“When it comes to love, I may be a card-carrying cynic, but there’s an argument to be made that beneath every cynic, there’s a frustrated romantic.”

April 27th 2009, a monumental day in the love story between me and the first girl (of any significance) to ever appear on this magnificent blog. Today, Miss Y finally uttered her first word to me. And no, it was not the three words, eight letters, though I very much would like it to be.

It was a quarter passed eight on a humid Monday morning and we met at the door of the lecture hall. She was outside pulling the door open while I was pushing through from the inside, and we sort of stepped into each other. Then there was this moment where my heart skipped a bit as I looked up and saw that it was the her, the rainbow which always appears most unexpectedly. She quietly muttered a ‘sorry’ in that deep, sensual voice of hers (the last time I heard her voice was when she presented some sh*t during our sociology class last year). I was at a loss of words while marvelling at her beauty and I did the most ungentlemanly thing-I actually walked through the door first with her holding it opened for me. Okay, those of you who know me, I always hold the door for you ladies, but this time round, I was just not myself and I attributed it to the nausea I was feeling due to the fact that my brain was deprived of oxygen because of the beat my heart skipped when my eyes met hers.

So, I headed straight for the toilet and spent a good five minutes sitting on the toilet bowl slapping myself- there went my first impression! What the f*ck, seriously, GuangHui, what the f*ck were you thinking? Anyway, I spent the next three hours of our marketing lecture ogling at her. There is just something about Miss Y, her zero makeup, no fuss, low-maintenance appearance always draws me to her. You know, certain girls who do not enjoy the attention and not make the effort to dress up like a whore when going to school and instead, just let their natural beauty shine through? Yes, Miss Y is that type of girl, and simply my type of girl.

Well, wouldn’t it be sweet if fifty years from now, we are both at some nursing home, she is down with dementia and I am reading a book to her. Then, holding her hands, I look into her eyes and say, “Darling, do you remember that the very first word you said to me was ‘sorry’?”. A scene from The Notebook springs to mind, but that is just me.

You know if I am Noah, you will always be my Allie.

So, as you all know by now, Operation ABJ (American Blow Job) is back on track after my deferment was approved (on the second attempt) thanks to some great work from Best Agent Ever (formerly known as one half of the E sisters). A brief lowdown on Best Agent Ever- she is the one I am paying $1,800 to for my stint in America, a driven little girl who works hard for what she wants, watches Ugly Betty religiously, can take my jokes in her stride, totally adores Cristiano Ronaldo and is a good friend of Nala. Rumour has it that she drives a SLK 350, but given she pockets close to two grand every time she puts a student on a plane to the Big Apple, I am surprised it is even a rumour at all. Anyway, we seem to get along pretty well after an initial hiccup, and I have to say it takes two hands to clap.

I will be flying off on 29th May and will only be back 20th September, one day before school resumes. So there go my holidays, spent serving snobbish socialites in some grand country club in New York. According to Best Agent Ever, I will be working with two fellow SIM students who are going over with their respective girlfriends. Well, the slight difference between those two dumbf*cks and me is that I have a brain- they will be bringing their girlfriends over, but me, I will be meeting my (American) girlfriend(s) over there. Anyway, I am not too excited at the prospect of sleeping in the same room with two guys from my school for the next three and a half months.

You guys know how many friends I have in school (not many) and how many in my school are waiting to stab me in the back with a knife Indonesian-undergraduate-style (infinite). Call it jealousy, call it spite, I just do not quite understand why I am always stared and ogled at by my fellow male and female undergraduates respectively. Maybe it is the long hair, my height, my bulging biceps, my nine-inch dick or just simply my Ah Beng face. Whatever the case, it is so not my fault. If there is one thing I learnt from Cristiano, it is that at the end of the day, you cannot always please everyone- some girls have to be left unsatisfied.

This has always been me- I have never felt a need to please anybody. As long as I am happy with whatever I am going to do, I will go ahead and do it. And I am one who is not afraid of loneliness as well- that is why I am going to New York alone, even though when Shrek and Nala backed out, I had the option of following suit but if getting blown by a blonde is what I want, then I will stop at nothing to achieve it. It works the same way with my friendships as well- I can be very accommodating to my friends, but it takes to hands to clap and if one day I discover they are simply not worth the trouble, then as the cliché goes, they would not even command a place in my recycle bin. Let us just put it this way- Nala is not the first, and he will definitely not be the last. To be honest, there were points in my friendship with Ayu and Shrek where I almost walked away, and I had walked away from Tigress and JT before.

