In 13 days, October 11th 2006 to be exact, I would have not cut my hair for 2 years. (Minus the 500th-day sideburn trim.)

I think I'll keep it for a while, still, for I have found more reasons to treasure my hair lately. For one, it's never the same; meet me 3 months later and you'd think I had a different hairstyle. What cheaper way to have different styles of hair than to leave it to grow through phases? (short, slight thickness, poking your eyes, poking your nose, poking your mouth, so heavy your hair doesn't puff, shoulder-length, long-enough-to-tuck-under-armpits-length, covering-your-bosom-length, covering-your-navel-length, replacing-your-... er, nevermind.)

My plan, after growing it till it makes no difference, would be to make dreadlocks, and then go bald, and then look like a boy again. But then I'd miss headbanging like so.


(Credits to smashpOp for taking these pictures.)

Anyway.

I was at my distraught-friend's birthday party, sitting at this rather quiet sober table with this guy and two hot chicks. Let's label them hot chicks as Lisa and Shel.

The guy was telling stories about how he was hopelessly gentlemanly with girls, and how his friends tell him off for being a nice guy.

He once bought a girl a Hush Puppy, stuffed a RM1,800 ring inside, stitched it up, and intended to tell her on their anniversary... except of course, they didn't get that far. (He couldn't sneak back and switch it with a new one because he'd face a butchering.)

Despite him sounding all sweet and pathetic-to-gain-adorability, he treaded the careful line between pathetic and AWWW. The girls were lapping it all up! Shel, this particular chick which I'd been checking out, her eyes were affixed on him, body and knees pointed in his direction, looking at him eagerly, with an expression that read, "And then? And then? Tell me more stories of how you are the last remaining gentleman in town!"

She held that position even when he left to refill our drinks for us.

When he returned, he told stories of how he had to live alone for 3 weeks when his parents went overseas. He didn't know how to operate the washing machine! (Hence my independence manifesto.)

And so, I sat there, listening to his stories, how he told it, analysing his method.

Anyway.

The birthday girl came over to our table to talk to us.

Birthday-girl: LISAAA! I LOVE YOUR HAIRRR!!! *squeals*
Lisa: Thanks! I wish I didn't cut it though, I prefer it like his! His hair is nice! (She pointed to me.)

I then said "Thank you!" and I untied my hair, letting it loose.



Shel, who had previously been paying full attention to the other guy, turned swiveled (with knees and all) to me. She looked at me intently and asked:

"Are you a musician?"

OMG PWNED! :D

(I normally detest 1337speak, but it had to be used in this context.)

Does anybody want to hear the rest of the story anyway?

P.S. Interestingly, my hair grosses out my gay friend. He claims that whatever he likes, a girl will like too, and whatever he doesn't like, a girl wouldn't like either. So I have found the exception to the rule, to stop attracting guys and yet entice girls! I think.

In a cab ride to an LRT station: (Cab driver's speech in italics and language was made more grammatically correct)

So where are you going?
I'm going to meet a friend at Kelana Jaya, and then we'll take a cab to a friend's birthday party.
Oooh. Guy's birthday party or girl's birthday party?
A girl's birthday party.
OOOH, good. Don't waste your time going for a guy's birthday party. At least you go to a girl's birthday party, maybe you get a chance to sleep with her. Guy? Guy, what for?
Er, maybe he invited girls?
Yeah, but it's still better to be friends with girls. When you have no money, you can borrow money from them. Girls can pity you. Girls will lend you money!

As much as you may disagree, I know damn well that some girls prove his last statement right.

Wow, your pocket so big. What is that?
It's a digital camera.
Oooh. If I had one, I tell you, I will take pictures of pretty girls. Especially those with big boobs. I tell you, driving around all day, I see many girls with big boobs! It's quite fun to talk to them also.
Ooo.
But I tell you... boobs are nice to take pictures of, but if you wanna grab, better to grab the butt. More satisfying.
Eh? Why is that?
I tell you ah, sometimes they look big only. Pushup, dressing, all bluff you wan. When I touch ah, I disappointed lah. It only looks big, but not... fulfilling.
Maybe that's because we guys have a butt, and so we know what a butt feels like, and so we won't be disappointed?
Hmmm, yes, definitely.
Yeah, there was this Italian-Malay chick whose butt I grabbed, and it was much more satisfying than I thought for its size. So fulfilling. So full. (I don't know why I blurted that bit... and to this day, I refer to her as the "chick-whose-butt-I-grabbed". And no, I never blogged about her.)
Wah. Good for you young man!
Maybe because we don't have boobs, we see boobs, we don't know what to expect. We stare at them all day, then we end up expecting more? But if a girl likes girls, she surely won't be disappointed.
Yeah. Boobs are nice to look at. Butt is for grabbing.

