lost

"Where do we go, where do we go now..."

Good question, can't think of a good answer.

But less time spent contemplating the answer is definitely a good thing.

Drink, drink, drink and be ill tonight, remember? And tomorrow night and the night after that, and after that and after that and ...

Watched Angels & Demons over the weekend; it's definitely better than The Da Vinci Code. As is the protagonist's hairdo.

Rome is truly a remarkable city, if you haven't already noticed already. Simply amazing. That's one place that's a given on my bucket list. And maybe watch a Roman derby. Who knows eh?

Rotten Rambutans: Race to Witch Mountain

So where were the witches, somebody asked. Rhetorically, I presume.

All in all, I'd say the Race makes good family viewing, a flick parents would bring their 2.5 children to. The RM12 price tag was exorbitant, for me at least. Yeah yeah, it overtook Watchmen as the number one box office flick of March, but it still is, essentially, a kiddie show. The Rock is the Rock, though it's quite apparent the movie tries to stay as far away as possible from Dwayne Johnson's wrestling persona. So no trademark raised eyebrow, no mention of the kitchen, and definitely no People's Elbow.

All things considered, one can't have too many issues with this Disney fare. It's clean, kid-oriented and funny in a cheesy way. Compared to The Game Plan, however, it comes up rather short. I'm not sure why; perhaps The Rock tried less to not be The Rock in the earlier movie. In the Race, the restrain appears noticeably contrived.

I reckon my main peeve isn't so much with the movie than some of the people watching the movie. I mean, for fuckssakes, there's a reason for the term 'showtime'; it means the show starts then. Having bloody morons waddling in ten minutes into the movie is oh-so blood boiling. More so when their seats are right in the middle of the row. And you know they're not late due to some urgent matters cause they'll be well supplied with popcorn, drinks and 'outside' food explicitly prohibited by the cinema management. And the temerity to look indignant when given the 'death stare' or told off politely. Such martyrs they become.

Inconsiderate idiots, and that's being restrained.

theatre of delusions

Watching MU getting their asses whipped in their own backyard was incredibly satisfying. Not because I support the Kopites (gasp!). It's been a long time coming, this shattering of the arrogance emanated by the Mancunians and their fans. Never hurts to get a dose of reality before one becomes too inflated with delusions of grandeur. Of course, excuses are flying thick and fast, most bordering on the ludicrous. Who cares, to be honest, when the end result is still the same.

Speaking of same results, I caught Valkyrie last week, and it was good. Yeah, I know there are plenty of people who dislike Tom Cruise for a myriad reasons, but if one can transcend past the dislike, then the movie is worth a viewing. There's a fine balance between dialogue, suspense, drama and action. It's not as gripping and dark as Downfall, but it's nowhere near being a flop, despite most people's damning verdict. I mean, do we actually take reviewers seriously, especially Malaysian ones? Failed film students they are, as someone once pointed out, and I tend to agree.

And to sign off today's post, here's a joke. Where imbeciles rule, idiots will follow. Taken from one of the gov's favourite lackeys, The Star.

Kuala Lumpur, National Union of Journalists president Norila Mohd Daud said the media had the right to publish what they felt about leaders, especially in their columns.

“That is what we call press freedom. The Chief Minister is a leader and naturally people would want to watch and follow his policies and moves.

“Even the Opposition has been asking for press freedom. Newspapers do not report on negative issues only,” she said.

Question: Is the woman

A. oblivious? or

B. delusional?

C. both of the above?

Where do these moronic, crap-talking fuckwits come from?

turbo boost and leather jackets

What's this I hear, a modern, souped up Knight Rider is about to hit the TV channels?

Apparently there was a KR made-for-TV movie sometime last week. And based on those who watched it, KITT should have really rolled on towards the sunset and not reversed. It's quite sad to watch 80's cultural icons being rehashed and revamped to suit modern tastes. I reckon series' like KR, A-Team, Airwolf and such should be preserved as some sort of national heritage, and never be repackaged. In fact series' shouldn't be allowed to be made into movies. The most obvious flop to bomb out is Miami Vice. That's one flick that should be retitled 'How to Keep Moustaches and Goatees'.

I've no issues when it comes to cartoons, though. Who wouldn't want to watch their childhood heroes come to life. Think Transformers. Yet even then, fuck-ups do happen. Here's something to jog your memory: He-Man, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and Dungeons & Dragons (a major source of consternation on my part).

