<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653</id><updated>2012-01-14T07:13:01.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hating IKJ</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-1082143749660216323</id><published>2010-04-03T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T11:13:08.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salted Green Peas</title><content type='html'>I turn 21 in exactly 72 days.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, lets sum up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm still fat, I'm still clueless...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I'm still, alone...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not in a ooo I'm so lonely kind of way...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But in a omg I'm turning 21 and the only person that I have is, me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh. Great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its been 6 years and I'm still 15.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yay me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-1082143749660216323?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/1082143749660216323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=1082143749660216323' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1082143749660216323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1082143749660216323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2010/04/salted-green-peas.html' title='Salted Green Peas'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-7106373055889335332</id><published>2010-01-14T08:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T09:58:17.681-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Honey Cherry Tomatoes</title><content type='html'>Do you think, if I scream at my bloated stomach to flatten down, 60 times a minute, my dreams would hit reality? Because frankly speaking, my large-framed body is in excrutiating pain from the lack of food. Let's face it, I'm practically giant sized, and my stomach lives up to that expectation. I just, want to be thin. To fit in those vintage t-shirts, to not hide all that horrid fat under sweaters and cardigans. To be able to wear basic tees without being infected by the fear of being snarled by every person, disgusted at my disproportionate body. Salads and fruits and a chapati a day must not be "healthy" for a six foot tall man. You need to eat more, the family says. I say, in my heart obviously, by doing that, eating more, I'll look exactly like you, all of you. God. I miss those days where I could eat a twiggie without wanting to kill myself, or toast in the morning, or a bar of chocolate without studying the nutrition facts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some might claim I'm suffering from delusions, what, with my admittedly already underweight frame. But hey, the mind wants what it wants. Screw that, let's be honest for once. The mind wants, what it truly, does not want. Take for example two people with four children who are obviously out of love, and we're talking borderline hatred here, but still manage to stay together, and for what, because the fucking heart wants what it fucking wants? No, it's merely not accepting what should be accepted, the truth; that divorce amounts to public humiliation and much sneering from people who are probably stuck in some messed up marriage themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another example; a person so scared of falling in love, he falls for those he knows would only reduce his urge of ever loving. Cause hey, why suffer the pain of being alone, unable to love without breaking the boudaries of political correctness and social, moral obligations or whatever. One fake, unhealthy, and doomed relationship should be enough to kill the existence of any form of love inside you, but two of these, and you're basically romatically impotent. Oh how painful it is to close your eyes and see that person, that sadly, imaginary person who makes you ache with joy and feel pathetic sadness at the same time. You don't exist. Not in this world, in this surrounding. Even if you did, life itself would be at liberty, because when has going against the norm ever led to anything remotely good? Jack died in freezing water, Henry's whore was killed for abnormally being unable to have kids, and he too was killed just because he fell in love with him. These might come from movies we all want to not want to watch, but hey, they make perfect sense. But shouldn't love trump life? What are those (aforementioned) parents doing, sticking together when they know it's totally over. Well, I wouldn't know, I wasn't made yet, but I think, at one point, even if it was for a mere second, they might have loved each other. But no one said that would be permanent, heck I know its not permanent, I've had it on various occassions, and on all those occassions, "it" faded away the moment I realised how wrong right could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I love you both, I really do. Yes, I plan on leaving all of you the moment I gain a life, but I'll always love you. Some retard came up with the saying; "love is unconditional". Fuck that. Love is solely based on conditions. I love you, but only with sex. I love you my dear, but only because people are watching. I love you ever so dearly, but only because you're the only one who would love me back. I love you more than anything, but only because you made me. I. Love. You. But, fucking but this and fucking but that. Is love ever enough? Enough for, anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I'll pretend I love you, and after I mentally abuse you, I'll beg for forgiveness, so I could mess with your stupid, pathetic head again, next week. In the mean time, I'll just insanely throw books across the room just because you touched my stuff, and threathen to kill you because you dropped my cheap laptop. And because I love how much I don't love any of you, I'll critisize your every move, because I'm always right, and so, no, you can't watch The Nanny or Seinfield because they're Jews, and we Muslims hate Jews! And of course I'm saying all this, all the while not really knowing why we're supposed to hate Jews or even worshipping Allah the way a person protecting Islam should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, darling. In return, I'll pretend that I'm over you, and everytime you hurt me, you, hurt, me, I'll rant and talk shit about you, just to hide that secret, that secret that nobody must ever know; how i love you with all my heart, and how my life would be meaningless without you, how I'll never let you go and how I spend every second of my empty life praying that you, will never, ever, let me go. In the mean time, I'll bitch about my pathetic life, seeking sympathy from anyone who will listen, and even those who would not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So who's more foolish? The Pretenders? The Delusional? The One in Denial?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all stupid. Plain fucking stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s: I love you. And yes, I'm only saying this because this is what people do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With &lt;3 , IKJ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-7106373055889335332?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/7106373055889335332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=7106373055889335332' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/7106373055889335332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/7106373055889335332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2010/01/honey-cherry-tomatoes.html' title='Honey Cherry Tomatoes'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-217808446567862500</id><published>2009-12-14T03:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T04:58:07.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weet-bix</title><content type='html'>I say this very rarely. Because between feeling sorry for myself and all this studying crap, I hadn't the time. As much as I bitch about it, my life, doesn't suck that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great childhood, minus the "upbringing" part, of course. School was a little rocky, but nonetheless bearable. And now, I'm 20. And apart from the fact that I'm 20, my life is, well, just how I hoped it would be. Money, car, apartment, clothes, decent future...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, don't get me wrong, it could be better. As I've grown, I can't believe I'm saying this, older, I've learnt to handle things quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They mess up, I run. The beauty of being 20 and not living with your family is that, when you don't need a family, you know you can drive 96km away and go home. Home. Let's be honest, growing up, I never had one. This room, with its crappy floor, and anything-but-comfortable bed, feels more like home than that enormous double-storey ever felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learnt to cover up all my physical imperfections, learnt to be fake, learnt to take charge, and heck. Learnt to just agree. Learnt to bottle up. Learnt to settle every problem by puncturing my lungs and widening the possibility of cancer. But most importantly, I've learnt to appreciate everything I have, this life, and evrything in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the simple things like, health, and a car, and money, and body shop, and new cardigans etc. I'm not picky, and no, I don't complain [much], as long as I earned it, I would learn to love it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my life could be perfect. In fact, it's close-to-perfect as it is. The thing is. I've got all this baggage, unwanted baggage. It took me a while to realise, all this sacrifices, and for what, just so the million people around me would feel happy. Screw that. As stupid as this sounds, I want for one second of my life, to do something for me, without worrying about wailing mothers or suicidal fathers or disturbed brothers and most definitely, pathetic peers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not pointing fingers. But thats only because after much trying, I've come to accept that no matter how hard I point at your facebook pictures, you're just unable to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I don't know where this is going. So let me sum it up. After a gazillion years of feeling unworthy for anything, anyone, I'm happy to finally, god finally, be strong enough, and stand above all of your manipulating pathethic heads, and smile and whisper silently in my heart;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm just to good for all of you... Always was, and always will..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Long gone are those dreadful days where I would curl up in my bed&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;screaming silently at god for the imaginary burdens imposed. I don't glare at the advertisements for other universities [private of course] and literally ache seeing the life I could have had, I don't burst out bawling with tears everytime I see images of the life that has been unkindly opressed from me. I don't bow my head just because a zit decided to plant itself on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But baggages. These, well, "things", pulling me down, dragging me along with their somber lives, how the hell do I get rid of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUST. IMPROVE. SELF. LEARN. TO. SAY. FUCKING. NO. DIE. BITCH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DIE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-217808446567862500?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/217808446567862500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=217808446567862500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/217808446567862500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/217808446567862500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/12/weet-bix.html' title='Weet-bix'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-2291895619544104580</id><published>2009-10-25T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T16:40:21.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pancakes</title><content type='html'>Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I've been absent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you could just give me a break, for even one mere day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll be a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-2291895619544104580?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/2291895619544104580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=2291895619544104580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/2291895619544104580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/2291895619544104580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/10/pancakes.html' title='Pancakes'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-5067390235841957362</id><published>2009-07-21T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T14:29:05.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kit Kat</title><content type='html'>This might sound stupid, but, as the Malays would say it, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;who's cares&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, God hates me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so maybe God blessed me with my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ehem&lt;/span&gt;, good looks and personality. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Narcissistic? Me? What? No...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God also deprived me from &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;mathematical intelligence&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't a big deal back when I was young. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Er&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured, so I can't do maths, I'll just study law then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being 20 and all, I have finally come to realise that, my life basically sucks, because of my mathematical impairment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example of how much my life sucks, because of maths;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If I was good in maths, then I wouldn't have to study law, which would mean that I would have never had to go to MMU, which would mean that I would have never had to take mooting as a subject, which would mean I would have never had to study maths, AND chemistry, in class ever again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kon Fatt Kiew Rubber Scrap&lt;/span&gt; crap case really ruined my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;X-?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;X = 30.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;HAH?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is this mathematical calculation process called?