Ewe Paik Leong, The Wordslinger

Sexy Russian social escort springs surprise on my pal, Hussein

2012-01-26T10:21:00.000-08:00

(Pix of model for illustration purpose only)

“Gong Xi Fa Cai,” Wati greets Chow Kah, shaking her hands clamped into a fist vigorously. Chow Kah’s frequent companion, Jessica, the hottest gal in Hot Legs Nightclub is away in Taiwan on a vacation. So, he has booked Mimi, a shy, new-comer on the nightclub scene.

Chow Kah gives Wati and Mimi an ang pow each. Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke has been closed for four days for the CNY. Earlier, Mamasan Lulu had consulted a geomancer who said it’s only auspicious to open on the fifth day.

Wati is dressed in a stunning red cheongsam, with side slits revealing her sexy thighs. Seated beside her, Hussein peels a mandarin orange and throws a slice into his mouth. He pops another piece into Wati’s waiting mouth, her scarlet lips, matching the colour of her dress, spread open like an “O”.

“How was KL during Chinese New Year?” I ask Hussein. “I heard you didn’t balik kampung.”

“As usual, it was quiet. With no traffic, I went looking for awek in Cheras and Kepong. Quality of stocks was poor so I ended up with a Russian social escort. With half the city’s residents gone, business was slow for them. So I managed to get a discount. Only six hundred instead of the usual eight hundred.”

Chow Kah grins. “You lucky man. I should’ve stayed in KL. But, my parents’ll hammer me properly for not going back.” Mimi cracks some Shandung groudnuts, feeds him.

Hussein shakes his head. “It was a date gone sour.”

“Oh? How? Bad service from her?” I ask.

“No, she was friendly except for one thing. When I was in the lobby, she came down smiling and escorted me to her room. She called herself Arina. Blonde, just like a centre-fold model. Face, good-looking. But, in the room she dimmed the lights. I didn’t like it, but she insisted. She says she’s new to the business and is shy.

“My mental alarm bell rang. Could she be a transsexual? Sex-change transsexuals pretending to be women always try not to allow their clients to view their artificial womanhood. She didn’t join me in the shower, which increased my suspicion.

”She didn’t want me to see her body. For what reason? I wondered. Anyway, while making love, I tried to fondle her breasts, but she pushed my hand away. She hugged me to divert my attention from her breasts. They looked solid and juicy. But, in a fit of passion, I swiftly moved my head down, and began sucking her nipple.

“I was shocked when her breast slipped down her belly. It was a prosthetic breast. My tongue was licking an ugly surgical wound – a dark and long scar across her former left breast! I almost puke. I rushed to the washroom and gargled with Listerine. ‘You have only one breast?!’ I shrieked to her when I came out. She was torn between guilt and embarrassment.

“ 'Yes, I lost one breast to cancer. I’m sorry,' she said. She retrieved the rubber thing and tried re-sticking it to her chest using adhesive strips. 'You – you still want to continue?'

“She was almost in tears. Crocodile tears or real, I don’t know. I shook my head. For some reason, I was consumed with guilt.” Hussein’s face radiates with compassion as he speaks. “I paid her and left. I didn’t feel good for another reason -- six hundred went down the drain.”

Pity for Arina hangs in the cool air of the VIP Room of Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke. Everyone is silent for several moments.

“She shouldn’t be doing this work if she has artificial breast,” Chow Kah says.

“Let’s not judge her,” Wati comments. “Just consider her as a breast cancer victim with no marketable skills and no proper education trying to make fast money.”

/end

Ladyboys serve as stewardesses in Thailand’s P.C. Air

2012-01-20T23:24:00.000-08:00

Pondans or transsexuals or ladyboys – either you love them or hate them. Though they are sometimes ridiculed, Bangkok-based airlines P.C. Airline Ltd has recruited six ladyboys as its stewardesses. Among the recruits is Miss Tiffany 2007, Miss Thanyarat Jiraphatpakom (pix above), who measures 38-24-38. Peter Chan, CEO of P.C. Air Ltd, says he believes in equal employment opportunities. Transsexual stewardesses wear distinctive name tags so that immigration authorities can identify their gender. My kudo goes to Peter Chan for not discriminating against kateoys. Nay, I’m no transsexual lover.

/end

Wati of Hot Legs Nightclub advises all readers to drive home carefully for the reunion dinner

2012-01-20T06:11:00.000-08:00

"Hi, Guys! It's me, Wati, GRO No. 128 of Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke. In the spirit of 1Malaysia, I wish all readers of The Wordslinger a "Happy Chinese New Year". Please drive home safely for your reunion dinner. Don't be a mangled corpse. Wet kisses!"

/end

Gong Xi Fa Cai from Jessica of Hot Legs Nightclub!

2012-01-11T10:05:00.000-08:00

"To all readers of The Wordslinger, Gong Xi Fa Cai and may Happiness, Prosperity and Longevity be yours in the Year of the Dragon! Yum Seng!" -- Jessica (No. 88 of Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke}.

