I knew your mom before she knew how to rock

I went to an Offspring concert in Melbourne in 2001. I knew it was before my blog started coz I didn’t have a digicam and got a disposable camera just for that. I also remember someone from #Sibu (the IRC channel on DALnet) who happened to be in Melbourne at the time asking if she could come with me.

Your Mom

Now, this girl would claim later to be very much of a punk rocker. As Fat Mike put it, she should have been on the cover of Drunk & Disorderly (or Maximum Rock’n’Roll). But she wasn’t always like that. Back when she just arrived in Melbourne, she was a timid little country mouse, afraid of everything in the city.

OMG are you sure it’s going to be safe?
Yes, I told your mom. It’s a concert, FFS!

What if they are racists?
I’ve lived in Christchurch, New Zealand when I was 15 and can attest that Melbourne is way more cosmopolitan and there’s not much in the way of racism – I can go to raves and doofs and frequently I am the only Asian there but it’s always fine.

Oh fuck, there’s skinheads over there!
No, they’re just punk rock enthusiasts, I assured her.

I don’t wanna be in the mosh pit!
Now this, this statement really tested my chivalry. There are limits to what I would do for someone I barely know and have just met for the first time in person. This was pushing it, especially since I feel no particular fondness or even the slightest bit of affection/attraction for her. I told your mom I’ll be happy to get her a ticket to the seated area but personally, I am going into the mosh pit.

Oh, please don’t leave me!
It’ll be fine, I told your mom. It’s a regulated concert, not some underground event and I would have said its fine even if it’s the latter. Melbourne is a very safe city compared to most other cities its size.

I’m scared!
Keep in mind that I was not out to fuck your mother. I had no such designs on her fa plus sized ass. I couldn’t have done it even if I wanted to, swear to God, I am not your dad. My first experience with full penetrative sex to completion was at 25 due to a fear phobia of HIV.

Nooooo, you said you’ll come with me…
This is something I did do but in all fairness I did tell your mom that we’ll be having MOSH PIT TICKETS and we’ll be going into the mosh pit. I never knew your mom would turn up in heels (!!!). She didn’t even know what a mosh pit was back then, even though I had patiently explained via IRC and ICQ and told her not to wear anything that can’t be spilled on/torn/ripped the fuck apart.

…and in the end, being the nice guy that I am, I ended up going on the Rod Laver Arena stadium seats instead so we could be seated together. Our seats happened to be just overlooking the mosh pit, with a 2 meter or so drop down via a metal bannister. I could see a few people slipping down into the pit and getting chased by security so I thought I’ll wait till the concert starts.

The opening band (Bodyjar/28 Days) came on and more people jumped down to the mosh pit. Some managed to run/crowd surf *deep* into the mass before security managed to reach them and thus got away, while others were snagged by the long arm of the law mall cop right before they could reach the haven of jumping bodies.

I was one of the latter. I told your mom that I’m going in (Nooooo don’t leave me aloneeeeee she wailed, to no avail, coz the Offspring was on and I was really caught up in the moment) and jumped. I saw the security opposite me say something into a radio and two security beefcakes ran up from behind me – they were previously obscured by the wall so I didn’t know they were there.

I tried to leg it, running as fast as I can to reach the mass of sweaty bodies. One of the security dudes caught my arm and just before he could apply pressure, I flicked it out of his reach.

I saw a few moshers at the pit fringes looking at me and shouting encouragement, hands held out, waiting to pull me in, to where the security can’t reach me…

Offspring Concert 2001

I reached out, my left hand almost connecting with a sympathetic fellow-concert goer, who dragged me into the protective custody of her bosom, wedging me between her sweaty melons and her friend in front while I tried to weasel my way further into the crowd…

…before two tree trunk sized arms grabbed me from behind and forcibly hauled me off my feet and dragged me to the fire exit.

I was given a stern talking to (Do that again and you’ll be out of the stadium) before I was let back to my stadium seating.

It should be noted that the mosh pit tickets are the same prices as the stadium seating, this wasn’t an issue of money but a fire code violation. You can’t have too many people in the mosh pit area in case there was a fire – the amount of people need to be able to be evacuated safely by the existing fire exits, which is also why there’s a queue into popular clubs – something which is foreign here in Malaysia, so I feel like I have to explain.