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Erk, erm.... Bumi Sebagai Sfera? No no... Penaakulan Mantik? Pemfaktoran? Ungkapan Algebra?????????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water = H2O.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;H+ + O2-    -------&gt; H2O.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;What Apa???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is the name of this process?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know I know. Proses Penurunan? Proses Penyulingan??? Elektrolisis? Pengoksidaan? Penyahtinjaan??? ARGKH SCREW IT! &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;PROSES PEMBIAKAN&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you see it now??? I finally know who to blame!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family sucks.... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAMN YOU MATHS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My money is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;menipis&lt;/span&gt;-ing...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; DAMN YOU MATHS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That annoying bitch is ruining my life, by being alive... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAMN. YOU. MATHS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memorial. Bundle. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAAAYYYYYYYUUUUUM YOU MATHHHHHHS!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bye bai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xShad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p/s: I love looking at my pictures on other people's blogs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-5067390235841957362?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/5067390235841957362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=5067390235841957362' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5067390235841957362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5067390235841957362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/07/kit-kat.html' title='Kit Kat'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-8899700940550978326</id><published>2009-07-13T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T11:03:07.524-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jello</title><content type='html'>Girrrl, I know you di'nt say what I think you said.&lt;br /&gt;Ma name iz Shontelle and immabout to wipe yo skinny white ass on da flo.&lt;br /&gt;Girrl hold ma hooped earrings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, if you haven't heard, I've finally decided that, I, am straight. On most occasions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and my beautiful life sucks. Big time. But hey, at least I'm smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait, my CGPA dropped &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tergolek-golek&lt;/span&gt; last trimester. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. At least I'll do better this trimester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait, have you met my friend, Mr. Mooting? Owh, no? Well this is Mr. Mooting. He doesn't know it yet, but he's gonna destroy my life. Yesterday, Mr. Mooting asked me a question. It was so fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How do you interpret interpretation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG, soooo coooool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer... Prepare yourself. Shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;Interpretation can be interpreted by interpreting the many forms of interpretation it has. According to the interpretation of interpretation, interpretation can be described by interpreting the interpretation interpreted through the interpretation of the interpretation of the interpreted interpretation of its many interpretations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's bull crap like this that really gets me thinking, what the effing hell am I doing with my life. While other 20 year-olds are being 20, I'm stuck being 45. Heck, I've actually got more issues than most 45 year-olds. The family crap, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Trying to interpret interpretation, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Financial instability, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Reading thick, heavy, and artistically retarded books (refer to the covers of all our text books), &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Knowing the difference between the murder and culpable homicide, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Knowing how to get a divorce, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;check&lt;/span&gt;. Tired of living, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;ch-ch-ch-check&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is, my life isn't that bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's horrible and very, very unbearable. But it's actually quiet ok. I mean sure I may lash out and bitch about it, but I still want to live, and one day, see Kris Allen &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[lalalalala]&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell am I talking about. God, I should've have studied journalism instead. I mean, I'd like to think I would make a good writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... and as I sat there, staring faithfully through the large glass window, with coffee in one hand, and the other pressed across my forehead, I began to question myself. Why can't I be like those people out there? That family looking ever so gay, and those group of homosexuals looking ever so gay. How gay it made me feel to see the the gayness spread across that gleeful day, with the shimmering lights shimmering as it shimmered across the shiny floor that shimmered. And then I saw it, that of what I have feared for for a lifetime of fear. My heart began to quietly whisper a loud scream. My body began to tremble as the sheer intensity of my tense vibes began to tremble the veins in my trembling body that trembled ever so violently. I wanted to scream aloud, inside my own secured mentality, so that no one would hear, as everyone listened. I gathered whatever courage my trembling body could offer, being the sole offeror of my offering self. I WILL NOT BOW DOWN TO YOU! YOU WILL NOT ASSAULT ME. TODAY, I FEAR NOT OF YOU, PERFUME AVENUE! ...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, now I remember, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I suck at writing&lt;/span&gt;. So law it is... Mooting, and everything else it has to offer/offor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-8899700940550978326?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/8899700940550978326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=8899700940550978326' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8899700940550978326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8899700940550978326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/07/jello.html' title='Jello'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-2565624279754942001</id><published>2009-06-11T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T10:05:28.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Biskut Bantal</title><content type='html'>Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-2565624279754942001?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/2565624279754942001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=2565624279754942001' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/2565624279754942001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/2565624279754942001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/06/biskut-bantal.html' title='Biskut Bantal'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-4767176771944445883</id><published>2009-05-29T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T09:45:45.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Roti Pisang</title><content type='html'>With the finals over, I finally got rid of that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I-wanna-puke-every-5-minutes&lt;/span&gt; feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past week has been, erm, I'll define it as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bittersweet&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought Contract Law was bound to slaughter my CGPA, along came Malaysian Legal System, sneering as it sung silently in its demented soul &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;na na nana na, you're gonna fail me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;na na nana na&lt;/span&gt;" thing was a little too much, even for me. But my point is, I think I speak for everyone when I say we overlooked Malaysian Legal System. I answered 2 questions, averagely. Totally screwed the "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;which court?&lt;/span&gt;" question, and I think the darling lecturer would be literally rolling on the floor with laughter screaming &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;this idiot thinks he's a law student&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!"&lt;/span&gt; when she reads my "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;advocate &amp;amp; solicitor&lt;/span&gt;" answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Owh I'm so uninspired. I promised myself I wouldn't rant on this blog. I didn't want to end up writing posts about how my day went, how I'm feeling and what not. I'll let the bunch of people who are way more interesting, fun and cooler than me to right those posts. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[yes Lynette, Ruby, NKC, Rishi, Joanne, I'm talking about you guys...]&lt;/span&gt; But look at me now, contradicting my very own self, being the hypocrite most people say I am...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok then. I'll stop...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found you back, and I always knew I would, because I never stopped caring for you. It was nice talking to you again. It was nice seeing again, even though it was only for a mere half hour...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes feel that you see right through me. You know me more than anyone ever did, or even ever will. The fact that I can't do what I do best; I can't fake a smile, I can't lie, I can't even be happy without you not noticing it, it scares me to death. But it's amazing how after three weeks of silence, you still manage to say aloud the things which would kill me if the world knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was that simple sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"... Anda, even though you hate each other, you can't deny the fact that the both of you have the same mindset..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've denied it many times in my head. Just because we share the same birthday, it doesn't mean we are the same. But the truth is apparent. I know it is. I just thought, if I kept on denying it in my head, I would eventually never think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was packing the few belongings I had kept in my room. As I picked up my foundation notes, images of the young[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;er&lt;/span&gt;] me flashed across my eyes. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God I can't believe I actually wore that. God I miss those times. God I miss him. God I miss her. God I miss the way things were...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it how you will find the most nostalgic items when you're about to leave a place. I was dusting the shelf when I found that blue book. It stood out awkwardly beneath the extra Federal Constitution I had bought and my most favourite book, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where Rainbows End&lt;/span&gt;. I tried to hide the smile that was forming in my face. I failed miserably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, together with my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"1Malaysia"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[my landlord had called my group of multiracial friends as 1Malaysia, which made me think&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "...if only she knew the things we say to eachother..."&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt; friends, I cleaned my new apartment, though it was Katherina who actually did most, if not all, of the cleaning. While cleaning the apartment, my new housemate, Su, told me someone had given him curtains for his room. I told him I'd already bought the fabric, and was waiting for my dear mother to sew it into curtains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... I asked him what colour was his curtains. He said black and white.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... I got excited and screeched, "OMG MINE TOO!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours later, he told me she had given him the curtains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said, we are very much alike, no matter how much we deny it. And I'm not talking about same choice of colours when it comes to curtains. Or same taste in food. Or being born on the same day. Or both being unbelievably stubborn. I'm talking about literally being the same person, but in two separate bodies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't hate you. I never did. And I don't mean half the things I say about you. How could I. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hating you would mean hating myself.&lt;/span&gt; And I don't think my ego could handle that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I have moved apartments? I went from living in the coolest place in MMU to the place where no person wants to live. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dodgy&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the ghetto&lt;/span&gt;, people call it. But the way I see it, isolation from MMU? Allah has truly answered my prayers. Thank you Kai Choy and Kat. And thank you Izzat and Su. For all the help, despite my over the top demeanor, lack of masculine strength and argumentative nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to Rathi and Adiba &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[cherish this moment for eternity, because I'll never ever be this nice ever again, not even on your, and by "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt;" I mean "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt;", wedding days]&lt;/span&gt;, 2 years later, and massive changes everywhere, it's nice to know that we have beaten all odds, and remained together. I love you both, even more than my beauty products.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SiALvHcekoI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hS7CSPjaFlg/s1600-h/R.i.a.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SiALvHcekoI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hS7CSPjaFlg/s400/R.i.a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341282062141657730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And people laugh when I tell them I should've taken Creative Multimedia instead of Law? I totally don't get it. Jealous bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taa, happy hols.