I was playing Battlefield and this dude rolls up in a tank and I’m like “holy crap I’m going to die!” so I’m running around trying to dodge shells. Then his tank gets damaged so he jumps out to do repairs. While this is happening, I run right up to the now empty tank and reverse it over him and one of his boyfriends and kill them both. AWW YEAH PWN3D!! USA! USA! USA!

….and of course, going online probably isn’t helping me.

I woke up an hour and a half ago from a bad dream. I dreamed I was Spider Man, and I was in a fight with Wolverine, who began charging at me. I woke up swinging my arm and feeling my heart race.

And now I can’t go back to sleep! I gave up trying after about a half hour of tossing and turning.

I know this sounds pretty weird. I’m not even that big on comic books (any more). I’ve never dreamed that I was frikken Spider Man before.

You know how they say you get nightmares when you eat too pizza? I guess I actually did eat a lot of things I don’t normally eat - Kerri’s mom and one of her friends were in town, so I was driving them around. We ate lunch at the Orleans Casino buffet where I had two huge plates of crawfish, a had a big glass of pepsi (I usually don’t drink soda). Later on Kerri’s mom also bought me a big ice cream cone (I usually don’t eat ice cream). Then I had chilli and rice.

Actually..between the soda and the ice cream, I think I ate about twenty times more sugar than I usually do in a day. I don’t think it was the crawfish.. but at any rate I can’t sleep now, and my thoughts are disjointed and I’m rambling. Battlefield Bad Company 2 to the rescue!!! (ie: I’m going to go play video games until I pass out, which should be right around when the sun is rising)

Crazy night at Rok last night. Danced with a lady and realized she was kind of old when I grabbed her hand to spin her and it felt a little dry and wrinkly. Woke up on Reid’s couch again this morning - I had my shoes this time, but not my car! I really need to get this stuff down.

The ‘past’ does not truly exist. Neither does the ‘future’. They are only memories and expectations. The only real thing is the fleeting present.

What was once “Friday night” is now a blur of random memories. Here are some of them.

• The plan is to meet up downtown around 7. I get there at 6 so I could go look at some art. Turns out all the galleries are closed except for one.
• I wander around a bit trying to figure out how to kill an entire hour. I make my way down to Indigo for a few beers.
• I’m at Indigo sitting at the bar. Barback tells me that they may have moved “First Friday” to the month’s second Friday, but wasn’t sure. Bartender chimes in and tells me that tonight is the first time in 16 years they are open on Jan1 because of First Friday. Everyone seems confused, and pissed to have to work on New Years.
• Big white lady comes to the bar right next to me and leans in to ask the bartender for a drink suggestions for her friend. She wants something sweet and creamy or light.
• I suggest the Colorado Bulldog to big white lady. She’s never heard of the drink before but likes the suggestion as her friend is originally from Colorado. I never did find out what her friend thought.
• An asshole Euro guy (or maybe Australian I’m not sure) comes up and asks if they use “fresh cream in their chi chi’s”. He is unhappy with the drinks they got and says the cream tasted like it was curdling (does coconut cream even curdle?).
• Bartender is pissed at Euro guy’s attitude (she and I exchanged the “is this guy for real?” look as he complained). Bartender offers to re-make the drink, or suggests margaritas. Euro guy says it’s for his kids, orders fruit punch as replacement, and returns to his table.
• Bartender is even more pissed now at whatever waiter took the order because the original ticket wasn’t for virgin drinks.
• I leave Indigo shortly after, thank the bartender and barback, and say “Hey. Your year will get better.”
• I make my way to Bar 35.
• I get a text from my friend. They are running late. My 1 hour to kill becomes 3.
• Sitting at the bar of Bar35, I order a PBR. My first bottlecap is the Ace of Hearts. “A good way to start off the night” says the bartender.
• A couple sitting next to me is trying new beers. They get red seal ale per the bartender’s suggestion. I just drank that for the first time a few days prior. I ask them if they like it. They do.
• Two white girls come to order drinks. A few minutes of conversation later I’m asking them “How do you not know what PBR is?” Turns out they were born and raised in Hawaii (Kailua). I totally forgot there are white people born on this island, too.
• White girls (actually I found out one was hapa) and I are trying to decide who’s older. They say “We’re pretty old” and I look at them and reply “I’m probably older”. Turns out I was right (yay me!) They invite me to meet their friends who are all in the back but I’m still waiting for mine so I tell them maybe later.
• My friends come. I’ve had about six or seven drinks by then.
• The rest is a little more blurry.
• At some point, white girls from a few lines up leave the club with their friends (who are more white girls). One of them sees me on the way out and gives a friendly wave. I wave back but don’t talk to them again. They are the first people I met in 2010.
• There’s some dancing, and a lot of bad music.
• Cool Haole girl comes up dancing to one of the girls in our group.
• Uncool Haole girl starts saying stupid shit. A fight nearly happens.
• Very uncool Haole girl and her boyfriend are kicked out by security.
• More bad music. Less dancing on my part.
• More bad music, now combined with bad DJ’ing. We leave.
• We all cram in and take a cab over to Bar7. Cab driver is a pervy old dude who uses too much cologne.
• At Bar7 I am standing around surrounded by little kids and feeling really old.
• At Bar7 I run out of steam and bail out on my friends early (to my credit, it should be noted again that I DID start my night about three hours earlier than everyone else did). But sorry friends!
• I walk about two blocks before finding a cab to hail on Keamoku Street.
• Cab driver is looking like a total terrorist, with the cheap long sleeved shirt and all. Nice guy though. He tells me he’s originally from Bangladesh.
• Cab driver begins rants about how he’s got no customers all night and a family to support, which is why he has to work on the night of New Years. “First Friday?! Is bullshit this month!” he says. “Downtown! What a joke!” I tell him I agree. (Cab driver giving off a little more terrorist vibe now).
• As taxi enters freeway, driver puts on a cassette of Islamic Prayer.
• Cab driver asks me if I know what this is. “The Holy Quaran” he says and goes on about how it’s a beautiful history. Not sure if he’s trying to freak me out. (terrorist vibe goes up a notch)