…and when I re-appeared next to your mom she was so relieved. She thought that I was kicked out and was about to walk out to find me coz she didn’t dare be in the arena alone. In the 2 minutes or so that I was gone, she had a mild panic attack, an existentialism crisis, and did some hand-wringing to boot.

Next time I saw your mom was 5 years later when I started working and in the ensuring time, she had re-invented herself as some kind of rock goddess, the person the song Punk Guy by NOFX was talking about (except she was a girl) and every time she said something, I’ll think back to that day in Melbourne when I first (and last) met her and just had to laugh.


The story of the little gangster that could

Betrayal 1

The story of the little gangster that could

Betrayal 2

Homo Ahbengus
Native to: Malaysia, Singapore
Mating habits: Often and indiscriminate
Social behavior: Hunts in packs
Sanctuaries: Sibu, Kuching, Miri, Klang, Cheras

Ultimate goal in life:

Betrayal 3

To own a semi-automatic handgun (preferably wrapped in newspapers, the classic but rather cliched method of concealment).

Job description:

Betrayal 4

Loan shark. Getting usurious money lending interests or gambling debts by property destruction, kidnapping, intimidation of the borrower, family and extended family (and pets if they have any).

Betrayal 5

One day, after getting a RM 3,600 interest from a borrower, his IQ 64 brain creaked and slowly came to the seeds of what he thought was an ingenious idea.

β€œI’ve got it!”, he exclaimed after 3 solid hours of hard thinking as the sun began to set in the horizon, still holding on to the wad of money.

Several startled birds flew off at his personal eureka and a couple who was doing the horizontal boogie in the abandoned car park furtively looked up and started quickly dressing.

He has worked long and hard to become the right hand man of the boss. General consensus was that he’s an asshole (which makes him Employee of the Month material in this line of work), just not very bright.

The latter was in fact the primary reason his boss trusted him with a handgun, though he did not know it.

Betrayal 6

Thus, when he concocted a cock and bull story about how one of his borrowers ran away to the freezing wastelands of Siberia and left only a RM 10 note, it was not altogether surprising that his boss looked at him in increasing incredulity and growing annoyance.

Betrayal 7

The boss expressed that annoyance in very reasonable discourse…using his fists.

Now, our protagonist did not think that was right. He has worked hard and risked his life (or so he would like to think, his victims were mostly degenerate gamblers who cringed when he raised his voice) and made his second intuitive leap of the day.

Betrayal 8

He thought it would be nice to be the boss for a change.

Betrayal 9

He slowly walked towards his boss as he slipped a very sharp knife out. He has a gun but unfortunately no bullets to go with it. His boss, being a little bit smarter, had only given him 3 bullets and he had used them all in a previous assignment. There was a gang war then and come to think of it, he didn’t think it was an accident that he walked into a room with four armed men and a gun with only three bullets.

Betrayal 10

He mulled on that piece of information as he stabbed, slashed and generally butchered his (now deceased) boss.

Betrayal 11

Then, he shook a cigarette out and smoked it ponderously as he thought about how wonderful it is to be the boss with a large gang beneath him. As I have previously mentioned, he is a bit slow.

Thus, when a random police patrol passed by two hours later, they saw a man sitting on top of a dead man, both of whom was very well known around these parts largely due to their criminal enterprises.

Betrayal 12

The man was covered with blood and appeared deep in thought.


Notes: This was a photo shoot I did over two days during Chinese New Year. Willie of I-Concept Event Agency introduced me to Jason, who runs Jasongs Photography. I’ve known Willie for years (he’s Jeanie’s brother) and when he asked if I could do him a favor by being a model in a photo shoot, I was happy to help out.

Jason and Willie just got into a partnership and they do a lot of wedding photos and family shots. They wanted to do a high pass shoot – there was a lot of fake blood (which is permanent if it gets on your clothes), location scouting, multiple flash units to light everything up and early mornings. That is not a real gun – it’s a Beretta 92F replica. It was a lot of fun to do and we found this really cool abandoned house which would be great for photos.

