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| Friday, February 10, 2006 |
| Warning: Long angst-filled post! |
It was 2:30am. Like a trained seismologist, I sensed rather than felt the familiar rumblings gathering beneath the surface. Soon, the tame rumblings grew to a threatening growl, then rose to a deafening thunder, with subwoofer on max too boot. Tectonic plates moved. Seismic shock waves emanated from within. Oh no, I thought. Not again.
I had the munchies.
And judging from the sharp oscillating lines on paper in black ink printing machine, I had 'em bad. rawr. Thank goodness I live in Malaysia, where food is readily available no matter what time of day, and not in some God-forsaken backward country like Australia where everything closes at 5pm. A country's progress should be measured by the availability of food at all times of the day. That way, Malaysia would be top of the world's socio-economic ladder and the States will be pegging their dollar to our ringgit. hoho. And I wouldn't have to worry about the fees for freakin' medical school.
Back to the munchies. The stomach god demanded meat. Meat I had to offer, with a vanilla coke and fries too. McD's nuggets at 2:30am? Hanya di Malaysia! Or so I think lah. The roaring began to cease as the stomach deity was satisfied with my sacrifice. Soon, the stomach was purring like a satisfied kitten. miao.
While munching on my bbq sauce-accented nuggets, I idled through the tv channels. I was confronted with the worst, and the best of the entertainment industry. Let's start with the worst because I like to complain and I find it difficult to say anything good about anybody anyway.
There was a show called Pterodactyl on. I loved dinosaurs as a kid (then again, which 6-year-old boy doesn't??) and decided to give the show a shot. What a mistake. With the tagline "they've waited millions of years too feed... they won't wait any longer!" I should have known what to expect. But noOOoOoo, I used to love dinosaurs, this should be ok what! Stupid inner child.
The CGI looked as if it were done by a 5 year old kid with only a vague idea of what a pterodactyl should like like. The big ol' flying lizards were superimposed so badly, only a half-blind (can't be fully blind, else he wouldn't be able to see at all eh) retard high on speed could have believed that the actors were actually interacting with the dinosaurs. The script was so generic of B-grade films, I swear that all they do is change the monster and the character names from shows like crocodile! or piranha! or *insert scary carnivorous animal name here* attacks!
The pterodactyl in the show looked slightly worse than this. Notice the artistically coloured wings, neck and tail, and jaw dripping with blood.
Yes, there was even the compulsory heroic sacrifice at the end (though not by the lead actor of course) by one of the ca-le-feh actors. Soaking in blood after being ravaged by little baby pterodactyls who apparently have waited millions of years too feed and won't wait any longer, he yells at his companions (as usual an innocent group of travellers/scientists making the discovery of a lifetime) to leave him behind as he triggers the bomb that will make everything all right. Ca-le-feh to die is given a patriotic salute accompanied by a stirring string ochestra. His companions then run off, and he gives the usual run of the mill speech (to himself) about how he's fought them, bring it on bring it on, you gonna get it, bad boy! and then triggers the bomb with his last breath and boom! Everything's ok. And yes, in the final scene of the show, after hero and heroine are done making out, mysterious organ music begins and the camera zooms in on the one egg that somehow survives the bomb blast. The egg cracks, and as the little pterodactyl screeches, the screen turns black, then cue inspiring music and in big bold letters, as if anybody could be proud of producing a show like that, the words "DIRECTED BY".
The cantonese have a phrase for shows like this. OU HIUT. Vomit blood!
3 nuggets to go. Let there be something good on tv!
America's next top model was on. oho! Should be worth a watch. I caught the show halfway through, one of the contestants was having, very obviously, and eczema breakout. Having been victim of this allergy all my life, the lesions were readily recognizable. Dear model was having a fit, crying and crying about how her face is destroyed. Being in a show where beauty is numero uno, I suppose her distress could be understood. What really took the biscuit was the conversation between two other models, which is probably the stupidest scene I have ever witnessed on reality tv ever. Ever. Ever. I repeat, in case you haven't got the point, ever. Ever.
snooty model 1: you know what,*soft whispers* I've heard of things like this. Flesh eating bacteria. They eat you alive. We'd better not go near her, they're contagious.
snooty model 2: *suprised look*
FLESH EATING BACTERIA?? GROW SOME BRAINS CAN?? ATOPIC ECZEMA LAH PAN!!!! Just slap on some hydrocortisone and potassium maganate and she'll be fine in 2 days!!! wahlao eh!! The very definition of dumb blond man I tell you.
Still 3 nuggets to go. The sheer brainless absudity of the models threatened to trigger my vomiting reflex. As the cantonese say, OU HIUT.
Now onto the best.
As I flipped the channels in disgust, I stumbled upon a repeat of the Grammy Awards. Yay!
A tribute to Sly Stone's music was being performed, led by Joss Stone, that soulful blues songtress and Fantasia Barrino of American Idol 3 fame.
That's Fantasia, grooving with Sly Stone, the guy in the silver suit and mohawk. He's 61 years old by the way. I'll never be able to imagine my dad, let alone my grand dad in something like that. That's one cool old dude.
Joss Stone leading a posse of musicians in Sly Stone's tribute. Good stuff I tell you. That's Steve Tyler and John Legend there, no less.
And wahlao! The opening riffs were so amazingly groovy and jazzy and soulful that I almost jumped on my sofa and yelled "you sing it, sistas, you sing it!", spirit fingers er... spiriting. Times like these, I wish I was born black. As fate would have it, I'm a yellow-skinned, nugget-chomping chinaman with as much talent as Fantasia Barrino has in the nail of her little finger. All she has to do is twitch that little finger, and I'm outta my league.
As long as I'm on the topic of talent and angst, I might as well put in a mention of Eminem. Anyone heard his latest single, "when I'm gone"?
Have you ever loved someone so much you'd give an arm for?
not the expression, no, literally give an arm for?
When they know they're your heart
And you know you were their armour
And you will destroy anyone who would try to harm 'her
But what happens when karma, turns right around and bites you?
And everything you stand for, turns on you to spite you?
What happens when you become the main source of her pain?
"Daddy look what I made", Dad's gotta go catch a plane
Just listening to those opening lines I feel all crummy all over, as if I was the one pouring out my raw emotion into the song. The rhythm's amazing. The lyrical plays immaculate. The presentation, powerful. The emotion, feral. Now that's a song. Amazing stuff. I would post the rest of the lyrics here but they're just way too long. The moment that first bass beat and line comes in, you can just feel the raw honesty and desperation. You can almost see the pacing, growling lion that is his psyche. You can hear him hate himself for treating his daughter badly, how he craves reconciliation in her eyes. A true musician makes his audience feel what he's feeling, no matter the genre. Pat Methany does it with his guitar. Dennis Chambers, his drums. Victor Wooten, the bass. Eminem, his lyrics. I never thought I'd find such honest musicianship outside jazz. Genius indeed.
Alas, the nuggets have run out, and I'm done licking the sauce container (it could pass as a new, empty container now), so at long last I shall give myself to sleep. Munchies no more. Oh, and happy 25th birthday Wong Mei Fern. You're a quarter century old! wahahaha. |
posted by theycallmecruel @ 3:40 AM  |
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