Ferrell and Heder Never Had It So Gay

Ferrell and Heder summoning the gay gods

Even if you are not a Saturday Night Live fan or you are not easily cracked up by the cheesy spoofs in Conan O’ Brien’s show, you would still love Blades of Glory. Even if you are not too gay to love figure-skating or not too perverted to yearn for this sport because of the numerous camel-toes, trust me and my fine taste, this movie will give you enough ass-bumps.

Some scenes are outrageously disturbing (in a funny way) that I don’t advise the viewers to bring along soda and popcorn. Most of us in the cinema were laughing our asses to death that my car key jumped from my pocket. Clarebear and I had to go back from Basement 3 to the cinema foyer, and ask the staff for my car key. Luckily they found it! Whew!

As this blog is a recommendation to watch the movie, I wouldn’t spoil your appetite by disclosing its plot and the funny scenes. But I would say that the “Bangin’ Scissors or Egg Breakers" (or whatever you want to call it) and the “Iron Lotus” finales in their winning routines are certified jaw-droppers/jaw-breakers. Hehehe, remember to open your eyes and cover your mouth when you watch these moves.

The contrasting farcical demeanor of Will Ferrell and that Napoleon Dynamite kid, Jon Heder, brings enough titillation to make you wet your pants.

Chazz Michael Michaels (Ferrell) is the fiery, brusque, raunchy and narcissistic figure-skater/sex-addict/porn-star.

Jimmy MacElroy ( Heder), the long time arch-nemesis of Chazz, is the cool, soft, limber yet overly-competitive character, who was painstakingly moulded by his foster father in becoming an “uberskater”, even way before his first pubes sprouted.

How did they end up skating as a pair and how were they able to merge their contradicting personalities and styles on ice? Well, don’t ask me! Watch the movie!

And by the way, here's a photo of my car key:

Thanks to the KLCC-TGV staff for returning it to me!

A Picture Paints A Thousand Words

I wanted to entitle this post as "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words", but it sounded cliche. Ok, the current title's thought is just the same, but it is less used and it kinda makes me sing one of my all time favorite karaoke hits, Bread's "If". Lest that I start singing and mesmerizing you with my chilly voice, I will unplug my Magic Mic and commence my plopping.

Call it a Eureka moment or not, but as Archimedes’ law of displacement came into effect in the water basin within my “throne”, a great idea flashed like a halogen bulb. Pling! Since the general concept of my blog is about being crappy, why not put a photo of myself crapping?

After washing (I need to point this out for hygienic purposes), I hurriedly got my Canon Ixus 850IS 28mm lens camera (I bought it cheap in BB Plaza! 7.1MP and optical image stabilizer, nice ey?) and took some test photos of my throne and myself sitting on it. I reviewed the photos in my Dell XPS Intel Duo Core laptop and admired how sexy my legs are, despite them being hairy.

However, I remembered that the general color theme of my blog page is poopy-brown. I would destroy its color coordination if I put the picture of my blue throne in the header. So what came to my mind were the toilets of Shangri La and Concorde hotel. As far as I can recall, their toilets are somewhat in earth colors. But before driving down and having a toilet pictorial in these hotels, I suddenly remembered that I have another bathroom which I know has a different color.

I opened the door and smiled. I couldn’t remember being ecstatic over a toilet all my life! (except when I was riding on a bus to a far away province and I over drank this dairy product.) I retook photos…

…and the rest is history.

By only putting a picture of a toilet bowl in the header, one would know what this blog is all about. It is a fair warning of the crap they will have to encounter if they choose to continue browsing down. Some will even be reminded that they forgot to dump in the morning and that they have to go to the loo immediately. No need for me to put a foreword, a disclaimer or a caveat. The picture paints it all. And so does the hair on my legs.

Dead Birds

Dead birds. Creepy.

Hundreds of dead birds fell from the sky in an area in Australia. Tests say it's not caused by any virus or toxic chemicals. This might be an isolated case but it still scares me.

I saw a dead bird in my balcony two Decembers ago. It was a crow.

Head lying on a small pool of blood.

A few black feathers on the floor.

Felt nauseous upon seeing it.

Had been dead for days.

Rigor Mortis.

Blood had dried up.

Some kind of a disease? Someone shot it? Dogfight with another bird?

Why did it choose to die in my balcony, out of a thousand balconies in my neighborhood?

It haunted me. Was it an omen? I looked out for interpretations in the internet.

It took me 3 days to throw it away. Its head was stuck to the dried-up blood. I had to pull it like a bandage glued to a fresh wound. Or did I use the dustpan to wedge it off the floor? I could not remember. My head was spinning during the extraction. My heart was pounding. My stomach was cramping.

I did not give it a proper burial. I just stuffed it into a black bag and threw it in the refuse chamber.

A few days after, I noticed a smudge on the glass door leading to the balcony. And there was a tiny feather on the smudge. The crow crashed on the glass door. The impact killed it. That explained the head injury. The tiny feather was the black box.


I believe in signs. Dead birds, especially the black ones, signify something negative. I treated the omen as a warning. A few days after the seeing the dead crow, I experienced one of the darkest moments in my life. I almost took a u-turn to the netherworld. Everything turned out fine.

Who knows the real cause of the dead birds in Australia? Whatever it is, we should take it as warning---a big, big WARNING...

Crashed

I connect the dots of the golden city lights, and i form loneliness.

how can these terrestrial stars outshine my usually sunny disposition?

the cars skidding happily in the clear roads cause the heavy traffic of an emotion which i've never traversed for years.

how can lightness bring unbearable weight?

i flew while dragging someone's heart. i wounded the woman who has loved me unconditionally-- and the only one i have easily learned to love.

at this height, at this hour, behind shut windows, in this dark room, the view is serene.

i look at the starless sky.

i fly---

but I crash into the prison of a cage i myself made...

Let There Be Light...Stinking Shite!!!

Plop!

This is the sound of a thought, from its fragmented, crude and amorphous state, as it transforms and drops into the swampy world of ideas.

Yes! This is my shit, beings of the animal kingdom (yes, it includes your dog and cat) and other intelligent life forms outside this planet.

From the dark,winding and murky tunnels of my brain (and intestines), this shit is moulded. Its conception may not be immaculate, but it is divinely inspired(?).

Thus, I humbly implore you to relax and sit comfortably, as you partake in my ritual of "plopping". From the annals (no pun intended) of my receding memory or the innards of my myopic foresight, be shocked and be awed by my bowel movements!