I wrote this tongue-in-cheek post when I saw the photos just now. I agreed to help with the captions so I have an alternate post on Facebook with completely different text. It’s more serious and gritty, you can view and read the photo story here. Let me know which one you think is better. πŸ™‚

Commercialized blogs (and a bedtime story)

I just finished writing an advertorial and saw a comment from an old reader lamenting the fact that my blog seem to have lost its soul. You know, I agree with him/her. I sat down earlier today, and I had two options, doing a standard post or one I REALLY wanted to write about (File Under: Bedtime Stories).

A lot of bloggers hold back from writing what they really want for fear that clients would desert them (Oh, sex, we can’t have that, coz people might be CONFUSED) and this really limits your creativity.

I believe that we should reclaim our blogs, write what we want and if some clients can’t deal with that, well there’s always other more open-minded clients who want your personality to shine through instead of churn out press releases. Soft sell is the way to go.

Thus, I have decided to write a post under FINE (which is FICTION BTW, none of this is true – the disclaimer is not for commercial but personal reasons ;))
No Strings Attached

you know who

Now how many times have I heard that line? I’ve always maintained a healthy skepticism whenever someone says that. There are usually invisible cords after the deed. No strings attached? There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

The CLOSEST I ever got to NSA (not National Security Agency) was this girl who left after doing the horizontal boogie but still grumbled.

However, I met this girl 2 years ago who is fucking hot and intelligent to boot. Please refer to the photo above – mosaic-ed and blurred to the point that you can’t differentiate it from an edelweiss from the Alps. I’m not going to show any original photos, hell no way Jose.

Anyway, the second time I met her, the conversation steered to relationships. It somehow meandered into the No Strings Attached (TM) question.

“No strings attached”, she said.

Hmm…I was doubtful. If I had a dollar for every time I hear that I’ll be a motherfucking billionaire by now. Well, maybe not la, but you get my point.

I tested and prodded, pushing the boundaries, telling her exactly how it’s going to pan out. We had lunch and adjourned to my place where we both knew what was going to happen (I know you’re reading this, so don’t deny it – you knew ;)).

Anyway, after making out for a while, I went down on her before penetrating her.

“Don’t come inside me”, she whispered as I drove my cock shaft into her warm and wet cunt.

I’ve had a couple of drinks so the quality of my erection was rather substandard. She moved into the 69 position for a while before doing a reverse cowgirl.

That was the image that I remember the most – the experience burned into my retina and my mind’s eye:

Her unique ability to bend her body so far down that all I see is her perfectly toned and shaped ass.

Did I mention that she has a smoking hot body? Lean as fuck – All killer, no filler.

Well, I can’t come that fast when I’m drinking so after a couple of positions (also remembered going doggy style) I went down and fingered and licked her clitoris till she came.

The interesting bit is she doesn’t make a sound when she’s coming. She had a really good reason for that but I’m not going to write it down lest inference and extrapolation identifies the female protagonist.

I still haven’t come yet so I asked if she swallows. She said it’ll be weird to after I’ve fucked her. Fair enough.

Can I come on you then?

This is not a question I usually ask coz it doesn’t really matter to me whether I do or not. I don’t particularly enjoy it, it doesn’t make a difference. However, since the answer was yes, I came all over her perfectly shaped tits.

Anyway, this isn’t an erotic story, it’ll have more smoky details to it if it were – this is meant to illustrate the No Strings Attached (TM) oxymoron.

It was the very first No Strings Attached relationship I’ve been in – she didn’t expect me to call or anything like that…and I have much respect for that. A person, nay a wild horse like me, something that cannot be tamed – kindred souls.
No strings attached, no Fine Print (TM).
You have proved me wrong eh. πŸ˜‰

A Question of Etiquette

You’re right down there, doing the horizontal boogie with this girl when out of the corner of your eye; you see a text message come in from this girl you slept with the night before.

“I just tested positive for (insert communicable STD). Please see a doctor before you have sex with another girl.”

What do you do?

Do you pull the brakes on the entire enterprise, knowing full well the damage has already been done, or do you finish what you’ve started?