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-4767176771944445883?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/4767176771944445883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=4767176771944445883' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4767176771944445883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4767176771944445883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/roti-pisang.html' title='Roti Pisang'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SiALvHcekoI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hS7CSPjaFlg/s72-c/R.i.a.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-9132870849503424747</id><published>2009-05-22T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T04:48:52.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubur Kacang Hijau</title><content type='html'>The horror that was contract law is over. For now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countless of hours, a river of ink, a whole tree of paper...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And did it pay off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Irshad v. Contract Law II BNL 1624&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Court was in favour of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;defendant&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It amazes me how many things you can do in three hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch a decent movie.&lt;br /&gt;Imagine walking on the beach with Kris Allen.&lt;br /&gt;Go back to your hometown.&lt;br /&gt;Imagine you and Kris Allen embracing on your wedding day.&lt;br /&gt;Dance in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Astaka&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Ponder upon Kris Allen's pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sit, and stare blankly into the papers in front of you, with a pen in one hand, and the Contracts Act in the other, while thinking to yourself &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"oh shit, i now this case, I read it like an hour ago, oh shit, oh shit, Yong Enting v someth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;ing? eh no, Kau Daw what??? or was it Yong Yung Ung Kai??"&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Shb2OzbBA5I/AAAAAAAAAW0/JKeZFGqbwmQ/s1600-h/Kris+Allen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 188px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Shb2OzbBA5I/AAAAAAAAAW0/JKeZFGqbwmQ/s400/Kris+Allen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338725142476424082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. At least Kris Allen won &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Boo you overrated-screeching-raccoon-Adam-Lambert)&lt;/span&gt;. I hate his &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Kris Allen's)&lt;/span&gt; bitchy wife. Urgkh, some people have all the luck. She's married to Kris Allen. And I'm a failing first-year law undergrad. Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatev. Imma read some French.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Au revoir. J'aime grands mammelles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(I think I may have an addiction towards Kris Allen, and I think, it might just be a little too harmful.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-9132870849503424747?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/9132870849503424747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=9132870849503424747' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/9132870849503424747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/9132870849503424747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/bubur-kacang-hijau.html' title='Bubur Kacang Hijau'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Shb2OzbBA5I/AAAAAAAAAW0/JKeZFGqbwmQ/s72-c/Kris+Allen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-8444086417604546414</id><published>2009-05-16T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T12:40:08.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Layer Tea</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a break from the books, though I probably don't deserve it, since I spent the whole day obsessing over Grey's Anatomy's Season 5 finale, screeching &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"omg george dah mati izzie pon! they actually died!"&lt;/span&gt; to anyone who would listen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my second first day of school as if it was yesterday. I had moved from Batu Pahat, Johor to Sydney, a move that I never really realised as life changing, until I grew much older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was. Standing in the office of my new primary school, looking at my mother signing all sorts of documents, while fidgeting and biting my finger nails &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;[a habit I have ceased to continue tyvm]&lt;/span&gt;. My first impression, Camdenville Public School was a lot different from Sekolah Kebangsaan Temenggung Ibrahim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sent to my classroom by the bubbly office lady, whose name I have sadly forgotten. I was put in Year 1 Purple. As I entered the class, I could feel everyone's eyes glaring at me, almost, burning my skin with the sheer intensity. I was scared, and my eyes began to water immediately. I turned around, looked at my mother, and though I said no word whatsoever, I knew my mother could hear my screams of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"mak! alang nak balik malaysia!"&lt;/span&gt;. Then, Miss Elizabeth gave me a snack-sized Sneakers chocolate bar. And the kids whom I had mere minutes ago feared, came nearer to me with honest smiles. I knew at that exact instance, the years to come would be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day, I went back home feeling happy. Leaving Malaysia did not seem so horrible after all. As I entered my house, I heard the laughter of children coming from across my house. Unbeknownst by them, I peeped through their gate and saw 4 kids. I immediately recognised one of them. She was in my school, and we were in the same year, though not in the same class. Soon, she became my &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;best childhood friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next few years, we did everything together. We were more than friends, we were neighbours and almost family in fact. I remember those silly memories, when we would play with teddy bears, for hours at times, and sing out loud the latest Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys or B*Witched tunes. We even built our own &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"clubhouse"&lt;/span&gt; using bedsheets and boxes in the Tafe College across the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years had passed, and the time I had dreaded arrived. Our time in Sydney had come to an end, and Malaysia was calling, forcing us to return. Though I had stopped school a week earlier, I begged my father to allow me to got to the school prom or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"disco"&lt;/span&gt; as they called it. Julie's sister, Mimi, picked me up from the temporary place I was staying, while waiting for my flight the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the school prom/disco, I remember my Year 2 teacher, Miss Annette, telling me &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"when you first came here, I remembered that you were dying to go back to Malaysia, and now, you're literally begging to stay..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Julie for the last time that night. We promised to keep in touch, and be best friends no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But an ocean away proved too far a distant for us. 2 letters. That was all the contact we had since that night. 2 short, letters...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been 9 years since I left Sydney. I am glad to say that I have adapted well, though it hasn't been a smooth journey. I have since started a new life. I am a Malay. A Malaysian. And what happened 9 years ago seems like an unrealistic dream, almost fantasy-like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what, though I'm not a firm believer of miracles or fate, I must say, what happened &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;last year&lt;/span&gt; was unbelievable, and nothing short of a &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;[forgive me for being cliche]&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miracle&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found Julie on Facebook. Yes, I found my best childhood friend on Facebook. And we now keep in touch every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how much she has grown, which made me realise how much I have grown... But it's even more amazing that 9 years after, I actually found her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly those dreams seem real after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong...&lt;br /&gt;I'm not being sentimental. I actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; have a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not proud of it, but I'll be the first to admit that I do have a tendency of losing friends. Friends who were close to me, and whom I loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though as so it may be, Julie is solid proof, that as easy as it is for me to lose a friend, I can also find him/her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have faith in you. And I have faith in us. You know me, and for me to have "faith" is a, dare I say it, miracle. You're right, it's no one's fault. We just, went in different directions, and lost each other in the process. I miss you. You're my friend, and my family, and of course I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep searching for you, till God, or whatever force that led me to you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guides me back to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night, Shad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s: Kris Allen, you rock. I love you. Please win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-8444086417604546414?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/8444086417604546414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=8444086417604546414' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8444086417604546414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8444086417604546414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/3-layer-tea.html' title='3 Layer Tea'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-8315835267296135536</id><published>2009-05-14T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T00:35:14.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bread and Jam</title><content type='html'>I don't need your hand.&lt;br /&gt;You'll only pull me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save your breath.&lt;br /&gt;Don't waste your time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-8315835267296135536?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/8315835267296135536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=8315835267296135536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8315835267296135536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8315835267296135536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/bread-and-jam.html' title='Bread and Jam'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-8279992933876165077</id><published>2009-05-08T13:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T00:00:48.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bottled Water</title><content type='html'>I was awakened in the most horrid of ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me 18 years to find you. And a 3 word text to lose you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-8279992933876165077?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/8279992933876165077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=8279992933876165077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8279992933876165077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8279992933876165077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/bottled-water.html' title='Bottled Water'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-6123933167590478025</id><published>2009-05-08T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T12:54:58.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slurpee</title><content type='html'>I shaved my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel lighter. Ok. Duhh. But yeah, its much easier to study and what not. What the hell do you know. You've never tried it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's better than seeing your bestest friend on a Friday evening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met Siti today. Yay me. So after 50 hints, I finally told her. Telling her, my bestest friend &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;di muka bumi ini&lt;/span&gt;, made it real, made it, hmmm, official. I don't feel like I'm hiding anything anymore, which feels great, because the whole secrecy thing was hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Siti...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both know you know that I know you know he likes you. And he probably knows that you know that he likes you too. And I know you like him, just as he knows. And yeah, I guess deep down inside even you know that he knows that you like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confusing much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its sad that I'm not the most important man [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;man ke?&lt;/span&gt;] in your life anymore, but he seems well mannered, and as long as he doesn't say the "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" word, you've got my approval. But for Pete's sake, just admit it to each other already...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, some &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;important rules&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) Even though you've got him now, I'm still your bestestest friend, and I won't accept "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tak bole kawan dengan Gorgeous Shad sebab die lelaki bla bla bla&lt;/span&gt;". We're not friends, we're family, and I would die instantly if I didn't have you. So don't ditch me, and don't die, ever. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2) And we still have to meet, like, everytime we're both in Seremban.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(3) And everytime you go out with him, and I'm there, I'll stand between the both of you, just cause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(4) And when you guys get married, right up to the exact moment the both of you are declared husband and wife, I'll sit between the both of you, just cause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(5) And you have to reply all my messages, and answer all my dramatic phone calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud of you Siti. I truly am...