Firdauz takes 5

Kan aku pernah bersuara, kerja aku di kilang gula. Kerja aku halau semut “Tak payah guna mulut tu,” kata boss aku.

Hanya perlu guna tangan, tepis laju-laju kiri dan kanan bawah ketiak atas bahu tu.

Guna mulut nanti boss aku mulut aku balik.

Boss aku lelaki, kalau perempuan takpe, aku suka bab mulut ni.

Ye, kerjakan aku, mulutkan aku, hari Jumaat memang banyak gula.

Lebih banyak semut.

=(

Cepat peluk aku, cakap “I love you,” cepat!

I’m not quite good at it, but i do, draw at times, dgn buruknya.

=(

and since i’m a good citizen, i only watch original movies and cartoons, casually.

Dila tagged me.

The Rules :

1. Each blogger must post these rules first.
2. Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’ve been tagged, and to read your blog.

8 Random Truths :

i) I’m a good citizen.
I pay my income tax, RM75 each month. I know it’s not much. But i’m glad, i play my part.

ii) I’m a good citizen.
I do lunch-dates with anyone. Guys, girls, single, attached, doesn’t matter.

iii) I’m a good citizen.
I post pictures and videos on my blog so people don’t have to stalk on my myspace/friendster/facebook accounts.

iv) I’m a good son.
I pee standing up, i guess my parents didn’t really like the idea when they circumcised me. I was 8 and all i did was crying like a boy whose penis has been chopped off!

v) I’m a good son.
I still pee standing up and i have taught my brother to do so. I laughed so loud when he finally got circumcised. My parents must have loved me so much.

vi) I’m a good blogger.
I hate everyone.

vii) I’m the best human.
I hate to exaggerate.

viii) I’m the great Firdauz.
That’s why u like to mention my name =)

I’m tagging :

i) Che Det
ii) Lim Kit Siang
iii) Anwar Ibrahim
iv) Khairy
v) Che Det
vi) Lim Kit Siang
vii) Anwar Ibrahim
viii) Khairy

I hope you guys are not too busy to do this tag thing. I’m sorry if you guys are!

=(

I hate Farah!

Hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her hate her
love her hate her

I hate Farah =(

The only Farrah whom i like is this girl.

I got pimples on fridays okay?

I hate fridays!

Some more muka nanti senget2, mata nanti sepet2 je hari jumaat.

Ketawa la ramai2 kay.

=(

P/s: This isn’t an accidental hatred, i bought those bubble gums at 7e because farah is a jerk n i intensely loathe her.

Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He’s a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does he do, I swear for his own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, he sets the rules in opposition. It’s the goof of all time. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, don’t swallow. Ahahaha. And while you’re jumping from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He’s laughing his sick, fucking ass off! He’s a tight-ass! He’s a sadist! He’s an absentee landlord. Worship that? Never

- John Milton

In the building where i work, there is this small shop that has witnessed my presence literally, every single workday of mine. It is my only favourite place in all the floors this building has. I come here to turn my sour days into sugar. I come here to empty my pocket, to fill my empty brackets.

“Uncle, chewing gum yang boleh tiup belon besar-besar tu ade tak?” I asked for a bubble gum this morning.

“Yang itu takde la, yang ini sahaja ade,” He showed me a 5 cent chewing gum.

“Auntie, Uncle cakap chewing gum yang boleh tiup belon besar-besar tu takde,” I’m always good at making sad faces and forming alliance.

“Ade dekat situ la. Uncle tunjuk dia chewing gum tu,” There, i bought love. Not with my cents and dollars though.

My dollars and cents have never bought me things that i needed. They, as always, have only bought me things that i wanted. But never everything.

This morning, i wanted bubble gum. I didn’t get it.

Yesterday morning, i wanted to get up early to work. I didn’t get it either.

Every morning since the past 2 years, i always wanted a wicked girlfriend who would slap to waking up, or to tickle me to peeing my pants. I have never gotten that. Perhaps not yet.

So this morning, this small shop offered me what i needed;

A bubble-gummed love, in the form of a 5 cent chewing gum that could never blow a real bubble.

Accidental happiness, i guess. When the bubbles don’t shape but the smile does.

Yang ini dari facebook,

Yang ini dari entri pertama.

Yang ini malam kelmarin,

Muka, tak boleh carik makan. Yang boleh kena makan, orang yang bermuka-muka!

Macam aku

:P

Her name was Farah. Her second name was a secret she never shared. The introduction hour was short, i sent her my phone number through an email, the next day, she was my lunch date.

The next day i said, “Hello, you’re Farah issit?” Her answer was, i can’t remember. Must have been “Yes, and you’re Firdauz am i right?” Because she still sat beside me. Because she spoke good english. Because i used “issit” and i was proud of it.

Her eyes were covered behind a black sunglasses, her black painted fingernails were pushing buttons on her black cellphone, guess what color covered her upper figure.

Black.

We went to my 2nd favourite dine place to have two sets of spaghettini and a couple of side dishes, since my 1st favourite dine place had been shut down, my 3rd one didn’t exist, her favourites were probably overseas, and i had to decide.

So decide i did. I decided that Farah was an Architorturer. Not an anarchist, not a Greek mathematician, but certainly yes, a perfect archetype of a soul torturer. A mean machine made from jell-o and sweet candies. At least i decided based on what she portrayed and told me.

“What you study eh?” I asked.

“Architecture, wait, architorture.” There, she said it herself. Wasn’t my fault that she happily practiced this wicked dark discipline that she claimed was half science and half art. I thought it was totally a cool thing to learn. She thought it was even cooler to wear an almost all black outfit, but her light colored pants.