Sulaiman Esa should stick to painting and not spread anti-American propaganda

2012-01-07T06:57:00.000-08:00

(Pix courtesy of budakad82.blogspot.com]

I enter the National Art Gallery and walk up its circular ramp. An exhibition is being held. At the entrance to one gallery, I see an artist’s name: Sulaiman Esa. I don’t know who he is and have never heard of him. I have heard of Latiff Mohidin and Ibrahim Hussein, though. Scattered on the walls are numerous paintings. What’s this? In another gallery, running video footage on a rectangular screen shows the harshest-possible interrogation committed by US armed personnel at Guantanamo Bay detention camp. A plaque condemns "US hypocrisy" for transgressing human rights against Muslim prisoners in the camp.

Why is Sulaiman Esa abusing the exhibition as a platfrom to condemn America? He is an artist, not an international politician. He has chosen to wear blinders [aka blinkers -- those worn by race horses] so as not to see that the majority of the prisoners were terrorists, their conspirators and hatchet-men. Cold-blooded, ruthless killers who have played a role in blasting fellow Muslims to bits and pieces don’t deserve supposed human rights. Below is the list of innocent Muslims who died in the September 11, 2001 attacks.

Muslim Victims of 9/11
=======================

* Shabbir Ahmed - 47 years old - Windows on the World Restaurant
* Tariq Amanullah - 40 years old - Fiduciary Trust Co.
* Michael Baksh - 36 years old - Marsh & McLennan
* Touri Hamzavi Bolourchi - 69 years old - retired nurse on United #175
* Abul K. Chowdhury - 30 years old - Cantor Fitzgerald
* Mohammad Salahuddin Chowdhury - 38 years old - Windows on the World
* Jemal Legesse De Santis - 28 years old - World Trade Center
* Simon Suleman Ali Kassamali Dhanani - 63 years old - Aon Corp.
* Syed Abdul Fatha - 54 years old - Pitney Bowes
* Mon Gjonbalaj - 65 years old - Janitor, World Trade Center
* Nezam A. Hafiz - 32 years old - Marsh & McLennan
* Mohammed Salman Hamdani - 23 years old - NYPD Cadet
* Zuhtu Ibis - 25 years old - Cantor Fitzgerald
* Muhammadou Jawara - 30 years old - MAS Security
* Sarah Khan - 32 years old - Forte Food Service
* Taimour Firaz Khan - 29 years old - Carr Futures
* Abdoulaye Kone - 37 years old - Windows on the World
* Abdu Ali Malahi - 37 years old - WTC Marriott
* Nurul Hoque Miah - 35 years old - Marsh & McLennan
* Boyie Mohammed - 50 years old - Carr Futures
* Ehtesham U. Raja - 28 years old - TCG Software
* Ameenia Rasool - 33 years old - Marsh & McLennan
* Mohammad Ali Sadeque - 62 years old - newspaper vendor at WTC, reported missing
* Rahma Salie & child - 28 years old (7 months pregnant) - American #11
* Khalid M. Shahid - 25 years old - Cantor Fitzgerald
* Mohammed Shajahan - 41 years old - Marsh & McLennan
* Nasima Hameed Simjee - 38 years old - Fiduciary Trust Co.
* Michael Theodoridis - 32 years old - American #11
* Abdoul Karim Traore - 41 years old - Windows on the World
* Karamo Trerra - 40 years old - ASAP NetSource
* Shakila Yasmin - 26 years old - Marsh & McLennan

[source: http://islam.about.com/od/terrorism/a/Muslim-Victims-Of-9-11-Attack.htm]

I have read “The Holy Koran: Text & Translation” by Abdullah Yusuf Ali (Publisher: Islamic Book Trust, Kuala Lumpur]. Nowhere in the holy book can I find any teaching that says it is jihad to kill innocent men, women and children, whether Muslims or non-Muslims, in the name of terrorism.

Sulaiman Esa, please stick to your paintings instead of spreading anti-US propaganda during your exhibition.

/end

Jessica of Hot Legs Nightclub regales patrons with erotic massage story

2011-12-30T00:03:00.000-08:00

[Pix of model for illustration purpose only]

“How’s your holiday?” I ask Jessica. The VIP Room of Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke is already decorated with tiny lanterns and auspicious Chinese sayings.

“Great! I went with my Ahkong [grandpa], sister and parents to Bali,” she says.

“Oh, I’ve been there before. Yes, fantastic for surfing, cultural performances, handicrafts and paintings.”

She dips her hand into a bag and takes our four miniature blue surf boards brightly painted and four wooden key chains intricately carved. "Take one of each,” she says.”

Chow Kah brings the souvenirs to his lips and smacks them. “Thanks, Jess, precious gifts to remember. Must keep them under my pillow.”

“How’s the nightlife there?” asks Hussein. He places the tokens in his shirt pocket.

Wati observes the blue surf board. It leans against a miniature dolphin in an upright position. Makes a great display on the living room cupboard. “Should be expensive. Kuta’s a tourist destination.”

“Yup, if you want to book a kupu-kupu malam [butterfly of the night], it will cost you one million rupiah onwards.”

“Our money how much?” asks Wati.

“Around three hundred and fifty,” Hussein says.

“That’s cheap,” I say.

“But that’s the rock bottom price for makcik with looks that kill your libido. For spring chicken, it’s one-and-a-half million rupiahs at least. They hang around the bars in Kuta. Cheaper meat are on sale at Sanur.”