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at us... We're 20. We're no longer desk mates in school &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yang tak pernah buat kerja rumah kecuali kau dengan keje rumah maths kau yang aku selalu copy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of love from your gorgeous Prince.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;aku tak kisah dari kecik lagi aku nak jadi Prince!&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-6123933167590478025?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/6123933167590478025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=6123933167590478025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/6123933167590478025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/6123933167590478025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/slurpee.html' title='Slurpee'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-169018479288986134</id><published>2009-05-07T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T09:28:19.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teh O Ais Laici</title><content type='html'>Day 3 in my family home. Status; still breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I found out God truly loves me. Kris Allen made it to the top 3 of American Idol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was studying. Then I got a text from mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;lang jemput mak kite pegi tengok Apiz&lt;/span&gt; (my cousin) &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;masuk hospital&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought; shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was gonna meet Saadiah at 4, but had to cancel to see my sort-of sick cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got back home at 6, just in time for American Idol, thank god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studied again at 8. Then, father came next to me. I predicted bad things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Alang, jom kite semue pegi makan kat gerai depan gym tu&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought; shit shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got back home at 9.30. Studied again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then mother came, sat next to me and marked her student's assignments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Alang, name budak ni Ho. Malas budak laki cine ni. LOWEST MARKS! Hah, yang ni Tan Si Qi &lt;/span&gt;[while pronouncing Tan Zi Yi], &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;die rajin, nampak tak mind map die, ko kene buat mind map lang, jangan bace je, kene tulis...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought; shit shit shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes later, father came and sat in front of me, opened his laptop and started typing away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 minutes later, Along came and ate his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bungkus&lt;/span&gt;-ed dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He talked to mother, for an hour or so, about, nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought; shit shit shit shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying at home is impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Alang, Abah nak beli telefon yang ade gambar-gambar tu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;(camera phone)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;. Berape eh?&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-169018479288986134?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/169018479288986134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=169018479288986134' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/169018479288986134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/169018479288986134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/teh-o-ais-laici.html' title='Teh O Ais Laici'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-3092904125082607996</id><published>2009-05-05T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T09:44:36.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubur Ayam Claypot</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home from having our traditional late night suppers, my darling mother screeched;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Alang! Jage-jage ade kucing kat tengah-tengah jalan tu!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove quietly, hesitating the urge to scream aloud;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Mother, I know, my eyesight is much more better than yours..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as we drove closer to the cats, she said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Laaa, ade 2 kucing rupenye... Hai kucing, dating ke tengah-tengah malam ni? Romantik! 2, 3 kucing berlari..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed histerically. How could I ever be mad at her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being home feels great. The family is doing fine, for now... I'm gonna inhale all this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"positive-family-energy"&lt;/span&gt; while I still have the chance. My only problem, with the finals coming soon, very soon, going back to my hometown seems like a foolish decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm. I'll study tomorrow then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A certain friend of mine wanted her name to be posted on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maka, dengan ikhlasnya;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Lynette, we're over... Soooooo over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck unlucky bastards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-3092904125082607996?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/3092904125082607996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=3092904125082607996' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3092904125082607996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3092904125082607996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/bubur-ayam-claypot.html' title='Bubur Ayam Claypot'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-4747472500160257937</id><published>2009-05-04T04:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T05:21:22.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kuih Lepat Pisang</title><content type='html'>The smallest things make me happy, even after the worse of events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love driving alone, slowly, in my small car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love going back to my small town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love eating &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kuih-muih&lt;/span&gt; with my darling mother beside the Paroi football stadium, while talking about the most unimportant of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love those picnics my friends and I have, and I especially love those immature crazy &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;retarded&lt;/span&gt; photo sessions we have right after we eat our tuna sandwiches and poorly-cooked spaghetti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love kindness in people who you don't know much, but nevertheless amaze you with their understanding nature. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;[PY Tee]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love making new friends, and seeing their refreshing faces while they wave at you. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;[Qiu Yi and Grace Pang]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love those conversations I have with my younger brother when we haven't met for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Alang: Adik, computer boleh guna tak?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Adik: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;[while eyes faithfully glued to the TV]&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boleh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Alang: Habis tu kenapa tak on computer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Adik: Adik tutup sebab dah lama sangat bukak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Alang: Jadi tak boleh bukak lah?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Adik: Boleh, dah lama sangat tutup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled, even though I was tired, even though I was frustrated, and even though those haunting callings of the final exams was ringing sharply in my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just remebered about the final exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not smiling now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must get started. Hmmm, but where to start? Ugly purple book? Ugly black book? Ugly maroon book?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. And I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-4747472500160257937?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/4747472500160257937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=4747472500160257937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4747472500160257937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4747472500160257937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/05/kuih-lepat-pisang.html' title='Kuih Lepat Pisang'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-8254307054684129</id><published>2009-04-29T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T05:27:36.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teh Ais</title><content type='html'>How is it possible that, in midst of blaring happiness, I still manage to resemble a poignant image?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel ungrateful. Healthy, wealthy, blessed, but ungrateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has always treated me with such unimaginable kindness, but I've always been unkind, to both life, and those who I share it with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should be more grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is, and yes I admit, I miss you. All of you. But I can't help feeling like, that t-shirt that just decided to disappear after laundry day. No one, myself included, ever feels the need to search for that sad, pathetic t-shirt.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But, I'm surrounded by heart shapes that faithfully follow me wherever, whenever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be more grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfgx12KdCKI/AAAAAAAAAWM/1NfhuCew6nU/s1600-h/FIL.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfgx12KdCKI/AAAAAAAAAWM/1NfhuCew6nU/s400/FIL.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330064960135170210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you don't need me anymore, though I painfully need you. How I found you, so very like me, I can never understand. God answered my prayers, and led me towards you. You're the sibbling I never had, the friend I only dreamed of. You're my balance in life, and you keep me honest and sane. I can tell you anything and everything without a tinge of worry in mind. But you found life in love. And you grew out of being stagnant. And you left me alone, right where we met; in my confused state of mind. I know I sound selfish, and I admit that I am, but can't I be selfish, just this once? I mean, seriously, after all the self-neglection that I inflict upon myself, can't I just be selfish? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But she's still by my side, though hundreds of miles away, she's always in my pocket, and just a heart beat away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should be more grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SfgqdE_ulQI/AAAAAAAAAV8/UbCjGgE2Jns/s1600-h/the+diah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SfgqdE_ulQI/AAAAAAAAAV8/UbCjGgE2Jns/s400/the+diah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330056838038590722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love every strand of hair that grows on your head. How can't I? We have the same messy and unmanageable hair, the same small un-Malay like eyes, the same dark, red skin, the same large forehead... But you seem to forget that I'm no more older than that precious gem. How could I possibly carry your burden... I comfort you when he hates you. I follow you, just so you won't feel alone. I live my life revolving over yours. But you're never there for me. And you're always wrong, always... I cannot stand another day of you releasing all that ugly anger you possess by lashing it out at me. I'm 20, and that may be old enough, but, you're 55, and he's 55, and he's 25, and he's 23. My point is, I'm younger, and I want to be treated as such. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But, I'll always have you. Even if you're 15, and even if you don't understand what is happening, and even if you don't talk to me much, I'll still, always, have you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be more grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfgwn2uy1CI/AAAAAAAAAWE/P3dH3TwBBFI/s1600-h/mangkuk+kechik.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 342px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfgwn2uy1CI/AAAAAAAAAWE/P3dH3TwBBFI/s400/mangkuk+kechik.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330063620257797154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you, after my tiring pleas, and your anything but sincere forgiveness, you still deem me as unworthy. I know I treated you like no one should have been treated, but I changed all that makes me me, and only for you...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But, you forgave me, when I know it must have been the hardest thing for you to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should be more grateful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfg0V9pUiyI/AAAAAAAAAWk/9BTe4T4PRP4/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 183px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfg0V9pUiyI/AAAAAAAAAWk/9BTe4T4PRP4/s400/untitled.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330067710922754850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything's moving, developing, at a very, fast pace. And though I'm surrounded by this large crowd, I know I'm standing alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But I should &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; be more grateful, because at the very least, I still have me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfg0_N3_eGI/AAAAAAAAAWs/6QOohRA6P8c/s1600-h/prince.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfg0_N3_eGI/AAAAAAAAAWs/6QOohRA6P8c/s400/prince.