Not Even Death Can Save You From Me

Just Like Old Times

I'm still trying to look for a PS3 to borrow or rent. I HAVE TO FINISH MGS4.

Anyway so I went out in the evening after dinner to meet the dudes for basketball. I can feel it all coming back. Or what little there was in the first place. But it's coming back man.

Boom! 3 points from downtown baby!

Familiar Faces

I was looking at Leo's blog and found that he has done some celeb lookalikes of his. So I thought, let's do mine.

*****

May 2003



Oh look! I actually know most of these guys. Not bad.

*****

November 2006



Ok...

*****

September 2007



The Pavarotti one wins for me. For the open mouth.

*****

October 2007



Hey it's DiCaprio again!

*****

May 2008



The fact that Takashi Sorimachi is in there overwhelms the fact that there are 5 women out of 8, including the one who is old and most similar to me.

*****

5 minutes ago



It's final: I look like a woman.

You Don't Mess With The Zhaohan

I went into the theatre, got to my seat, and proceeded to wasting almost 2 hours of my time.

Look, I smiled a couple of times. When I did, what went through my mind wasn't "Hahaha oh my god I can't believe they just did that, that's bloody hilarious". That's actually from the bunch of crazy girls sitting beside me. And they weren't thinking it.

The movie consisted mainly of two things: hip thrusts and implied sex. There was also something going on about the Middle-Eastern conflict between Israel and Palestine, that Michelle Obama had the best legs and Cindy McCain wasn't getting any. Oh and a sweet little love story where Zohan ends up with a hot Palestinian chick after he tells her he wants to fuck her brains out.

I'd tell you more, but you've probably seen some sort of variant before anyway. Little Nicky, perhaps. Or Big Daddy. It doesn't matter.

At least it only costed me $6.

Snakes

You know that post where I said I wished I was stupid? I was sitting on the porcelain throne and then all of a sudden a thought came to me. What the hell was I thinking? I am stupid. Like the mother of my friend Mr. Gump once said, "Stupid is as stupid does." I still have no idea what it really means, but quoting someone famous is always, always impressive.

So I finally got myself some hot Metal Gear Solid 4 action. It's as fun to play as instant noodles is good to eat. You know it isn't good for you, but no matter what anybody says you'll wolf it down just the same. You love it. You want to hate it but you can't and you know it. Everybody tells you that despite Nissin's gentlest suggestions that it was real ramen, it simply wasn't.

My point is that MGS4 is more movie than game. It isn't as movie-like as Indigo Prophecy (or Fahrenheit) was, but it certainly is very lengthy in the cutscenes department. I mean, in a couple of occasions you literally walk a few steps into another cutscene after the last one, or maybe if there were some enemies around you could bust a cap or two into them and then follow the determined path into the next trigger for a lengthy conversation between Snake and some bloke.

I've only completed the first two Acts so far, and it's still rather satisfying. The boss fight wasn't so nice though. It didn't actually feel like a real fight, and the boss was so lame if I were to fight her again I would walk out of it as perfect as Megan Fox.

From what I've heard the rest of the game was going to be even more cutscene-heavy. I'll never be able to understand why if everything were cutscenes, Hideo Kojima had to cut some of the original stuff out so it'll fit in a 50Gb capacity dual-layered Bluray disk.

Some of the cutscenes were pretty irritating at first. When a long one pulls up you'll tend to want to put down your Sixaxis and enjoy the dialogue. But no. Some parts of certain cutscenes have flashbacks going on, so while you listen to David Hayter make his raspy voice even more raspy, you have to watch out for signals to start mashing on the circle button when something nostalgic pops up during conversation.

Something new that happened with this installment was the presence of a player economy. There was no currency on Shadow Moses. No currency on Big Shell. And certainly none in 1960s Soviet Russia. But then all of a sudden in this game you're picking up guns to sell and buying ammo from the menu being manned by a malnutritioned monkey. Need a clip of 5.56mm ammo? That'll be 200 points please, thank you, please come again.

The storyline has put out some very sharp criticisms and views about wars like all the other MGS games have, and this time it's updated to keep up with our modernised ideas of threat and combat. The elderly jokes never end, and you get random pokes from nowhere that'll make you chuckle, but looking like a grimacing Wookie.