“How you know? My 70-year old Ahkong’s [grandpa} still young at heart. Two weeks before the trip, he bought back a bottle of China snake wine. He kept it in his room. Every night before sleeping he'd take a shot.

“One evening, in Bali, my Ahkong [grandpa] sneaked out. I bumped into him in the lobby as I was going to the hotel’s swimming pool. Just going to a spa in Sanur, he says. Next morning during breakfast, I ask, how's the spa?

“Ho liao! My Ahkong enthused.” He gave a thumb-up. The supir [driver] took him to the Arum Village Day Spa. Actually, he asked to be taken to a spa luar istimewa, the hum sup old man confesses. Can't blame him. My grandma died 15 years ago. He's got no one to play with."

Jessica brings out a pile of colour pixs, handing them to Wati. “Here're some photos taken in Bali."

Hussein leans toward Wati to look at Jessica's holiday photos. "Your grandpa went for aromatherapy massage?"

"You know, Thailand’s famous for soapy-water body massage. In Malaysia, our girls use baby oil. Bali's hottest sleazy service is now beer massage. The buleh [Westerners] loooove it!”

Chow Kah raises a pitcher of Asahi beer. “Same as body-to-body massage but they use beer, rite?”

“Sort of. The masseuse enters the room with a basket containing two cans of cold Bintang beer, towels and a spray, my Ahkong says. She shakes one tin vigorously. Then she pops it open. Whoooooosh! The froth starts shooting out! She aims at his body, the froth ejaculating like semen. Ahkong claims that instantly, afternoon heatiness accumulated from daytime sightseeing drains away. Then, she sprays lotion over the beer layer. She springs into action. Massages his arms and chest. Her killer technique is gliding up and down his inner thighs with gentle pinching of the genitalia area.

“After fifteen minutes, the poor old man buay tahan liao. She asks him, Bapak mahu love massage? He understands. Mahu! Mahu! The old bugger shrieks excitedly. His libido turbo-charged with snake-wine already -- cannot resist. The girl strips and takes a quick shower. Lays down spread eagle. She is all his to play with! Her brown breasts are as round as char siew pow, my grandpa's eyes looking dreamy in sweet memory as he relates his sexperience. The Balinese girl is only 18 years old. Her wild orchid tight as a bachang [rice dumpling] my grandpa discovers later."

“She jigs another can of Bintang beer with force, as if masturbating it. Buka dan tembak atas badan saya, she plays teacher. Bapak boleh jilat beer dari susu dan badan saya [you can lick the beer from my breasts and body] Wah, my Ahkong chiak bay leow loh! [eat cannot finish lah.] He's a hard-core drinker.” Jessica giggles. “Must have played doggie for a while with his partner. The rest of the story, you should know.”

Excitement seizes Hussein. “Address of this spa?”

“Jalan Danau Poso, Sanur. All taxi drivers should know it.”

“Wow...I must go to Bali for my Chinese New Year vacation,” Chow Kah announces. “Hey, Jess, do a favour, please. Ask your grandpa to buy a bottle of snake wine for me."

Hussein's eyebrows shoot upward. "Got any halal snake products for manhood, ah?"

/end

Jessica of Hot Legs Nightclub wishes everyone a Merry X'mas and a Happy New Year

2011-12-19T21:22:00.000-08:00

Jessica, the "fiery red number" in Hot Legs Nightclub & Karaoke says: "I wish readers of The Wordslinger blog a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year. My 2012 resolution is to share my jokes and intimate knowledge of sensuality with you all as much as possible." -- This was the message and digital pix I received in my email this morning.

/end

Why Malaysia will never produce a world-class writer?

2011-12-17T00:32:00.001-08:00

Which Malaysian writer has won a world-class literary award or earned a place on the The New York Times bestseller list? None. And never will. The prestigious list is dominated by Americans. Why? America is a nation of readers. They read while battling constipation in the loo, while waiting for their aeroplane flight, while sun-tanning in Alcapuco, while waiting for their food to be served. Malaysians banish free time to the garbage bins by lepak-ing in shopping malls and watching ASTRO serials and playing mahjong and singing in karaokes.

America is also a nation of writers. It has more than 190 MFA Creative Writing programmes that are accredited. Some are full-residency, others low–residency and still others can be completed totally online. More than 170 undergraduate programmes in Creative Writing are also available. How many institutions of higher learning in Malaysia offer such programmes? (“Mass communications” is different from “creative writing.”).

Expressing creativity and writing of truth are given almost absolute freedom in America. African Americans have written historical memoirs and personal essays on racial discrimination and slavery -– and they have been published in respected magazines and literary journals -- and Jewish Americans have recalled the Holocaust in memorable autobiographies. American scribes have investigated and exposed wrong-doings by powerful politicians (Nixon's Watergate, Ted Kennedy's Chappaquiddick, Clinton's Lewinsky). Write such themes in Malaysia and, surely, you will find yourself arrested.

Just as England had once been labelled as a "nation of shopkeepers", Malaysia is a "nation of non-literati" and will never spawn a great writer.

/end

Sexy nightclub girls give tips on selecting condoms

2011-12-15T23:26:00.001-08:00

(Pix of model for illustration purpose only)

I am early. There are no customers in the hall of Bukit Bintang's Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke. The security guard recognizes me and waves me to enter. “Boss, you can go and sit down first, the girls coming later.”

