Monday, June 21, 2010
This is not a joke. I’d rather make friends with the petrol station Bangla than listen to these songs.
5. Uncle Kracker – Follow Me
His name is enough for me to hate him. Uncle fucking Kracker. But it’s cool because it’s spelt with a ‘K’. You know what haunts my nightmares? Him playing this song to a bunch of idiots around a campfire, and everyone is clapping to the beat. Fucking nightmares leave me, please!
Worst moment: The finger snapping at the beginning. Excruciating.
4. Ricky Martin – Cup of Life
First of all, this is one of the dumbest song titles I’ve ever heard. It’s a sports trophy - get over it. Cup of LIFE, for fuck’s sake! Talk about overdoing it. And secondly, this is the gayest thing to happen to football since David Beckham’s mohawk.
I hate anything from Ricky Martin, period. When everyone else was chanting “Goal, goal goal!” like a bunch of little homos, I was crying myself to sleep. It’s football, you don’t need to bloody sing about it.
Worst moment: The ‘waving cheer’ during the chorus.
3. Who Let The Dogs Out – Baha Men
"Well, the party was nice, the party was pumpin'
Yippie yi yo
And everybody havin' a ball
Yippie yi yo"
Enough said. Let's move on.
Worst moment: The name of the band. Baha Men, for fuck's sake!
2. I'm A Big Big Girl - Emilia
I'm convinced this song was written in two minutes by an epileptic monkey. "I'm a big big girl, in a big big world." Brilliant. Call Shakespeare and tell him he's no longer considered a literary legend.
If you like this song, I sincerely pray you get leprosy someday (leprosy is Rajjiv's new favourite disease - Editor).
Worst moment: Everything, as far as I'm concerned.
1. I Feel Good - James Brown
I am convinced this is the WORST song ever written. There is not a single thing right about this fucked up song.
I always hated how TV channels used to play this song over 'funny' montages of their shows. Hey everyone, let's play this song and string together clips of Chandler dancing, Raymond shaking his ass and Buffy winking like a fucking spastic, so that it looks like they're all dancing to this song. I FEEL GOOD! FUCKING RIDICULOUS! Who pays these people?
James Brown is thankfully dead and can never perform again. All his songs suck and this one takes the cake.
Worst moment: IT ANGERS ME THAT AFTER LISTENING TO THIS SONG, I DO NOT FEEL GOOD!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Recently at work, I had to email a colleague who asked everyone to call her ‘Nini’. Yes, I know what you’re thinking – I wanted to shoot her in the chest as well.
Now, I had to look up her name in our database to find her email address. I assumed that her real name had a ‘ni’ somewhere in it – thus the unspeakable nickname ‘Nini’. I assumed wrong – because I am unable to think like a complete moron.
Her name turned out to be Nurul Aishah.
WHY THE HELL IS SHE CALLED NINI?
I sent her the email. And signed it ‘Please kill yourself. Yours, Rajjiv.’
I have said this before and I’ll say it again. I hate nicknames. Never tell me to call you something other than your real name, because I will punch you in the neck.
All three major races in Malaysia have offended me here. Let me show you how.
Indians – Telling everyone your ‘home name’ but not your real name.
Why do you need a ‘home name’? I’ll never understand this. It’s the gayest shit ever.
This is a true story. Someone tried to add me in MSN but I rejected it. Later, I met this dumb bitch who was apparently called Devi.
Devi: Rajjiv! Why did you reject me in MSN?
Me: Huh? I don’t recall you ever adding me.
Devi: I did. And you rejected me.
Me: The only person I rejected was someone named Maheswari.
Devi: That’s me.
Me: I thought your name was Devi.
Devi: That’s my home name.
Me: You will die alone.
Someone explained to me that Indians have home names because they’re sometimes named after their older relatives – therefore it wouldn’t be prudent to call him/her by name, out of respect for said relative. My solution: DON’T BLOODY NAME YOURSELVES AFTER YOUR STUPID RELATIVES.
Malays – Everyone has a stupid, pointless nickname that has nothing to do with their real name.
Everyone knows this and hates it. Till this day I’m not sure what my Malay friends’ names are. And worst of all, the nicknames are borderline retarded. Do you really want to be called Ajoi? And Bob. How the hell did a Malay guy end up being called Bob?
An old acquaintance of mine was called Hanim, but her nickname was ANIM. Dumbass.
And while we’re on the subject, why are all Malay restaurants named D’something? There’s even a D’Tomyam out there somewhere. French tomyam! This is an epidemic that the Malay community really needs to look into.
Chinese – Giving yourself some silly ‘English’ name.
Oh god, some of the names I’ve come across. Why can’t y’all stick with your original Chinese names? I will never get this.
When I was in Systematic College, the guy sitting next to me told me his name was Kelly Tan. And the following week, he told me his name was Oliver Tan. Needless to say, I changed my seat.
There was also a girl named Lucky Ho. I am not making this up.
