And so while I was away in Pangkor, I fell. As usual. What's an overseas trip for me without falling and hurting my leg parts.

This time, they were scratches on my left lower leg but the hardest impact was on the shin. It's still pretty sore up till now. And I've hurt my shin a coupla times already so the pain's quite neutral to me. (I bet the bones are ready to give way anytime soon but touch wood and fuck yeah am I typing on my huge wooden desk)

So earlier tonight I related the story of my fall in Pangkor to my brother. And he remarked "Why everywhere you go must fall down?!" and I replied "I know man!" Sad but true.

Okay the climax of this blog post is that, my bro actually stepped onto the scratched top surface of my feet, which was probably the biggest scratch among all other scratches that I go during my fall in Pangkor. (hahahaha @ my fall in Pangkor. I make it sound so foreboding somehow). And it wasn't a quick step like he reacted fast and quickly lifted his foot. It was more like he was taking one of the very last steps of his life and really took his time and stepped my injured foot.

The pain was excruciating. I swear. And then it was fine.

So yeah, we had supper and headed home. Nothing interesting. Unless you want to know what I had for supper which was sambal stingray and sambal squid and chicken wings which was like ultimate win so spicy and shiok okay really bad sentence structure I apologise.

I took off my shoe and intended to show my bro the scratch on my foot. And he was like "Sia la! Blue-black!" and I was like "Huh since when?" and I looked down and my bro was right! (Okay another poor sentence structure I apologise again) The scratch was literally bruised and my reaction was like "Holy cow?!"

It wasn't bruised before. It was never bruised to begin with. And immediately I recalled my brother stepping onto my foot earlier and deduced he was the culprit.

So ya. End of story. Moral of the story? Mei you.

My foot's still bruised but oh well.

Chao.

Omg this trailer looks fucking epic. The Chronicles of Narnia is so amazing. And yeah you can judge me all you want for being a I-don't-read-the-books-but-I-love-the-movies person. If you knew me well enough, you'd know that I don't read.


I can't wait to see Aslan. If you must know, I have a huge crush on him. He's so big and fluffy and he's a fucking lion. I'm in love.

And Prince Caspian is in this one too. Nyeh.

Aslan is hotter.

Chao.

Holy mother of your son's cow.

I've never seen myself or felt so short in my life before, after looking at this photo (taken on the 6th of Oct 2010 at Lata Kinjang, Gopeng [Some waterfall in Malaysia]). It feels so awkward and surreal.

I feel like a midget now.

And pardon the whole expression, composition and what not of the picture. I was just ... being me.


Chao.

In case people are wondering why the fuck am I not replying their smses or calls for the next 4 days, please direct them to this blog. So I can tell them that I'm currently overseas (somewhere deep in the jungles of Malaysia) and responding to the smses and calls will cost me a million bombs. I'm just saying.

If you're important enough, perhaps I'll be nice and reply. Most of the time, out of courtesy, I respond because I don't want the sender to think that I'm dead.

On the subject of death, I don't see why people want smokers to stop smoking. I mean, yeah smoking leads to lung cancer and other harmful heart-related diseases that will eventually end your life. But haven't you heard of that primary school kid who died because he got knocked down by a car? Or that kid who fell from some high-rise building? Or some other kid who got killed by some other kid?

I mean look, smoking isn't that life-threatening anymore now is it? I can just die while I jaywalk across the road like any other non-smoker. Or perhaps I decide to jump down from the overhead bridge because I don't want to live anymore.

Smoking to smokers isn't about being cool or stressed anymore. Neither is drinking to alcoholics. Nor eating to fat people. Nor being a slut to ... being a slut.

I'm not implying that smoking is good. Or drinking green tea is good. Or eating sambal sting ray is good. Or spending a lot of money to fix your face is good. Or buying carrot cake every night from that stall to satisfy your midnight cravings is good.

I'm trying to imply that one's man rubbish is another man's treasure. Or however the saying goes.

I'm just saying.

I can't think straight anymore. I'm leaving Singapore to some place in Malaysia in about 3-4 hours and I've yet to pack and it's already 3.30am. I'll be back on Thursday night, in case you care.

Oh typical Zakk.

Here's a picture of me in case you forgot how I look already. Shame on you if you're guilty on the former.


And I'll be away for the next 4 days with this bitch of mine so I don't really mind being away from everyone else. And I'm so fucking stoked I can't wait and I don't really mind not sleeping at all. But I'm so fucking paranoid that I might forget my passport. Of all things. Pfft.


Chao.