Usus Goreng Kentucky

I sawed bones, played with innards and inflated intestines with water. Good fun. I felt a tad nostalgic because as a child, I loved playing with internal organs of slaughtered cows. It took about 10 minutes for me to saw off a relatively large bone whereas a shark could have easily bit it to bits in less than a second.
Tok was about to bury a set of intestines until I enquired "Boleh makan tak usus ni?"
Tok looked gravely at me, as if I said something taboo. "Boleh.." she replied hesitantly.
I inflated the intestines with water and it looked like something out of a war movie set. I then boiled it with a few pieces of perut. When softened, I mixed in Kentucky frying flour with egg whites before frying it to a crisp. When I sampled a finished product, the archangel Gabriel came down from the heavens and farted in my mouth. It was THAT beautiful! It tasted so good that I thought I should share it other people, which I did, only to receive a rather cold reception.
"Tapi sedap gilerrrr!" I insisted.
Tok, out of courtesy, pinched a finger-bite portion and swallowed it immeadiately. There was agony in her face and disgust in her squinting eyes.
"Sedap cucu tok masak.." she said unconvincingly.
Paksu defied medical explaination when he said he felt something queesy in his stomach just after eating a piece of intestine.
I returned to the kitchen and asked Kak Su. "Kenapa orang tak makan ya?"
"Orang sini memang buang bahagian dalaman. Kalau di Jawa sana, di kampung Kak Su, semuanya dimakan. Cumanya kami tak makan punggungnya."
"Bontot ayam tak makan?" a flashback of the whole family devouring satay tonggek. "Pelik."

Selamat Hari Raya Korban

Sacrifice is the word of the day. Sacrifice.


Prophet Ibrahim almost slayed his son prophet Prophet Ismail because he was instructed by God to do so. Sacrifice.

Mahathir slayed a few racist troublemakers with Ops Lalang to ensure peace in the country. Sacrifice.

Our country let PR win in several states to teach BN a lesson. Sacrifice.

School lessons were taught on tables just before SPM. Sacrifice.

SPM students who lives in hostels had to eat maggie because their canteens are flooded. Sacrifice.

To eat the maggie goreng cooked by my beloved father even when I'm on a strict diet. Sacrifice.
Selamat Hari Raya Korban. I think our cows have it good here. They can lepak-lepak and eat fresh grass. They are a character in a wajib-baca

Alor Setar

I'm off to Alor Setar. Tak sabar tengok banjir! Seen it, heard it but I never actually experience it.


It bothered me a bit that I live most of my life preoccupied with the past and future. My aspirations results nothing but anxiety and my past made me a product of consequences. I think almost everyone is trapped in this mindset prism. I feel connected to so many affiliations that it limits my progress to be the best that I can be. Race, language, religion, family background etc. are made to define who I am as a person.
Some people thinks those affiliations is very important to determine one's self worth. If Barrack Obama defines himself with his religion, race and family background, he wouldn't have become the first black president of the United States.
Who I am is a consequnce of what I am doing not what I did or about to do. This concept is still very new to me so I'm still adjusting.
I have a temper, my merajuk episodes are legendary. But when I understood the -I am who I am Now- concept, I made the best effort to see myself from another vantage point. For the sake of explaining, I see myself from a CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room. This very thought calmed me down a lot when I get temperamental.
At the risk of sounding preachy, let's do this together. Slowly shed off all our affiliations and be what we want to be.
I want to be on Oprah!
Oh wait, I heard she's retiring.

Afiq Tengah Emo

What does it take for me to get an internship? I just don't get it. I just don't fucking get it.

I'm tired of courting with ad agencies, sending dozens of resumes, sending in expensive portfolios and argh..! Can't you tell? I'm in a very bad mood today.

Everyone wants me to grab whatever is in front of me and run with it but I want more, something that is almost out of my reach. That's why I abandoned architecture and decided to take up advertising. But after months of trying to get in, I found myself in the same spot as I was when I first started. It is as if I was running in circles. I'm so frustrated with myself. I have to achieve more to show them I'm bloody fucking talented! I may not come from a rich family and have powerful connections but I am hardworking, passionate and fuming with eternal rage.