Hmm, so what would I like to see brought to life? The list is long, I can say that. Off the top of my head:

Robotech
Jem and The Holograms (don't ask)
My Little Pony (I said don't ask)
Visionaries
Thundercats
Samurai X (okay, I'm allowed one anime)
Johnny Quest
Voltron

Like I said, it's quite long.

Rotten Rambutans: Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam II

I was going to say, the only thing good about this sequel is the lead actress. I was going to. But I couldn't. The movie is just too disjointed, far-fetched and farcical to be saved by a gorgeous face. I reckon there was a major brain fade when number two was being thought up. How else can one explain the down-the-well slide this sequel experiences, when episode one was a high-flyer? Such a disappointment, and the fact that I sacrificed valuable snooze time to catch this it makes things even more wtf-inducing.

First clanger, a nonsensical usage of flashbacks. The first twenty minutes or so can be classified as - present, flashback 1958, flashback 1960s, flashback 1970s, flashback prior to present, flashback to periods unknown, flashback to present. The movie just kept flashing, I tell you. Then there's the not-so-plausible event occurrence. How on earth does Mr Ponty prepare to leave the village which currently houses his infant child and his deceased wife's best mate, without knowing of their presence there? Made more illogical considering best friend's father is some village wise man. And by the fact that assassins run into the afore-mentioned Mr Ponty, on the same day he's heading back to see his woman. Like they say in Malay, tak masuk akal (literally doesn't enter mind).

Next, the almost obsession-like fascination with Indonesian kampungs. How easy it appears to kidnap a child and hop over to Sumatera (or perhaps Riau islands) for a little bit of R&R. Besides the fact that the kampungs looks like they're stuck in a time warp, the disturbing apathy the villagers display towards our shouting and screaming protagonists (in the middle of town) is bemusing. Everyone looks like they were teleported from the Malacca Sultanate, without a sign of technological advancements such as TVs, phones or even radios. A really surreal village indeed.

Yet again, abuse of special effects and constipated wailing. More, in fact. Ponty rides a horse in one scene, flies in another, and walks in yet another. And after a while, the change in costume and appearance is thought-provoking. Why transform from a lovely maiden in kebaya (I think) to a hag with excess powder and Shinto-esque robes? There's no logical explanation here, and I doubt there ever will be. The rules of possession (one spirit, one body) is blatantly ignored, while the kungfu-like action is sadly misplaced.

A real pity, Ponty's fate. From a character sympathised by many, she becomes a banshee suffering from PMS, flying around without an inkling of what she wants in the afterlife. Well, she does want her child back, but not knowing who her child was is quite befuddling. Yet she accurately identifies the infant descended from her unwitting murderer. And to cap off a bad night out, this model Indonesian village, made up of cowardly busybodies, sits right smack on an earthquake fault line. The death toll from this devastating disaster is absolutely mind blowing - two. Both outsiders, mind you.

What's worse, if that were possible, is that this poor effort of a sequel is plagued by horrible editing. Scenes just keep getting cut off before one is able to absorb or even make sense of what's going on. A minor annoyance which festered into major irritation. Even with the lovely MK, PHSM 2 is beyond redemption. Which is a massive anticlimax. It barely deserves a 1.5/10; the 1.0 coming from the biased fact that I liked number one. Poor acting, stereotypical casting and predictable dialogue all conspire to ruin the movie; they're aided by a story with more holes than cheese.

The only engaging part of the movie centres around the kuda kepang, which provides an insight into this dance which blends folklore, animism and the supernatural.

One can only hope that ponty baby is finally enjoying the peace she craved for. And that part three doesn't haunt the silver screen.

Rotten Rambutans: Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam

First of all, I must state: if it weren't for a certain somebody acting in this movie, I would have never continued watching it in its entirety. I was spellbound, pun perhaps intended, the moment I saw the heroine (you-know-who). That is, before she became capable of putting people under her spell in an evil way.

But yeah, back to the point of this post. Sometimes, and definitely in this case, sequels throw away all the good work done in the first issue. Especially when it comes to horror flicks. One cringes at the list of shame - Blair Witch Project 2, Ghostbusters 2 onwards, The Ring 2, Hannibal, Halloween 2, The Hills Have Eyes 2; get the idea? Let the dead rest, and let the undead fade into the night, I say. I'll explain why, with regards to ponty baby, in my review of the sequel in the very near future.

Back to the Banshee, Scent of the Tuberose, or so I'm led to understand.
So, what's there to like about this movie, you may ask. Well, quite a bit, I say. Firstly, Maya Karin. Then there's the Ponty who's, wait a minute, Maya Karin as well. Okay, there's more. The plot, while not exactly original, is simple and not confusing (for now). Woman is wronged, woman seeks revenge, woman is avenged. However, along the story, the Ponty does elicit genuine sympathy for her plight; after all, when human, she had everything going for her, until some moron decided to trip her.