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330068419653892194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[gambar ini di-edit oleh Diana Syakila Syukor. pffft, ape2jelah.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-8254307054684129?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/8254307054684129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=8254307054684129' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8254307054684129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/8254307054684129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/teh-ais.html' title='Teh Ais'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/Sfgx12KdCKI/AAAAAAAAAWM/1NfhuCew6nU/s72-c/FIL.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-3665923373434145999</id><published>2009-04-26T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T10:22:36.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mee Sua</title><content type='html'>Spent the whole day in front of my laptop, watching 6 episodes of New Zealand's Next Top Model on Youtube. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The girls are much more model-like compared to those ANTM hags.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No food, just a drilling headache. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't do "sit-in-front-of-laptop-for-hours".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Sundays in Melaka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heard "my people" aka fellow Contract Law failures are dropping the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was confident yesterday, now not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear God, I suck. Help this worthless soul you created. Amin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could turn back time, and be here;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SfSWXsnMlcI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OqVB2CnhPj8/s1600-h/senget.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SfSWXsnMlcI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OqVB2CnhPj8/s400/senget.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329049592942859714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Amanina, aku doakan kau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kris Allen, marry me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-3665923373434145999?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/3665923373434145999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=3665923373434145999' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3665923373434145999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3665923373434145999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/mee-sua.html' title='Mee Sua'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uzoUA8BKLZM/SfSWXsnMlcI/AAAAAAAAAV0/OqVB2CnhPj8/s72-c/senget.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-1046484900485671567</id><published>2009-04-24T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T22:56:29.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gourmet Laksa</title><content type='html'>The week after my dramatic escape was, in short, &lt;span&gt;kind&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I've never said it before, well, I want all of you &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[my dear friends]&lt;/span&gt; to know that the time where I'll say &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;thank you guys for being perfect friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; will never come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK shit. I think I just indirectly said it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[Ego tak???]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, being a true temporary-Malaccan &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[I emphasise on "temporary"]&lt;/span&gt;, I spent my Friday evening in Dataran Pahlawan/DP/Whatever you wanna call it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a breath of fresh air, after the hell of a week I had had...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gourmet Laksa&lt;/span&gt; at Zen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then bought my favourite &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jeli Anggur&lt;/span&gt; from that bakery in front of Zen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to watch the funniest and sexiest Mall Cop ever... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Paul Blart I'm truly madly deeply in lust with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to some &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hiasan-rumah-kedai-RM5&lt;/span&gt; shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know those key chains with birthdays on them??? And they have descriptions of people who were born on a particular birthday???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We thought it would be fun to read our birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought it was a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26 June, Farida Zohra&lt;/span&gt;; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"people born on this date are loyal to their friends and are good listeners".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SHOCKINGLY TRUE OMG OMG OMG OWHMAIGOT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22 December, Adiba Farhana&lt;/span&gt;; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"people born on this date are positive, a ray of sunshine".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HMMMM, I would like to exercise my right to remain silent. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sunshine konon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15 June, Prince Irshad K.J, of Seremban, N9, Malaysia&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[feel free to puke]&lt;/span&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"they are free spirited".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;EH BETUL LAH! WAH! Begitu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"they are fearful of commitment"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;W. T. F! &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;aku manede takut commitment!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;kot.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ok.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;aku delusi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tau&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my point is, why, eh no, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HOW&lt;/span&gt; could they put &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sunshine&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;positiveness&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loyalty&lt;/span&gt; on the other birthdays and put goddamneffing &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;FEARFUL OF COMMITMENT&lt;/span&gt; on mine!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jahat lah kau&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatev I don't believe in magic I don't believe in miracles I don't believe in love and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I SURE AS HELL GODDAMN DO NOT BELIEVE IN STUPID KEY CHAINS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dramatic much???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note... I have decided that I will not withdraw/drop Contract Law. I failed. It happened. I'll wing it. I'm gonna take it like a man. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[OK, har har, laugh all you want...]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll pass the finals. And if I don't... Eh, Segi College nye law ok tak???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[touch wood touch wood CHOY!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Kris Allen ditch your wife and marry me I could make you happy make you're dreams come true go to the end of the world for you there is nothing that I wouldn't do to make you feel my love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must. Study. Finals. 3 Weeks. Contract. Law. Sucks. Kill. Me. Now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s; I love you. Hahah. No no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s; Is it Nasi Cina Ayam Ala Zul, or Nasi Zul Cina Ala Ayam, or Nasi Zul Ayam Ala Cina, or Nasi Ayam Cina Ala Zul.....???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IKJ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-1046484900485671567?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/1046484900485671567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=1046484900485671567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1046484900485671567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1046484900485671567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/gourmet-laksa.html' title='Gourmet Laksa'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-1864404293455686305</id><published>2009-04-20T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T08:31:22.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nasi Lemak Kampung Baru</title><content type='html'>Ok I'm back. I know, no one cares, but yeah, I'm back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I failed contract, and went berserk for a week. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have to hantar my car for service, but I'm broke. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've picked up a bad habit, again. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm becoming uglier day by day. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my heart is turning black. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm indirectly killing myself. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm slowly dying. Again. Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I care........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so yeah, back to the topic... I. Failed. Contract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mere 5.3/20, which becomes 5/20 when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ianya dibundarkan&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not even a six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I'm dumb...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How do you react when you turn dumb???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so when &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;she&lt;/span&gt; gave us the results, I smiled... Looked to Rathi, and smiled... Left the class, still smiling... Told Rathi I was &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;running eh no&lt;/span&gt;, going back to Seremban, while still smiling... Met Zakwan in the library, told him I failed, still smiling... Met with Ng Kai Choy, told him I got below 10, still faithfully smiling. Went to the bank. Met Amirah Yasmin, told her I failed, still smiling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went back to my apartment, packed my clothes, took my laptop, and headed to my car, sickeningly still smiling. Got in my car, and drove out of my apartment, to the highway, while still smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drove for an hour and a half, 70km/h, while still smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sempadan Negeri Sembilan&lt;/span&gt;" signboard. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stopped smiling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Called Maryam. Felt depressed [cause she reminded me of MMU, which reminded me of law, which reminded me of Contract, which reminded me of failing...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Called Diana. Felt, light.er. Then, started to smile again, this time, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really smile&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Senawang - 2km&lt;/span&gt;" signboard. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stopped smiling&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"anda tak perlu pulang mungkin, esok boleh pulang, terus ke Nilai"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the Senawang exit. Stopped smiling. Slowed down the car. Turned on the left blinker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sped up. Missed the Senawang exit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smiled again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Melaka-Nilai-Cyberjaya-Damansara-KL-KL-KL-KL-KL-KL-slums of KL-Cheras-KL-Kampung Baru-KL-Damansara Utama/Damansara something else??-Subang Jaya-USJ 13-Kampung Baru-Nilai-Seremban.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Slept in the carpark, of a goddamn kedekut hotel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me, Diana, the Sodomizor, one night, and Nasi Lemak Kampung Baru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;:)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;        [tersenyum sejenak]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"ala, takpe anda, kalau sesat pon, kite masih dalam Malaysia"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(wished Maryam was there...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you D. Wouldn't have made it without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;p/s: I'm feeling better now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-1864404293455686305?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/1864404293455686305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=1864404293455686305' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1864404293455686305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1864404293455686305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/nasi-lemak-kampung-baru.html' title='Nasi Lemak Kampung Baru'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-3265763564900834171</id><published>2009-04-12T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T13:34:03.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salmon Quiche</title><content type='html'>I got to see my family this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its amazing how you never realise just how much you miss your family until you actually see them in like, inch-close distance. I know this may sound, erm, stupid/common/random/duhh [your choice], but if you had known me 5 years back... Boy would you understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 years back,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was 15 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering if I had reached puberty yet [believe me, its confusing]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing for facial hair to grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hating school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering if I was &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;straight&lt;/span&gt;/otherwise so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming; of college, of living in my own apartment, having my own car, becoming a famous&lt;br /&gt;super duper gorgeous fashion designer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading feminine magazines under the covers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secretly watching ANTM when everyone was asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hating the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, ok. I promise this won't be a depressing post. