just minishorts.

Vincent says: This bloke guest blogging today calls himself 'The Other Kenny' simply because, well there is ANOTHER Kenny. He humbly calls himself an amateur blogger who most of the time doesn't know what he's talking about, although I disagree because even the 'professional' bloggers also don't know what they are talking about mostly.

AAhhhh.. the magic of blogging. Who knew that blogging could be something that's addictive. So addictive in fact that I, someone who's not really not into writing could end up having my own blog. A very bad one at that some more. Really, trust me. You don't want to read my blog. You won't go to my blog to read the crap I put on it. (hope this reverse psychology works, hehe)

Anyway… back to blogging. Bloggers from all around the world have virtually covered any kind of topic that any primate can think of. From food to sex life, toys to politics, controversial stuffs that can make the ISA come knocking on your door or just story about that little bitch who lives next door. It's a form of communication, something to let you voice your heart out and let the world see what you got to say about it. Whether it is as interesting as reading a well written novel or as interesting as watching grass grows depend on the writer. There's always something to write / whine / bitch / rant about.

But what's the point of blogging anyway? Some may say that it's a form of electronic diary. Something to let you write your personal details on. But I don't think it will ever take the place of the traditional diary. I mean would you write about your STDs that you successfully obtained from the trip to Thailand and let the whole world know about it? I don't think so. (No I'm not talking about myself).

Is it really a stepping stone into fame? Looking at how Mr. Kenny Sia is doing right now, maybe it is. He's indeed a popular guy, especially in Singapore. I mean who can fight the charm of his coconuts? Who can?? And Claire aka minishorts, who got fans that doesn't mind begging her so that they can write on her blog. (me being one of them) How cool is that? But they are just popular among bloggers and blog readers. But is it doing any good to them? Does the fame gives any privillege to them? Or will it end up forcing them to blog for their fans and not for their own. That would be bad isn't it? I mean you have to do something for others to enjoy and you're not even getting paid for it. How sucky would that be?

Or is it something you do to prove your existence in this world? Is it something for you to be regconised as a person in this overpopulated world so that when you die, you will still have your 'legacy'lives on? (wah lao, so 'kua zhang'!).

Whatever the reason are, bloggers will continue on blogging and blog readers will continue on reading it and some assholes will continue on stirring the blogosphere with controversial stuffs so that they can get that extra hits on they blog.

That's it for now. It's almost 2 am and I think I have bored you people enough. I don't want Miss Claire to lose her daily readers because of this boring topic that I've come up with. But I really want to know "Why do you blog?".

Do you believe all this actually come from someone who post a pic like this one?

Well. A very helpful guy once told his female friend, who was infatuated with another fella, that she shouldn't be wasting her time doing so much guessing work as to whether 'those signs' are real.

What emerged was a pretty intriguing conversation between the female friend and the helpful guy.

Helpful guy: Obviously, he keeps on coming back for you. He's doing so many nice things for you.
Female friend: Well, he's nice to me yes, and no guy's ever so nice to me, ever. I mean, I was stranded in Klang and he was in good old Cheras, at 2 am in the morning, and he comes all the way to pick me up.
Helpful guy: Exactly, and those chocolates? A present for you to make you feel better? Sure it's something special.
Female friend: Yea, and the CD. I didn't even know he knew that I was looking around for it. He ordered it from the States, you know?
Helpful guy: Well, you better do something about it, I mean, you ask him to stop being so nice to you lah because it's causing an eyesore to the public, unless you like him. And then, four months adi it's been like this. Damn eyesore you know. Other people want to go after you also don't dare.
Female friend: Is it that obvious that I like him?
Helpful guy: Duh, anyway I don't blame you lah. If I'm a girl I might fall for these tricks also. Look. You have to stop pondering what if, so much. Your man's smart, but he's a little dim-witted in these things. Sometimes the girl has to push the guy. Besides, he'll enjoy the attention.
Female friend: What do I do to push the guy?
Helpful guy: Tell him you love him.
Female friend: Eh. Cannot. That will make me look cheap.
Helpful guy: Girl, you have to take the initiative. We're not living in the Victorian Age anymore. And guys are dim-witted, remember!

OK. NOW YOU SAW THAT LAH. THAT FELLA GO AND SWEEPINGLY SAY THAT GUYS ARE DIM-WITTED, which I personally feel is an overgeneralization. Look, I don' think guys are dim-witted per se, although I'll admit that some of them are dim-witted (just like SOME girls are blur yay).

But in these sort of things, personally, I WILL SCREW WHOEVER WHO THINKS HE'S BEING A DAMN HELPFUL FELLA by telling the girl to 'tell him you love him'. That is the most chee-bye nonsense I have ever, ever seen. OK lah, she can push the guy, help him a little, drop hints, allow him to know that she is aware that he likes her, but call the guy to tell him, 'Hi, I love you?'

What sort of nonsense is this? THAT IS THE ONE THING YOU CANNOT EVER DO, until you know for certain that you already have the fella (that is, you're already IN a relationship). You know lah, how egocentric most men are, they will always blow situations out of proportion. For instance, my best friend once told a guy, 'I think I have feelings for you lah… more than normal feelings.'