A question of etiquette…


Got your attention? This post is entirely fictional. DIG.IT.ALL is the largest outdoor music festival to hit the shores of Malaysia. Get your tickets in ruumz!

P/S – This is not an advertorial. It’s just a favor for LiLian to help promote the event. Besides, which client in their right mind would approve a copy like this? πŸ˜‰ 

The Lift

the lift

The elevator doors opened. I walked in, saw someone coming from the side of my eye and held the lift open. She is probably around 35 or so, carrying grocery bags, wearing a skirt and a white top with a dragon tattoo on her left arm. She’s not unattractive, most people won’t kick her out of bed, but she’s not the type that makes the XY Chromosome brothers do a double take either.

I pressed 9 for my floor. She reached over, paused and smiled at me.

I smiled politely back. I was tired from work and I just wanted to get home and write a bit more before sleeping.

“Which side are you at?” she asked while favoring me with a smile.

“I’m over that side” says I, pointing towards the front of the moving elevator.

“Oh, I’m over that side,” she said pointing in the opposite direction.

“So…do you live alone?” the mysterious stranger continued, her words pregnant with meaning.

“Yeah. You?” I asked non-committally while weighing the odds of a rendezvous with this representative of the female species.

“Same here”, she replied while holding my gaze suggestively.

The lift door opened.

“Nice tattoo” I said, gesturing at her left arm, before walking towards my condo.

I heard her say “Thanks” from behind me.

I could have offered to help with her groceries. I know where this would lead. It’s Familiar Territory (TM).

Male: Here, let me help you with your bags.
Female: Thanks! *opens door* Do you want a drink or something? Come on in.
Male: You must be tired from all that walking. Let me give you a foot massage.
(scene fades to black, cue faint moans)

I didn’t though. I was so tired from work that I just wanted to get home. I opened my door, looked over. She was still at her condo entrance at the end of the corridor, looking at me, smiling.

I smiled back and walked into my apartment.

Why the hell did I sleep with you?

bedtime stories

I was sharing the Rule of Three during a post-coital conversation with my partner. The Rule of Three, for the uninitiated, is the formula which aims to nullify male bravado and female diffidence with regards to the number of sexual partners.

The formula goes:
Take number of sexual partners and divide by 3
Female: Take number of sexual partners and multiply by 3

My partner told me she only had one prior sexual partner – her ex-boyfriend. I told her that according to The Rule of Three – that means she actually slept with 3 guys (multiply by three for females). I’ve told her previously that I’ve had 3 sexual partners in the past so she’s the forth.

HB: Thus, according to The Rule of Three, I’ve only had one – 4 divided by 3 leaves one, so you’re the first. πŸ™‚
XX: I don’t believe that.
HB: Yeah, I told you the truth the first time, I’ve only slept with three of my ex-girlfriends before.
XX: Why the hell did I sleep with you?


XX: Coz I really do like you.
(This was said after 3 minutes as she took off her clothes to take a shower. The 3 minutes was spent diligently typing the entire conversation on my cell phone with one hand. One thumb rather. With her watching over my shoulder. I was LMAO the entire time.)


(after the shower)
XX: You’re the only guy I spontaneously slept with. I’ve only known you for two days. I still don’t know why I slept with you.
(after a minute of pondering)
XX: Okay, I do know. I like you. You’re only the second guy I slept with.
(after looking at me for my reaction)
XX: Damn, I should not have fallen for that smile of yours in the first place.
(after a pause while smiling at me)
XX: Hey, if I said I actually did fall in love with you in the past few days, would you believe me?
HB: Yes, I would. πŸ™‚

…now go to sleep, we’ve got work tomorrow.

Dear Aries: Your friendly neighborhood agony aunt (or uncle) debut

Problems stressing you out? You need an outlet for your anger? No cats to kick or other methods of venting frustration?

dear aries

Fear not, dear readers. I have introduced a new category in sixthseal.com called Dear Aries. It’s basically where you can write in about your personal problems and I will read and listen with a sympathetic ear and give you advice (which I hear is the worse kind of vice ;)). This is the first letter I have received from Confused in Miri, Sarawak.

