Bring on the unknown, bitch.

Not including today, I have exactly 4 days left in Malaysia.

 

People ask me how am I feeling now? Nothing much really. Any anxiety, any excitement, any emotional bullshit that I should or should not be feeling at this point in time are all overshadowed by this room fuckery. Not to say that I do not have a room, I actually have like 5 now. Found them through real estates websites. I just do not want to send in money online and commit myself. I mean, everything sounds fantastic online, people are trying to sell you shit so everything is sugar-coated, and then when you arrive at this supposedly magnificent room….the ceiling’s leaking, the bus stop is too far away and you are living an hour away from college. Or maybe even worst, it’s just a scam to get your money. Renting out a room that don’t exists to international students. Shit like this happens.

 

 

So I will be staying in a hotel a couple of days when I get there while I meet up with realtors to see where is best. If you’re thinking “Hey CD, how come you’re not crashing at your friend’s place?” That’s a simple question, its cause I have no friends there. I purposely chose a university that I do not know anyone of. I always wonder why people go overseas and study at these places where they already know people there. What’s the point? What’s the point of going far away only to be with your own kind, to be with the same people, to always, perpetually stay in your comfort zone? None really. There’s no growth.

Same shit, different time zone.

 

The reason why I can’t ask people to find a room for me is cause I don’t have anyone I know there. Even if I do, I won’t ask for help. You can only go so far in life if you always depending on the sympathy of people. Here I am with family and friends. I live comfortably, I have a car, and I always have money. There I will not know anyone, I probably will not be able to live comfortably, I will definitely not have a car and without doubt I am going to be broke. Oh I haven’t mentioned this. My dad is cutting me off after the third month.

 

Financially.

It’s his rule. He pays for the tuition bill and the rent, but he’s not gonna give any allowance after the third month. By the fourth month I’m there, I should be able to hold a job already or starve. It’s my Dad’s way of teaching his kids of the “real world”. My sister waited tables through Law School. Technically my dad paid for Law school and she only have to support herself but woman totally played the whole “Paying for law school through waitressing” thingy. My brother worked two jobs when he was in America. And now it’s my turn. My friends asked if there is a way of getting out of it, like if there’s a way I could have him still gives me money after the third month but to tell you the truth….I rather not.

 

First off, it’s unfair to my sis and bro. They both got cut off after the third month, why should I be any different? I mean my sister could work through Law school; my brother worked two jobs while studying for a double degree and still managed to graduated top of his class. I mean, fuck man. I’m not in Law school, I’m not doing double degree….if anything my circumstance is easier then them. Plus it’s an ego thing you know. I don’t want to be known as the weak one just cause I’m the youngest. Plus I don’t want to be 81 years old and have my parents tell my grandchildren on how Grandma CD was too useless to hold a job and begged Great Grandpa to give her money when she was in Australia.

Seriously bitches, till my dying days I will not hear the end of it.

My dad and his tough love methodology….But that’s the point of studying abroad. It’s like a rite’s of passage, the moment in life where you stepped out of your comfort zone and see what you made of. Here, I’m the pampered Drama Queen. There? Who knows? But that’s the thing about life. It’s all about freefalling into the unknown. And your dad cutting you off and you have to starve for days on end. And yeah…fun.

 

So how am I feeling now?

 

Contemplative. I’m contemplating life…..and where I stand in it.

Of things that are pissing me off during the finals: Part 3

Listen you worthless piece of shit, I do not know which country you are from but I’m from Malaysia. And in this country, most of us drive like fiends from Hell. So riddle me this asswipe, why the hell are you driving like a pussy when you’re in the fast lane? Seriously.


I understand that there is a speed limit. Yes I know, 110km/j on the fucking highway. But here’s the deal, everyone who drives on the fastlane, none of us abide by that. None of us. Personally the slowest I ever been- when the fucking road is relatively empty- is 160km/j. So again, why in the fucking blue hell is your slow ass on the fastlane? My car is red in colour bitch. When my Dad bought it for me, it says there “Extreme red”. Don’t tell me your eyes can’t see my “extreme red” car from miles away going 180? Can’t you move your ass fast enough for me to get through? If you really feel like you need to drive like a fucking pussy, then please direct your slow ass to the slow lane. Not the fast lane.



I have an exam to get too. Now the fact that my paper starts at 4pm and I left my house at 3.30pm when I live about 40km away from college is a non-issue. What is an issue here is that your drive like a pussy. People have places to get too, things to meet, people to do…or did I get that wrong…but the fact that mattered is, your pussy driving is in the way. If you can’t locate the fucking acceleration pedal in your motherfucking car why in the fucking blue hell are you on the fast lane?



Now, see I don’t like tailgating people. I heard in the radio they say that that shit is actually road bullying. And bullying is not cool under any circumstance. But when you are going what, 90km/j on the motherfucking fast lane and not moving your ass fast enough for me get through, it pisses me off. And on the road, I get piss off really fast. I’m sorry if I scared you when I tailgated your ass for maybe 12kms even when you’ve already switched lane. You fucking deserve it. If your ass have no bizniz on the fastlane, then don’t get on it on the first place.



Thanks to your pussy driving, I was 5 mins late for my paper. If I ever see you on the road again- I will end you bitch.


***

Whenever a guy hits on me, I make sure that I am always pleasant and never rude. I understand that it takes a lot of guts for a guy to come up and talk to a chick. Especially ones that have a default-bitch-face like mine. I can never go up to a guy and ask him out because I do not have the balls for it. Literally and figuratively speaking. So when a guy hits on me, I try to make it pleasant for the both of us but will still definitely drive the point home that: “Yes, I am single” but “No, I am not available.”