It's just so hard..! I'm only human. Forgive me for showing my weakness for a few minutes. I know I have to work harder, fuck off. I know I have to do more, don't tell me 'What are you waiting for!'
I need a shoulder to cry on that's all. Everyone thinks I'm strong and have a bright future, as if I was given a silver spoon from the get go. I fooled a lot of people, I know. I have a bankrupt mother and a father who retired early from the police force. I'm not priviledged so yes, to a certain extent, I am strong. Don't be fooled with my english. Not all english speaking malays are well off. I am a sad charity case. I live in my aunts' houses, not being able to afford to rent my own. This is a case for many people my age but they settled for less. I want more. But more is fucking hard to get. It's achievable but as I wallow in my misery, it seems like a continent away.

Emo is my word for today. I'm very emo today. With a life so stagnant and unproductive like mine, I can't help it. Let me be.


Knifey the cat was successfully neutered yesterday. I can't help but to be reminded of my own circumcision.
(bites lips)
The sting of the injection, the pain, the pain, the pain. And the kenduri! I can't believe they prepared delicious food for everyone EXCEPT Nael and I. We were only allowed to eat porridge and bland steamed fish. To make matters worse, every kid who came to the kenduri received 3 packs of Mamee Monster EXCEPT for us.
Everytime I meet my relatives, a voice from the sub-conscious tells me "They have seen your penissssss~" I remembered having people lifting the hung cloth that covered my bare lower body to see my penis, acknowledge it and conclude with a curt "Elok." Some even gave me money after seing my newly circumcised penis. Was it even necessary to look? Nael didn't get as much attention though. I was told by an older second cousin that visitors were curious about my privates.
"Depa nak check betoika kalau budak puteh teloq dia puteh jugak"
Really? Do you people really want to know this?
We spent a week playing video games until we got sick of it (which was a very strange new feeling) and reading Mr Q, Doraemon, Kapten Tsubasa and Dragon Ball Z.
I see that kids nowadays don't have to be held captives by their grandmothers anymore. Their circumcised penis are fitted with a plastic case that enables them to carry on with their normal lives.
Umph. Memanglah senang but it comes with a price. No big kenduri, no duit sunat and no special favours!
Padan muka! (dan kote)

Knifey (pronounced Nigh-Fee)the cat was neutered yesterday. Potong. Kniefey is now officially an eunuch. Talking about potong, oh man, I can't help but to be reminded of the day I was circumsised.

(bites lips)

I was 8. Nael was 10. Our fathers made an appointment with a local clinic during the school holidays. For one of the most important phase of our lives, we were the least informed about the whole process. It was as if everyone was preparing a ceremony for the sake of it.

All the married women camped at the back of the house and automatically reprised their roles. They chopped onions, marinated chunks of lamb, mixed acar and blendered spices that makes up for a delicious feast tomorrow. I watched on as they finish their cooking and kept all the food in large pots to be refridgerated. If I knew then that I wasn't able to eat any of the food prepared the next day, I would've sneaked into the kitchen and rummage through all the pots like a starved street rat.

We woke up early in the morning for a silly photography session dressed in baju melayu, P Ramlee style sampin and tanjak. We looked like miniature Sultans.


Knifey (pronounced Nigh-Fee)the cat was neutered yesterday. Potong. Kniefey is now officially an eunuch. Talking about potong, oh man, I can't help but to be reminded of the day I was circumsised.

(bites lips)

I was 8. Nael was 10. Our fathers made an appointment with a local clinic during the school holidays. I knew


Yes, I still have high hopes to make films but for the time being, I'm concentrating on making advert videos. Trained as an architect, I'm really good when it comes to translating briefs. I won 4 short video competitions and lost in all the short film competitions I entered. I'm not saying I sucked at making film but I am very inexperienced in this field. I think a certain level of maturity is needed to make good films and I haven't found my 'voice' yet.
Even though I haven't won any awards yet for the two short films I made, 4 Peringkat Ajal is a cult classic in UIA and is available in almost all PCs in UIA colleges. This made all my actors and actresses who worked pro bono local celebrities. Even the late Yasmin Ahmad watched 4 Peringkat Ajal and commented:

I want to be a Creative Director like Yasmin Ahmad. I want to make successful ads and make films as a hobby. Sounds a lot like Yasmin Ahmad right? Haha, I aspire to be as good or better than her in the future.