Well, after a period of time, they made their apologies and we made peace- I do not like to bear grudges, I just prefer to remember those who are worth it and those who are not. And may I add that girls (i.e. female friends) are generally much better at kissing and making up, and I feel it is in no small part due to their ability to put aside their ego and utter the word ‘sorry’. I do not hate anyone per se, because I find it rather tiring to hate people, but when I choose to give you a cold shoulder, you can be sure you will feel the coldness a mile away.

Speaking of the two beautiful ladies, they are going to be a part of Operation ABJ too. JT will be doing the planning for me (since she has been to NY before and is the only one willing to spare some time to help me), and I am eternally grateful for her efforts, provided her directions do not lead me straight into a brick wall. In return, I offered to masturbate onto the door of her ex’s apartment (in New York) but after much deliberating, she declined my generous proposition on ethical grounds. As for Tigress, she will be having breakfast with me in Queens after I rejected her initial offer of joining the Mile High Club together on our flight to JFK due to the fact that I am not one to do a Chuck/Nate and sleep with my best friend’s ex (at least not yet).

So, the stage is set. Everything is coming together now, Operation ABJ is being taken care of, seeing Nameless is my daily dose of steroids to spur me on to greater heights and the quality of my studying time is gradually picking up. I can almost see the finishing line and I am in great form at the moment, peaking at just the right time. All that lies ahead is the examinations.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man.

You know you can bring it on.

Studying is sucking the very life out of me. It is f*cking boring, but like I have said, sometimes in life we do not get to choose the things we want to do, do we? So, my only eye candy in the student lounge has migrated to the library (and I am sure it has nothing to do with the intensity of my eyeball raping). With that I am referring to the girl I have yet to give a nickname to, so let us just simply call her Nameless, though I have to say she does look like a Karen or a Katherine, but then again, if we were to let looks dictate our names I would most probably be a Robert. Speaking of which, does the ball-throwing, flag-punching Manchester United number 10 look anything but like a Wayne?

Back to Nameless. I have not seen her for a while, the other day while I was the library borrowing a couple of textbooks, I looked to my right as I was leaving (for no apparent reason other than what I term ‘the work of Cupid’) and there she was, eyeball raping me from one of the hundreds desks in the library. Seriously, what are the odds of me spotting her out of so many students in the library? And what are the odds of our eyes meeting at precisely the exact same moment? If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.

Subsequently, whenever I made my daily trip to the library (no, I am not stalking her, it is just that the textbooks I borrowed needs to be returned within thirty-six hours and yes, I know, what the f*ck), I would make it a point to walk pass and steal a couple of glances at her- that would constitute the best part of my day (yes, that is how f*cking boring studying in school is). I observed that every day for the past week, she has been sitting at the exact same spot without fail, mugging away. Plus she is a morning person (like yours truly over here) as she would be there by nine and leaves only when the library closes twelve hours later- a determined and driven girl she is, and exactly my type of girl. So, she has the character to go with the looks, a rarity these days if you ask me.

I told Lta Tan about this and he made a rather interesting point. I was telling him that to me, looks are secondary, so long as her face does not look like it had an accident with an A380 and she does not weigh more than I can bench-press (which would be a undistinguished 52.5 kilograms, for your information), it would do just fine. Well, what really intrigues an Aquarian like me is the personality of the girl in question, and how long the intrigue can last. However, Lta Tan remarked that if Nameless wasn’t attractive enough to capture my attention in the first place, would I have paid any notice to her and in turn would I even have found out about her diligent nature? He hit the bloody nail on the head, I would say.

And then there is Tattoo Girl. Initially, it was the looks, but the more I got to know her, the more my attraction to her faded. So, yes, I would say looks do play a part, but in the long run, the character must match the looks in order for any sparks to grow into a fire. To sum it up, I would say physical attraction is like the foreplay, the Charity Shield, while the real sh*t is the actual intercourse itself, the thirty-eight games of the EPL season- you cannot just look the part on paper, you got to play like you can actually win it.

You know not everything is skin-deep.

A couple of days back, the University of London convocation for the class of 2008 was held in school. There were a couple of familiar faces, but seeing all of them with their mortarboards and everything had given renewed impetus in my studies. When the day I graduate comes, I want to look myself in the mirror and say I have seriously tried my f*cking best. No matter the classification of my degree, the most important thing is I have given all I have to give and I held nothing back.