It's all in all a great game, but it's really just for the fanboys. For the others who have no idea who Solid Snake is, it's probably better if you played something else like Dynasty Warriors on your PS3. Or Pacman. Or Pong.

Journey

So the first thing I get from Malaysia is a cut on the lip. Big deal. I also got many other things. Like very tired feet and horrible nails.

I'm watching this nice movie called Pulp Fiction. On my new 22-inch wide-screen LCD monitor. I know, it's a damn old movie. It's only 14 years old. It's nice.

I had a weird dream last night. There were a lot of people in it. A lot of whom I know but would never find in the same room within the next twenty or so alternate universes, but more importantly four girls I have never seen before in my entire life. I remembered being introduced to all of them but no matter how hard I tried I can only recall one: Chloe.

Whatever it means, I have no idea. There are some intricate details I would like to purposely leave out of course. I remember being in that dream, and a then from nowhere a tug from reality. Then I found myself getting up in the middle of some seats on an MRT pulling into Woodlands station.

And then I woke up.

Security

If you are shopping for jewellery in Kuala Lumpur and you feel a threatening presence outside the door, relax. It's only the security guard standing outside with a 12-gauge shotgun.

Likes and wants

I like being happy. Everybody likes being happy. Being happy is a nice feeling. It makes the people around you happy. You do good things when you're happy.

I want to be miserable. So miserable that no matter what happens I don't have any expectations. The feeling of knowing exactly what to expect and nothing else. I won't put everything into false hope. I won't When I do I'll never get disappointed. I'll be surprised, but never disappointed.

I like being smart. Everybody likes being smart. Being smart is good. I can point out or think of something faster than a lot of people. You do things efficiently when you're smart.

I want to be stupid. So stupid that I can stop thinking about so many things. The feeling of being absolutely unaware. I won't start projecting the future in my mind. I won't notice the little things that mean so little and yet so much. When I don't I'll stop hesitating and stop doubting and rejecting myself before anything has even happened.

But as the great philosopher Jagger once said: "You can't always get what you want."

21 AC Wins All

The D&D International Game Day was today. Got to play a nice imbalanced 4th Edition preview adventure, and got two free figurines and a d20 in the process, and so did a friend and three strangers at my table. The girl who has never played D&D before went home with a nice Green Dragon figurine. If the size of it doesn't qualify it for a bigger word.

I also managed to block most of a small white dragon's attacks until it was pelted to death by about twenty magical missiles, crossbow bolts and lances made of pure divine energy.

It's okay, I'll go get a Bahamut one when I find it.

Fury

Oh fuck yeah.

On towards the next decade

Today is my birthday.

Gosh I thought I grew out of the whole birthday cake thing. Actually I did, but not the presents thing. I demand more presents! Will it really make a difference if I asked for it nicely?

Somebody I know found this Malaysian Singapore-hating blog, started around the time when Pedra Blanca was awarded to Singapore by the International Court. Since then that blogger has called for a boycott of various Singaporean companies and products, gave an incredible analogy of how Singapore apparently stole the rock from Malaysia, and then stalk Singaporean forums for reactions and then commenting on how we flame everything we dislike.

Okay maybe the last one is true. Although I'm sure most Malaysians, even the ones who aren't idiots who hate Singapore simply for who we are, have the tendency to want to criticise things that they don't agree with, especially when it would have to do with their country.

The last post was signed off with "If you can't accept dissenting views, you deserve to be fed propaganda and screwed. First world country, my a**!!"

I can actually accept dissenting views, not bigoted ones. What this person has written isn't something that is just different in opinion, it is completely devoid of any tolerance or any sound judgment and based entirely on his/her obstinate hatred towards the country.

What if I told you Proton was a lousy car maker just because it's Malaysian? But I wouldn't. Why? Is it because:

a) the argument is bigoted, or
b) the argument is weak as it is lacking in any solid evidence to prove the statement, and the nature of this argument has caused any arguments I would make afterward to be inevitably discredited?

Some people just simply don't deserve any support whatsoever.

Good Will Hunting

Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me, fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Will: No.
Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Will: Nope.
Sean: If I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you would know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?
[Will nods]
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated, I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you, sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.