I felt that it was a sign that she collapsed a week before the day she was going to interview me! I was like "Die lah like this! God doesn't want me to be in advertising!" But then again, everything happens for a reason and I think her passing taught me that I have to pave my own path in order to reach my dreams. What are my dreams you ask? Winning an Oscar is one of them!

I'm currently making 3 advert videos for 3 international competitions. It is my wish to get acknowledged internationally so I'll be able to work in ad agencies in cities like London, New York, Hong Kong or Bangkok. Those places are Meccas of advertising! I'm so excited to start these 3 projects. Anyone who wants to help me with your ideas are welcomed to do so.

“When you reach for the stars you may not quite get one, but you won't come up with a handful of mud either.” -Leo Burnett


If you've been reading this blog long enough, you would know that my childhood is not exactly normal. It is statistically normal but still considered as a cultural taboo. I still don't understand this. In some cases, divorce is inevitable in a marriage but yet, the aftermath that takes its stride soon after is an unquantifiable mystery.

I'm greatful to have enjoyed the first 10 years of my life with my parents still together. My childhood at this very important stage, was in tact. Unlike my brothers, they have very little recollections of what happened during their childhood. It was as if their first decade was craddled in a formula 1. It happened so fast that they themselves, to this very day, could not comprehend the gravity of their past.

Although granted with a relatively happy childhood, I was denied of its namesake. Everyone thinks that reminiscing about my childhood is a painful ordeal, so to save me from any more pain, my past is treated like an empty void. I hated being a subject of pity so I pretended that the divorce didn't affect me at all. I used to put up pictures of my family on the wall everytime we move to a new place (we moved a lot since the divorce) only to be scolded by my mother.

"Kenapa Afiq letak gambar your father and umi dekat dinding."

"Sebab ada Afiq, bapak dan umi lah.."

For her, that picture might have represented broken dreams, unfulfilled destinies and unrealised hopes. But for me it was a picture of my family. Umi became vengeful to a point that anything related to bapak is deemed unholy and taboo. I don't see why my mother can't put aside her anger to let me cling on to my love of my family. My family. I have a family and it is mine. It might not be hers but it's mine so I became increasingly defensive of my past.
By then I began a habit of tracking old pictures and hiding them for safekeeping. I put all the pictures of my childhood in a box and carried it everywhere I go. To school, to an island during vacation and anywhere that required me to pack a bag.

Unlike many children raised by a divorced single parent, I refused to go through life with an unspoken past. How will one carry on walking forward without the knowledge of the tested paths? With my childhood safely guarded in a plastic case cellotaped in a shoebox, nothing can ever overwrite my childhood. No tahfiz, no drunk chinaman, no addicted gambler, no, nothing can ever tarnish the fact that I was happy as a child.
But in truth, I was not always happy.
No, I was mostly miserable as a child. I had a normal but traumatising childhood. I won't go to further details but my childhood was shrouded with suicide attempts, shouting, fighting and a lot of unforgetable consequences of conflicts. Sometimes I think my brothers are more fortunate for not being able to remember their childhood because I remembered every minute of it. Every single burst of emotions, every scar on my body, everytime I forced myself to shut my ears and eyes is always, always a thought away.
I live with the pain of hiding my pain everyday. I realised today why people around me will turn a blind curb when talking about my past. It is painful to reminisce. It is better to keep the subject of my childhood a forced secret. I myself never attempted to properly bind all the old photos in an album. Instead, the photographs are stacked, only revealing a smiling facade; an indication of happiness inconceivable to me.
I know this seems unfair but the only way for this pain turn to a thing of the past is to have both my parents reconcile their differences and stop fighting. I want to sit with them in the same room and ask them why they acted the way they did after the divorce. Why couldn't they settle their difference for my sake? Why?
Why can't they just let me be happy?

