess it's not for me, writing all mushy stuff and shit and expecting people to go 'Aww, that's cho chweet you lil muncy wunchkin!!11'. Nope, thank God it isn't.

Anyways, momzies. It's funny really how a word can literally build and destroy empires, the meaning in 'Ma' has such an impact, like a blow right to your solar plexus. Which is probably what love is.

See, I will never be afraid to say that I'm a mommy's boy because fuck it, I am and I'm damn proud of it. I don't mind going out with my mom to wherever the hell that she decides to take me, I couldn't care less about the stares or silent giggles from the eyes of the oh-so glamorous teenagers coz fuck, that's the only way I can show my appreciation to her, for all that she's done, for everything that she went through. Raising four of us is probably dipping her head into each and every circle of hell there is but she never quit. She never went 'Ah, fuck this shit I'm going to Havana'. Because I would. I don't have that strength that she has (Quite literally in fact, she's like Hulk. Only nongreen and non-beefy, Hmmm...). So yes, I'm a mommy's boy and heck, nothing makes me happier. Yes, grovel all you rebellious teenagers!!! GROVEL!!!

I sent her a message to day and she called us kids 'exasperating'. I know you're crying Ma, hah, that's what you get when you have a writer as a kid. Uh. If any family members happen to read that last sentence, please erase it from your memory and not tell Ma. Please? PLEASE?

Google search result for 'exasperating'. What?

I can, as a matter of douchebaggery fact, write pages about my mother and how she's more awesome than yours. But, since it's 2 in the morning and I havent slept for to days, I'll let this slip. Wouldn't want you to be shot down while you're writing that poem now.

For the heck of it.

Thank you for bearing with me for 18 years and 9 horrifying months when everybody else turned their backs on me. Thank you for the never doubting me and pacing all that trust and faith in me when everybody else saw it as a lost cause. Thank you for all the beatings because I know that deep inside it hurts you to even lay a hand on me. Thank you for your wisdom and your laughter because nothing helps me more in my time of need. Thank you for being my mother, I cannot imagine another soul more capable of taking care of us the way you did. My words still fail to capture even the tiniest fragment of you Ma, but for what it's worth, I will always be your son, to forever love you and forever protect you.

HAHA!!!!!!!!

Life, summed up into two people.

The disadvantages of having a splinter lodged in a toe: A study executed at 2:36 a.m.

To whoever it may concern.

As explained by the title, I shall proceed to explain the disadvantage of having a splinter i.e. a small, sharp piece of wood pierce and nestle itself in a toe. This will be done through a step by step analysis and finally, a conclusion.

1. Discovering said splinter.

Discovering a splinter can occur in various ways. Mostly unpleasant, it is usually surprising in nature and somewhat fucking irritating. The moment a splinter decides that a persona will be it's next home, it embeds itself rather fast into the extremities, usually the fingers, palm, toe and soles of the feet though the last one might be rare due to the thick layer of keratin. Regardless, once this process happens, it is accompanied by a sharp, shooting pain which immediately causes a startled high pitched gay-like scream roar of various profanities. An example;

Subject A: So I was like fuck that man, there are limits you know.
Subject B (Friend participating in an active conversation): And then?
Subject A: I wanted to think of some kind of rebuttal that's not gonna- FUCKCIBAIBABIANJINGSIALKIMAK. Ah. Adeh. Fuck. Shit. What the hell?.

As demonstrated above, the profanities which are cried out in a painful manner are usually assorted in terms of languages, followed by minor, low volume inquiries; usually monologues, of what happened.

Pictured: Pain. Not Pictured: Splinter entering toe.

Now, with the splinter embedded neatly in skin and flesh, there are two possible scenarios on what happens next. It depends on the position of the splinter. If it is directly the toe (The why the fuck is my toe hurting when I walk position), discovery will be immediate and extraction (refer to number 2) will be swift. However, there comes a point in which the splinter is placed on the side of a toe (The Devil's Dick position) which is rare but the complications are high. This will be discussed later. In the Devil's Dick scenario, the splinter might be discovered much later when it causes much fuckery irritation.

2. Extraction.

As discussed before, the Why-The-Fuck-Is-My-Toe-Hurting-When-I-Walk position is much easier in which the splinter is fairly new and if lucky, has not fully embedded in the skin and flesh. Henceforth, extraction will be easy by using tweezers (recommended) or nail clippers (fairly risky). This will usually lead to zero complications and a well lived life forever after.

However, in the Devil's Dick scenario, it could take a turn and spiral out of control. Due to the nature of the splinter embedded, it is not easy to locate and all the more difficult to extract. This is largely due to the fact that earlier on, the splinter is only firmly attached in the keratin layer but as time goes by, the friction between toes and obstruction leads to tunneling or piercing of the splinter into the raw unprotected flesh below. When this scenario occurs, pain ensues and while 85% of the population would sit down and proceed to executing a full body search, the remaining 15% always have a positive outlook on life and disregard the pain as just a minor fluke. Strangely, studies have proven that this 15% are usually not fucking retarded. In fact, they're actually pessimist but it could probably mean that the two negatives makes a positive theory is true. Digression.

The extraction process in this scenario is mainly difficult and often complicated because the splinter has embedded deep in the skin and often into the flesh area. Tweezers are usually contraindicated in these situations mainly due to the fact that it tickles. A lot. Therefore, the nail clipper is preferred, even when it could cause some damage. The first thing that must be done is to clear or cut off the skin covering the splinter itself. This in its very entirety poses a threat due to the chance that the splinter being pushed even deeper and causing more pain and possibly bleeding and let's face it, trying to operate on your own feet is very fucking taxing on the back and also on the mind. Regardless, once the skin is removed, the splinter must now be very carefully pinched by the surprisingly not-so-easy-to-pinch nail clipper and removed slowly and all this must be done while the subject is squirming and cursing. Possibly kicking you in the face and spitting but that's the occupational hazard. 75% of the time, the not-so-easy-to-pinch nail clipper morphs into the very-easy-to-cut nail clipper and then... Then there's suffering.