My mother’s school actually had two Chinese kids named Arthur and Guinevere. Both had no idea how to spell their names but would answer to nothing else. Royal idiots. Someone should stab them with the Excalibur.
During Form 5, one of the most feared Chinese gangsters in my school decided he needed an English name. He chose Marty. How intimidating.
Moral of the story – if you’re named Tan Ah Seng, stick with it. You really don’t look like an Oscar or Clarence or Fernando.
So, what nicknames are acceptable?
I mentioned earlier that I hate nicknames. However, I love them when they’re done in mean spirit, or when they’re hurtful. I am a very hateful person and this is how I express myself. I also hit children when nobody’s looking.
Here are some acceptable nicknames:
Fat Piece of Shit that Nobody Likes
Your father has two wives (not really a nickname, but suitable to call someone who is in said situation)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Today, I realized that I am slowly being punished for my evil ways.
I received a message in Facebook, of which I was one of the many recipients. Check it out yourself.
Yes, that’s right. Apparently I am an Indian girl who used to go SMK St. Mary. Jesus fucking Christ.
WHY DO THESE THINGS ONLY HAPPEN TO ME?
Look at that picture again. Everything about it is wrong. The message, the names of the girls. Dear Lord, help me.
Yes, yes, I can’t wait for our little reunion. I can see it already. A bunch of lumpy, stereotypically Tamil Indian girls dressed in big collared t-shirts and ¾ tights waddling about in some waterfall in Sungai Petani. I can already smell the sickeningly sweet stench of cheap hair oil.
To the genius who decided to include me in this abomination of a message, and to the person who gladly replied “Around August!” with such repulsive enthusiasm - A plague o' both your houses!
Monday, December 28, 2009
To be honest, I felt nobody was reading this shit. I'd rather post stuff on Facebook, where I could see people actively comment. This blog seemed a bit... dull.
Of course, like before, people started asking me why the hell I haven't updated the blog. So... looks like people ARE reading it. Meh.
So since I don't really have anything to add right now, I'll just let you have a few random thoughts of mine. I say thoughts, they're mostly rants.
-If you thought Sai Baba devotees were fucked up, retarded, faggy freaks who should be slowly tortured to death, you really have not encountered Hare Rama Hare Krishna devotees.
-Why do Malays chat-laugh like this - 'Wakakakaka' or 'Ekekekeke' or 'Huhuhuhu'? And why do they sometimes end a typed sentence with 'Erk'?
-To the Indians: Stop giving me shit about Surya being a serious 'actor'. He's just as retarded as Vijay and is a total joke. I wish I could take back the 15 minutes I spent watching Kaaka Kaaka - it was pathetic and you know it.
-Till this day, I'm not sure how to drive to One Utama.
-I finally got drunk with a Kazakh dude. I asked him about Borat and R Lizer and all he had to say was 'It's bullshit, man!'. He also invited me to his house in Almaty. Sweet.
That's all, folks. Will post higher quality shit the next time.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
MOVIE PREVIEW OF…
Kadhal Dot Com
Three simple words.
Starring Abbas, Harini, Prakash Raj, Dilli Ganesh, Visu
‘Kadhal Dot Com’ is a story of two people who are brought together through the Internet. Brought together in Love. By Love. For Love.
Although they remain cyber-lovers online, they have no idea that their families are great rivals and will never accept their union. When will their parents realise that their love is not only Kadhal… it is Kadhal dot Com.
Abbas plays ‘Karthik’, an honest, jovial youth who likes to have fun and drink with his uglier, darker friends. He loves chatting in the cyber café, but when he chats you can hear him speak out the dialogue in his mind so that you don’t really have to read what he’s chatting when you’re watching the movie.
Harini plays ‘Swarna’, a decent college girl who follows her father’s every wish. She, too, loves to chat.
Prakash Raj plays ‘Swarna’s Dad’, an uncompromising bastard who will learn about true love at the end of the movie. Well, not at the very end, just close to the end.
Dilli Ganesh plays the same role he has been playing for 30 fucking years.
Visu plays ‘Wise Older Man Who Teaches People Life Lessons By Manipulating Them in Hilarious Yet Touching Ways’.
Guy-Who-Looks-Like-Younger-Version-of-Vadivelu plays one of the ‘Uglier Darker Friends’.
Pandian plays nobody because he’s dead.
Some Song Lyrics
Track 3 – Cyber Ponnu
Nee than yen Cyber Ponnu
Kadhal dot com…
Cyber Ponnu login pannunge…
Track 6 – Chatting La la la
Chatting La la la…
Chatting La la la…
Oooh yeahhh… Kadhal….cyber…SMS….
Chatting La la la…
Chatting La la la…
Track 7 – Mannusuku Email
Internet ulagam… cyber kavithai…
Yennaku Yahoo, unnaku Googazh
Britney Spear dancing teriyuma…
(Rap) Yeah yeah, Kadhal.com
Friendster, Orkut is all just Kadhal for me
Check it out, check it out.