Why was my impetus ‘renewed’? See, I have been losing my way a little bit lately, not so much the quantity of time spent studying, but rather, the quality of time. My progress has been rather slow, and it is gradually becoming a race against time, a race I am afraid I would lose with each passing day. Seeing my friends doing things like playing one of the million games available on Facebook or going out for a movie, I really do wish I could join them. But deep down, I want to study because I know I am running out of time, and because I have a plan, a plan which will ultimately determines my degree. In order for my plan to succeed, I have to ace at least one of my modules this year and pass my business management (the one I failed next year).

I keep telling myself, I have had my share of fun last year, so this time round, I got to work doubly hard to make up for lost time and past mistakes. It has been getting exceedingly stressful with each passing day, but it is not so much the pressure. In fact, I am one who thrives on pressure, you know, the expectations people put on me spur me on. I love challenges and making others eat their words is my favourite past time. Plus I have everything now, even my dad has given me his car for my daily commute to school, my mum presses my clothes, so all I have to do (besides giving a few hours of tuition each week) is simply to study, and study I will.

So, it is getting kind of stressful because I have been having an overdose of books recently. A couple of nights back, I lie in bed at twelve and I could not f*cking sleep. All I could think of was the countless theories and explanations from the management textbook I have been studying for the past week. At that point, I knew I had reached my limit, and so last night, I decided to take it easy a little and joined Ong Bak, Es, Ben the Man and XP at Holland V to watch the match between The Gooners and Chelski. I was in bed only at three in the morning (that’s a first in a long, long time) and today, I decided not to go to school for a change. I slept till eleven and had lunch with my sisters before logging onto the internet to check out my friend’s blogs and catching up on some newspaper reading. I only touched my management book after dinner (another first).

And I feel so much better now. Well, certain things we need to try before we know how much we can take, no? Just like the decision to let Lehman Brothers fail, just like my decision to leave certain girls. Then again, not everything in life has the benefit of hindsight. Perhaps my decision not to borrow that stapler from that ‘nameless’ chick (I have been eyeball raping in the student lounge the past fortnight) will come back to haunt me in the future. I can already picture in my head me driving by a church one day (in my 370z) and seeing her standing outside in her wedding gown. At the moment our eyes met, a million what ifs flashed through our minds.

 You know we all wish to take a look into the crystal ball.

Usually when I blog, my entry has a purpose, a certain point of view I would like to put across to you guys. But tonight is different, I just felt like blogging randomly with nothing particular in mind. It is not that I have nothing specific to talk about- I mean, if I choose to, I could blog about the insecure girl (whose inferiority complex I exposed) who in turn is taking it out on my blog by commenting sh*t and hoping to piss me off but to no avail. You know me, I do not pay attention to what people of no significance in my life say of me, because if I do, then perhaps I am the one who is feeling inferior and having to please every single c*nt. Anyway, I could also blog about the greatness of my new club- Liverpool FC. I know, you guys are totally shell-shocked, but hey, if you cannot beat them, join them. The day they thrashed the greatest team on earth Manchester United 4-1 was the day I was reborn, so officially, like Ben the Man, I am a Red from womb to tomb. You’ll never wank walk alone!

I do not know why, but I am kind of moody tonight, and perhaps it is because I am missing the chick I have been visually raping in the student lounge. You know what? I actually f*cking dreamt of her just the other night. I think I have this amazing ability to dream of whomever I want. So tonight, it will be Megan Fox, naked. Well, perhaps I am moody because of an overdose of books- I still spend a minimum of eight hours a day studying, but somehow, the quality of the eight hours seems to be deteriorating with each passing day (think: decreasing marginal utility). I need a break, but not now, and perhaps not in America anymore.

See, despite the best efforts of the E sisters, my deferment for my ICT (in July) was unsuccessful. Pending an appeal, I would most probably not be getting the American blowjob I so desperately long for. But I am not overly upset or anything, I mean, I am no pessimist, but I prefer to take things in my stride. Looking on the bright side, I could save myself a couple of grand, get an intern job (to help with my resume and sh*t), spend some time with my friends and family, masturbate while watching the his Majesty Lee Hsien Loong deliver the National Day Rally and spend Teacher’s Day back at my primary school playing basketball with them ten-year-olds.

Then again, looking on the not so bright side, I am going to miss out on so much if I really cannot go. The American blowjob notwithstanding, I already have this plan, you know, to just grab a book and head down to the coffee place at the corner of 54th and 3rd and spend the whole day there alone reading, smelling the coffee and watching life pass me by. You know, the feeling of being by yourself in an unfamiliar place where no one knows you, you have all the time in the world to do whatever you want? I really miss this feeling, and the last time I felt this way was during my off-days while in Brunei. But alas, the things we want to do (going to the States) and the things we need to do (going for reservist).