Spend some time with me, say you’ll be mine

Dear Aries,

I am caught between a rock and a hard place. I met this girl at work and I’ve been attracted to her ever since I saw her. I’ve been secretly admiring (God, I hate this word) her for a while now, though I knew she was attached. Her boyfriend picks her up from work everyday and I’ve been wanting to ask her out ever since I saw her. I spoke to her a couple of times when we bumped into each other at the elevator and she seems like a nice person.

Anyway, fast forward to several months later and I started noticing that her boyfriend has stopped picking her up from work (God, I’m such a stalker). Curious about this sudden change of affairs (and seeing an opportunity), I inquired about the situation when I bumped into her again. Apparently, the boyfriend is Out of Town (TM) so I decided to ask her out.

Well, you know what love is right? It’s psychical attraction at first sight and then personality compatibility at the second stage. That’s where the problem comes in – we hit it off immediately. It’s like we’re kindred souls, and we started going out for lunch and at night. I’ve never met a girl like this before, one that I could easily talk to and open up with.

Anyway, pretty soon we had a rather intense relationship going. It’s pretty much all or nothing with me. I gave this relationship everything I had coz I thought this girl was Worth It (TM). Was she The One (TM)? I don’t know, but she’s been the closest “one” ever since this pharmacist I was going out with in Kuching broke up with me.

It was really, really good for a while. I literally worshiped the girl. She’s a little older than me and she’s very mature and that really appeals to me. She grounds my impulsive, self-destructive personality and she’s been really nice to me too, little gestures like bringing breakfast for me coz she knows I only drink coffee for breakfast.

Anyway, pretty soon The Boyfriend (TM) found out about the relationship and all hell broke loose. She stopped seeing me, although we still talk on the phone and arrange for secret, quick rendezvous sessions. Lately though, I have noticed that it’s just not good enough for me anymore. I don’t want a “girlfriend” that’s only available on the phone instead of being beside me. I hate the feeling of not being able to hug her and kiss her and just feel the comfort of being with her.

She was very honest and open with me that she’ll be leaving very soon and that we could never have an open relationship. It has to be covert due to the Unique Circumstances (TM) that she was in. I thought it would be good enough for me, but back then at least I got to go out with her. She can only stay at home now and just talk on the phone due to Restrictions (TM) placed on her since being found out. We can’t even go out now and it’s probably going to remain this way until she leaves.

What should I do? Should I just call it quits and pull out? Or do I torture myself by being a hermit for the remainder of the time and stay at home in the very rare occasion that she manages to sneak 10 minutes to be with me?

Do I pull the Band Aid off in one quick motion or do I pull it slowly off?

da confused

I used to say I never met a girl like you before,
Still ain’t got a fucking clue to who you truly are…

Please help,

Dear Idiot,

I got bored reading your letter halfway. Your verbosity exceeds even that of Ayn Rand. Has anyone ever finished reading Atlas Shrugged? I didn’t think so.

Kindred souls, my ass. How long have you been going out with this girl? It’s probably still the honeymoon period right?

I’m not even interested to hear about your personal attributes, which you so generously sprinkled throughout your letter, you narcissistic fuck.

Get to the fucking point, you took up several paragraphs writing the background which could have been achieved with six words in bullet form.

Okay, let me get this right.

1. Girl = Unavailable.
2. You = Infatuated.
3. Girl = Leaving.

That’s the gist of what your long winded letter was saying right? Read your #3 again. Again. And again.

Which part about leaving do you not understand? Imbecile!

You pathetic fuck, stop feeling sorry for yourself and move on!

It seems like you listen to Eminem from the quote from Spend Some Time. It’s a very good break up song, I have taken the liberty of scouring YouTube for a video and embedding it here for you to listen to and start being a man again. Listen to that bit about “but when someone seems too good to be true, they usually are”.

Quit using “anyway” and “well” as paragraph leaders in your writing. It’s very irritating to read.

Oh, and over here in Malaysia, we call them “lifts” not “elevators”.

P/S – What’s with that (TM) shit anyway? Your dad patent the word one izzit?