The setting, circa 1958, is quite plausible since most people were still living in kampungs and riding bicycles back then. Personally, the timeline shouldn't have jumped several decades at the latter stages. Modernity robs the storyline of its rustic eeriness. Yet, trust the movie makers to compensate by ridding the present of handphones, laptops, civilisation and the fact that there are 24 hour eateries littered across the country these days. Yeah, I know it's still Kampung Paku Laris (literally Hot-selling Nails Village), but come on lah.

Where were we? Ah, yes, PHSM suffers from a common malaise that plagues almost every big budget fare made in Bolehland. The abuse of special effects. Think Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon stunts, executed with lesser perfection. It becomes so obvious FX and CGI (see, I do have some tech sense) form an integral part of the haunting, as do wiring and harnesses. A pity, cause a pontianak walking along a path or perched up a tree creates enough fear by herself, without the need for a shimmering silhouette, and blood-red eyes. And the wailing is atrocious.

Okay, the positives. Like I said briefly earlier, the kampung setting adds to the atmosphere, a village ripe for the taking. I would have knocked back several more years off the timeline, but I guess nobody wanted to see the vestiges of Japanese rule. The display of culture and dance is to be commended, though over-emphasised at times. The acting from some of the established stars is good, but the others fail to ignite even the slightest reason to suggest they can act. Oh, a massive plus point for PHSM is the theme song; I simply had to have it on my playlist. The lyrics spell clearly the relationship between the primadonna-ponty and the villain of the piece; it's not as one-dimensional as it is on-screen.

To be fair, the respective characters of both protagonists are well developed. There's the woman in love, the wronged woman, the vengeful woman, the spurned suitor, the obsessive stalker, the jealous rival and the repentant villain. Quite a tapestry of emotions, well acted out.

All in all, I'd give PHSM a Rotten Rambutans rating of 5/10. Not quite the ultimate horror scare of the decade but highly watchable and more than slightly intriguing. Oh, and because you-know-who's in it (which should be worth at least 10 points).

drunken ox in a china shop

CNY has come, and gone. Ya ya, I know it lasts for 15 days, but for those who don't actually celebrate the festival, it's over.

Funny how future financial plans are always scheduled for after CNY, and not so much in tandem with the Gregorian New Year. Really, think about it. Whether it's finding a new job or starting a business endeavour, almost everyone seems to set post-CNY as the starting point for expected prosperity. I guess that's another indicator of how multi-cultural Malaysians are, despite the government's best efforts to polarise the different ethnicities.

Still with CNY musings, it's been one DVD after another for the past three or so days. I reckon I've watched more movies in 72 hours than most do in a year. The roll call: Slumdog Millionaire (bloody fantastic), Outlander (bloody crap), The Good Shepherd (quite engaging), Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam (bite me, please, ponty baby), Rec (freaky) and Prince Caspian (decent battle scenes). I would have watched more, but almost all the DVD shops (including my regular one) were closed. Next on my list: Valkyrie, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam 2, Puteri Gunung Ledang, Histeria (hattrick of Malay shows?), A Wednesday, Gran Torino and Changeling.

I'm so in love with someone from PHSM, I tell you.

Back to reality. Got a healthy dose of clubbing over the weekend. I've got to find an alternative to alcoholic beverages; one that doesn't screw up my digestive juices. Two Citrus Presses later, and I could feel the acid in my stomach swirling. Coke and Ginger Ale are way too sugary, I realised (finally?), while I definitely can't be sipping coffee throughout the night, can I? I'm thinking mocktails, but not every club serves them. And no, I won't be caught dead drinking a Bloody Mary or Shirley Temple. Bailey's, I don't mind. A Drinker's Dilemma.

The Battle of the Bulge resumes, for the twenty-second time. This time, it's six-pack or bust. Hmm, one unintended pun too many there.

neither here nor there

Cough. Cough. Cough.

That's all I've been doing since last Wednesday. And trying to catch hold of my running nose. The cigs haven't been helping, obviously, so I'm going on a drastic reduction programme, at least until I stop hurting my lungs with all the coughing and hacking and throat-clearing.

