The Only Beer Drinking Blog

In some distant Middle Eastern country, where sandy desert terrain is all you see and the women folk are dressed in burkas, 50 Cent and G-Unit have been hired to play a rap concert.

After the concert the promoter refuses to pay them the US$10-million in cash he promised, but relents after being threatened by 50 (PAY ME MY MONEY YOU F%CKING HOE@!!!!). However, instead of the cash they were promised he gives them a diamond-and-pearl encrusted human skull as collateral. This is promptly stolen by a team of high-tech mercenaries. 50 Cent (with the help of a selected G-Unit partner) decides to get it back at any cost.( RAPPER Style YO!)

So with no army or any experience fighting in the dessert a bunch of rappers takes guns and starts firing away at these terrorist to get their bling back Yo!

Hmm you must be thinking I must have had some crazy dream last night. But NO. This is actually a real video game that fiddy and crew came up with. I’m serious and ain’t joking. It’s sequal tothe first 50 cent game (Bullet Proof), Blood on the Sand is the new 50 cent game. The story line? Exaclty what I had written above. Yup it’s about having a rap concert in some muslim country and then after their stuff gets stolen they go on a rampage to get it back.

Here take a look of 50 blasting some terrorists

< Yup thats 50 cent beating up a terrorist in his home country. Who cares if 50 doesn’t know any proper combat techniques. The ways of the street is good for ass kicking in the desert!>

< You might be a terrorist, but this is how we do it it the streets yo!>

Next time the US government wants to send troops to the middle east, they should get a bunch of rappers to do the job instead. Heck, FIddy should be the chief commander and lead the US troops to victory in hummers with rims that spin like crazayayyy!!..

No it is not one of my clever little remarks (although it certainly sounds like a cool remark). Reason is a music software programme where you can attach your MIDI keyboard and create riffs and fills and loops and etc. Unfortunately I don’t have a MIDI keyboard so whatever notes I want to be played using the software, I must map it out in the programme which is a bitch because I hate doing the timing and all that. But all in all, it is a really really cool programme.

Here is something that I am working on.  Let me know what you all think:-

[audio:http://www.dannoisawesome.com/tunes/song2.mp3]

Seriously, I was busy in the midst of doing my work when I decided to check out facebook and noticed that you get a lot of people supporting Earth Hour! They are literally begging you to switch off the lights this March the 28th in support of Earth Hour.

My company and the client I am at, has plastered Earth Hour 60 on all our desktops and laptop. Facebook groups have sprung up coaxing members of the facebook community to support this Oh so Green event.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am gonna give my full support to this event. At 8.30pm 28/03/2009, I will be most probably sitting outside of my house with a candle and strumming on my guitar singing hippie songs all through out the one hour. Earth Hour acts as a symbol to fight global warming. A symbolisation of something can have significant impact (such as the Christian cross, metal fingers, peace sign etc etc).

But what I’m hating is that the number of morons who say they support Earth hour and have suddenly turned all Hippie and green are the same bunch of wankers who can’t stand to take a bus to work or walk to a place nearby. They can’t stand an afternoon or night without air conditioning. They also couldn’t care less about chucking beer cans into their neighbours backyard and polluting the earth.

Folks, there is no point supporting earth hour if you are going to be switching off your lights for one hour and then turning on your airconditioning, your tv, the fan, the air conditioning for your dog fido, your hair dryer all at the same time and you are out having drinks with your mates.

Am I just filling up this Aside section with random Junk just so my page looks longer?

Tired of malaysian radio stations. You know we have crappy radio when all 3 main radio stations play Rihana at the same time. GOD save US!!!

Intelligence is way too over-rated. Wisdom now is another.

The downside of working with a bunch of females in office is that they always turn up the air cond to tropical like weather. 26C is insane!!

I can’t recall if I have posted up this story on my blog before, but it is an interesting one which makes us ponder on our defitinion of happiness. Is neglecting your kids, family and friends really worth that new Beamer or another gold chain???

The Fisherman’s Parable

An American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked, but what do you do with the rest of your time?

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life, senor.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution.

You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But senor, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15-20 years.”

“But what then, senor?”

The American laughed and said “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”

“Millions, senor? Then what?”