It gets to me when these dudes just do not fucking get it. Hey asshole, just because I was pleasant to you doesn’t mean I want to suck your dick tonight mmmkay? It just means that I am considerate. Just because I do not tell you to fuck off and die doesn’t mean you should pressure me for my fucking phone number. I do not want to give it to you. You are an asshole. Harassing me will not make me fall madly and deeply in love with you.




Thank you so much for the douchebaggery you inflicted on me. I now have lost all faith in men and will now join the Carpet Munchers team.

***

I have disabled my “Add as Friend” button on Facebook. I cannot fucking take it anymore. I cannot take it when college freshmen and juniors hit me up over FB just randomly wants to add me as friend. Listen, some people who live in the virtual world, yeah those people who wants “popularity”, yeah those bitches are the ones with 100, 000++ friends. I am not those people. I only add people whom I know and like. The people I add are actually, shockingly, my friends. People I actually have some contact with, have a decent conversation with.


Me telling you to shut the fuck up in class because I was trying to sleep does not make a proper conversation. Me telling you to get out of my way, do not make us friends. We sharing one class, when I don’t even notice that we were in fact- sharing a class - does not make us friends. Stop trying to add me. I will not be part of your quest to achieve online immortality.



I now have disabled my “Add as Friend” button. I also deleted 77 people off my FB, ones that I have been arsed into adding. If you’re not my friend, or frenemy, I have no interest whatsoever in getting up to date with your life.

Now, step away from the computer and go live your life in the real world.

***

Also, can someone explains what fuckkery is this?




It keeps on popping out now and then. Pissing me off. Why is it doing that though?




Footnotes:

For part 1 of things that are pissing me off during the finals: click this.

For part 2: click this.

This is not over you filthy Pizza Hut bastards!!!

Dude, I totally threw a bitch fit at Pizza Hut just now. Well not really a bitch fit....more like a righteous tirade. A really pissed off and loud righteous tirade. Which by the way……. totally scared the crap out of Farid.








Okay let me run this scene by you and see if you don't get pissed off too. You are with your good friend having a late lunch at Pizza Hut, which by the way you have indignantly championed from all your friends saying that Pizza Hut's pizza totally taste much better then Domino's. Okay so you are sitting there, munching on your second piece of personal pan pizza, discussing current events, resident college bitches and the perpetual never ending topic: the size of your ass when all of a sudden - a fucking cockroach appeared from the underside of the table, crawled all over the table near your plate that contained your damn food and then disappeared to the underside of the table again. Here's a multi choice answer:





a) Scream, push your chair back and then fall on your ass.


b) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief but do nothing.


c) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief, make your guy friend capture it by using a tissue, and then make a waiter call the manager so that you can give the manager a piece of your mind.








I picked option C.








Unlike most of the female population, the Constantly Dramatic One is not afraid of cockroaches. I am however, is shit scared of cicak. Cicaks are fucking creepy okay. But I do know that cockroaches are filthy and they bring on diseases. And I just ate from a table that as it turns out, the oh-so-accommodating pit stop of a cockroach. Holy Mother of all that is Pure and True, if I could have open a can of whoop ass on someone right there and then, I totally would. The manager came to me with an attitude. She was all gangsta when she looked at me and asked "Yes?".......Bitch, you do not throw fuel to the fire. Bad move bitch, bad move.








"I just found a cockroach on the table here. Where I am eating. A cockroach! What kind of establishment are you running here when people come here to eat and you serve cockroaches along with the food?"





"Ohhh we just had pest control last Friday.............."








"It doesn’t matter whether or not you had pest control last Friday or yesterday or the month before this. That is a non-issue. What is an issue here is that while I am eating here I found a cockroach crawling around next to my plate. *Lipas tau tak? Lipas. Atas meja.* Do you expect me to sit here and eat your food still?"

*A cockroach you know? A cockroach. On the table.








"Oh we always have a cockroach problem. *But sekarang dah less dah.....*"
*But now it have lessen....*







"Oh is that supposed to make me feel better? Is the fact that last time you had more cockroaches attacking your customers and now you only have one is a victory? Am I supposed to rejoice at that? Seriously, what kind of show are you running here? *Ini kat depan dah ada lipas. Kalau I pergi to your kitchen, what will I find there? Perkampungan lipas dan tikus?* Is that the cleanliness level of your establishment? Eh when I come here I expect a certain level of professionalism and cleanliness. **Kalau I nak makan kat tempat kotor-kotor I pergi makan kat mamak tepi jalan tu. Kereta lalu-lalu, berhabuk sana sini tapi tak per.** Cause that's how much I pay for it. Here I come and I pay your service tax and all that and this is the bullshit I have to deal with?"

*If you have cockroaches at the front of your restaurant, then what do you have in your kitchen? A mini city for cockroaches and rats?*

**If I want to eat at a dirty place, I go to a mamak by the roadside. The food will be all dusty but it's okay because that is what expected of mamak and that is how much I pay for it.**

By this time she looked like she was on the verge of crying. I feel kinda bad but no matter how bad I felt it doesn’t change the fact there was a disease carrying cockroach near my food. Shit son, what if I have rabies now?








"What happens now if I get sick from eating your food? If my friend gets sick? Who is going to foot the bill for our medical fees? You? Your pest control people?"








She just kept quite. On hindsight, what else can she do? I wasn’t screaming but I spoke loudly. I made sure that the whole restaurant can hear the fact that there was a cockroach on my table. Near my fucking food. I am still so pissed off.








"So what are you going to do now?"








"Well what do you want?"