Black Kingdom: Chapter 2 – A Brave New World

a brave new world

I didn’t know what lead to it, but the four of us started to walk
together and talk like old friends, joking around and everything. The
events during the school sports day started to bore us, so Ah Boon
suggested that we head off to smoke. Smoking! It was unheard of in my
limited social circle, which consisted mostly of “good” people, when I
was back home. I was apprehensive but attracted as well so I went along
even though I haven’t started smoking then. I was interested to try
though, but parental conditioning made me turn down the offer of
cigarettes by Ah Boon.

I was only 15 at that time as my birthday had not passed yet. I
still remember what I asked when Ah Boon, Tom, Aaron and Chen lighted
up. I said, aren’t you worried about lung cancer? Boon had a strange
answer – he didn’t mind dying early as long as it’s an enjoyable life
and smoking is one of life’s greater pleasures. I even remember what
everyone smokes – Ah Boon favors Dunhills but would go with Mild
Sevens. Tom would only smoke Dunhills or this Japanese brand of
cigarette that has one word – “kaze” for wind in the front. Aaron on
the other hand doesn’t care for anything except Davidoffs.

We walked around Church Corner, where my house and the high school
is located. There is dairy shop right there that has this dodgy looking
but nice guy who sells cigarettes and adult magazines to anyone, even
if you’re in school uniform. πŸ™‚ It’s not your run of the mill Playboy
and Penthouse magazines, he carries the hardcore mags too, and always
wraps it in a black bag when selling to minors. Heh. The legal age to
purchase cigarettes was 16 at that time in New Zealand, but 1996 also
saw a legislation change that made the age limit 18 instead of 16.

I remember a funny incident that happened during the day of the
legislation change. I had started smoking later, and there was a very
strict but nearer dairy opposite my shop. I was unable to purchase
cigarettes till the day I turned 16, and I proudly displayed my Student
ID as prove of age and bought a pack of cigarettes…and the law
changed a scant week later, to which the strict but near dairy owner
went “Hah! I know you can’t be 18 coz you just turned 16 a week ago! No
cigarettes to minors.”.

That forced me to walk to the further but lenient dairy at church
corner. The four of us hung out once in a while, mostly in school, but
I was still going out more frequently with Sam and the others then.
Besides the drama production practice, we sometimes go to this youth
group, which is an interesting mix of half innocent kids and half not
so innocent teenagers. Cannabis was a common drug then, one tinny
(foil) goes for NZ$ 20 and it has about 1 gram or so of weed.

However, I have still not smoked nor taken any drugs at that point.
A lot of my friends are users (on Sam’s side), but I had read that
drugs are bad mmmkay, so I just passed the joint along whenever someone
has weed, which is quite frequent. The availability of cannabis and LSD
was to high school students was surprising. I was interested in
chemical and plant substances due to reading a lot about it and wanting
personal experience, but I was still not comfortable about even smoking
weed then.

My first cigarette was at this all nighter youth group function
where several vans full of people went Go Kart racing, then adjourned
to an indoor water park, before going to a laser tag game and then a
ball at some far away horticulture place before ending the night with
two back to back movies. I remember one of the movies I watched was
Mars Attacks! It was an all day till the next morning event, and it was
during the ball that I first started smoking.

There was this girl chain smoking the whole night, even making the
driver make stops to buy more cigarettes. Everyone calls her Kitty.
She’s from my school as well, but one year younger than me and I
remember Abba’s Dancing Queen playing during the ball and I was
standing beside her and she asked me if I wanted a smoke. I thought
about it and reckoned that since I was interested to try, now is a good
time as any.

We shared a cigarette and she laughed at my inability to inhale. πŸ™‚
She taught me how to properly smoke a cigarette, not just holding the
smoke in the mouth and exhaling, but chasing the smoke down with
another intake of breath so it gets into your lungs. I wouldn’t say
that I liked the taste of tobacco, but it was a memorable experience
and the song that played during that time still reminds me of that day.

End of Black Kingdom: Chapter 2 – A Brave New World

[ List of Characters ]

Next: Black Kingdom: Chapter 3 – Bonding [sixthseal.com].

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