The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

Me and all my friends
We’re all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There’s no way we ever could

Now we see everything that’s going wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don’t have the means
To rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change

It’s hard to beat the system
When we’re standing at a distance
So we keep waiting
Waiting on the world to change

Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They would have never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on their door
And when you trust your television
What you get is what you got
Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want

That’s why we’re waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change

It’s not that we don’t care,
We just know that the fight ain’t fair
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change

And we’re still waiting
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population
So we keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change

We keep on waiting
Waiting on the world to change

There is one important rule for a person living in a western society when you venture into an unknown country (Asian usually and maybe African) for the very first time. One should always take the effort to check the local toilet etiquette of the locals before even stepping out from the plane. You may deem yourself adventurous due to the fact you have taken a dump outside your house when your wife had accidently locked you out of the house and you wiped your ass with some dried up leaf you out in your garden, but take my word on this one, an experience in a dirty Asian toilet will remain in your memory forever.

I was around about 10 years old, young and naïve and literally took every single word from my parents to my heart. At a certain point of your life, your parents seem to be Superman and Wonder Woman; they can do nothing wrong. You cling on their words like ants attracted to honey spilt on the kitchen floor. It is only until one day you realize that they were only human after all. That day for me happened on a beautiful fine Saturday afternoon in a food court in a shopping mall.

They had just finished building the latest shopping mall at that time (somewhere in 1996). They named it One Stop. It had countless number of shops selling clothes and other fashion items. It would be the home to many pirated VCD and computer CD stores which would be packed with people every weekend. There was also a huge arcade on the top floor and a roller-blading ring where teenage love bugs would hold hands and skate around. It even boasted an open air water theme park on the top of the building. And just like any other shopping mall there was a huge food court.

Just like every typical Malaysian, a Penangite spends his weekends at the latest or trendiest shopping mall. It is basically our national past time; that and stuffing ourselves with food. Don’t believe in all those lies in those Malaysian tourism board advertisements which shows Malaysian kids running around flying kites in paddy fields. That’s a lie. We seem to have ourselves believing that walking around in shopping malls is our 4 hour exercise for the week. It doesn’t matter that we are not out in the sun basking it its glorious sunshine, we are more than satisfied to do our weekly exercise amongst other shopping mall dwellers wearing sandals in air conditioned malls where we don’t even have to break a sweat. That is the true Malaysian life for most of us.

When you take into account the favourite two pastimes of an average Penangite, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a shopping mall food court is a brilliant idea. It is bound to be a money maker as it would be packed with loads of people. In fact I am pretty sure that owners of food courts drive big beamers and mercs strutting along with their gold chains hanging around their necks and picking his nose while he drives to his favourite hawker store.

One Stop’s food court was no different from any other shopping mall food court. They had numerous varieties of food and one would be spoilt for choice with the abundance of options one could choose what food to indulge in for their fill. From Penang’s very own Char Koay Teow to Fish and Chips, this food court had it all and it would be in this food court that my Dad decided to take a little wee boy out for lunch on a lovely Saturday afternoon.

As expected the food court was packed with families doing their weekly grocery shopping and lovers staring into each other’s eyes sipping on one ringgit coke.  I cannot recall what I actually ordered for lunch that day, but it must have been either some western cuisine or some mamak roti chanai but whatever I had it brought me the worse discomfort and unbearable pain to my gut. Sitting on my seat, I started squirming like Elton John had his hand in my pants. Piles of sweat started dripping from my forehead.

You see, I had lived long enough in Penang to understand how nasty local toilets could be and if possible visiting the loo outside the comfort of my very own home was not what I envied. Even though One Stop was considered fairly new at that point of time, I was told that I could never ever trust a Malaysian toilet and I was determined to bear with the gut wretching pain I was experiencing.

However, when your stomach starts to feel funny and the living bacterium in your stomach decides that it’s time to act up and mess around with you, you are practically screwed.

My dad noticed my piles of sweat dripping and soaking the table and asked,

“Boy, is there anything wrong?”

“…..Er I have got a little stomach ache, BUT it’s ok. I will just wait it out until we reach home,” I replied.

“Don’t be silly boy. There is a perfectly clean toilet just around the corner just outside the food court. Go quickly!” Dad insisted.

“Are you sure they have toilet paper or tissue?” I queried as I wriggled around in pain.

“Of course. Go go go. What do you want to do? Shit in your pants? Now hurry. The toilet is just outside of the food court to your left,” he ordered. “I am not going to take you home in my car with your pants smelling of shit”

“Are you sure they have toilet paper and the toilet is clean?? I mean I can just wait…” I sputtered.

My dad abruptly cut me off and said “What’s the matter with you boy? Don’t you trust me? I said it is clean and there will be toilet paper. Now go!”

Hearing those words, I took off. No, cut that out, I RAN.

