"Building Balls."
I promise not to bore you with random mundane boring details of my trip to Malacca. But I can't help it--I know you're interested. So here's basically what I did there--I screwed around.No, serious, I went on Casanova mode and on a rampage in Holiday Inn. Someone ought to tell me the difference between flirting and being sociable, and being excessively sociable.
On the second day (Saturday), we woke up early for breakfast, because breakfast is normally meant to be an early experience. I didn't experience much of breakfast though, or at least I experienced more heart palpitations than breakfast. And now, time for a rhetorical question--Why is that so?
Because there was this beautiful waitress walking around cleaning up and serving drinks. I was wondering if they served women and pussy juice and I was wondering how much hers would cost, when it occurred to me that it was supposed to be a buffet and thus, no additional cost. And since it should not cost me additional costs, she is, technically speaking, mine. And what should stop me from getting what's mine?
My balls.
In the face of beauty, I had only one response, and that's not me getting Indiana Jones hard. That's me being shy. And I completely went on a mimosa-mode and shied away and didn't smile nor make eye contact at her.
That was until my uncle enlightened me and freed me from my inhibitions. He simply turned around and talked to a bunch of girls behind us (one of whom was from ACJC, as stated on her shirt), and had quite a short conversation with them. He then turned to me and declared something like "Nothing much one what, be confident." And with those magic words, I did it.
I rose magnificently from my seat and sauntered to where she was clearing plates from. This conversation ensued:
Me: Hey, do you have Facebook?
Her: Mmm...yea.
Me: Can I add you on Facebook?
Her: Mmm......OK.
Me: So what's your name?
Her: XX,
Me: Oh, that's quite a common name, do you want to give me your email address so I can find you for sure?
Her: Mmm...OK.
Me: So can I add you on MSN along the way?
Her: Mmmmmm....OK. (:
And so I got her email address and Facebook. Just at that moment, my aunt came down holding an iPad, and there was free WiFi there..
..so I went ahead to stalk her Facebook and show her her profile picture to confirm if that really is her
Me: Whoa, this is you right?
Her: Yeaa -shy-
Me: VERY PRETTY LEH.
Her: -smiles abashedly-
SO CUTEEE.
My uncle joked about consultation fees for the lesson in "Building Balls", but I insisted in paying in ringgit to better suit the locality of Malacca, and he decided to dispense with such monetary reimbursements altogether.
At the lobby, there was a female Santa Claus, selling Christmassy stuff such as log cakes. I was quite intrigued with flirting with old, plump, bearded men, so I went ahead to help myself with her
Me: Hey, does Santa Claus have Facebook?
Her: Ya.
Me: Can I add Santa Claus on Facebook?
Her: Can.
Me: So what's your email address?
..and she complies. An easy win.
I want to hit on every female Santa Claus I see in Singapore. I hope my lesson in Building Balls can sustain me throughout the years.
Picture time~
This is where we stayed. Laksamana? Where's the laksa? For the ignorant, "mana" means "where".
I always thought such low-level grammatical errors can only be Made in China. I didn't find anything stating that this board was indeed Made in China, but still, this is quite....interesting.
Such irony. It's "Open", but locked. Thanks for the helpful and most illuminating sign, perhaps they should consider reading the sign from the outside of the LAN shop than from the inside of it.
This is quite..self-explanatory I guess. It's very ironical to give students incentives to drink, perhaps this is a subtle hint for children to be more filial and bring their parents out for drinks at this karaoke place?
So...anyone low on sperms? My father informed me that "Tongkat" means walking stick, and "Tongkat Ali" was named as such because the root of the plant is long enough to be a "tongkat".
This is one of the more humorous pictures I've ever taken in my life. If you can't read it, don't worry, it's the bad camera and general dimness of the place that's causing you problems with reading it, not a defect in your monitor/eyes. It reads: FOR SALE, 50RM. PLEASE CONTACT MR. FUCK. This was pasted on a person's car--At Jonker Street. Here's a background story--At Jonker Street, roads are closed during the night on weekends, and everybody sets up shop outside their own shops. It's kind of like pasar malam, except on a bigger scale. This car got in the way of a stall, and the owner didn't come back at all. I think this is quite a good way of dealing with such nonsense drivers--At least they didn't key it/smear shit all over it.
A nice view of the sea from the hotel:
I cannot relate to Malacca, or Malaysia at all. I really really don't understand how the Chinese there work. I feel this sense of pride whenever I see a car with a Singapore car plate, because that car plate is a sign of solidarity--He is one of ours.
I cannot relate to Malaysian Chinese, because I have a friend who doesn't understand Chinese at all despite being Chinese herself. She does understand dialects though, and when I asked my father about it, he said it's entirely possible that people from the KL region and Northwards don't understand Chinese, but dialects.
That's something not reflected in Singapore--It's increasingly rare to hear teenagers using dialect. And from what I've heard or was made to read about, Malaysia doesn't seem that racist altogether. Perhaps it is, but I didn't feel it to be that way. It just seemed..quite OK. Perhaps it's because Malacca consists of mainly Chinese people.
Then I started wondering if I was born a minority group, would my values be different? Would I feel marginalized? Would I be racially discriminated against?
It got so painful and depressing that I went ahead and drank a lot of alcohol. Of course I didn't get drunk, but the general sentiment was that I got a bit red in the face and had slightly disoriented movements. That didn't stop me from going back to the lobby upon receiving information that Miss Santa Claus was there.
I still had problems going up to her to talk to her though, it was after being dared (several times, mind you, I don't really get dared into things to assert my balls most of the time) to talk to her that I did it. I had quite an interesting conversation with Santa Claus (who was already in home clothes and not in that ridiculous(ly sexy) outfit), and barely 3 sentences into the conversation she asked me to speak in Chinese instead, to which I complied.
It's really interesting how...segmented a country can be. There was my friend who couldn't speak Chinese in KL, and there was this new-found friend who'd prefer me speaking in Chinese than in English.
Size does matter. Singapore is too small to be so segmented. And that's probably why we managed to survive anyway--there's not much to salvage, not much to make sure of surviving.
And that's why I treasure Singapore.
-- 12/05/2010 11:24:00 PM