"I do not want to pay for any of these, I will not pay for my food and neither will my friend. When we came in we expected to eat pizza, not some cockroach infested tasty treat. Also do you have a business card? I want your business card if not you write out your name and give it to me. If you think you can serve people food in this kind of place where cockroaches live happily ever after then you are wrong. I am going to report about this. This is not over."








"Miss, building ni memang ada banyak lipas."
*Miss, this building is infested with cockroaches.*







"That's not an issue. *I pergi makan kat Subway like 3 doors away and takder pun lipas. I pergi minum kat Starbucks, takde pun lipas. I pergi makan kat Ali Maju, mamak tau mamak, takder pun I kena attack dengan lipas. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. Ni tempat makan, bukan printers suratkhabar.*"
*I didn't find any cockroaches when I go to eat at Subway which is 3 doors down from here. I don't see any cockroaches when I have a drink in Starbucks. When I go to Ali Maju, which is a mamak establishment, I don't get attacked by cockroaches. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. This is a restaurant, not a printers.*







I wanted to go on and on but Farid was staring at me from across the table looking on the verge of crapping his pants. (No dude, you did.) So I just stood up and left. I think if stayed longer I would have cut a bitch. Seriously. Fucker!!! What if I have rabies now? Do cockroaches carry rabies? Fuck. What do they carry? I should Google this up. What if Farid and I are infected with it? Whatever it is that they are carrying? What if the disease is spread by saliva? Like rabies? What if everyone we kiss and share a drink with is infected? And those people will infect other people and other people and other people...... In like a week or less there could be an outbreak of cockroach-something disease all over KL!! In a month- the world!








It'll be like the fucking Mad Cow disease all over again. But it'll be worst cause when this story hit the news, the news anchors are going to go "The original deadly disease carriers have been traced and that trail goes back to Malaysia. We have been notified that the original carriers were Farid.A and the Constantly Dramatic One, who ate at a cockroach infested Pizza Hut establishment. Sad to say however that these two individuals who were the original carriers of this deadly disease are already deceased."








WTF?!! I don’t want to be remembered as a plague-carrying-originator. This is not fair!! When I die, people should remember me as the object of Clive Owen's desire. They should remember me for my ass the size of galaxy. They should remember me for my superior bitching skillz. But most of all they should remember me for the ossumness that I am. Not as the cause of a plague bitches!








This is bullshit.








I will lodge a complaint at the Consumer Rights and Health Ministry or whatever. I need to find where exactly I can complain at. And when I do, I will cc. that to The Star, Utusan Melayu and all other newspapers. Take that you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! Take that. If I am going down as the original carrier of a plague-later-to-be-named then I am taking you down with me you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! I am not going down without a fight.








......Damn, I totally need to go to the family GP tomorrow. I need to check if I have rabies. Or whatever it is that will make me go down in medical books as the cause of a plague that wipe out a shitload of people.


Damn Pizza Hut bastards.

The Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List: Part 2

Today on the second installment of "The Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List", I would like to bitch about......pronunciations. Yes, that's right. Pronunciations. But before that a little introduction first.

This is the section on Dramatic Musings in which I just wanna bitch in, okay? Just let me be. Most people think I have unresolved anger issues. Most people think that my unresolved issues exhibits itself especially when I'm behind the steering wheel. Most people think I should deal with whatever it is that's making me angry. To most people, this is what I say:

Now I'm no grammar Nazi like some people, nor am I a language elitist but there are some shit that need to be pronounced properly. Such as names. My name is the Constantly Dramatic One. I expect you to pronounce it as the Con-stant-ly Dra-ma-tic One. Okay? Such as you expect other people to pronounce your name pro-per-ly.

I notice lately and by lately I mean on TV that some TV personalities like to pronounce Malaysia as "Maleeeeziaaaaahh". Bitch, wtf? Listen, I understand that you think that you are cool, that you are in fact on TV after all and I'm not. Okay, fine, whatever. But really the fact that you are so inherently Malay and so inherently Malaysian and I know bitch, I know you grew up in Sungai Petani, Kedah* gives you no fucking excuse whatsoever to mispronounce the name of our motherland.

It's Ma-lay-sia you little skank whore. Not Ma-leeeee-zi-aaaaahhh. What the fuck is Maleeeeezzziaaaahhh anyways? Sounds like a fucking venereal disease. Do you have it bitch? That's why you find the need to educate the public about it? I'm sorry that you have "Maleeeezzzziaaaahhh" on your vagina now, but that's not my fault nor it is the country's. It is yours.

By affecting yourself with what clearly is a damn stupid accent does not up your cool factor. It makes you look like an affected, wannabe, venereal-disease-having-skank-whore. Just let it be. If you weren't born in the UK, why the hell do you find the need to speak like you are? You are not Bristish, you are from Sungai Petani. Embrace your roots. Be proud of it. Don't try to cover it with your idiotic, affected accent.

So the next time you feel the need to speak out loud the name of our motherland, please acknowledge its pronunciation and adhere by it. If your name is Dipship, you wouldn't want people to call you Asswipe now do you?

It's only common courtesy.

*******************************
Footnotes.

1) The use of "Sungai Petani, Kedah" is just to drive home a point. She is not from Sungai Petani. I do not know where she if from but I'm sure it is not from the UK. However, I am just trying to make a point here.

2) For part one of "the Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List" go here.

3) To give me a piece of your mind, please key in GO-FUCK-YOURSELF on your mobile phone.

That would be all. Thank you for your attention.

I'm racist. You're racist.......So what happens now?