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Ke arah Irshad yang baru&lt;/span&gt;. Begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is, I was that kid [cewah, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that kid&lt;/span&gt;", sekarang dewasa telah mungkin. Yakni, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;mungkin&lt;/span&gt;???].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insecure, delusional, uncomfortable in my own body, delusional, and well yes, I hated my family. Felt like the black sheep, with lighter skin of course [no offence]. Felt like life was unfair, that they didn't love me enough, they didn't care &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yada yada yada&lt;/span&gt; and all that crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 10, I couldn't wait to be 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I turned 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, when I'm 20 I'll be more matured, grown up... I also thought, I would have found someone. Stop singing in public. Become masculine. Having fun. Living life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn 20 in two months time. *&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;hint hint&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I changed??? Well let me put it this way. I still sing [badly and way out of tune] in public. And as far as becoming more masculine is concerned, well, I hit a dead end at 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still as clueless as I was at 15. No. Screw that. I'm more clueless now. Nothing, has changed. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wonder if I've reached puberty [ok, maybe not, cause I'm sure its only supposed to happen once, maybe. I dunno. --note to self; must find more guy friends, and ask.--]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still wishing for more facial hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hate school. AND now, even college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still want to be gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Age is just a number. And as I suck in maths, or in simpler terms, "bangang maths", age must be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;unimportant&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, my family, still manages to forget that I am the second last child in the family. I'm young. er. Than most of you. And yet... I'm the one who has to listen to her screaming when they piss them off. And I'm the one who suffers from lack of financial assistance due to their poor judgments and stupidity. For once, I want to be able to share my problems, and not have you look the other way, not caring...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe life will be better when I turn 25...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tak Hilang Melayu Di Dunia&lt;/span&gt;". Oh. Begitu rupanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pfft this post is soooo depressing. Am seriously gonna talk about boobs and cars in the next post.&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-3265763564900834171?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/3265763564900834171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=3265763564900834171' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3265763564900834171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/3265763564900834171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/salmon-quiche.html' title='Salmon Quiche'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-925636376816604513</id><published>2009-04-08T05:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T06:29:02.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gulai Tempoyak Ikan Patin</title><content type='html'>So...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing my Constitutional Law assignment, writing about the Separation of Powers in Malaysia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having not paying much attention in part 1 of this subject, I totally forgot what to call Malaysia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Constitutional Monarch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Democratic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was pretty much lazy to open up that ugly black book, and my usually helpful housemate/classmate decided to sleep for the whole day, I took the easiest option, I "wiki-ed" Malaysia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....as a country that practices the parliamentary system......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. "country that practices the parliamentary system".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Begitu rupanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You know what I like about Wikipedia?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ability to gain much unnecessary information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I first searched for &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Malaysia&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Then I saw the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Malaysian Malays&lt;/span&gt;" link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And found this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Languages&lt;/span&gt;: Predominantly Malay with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;limited&lt;/span&gt; usage of English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biar saya memberi emphasis terhadap perkataan"&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;limited&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" di sini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Komen saya, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh. Begitu&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--From the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Malaysian Malays&lt;/span&gt;" page, I saw the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Minangkabau&lt;/span&gt;" link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--And from the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Minangkabau&lt;/span&gt;" page, I saw the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Negeri Sembilan&lt;/span&gt;" link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Being born and, sort of bred in Negeri Sembilan, I got interested and I clicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wikipedia has powerful magic. They made Negeri Sembilan look, nice. I became curious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--And then I saw the link for "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Seremban&lt;/span&gt;", my hometown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I clicked, read the first paragraph, then the second, and then, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POOOOFtadaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="mw-headline"&gt;City status&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt; &lt;p&gt;Seremban is one of four state capitals that has not achieved city status (Bandar raya) other than &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kota_Bharu" title="Kota Bharu"&gt;Kota Bharu&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuantan" title="Kuantan"&gt;Kuantan&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kangar" title="Kangar"&gt;Kangar&lt;/a&gt;. However, the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Malaysian_Ministry_of_Housing_and_Local_Government&amp;amp;action=edit&amp;amp;redlink=1" class="new" title="Malaysian Ministry of Housing and Local Government (page does not exist)"&gt;Malaysian Ministry of Housing and Local Government&lt;/a&gt; has approved Seremban to be declared a city by &lt;span class="mw-formatted-date" title="2009-09-09"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_9" title="September 9"&gt;9 September&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009" title="2009"&gt;2009&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. To achieve the city status, the state government has agreed that &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Majlis_Perbandaran_Nilai" title="Majlis Perbandaran Nilai"&gt;Majlis Perbandaran Nilai&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Majlis_Perbandaran_Seremban" title="Majlis Perbandaran Seremban"&gt;Majlis Perbandaran Seremban&lt;/a&gt; will be combined together.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Seremban, is, apparently,&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; not&lt;/span&gt; a city. In other words, I live, in a place, that is not, a city. In other words...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hill billy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Malaysian&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Negeri Sembilanian&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Serembanian&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;hill billy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And "to acheive the city status, the state government has agreed that Majlis Perbandaran &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NILAI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and Majlis Perbandaran Seremban will be combined together".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What the french connection united kingdom! Have these people ever been to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nilai&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nilai 1.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nilai 2.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nilai 3.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Perlu kah!?!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmmm, tapi beli kain murahlah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The City of Seremban-Nilai, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;home of cheap cloths and textile&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh. Begitu.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And did you know that Malaysia, though a gazillion times smaller than Australia, has a larger population?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmmm... Condoms. They may break. And, bak kata Melayu, "tak feel". But at least you won't have "ooops!" babies.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Along, planned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angah, panned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alang, planned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ateh, oops.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Acik, oops.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Adik, oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The lesser you have sex, the more space you have in our beloved country. Think about that when you pull out your Asian-sized penis or allow one to enter you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;An alternative, be gay. [babies? what babies?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hate it when I get all educational. Sort of.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sigh. Imma hill billy, from Bukan Bandaraya Seremban.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-925636376816604513?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/925636376816604513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=925636376816604513' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/925636376816604513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/925636376816604513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/04/gulai-tempoyak-ikan-patin.html' title='Gulai Tempoyak Ikan Patin'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-463904110478694413</id><published>2009-03-31T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T10:29:35.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Warm Chocolate Gateaux</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is public policy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"an unruly horse and when you get astride it you never know where it will carry you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Oh. Begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Datuk Ong Kee Hui v Sinyium Anak Mutit&lt;/span&gt; [nama apakah ini?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parliament intends to provide them with a decent subsistence to enable them to carry their duties &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;free from any temptation of abusing their political powers and influence in order to acquire wealth&lt;/span&gt;... [sambungan] &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Malaysia based its system of representative government upon freedom of choice"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Oh. Begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hamzah bin Musa v Fatimah Zaharah binti Mohamed Jalal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the defendant was a man from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kelantan&lt;/span&gt; who &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;married nine times&lt;/span&gt; and had &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;divorced his wives nine times&lt;/span&gt;" [saya ulangi, 9 kali. ulang suara, 9 kali]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Oh. Begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Yesteday, during Legal Methods lecture]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mr. Cute Lecturer&lt;/span&gt;; We all know that 1 + 1 equals 1, but it can also equal "a", or "b". [saya ulangi. 1 + 1 = 1.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Oh. Begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kehidupan seorang pelajar undang2. You gotta love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Allah bless my soul and show me guidance&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*takut gile exam Contract [bodoh] esok pagi...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-463904110478694413?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/463904110478694413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=463904110478694413' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/463904110478694413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/463904110478694413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/warm-chocolate-gateaux.html' title='Warm Chocolate Gateaux'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-6365576068491087803</id><published>2009-03-29T05:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T06:11:34.