There is some truth to his boobs-are-to-look-at, butt-to-grab observation - I just realized that I rarely take spy pictures of butts. A butt is easier to grab in public (I'm referring to consenting people, of course.)

No wonder some girls wish for a bigger ass.

P.S. Dide the (then) juvenile ass-grabber can attest to my butt being montel. Refer to my Friendster testimonials wayyy back. Yes, despite me looking like I have no ass I assure you she enjoyed grabbing it.

Over the past few days, I have been asked this question many times again:

"How come you're always surrounded by hot chicks?"

It's not just guys who ask. Girls who set up PLU blogs do, too. Straight girls too... I think.

So what is it about Albert, who is not as tall as a basketball player, does not have a car, does not have any publicly-visible tattoos, does not smoke, does not have a credit card, has long unruly hair, that lets Albert know these hot chicks?

I don't know, I could be good-looking or something.

But I'll tell you what I think works.

A guy should have technical understanding over something that is otherwise magic to young impressionable girls, namely fashion, gossip, rollies (for girls who smoke), contacts to free flow of alcohol, magic tricks with a deck of cards, lomography cameras, a camera with a swivel screen (to ease camwhoring) and maybe even a do-it-yourself infrared camera, like this:


An infrared camera picks up infrared light as well as normal light, so it works better in the dark. Grace has conspired to steal my camera.


I don't know why she calls herself thiathia, when her real name is Cindy. Nama glamour lari nak mampus. (Kel Li pronounces thiathia so obscenely!)

It would be good, too, to be metrosexual in knowledge. Identify mascara, eyelashes, eyebrows, etc. Don't just say that she has nice eyes. My long hair has helped me relate somewhat to the struggles of keeping long hair (as opposed to keeping in touch with my feminine side.) I can geek out about why Loreal smells better.

Who cares if you can solve the Rubik's Cube in under one minute? Who cares if you can play Yngwie Malmsteen stuff on guitar? It's all about the visceral effect. You gotta learn your pop songs so she can sing along.

...and yes, I'm reminding all of you here yet again, yes I do play guitar and I look sexy doing it.

I also take pictures, and that looks sexy to some people too.

Who cares if you're into philosophy? Don't try to impress her with intelligence, because she wouldn't be able to relate to the topics you talk about. :P (Whether that means pretty girls think of less complicated things, or that you think of more complicated things, is up to your own interpretation.)

Learn a skill that girls usually try to pick up, and then drop out of, e.g. how to tune a guitar and change its strings. You could also learn how to set up MMS/Bluetooth on any fashionista's phone (familiarize yourself with obscure phone brands for this!)

Even girls, girls like pretty girls. Girls don't go out alone. Girls don't go to the toilet alone. They gotta have friends to go shopping, and they gotta have hot friends. They want to feel happening too. They stalk hot blogs. So associate yourself with famous people, and lure them with the idea that they might get to meet them. Sorry Joyce, I abuse our acquaintance-ship. :P Here's your infrared picture from ages ago:


"What, you've been going around telling girls that you know me and thus they get to say hi to me and think you're such a happening guy and therefore want to get in your pants?"

If you see a hot chick, she is more often than not with a bunch of hot chicks.

When was the last time you saw a bunch of hot guys? In a gay bar?

Guys generally do not hang out with hot guys. They're competition. Girls hang out with hot girls. They fail to see the logic, but who's to complain?

So, associate with one, and the rest will come rolling. Easier said than done, but once started, you'd wonder how it all began.


Oh and a final random piece of advice: When buying a drink for a lady sitting over there, make sure the waitress gives your message written on a tissue and identifies you. The waitress passed the drink and message, but didn't identify the guy! This infrared picture shows that infrared photography makes written ink invisible. :O For the benefit of those unable to read embossed letters, it said, "CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU".

Out of the blue, a friend asked on MSN:

albert are you gay?
hahahahaha why
tell me honestly, are you?
why do you think so ah
hmmm
you think i like rainbows? you wanna introduce me to a guy?
do you have frens who are gay?
yes, i have friends who are gay
ok..do you know how diff gay?
how different?
how to differentiate lar
well, gays usually like Mariah Carey
really?
yeah
why arr?
why la you asking
cuz arr...hmmmm im kinda fall for someone lor... frens all suspect he is a gay
then he probably is. :P
arr?
introduce to me la, then i find out for you ;)
u know why..cuz that's usually a guy in and out with him, wearing the same design pendant, same hair style
means matching?
hmm... what do u think?
how about his shoes? are they very clean?
yeah. very
OOOOOOOOOO
he's my instructor lar
instructor for? gym?
yeah
is his hand soft? i mean, like when he talks, does he flop his hand
hmm i didnt notice
means don't have la? wait wait, why you suspect me aaa?
maybe yes but i didnt notice
how would you know if i am gay?
i dont know... heard from ed long time ago, i couldnt remember
so why did he say that?
hahaha
i mean, he got reasons ah? i mean, i thought i look pretty straight
you heard from Ed... or Shaz?
yo you there?
wait arr on the phone
ok

If I told her I wasn't, I would not be able to find out why she thought I was gay.