Disclaimer: The following post deals with issues concerning racism. It could be hurtful to you. It could also piss you off to the point of wanting to track me down and kicking my ass. So if you don't feel like reading an extremely long post in which I ponders the issue of racism in all my pseudo-intellectual glory, then don't. Unlike the real world; freedom of choice still rules supreme in the blogsphere.

***************************************

Let's be honest here, there is a bit of racism in all of us.

If you can honestly say that you are not racist, at all, then you my friend are a liar. We are all racist. It comes with the upbringing. When we were growing up our parents, our relatives, the people of our own race who associates with us......well they inject a certain something into our subconscious. It is called ""racial superiority". The case in which we view our race, our people as better than anyone else’s. This shit is like Sociology 101 yo.


Now how we are going to deal with that racism is up to us. We can choose to remain being racist or we can choose not to. Me? I have selective racism. It is shameful. It is wrong. I should get my ass whooped for it….but then you know, no matter how ossum you guys think of me, I am still but human. A constantly dramatic human, but still human.



You wanna know who I am racist towards? Chinese teenagers. Yes, do I hear uproar out there? Yes of course I do. But please before flooding my comment box with hate comments, let me just get some points across. I am not racist against all Chinese teenagers; I am only racist against those supa kawaii ones. The ones who find the need to emulate Japanese street fashion, to be anime themselves, the ones that wear top to bottom pink, the ones that talk like fucking bimbos……and those are just the girls. The boys, God the boys are another story all together.


But I do notice that this damn fucking annoying anime/Japanese/Harajuku behaviour are most of the time attributed in Chinese teenagers exclusively and because of that I am racist towards them. Please note that I am not racist towards the Chinese, just the supa kawii ones. I have Chinese friends, I watch Chinese movies, I think Lee Hom is a hot piece of ass and remember geek boi of which I had a………..sex dream of? Dude’s Chinese. How’s that for not being racist against the Chinese?


The second group of people that I am racist towards are white people. Yeah I know. Contradictory ain’t it? Am I not the one who goes on and on about how I wanna bang Clive Owen’s within an inch of his life? And clearly, he’s white. Do I not idolize Kelly Clarkson, and look at her- she’s white! Am I not blogging in English, which we Malaysians recognize as the language of white people? I mean go anywhere in Malaysia and speak a bit of good English and you’ll probably get comments that go along this line: “Berlagak lah tu, sebab pandai cakap bahsa omputih.”

Let me explain. I am not racist towards all white people. I am only racist towards white people living in Malaysia. Now I dunno whether you guys notice but white people living in Malaysia, most of them, they think they are so much more superior than we the locals. Cause they’re white. Just because we are all brown and suddenly they’re white in the sea of brownies, they think they are so much superior to us? It does not help that most Malaysians cannot escape the colonized mentality and view them as better than us. And because of this, white people in Malaysia think they can take advantage of us. They can skip queues, get discounts and bla fucking bla just cause they’re white. They think they can get away with anything, just cause they’re white.

Shit pisses me off.

And no, my selective racism is not limited to other races only. I am racist against my own people too. Malay people. Yeah I know, I am here to declare that yes that the Constantly Dramatic One is Malay and I take an active role to not be associated with people that I deem to be “too Malay”. The ones that I like to label as “kampong”. I mean the ones that only want to watch Malay movies, religiously watch "Akademi Fantasia", go for those damn "Sure Heboh!" bullshit. Yeah….those. I am racist towards them.


I view myself as more modern, liberal, hipper Malay whereelse they are the outdated, boringly traditional and kampong Malays. They in turn, do not view me as a modern, liberal or hip with a positive spin to it….They look at me and think that I’m a skank for not dressing in the typical Malay fashion, and that I am going to burn in Hell for being me. They also accuses me of bringing shame to the Malay community for being “liberal”. They are as racist towards me as I am to them. The cyle of hate that comes with racism is a vicious one.

So you see, I am racist. I will not deny it. But I am selectively racist. I do not blindly hate a group of people just because what I heard or because I have been thought that my race is “supposedly” superior when compared to everyone else’s. I hate them for reasons that make sense to me. So does it make it okay for me to hate?

Of course not. It’s hurtful.



I’m sure what I wrote about being racist towards Chinese teenagers have angered…well Chinese people out there. I’m sure what I said about white folks would lose me my international readers and I’m sure somewhere out there some Malay girl is reading my blog and going “Oh dia ingat dia bagus sangat lah sekarang? Betina sial.”…or you know something along those lines. Because let’s face it. Racism hurts.

So why am I bringing all this up? Why am I airing my racism out to the world? Because, I just recently encountered such blatant racism myself. I encountered it from someone who I think of as a friend. I thought he was cool....then I stumbled upon his blog and I found these gems:


“……………Waiting for the other guy, he stood there, the book in hand, and the place it below his lip and on his chin, the way you would place your fingers below your lip when you're thinking. OMG, the bloody Malay idiot. I just wanted to slam his face along with the book into the counter repeatedly. If he wants to get that personal with my book, let him have the whole shebang, I'd have shoved it up his ass if it didn't interfere with morals... and laws against assault.

Unfortunately for me, the book was the only one they had. Argh, kill kill kill. And if anyone wonders why I believe majority of Malays are uncivilised imbeciles that I wouldn't trust to even be my slave, let them go spend a night with Mr. Bookaphile over there.

Genocide, here we go!”

And this:

“…………show me a malay who seemingly doesn't exhibit traits of imbecility and/or incivility, and I'd prove you wrong.”


I mean, wow. Can you guys just feel the racism in that? At first I was shocked; I always thought he’s a cool guy you know. He doesn't show his racism in real life but every other post is about how he thinks Malay people should be rendered obsolete. Once the shock is over, I became extremely angry. And I just wanna track him down in college and kick him in the balls. I did. Then I thought of attacking him in my blog and then it occurred to me that……….wouldn't that be totally hypocritical of me?