Two workers shuffle on the carpet in the hall as they lug three crates crammed with empty beer bottles out of the kitchen. At the bar, the captain is wiping glasses with a piece of cloth. He smiles at me. “Mummy is in the office. She’s doing some paperwork.”

I walk to the VIP Room. Through the glass partition, I see Jessica, clad in jeans and a T-shirt. She sees me and waves her hand. Jessica wriggles her upper torso, lifting off her ratty T-shirt over her head. I stop outside the room, my mind hovering between embarrassment and temptation.

Two mountains measuring 36-inch of size cup-D make my eyes pop. Then she steps into a red, spaghetti-strap evening dress. Nonchalantly, her hands slip under the dress, reaches the buttons of her blue jeans, undo them, as well as slide the zip down. She squirms out of her jeans, with 38-inch buttocks doing a sexy dance. Her black lacy panty and creamy thighs have the same effect as Viagra or Cialis on an 80-year old geezer.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“Sure; let me switch on the air-con.” She presses a button on a remote. Teet! Teet!

“Why’re you changing here?”

“Someone’s in the washroom, dunno who. Maybe one of the night-shift account girls. I think that person lausai (purging). I waited quite long outside.” She throws her clothes into a small bag and leaves the room. “Let me keep this in the locker first.”

Minutes later, Chow Kah and Hussein arrive together with Wati. Wati and Hussein’s arms tangle like creepers. “Where’s Jessica?” asks Chow Kah.

“Here I am,” Jessica appears from behind the group.

Everyone settles down. Jessica smiles. “Time flies. Year 2011 coming to an end.”

“Yes, Christmas is near,” Chow Kah says. “I want to buy special condoms. Give a few as Christmas present to my wife; can also use them on some spa gurls.” He winks with lechery. Any recommendation?”

“Studded condoms are good,” says Hussein. “More friction, more sensation, more screaming, more orgasms.”

“Don’t assume all gurls like those studded condoms; if they’re new to sex, it can be painful for them,” Wati says.

Long flowing obsidian hair frames her brown face. She resembles Thai model Bongkoch Kongmalai or maybe Bongkoch Kongmalai resembles her, I don’t know. She crosses her legs, her cocoa-coloured thighs remind me of the legs of a frog but longer and slimmer and sexier. She is wearing open-toed sandals tonight, and her manicured big toe sports a gold ring.

“Oh? Really?”

“Most important thing is the condom must be the right size,” Jessica says. She presses a bell and a waiter comes in. “Please empty the ashtrays.” The Myanmar guy obeys her command. “Too small, it feels uncomfortable; too loose, it may slip off during intercourse.”

Wati brushes strands of hair behind her ears. “Flavoured condoms are excellent for oral sex. Got vanilla, got chocolate, got strawberry but no sambal belacan. Heeheeehee…”

Hussein’s eyes light up. “You tried before ah?” He straightens his back.

“No lah.” Wati finger flicks Hussein’s ear. “You jahat lah (naughty).”

“Let me reveal a secret, “ says Jessica. “Much has been said about length but girth is more important.”

“What’s girth?” mumbles Chow Kah.

Jessica forms an ‘O’ with her thumb and middle finger. “Circumference or thickness. Why your English so char lah? Anyway, a thick manhood is equally important as a long one. It can hit the G-spot better than a thin one. That’s why some girls masturbate with cucumbers and not pencils. So… if yours is slender, get a custom-made thick condom. Or wear those with French ticklers.”

I ask: “Where to buy such kind of novelty condoms?”

“Naughty Shop, G106, Ground Floor of Sungei Wang Plaza,” says Jessica. “I was shopping for clothes and happened to pass it.” She shifts sideways to Chow Kah until their bodies touch. Chow Kah drops his hand on her thigh, and she holds his hand, her GFE technique teasing his biological urges.

“The second floor of Endah Parade also got one such store.” Wati tries to outdo Jessica. She twines her arm around the waist of Hussein. “Last time, Low Yat Plaza also got. Now, maybe closed already. But I heard also got one shop on the third floor of Mid Valley." Hussein leans towards Wati, sniffs her perfume, and his heart flies to the moon.

“Okay, condom talk over. Ready to sing?” I ask.

“YESSSS!” Everybody in the room yells.

/end

Hot, sexy Chinese nightclub girl gives tips on spotting fake breasts

2011-12-08T00:03:00.000-08:00

“What a blunder I had last week,” sighs Chow Kah. He takes a long swig from his San Miguel beer-filled mug. He, Hussein and I are taking a breather after belting out six consecutive rock 'n rolls with GROs Wati and Jessica. The padded walls of the the VIP Room now ring with gossip and shop talk and confessions, both true and concocted.

“What went wrong?” asks 36-24-38-inch Jessica, seated beside him. Her arm is draped over his shoulder. She breathes heavily, having blasted with force into the mike moments ago. As she inhales, her half-exposed breasts rise as high as Mt Kinabalu; when the sex kitten exhales, they morph into Gunung Tahan – but still big enough to stir desire in any normal hot-blooded bloke.

“I’m listening, friend,” Hussein coaxes him. “Bad day in the office?”

