PDA (Public Display of Anger)

Hat wrote briefly about several things that she doesn't get. Here's a list, in no particular order, of several things that vex me to venus:

1. My local friends who make fun of me because sometimes I speak the local lingo. I’m Malaysian. So are you, fuckhead. Typically:

Phone rings, I answer.

‘Ey brader lu buat apa sial? Aku...macam...(..loses the ability to focus on fake accent.. but is still determined to get on my nerves)..kenapa..eh..apersalll..ah..kau ni..(is making absolutely no sense at this point and gives up, abandons the whole act and speaks in English). Wouldn’t it have been easier for the both of us if you just called and said ‘Hey, what are you up to?’

I can draw parallels between that and this:


Lets even out the score here if you want to keep playing. Speaking Chinese to your Chinese friends doesn’t make you any less of a ching chong chinky little winky mainland china man than speaking Malay to my friends makes me ‘uncivilised’ (i.e. kampong), as you constantly insinuate. Stop the uncreative, inept mocking. I, for one, have never sat on a revved up C70 Honda kapcai, so I know for a fact that my Malay is not as coarse as you seem to believe. Second, your mimicry skills are pathetic and need a lot more practice- no one enjoys ersatz comedies, not even your friends. Go eat your fucking nooderrrss, than chew werr mash.






2. You, underaged ugly, at the mall, with the SLR hanging from your neck. This constant snapping of lame photos of your ugly friends must end. All they’re doing is sitting down in McDonalds, sharing a small pack of fries between all 9 of them. This is because that’s all they can afford after they had to blow their annual allowance chipping in for the cheapest SLR for you, just so that your herpes-faced herd can walk around the mall, thinking ‘Fuck.we’re arty. If you can’t tell by our flannel shirts, just look, our friend has an SLR around his neck!’ Back to you, Sheppard with the SLR, sure your pictures may turn out looking like Picassos masterpieces, but that’s only because your friends have fucking disoriented faces. Save our poor eyes the pain and our minds the irritation and basically do the world a favour : go home and stay there forever.

3. The word 'indie'. Shit, i just typed it. Cringe.



4.

People who pass judgment when I order a salad. It’s a fucking salad, not a diet pill. You like your grease, I like my greens. I don’t say ‘Easy there, Sean Kingston’ when you order your oil drenched fried chicken so please, let me enjoy my salad sans suspicion of anorexia. Maybe you should try it too so you’d look and sound less constipated all the time.



5.

People on social networking websites who claim to be your ‘friends’ but then launch shocking, horrible, unforgivable personal attacks on you in cyberspace. You log on to Facebook and notice in the right hand corner of the page, a seemingly harmless little red box with the number 8 in it. You’re humming a little tune because it’s been a pretty good day so far- you haven’t tripped, spilt anything or been yelled at yet. Innocently, you click on the box and to your absolute horror, you discover that a ‘friend’ you haven’t seen in the past 7 years has been feeling a little nostalgic, a little malicious and took it upon him/herself to publish up 8 dusty(ghastly) photos of you..photos which really should have been left (or burnt) when they were taken : in the unsightly past. I don’t have a problem with nostalgia, sure, we had some good times but I don’t need to be reminded of how bad I looked when I was having those good times. The best (and by best I mean most mortifying) thing about these old pictures is that I’m always surrounded by my pretty friends who somehow never went through an 11 year long awkward phase (yes, I’m special. And still recovering) or any gawkiness at all, from my metal smile you can tell that at the time I didn’t fully appreciate how fucking retarded I looked. And so you sit, look back and forth between your reflection and the 12 year old you and realise that minus the geeky glasses and braces, not all that much has changed. After this, no humming is heard for weeks. This cannot be what ‘friends’ are for. No.

6. This is probably more heartbreaking than it is irritating:



Ramesh Srivastava, Voxtrot frontman, possibly the man of my dreams, GAY.