I sure am not as racist as him. I do not want to commit any genocide and no I will not hold it against his people for the things he said………. but to judge him on his opinions of my people, his racism, when I’m in turn is racist too? That’s just wrong and shallow of me. But just because I can think sensibly about this does not mean that his words do not hurt. And that’s what racism is all about. They hurt, they anger and all that’s left is hate.

I have stopped being angry with him. I have also decided to stop being his friend. I don’t think that I could associate myself with someone who clearly looks down on me just because of my race. But of all things that I take out of this, most of all…is pity. I feel sad for him. If you read his blog and if you know him in real life as I do, he is a very clever guy. Quite witty too. But that’s just so much hate there..... I do not know where this hate for Malay people comes from. I do not know whether it is justified. I do not know. What I do know is that, it’s such a damn shame to have so much racism and hate in someone as young as he is.


We are all racist in our own way. It's just a question on how far we let the racist in us go. Do we let them dictate the way we think or view a person of a certain race without any justification? Or do we hold on to our racism but accept a person, albeit begrudgingly, if they turns out to not be what we have envisioned? Are we happy to lead our lives with all these hate and in turn pass it down to the next generation? Could we ever live in a world in which there is no such thing as racism, be it individually or institutionalized? Will the cycle of hate, unjustified suspicions and blind arrogance ever end?

I understand the idea of choosing a part of yourself to be the centre of your being. Gay people wear their homosexuality with pride. It is what defined them as individuals. I choose my dramatic antics to be the centre of my being. The thing that defines me as an individual. But sadly for him, instead or choosing his cleverness or his wittiness or a thousand other good qualities that he has as a human being.....he instead chose his racism to be the centre of his being. The thing in which he defined himself with as an individual.

He wears his racism with pride.

And that is the most saddest, heartbreaking thing I have ever encountered in my entire life.

An open letter to my fellow Malaysians....

Dear Malaysian,







Listen, I need to talk to you guys. First of all, hello. How are you? Have you had your dinner yet? How's the family? Good? Oh good then. I'm glad that every thing's going great for you guys. Me? Oh I'm swell. Well as swell as I can get anyways.....given the fact that I'm buried under shitload of assignments these days. But such is a student's life.







Right, where was I? Oh have I ever mentioned that I like being Malaysian? I dunno bout you guys, but by God I do indeed love it. I love being in such a multicultural environment in which we either love each other or we tolerate each other's differences, and then we bitch about it behind each other's back. I love our "Malaysian time". Yes, it gives way to being tardy. Not that it's a good thing mind you, but sometimes you just gotta be tardy. And oh the happiness and joy that we derive from our foods collectively. Our nasi lemak, our rendang, our ketupat. Oh the joy we get from stuffing those into our mouths.....indescribable. Outsiders will never understand our fascination with our nasi lemak and rendang but it doesn't matter. We Malaysians have found a spot of heaven, and it's on that plate of nasi lemak. I find it fascinating how we all can sit at the mamak hours on end ordering teh tariks, one after the other and talking shit bout the government but yet doing nothing bout it. Other than giving our esteemed favourite mamak more money for our never ending craving for teh tariks. Yes, yes, I do indeed love being Malaysian. And I love you too, fellow Malaysians.







But amidst all this love and camaraderie I just need to iron out a problem I'm having with you guys. I mean, it's kinda a biggie. I do hope it's not offensive but I just need to ask this: Why the fuck are you guys so fucking nosy? Honest to God? Whhhhyyy?!!!











I'm talking about this insatiable need to be nosy assholes on the road. Why is it that every time there is a fucking accident on the motherfucking road, you people found the need to slow the fuck down so that you can all nosily, drive your car sllooooooooooowwwwwlllly by the accident scene so that you'll can see what's goin on? Why is there a need to be this fucking nosy? I mean, you fuckers, I was stuck for 2 fucking hours today on the fucking highway just because some truck overturned.





A truck overturned. It just fucking overturned.





Nothing else happened. The driver did not die, nobody was injured and oh nothing blew up. It just fucking overturned. If Miss Universe was parading naked in the middle of the street and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. If there was somehow a mortal combat between Optimus Prime and Superman going on the fucking highway and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. I fucking get it. But this is just a fucking overturned truck!!!! What kind of bleak, shallow, existence do you bitches live that the sight of an overturned truck would excite you so much that you found the need to slow the fuck down hence causing a bigass traffic jam, getting me stuck in it for 2 whole hours?







And no bitches, it did not help that I needed to pee really badly and it was pouring outside. Yes, it was cold. It was freezing in my car even without the AC on. I fucking needed to pee. I mean, it's not like I'm a guy okay. I don't have a penis. If I have one, I would have whip "little CD" out and pee in a bottle. But I don't have a "little CD". I cannot fucking pee in a bottle. I can't deny that at one point that I really did think of leaving my car and go in search for a bush or something. I'll be like "Hey y'all! Listen up, I'm just gonna leave my car here and go to that bush over there and do my thang okay. I mean it's not like you guys are going anywhere anyways.". It was tempting. I can assure you that.








Dante wrote that the final circle of hell is when you are buried in the icy grave of your own tears. Clearly, Dante have never been stuck in a traffic jam for 2 fucking hours with a full bladder.