The End of World

I realised how fragile we are as human beings after watching 2012.
I define myself by the people I acquainted myself with, which can be less than a thousand people. And yet when I stroll along a shopping complex, I always feel that I'm unique and my uniqueness is worth noting. Of course I don't dress weird or act a certain way to get attention, but a healthy dose of self esteem dictates that I feel a little bit special about myself. This is a delusion that makes me, or you, or anyone else feel a tinge of exclusion. To be comfortably isolated makes up for the reality of my anonymity.
But when disaster strikes, who am I to the eyes of others? I am just an obstacle, another mouth to feed, another body to sustain.
When disaster strikes, will I have enough means to escape and live to see tomorrow? If there is a special selection of people to survive earth when let's say 2 million people are chosen to board a gigantic arc, (like in the movie 2012) will I qualify to get in?
This is not an emotional response to another disaster movie, 2012 is a reality check for me. How will I fare when the best of minds and hands are rounded up for survival? I'm nothing. I'm no one!
From the minute I left the cinema hall, I felt that for me to survive, I've to be best in whatever I choose to do. I want to be the one of the 2 million chosen ones, that saving my life will do justice to the rest of the dying (or dead) human race.
Okay, maybe I'm being stupid for taking this movie seriously but think about it.... think about it for a moment and make a significant change of lifestyle. If life as we know ends in 2 years, what should you be doing now?


It's the last Friday the 13th today. Whether or not it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, I'm anticipating a bout of frustration today.
So what better way to lighten up this rather grim day than to over analyse things around me?
P1 Wimax and Streamyx are figthing it all in their advertisments nowadays. P1 is asking you to potong. Streamyx tells you to not trust a beginner with a P probation sticker. Whatever it is, both companies are fighting to get you to use their product which is the internet. One is offering a wireless service and the other sticks to the traditional cables.
I was in Subang Parade a few days ago and I saw a rather weird printed advertisment:

The midget scale carboard advertises suppliments that can make you lose weight and not look like an apple or a pear. Nothing weird there right?

But a stone throw away, there's a fruit stall.

Weird isn't it? Was the motivation of using fruits as representations of fat people a geographical response? Or was it just coincidental?

Whatever it is, it didn't appeal to me. A simple: Ayurfat or AyurSlim? would've been more fruitful.

(forgive me God for I have pun-ned)

What Do You See?

What comes in mind when you see these images?

I don't know about you but whenever I see these images, I see Kelantan.

Let's Talk About Love

Or the lack of it. Let's do that. Let's talk about Afiq's non existent love life. What does that mean anyway? Love life. For me it implies that a couple has had sex thus it becomes intergral in the structure of the couple's relationship. Sex. The insertion of one's phallus into the holy of holies.
What is love without sex? It's meaningless really. Love of God, parents, family and iPod aside, love means nothing without sex when you're in my age. That's all I think about when I'm not thinking of anything else important. I'll dream of it (Xena warrior princess in leopard prints) once in a while and wash my pants in the sink. You see, the longing for sex is so great that I don't buy lovey dovey craps in form of forwarded emails by bored cubicle prisoners.
Have I ever been in love? I thought I was in love but I was deceived. What I felt was simple and unadulterated happiness. It's like saving a kitten and bringing it home with dreams and hopes that kitten will be well taken care of (until your parents comes home and conspire with the maid to bring Sylvester to a faraway Pasar Ikan)
Love is an expression that has varied capacity. Like faith. And like anything quantifiable, the extent of its measure is tangible. It will grow on me, the concept of love.
I'm not expecting the right girl to come along and steal my heart away because I must first have a heart susceptible to love and right now, my heart is only beating to rythm of Tap Tap Revenge2. I'm not ready and I know it. She knows it too, wherever she is.


When asked to describe the colour pink, I will typically answer "The underbelly of a newborn piglet, Legally Blonde, So What?, fat american tourists, Barbie Dolls, Pusat Serenti Malaysia."