Chow Kah lifts a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wipes his mouth. “I was in a five-star hotel spa in Bukit Bintang. The captain beckoned a group of the China, Vietnamese and Indonesian ladies for me to choose. They lined up in a row. I took a Vietnamese with big boobs. After the massage, it was time for special service. When she undressed, my heart sank. My manhood almost failed to rise to the occasion; she was almost flat chested. What the heck...She was wearing push-up bras. Cheh!”

“Sometimes, what you see is not what you get,” says Hussein. He pops open a can of Bintang Beer. Wati takes a piece of tissue and wipes the top of the beer can for him.

She chips in: “My 65-year-old atuk (grandpa) had a similar bad experience. He angkat one awek Thai (Thai girl) in an urut batin centre. Then discovered her breasts were artificial. Hard like rubber. Kasihan my atuk, main pun tak sedap, he told me.”

“Breast implants are easy to spot in the raw, “ I say, sipping my water melon juice. “There are scars underneath the breasts near the armpits.”

Chow Kah scratches his head with his forefinger. “But how do you spot fake breasts when looking at a girl fully clothed?” His lecherous sight plunges like daggers into Jessica’s cleavage. He longs to be a baby again.

“Let me give some tips”, says Jessica. “Everyone, look at my breasts.” She raises her arms above her head. Then she stretches them behind her back. “See? They change shape when I move my arms, rite? Fake breast remain the same shape.”

“In a spa, you can’t ask gurls lined for you to mirror to do those exercises, can you?” Chow Kah cracks a watermelon seed between his nicotine-stained teeth.

Jesssica continues: “There are other signs. Usually fake breasts are high up. They are usually round, very round. Natural breasts have sloped curves at the top. Also, observe whether the breasts are far apart. If the cleavage is broad, the breasts are fake.”

“I see..." Chow Kah nods his head, spits out the kuachi shells on the floor.

“Wati, yours are real ah?” Hussein asks. He tries to fondle her breasts but she, as a purveyor of sensuality but not sex, gently pushes his groping hands away. “Ling, jangan lah... (Darling, don't...)” She winks and smiles at him and shakes her breasts which wobble like jelly. “Ling, see? My nehneh are original.”

"Ah, today, I learned a new word -- nehneh." Hussein nods in appreciation. (Pixs of models for illustration only)

/end

Hot, sexy Malay nightclub girl enjoys six-inch long thingy

2011-12-04T02:01:00.001-08:00

The VIP Room in Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke is ajar. The air is pregnant with cigarette smoke. To let the stuffiness escape, I have opened the door. Chow Kah sits with his butt on the edge of the sofa, jabbing on his mobile phone. Tonight, we are early and are waiting for Hussein. GRO Wati sashays in with Jessica (the “reddest numbers” in Hot Legs), engrossed in small talk.

Kuachi and groundnut shells on the carpet crack under Wati’s high heels. Her top wraps her 38-inch bosom as tightly as a condom on a male organ. Her nipples perk under the chiffon; she is braless. Jessica looks equally ravishing. Round earrings the size of six centimetes in diametre dangle from her ear lobes. The whiff of her Opium Yves Saint Laurent stirs passion in Chow Kah's heart. Her cleavage is as deep as the Grand Canyon. They both sit down. The hems of their little skirts slip upward, briefly revealing their forbidden fruits. Wati is clad in a red G-string; Jessica, whose creamy skin can cure impotence, isn't wearing any panty.

I say to the gurls: “Please wait for Hussein. You want to eat anything?”

Wati smiles at me, shakes her head, and continues to talk with Jessica.

Chow Kah and I overhear her say: “I like those that are six inches. Not too big, not too small, just right for me. When I put my lips over it, it’s like heaven.”

Jessica giggles. “My taste is different. I’d go for the one-foot long anytime. The bigger, the better. So, how was your appointment yesterday? Were you nervous?”

“A little,” says Wati. “But he was gentle with me.”

Jessica slips off her shoes and tucks her satiny, killer legs under her buttocks. “Oh? Like how?”

“Please open wider, he coaxed me. It won’t hurt, he whispered into my ear. Just let me insert it in, and we can finish in fifteen minutes or so.” Wati crosses her legs, and the fullness of her thighs call out to Chow Kah’s lust.

Chow Kah feels the blood pounding in his manhood. Tumbling into the pit of salacity, he asks: “Wati, can we go out after closing time? How much you charge? I’m also six inches.”

Wati’s red lips spread like a blooming rose. “Huahaahaahaa...What’re you talking about? I’m not a prostitute, just a GRO, nothing more. You’re a regular here, you should know that.”

Jessica waves her forefinger. “Chow Kah, you’ve such a dirty mind.” Her shoulders shiver momentarily in uncontrollable laughter. “Even dirtier motives. Wati and I were talking about Subway sandwiches and her appointment with her dentist.”

