Food

I love good food. Taste can be very subjective. To some, the salty sweet sensation of indo mee coursing right down their tongue is nothing short of wonder. To others, indo mee just means a whole bunch of bland noodles mixed with cancer inducing black sauce. Then again, other love the taste of pasta Bolognese and all of its tomatoey goodness. The sauce's richness and flavours built upon satisfying oodles of pasta. Some just think its a bit too sour. 

I love good food. Stuff that appeals to me. Things like, pasta and indo mee. Roti Canai with milo ais. Crystal Cha's goodies, aunty Noreen's lasagna and aunty Kim's apple crumble are simply things that brighten my memories. Here, living by myself in Australia, I simply cannot study without having eaten a hearty lunch and a good dinner. I often cook spaghetti, its the easiest thing on earth to do and the least easy thing to foul up. Just go warm up some sauce from a bottle and I'm done! Otherwise, its lamb, go pop two pieces in the oven, wait for twenty minutes and stuff that I normally pay 10 rm for comes out right away. Good food makes me happy. 

Most of all. Nasi Lemak makes me happy. Sigh.... my pain. 

TeeJowee

There are reason's upon reasons of why two main characters in a film should not somehow be entagled in a plot and fall listlessly in love with each other. He's too dumb, she's too smart, he's too poor, she's too rich, her daddy has a shot gun, his mommy hates the girl. Whatever. Somehow, thanks to the writer's role of god, both character's fall desperately in love through some subway runaround scene. Or a beautiful wedding spoilt by the perfectly timed Romeo's "I OBJECT!" I cringe in absolute horror when such things happen. 

Haha, I lie. A small dopey smile often appears instead of my cringe. At the most effeminate  core of me, there's a preteen girl screaming to be satisfied with the corniest of scenes and the most cliched of lines. When there's a subway chase where the dashing prince in jeans sprints through crowds, his face full of desperation, confusion and lurve. Searching for the face of his lady in a crowd of hundreds before she departs for a location only accessible by that one train in time prompts my heart to race! Then he leaps over a ticketing gate for his love and while she sadly waits on a platform thinking of how he broke her heart. Then suddenly, he careens through a corner and the cheesiest of music plays. The camera zooms in on his relieved face followed by that slightly awkward scene when both lovers stand facing shyly at each other. She realizes how much he misses her, then.... he whispers some soul tearingly annoying line... then... then... then... he looks into her eyes... (oooooh).....  they embrace.... and..... then... then.... taking all the shmucking time in the world.... they....

Kiss.

.

sigh...

A whole bunch of people (where did they come from?) start clapping or perhaps, if the director decides to have some class, zooms out the camera straight into the credits. By this time, my dopey grin has matured into a huge smile. Funny thing is, I don't even know I'm smiling and time again, I had to voluntarily wipe the corny grin of my face. I've even caught a dear friend doing the exact same thing once at a particularly drippy film. ( karl I'm looking at you) I clued on to how ridiculous I look.  

Thing is, I like stuff like that to happen. Romance and happy subway endings somehow found its way from Europe into my blood. Somehow. These things just get better when the stories pile on reasons for the couple to not fall desperately in love with one another!

More reasons for people who are so different not to get together. How on earth does an intellectual carry on with someone whose only interested in yodeling or modeling. How does a fascistly neat person live with a cultivator of floor fungus? How does an idealist live with a surrealist and a socialist with a capitalist! How does a painter live with a doctor and a animal lover with live with someone who is allergic to hippos? Yet, these differences are fermented into something deliciously enchanting! Thought they may serve to annoy, yet similarities tend to make life boring, and love is anything but boring. While similarities are the chords that keep a couple together, its the differences that provide the glorious riffs to a song. 

Things are made far better still when both partners happen to be equally attractive folk. Talented as well. Imagine the children they would have! Ice and cream coming together to birth Hagen Daaz! Such beautiful features married and engraved into a template of flesh, alighting the world applauding such a union! And the talents behold! Musicality married with artistry and song married to lyrics. Intelligence combined with trademarked wit amplified with flamboyance which provide the similarity of both parents! Truly! Their children would be attractively veneered monsters! 

Sigh... dreams are dreams I supposed. Then again, 19 is an age that borders the edge of adulthood. Go make something happen. 

This means you and ____.

Oh pretty please. For my entertainment. You know how I like these corny endings.   

The Boy's Brigade

I normally shy away from this topic as i don't think my writing will do it any justice. 

This made Me Laugh.

Jo Wee's Bday!

Woman. I give you intercontinental hug. 

Stuff I'd like to do with you on your bday. 

-nasi lemak.

-eat  a whole tub of really good ice cream

-watch cool movie

-laugh at something stupid

-sit on the swings in front of my house

-debate on why you should marry daryl

-teach you how to play playstation. 

I'm sleepy. 

Far better post to come up. 

Resume on My Dateability.

I am a 18 year old male. And dang it. I am charmingly shy and very generous with my money, food, and time. 

I have a unique shyness about me. It will make you go aw...."he's sooo cute."

I love making people laugh. And I will cook and clean for you if you wanna be my girl.

I am scientifically minded so I won't care if you scold me cause I know that you're having a bad day. Instead I shall lovingly sweep you in my muscular arms and hold you close to my incredibly chiselled chest. I shall allow you to hear the melodious sound of my heart comforting yours. My breath so scented with pine and grass you'd wonder if you're dating an Ent. 

I know how to play, the piano, trumpet, drums, saxophone, guitar, violin and harmonica. I even do vocals. 

I am a carrier of excellent genetics. My mother was extremely good looking and so was my father. 

I can be your sexyback.

I can give you the moon and the stars whenever you want them. Cause I'm superman. 

My love is like a well. My armpits like a desert. 

My belly is like a hill on which you can build your fortress on. 

My will, resolute, my spirit, strong, my body, dashing. For who am I?

I'm Wong. Joseph Wong. 

How To Be A Guy

How to be a guy is extremely simple. Most males, if not all; enter this world with the necessary parts and tools needed to begin behaving like a guy. Some tools of the trade include far greater biological acoustics then our better counter parts. Some of these include: better trombonic anal acoustics and far more advanced gas dispensing techniques.

Of course, being a proper guys also means one must, for the sake of others, dampen such tools and only use them for private amusement. 

Other than that, I simply cannot think of how else to be a guy. According to a certain friend, it simply is... natural. However, I'll probably think of something else and of course, add them to this blog.