Trying to control my bowels I quickly dashed out of the food court holding my stomach looking for the toilet. In my excitement/agony, I had missed the nearest toilet which was just situated outside the food court on the left. Instead, I ran a good 100 meters further to the main public toilet in the shopping mall. This, I would later find out would be a big mistake.

As I burst in the toilet, I kicked one of the toilet stall doors opened and released my bowels. Ahhhhh, they say heaven is in a place up in the sky but I could have sworn that being able to finally take a dump when your stomach is in such agony is as close as one can get to heaven on earth.

After finishing my business, it was time for me to wash up so I turned my head to grab some toilet paper from the toilet paper holder. I glanced at the holder, it was empty.

“Oh no, this could not be happening to me” I thought to myself.

I quickly turned behind hoping that there would be a toilet roll behind the toilet seat situated on top of the flush. There would be no such luck.

I stood up from my seat and searched frantically around in the toilet stall for a toilet roll or anything decent that I could wipe my ass with.  Heck, I would have even wiped my arse with rough exercise book paper if it was there.

Then suddenly I looked down and there I saw it.

“It” would be a long dirty pipe on the floor which was attached to a tap. The toilet floor was wet as the previous user of the toilet stall did not shut off the water and water was trickling from the tap. The pipe had foot marks signaling that it was step and trampled upon. It looked utterly disgusting.

For those of you that are not familiar with Malaysian toilet etiquette, Malays and Indians in general do not use toilet paper to wipe their ass once they have taken a dump. What they do is they take of their pants and use the water from the pipe to wash their ass. That is why most Malaysian toilets are wet, dirty and filthy. They insist their way is cleaner, but I seriously doubt that it is when you are in a public toilet.

There was no way I was going to use the pipe to wash my ass. Hundreds of people must have already stuck up the pipe up their ass to wash themselves. Just the thought of shit particles being washed with that pipe just made me want to puke. I could imagine that the previous person’s shit must have still been stuck on the pipe and the fact that it was trampled on and looked filthy as a pig sty, touching that thing was a big NO. Only Paris Hilton would be filthier than that.

So what did I do? Did I give into fate and learn how to be a Malaysian and use the long dirty pipe? Never.

Ingeniously, I took off my boxers, wiped my ass clean with it and threw it down the toilet bowl and flushed the toilet. As the toilet clogged up, I quickly made my way out of the toilet started to flood with shitty water. I uttered a few expletives and made my way back to the food court.

My Dad who was waiting for me at the food court smiled and asked,

“See, that wasn’t too bad after all huh?”

I glared at him.

“What’s the matter son? Don’t be rude and stop staring at me,” he said.

I sighed, took a sip of my drink and then I told him the whole story.

After finishing, my Dad became silent for awhile with a funny look on his face. I was still glaring at him furiously.

He then cracked a smile and asked,

“Wait, did you just tell me that you used the toilet in the shopping mall?”

“Yes,” I replied. “And there was no toilet paper in the toilet. YOU LIED!”

Upon hearing these words, my Dad burst out laughing.

“Haha. Son, there is a toilet just situated outside of the food court. There is an Indian lady sitting outside selling tissue paper which you could have bought it for 20sen! Why you silly little boy you,”

I slowly turned my head and there I saw the toilet which in my state of panic I had ran straight passed. There was this fat Indian lady who was sitting in front selling tissue paper just like my Dad had said. Gasped with disbelief, I felt my jaw had dropped to the ground.  I still swear up until today that she gave me a sly smile as if she knew what I have done.

My Dad burst into another fit of laughter and got up from his seat.

“Haha. Come on boy!” my Dad mentioned. “Let’s take you back so that you can wash up. I cant believe you wiped your ass with….”

I tuned off after that. I couldn’t be bothered with my Dad’s laughter or his comments. I was embarrassed. I had just clogged up and flooded a toilet and I was boxer-less and walking around in a public place without them made me feel exposed. I slowly got up from my seat and followed my Dad home.

From that day onwards I learnt that my Dad wasn’t so pure and angelic after all. It meant that parents can never be trusted.  Yes, I understand that it was most probably a miscommunication between myself and my Dad and I was probably in too much discomfort to actually notice there was a toilet just outside of the food court, but I think it was this incident that made me realize that my Dad was no superman.

But what’s more important was that I had learnt something very important about Malaysian toilets.

It can never be trusted.

So, be prepared white folks. Bring plenty of tissue paper if you do happen to visit Penang or Malaysia. You may never know when you will stare down on the ground and see a long dirty pipe in the toilet one day.