Lyrics by Vairamuthu’s retarded brother.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I like Schoolgirls
Fuck each and every one of you guys out there who says he doesn’t like schoolgirls. Well, to clear things up, I don’t really like school girls per se – I like girls in school uniforms, so they could be of any age. Then again, I’m a registered sex offender.
So, yes, Japanese girls, with me you can be free to wear that little sailor uniform. And the short skirt. And the high socks. And the white panties. Ok, no panties.
I Think Giggling is Sexy
I want you to giggle at everything I say. Preferably with one hand coyly covering your petite mouth. “Hey you look so cute!” GIGGLE! “Hey I love your Hello Kitty bag!” GIGGLE! “Hey my uncle's daughter got raped so he killed himself out of shame!” GIGGLE!
I like Your Body
Japanese girls are not flat! They’re perfect. Ok, maybe a bit flat, but still perfect. Each time I say I like Japanese girls to an Indian girl, she says “Oh, they’re so flat”. Well, sorry, I’m just not into huge child-bearing hips or ‘big because they’re fat’ boobs.
PS – I would like to clarify that Indian girls are not all big hips and fat boobs - some have moustaches too.
I’m Into Whimpering During Sex
Japanese girls don’t moan in pleasure or scream out your name during sex – they just plain whimper. Sometimes with a finger in the mouth. I’m doing her, and she’s whimpering – in pleasure, apparently! That is just so tits. Anyone who’s watched Japanese porn knows this. Fuck off, don't stare at me, you all have.
I’ll Piss On Your Face
First of all, we shouldn’t make fun of other people’s customs. People do things differently in other cultures. We kiss during sex, Japanese people just piss on each other. Don’t laugh, this is serious shit. That reminds me – they sometimes crap on each other too. But that’s just gross. Sick Japanese bastards.
Hate Mail I Received Because of This Post:
I am a successful Japanese woman from
YES ME RIKEY YOU RONG TIME TOO. I RESPECT ALL JAPANESE WOMEN. I WISH FOR YOU TO GIVE ME MANY MANY SEXY TIME PREASURE IN PENIS AREA. I WANT TO DO YOU FROM BEHIND. THANK YOU PREASE. SAYONARA PREASE.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I remember her smiling as she saw me holding the book. It was rare to see her smile then – the cancer had taken a huge toll on her. She said to me gently “This is one of my favourite books. And I want you to have it.”
I nodded, but I never read the book. Video games and television had captured my attention. The book lay under my bed, gathering dust.
Two weeks later, my grand-aunt passed away. I remember family members shifting the old antique bookcase into the storeroom to make room for the funeral. Those books were her only treasure. I felt my heart grow heavy because I knew they would never be read again by eager eyes full of wonder. Her eyes.
When I got home, I picked up the old book my aunt had given me and opened it. And I felt my eyes fill with tears. My grand-aunt had written a single word on the front page – ‘Hope’.
With a warm cup of hot chocolate by my side, I snuggled into my old armchair and began reading ‘Chicken Soup For The Soul’.
Fifteen minutes later, I was drowning in a pool of my own thick glutinous vomit and feverishly clawing at my eyes like a rabid mongoose screaming "The gayness! The gayness!"
Screw you, Grand-aunt. Seriously, screw you.
Anyway, here are some stories from the latest edition of ‘Chicken Soup For The Soul’ – ‘Chicken Soup For The AIDS Patient’s Soul’.
The STD Inspirers
Everyone in this world has a purpose. No matter how insignificant you think you are, you live to inspire someone else.
We, the victims of AIDS, live to remind people how fragile life can be. (hesitant pause) Well, maybe LIVE isn't the right word to use here...
AIDS is not a limitation to faith. These days, finding a person with good faith is like finding a needle in a haystack. (hesitant pause) Well, maybe NEEDLE isn't the right word to use here...
Still, we press on. We never give up. We would rather die than stop trying. (hesitant pause) Well, maybe DIE isn’t the right word to use here...
So, even if you're a needle-sharing homosexual drug addict who has unprotected sex with multiple partners, there is still hope. (hesitant pause) Well, maybe NEEDLE-SHARING HOMOSEXUAL DRU...never mind.
Life’s Beauty – A Poem
The lilies beckon to the lonely dove
Little fairy folk on buttercups
I hear the song of a nightingale in love
You have AIDS
That Little Bastard
Once upon a time, there was a very sick little boy. Now, although he had to lie in bed all day long, he always wanted to go out and play. He often saw the other children outside his window, playing and laughing and longed to be with them. So he decided to pray.
He prayed “Dear Jesus. Please make me better so that I can go outside and play with my friends.” And so he said this prayer every single night before bedtime.
And one night, the boy opened his eyes and saw a man standing before him. This man had kind eyes and a beard. And Jesus said to the boy ‘My child, come closer and you shall know my love’. And Jesus kissed the boy on the forehead, and the boy fell asleep, dreaming of playgrounds and ice creams and lollypops.
When Jesus returned to Heaven, he was stopped at the pearly gates by St. Peter because he had contracted AIDS from the little boy.
“That little bastard!” said Jesus.