And her pants were not the only thing she dauntlessly wore, she lunch dated me in her rubber slippers. Yes, you read that one right. Rubber slippers, wasn’t the slippery lubricated rubber you probably had in mind.

But you were probably wrong, had you thought she had no fashion sense. We went to watching Iron Man firstly because i wanted to, secondly because she thought Gwyneth Paltrow’s shoes were the sexiest things that made the movie worth watching 3 times.

“There there, look at her shoes! Cantik kan?” After a while, i managed to make her to speak our Bahasa Negara.

“There again, there again, her shoes!” She pointed to Gwyneth Paltrow’s heels while the actress ran away from Iron Monger.

“Eh, really sexy la, i love her shoes!” Every girl who personally knew me knew that i loved sexy shoes. But not her, she didn’t know the secret ambition i had in mind to become a shoe designer.

A sweetheart she was. She had watched Iron Man 2 times before her third. Her first was with her father, her second was with her boyfriend where she slept halfway, her third was, yes, with me and we watched it until the credit finish playing, until there were people cleaning up the mess.

Because she wanted to watch the preview of Iron Man sequel.

“Firdauz, can we wait until the credit finish playing, they will show a preview of Iron Man 2!”

“Yes of course Farah, where you heard about it anyway?”

“The internet”

And internet, wasn’t where we actually met. I had this slutty oh-so-bimbo post about me needing a lunch date, and this sweetheart came to rescue. We met in person, we learnt more in person, we had our time, and it was totally cool and fun.

“Oh i love Mcdonalds,” Must be one of those Anna Suraya’s confusing doctrines, since she was one of her readers.

“I love Carl’s Jr. better,” I never lied.

“I could finish the big set of Carl’s Jr.” She lied. Because after i argued with her that no ordinary person could ever stomach the medium sets, she later explained it to me.

“I bought the big set, but i didn’t eat the fries, i gave it to my sister and my sister was happy,” Ok, she was cute, even when she cheated me. The one that made the difference between small, medium and big sets, was the fries. Because the drinks were bottomless.

“Firdauz, what’s the name of this mosque?” “Look at it!, i like the architecture except the dome, every mosque has the same dome, they shouldn’t!”

I agreed.

“There, your home,” i pointed to an old barrier made from bricks.

“What is it?”

“Your home”

“What is it, Firdauz?”

“Your home, Farah”

“What is it?!!!”

“Penjara Pudu.” An old prison, but a new pain. She slapped hard at my right arm.

We went to 3 different lands, and being spontaneous helped us explored the possibilities to seeking new adventures. Whether they where geographical, whether they were just states of mind, we travelled our evening together.

“What’s your passion, faster tell! you gotta have one” I liked to play boss.

“I just told you la Mr. Firdauz! i love taking pictures!” I suffered a short term memory. I’ll make a good boss.

Click and click. She took two pictures. One was me, the other one was a red ferrari.

She was a January person, the best i ever met. The July person i was, the good and the bad.

“So, should we do the secret handshake?” My joke wasn’t funny.

“If you want.” Her joke was funnier. But we never shook hands, really. We never actually touched, really. Because i understood malay custom and i certainly knew how to respect my date.

Later that evening of May 11th, she ended it with walking to her hostel with the free “I love you mom” cupcakes, a free gift from the place we had our lunch. It was a Mother’s day gift in her hand, a meaningful lunch in my belly, and a new perspective for this blog.

Real people meeting for lunch, discovering life.

Why one should lunch date with me.

I guess, when the universe was being created, when time started to travel forward, questions and mysteries just filled up the empty spaces. It was a riddle of paradoxes that mothered life, we live not to find the final answers, but to pass the book so they could read it with others.

The book, the book of life. Written in many chapters by humankind.

I don’t have it, but i’ve read it before. Read it when i i first rode a bicycle, and quickly moved to chapter 2 when i first fell from the bicycle. I read it in chapter 3, when i studied my parents religion and i read it in the glossary about the other religions.

I’ve seen people writing its chapters, their favorites were mostly ones that filled with laughter. Ones that filled with sensations. Ones that were worth to mention.

I don’t have the book, i laugh with The Simpsons and i cry with The Fountain. I dance with Radiohead and i rest with monetized dreams. I talk to televisions and i like cats.

The truth is not hidden, the ugliness isn’t guarded. You’d see me eating messily and you’d pity me mercifully because no one has ever said i don’t have a sweet smile. No one has ever said i’m cute neither have they said i’m good looking.

I am a mortal soul, not a charming warrior. I save no one’s lives, yet i am not a bad person either. The name is Firdauz, currently an ordinary designer slash a marxist web developer slash a radical music composer, who, at one time, was once a lover. My hands are not empty although my chest is, yes a little bit droughty.

The book i’ve read, the many mistakes i’ve done, the placebo that momentarily fixed my weeks but swallowed my years.

Happiness is when i dance terribly and when i sing shamefully wrong.

They say, when the universe was first created, when particles condensed into matters, when days collected minutes, we all came from the same fireball. The panic, the vomit of a cooled down cosmological war.

The book of life says, you’re a part of me. But does it say of how epic, how dangerously realistic the missing parts of you can be found in a clumsy lunch with an independent spirit?

That, you gotta find out yourself.

=)

Hi, my name is Firdauz, im 27 going on 28 and i need a lunch date. Yes, you can bring a friend too, should you prefer to bring one.

Open to anyone, guys and girls of any age, doesn’t matter.

Below are the photos of me (because i understand looks give us the impression and the rough idea of how a person is like). But do take note that photos, most of the time, they lie. Mine too. I have a lot more darker skin in real life.

Email me at loopsinner{at}gmail{dot}com if you enjoy meeting new people, making new friends and love a free lunch.

At any restaurant, your pick.

Mcdonalds, mcdonalds saya nak nyanyi?