Also, assholes.......uuuhhh...... I mean Malaysians, we are back to the nosy issue here. Listen, what I do within the vicinity of my car is none of your concern. So what if I like to blast Kelly Clarkson's "Walk Away"........and then pretend to be Kelly Clarkson in my car? Albeit, a more ossum version of her. Huh? What if I like to do that? It keeps me zen. It keeps me from going crazy. It keeps me from running out from my car like a crazy bitch to find the nearest bush. Let me be. In my car, I am Kelly Clarkson. Also fuckface in the white Honda Jazz next to me, I saw you taking a video of me while I am in my intense rendition of "Since You've Been Gone". I saw you fuckface, eventhough you tried hiding your phone from me.





I. Saw. You.





I got your car plate number. If I find out that there is a video of me, doing my batshit crazy rendition of "Since You've Been Gone", in my car, on the net, I will track you down like the dog that you are. I will kidnap each one of your family, and then feed them to crocodiles while you watch. I will tape your eyelids open (a'la A Clockwork Orange), so that you cannot not look as your 76 year old grandma is being eaten alive by a particularly famished crocodile. I will not end you bitch, no, I will smash both of your kneecaps and your knuckles with a sledgehammer, Vegas style, and let your crawl away to your worthless freedom. Go on, live your life with the excruciating pain of broken kneecaps and knuckles and the memory of your whole family being eaten alive by crocodiles. That will teach you for videotaping me when I'm pulling a Kelly Clarkson in my car.

I'm onto you, white-Honda Jazz-fuckface. I'm onto you.

So yes, that is all. I hope you, my fellow Malaysians have a lovely rest of the evening. I do adore you and value your companionship........ when you are not being nosy fuckers that is. Except for that one Malaysian guy. The one who videotaped me. Yeah, this is a little advice from me to you: Ship your whole family to Mongolia, while you still have the chance to do it.








hugs, kisses, your fellow Malaysian,


the Constantly Dramatic One

Balik kampung! Ooohhh oooohhh ohhhh balik kampung!!!!

I bet you guys have been relentlessly refreshing this page going "Where oh where is the Constantly Dramatic One? Why is she not updating her blog 3 times a week on alternate days? Why have she gone missing? Whyyyy God!!! Why?!!! I need me some drama and who is there to provide me with some it it's not the Constantly Dramatic One herself?!!!!! Noooooooo!!!!!!!"


*hits refresh*


"She's still not here!! I cannot take it!! I can't fucking take it!!! Arrrggghhh!!"



*stab self in the eye with a fork*



....................................................Okay, in an ideal world in which people builds shrines and worship the ground I walk upon the above situation might hold some truth. But seeing that this is not an ideal world in which no one builds shrines OR worship the ground I walk upon, I bet no one gives a fuck where I've been. But seeing that I do in fact live in an imaginary world where I make believe that everyone -absolutely everyone- adores me, I'm gonna tell you guys where I've been anyways.



Nowhere.



No, really. As it is tradition with all Malaysians to balik kampung during the festive season, I ain't got no kampung to go back to. I am a pureblood of my hometown. My dad grew up here, my mom grew up a town away from here, all my relatives are here. When the rest of Malaysia (read: mudblood) is busy driving back to wherever other state that they hailed from, I'm living it up in KL. Basking in the sheer joy of being in KL without being stuck in traffic jams. That's right, KL with no traffic jams. Yeah mudbloods, suck on that. Y'all never get to feel that cause all of you mudbloods have to go back. Balik kampung.


*looks smug*


Okay, fine. I'm jealous.



I have always been jealous when people tell me they will balik kampung during the festive season. I never get to feel that. The anticipation of going to see your grandparents and favourite cousins that live 3 states away. The long road trip with the whole family. Okay maybe the thought of being stuck in the car with my mom when she's pissed off about something or other for 5 hours is not that attractive, but nevertheless it's different. The joy of playing fireworks, running around the kampung house, chasing the chickens..........so quaint. So old skool. So...............different from the noisy and shady life in the city. I mean I bet in the kampung when y'all open the window during the first day of Aidilfitri, you can see paddy fields as far as the eyes can see. Complete with a scarecrow. When I opened my window here during the first day of Aidilfitri- and I see my 57 year old neighbour washing his car, half naked, beer gut hanging out. Not a pretty sight.



You see where I'm coming from?




Nevertheless celebrating Aidilfitri in the city has it's advantages though. First and foremost- the wireless connection. Mwahahahahhaha!! I noticed that most of my favourite Malay-themes blogs, written by Malay people of course have not been updating. I bet it's cause they all balik kampung and can't get a decent connection. Hahaha!! I bet it's a bitch trying to get connection by the paddy field. I can get connection anywhere here in the city, bitches. Y'all have kampung, I got wireless. Also the cable TV connection here is also better and I'm thinking at night I wont be attacked by an army of evil, hungry mosquitoes either. Riiiigghhht?


I'm making assumption here of course.


But then you know I will not have that bakar lemang or dodol making experience either. *Le sigh*. Urgh, what the hell am I talking about. You people with kampungs to go back to win. So be thankful and stop grousing bout the long drive home, about the bus ride over 4 states or the fact that you can's stand that one bitchy Aunt back in the kampung. Count your blessings and know that each time you are there, you are making kampung memories of Aildilfitri we pureblooded city kids will never get the chance to have.




You lucky bitches.



P/S: I wanna apologize to my international readers if this post makes no sense to y'all. Think of it as a Malaysian cultural lesson, brought to you exclusively and dramatically by the Constantly Dramatic One. And yes, there are references to Harry Potter in this post. Thanks for noticing.

It's lonely on Aidilfitri

Disclaimer:

This is an emo post. Not a bitchy or a wildly amusing one. An emo one. If you don't feel like it than you can come back next week. I should be getting my mojo back by next week. But for now, I need to be all emo. And dramatic. Always dramatic.