See, you see that line, does it LOOK like I said, 'I love you'?

'I think I have feelings for you' is not equivalent to 'I love you', you stupid ass.

But you know what happened? The cheebye fucker went around telling everyone that she wanted to court him. Like damn wanted like that. Of course lah in the end he became a standing joke in our circle of gossipy friends.

Dim-witted men? MY ASS. EGO-MANIACS more like it. I can have feelings for HELLO KITTY also lah… what the fuck. I can even tell you straight to the face here, here, here that I have a crush on Viewtru('s blog). Does it mean the same as me going up to Viewtru and saying 'I LOVE YOU'?

NO RIGHT?

SO there. Dim-wits. Nabeh. I didn't called you guys dim-witted no-nuts. A GUY SAID THAT ABOUT GUYS: 'GUYS ARE DIM-WITTED, REMEMBER.'

And I say this, no dim-witted guy should EVER deserve a girlfriend. You want to get fucked? Go find some wits first. Having no brains is no excuse for having no balls. You're MAN for fuck's sake, you want a girl, YOU TELL HER YOU LIKE HER, don't make her go around for four fucking months, and then when she gets some lame advice from another male friend, and goes up to your face to tell you, 'I love you', you give her the deserved respect, and NOT go around blowing your own trumpet about how SHE was the one who courted you.

I wonder just how many of my high school friends read this blog. Because they hardly leave comments, and very seldom do I get e-mails from these people asking me how I do, I'm going to assume there are very few.

I'm also going to assume that BECAUSE there are very few, they won't feel the thorns that I might just plant into this particular post. But if you feel them and they hurt you, I'll apologize first. I know honesty isn't the best bet in things like these, but then again, I'd prefer honesty over pretentious smiles anytime.

A number of people know that in my first official relationship, I went out with a high school friend who had apparent brains, and a pretty respectable ambition. It lasted three years, and it was just atypical of a high-school relationship. I was very much in love, 'in love' in the definition of that times. I'm not ashamed about that.

You have got to be in love with someone to be in a relationship that lasted three years, and when a three-year relationship breaks down, obviously, I broke down. I'm not ashamed about that either. But after that, time washes away emotions, and love is not a constant. You move on, and I moved on.

What I do not appreciate, is the fact that people refuse to let you move on, and insist on reminding you of the time when you behaved like you were forever going to be left behind. Perhaps, the real scenario isn't very much like that anymore… but several events after the break up just leads to me thinking like that.

Like for example, the reunions that stopped involving me.

The meet-ups that stopped involving me.

The friends who used to call, who stopped calling me.

The times when you see photos of groups that used to include you, that stopped including you.

After a while, you don't know what really makes your heart ache: was it the broken relationship? Or the truncated friendships?

However, as time goes, you begin to let these people stay in the past. You begin to realize that you just have to live in the present, and there are people who are more deserving of the title 'friends' now, than before.

So pardon me, if I stopped wanting to care if you cared.

Oh of course there were the inevitable bump-intos. You can't avoid them. Almost a year ago, I bumped into a girl, A, an ex-school mate whom I used to be rather close with, until after the break-up. I bumped into her at a local bookstore, I was in a rush to go to a meeting, she was there to get some stationery. I was at first, happy to have met her again.

At first, I thought, it would be easy to let bygones be bygones.

But they wouldn't let me. They wouldn't.

I thought it would be nice to talk again, so I cooked up a conversation. It began with a 'hi', and then shortly after, that customary, 'We must talk again.' Maybe it seemed unnatural, but you have to start somewhere, and then.

The 'must talk again' was a quick jolt back to reality.

'You know,' I remember her saying. 'I'm so happy you look better now. It was so hard to talk to you, you were crying all the time.'

'Oh. Was it? I can't remember, really.'
'Yes. Hai, no need to talk about these things.'
'Yeah these things are really stupid.'
'Oh you look so much happier now. You didn't have to cry so much, you know.'

Ma-hai.

Some of you will probably understand why I decided to block some people on my IM list.

The truth is, I've tried, I've tried not to deny the recent invitations. I know there is the possibility that the old mates have now begun to grow up just like me, except I'm still a little sceptical, and a bit cynical, and terribly suspicious of motives.

The truth is I'm also a bit tired of brushing off remarks like, 'You didn't have to cry so much, you know.'

The truth is, it hurts to be reminded, and to talk as if my past had a role to play in the apparent 'mask' that I wear now. It is also the fact that you do not seem to want to respect my present, and the people I love now, and the man whom I love now matters more to me than the past heart-breaker I used to go out with can ever imagine.

The truth is, you disqualify my current life as a farce just because I stopped belonging to your circle..

So suddenly, when the circle decides to initiate an official reunion, and I'm engaged in the arrangements, by virtue of my participation in a high-school forum that is half-alive (because no one else from other cliques ever go there), I shy away from the discussion. I make up excuses. I don't want to go.

I know it's not all of you, and that's where the dilemma lies. It's not all of you. It's just a handful, but it's because of the handful that I do not feel like going.