You know you cannot always get what you want.

Like Adriano, I no longer derive any joy from playing the game.

Until I learn to curb my inner demons, I will not be anywhere near a football.

It has been a pretty interesting weekend for me. First up, I owe Ong Bak an apology. See, we were playing soccer at FICO on Monday night (first time this year) and I f*cked it up by getting into a row (note: row, not fight) with one of Ong Bak’s friend’s friend. Well, I guess that would be the first and last time I will be playing soccer with that bunch of pussies. They kicked the sh*t out of me, but having a vagina between their legs, they could not take as good as they give, and that totally made me lost it and engaged in my customary Wayne Rooney moment of madness. Okay, I was provoked, but still, I should have ‘given face’ to Ong Bak and kept my cool. I mean, I am twenty-four already, been playing the game for half my life, and yet I cannot keep it together when it comes to a simple game of soccer. My friends are already terming it a ‘same sh*t, different day’ when it comes to me having a fight while playing soccer, and I guess at the rate I am going, I will be left with no one to play soccer with in no time.

To say that I was disappointed in myself would be a major understatement- if there was a referee I would definitely have been sent off and if there was a corner flag I would most probably have thrown a couple of punches at it while making my way to the tunnel. But I am who I am, you take the passion away, I am a lesser player (soccer player, not the other one). I am extremely driven with it comes to the sh*t I do, and I always give my everything in all I choose to do. That is a part of me which can never be removed, and that is what makes me different from most people- I am willing to sacrifice everything and anything to achieve my goals.

This brings me to my impending work and travel stint in American. I do not blame my coordinators at the agency (the E sisters), I mean, given my looks and everything, they kind of have doubts about my ability to fulfil my work commitment. I do agree with them, but then again, like the old cliché goes, never judge a book by its cover. But in a way, it is good for me as it lowers people’s expectations of me, and when I get sh*t done, they would be like f*cking surprised, like having seen the second coming of Christ or something. I remember there was this one time, Janice was six months pregnant and no doctor with a sound mind wanted to do the abortion on her, but never once did I contemplate giving up. At the advice of Ben The Man, I drove her all the way to JB, stuffed some ringgit into the pocket of some village doctor and viola, it was game, set and match- that is the reason why I will not be celebrating the upcoming Father’s Day.

Such playerish talk reminds me of the sh*t that happened over the weekend with Ong Bak. Honestly, he is from another totally different level from me now. I do not wish to disclose much, but it goes along the lines of having some other guy raise your kid, if you know what I mean. Plus I exchanged a couple of messages with Es over the weekend, and her “I feel assured my bf is studying with you” totally, f*ckingly overwhelmed me with guilt. Seeing Es happy with her artificial bliss, I feel I should just lie for her sake just to keep things the way they are now. If you call this a white lie, then this would be the hardest white lie I ever have to tell.

You know not every girl will have her happy ending.

Given the vast amount of time I have been spending in the school’s student lounge, together with my inborn gift of foresight for spotting attractive specimen of the opposite sex, you guys know it is only a matter of time before I would introduce a new girl onto my blog. But like HL, I have simply ran out of creative nicknames for them beautiful ladies. Anyway, it was nothing serious, we were sitting across each other couple of times while studying in the student lounge and we like visually raping each other for half a dozen hours or so. But she is nothing special really- big eyes, long hair, CFM face, you know, the usual lot. Let us give it a couple of weeks and see if the pattern repeats itself.

I had the same marketing class as Tattoo Girl (planned) and Miss Y (unplanned) last week. That was the first time ever any two parties of the Big Three has been in the vicinity of each other and God, it was like choosing between Angelina Jolie and Megan Fox, like choosing between which nipples you want to lick first. If I term Tattoo Girl a merry-go-round which gets me nowhere, Miss Y would be like the alluring rainbow which brightens up my day whenever she unexpectedly appears. In totally unrelated news, Tattoo Girl just told me her 20th birthday is round the corner (yes, I know, I am a paedophile) and I am pondering what to get her. Perhaps a sheer thong will do- I am sure Tigress can give me some recommendations from her mammoth collection.