• I tell cab driver that my parents are originally from Malaysia and I’m vaguely familiar with Muslim prayer ritual. “Five times a day, right?” I ask.
• Cab driver is now significantly nicer to me. Terrorist vibe goes back down and now we’re just two dudes talking about life. I realize that cab driver may have been inadvertently been giving me the terrorist vibe in response to me inadvertently giving him the gelled-hair drunk douchebag vibe earlier on. The rest of the trip is pleasant.
• Fare is $15.60. I give cab driver a 20 and tell him to keep the change.
• It is 3am and my night is now over. Before hitting the sack, I have enough energy to change clothes and brush my teeth, which is a lot better than some nights.

I’m sitting around right now watching TV and I just saw that stupid commercial for the Chase Sapphire card, where a spoiled wife walks in wearing a new dress, and her pussy husband starts suggesting they trade their points in for all these awesome looking vacations. Only to find out that the wife already blew the points for said dress. The husband’s reaction isn’t anger, but glee. What an idiotic commercial!

Apparently there are a lot of other people who take issue with the commercial. Check out this vid, which shows the commercial but with an ending that makes more sense.

I’ve been trying to eat oatmeal a little more often. I figure/hoped that if I just kept eating it, I’d eventually get used to it.

I’ve been trying to flavor the stuff with jam or honey, and I started getting sick of always eating it sweet. Then some days ago, I came across a recipe for savory oatmeal, which is just regular oatmeal, but cooked with sea salt, some green onions, and shoyu.

I tried it…dude. It’s good.

I mean, it kind of tasted like jook. I know the thought of salty oatmeal is kind of weird, but so is the thought of sweet rice. And people eat that, too.

I tried it again just now, and this time used yellow onions, a leftover hamburger patty, an egg, and even more white pepper. I shit you not, it tastes just like jook. Except it’s way faster to make, you don’t need leftover rice, and it’s a lot better for you. Try it. I’m serious.

It’s Monday night and I just got home again. I’m still a bit hung over and probably won’t be drinking again any time soon.

We went to Revolution again last night. And then I woke up this morning at Reid’s place again. That’s all I can remember.

No, not really, but last night was kind of fuzzy for me. We met up with two of Lori’s friends who just got in from LA. In the club, we got a table and a few bottles of vodka. From what Reid was telling me, and from what I remember, there were a few events from last night:

- We went through several bottles of vodka.
- There were these two korean girls there that we brought up to our table. Turns out they were a mother and daughter.
- There was a random white girl who Reid got introduced to, and grinded on him the rest of the night. And then her grandparents picked her up. Yes, her grandparents. No joke. You can not make this stuff up.