I have too, if I plan to enjoy the sea, sun and sand in a couple of weeks' time. And to soak in the alcohol and nicotine at a fraction of the usual price. On saying that, perhaps I should stick to a strict cig-rationing schedule when I'm there; sort of a test to gauge the feasibility and effectiveness of any potential quitting attempts. Yes, I think I'll do that. And stop adding Coke to my liquor mixtures. The things I have to do to live a couple of years longer...sigh.

On another note, I fully intent to change the layout and general feel of my (this) blog. I'm a bit bored with the aged paper, parchment appearance; I'm thinking something more contemporary, like Minima or Denim. Little less graphics, and a little more conversation. I'm also contemplating changing the blog title (not the http) to something else; something more personal and less cryptic. We'll see how it goes, it'll be work in progress for the next two weeks.

Off to a totally blond subject, I've got a new pair of shoes. It looks rather smart, and it's already affecting the way I walk - fearful of absolutely anything that may mar it's smooth surface and leathery scent. After what happened to my Hush Puppies, I think many will empathise with me on this one. There's already a stain on my other new pair, which is a source of considerable consternation. They sure as hell don't make leather shoes like they used to.

Due to the malfunctioning GSC website, I'm now the lucky holder of four reserved tickets for The Day the Earth Stood Still. For tonight. I'm torn between trumpeting the clarion for recruits, or indulging in the much scorned-upon act of solitaire movie-watching. Decisions, decisions. Then again, I'm not even sure I'm that much into science fiction to fork out close to twenty bucks tonight; have never really been a fan of X-Files, Star Trek or Matrix. Star Wars, I like, but that's because it contains high doses of fantasy in the fabric that makes up the galaxy far, far away. As does Dune.

I digress. Okie, 9 o'clock movie it is then. Just to show (albeit defiantly) that singlehood will not stop me from visiting the cinema. Onwards march!

Quantum of Solace, or so it seems

Martini, shaken not stirred.

No, you're not going to hear that line in the latest Bond flick, Quantum of Solace. Though I now know how his poison is concocted, thanks to an eager beaver bartender.

That, and the fact that 007's suits have improved tremendously since he first blazed his way across the silver screen. And I have to admit, Daniel Craig does do justice to his character's extensive wardrobe. Look out for the shoes especially.

The movie, now that I've stopped veering off, is so-so. In my opinion, that is. But that's more due to the fact that as I age (gracefully), I'm more attracted to movies where the hero actually gets beaten up once in a while. Realism is what I'm talking about. I think anyone still worshipping Bond's playboy-esque mannerism and sexual conquests has really got to take a look at the calendar once in a while. Gone are the days of Bond comes, Bond screws, Bond kills. And yeah, not a single bullet wound? Lucky lucky.

The action is good, though too fast-paced even for rapid-eye-movement abilities. Luckily the pace slows down with Olga Stillcantspellhername. Here, you look forward to John Woo's slow-mo effect, drinking in every sweet detail. Don't bank on her acting skills though, I think Ursula Andress was the last Bond girl to actually offer glimpses of acting.

On the other hand, credit must be given to Daniel Craig. He's managed to mould Bond to suit his persona. Connery was macho, Moore humourous, Dalton broody, and Brosnan suave. Lazenby was, well, Lazenby. Craig, as in Casino Royale, is all raw and psychotic. Which is a change from the usual 007 fare. Good or bad, time will tell. Evidence is, CR was a hit, and QoS looks to follow suit.

And the villains are finally 3-dimensional, thankfully. Anyone who professes Blofeld had substance should look the word up in the Oxford D. I find the villain to be more important than the hero in action movies, what with the glut in comic superheroes around town. Robert Carlyle was fabulous in The World is Not Enough, as was Sean 'Boromir ' Bean in Goldeneye. Craziest of all was undoubtedly Christopher Walken. Pure psycho power.

If you do watch Quantum of Solace in a cinema in Malaysia, look out for the translation of the movie title. 'Dunia Tenang dalam Kesengsaraan'??

Messrs Ti and Thum, please stand up.

Max Payne - somewhere in the lower regions

I'm still trying to figure if I liked Max Payne or not. The movie, that is.

Before I proceed, no, I'm not a failed film student.

And no, I'm not a film director wannabe.

So I don't have this malicious tendency prevalent among movie reviewers to show how silver screen-savvy I am, a tendency to savage anything that's isn't Tarantino or Kubrick or Allen-like. A staid bunch of verbal wankers, none more so than the pompous poof who writes for Star.

Okay, back to Max Payne. I've never played the computer game, so I couldn't care less if it stays religiously close to its origins. I mean, how many times have criticisms about the movie not staying true to the book/ game/ comic been flung around viciously as self-proclaimed aficionados sate the egotist in each and every one of them?