Oh, did I tell you the cashier at Maju Camp E-Mart was one f*cking chio bu? Kind of Ah Lian, but totally my type, waiting to be rescued from the hellhole that is a military camp, getting visually raped unwillingly by horny soldiers on a daily basis seriously cannot be good for the soul. Well, this kind of reminded me of Monica Bellucci’s Malèna- one beautiful Italian masterpiece I tell you. Speaking of older women, did I tell you my recent study buddies have been office ladies doing part-time degrees? Yeah, getting to know them older women gave me an insight into their thinking and mindset.

And boy, ladies on the wrong side of thirty do have serious insecurity issues. I mean, I do not blame them, like Glenn said, guys can be ugly, as long as they are successful it will even things out. But ladies, it does not quite work the same way. Looks is everything, and from thirty onwards, their appearances start to suffer from what I term ‘decreasing return to scale’. On the other hand we guys, as we age our looks do not go down the drain as much, we climb the corporate ladder, our spending power increases exponentially and we are the opposite, an ‘increasing return to scale’.

Anyway, I just realised that I enjoy preying on other’s insecurities- it is not like I insult their age or looks or anything, it is just that I enjoy filling their heads with self-doubt. Perhaps it is a form of fascination to me, because I have never known what it is like to have self-doubt. Yes, my confidence, like my blog, borders on conceit- if any one of you weaker creatures with major inferiority complex issues have trouble relating, then please refrain from reading sh*t you know you cannot handle.

You know you can never have my confidence.

#Working out in school was rather refreshing- first time in my life I walked into an empty gym and my dick continued to be alone for the next two hours of my workout. It felt…liberating.

#Studying in school is so much better than studying at McDonald’s- the former is simply a pussy-fest. It serves to remind me that there really are a lot of pretty girls around.

#Bukit Batok McDonald’s, on the other hand, is a sh*thole. Frequented only by grandmothers and anyone with a dick, it is the perfect location to do some serious studying, but alas, you know what all work and no play turned Jack into.

#Shrek and XP got along really well during our study session the other day. There is a saying that goes ‘deluded birds love to f*ck together’ or something. I sense a bro-mance brewing- watch this space.

#One study session with the boys later, Lta Tan concluded that I am undoubtedly the leader of the rat pack. I beg to differ- I no longer organise and lead my boys in the Ladies’ Night Pussy Quest every Wednesday evening, and the only event I organise these days is the daily ten-to-ten study marathon in school for the Bookworm Club.

#I do not understand why Nala’s friends are asking me about his whereabouts. What, do I look like his mum? It is like Ronaldo asking Danny Murphy why Rooney got sent off. In totally unrelated news, I just emptied my recycle bin- do not ask me who was in it.

#It has recently come to my understanding that the weaker fairer sex actually enjoy reading my blog, especially the entry on my dream of Tattoo Girl. I know a lot of you ladies secretly wished the girl was you, but sad to say, it is but a dream for you and for me.

#The Malay c*nt at Queensway’s Weston is seriously one rude son of a b*tch. I mean, I spent one hundred and forty bucks in your bloody shop, the least I can expect was some manners. But no, the c*nt has to give me a f*ck face and everything. I know I was wearing a United tee and you were in your toilet paper jersey which says Gerrard on the back, but at the end of the day, business is business, so where the f*ck did your courtesy go?

#Ong Bak not only makes girls cry, he makes guys cry as well- he has reached the pinnacle of player-ism. In other news, Les and Ong Bak have become like Billy Gallas and Kolo Toure. Go figure.

#Got myself a new bike yesterday, and it was kind of like having a new (virginal) girlfriend- feel powerful when riding her yet at the same time, secretly fear her being stolen by some piece of sh*t.

#My weight has stagnated at seventy-five kilograms for the past three months. My preferred weight would be slightly above eighty, but no matter how much I eat lately, I am not putting on an ounce. Anyway, with my seventy-five kilogram frame, I do feel kind of heavy at times. I was playing soccer over the weekend and I sprinted for a through pass. F*ck me, but the first few steps took an eternity and I felt I had totally lost my acceleration like Les, the only difference was Les has felt this way for the last decade while I only felt it recently. But still, not a good feeling. Perhaps I should pick up bowling like President Obama, although my score would make some athletes from the Special Olympics proud.

#Totally dread parking my dad’s big-ass car. Of all the cars in the world, he has to pick this one. F*ck.

#Will be spending all seven days of this week in school- I would like to see how much more my brain can take before it ‘hangs’. Anyway, any of you ladies (only ladies) keen on studying together do drop me a line.

#I have never prepared so hard for an examination since my PSLE. A repeat of the same results would do fine, thank you very much.