I enlighten Chow Kah. “Yes, you can either choose the six-inch or one-foot long bread at Subway.” (Pixs of models for illustration purpose only)

/end

Ludicrous lack of addresses in "IgreenedKL" website

2011-11-30T21:25:00.001-08:00

An initiative by DBKL, "IgreenedKl" is a website highlighting more than a dozen parks in Kuala Lumpur. The site's design looks great and the pictures are fabulous (Pix above courtesy of IgreenedKL.com). Only problem: no addresses. For instance, saying Metropolitan Park -- notable for its kite-flying -- is "north of Jinjang" will never encourage anyone to go there. "IgreenedKL" may not be a tourism portal but I am flummoxed that addresses of the parks are omitted. /end

Bagan Nakhoda Omar beach akin to wasteland

2011-11-30T04:30:00.001-08:00

A few travel portals recommend Bagan Nakhoda Omar beach near Sabak Bernam for picnicking and swimming. I am appalled. See the picture above? (Pix courtesy of Rockabrilia.) You want to clamber from rock to rock? Or slosh through gooey mud? Foreigners who have been to Hawaii’s Wakoloa Beach or Philippines’ Boracay will laugh at this travel recommendation. Our East Coast beaches are certainly better than Bagan Nakhoda Omar’s strip of wasteland. /end

Sexy nightclub girl warns of entrapment by China dolls

2011-11-15T22:00:00.000-08:00

{Pixs of models for illustration purpose only]

Weeks have passed since I wrote about my tippling at Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke with Hussein – almost a clone of Bob Tutupoly in looks -- and Chow Kah, Malaysia’s pale version of ageing-cum-declining Hongkie star Leon Lai. Not that I’ve become an angelic bloke, but I had wanted to discontinue because riffraff bloggers pinched my articles, putting them in their blogs without credit to me. Why write "juicy" stuff for others to copy? I thought. After getting lambasted by me, most of these clowns have removed the plagiarized pieces. So I’ve decided to write again.

Well, tonight’s story is born on a rainy evening –- we’re in the VIP Room of Hot Legs, Jalan Bukit Bintang, brimming with lavender fragrance (the captain has sprayed air freshener) intermingling with the base notes of women’s perfumes. The women are Jessica and Wati – favourite sing-song girls of Chow Kah and Hussein respectively. Jessica is pouring Japanese Asahi for Chow Kah; Wati is cracking Shandong groundnuts between her manicured thumb and forefinger and putting them on a porcelain platter; I’m looking for the latest songs in the leather-bound song menu: these rituals are a prelude to karaoke singing.

Jessica gulps a rivulet of apple juice and begins her story-telling. “Guys, Jimmy, our mutual friend, is now a father.” She’s wearing a lacy, two-feet long dress over her five-feet-seven curvaceous body that always exposes her Victoria’s Secret when she sits.

Wati is disinterested. “So? What’s the big deal?”

Jessica nods repeatedly as she explains. "He’s 45. His son's mother is a China girl. Only 23. She measures 36-23-36. Five feet, six inches. Milky skinned. Face looks like Carina Lau in her younger days. I've seen them together before."

“Lucky man! Are they married?” Hussein asks, his right arm wrapped around the waist of Wati. Wati’s hand rests gently on his lap, creating an intimacy as powerful as black magic, assuring future repeat visits by Hussein.

“Jimmy’s married with three daughters; how can he marry this China girl?” I say, popping some pretzels into my mouth. “He’s keeping her as a mistress, rite?”

“Sort of,” says Jessica. “He’s happy and sad at the same time. In a predicament, he told me. The son was not in his plan during his short fling with this prostitute from China.”

“What happened?” asks Hussein. “The GFE got the better of him huh?”

“Well, a year after this China doll returned to Guilin, she called him. She had not kept in touch with him for several months. She broke the news she had given birth to his child. A few days later, Jimmy received a digital photo in his email. His eyes widened when he saw the baby –- it was a spitting image of him. The girl claims she has no money to raise the baby. She will dump him in an orphanage, unless Jimmy helps her.

“Now, the poor fella’s paying maintenance for his illegitimate son. Last I heard from him was he’s planning to see his son. But first, he needs to create an excuse to his missus to go to China alone. He loves children, can’t blame him.”

Wati sips her air bandung. “This guy’s life is screwed up. Kasihan. How could he be so careless?”

“Actually, he had been tricked, he told me,” says Jessica. “Upon thinking back, now he realized the reason for the girl’s odd behavior before their intimate sessions. She would always go to the bathroom to get condoms. Jimmy’s a lau jiao [veteran] in whoring. He knows condoms are placed in the side-table drawer. Or the girl carries them in her handbag. With this girl, he got careless and didn’t think much of her behaviour. A few times, he saw sewing needles on the marble sink in the bathroom. Can you put two and two together?”

“The girl knows Jimmy’s well-off. She used needles to pierce holes in the condoms,” Hussein speculates, “so that she could get pregnant and blackmail him for maintenance.”

“Pandai!” Wati smiles. Smart.

/end

Yasser Arafat was a corrupt terrorist

2011-11-12T05:07:00.001-08:00

This posting is a day later, but never mind. Yesterday (11th November, 2004) was the seventh death anniversary of Yasser Arafat, then leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organization – a goddamned terrorist in the same ilk as Osama Laden. Arafat had been linked to the killing of 16 innocent Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics 1972 – which he denied -- and countless other terrorist bombings and plane hijackings. Under the guise of freedom fighter for the Palestinians, he purportedly amassed a personal wealth estimated at US$1.3 billion as at 2002.(There's no smoke without fire.) I grew up with him, so to speak -- whenever, I read newpaper reports on terrorist attacks in the 1960's and 70's -- he would often be accused as the perpetrator. Denied he always did, of course.

