The Last Mile

2 more papers to go.

After that i'm going to learn how to cook for 3 months and become Jamie Oliver or Anthony Bourdain.

And appear on TV shows..'The Domestic Godfather'.

Pfft..my far-fetched dreams.

Slam my physics goodbye

There seems to be a lot of slamming in the news lately.

Seen in the 'The Star' today:

-Groups slam PAS for its motion against SIS at assembly

-PETALING JAYA: Fomca has slammed the Bar Council..

-Chew slams PAS Youth

The word slam just makes you think of a giant hand coming from above to slap you. Or the manga 'Slam Dunk'. Or the Michael Jackson song. Or the 'rock' group. Whatever.

Slam sounds like a bullet word. No, not those dot bullets. Real bullets, the ones that George Bush loves to use on 'them terrorists'. SLAM! Hits you right in the face.

Why can't they use nicer words, like 'Chew politely criticizes Pas Youth', or 'Chew gives Pas Youth encouraging advice'?

That's the real cause of global warming, hot and spicy words.

Of People and Farts

It's fascinating how a simple whoosh of wind from a person's posterior can prove to be an antidote and a potent poison.

Imagine this scenario: You're trapped in an elevator at Sogo, Saturday afternoon. Everything's quiet and suddenly, a foul stench erupts. You gasp for air, your lungs constrict, and you nearly vomit. It's like a gas chamber, which makes you wonder if some Nazi invented the elevator. 

If Hitler knew about this poison, he would have saved a lot of money on Zyklon-B, and spent more on eggs and baked beans.

Now for the second scenario: The same Saturday morning. You woke up on the wrong side of bed, and nobody sent you any friend requests on Facebook (argghhhh! im unpopular) 

You go to Sogo and take the elevator. You stomach clenches all of a sudden, but you're afraid of becoming a threat to national security. So you let it out bit by bit, hoping no bass rumbles would give you away.

And you did it! Now you hide a wide grin and watch the 1/8th degree homicide unfolding in the lift. People around you give sharp stares (while gasping) and you stare straight at them, as if to say 'You did it, didnt you?' 

Finally the door opens at the perfume floor. Other people rush out like Japanese traingoers attacked by nerve gas. You laugh out loud at your success. It's better than perfume :)