Then I thought of it again: if I don't go, what would they say? Sure, I ought not care, but can you really, really, not give a fuck? I know I can make you think that I don't give a fuck, but why should I pretend that I really give a fuck and I get bothered that these people will might say things.

And then there're the other people who I really, really want to meet, that I feel I'll miss out on if I not go. Like the teachers they're inviting, and the friends who still bother to come to visit me every Chinese New Year. Yet because of that handful…

Although I'm not deciding, not yet. I have a few months to decide, and I'll take my time in doing that.

Don't mind me, I got emotional. Or maybe, I was just pulling out the weeds.

Phew. Just when I thought I don't have a single damn thing to write about, a certain Mr. Lim comes along and saves the day. Thank you thank you thank you thank you and too bad for you. Bwahaha.

So, without further ado…

1) If given a choice to decide your birth, where would you choose?
Hospital lah duh. Sanitary what. And the mortality rate of being assisted by a doctor during birth is like, the damn low.

2) If given a choice to meet your 1st friend who will be with you for a lifetime, where will it be?
Can it be a fictional character? Yes it CAN. Because *I* am doing this meme and *I* can make it any damn person *I* want it to be. Spiderman. But it has to be Tobey Maguire (sp?) as Peter Parker. Just because Spiderman is like, so cool. And like, so strong. And Tobey Maguire is the type of geek who is like, so hot. I would so like, enjoy being hated by a LOT of women, and then Peter and me… we would like, laugh about it over hot chocolate and marshmallows by the fire place. Muahahahaha. I would so like, rock.

3) If there's a flight accident & you end up lost somewhere, at the end of the day where do you hope you are at?
Not lost, thanks.

4) Where do you hope you met your 1st love?
Where? Fucking hell. I would spend more time thinking about the WHO bit CAN! Who CARES about the where bit first man?

5) Where would you want to have your wedding?
It’s hard to think about where when I don’t even have a WHO to be wedded to. Tiu. “Where” to have a wedding is the LEAST of my concerns now. If I like say, meet Mr Right tomorrow, I can get married in my own backyard JUST *snaps fingers* like that. And besides, I’m still a bit too damn young to think about all this marriage business SHEEESH. WHO CAME UP WITH THIS SHITTY MEME??? Some deluded 15 year old chick who spends her whole time dreaming love and marriage?!?!?! An advice? GET A LIFE. START DRINKING.

6) Where do you hope to enjoy life when you retire?
Some quiet, FRIENDLY English village, with 4 seasons in a year and pretty flower fields that go on forever. These are signs that I have been watching too much movies from Hallmark. I need to be warded.

7) Everyone will die sooner or later. So given a choice to decide your deathplace, where will you choose?
CHOI. WHAT KIND OF SICK TWISTED QUESTION IS THIS? I DO NOT ENJOY THINKING ABOUT DEATH. So the 15 year old kid just got dumped by her first love and not feeling so deluded anymore, is it?

/end

Dude, these questions are seriously HARD. Damn you for making me rack my brains at this ungodly time of the working day… and I don’t even have my vodka Ribena with me. Sheesh.

Oh yeah. Obligatory picture. Don't have any new one So I'm nicking this from KY. Loving the tshirt….. except the "We" should be an "I", and the "hour" should be "hours.

Please get me one of those. Preferably one with correct grammar. Cheers.

Want to throw cyber pies at me? aphroditus(at)gmail.com

Damnit Mini, this is getting too hard. I quit!!

Hi! This is Viewtru, the Social Commentary guy.

I’m feeling kinda underprivileged. And all because of this ‘toilets and cars hot spots for sex’ article.

44% of the people have had sex in the loo.
I’m not one of them.

38% have had sex in the car.
I’m not there either.

24% have had sex in their parents bedroom.
Struck out there too.
In fact, when I’m in my parents bedroom, the last thing I wish to think about is sex.

I’m so not with it.

There’s more.

2% have had sex in aeroplanes.
Can you here me groaning? I so wanted to join the Mile High Club, moaning in ecstasy one mile above the ground. But no, I didn’t have that kind of luck. The most I can ever aspire to is to join the PPS mile high club for bloggers who have racked up 1,000 or more blog postings. That is the sorry version of the Mile High Club, I know.

If that is not being underprivileged, then I don’t know what is.

Here’s the kicker: “…the average Malaysian has sex 83 times a year…”

Damn chia lat, now I’m not even average. This sucks.

On the plus side of my life, I wrote one whole chapter yesterday for my NanoWrimo effort. That’s right, one whole freaking chapter. I’ve just published Chapter 3 of the 3-in-1 Kungfu Girl story. Twelve more chapters to go. If I can maintain this speed, I should be able to complete the NanoWrimo challenge. The storyline is coming along better than expected. Better than my Li Daifu story or the inane Viewtru’s Lantern Tales. The only problem is that it is going to be slightly X-rated. I doubt if I would be able to sell it to the major studios. You know how stuffy those dipshits are. They can’t stand a little bit of modern progressive thinking.

Maybe I ought to write less sex.

And become sexually more ‘average’.

So tell me, are you average yet?