/end

Why is KLIA Transit's train schedule in military time?

2011-11-12T02:56:00.000-08:00

http://www.kliaekspres.com/erlsb/LCCT/LCCTSchedule/tabid/214/Default.aspx]

Why is KLIA Transit using military time in its train schedules? This 24-hour system does not correspond to the analogue clock. For dumbos like me and others, it is frustrating at best and incomprehensible at worst.

/end

As a writer, you know your boss is stupid when...

2011-11-07T21:47:00.001-08:00

As a writer or editor, you know your boss has more money than brains when he or she instructs you to:

Use more adjectives in your writing. (“Tell, don’t show” not “Show, Don’t Tell").

Get your graphic artist to design an in-house Accredited Press Card.

Write reviews of your own company’s annuals and send them to newspapers for publication.

Create a fake circulation breakdown to solicit sales of ad-space (Are advertisers so dumb?)

Only two of my former bosses have earned my respect; namely, the late Mr S.H. Tan, then editor of The Malay Mail and Mr Emmanuel Joseph, then Director of Publishing at Singtel. They knew their stuff; they didn’t issue silly instructions.

[As a side-note, years ago, my buddy Yassin, was interviewed by the CEO of a newbie publishing house in Kelana Jaya. "What's the objective of the magazine?" he asked. Answer: "To promote world peace." Instantly, in his mind, he didn't want the job. A mutual friend of mine and Yassin took up the offer, warmed the editor's chair for two months and left, unable to get his salary from this RM2 paid-up-capital company.]

/end

Matador U’s maverick streak turns me off

2011-11-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Matador U, based in California, is an online learning centre offering courses on travel writing and photography. The site also contains articles that purportedly help you become a better travel writer. I have read all of them, and they mostly wasted my time though I picked up a few useful nuggets among the dirt. A few articles are written in a convoluted style, are padded, and the how-to parts are sketchy. In others, big words such as “conflated”, “obfuscated” and “verisimilitude” plus a talking-down-to-readers tone irritated me. A “smart-alecky” attitude lurks in another piece as well as hinting that enrolling in Matador U’s course will up your travel writing skills. I am turned off by the maverick style of the site’s contents.

/end

Go to Hell, you copycats!

2011-10-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

[Pixs: Ustaz Nor Amin Sayani Zainal of Johor, a copycat who's a disgrace to his alma mater]

All of you below are THRASHY bloggers. You have lifted my article titled "Hot Sexy Malay Girls: Karaoke Lounges to Book Them for a Fling" (and others) and inserted them in your blogs without attribution to me.

1) jomsumpit. blogspot -- kamu pergi jahanam lah!

2) impianteruna. blogspot.com - tomorrow you'll die in car accident lah!

3) asshafiee. blogspot.com -- you'll die of penis cancer!

4) webmarhaem. blogspot -- mu pergi makan najis lah! pondan bodoh!

5) Ustaz Nor Amin Sayani Zainal -- dei! mu ada letak gambar sendiri di blog
tetapi "mencuri" artikel saya? tak tahu malu kah? kamu terima ijazah dari
Universiti Peniru kah? U ini Ustaz yang memalukan agama Islam sahaja!

6) penjagaketuananmelayu.blogspot.com -- Mu ini Melayu yang memalukan bangsa
sendiri; tak ada kebolehan tulis artikel asal tapi tahu tiru sahaja!!

7) feldachemplakbarat.blogspot.com -- mu betul-betul minda orang kampung! Peniru!

8) Johnny Lee -- you are just a shithead! (Thanks, Peter, for removing the posting in the forum which is actually my aforementioned article).

You want to sue me for libel, Ustaz? I'll counter-sue for plagiarism. I'll also make sure our court case is reported in every English language, Malay language, Chinese language and Tamil newspaper.

I repeat in Bahasa Melayu: Saya juga akan memastikan kes mahkahmah kami dilaporkan dalam tiap-tiap suratkhabar Bahasa Inggeris, Bahasa Melayu, Bahasa Cina dan Bahasa Tamil.

/end

Road with vulgar name

2011-10-03T19:50:00.000-07:00

Announcing this destination to a taxi driver may meet with communication breakdown.

/end

Are Malay craftsmen and architects of mosques inferior to their Middle Eastern brethren?

2011-09-24T22:59:00.001-07:00

[Pixs courtesy of selimiyemosque.net]

I have been researching the architectural elements of major mosques in our country, in particular, Kuala Lumpur. The results have been disappointing. Even with mosques having official websites, a lot of information is splashed on their management, activities and public facilities - none on their architectural elements. On the other hand, take a look at the websites of a few major mosques in Middle East – they are jam-packed with absorbing information about their architecture. An example is the website of Selimiye Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey: selimiyemosque.net.

Why the dearth of information on the architecture of our grand mosques? Is it because we are ashamed they were designed by foreign architects or locals who borrowed ideas from Middle Eastern mosques?

Are we trying to hide from visitors that craftsmen from Uzbekistan, Iran and other Middle East countries created the adornments in our grander mosques?

Do the authorities consider Malay craftsmen as inferior to their Middle Eastern brethren that we must engage the latter? Shouldn't our local talent be nurtured and given the opportunity to display their potential? Talking economics, it’s also a loss in foreign exchange to use foreign craftsmen.