Yet again I digress. Well, there are two things that save this movie, one of them being the female protagonists. If this movie is anything to go by, Quantum of Solace is going to have to be renamed Quantum of Solust. Olga Whatshername is pretty damn awesome, while la chica from That 70's Show is more than delectable, albeit in some pseudo Gothic-Russian mafia-vampire-esque way. Think Kate Beckinsale in Underworld meets Kate Beckinsale in Van Helsing.

The other saving grace, I won't reveal. I don't want to spoil anyone's fun, so watch the movie and you'll definitely know what I'm talking about.

So that's that.

Personally, I categorise cinematic movies into three categories. I've yet to properly name these three categories, but when I do, it'll be on this blog. So yet another good excuse to visit me eh? Okay, like I was saying, three categories. Firstly, movies I feel were a bloody waste of my money. There are several of them, most noteworthy include Deep Blue Sea, Spice Girls The Movie, Portret Mistik and Mimpi Moon. Atrocious fares, with wooden acting and woodier scenes. After watching any movie in this category, you'd want to strangle the scoundrel who dared to suggest watching that particular movie.

Then there are movies I don't mind watching repeatedly, in the cinema. Two off the top of my head are Transformers and 300. For various reasons, watching these movies more than once is/was a pleasure. I can honestly say there have been many movies that have compelled me to watched them at least twice, and sometimes it can be due to something as simple as witty dialogue.

And finally, movies that I simply have to watch on DVD. One word: censorship. 30 Days of Night was one of them, as was Perfume. My loathing of any form of censorship is well known and well documented. There's nothing more irritating than watching a half-butchered movie. TG for the friendly neighbourhood pirate, I say. A film in its entirety, that's what you get every time you fork out the RM 9 or 10 for a pirated version. Seamless viewing, minus the botched attempts at bleeping out a 'fuck' or a boob.

So if one were to link the first half of this post with the latter half, I'd have to say I would prefer to get the pirated DVD of Max Payne.

Sorry, Max.

lampu, kamera, aksi (lights, camera, action)

There's something about Malay flicks that just makes you shake your head in wonder. The slapstick jokes, the toilet humour, the over-the-top acting. Only Heaven knows how lawak bodohs and shambolic acting have become the hallmark of local box office hits. It's just unfathomable. Are people out there really devoid of even the tiniest shred of cinematic intelligence that they happily part with RM10 and watch sub-par entertainment? It would seem so, judging by the list of movies deemed 'successful' over the past years. There's an obvious gulf between mainstream and indie fares. And the way things are, the former rakes in the money, the latter fights an arduous battle to enhance Malaysian cinema.

But back to my visits to the idiot box during Raya. I was compelled to watch (what with Silverpark not having Astro) Nana Tanjung and Man Laksa back-to-back, and I barely survived. Well, I shouldn't really use 'I', as the three of us did. By the end of it, we were busy tying to stem the loss of the grey matter that was slowing oozing out of the scalp pores during the movies. Utter rubbish. When one considers the country at one time produced cinema greats like P. Ramlee, Jins Shamsuddin and Saloma, what was shown on TV was pure heresy. The worst part is these half-witted movies have garnered millions of ringgit for the leading actors, who will not get free publicity on this blog. But yeah, thank goodness we managed to miss Otai.

And the local industry wonders why Indonesian movies are so popular. I was watching the trailer for Ayat Ayat Cinta, and it had me hooked. Yes, I'm aware the Indos tend to get carried away with the word 'cinta' - Love is Cinta being an example, which was followed closely by Ada Apa dengan Cinta. Yes, they're love stories. But that's where the similarities to local sappy ones end . Indo movies tend to be more character focused, involving plenty of emotions and drama. Local love movies tend to favour wooden acting, cliched scenes and laughter more suited to public toilets.

On saying that, one has to give credit where credit is due. There are local motion pictures which are of high standards; in fact, we tend to get at least a couple each year. The recent ones that come to mind are Sepet, Gubra, Mohsin (all directed by YA), as do Perempuan Isteri dan..., Cinta, Embun, Paloh and Remp-It (oddly enough). Oh, and special mention for Kala Malam Bulan Mengambang. A time machine that'll take you right back to the good ol' B&W days of Madu Tiga and Bujang Lapok, to name a few. It took me some time before I finally had the chance to catch it, and it was highly entertaining. The plot went chaotic after a while, which highlights the naivety of the writer and director. But the acting is solidly passable and the lines engaging. The setting, however, is fabulous. A blast from the past, or rather, to the past. Note that I haven't included any horror flicks on the roster; that'll take up an entire post, with more flops than flips.