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tomyam Mihun</title><content type='html'>I'm back to that place that makes me cry like a little girl. [literally]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just, flipping through my [extra boring &amp;amp; useless] Contracts text book when something caught my eye. It was that book, that pathetic, disgusting, cute, sweet, serene book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was one of my fondest memories. I knew she cared for me, and the thing is, I didn't really mind, I cared for her too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll ask you a simple question; "What's the worst part of being a bitch?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;losing friends&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I wish I could take back some words, and hid my anger, and acted more rational, and stayed calm, and thought first, and lowered my ego, and kept quiet, and controlled myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all, I wish I'm more forgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was stupid. I was stupid, you were stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't because of the assignments, or those other crap I said. I kept it in for too long. And you were the trigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologise, I forgive, I... haven't forgotten, which basically means, forgiveness? .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hmmm. Maybe its just not meant to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---It's this stupid effed up mentality that makes people stay away from me. Or do I stay away from them? Whatev. Eff it, I'm gorgeous, marvelous. Forgiveness is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;so overrated&lt;/span&gt;. Just like that Danny Gokey idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate being here. But I hate being there. I'm screwed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Maybe I am too depressed? Nope, its probably self-pity... Issues man... Goddammit I got issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fcuk my blog is soooo depressing. Tomorrow imma write bout erk, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;birds and boobs and football.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I ate pizza, I think it was Super Supreme or something... I &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; meat, you know, chicken meat, lembu meat etc. [&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;soooo unfashionable&lt;/span&gt;]. But growing up with three [manly] brothers, meat kinda comes with the package. Every time we order pizza [&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;cause mummy's too busy to cook&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;love you mummy&lt;/span&gt;], Veggie Delight or Tuna Mayo is a big fat goddamn &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NO NO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; So anyways I was eating my "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very masculine and testosterone-enhancing pizza&lt;/span&gt;", disgusted by the amazingly large amount of oily peperoni, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POOOF&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;tadaa&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;, I saw a small slice of pineapple. Boy was I excited, "fashionable food!" my heart screamed out loud. And then....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It dropped on the carpet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, literally, went all "TIDAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"! [serious, tak caye tanye ijaz...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They [mak, along, kechik] asked "nape???".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said "pineapple jatuh!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along and Kechik laughed at my dramatic-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak said;         "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;alamak habis lah carpet&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. Kasih sayang seorang ibu tidak terhingga. I agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Contract law sucks badly]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s:&lt;br /&gt;I, man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-6365576068491087803?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/6365576068491087803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=6365576068491087803' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/6365576068491087803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/6365576068491087803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/tomyam-mihun.html' title='Tomyam Mihun'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-884352235196841157</id><published>2009-03-26T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T10:29:55.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kari Ayam</title><content type='html'>I feel happy, no, giddy. I had a good week. I mean, for the first time in my life, I actually lived. 19 years [I repeat, 19, not 20] of being alive, and I didn't even realise how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dead&lt;/span&gt; I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First impressions can be deceiving;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been to the South of Malaysia. I've been to the States, Australia, Europe, Mecca, Singapore... But never above Selangor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My trip to Ipoh, was surprisingly pleasant. Truth be told, when planning for this road trip, I wasn't, intrigued by Ipoh. I thought to myself, what's in Ipoh? It can't be any better than Seremban or Melaka...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Ipoh...&lt;br /&gt;was a breath of fresh air. Kinda like that feeling you get when you've just been "punished" [assaulted/sexually harrassed] by your [disgusting-low-paycheck-ed] school teacher, and then you see a kid scratching his/her car using "duit syilling 50 sen"... (no Cikgu Muda, that wasn't me &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;screw you bitch&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't just the place... It was the people I met. For 3 days of my life, I experienced something I never dreamed of... I witnessed love in a family;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never have I seen two sisters so close to each other, you actually feel like gasping whenever they embraced. And never have I seen a relationship between child and mother that was so peaceful, it was painfully  shocking. Or even how grandchild and grandmother would talk to each other... Just talk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But it was those phone calls between father and mother that disturbed me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How happy he made her feel, and how happy they were to see her happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know they existed. God I'm confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I had MY family too... -thanks,youguysforthebestweekofmylife,iloveallofyou,morethanbradlovesangelina,ambekkau-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---God I hate [m'sian] schools you wouldn't even believe it. As I packed for Ipoh, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;IHJ&lt;/span&gt;, my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ONLY&lt;/span&gt; younger brother, packed for, -ok wait-, deep breaths, the [fuckingly stupid] "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kem Gerak Tenaga Kadet Tentera&lt;/span&gt;". The name. The name! The FUCKING name of the "kem" itself pisses the crap out of me. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FAR OUT MAN&lt;/span&gt;! Are you effing serious? WTF is "gerak tenaga"? Like, "the move energy army cadet camp". Effing makes no sense!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he told me;&lt;/span&gt; Alang, sarjan [some retarded form 5 "senior" bastard] kate makanan kat kem tu tak sedap, macam mihun goreng tapi tak rase ape2...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I answered;&lt;/span&gt; Adik... Memangla tak sedap. Kau tau tak ko gi mane ni? Kau tak pernah pegi kem skolah ke? [after seeing him shaking his head, I continued] Macam torture tau g kem2 bangang ni. Dulu Alang slalu suruh mak taipkan surat cakap Alang demam. mesti kau kene mandi dalam air sungai busuk. Makan makanan pendatang asing ngn tidur dalam kemah sial. Jom gi Giant [di Seremban terdapat Giant] beli biskut roti ngan sardin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[While at Giant] &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I said&lt;/span&gt;; Adik, kalau sarjan bodoh tu suh adik buat bende yang adik tak nak buat, kite boleh saman die, sebab tak dapat "consent" daripade adik. Samelah macam konsep rogol. Die dah "coerce" adik, kite boleh saman. Paling senang, kite cakap je die "touched you in places he is not warranted to touch". Hah, die akan dilabel paedophile. Senang je dik...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got back from Ipoh.&lt;br /&gt;He asked me how my trip was.&lt;br /&gt;I told him how much fun it was.&lt;br /&gt;Then I asked him how his "kem" went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;He ate "mihun goreng tapi tak rasa ape2".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;He showered in icky digusting "air sungai".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;He slept in a "kemah sial".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Its always like this. While I'm eating at Zen in Melaka, he's eating crappy "gerai" food. While I'm out watching a movie with my friends, he's watching t.v at home, alone. While I'm on a roadtrip with my friends, he's in a fucking "kem".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;babi sekolah2 m'sia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks; Adiba, Farida, Lee, Hana [and Hana's mum and Hawa], Adha [and Adha's dad and "baby"] for Ipoh. And thank [without an "s"] Maryam and Diana for a stick [???] of Corn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-884352235196841157?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/884352235196841157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=884352235196841157' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/884352235196841157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/884352235196841157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/kari-ayam.html' title='Kari Ayam'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-5768608042331213644</id><published>2009-03-23T01:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T02:15:18.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kerabu Mangga Muda</title><content type='html'>I feel like writing in Malay. Sort of. [introducing; Bahasa Andaku]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kini adalah cuti traimester. Dahsyat konsep cuti ini, kerana adalah bosan segala duduki di rumah. Sesungguhnya berada di Melaka indah adalah "JAUH" lebih gah dan seronok. [Hmmm. Tiada pernah menhargai jasa baik budi Melaka...] Nasib baik perkara cuti di MMU adalah pendek dan tiada panjang melarat seolah IPTA segala. Yakni, maka nasib baik ke IPTS, begitu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;My brothers "geleng-kepale-ed" when they heard me, Mak Yam and Diana S[y]akila talk like this. They said "patotlah amek law, cakap laju gile..." ***Diana bukannye amek law pon die nak jadi askar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. This feels weird. [some people are just not meant to write in Malay. Just as some people are not meant to write in English. Hmmm. Begitu.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was saying [sort of], I hate the holidays... I mean, I basically am broke [?], and I live in a ghost town, so even if I had money, there would be no where to go... Am counting the days...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew how secured I am... I always thought everyone felt the way I did. I mean, sure I may wake up one day and think, "God I'm black...", but then, I realise I'm asian, so yeah, naturally, I should be coloured... My point is, I've always felt comfortable in my body. I feel this way, because, well, there ARE people who are poorer, uglier, dumber [met a lot of those] than me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*note to self; must be more cautious when teasing others, because people CAN be insecure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sorry for calling you short. I didn't realise how bad it would make you feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Low low low low... [this is not a reference to that "boobs with the fur" song.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have low expectations. Never expected money from my parents. Never targeted for an A. Never expected people to remember. Never thought of being loved. Never thought of being capable of loving. Never this, and never that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always satisfied with what I get...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not know that was a good trait. I mean, I was always happy with what I got,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if there's more??? Don't I deserve more??? Is this as good as it gets?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm confused. Deeply. I feel like I've been lying to myself for 20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Happy is NOT just accepting, as I just learnt, its expecting too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........even if it does make you insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I am ugly dumb and poor. I should expect for more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anda adalah mati tanpa *, tetapi * adalah LEBIH mati tanpa anda..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That got me thinking [I hate thinking...].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do they &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WANT&lt;/span&gt; me? Or do they &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NEED&lt;/span&gt; me???  I goddamnlove them. But I can't help feeling used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*note to self; being a doormat sucks, but it DOES have its perks... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Mak Yam, even if you did call me Ayam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of this. I wanna eat some cake and stare into the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for wasting your time reading this. I suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;p/s: saya dapat B3 untuk Bahasa Melayu masa SPM lalala.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-5768608042331213644?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/5768608042331213644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=5768608042331213644' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5768608042331213644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5768608042331213644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/kerabu-mangga-muda.html' title='Kerabu Mangga Muda'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-717711920313548297</id><published>2009-03-22T05:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T05:51:12.