*************************************

Tomorrow is the last day for Ramadan. Meaning on Wednesday Muslims across the globe would be celebrating Aidilfitri, the sign of the end of the fasting month and the beginning of the new Islamic year.

This would also be the first Aidilfitri where my family would celebrate without my sister and my brother. My brother have left for the States for 3 years now, the first year without him during Aidilfitri wasn't that good but we managed. And now that we have an addition to the family in the form of a brother-in-law for the first time, where should be excitedly celebrating together and all that but.......... the irony is that we will not be able to celebrate it together. It's sad. I'm sad.

Those Aidilfitri songs have never really mean anything to me. They're good songs, most popular during this time of the year. I never really listen to the lyrics until now. Those songs are deep man, who knew.

I was driving home the other day and one of it came on. I was stuck at the traffic light at that time. I was just listening to the song when tears came unbidden. Syahdu aku, nak Raya kakak ngan abang tak de. So I was just sitting in the car crying when I felt something on me. Some dude on the motorcycle was staring at me. His expression read "WTF crazy bitch?". And I kept on staring and crying and then his expression read "Dude, I don't want to deal with this crazy bitch" and he eased his motorcycle forward. Poor guy, probably was all confused.

When I was a kid, I resented Aidilfitri. It's so troublesome to go visiting the relatives, have to listen to aunts going about how fat I am, have to sit in the middle of my brother and sister, have to listen to my sister bitching, my brother's ridiculously loud Walkman, my parents arguing when they got the way to some great aunt's place wrong. Just too much shit. I resented it. I rather be home reading.

But now that those years have gone by, I realise how I miss them. Sure we bitch and we argue but we were together. In one place, in one country not spread out all over the damn globe. We were kids and we were a family on Aidilfitri. Now, it's only my parents and I. It's sad now. And lonely. I would give anything to grab the headphones from my brother's ears and threatened to throw it out of the car again. I would give anything to mess up my sister's do, the one that she painstakingly woke up at 6am to do. I would give anything, anything to hear them yell at me, telling me to stop it and then collectively say they wish I was never born. We were kids and we fight and we shared our food, and fought over the TV and we slept in each other's bed when it's raining heavily outside and the thunder's scaring us.

We were a family. And now we're not even together on Aidilfitri. They say you won't know what you have until you lose it and it's true. I learned it the hard way. I hope it is not the way for you too.

And now take it away Sudirman. Make me weep.

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri Malaysia.

Eid Mubarak world.

Maaf Zahir dan Batin.

Crap.

OMG you guys. Oh no. I lost my roadtax. My roadtax died like 2 days ago and my dad got me a new one. But I lost it. I put it on top of pile of assignments on the floor and now I cannot find it. I cannot find it!!!!

Shit.

Do you guys know if you can buy/purchase/whatever it is roadtax for the same car/vehicle twice? I rather not my parents know. If I cannot find it, I'll have to get a new one. Is there like a penalty? How much is it? Shit. I should go to JPJ right? Right? Shit. Where the hell is that?

OMG. I'm so scared. Does anyone know how much the penalty is and I just show up there right? Shit. I am so dead if my dad find out. Shit.

This is God's way of telling me not to curse and pray more often. Crap lah. Malaysians get back to me. And oh I can get stopped on the road for driving around without a roadtax right? And then I'm gonna get a ticket for that right? I never ever been summoned before!! Not even a parking ticket to my name!! Okay that was that one time for speeding but how the hell would I have know they set up a speedtrap?

Shit. And please nobody leave a comment that goes "It's in the last place you'll check." Obviously, asshole. If I have already found it why the hell do I need to search some more?

Okay, shit. I'm scared. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Please.

Does my brown skin offend you?

Right, so I have been bitching about this for weeks to everyone that would listen. Now its time to put fingers to keyboard and blog about it.


There's this mentality in Malaysia, the whole of Asia come to think about it that fair is good. Fair is beautiful. Everything white is exquisite and any other thing that isn't white is fug. Okay, maybe not in those terms. I watch TV, I flip through magazines and newspapers and I cannot recall a moment in time when I was not bombarded by some kind or other beauty product that promises "Fair and radiant skin in 30 days" or "Whiter and fairer skin, he would never let go of you now" or some kind of bullshit with that kind of premises. A promise of whiter skin in a bottle for non-white Asian women to feel better about themselves. I never really care about it.


Until now.


My moisturiser is finishing up. I give it another 2 weeks and I would need to buy a new one. I am not happy with the current one so I figure I finish that off and get a new product. So I walked into a store that prides themselves on facial regime and skin beautification. A salesgirl came up to me and asked me what I wanted. This is what I said:


"I'm looking something for my face. I have combination skin. Slightly oily T-zone, not that oily that the oiliness could be captured in pictures but oily enough for my nose to be all shiny under the light. I have dry patches on my cheek but not so bad but what I'm concerned most is the open pores, the size of the back of needles along my cheekbones. Any recommendations?"



People, it does not get more specific than that.



From that what would you tell me? Perhaps you would recommend the pore control regime, or maybe products specifically for combination skin. That bitch however feels that its a brilliant idea to introduce me to their skin whitening range.


Exactly.



"Why are you showing me this?"
"Oh this is our skin whitening range. It can make your skin fairer."
"What wrong with my skin?"
"It's not fair."



.............................Years from now, this is the moment when that bitch would look back and wished that she would have given me to one of the other salesgirls.