And no, Gerak Khas and Mami Jarum are not silver screen classics.

so it's like this

I was quite surprised when I checked my blog, and realised my previous post was on the 11th. That's four days ago. Rather unusual, considering I leave posts every other day, on the average, weekends discounted. Well, it was some sort of a busy week, the week that was, and I didn't really have the time to cook up something interesting.

On saying that, the weekend was spent watching plenty of TV (again), and not much of anything else. Well, there was a freeflow I attended, which didn't really impress me. If there's one thing I dislike about beer (other than it being bitter) it's drinking beer in a plastic container. Yucks. Beer has to be with a chilled mug, no arguments. There's nothing more tummy-upsetting than watered down, warm beer in an environmentally-harming plastic cup. Couldn't really complain much though, it was somewhat of a neighbourhood cafe, not exactly located in a posh area.

Football swallowed a huge chunk of my Saturday night, while Sunday was spent lazily on the couch, soaking up as many movies as humanly possible. The Astronaut's Wife was gripping, The Untouchables was awesome, while Syaitan was plain stupefying. Why do local directors insist on using flashbacks and time distortment? More often than not, they end up confusing themselves, and more so the audience. If the opportunity arises, do watch Syaitan, and drop two cents here.

I'm getting the urge to see someone.

On another page, I've been inundated with queries on what I think will happen tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is apparently THE day. What gets to me is people who keep jabbering about 16 September without even knowing jack about politics. People who have never even registered to vote. People who chant the date like some mantra, hoping their wishes will be granted after the 1000th chant. Get a life, peoples. Seriously.

I suck at picking up girls in pubs. Like, wow. Honestly. I reckon it's time to change tactics. No, I feel compelled. On to plan B. What's plan B? Well, it's something that's not Plan A, which will make me feel better for having, since Plan A hasn't worked. I haven't worked out the finer details of Plan B, as in what it'll entail, but I've named it Plan B, so that's a great start.

Like, totally.

i had a catchy title, but i forgot what is was

What an utterly catatonic Sunday. I spent a total of 10 and a half hours being comatose in front of the idiot box. Quite an accomplishment, I must say; considering that I even declined invitations to Sunday tea (a weekly routine that hasn't been broken for ages). The fact that I started my TV marathon at 10 in the morning really puts things in perspective, with a two hour break for a nap. Sometimes I just amaze myself, I tell you. I reckon something must be scratching at the back of my mind, hence the need for an activity-free Sunday. I just wasn't in the mood to go out, or converse or even smoke. Suprising would be a mild description.

What I've gotta do is not follow a routine. I realised on Friday that weekends are slowly but surely beginning to have a noticeable pattern to them, starting with Fun Friday and culminating in Sleep-in Sunday. Saturdays are either spent recuperating from the previous day, or pondering on where 'da party at'. And considering that drinking/ clubbing is more or less confined to Backyard and Cavell's, the need to shatter any semblance of a regiment has now become a priority, a top one at that.

On saying that, my bank account is now beginning to show symptoms of substance abuse. Or should I say, ATM abuse. I can't really pinpoint where the ringgit went, though the extensive car service over the weekend would account for a sizeable chunk of cash. Roughly, I've spent close to RM 1300 on my car alone, from engine oil to motor insurance. A necessity, by any stretch, but an incredibly costly one as well. Guess the fuel rebate should go someway in resuscitating my bank balance.

The next page: I watched Perfect Stranger last night. It wasn't too bad, to be honest. An intriguing plot, and several twists and turns were sufficient to keep me hooked. But throughout the movie, I could feel a compounding sense of irritation whenever Halle Berry appeared on screen. She just irritates me, I tell you. I can't tell, however, if it's from her mediocre acting or mere appearance. A combination of both, at the expense of being uncertain. One can't help but root for the villain to dispose of her. Well, it didn't happen in Gothika, definitely not in X-Men and disappointingly enough, not last night.

Sigh. One can hope, right?

NB: I've decided to use Arial for the month of September, keeping in line with the need to be more spontaneous.

of elections and erections

So did he or did he not? Will he or will he not? Guess that's what's playing on most people's minds this evening, as approximately 25 million people wait with bated breath for the results of the by-election in Permatang Pauh. Where? Permatang Pauh, Penang. I will not even do a Wiki to discover the exact location of what is currently the hottest political battlefield in the entire country. Even as many ponder if Anwar will win, a smaller number will be pondering if he did indeed take the back door, metaphorically speaking. It just goes to show how blatantly narrow minded Malaysians are, where the sexual preferences of so-and-so play an important part in determining if that person is suited for running a constituency or the nation. That, and his race, creed and religion. Forget capability, disregard integrity, ignore honesty; for these are insignificant traits.