It was good times, though…from what I hear. I really need to lay off the hards; not being able to remember epic times is a tragedy.

So I finally got home about an hour ago, after meeting up with Kerri for some pho (which isn’t quite as good when the temperature is in the upper 90’s). I took a shower, and noticed that there are two red bruises on my shins, right under the knees. I have no idea what the hell happened last night, but I hope it was awesome.

We met up with Reid and Lori last night for dinner at the Yardhouse. Afterwards, Reid and I went to a club called Revolution over at the Mirage. I don’t remember much; we drank a bunch, I clinked glasses with a guy and broke his glass with my beer bottle and had to buy him another drink. I also danced with a couple of black people and danced with a big black girl, then her really big scary looking husband came over, and I danced with him a little, shouted “all right! minorities!” and highfived him.

I vaguely remember someone taking a picture of us together. I have no idea who those people are and will never see them again but they’ll remember me as the skinny little yellow kid who started dancing with them. Later in the night, the guy got tired of dancing with his wife or something and made me dance with her again.

We caught a cab back home to Reid’s place. I just woke up a few hours ago and I’m still here now. I’m slightly hung over and have the chills. I have no idea where Reid lives, and I think he’s still asleep. But I think he’s supposed to start work soon? I better go and try to wake him up. That guy’s my ride home.

Badasia time: Wed 6/17. 9:49am

After about four days in Singapore, we got back to Malaysia on Sunday night. We’re staying at another uncle’s place in Kuala Lumpur now (Oh yeah, I have a whole lot of uncles and aunts here; my mom’s from a family of 13 kids who all took different paths in life, and most are still here in Malaysia).

My uncle here is really cool guy. The dude went to college in Arizona and grew his hair really long and probably partied every single night. He has some crazy stories. When he came back to Malaysia, he grew up, got responsible, got married, and has a great family with three kids and a maid who can cook awesome curry.

He also has an internet connection.

Anyway, Singapore was interesting. We stayed with our mom most of the time helping her get stuff done, but there was one night when Evan and I went out to somewhere called Boat Quay, where my cousin told us there were a bunch of pubs. There, we wandered around and drank at random places until we winded up at this pub full of local Singaporeans and Karaoke.

Their english song selection was pretty limited. They didn’t have Eve6 or Poison, but we managed to find some Journey and Bon Jovi (good songs, but way too hard to sing, so I usually never do). Evan and I sang and made complete [American] assholes of ourselves. It was good times.

I think I like going out at night in Asia more - somehow it just seems different. I had the same feeling when we went out in Hong Kong and Taiwan. I think it’s because people get less rowdy, and seem a lot nicer (I guess it helps that we look just like them here though). While we were at that Karaoke place, some random drunk girl ran up to me and made me switch drinks with her (give me back my beer, bitch!). Later on, the manager of the place also came to talk with us. When we told him we were heading to KL next, he told us was from there and wrote down a bunch of things for us to check out.

Oh yeah, and later in the night he gave us free drinks. (then again he probably overcharged us for our first few rounds when he heard me speaking American).

Oh yeah part 2, he also gave me his phone number. Hey guys! I got a phone number!

Anyway, Singapore was fun. On our last night there, we went with our mom to the Night Safari, which cost upwards of $20US, but was really cool because you could sit on a tram and watch nocturnal animals out and about.

But anyway. Like I said, we’re back in Malaysia now, in Kuala Lumpur. My uncle took us to this Japanese buffet for dinner last night and I ate a bunch of a sashimi and about 15 oysters. In typical ‘the-fongs-have-no-luck’ fashion, I took a gamble and lost. I started paying for those oysters about an hour after we got home. I hit the crapper about four times last night and the only reason I haven’t gone today is because my stomach’s got nothing left to give. It was worth it, though! (okay maybe it wasn’t worth it).

So I’m packing my bag just now and this is the first time I’ve used the thing since we first moved back in September. At the bottom of the bag, I found one of Kerri’s necklaces!

We thought a plumber stole it back in September when we first got here and reported a leaking toilet to the property managers. It was a little sadder because it was one of Kerri’s favorite necklaces that I picked up for her in Taiwan.

So it turns out the necklace was never stolen after all. Good thing we never made a complaint!