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nasi Ayam Penyet</title><content type='html'>Don't you just wish that good things never end?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two words; [1] jagung, [2] skema.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Ayam and Peminum Starbucks for making me feel 19.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the best weekend of my life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-717711920313548297?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/717711920313548297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=717711920313548297' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/717711920313548297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/717711920313548297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/nasi-ayam-penyet.html' title='Nasi Ayam Penyet'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-1489368068999615378</id><published>2009-03-17T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T09:39:40.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubur Cha Cha</title><content type='html'>*Still on break from kutuk-ing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To my shining star [literally]&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I may hate you today, but I'll love you forever, and even after that....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to change. The "new Shad" I keep on telling people.&lt;br /&gt;Can we really ever change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, must be less emo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "kindheartedcaringdoesnotliketobeatthecrapoutofme" housemate/classmate says;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too depressed. that I keep myself locked up in some cocoon. that I have issues. that I, have issues. that I have, issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm unpleasant. To be with. To look at. To talk too. But I'm happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouldn't that count for  something???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouldn't it????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOOOOOO, I almost forgot????!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My, "kindheartedcaringdoesnotliketobeatthecrapoutofme" housemate/classmate ALSO said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep everything "INSIDE" and, what was it again? Like, mmm, I act like everything's ok on the "OUTSIDE" but I'm way beyond repair in the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm fake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Wteff no. I am not fake! I "WAS" fake. Past tense. I'm me now. Seriously! Serious wei!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[maybe if I repeat it 10thousand times it'll come true.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't change, cause that would defeat the whole purpose of being me. I want to be nice. er. but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am nice. I think. How effing nice.er can I effing be???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** do not talk bad about others. [hard]&lt;br /&gt;*** forgive and forget. ok, so maybe just forgive. or, just forget? [confused]&lt;br /&gt;*** smile. and actually mean it. [way hard]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irshad; you are not in high school anymore. Sure you have family issues. You think you're ugly. You think you're fat. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;People hate you. You hate people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;EVERYONE FEELS THE SAME!!!&lt;/span&gt; Stop complaining. Makes you look weak, pathetic and gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gay. Believe me. I tried. I wish I was. They're so much happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want. To change. I don't want to be Shad. [simple solution, I'm Shad no longer, just call me Khairi. *tadaaaaa! Genius. ((call me Khairi, I'll kill you))]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;listen&lt;br /&gt;u are human&lt;br /&gt;its not wrong&lt;br /&gt;i'd be hurt if it happened to me&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are you. you havent changed. this is you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;u try so hard to please everyone&lt;br /&gt;when u dont need or have to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I love you. Thanks, for making me feel more human, and less pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To another completely different person: I think I might just be n love with you. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GodI'msuchadramaking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-1489368068999615378?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/1489368068999615378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=1489368068999615378' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1489368068999615378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/1489368068999615378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/bubur-cha-cha.html' title='Bubur Cha Cha'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-7227526549229042150</id><published>2009-03-16T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:35:40.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sambal Udang</title><content type='html'>I'm gonna take a break from kutuk-ing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Random thoughts&lt;/span&gt;;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sometimes, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;its better to keep some things inside your head&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I learnt that the hard way&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* God I don't hate you. Or you too. I actually miss both of you. Ok, maybe just one of you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I think I'm in love. But I can't be in love. Because I'm messed up, everyone knows it. Even you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I saw you today, and I miss you too....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* It &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;does&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; get tiring... You know.... Being mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Amendment that should be made to the Federal Constitutional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Article 5 (6)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right to fuck;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a) any man&lt;br /&gt;(b) any woman&lt;br /&gt;(c) any object&lt;br /&gt;(d) any animal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not taking into consideration of the race, gender and age of the said fuckor, subject to clause (7), in any position, time or place that the fuckor, and at times, the fuckee, may wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Article 5 (7)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N**** shall not fuck or be fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Hmmmm. Deebs says I think dirty thoughts, I wonder why. I probably  have "porn-brain".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Wish I was gay... Life would be much easier...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Irshad you still suck, screw you f you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-7227526549229042150?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/7227526549229042150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=7227526549229042150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/7227526549229042150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/7227526549229042150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/sambal-udang.html' title='Sambal Udang'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-5620632672544482349</id><published>2009-03-03T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T21:47:56.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gulai Ayam Masak Lemak Cili Api</title><content type='html'>I was having a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting in the air-conditioned law-librabry, facebook-ing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to pee, so I went to the disgusting toilet, and well, i peed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to wash my hands, and that's when my above average day turned fugly. I looked straight ahead,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and I saw&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HIM!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That whorish bitch! Standing there, looking confident with himself, not knowing just how fucking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;UGLY&lt;/span&gt;, no, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;URRRGLY&lt;/span&gt; he is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Lets see... He has an effing &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;LARGE&lt;/span&gt; forehead, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;bad skin&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he's dark, tall,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FULLSTOP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;! And bitch please! You actually do realise we're living in Malaysia right? Then why the effing fuck are you wearing that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hideous cardigan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;AND WAIT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The last time I checked, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cardigans are for GIRLS&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;gayfucktard!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OOO, what fucking happened? Cut your fucking penis while playing with your goddamn barbie dolls???? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;You GAY dick!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You're always surrounded by girls, cause no guy would ever wanna talk to you. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You're like, as gay as they get!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; You fucking wear products, Body Shop for petes sake! I can literally feel my masculinity fading just effing talking about you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;ou fucking wear lipstick!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;YOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GUY!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a penis, no boobs, you fucking transgender!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;I think its about time you fucking get back to reality, and go play soccer, dimwit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;You're GAY, SISSY, PONDAN, BAPOK, MAKNYAH...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck off. Everyone hates you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;[FUN! Don't let me have all the fun, JOIN IN!!! Bash Irshad IKJ, talk crap about him too!!!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-5620632672544482349?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/5620632672544482349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=5620632672544482349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5620632672544482349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/5620632672544482349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/gulai-ayam-masak-lemak-cili-api.html' title='Gulai Ayam Masak Lemak Cili Api'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6477757477324229653.post-4760205153658305838</id><published>2009-03-03T08:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T09:10:00.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sambal Petai</title><content type='html'>Today, in class, my lecturer was talking about human rights. I barely understood what he was talking about as I was too busy drooling over his hotness. Howev, he said one particular statement that managed to catch my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"People always blog bad stuff about others, they never talk shit about themselves"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so he didn't say shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one very interesting statement. I used to blog, frequently. Then war happened. So I stopped. But as an ex-blogger, I've had my fair share of controversy. They said I kutuk-ed, I said I was being honest. They saw cats, I saw ring worms. Whatev, all in the pass. Anyways, my point is, people really DO blog crap about people they hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm gonna defy expectations;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna start bloging about the shitiness and effed-up-ness of yours truly, moi, saya, aku, daku...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun right? I know, I'm such a genius, so very gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Reasons Why I Hate IKJ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;No. 1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IKJ is so &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;effing narcissistic&lt;/span&gt;! I mean, like, what the fuck dude. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You think you're so good&lt;/span&gt;. Better than others, smarter than others, thinner than others. Well let me indulge you with this thing, called the truth! &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;U fugly, biartch!&lt;/span&gt; I mean, god you look like shit. No wonder your own housemate calls you a cunt, I mean, look at you. And bitch, puh-leasee, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SIL VOUS PLAIT&lt;/span&gt;! you are &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; smart! Any bitch can pick up a book and read, and just because you read and effing sit in the library 24/7 like a fucking asswipe, doesn't mean you're smart. You're a bitch, a bitch who happens to read more than others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loser pleaseee.. Get a life, retard. Or, better yet, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;go and fuck yourself with your effing Contracts book&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irshad; 2 words. "&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;sex-deprived weirdo&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Loser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;[this was fun lah!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6477757477324229653-4760205153658305838?l=hatingikj.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/feeds/4760205153658305838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6477757477324229653&amp;postID=4760205153658305838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4760205153658305838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6477757477324229653/posts/default/4760205153658305838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatingikj.blogspot.com/2009/03/sambal-petai.html' title='Sambal Petai'/><author><name>Irshad K.J</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