Enough of Malaysian politics, I feel a rumble in the wide expanses of my tummy. Gym today? Mayhaps (is there such a word?) not. Still slightly woozy from the flu attack of three days ago, and my nasal passages have yet to be properly plumbered (?). But then the question arises, if not gym, where? Don't think anyone's around for tea, and Lotus is getting to be more than a bore these days. I'm tempted by Starbucks, or even Gloria Jeans; I've been carrying Anthony Burgess' The Long Day Wanes for more than four months in my bag, hoping to make reading it a routine after work. Not a chance, as yet. I have, on the other hand, started on the third and final installment of the late David Gemmell's Troy series, titles Fall of Kings. I'm hooked, yet again. I said that about the first book, I reiterated it about the second, and I'm setting it in stone for the third. Might I say, it's even better than Troy the feature film, which I feel should have been called Achilles: The One Man Show. For that was what it was, an ode to Brad Pitt's artificially bronzed physique and unreal killer moves, literally. Disappointing, as the movie clearly steers away from Homer's original gist. Ah well, that's Hollywood, isn't it?

A complete 180; Zoosk isn't that great. The way everyone (i.e. two people) was going on about what a great medium it was to meet singles, I thought it was some singles club. Alas, a sizeable number of Zooskers are attached, while a bigger number don't seem to remember that they have a Zoosk date card (Zoosk jargon). And there is something so wrong with putting up a baby or child's picture in the profile box. I mean, there's something fundamentally sick about someone flirting with a person who has a little girl as the profile picture. Fundamentally sick.

Anyways, it's 7.03 pm and there's still no update on the results. I should get a life and leave office now. I should.

one flew over the weekend

What on earth's happening to the weekends?

They seem to be getting shorter and shorter. You wait and wait for Friday evening, and next thing you know, it's Sunday night and you're getting into bed, deflated at the prospect of manic Monday. Football is back, but it's the EPL (stifled yawn). On saying that, it wouldn't be entirely true to say the weekends are nothing more than boredom fests. There were some 'highlights' over the most recent Saturday and Sunday, culminating in plans for a PD getaway. Not holding my breath, though; have been part of many an aborted getaway plan these past few years.

Amid all the social obligations I partook a couple of days ago, I somehow managed to miss Red Cliff part 1. Had been planning to catch the epic China flick for weeks, and now it's playing no more. Sigh. Guess a clear DVD copy with comical subtitles will have to do. And I still haven't watched Hulk or Iron Man yet, as well.

I really have to resume shaving. What had started off as a plan to preserve the relative smoothness of my jawline has now grown into a virgin forest of hair, growing wildly, literally. Will have to rely on The Barber Guys and their magic shaving blade, and the hot towel. A simple service, long forgotten in the more commercially-minded saloons. At least now I can say beyond certainty that the hair on my left side has issues with their brethren on the right. And, would you believe it, I actually have a whorl design embedded somewhere among the active follicles on my neck. A blood whorl.

Right now, right here, at 6.14PM, I'm in a dilemma. Gym or tea or home? Quite a quandary, I tell you. Miss gym, and I'll be wracked by guilt. What prevents me from bouncing along the sweaty aisles (literally) is the fact that the gym will be packed at this hour. There'll be a hundred and one morons chilling by the machines, being incredibly dense and inconsiderate. The cardio equipment will be sought after by every able bodied person, eager to burn off 0.001 g of fat. There should be rule restricting cardio to fatties; people with a minimum amount of fat. Only God knows why some Ethiopian-esque individuals enjoy burning what minute fat they have left, looking dangerously close to burning their muscle and bone as well. Get a bloody life, go and have some burger and fries, mates. Or a nice cup of Baskins & Robbins.

I think I'll mull over it, with a cigarette and Starbucks Caramel Frapuccino.