But today is a special day. Today is a Pink Day. It's the day to commemorate Breast Cancer survivors, sufferers and everything positive and uplifting that has to do with Breast Cancer.

Radiology Malaysia's new slogan for this year's Breast Cancer Campaign is

I Check, I Act, I Live.
I think it's pretty fitting. It's simple and straight to the point.
Girls, grab a Dove and lather your breasts with Dove's mosturising goodness. Search for any sign of lumps that is not your sad excuse of a mosquito bite breasts. If you find nothing out of the ordinary, you might as well continue lathering them with essential oil, record it with your phone and send it to your nearest MP with a label 'Warga Singapura diraba polis wanita Malaysia. We need to pick a fight with them Merlions so that the water issue will resurface. Let's challenge Lee Kuan Yew's contract with God!

If you find a lump, tell your parents and go get a mammogram scan. Remember, 7% breast cancer patients are aged 30 and below. 2% are men with man boobs/moobs.
Today is the first time I wore pink.

I've always thought pink is a sissy colour. Pink is scientifically proven to weaken men's burst of testosterone. It makes Hulk Hogan hug puppies. But the thing is, we are unaffected by all the side effects of seeing pink if we wear them (unless there are mirrors everywhere). It makes other men mild and weak. Now I know why Donald Trump wears a pink tie!

Be a King, Wear Pink.

Happy Breast Cancer Day everybody.
Do Check, Do Act, Do Live.

A Survey by Any Other Name....

I don't think the flower in the picture are roses but... they sure smelled like roses.
Time for some self-indulgence on personal preference that no one cares about.
My favourite flower have always been the ones that are edible like flower-shaped candy and chocolates.
My favourite food is actually, listen up people, actually... kari kambing.
My favourite drink is 100 plus because I sweat a lot and isotonic liquid replenishes perspiration faster.
My favourite place in the whole wide world is available in all homes, hotels or restaurants. Toilet lah!
My favourite movie is... still Dumbo. I especially like the part when Dumbo's mother cradle Dumbo in her her trunk from inside her cage. Sampai sekarang boleh menitis air mata tangok.
My favourite song is Oklahoma by Billy Gilman. For obvious reasons? (check out the song in Youtube to know what I mean)
My fovourite boybands are DBSK and NeWS! Asia untuk Asia.
My fovourite colour is black because wearing anything with that colour makes me look thinner.
My favourite fruit is manggo.
My favourite brand? Hmmm.. for shoes Nike but when it comes to the clothes I wear, I don't really give a shit.
My favourite car is either the one in Back to the Future or Flubbers.
Bestlah jawab survey ni. Tenang hatiku yang gemuruh ini.


My aunt finds it weird that I'm too embarrassed to be shirtless.
"Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Haish....! Mana ada, Afiq malu je. Orang gay lagi suka tunjuk badan kot."

It's true, I'm not gay. I'm just very very very shy. The only people who have seen me shirtless in a regular basis are doctors and X-ray assistants. Aha, and you dear readers. It's not uncommon for you to see pictures like this posted once in a while:

Even though the are dozens of shirtless pictures of me in my blog, I'm almost never shirtless in real life (except when I'm taking shirtless photos) which is, I agree with you now Auntie, weird.

Anyway, I can't be bothered to take such photos anymore. I'm in the middle of transforming myself. I'm eating healthy and exercising to lose all the fat I acquired during raya. I'm still deciding how my body should look like so I haven't decided on a particular regime yet.

So what do you think?

Should I be:

A. Toned with only 2% body fat.

B. Slightly muscular but with bulging biceps and pecs.

C. Athletic looking (a mixture of toned and muscular body)

D. Buffie (refer to earlier blog entry)

Diet & Exercise

I've to admit, proper diet and exercise is foreign to me. For years, my rapid metabolic rate and active lifestyle made up for all the nonsensical gorging. A sitting of lunch alone consists of 3 plates of mixed food. Dinner... oh well, you get the picture.