Charity begins at home, so priority should be given to Malays to build our mosques with a Malaysian identity. Arabs don’t come here to view modified “replicas” of grander mosques they have at home. They want to see Malaysian mosques designed by Malays.

Probably, the only grand mosque in Kuala Lumpur that is truly Malaysian in design is Masjid Negara. Incidentally, I want to put on record that British architect Howard Ashley was also part of the architectural team of Masjid Negara; the other two members were Baharuddin Kassim and Hisham Albakri.

/end

The silent preacher of Seoul

2011-09-23T23:49:00.000-07:00

[Pixs copyright Ewe Paik Leong]

The preacher cometh in many forms; not necessarily as a pastor, minister or priest. On my recent visit to Seoul, I saw this man holding a placard outside the Dongwha Duty Free complex. After taking photographs of him, I asked whether he spoke English. He was either dumb, deaf or didn't understand English; he said not a word, but the back of his placard in English said everything.

/end

Go to Hell, you copycats!

2011-09-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

[Pixs: Ustaz Nor Amin Sayani Zainal of Johor, a copycat who's a disgrace to his alma mater]

All of you below are THRASHY bloggers. You have lifted my article titled "Hot Sexy Malay Girls: Karaoke Lounges to Book Them for a Fling" (and others) and inserted them in your blogs without attribution to me.

1) jomsumpit. blogspot -- kamu pergi jahanam lah!

2) impianteruna. blogspot.com - tomorrow you'll die in car accident lah!

3) asshafiee. blogspot.com -- you'll die of penis cancer!

4) webmarhaem. blogspot -- mu pergi makan najis lah! pondan bodoh!

5) Ustaz Nor Amin Sayani Zainal -- dei! mu ada letak gambar sendiri di blog
tetapi "mencuri" artikel2 saya? tak tahu malu kah? kamu terima ijazah dari
Universiti Peniru kah? U ini Ustaz yang memalukan agama Islam sahaja!

6) penjagaketuananmelayu.blogspot.com -- mu ini Melayu yang memalukan bangsa
sendiri; tak ada kebolehan tulis artikel asal tapi tahu tiru sahaja!!

7) feldachemplakbarat.blogspot.com -- mu betul-betul minda orang kampung! Peniru!

8) Johnny Lee -- you are just a shithead! (Thanks, Peter, for removing the posting in the forum which is actually my aforementioned article).

You want to sue me for libel, Ustaz? I'll counter-sue for plagiarism. I'll also make sure our court case is reported in every English language, Malay language, Chinese language and Tamil newspaper.

I repeat in Bahasa Melayu: Saya juga akan memastikan kes mahkahmah kami dilaporkan dalam tiap-tiap suratkhabar Bahasa Inggeris, Bahasa Melayu, Bahasa Cina dan Bahasa Tamil.

/end

Museum of Sex & Health on Jeju Island a must-visit for sexology aficionados

2011-09-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

[Pixs courtesy of The Museum of Sex & Health]

Why is Jeju in Korea often referred to as “Honeymoon Island”? Probably because it is home to the world’s largest sex museum. Indeed, the Museum of Sex & Health at the foot of Mt. Halla is a must-visit spot for impotent men, frigid women and sexology aficionados. Sadly, it is seldom on the itinerary of tour packages. Shaped like a pyramid, the two-level building is divided into two main sections: Sex Education Hall and Sex Culture Hall. The latter comprises the Japanese Sex Culture Hall, Peruvian Sex Culture Hall, European Sex Culture Hall and Chinese Sex Culture Hall. The Sex Educational Hall gives an insight into the structure and functions of the sex organs, conception and pregnancy to delivery of baby, including displays of sanitary napkins from all over the world and much, much more. Mini statues in various positions of sexual intercourse should fan the flames of passion in honey-mooners as well as teach naive men and women a thing or two. Also, the erotic sculptures in the museum’s compound are guaranteed to expunge your innocence. Indeed, sex can be beautiful, healthy and enjoyable; for others it can also be taboo and shameful.

/end

Air turbulence almost caused me to suffer a burst bladder

2011-09-05T06:38:00.000-07:00

Ngggg...Ngggg...Ngggg... The engine of the Korean Air jet that I was aboard was humming loudly. It was near-impossible to sleep. Earlier, my meal had been washed down with orange juice and pure water, and now, with a full bladder, I ambled towards the toilet. Suddenly, an announcement in Korean language blared, followed by its English translation: “Ladies and gentleman, we are experiencing air turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.” A cabin attendant ushered me back to my seat. Thirty minutes passed. The plane wobbled continually. By now my bladder was almost bursting, what with my enlarged prostate pressing against it. I got up and was about to scram to the loo when the same lady -- whose neck was wrung by a stiff scarf angled ridiculously -- appeared from nowhere and blocked the aisle: “Sir, it’s velly dungerous; you must return to your seat.” The bad weather continued to wobble the jet. Another 30 minutes passed. It was impossible to hold my pee any more. I got up but was blocked by the same woman. I told her firmly I had no choice but to use the washroom. Alas...she relented and allowed me to relieve myself. Makes me wonder whether stewardesses have the right to prevent passengers from using the loo when an aircraft is being struck by bad weather?

/end