Aaah, the simple life is often best.

of pins and needles

There are some people in Malaysia whom you just can't talk to. They're not interested in dialogue or exchanging views and opinions. All they're interested, and this is the basis of their pathetic excuse of an existence, is to breed hatred, intolerance and fanaticism. Being sub-humans, they've long lost the mental faculties to converse and debate about matters close to the heart. They've long been lacking in decency, humility and worst of all, simple human intelligence. What they are is a testament that not all Homo sapiens are evolved beings. These degenerates live and die by the sword. All they know, and swear by under the perceived notion of religious faith, is violence, violence and more violence. Rather than discuss issues and grouses calmly and rationally as how human beings are supposed to, they resort to sticks, and parangs and fists. While people are expanding their minds to explore new horizons, these vermin of society excel in issuing threats and blowing up innocents. Good on ya, mates.

On another note, caught Susuk on Saturday. Don't expect much in terms of acting and special effects (it is, after all, a locally produced flick). But the plot and storyline is most intriguing. Personally, I was impressed; it isn't some run of the mill horror fare showcasing distorted faces and omnipotent exorcists. A well thought-of story that had me thinking about it hours after the cinema closed for the day.

Also caught Mummy 3 on dvd; hugely disappointing. When one starts rooting for the mummy (in this case, Jet Li) to squash the life out all the protagonists, you know the acting leaves much to be desired. And the plot was one big predictable yawn. Nothing original or new, other than the generous use of sand, clay and mud.

Guess I'll be brushing off the cobwebs on my much-maligned variety of jerseys sometime this week; most of the European football leagues start next weekend. Think this time around, I'll be watching more matches, hopefully more Serie A and Bundesliga action is in store on Astro. And yes, EPL too (sigh).

Decided to apply for leave year-end, so the hunt for a holiday destination starts now. Alone or accompanied, I know not, I care not. Altogether, I'll have close to ten days being free, and thus the pressure to fully utilise the holiday has already started.

What's this I hear about Krabi?

call me weekender, really.

A thoroughly enjoyable weekend.

Plenty of drinks, food and conversation. A pseudo-hedonistic three nights which resulted in hyperacidity.

I'm beginning to like Damansara Heights. Why? Affordable alcohol. Seriously. Rm12 for a mug? Smashing. A delectable view doesn't exactly hurt matters. Yeah, it does come off chi-chi at times, but when was the last anyone could place cheap beers and decent crowd in the same sentence, let alone same page? I suppose the delicacies in J&R deserve a try, though I still have an aversion to processed pork. Perhaps several strips of bacon would do the trick on my next visit. And Aaliya isn't too shabby either. Though the quality of sound system leaves much to be desired, as does the strangely fresh warm beer. Acres of space, though. And cooling, very cooling.

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We Own the Night is an awesome movie, very similar to The Departed. And reminiscent of The Yards, which first featured Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg. Enticing storyline, coupled with great acting. Well worth the RM 3.20 spent on toll to Puchong. Also watched Run, Fatboy, Run. Hilarious, though not as endearing as Hot Fuzz. Was too Americanised for my liking, with the typical feel-good ending. But hilarious.

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Love. A poorer cousin of Romance, and Passion. Many oft look for Love, but end up ditching it for the much glorified Romance and more exciting Passion. And when Romance has skipped away and Passion absconded, the shadows that are Bitterness and Discontent hound Love, relentless and cold. For without the more illustrious Romance and much celebrated Passion, Love appears to be nothing than a dull vessel, unattractive and superfluous.

The Dark Knight

There’s something so apt about the title of the latest Batman movie. Batman does come across as being a knight in this modern age, with principles and values more suited during the medieval ages.

And boy is he dark, his character that is. None of that gung-ho, pumped up good ol’ American patriotism so common among comic superheroes. Add to that Bruce Wayne’s tortured soul, in a continual struggle to separate the man from the bat, and you have a movie so dark and ominous that the Joker seems to be the only colourful character. In a good way of course.

The 150 minute long fare was entertaining and thoroughly absorbing, though one or two scenes were more reminiscent of a Bond flick. I don’t recall a single bad performance from any of the cast, and not a scene passed where one had to stifle a yawn (though I recall one lady on the opposite aisle snoring half an hour into the movie.

As for the late Heath Ledger, what a way to sign off. An absolutely psychotic representation of the caped crusader’s most enduring arch-enemy. He trumped Jack Nicholson’s version, hands down. If there is an Oscar for Best Villain, look no further.

I must also add here that GSC IOI Mall Puchong isn’t too bad, contrary to what I have previously espoused. Easily managed to get tickets for good seats, on a Saturday night at that, just two days after the movie premiered. Yes, the inhabitants and the aesthetics of the mall do not inspire confidence in the goodness of mankind, but for a hassle-free and relatively cheaper night out at the movies, it fits the bill rather satisfactorily.