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.