"Oh, my skin is not fair? That's a problem now? I do not recall having brown skin is ever a ...."problem". I remember perfectly well that when I came in, I highlighted that I have combination skin and open pores. At no point did I mentioned that I hate the colour my skin and would like you to suggest your skin whitening products to me. What is the logic in recommending skin whitening products to someone who has combination skin and open pores?"



I said all this without ever raising my voice. I said it all in a low, strict voice and I did not brake eye contact. My mother does this all the time when she's angry with me. The woman never yells, but she speaks in a quietly fierce way that seems to scare people. Over the years I have come to mimic it and achieved similar results. At this point of course, that bitch looked scared.



She didn't managed to answer anything. I'm sorry that I picked on her though. I bet that just what she's trained to do. I'm sorry that she had to deal with me. Now no offence to anyone who is into this whole whitening thing. I mean, go crazy. I on the other hand thinks its offensive.

Why would I want to put some magical cream on my face so that my skin would be whiter? That I would be beautiful once I become white? And isn't that shit weird when only your face is white when the rest of your skin - your neck, arms, legs would still be brown? What the fuck is that? Why is that when I walk into a skin care store; I am being told my brown skin is a flaw. Why the fuck should I use that cream and become white? No disrespect whatsoever to white people of course. I mean no offence no anyone. I am just perplexed.

What is so wrong with coloured skin?

It's not just in Malaysia, in India poor girls are buying face creams that promises them that their skin would be fairer. But some of the chemicals are untested and dangerous. They ended up with disfigured faces and some even went blind. All just because some time ago a group or marketing fucks dictated that fair is good. Fair is beautiful therefore we all must. What ever happen to pride for your skin colour? Why is that we Asians want to become fairer? I went to Thailand and I see the same shit in their shopping marts. Singapore and Indonesia going through the same shit as well. Why do Asian people wants to have fairer skin? What's wrong with our skin now? Colours make the world a more beautiful place. And yes, that includes our skin too.


I never would have guessed that when I was born bout 2 decades ago, my brown skin would be a flaw and make me look fugly. Well.... tough. I rather be fugly than change the colour of my skin.

My favourite chink..........

Disclaimer:

The following post contains a shitload of inside jokes. Some may be offensive or/and will not make sense at all. My bad.

The first time I saw you, I thought to myself "What a pretty girl." and after finishing that sentence in my head I was overcome with envy and decided right there and then to hate you. Coz you know you're just that hot. Then I saw that bigass tattoo on your back and I though "Holy crap, she's badass. Better not mess with her" so I tried to fly under your radar. Then not enough with that I decided that somehow along the way that you are a bimbo and I stare quietly at the back of your head when you sit in front of me in class with dislike. Then one day you came and sit next to me in class.

You smiled. I stared at you. You begun talking and I was shocked that you could actually form coherent sentences. But I'm more surprise that you are not a prissy bimbo the way I had you painted in my head. I was even more surprised that somewhere during that first conversation we had that I actually like you. That I actually could roll with you and suddenly the tables were turn. I am the prissy bimbo now. Not you.

And holy crap. I do like you a lot.

But I think that the time that we really bond is in that class when we both hate on that lecturer. Make incredibly lewd jokes about the size of his ass and bitch about everything and anything under the sun. Then we took all that from inside the classroom to the mamak where we continue the bitching. Damn girl those mamak sessions with condense milk coffee is the best bitching sessions I ever had. You bitching skill amazes me. Seriously. I have never had another friend who actually can bitch as well as you. You are truly my Numbero Uno bitching buddy. And yes, that is the highest compliment I could give to anyone.

And the best part of it all is that we hate all the same bitches and bimbos in college. Oh man, I truly and awfully miss those condense milk coffee days. And condense milk is the best. Fact. Then Cheesecakeerian entered the picture and then there were three of us. We upgraded from the mamak to Chilli's: 7.30pm-12am bitching session now over steak and bottomless drinks and that bayau Spanky McDestiny.

If destiny is kind, then one day I will be able to spank his ass. Until then lets just hope that day will come...................

And now you're flying off to your homeland, Germany. Its inevitable. You are after all an exchange student but I always forgets that considering the fact that you look so chinky half the time..........=p .Ahahahahahahahaha!! You can't kick my ass for that bitch, you're already out of Malaysia by the time you read this. But nonetheless you are an exchange student. And you need to go home. And with you gone I realise that:

a) I'm losing my Numbero Uno Bitching Buddy.

b) You are my favourite chink....I mean quarter-chink in the whole wide world.

c) Ghendut - the GOLDEN HAMSTER- and I, the Constantly Dramatic One adores you.

I'll miss you Fie. I'm sorry that I cant send you off but seriously its your fault woman. Why the hell you're flying off on a 2am flight anyways? KLIA is too damn far away. What if a Pontianak follows me on my way home? You could never tell. Maybe if you ever comes back to Malaysia we can go out again. Bitch about everything and anything under the sun. Or maybe one day if I do achieve my goal of becoming Clive Owen's mistress than he can fly me to the UK then I can take the train to Germany and meet up with you during Oktoberfest where you will get shitfaced drunk and I will hold your hair as you puke.

Whatever it is Fie, I hope that you have a safe flight. And hey at least we have Facebook and blogs for us to be in touch right? That should do until I become Clive Owen's mistress. And oh yeah, any time I go to the mamak again, I'll order two condense milk coffees. One for me and one in your honour. I'm drinking it for you.....Okay not really. I just need my caffeine kick and I just wanna drink two cups of coffee but its completely cool if I use your name right?

And remember........ May, there's a little chink in everyone. More so in you. That's a joke. Coz it was funny. Now laugh.

Ha. Ha.

You look so chinky in this light May =p