The next day, I watched Actorlympics, where the flamboyant gay guys were the funniest, as always.

The day after that, I was kissed by a guy. Two girls made a deal; "you guys kiss for two seconds, and we'll make out for 30 seconds."

It didn't matter to me whether they did it or not, I've been there, seen that. And I didn't mind a meaningless kiss from between straight guys, because really, in the end, we did it not because we wanted to see them make out, but because they so obviously wanted to make out so badly, and needed some excuse.

But hey, guys kissing are a lot more precious than a mere 30 seconds. And if I wanted to see girls making out in real life without having to kiss a guy, I could hop over to Frangipani when it is their ladies night.

I went to dance, and when I came back, apparently all the guys had kissed each other.

Or maybe they were just getting back at us, as the girls wanted to drop by Frangipani before Zouk.

Finally, I made up for all the gay debauchery on Saturday. Bored of all the Klang Valley malls, I headed to Jusco Seremban 2 (there you have your answer for the sign) with LIMITED EDITION 01. The place smelled of food all over, and it reminded me of Ikano a lot; parallelogram-shaped wide shops and modern, brightly-lit design.

Unfortunately, I am not able to tell a story as imaginative as hers, so I'll just say we went to watch Pink Panther. It was well-executed slapstick. However, watching Mr. Bean on TV, I still think the British are the best at slapstick and comic timing. In Mr. Bean, for example, the kid uses a remote control to control a toy boat. The remote seems to be spoiled, so Mr. Bean hacks the remote control, and unwittingly makes it take control of a electric wheelchair. He then drives the boat across the pond, with the poor man in wheelchair rolling in the background. He hands it to the kid, and the kid turns it, unaware that the wheelchair is about to crash into him.

With Pink Panther's style, you'd see the wheelchair hit the boy into the pond, with a splash, and the man's expression as he flies into the water. Funny.

With Mr. Bean, they cut to the next scene. Funnier.

Interestingly, Inspector Jacques Clouseau is seen in one scene downloading a ringtone for System Of A Down - B.Y.O.B.! Rock on, old incompetent Frenchman.

More interesting was the taxi ride to KL Sentral; the taxi driver asked, "You pergi mana? Seremban?" Caught by surprise, I mumbled, "Bukit Bintang". Then he asked, "jumpa amoi?"

On Sunday however, I found the love of my life! I never had the real thing in my hands until late last year; one was from London, the other, Australia. We could have a few quickies under one minute. People would look at us on the LRT.



ARGH! After I got Hannna to get me one from Selfridges London, and Ed got me one from Australia, I finally found this, at RM24.95 at Toys'R'Us Express, The Mall, near Putra World Trade Centre. Bloody hell that's USD 6.56 (online, USD12)! Why was it cheaper? I found that they stuck a white label over the Milton Bradley and Hasbro Toys logos. No wonder it was cheaper!

It felt more consistent than the Australian cube, solid and did not lock. It didn't seem like friction, but it felt slower, and slower it was; 74 seconds was twice my record.

He did not order his favorite dish. But he was not Albert.

He went out of his way, beyond his normal principles, beyond his definition. He was not Albert.

He kept the stupid tactless things, and objective comparisons, to himself, causing more awkwardness. He was not Albert.

He could've done something cooler. But he was not Albert.

He was red-faced when even alcohol would not flush his face. He was doing what Albert would not do.

He could've come home either happy or feeling like a failure. He came home not feeling like Albert.

He blindly did and fell right into the trap. He'd be damned if he did or if he didn't, but he certainly did not take Albert's course of action.

He apologizes for that. For it was very challenging, and excruciating, for him not to be Albert.

However, Albert will tell you what he thinks of the movie Casanova:

Quaint, richly decorated Venice landscapes and awesome cinematography emphasize on the great romanticness of this movie. However, the movie stumbles upon its mixed genres. It has excellent, sharp pokes at the church, like "is a confession all you need?" at a court. It has clever puns and double entendres, but those are few and far in between. In the meantime they have a lot of senseless, unfunny slapstick in the background. Yes, they have interesting character-swapping twists that tend to confuse, but if you're looking for something romantic with clever flirty wit, I'd go with Down With Love.