The most common reaction. Minus the dark lord look.

It is inevitable, therefore there has been a solution. While preferably sedated, the subject must now watch and bear the pain as the pinching method is deployed. The area around the splinter must be pinched as hard as possible so that a minor but of it is exposed and the nail clipper must be used again. This has lead to countless arguments over the use of euthanasia because the subject usually cries out in agony and begs for mercy. This is the last chance of extraction and if there is failure, any more ideas of extraction must be shunned from the possibly twisted mind for the good of the subject.

3. Complications.

Common in the Devil's Dick scenario, it could range to minor discomfort to a full blown what the fuck situations. Pain will not be discussed due to it's life preserving mechanism (Message from the author: Remember kids, pain is t3h gewwwddd...) The most common complication is having to walk around with a constant irritation in the foot. This has been known to cause CURIPUBS or CUrsing In Public Syndrome or to the bat shit insane where subjects manually amputate the affected toe using household appliances. However, for those who persevere, the pain usually goes away mainly thanks to the Oompa Loompas in the body going round sprinkling pixie dust. Or something. Whatever.

Death has been reported mainly due to the fact that the splinter enters the blood stream through random wormholes and they sprout into trees in the body. Mental instabilities and substance abuse is also common due to the depression which sets in after the subject realizes that he or she can't even extract a fucking splinter.

Not pictured: The Devil's Dick. Also, wounds from substance abuse. Damn make up.

Others include mainly moronic trials of extraction with fire (NOT fireproof), acid (NOT invincible), sucking said splinter (strained back), and so on.

4. Conclusion.

The increase in splinter cases and their outcomes have been on the rise and due to the fact that it's a splinter, subjects usually laugh at the notion of going to the doctor. It is, of course, quite outrageous for one to be charged a fucked up amount of moo-lah just for a piece of wood. Researches are now furiously trying to come up with a device which would allow swift and painless methods of extracting splinters. Some include the SplinSor which senses the presence of potentially harmful splinters and explodes when it detects one. It's supposed to be attached on the subject's foot, somehow, having your foot explode into tiny chewable pieces is one of the solutions to the unsolvable problem. 'If you don't have a foot, you can't get a splinter' is their motto. Many great figures have recently joined this group of researches, including Dr. Frankenstein, Jack the Ripper, Botakchin, Vlad the Impaler and so on.

Dr. Frankenstein was too busy in his lab to participate.

And dude.

Splinters suck.

Thank you.

Sleepless Nights 29 - One day...

They're gonna make dragons into fuzzy little motherfuckers with anime style eyes.

Wait.


They did.


Back when I was a kid, dragons were the epitome of fucking badass. Give me anything and it'd be stumped by just the mere thought of fucking dragons. Fireballs, massive wingspan, horns it's everything badass and evil merged into one fucking awesome prehistoric creature. Fuck the Ninja Turtles or fucking Dragon Ball man, the only thing I wanted to be as a fucking dragon.

I don't think I made that clear.


DRAGONSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



However, as time passed, changes occurred. It's funny though, those days I thought that, meh, maybe a bit of technological advancements, they made dragons a reality better hygiene, I mean, all that shit you know. What I have never thought I would see, was this blasphemy.

Imagine; for those who are born stupid and imagination-less, fuck off, this ain't where you are supposed to tread. Anyways, imagine, a huge creature, sailing over your head as you cower in terror (of course, religious people won't do that right, you've got God on your side ) blotting out the sunlight, flame all around and then the last sight before you die are teeth, and your intestines spilling out... You've fallen at the hands of a dragon and all you can think of honestly was how large their dongs are how majestic these beasts are.... For a more clear picture, try to remember how it felt when you lost your virginity imagine what it felt like when you first watched cloverfield or when you first had a cigarette or how it just felt so fucking awesome when you dreamt that one day you could have a chance to be me... Or I could just put a picture. Yeah. Picture.

 Yes, click for awesomeness. Okay, Im not satisfied but fuck it, go google dragons or some shit fucktard.

Anyways, back to the point.

So imagine growing up with this imagery, imagine this being everything you've ever wanted or dreamt to be. This is your childhood, this is-

....

The crime of doing just that is punishable by, nay, not death, but life in a prison where each day a transvestite, no, an UNSHAVEN transvestite cuts you a million times with a scalpel and throws you into fucking lemon juice.

Each year this shit happens, the perfect childhood memory gunned down by fucking faggots that just wants to shove it in our faces. Like saying 'I'm gonna twist the world so bad that you'd die just from overexposure of fuzziness'. Well aren't you just the sneaky little fucken bastard child.

Let's focus on the picture shall we. What does a dragon need. Horns. FIRE! Wings; tattered if possible. Rough exterior. If possible just the skeleton.

Let's see what this dragon mudkipp have. NO horns. NO tattered wings. NO rough badass exterior. (I have to admit, the fire thing was pretty awesome. Digression). But seriously, it does look like a fucking mud-skipper.

Yes. Very apparent, no?

A major part of my life, incinerated, just by watching a movie about an asshole, his pet dragon mudkipp and his fucking girlfriend which I strongly suspect to be a transvestite. I mean, look at those jaws. Christ, you can measure right angles using those mandibles.

You tell me thats not awesome, I swear to god I'll pop a cap into your groin. You don't need them. Trust me.

And...

Just because I can.

Next they are gonna make a movie about voices in your heads and how they're in fact not real.

Wait...