Experiencing Tsunami as a Form of Entertainment?

What would you do if the police told you a Tsumani is about to hit in your area? Would you stay in house? Move to a safer area? Hope that the warning is wrong?

Or would you:
Penangite A (talking to a friend) : Hey, there's a Tsunami tonight, wanna go and watch?

Penangite B : Okay, I'll bring some potato chips.

This is actually happening in Penang:

Heed tsunami warnings

PENANG: The police are disappointed with Penangites who ignored orders to stay clear of the promenades in Gurney Drive and Esplanade following a tsunami warning issued on Wednesday night.

“Heed our warning. It is for your own good. If a tsunami had really hit that night, those who lingered on could have been seriously injured or even lost their lives,” said George Town OCPD Asst Comm Azam Abd Hamid.

Unconcerned of danger: Many curious onlookers gathering
along the coastal area of Gurney Drive in Penang on Wednesday
night to look out for tsunamis.

Gurney Drive was among the areas here that were badly hit by the Dec 26, 2004, tsunami.

Waves reaching up to 3m pounded the promenade and left the place covered in silt, mud and debris then.

The other places badly hit were the southern coastal areas of Balik Pulau and the northern beaches from Teluk Bahang to Tanjung Tokong. A total of 52 people died in Penang as a result of the tsunami.

Universiti Sains Malaysia (USM) lecturer Prof Koh Hock Lye said many Penangities were either not concerned or ill-informed of the danger of tsunamis.

He explained that tsunamis occurred in a series of waves and was not a single large wave as commonly perceived.

“The people must vacate when there is a tsunami warning. It is very dangerous because the waves often take hours to dissipate. That is why the tsunami warning in Indonesia was issued, withdrawn and reissued,” he added.

It's so Jaw Dropping I've Got to Share

you've got male

New Rule: When 'Dating' Online, Add 20 Years, 100 Lbs. To Your Partner's Profile

In a bizarre, completely epic, seemingly made-for-the-big screen true story featured in Wired, a 45-year-old former Marine living in upstate New York named Thomas Montgomery visited gaming site Pogo with a fabricated identity: that of Tommy, an 18-year-old Marine about to be sent to Iraq. In a chat room, he met Jessi, an 17-year-old West Virginian girl, with whom he fell in love over IM. There were times when Tommy couldn't be online because he was "on duty" -- but that was really because Montgomery had a wife, two daughters and a job in a factory. Jessi, however, had more free time on her hands, so she would make video montages of herself for Tommy, set to Aerosmith power ballads. About eight months after they'd met online, Tommy proposed. Jessi accepted.

He sent her flowers; she sent him G-strings and dog-tags engraved "Tom & Jessi Always & Forever." Tommy told Jessi to send his mail to Thomas Montgomery, his "father."

Montgomery was consumed by his marathon online chats with Jessi. While at work, he didn't stop talking about her, telling colleagues that he planned to leave his wife and move to West Virginia. In the evening, he would chase his daughters off the computer, planting himself in front of the screen late into the night.

At some point, Montgomery's wife, Cindy, discovered some of the items Jessi had sent. "I cannot believe is that you are living out some bizarre fantasy -- as father and son," she wrote in a note to her husband. Cindy also wrote a letter to Jessi, enclosing a family photo and explaining that there was no "Tommy," only a 45-year-old man, his fantasies, his wife and two daughters (ages 14 and 16).

Jessi didn't know what to think, so she contacted a coworker Tommy had mentioned also frequented Pogo: Brian Barret. She wanted to know if Tommy was real or fake. Brian, 22, told Jessi the truth: Tommy didn't exist. But Brian and Jessi started messaging regularly. And that's when things took a turn for the worse. Brian boasted about IMing Jessi at work, and, not surprisingly, Montgomery started "acting erratic." And one day, as he was leaving work, someone shot Brian three times, killing him. Montgomery was charged with the murder, and while detectives were investigating, they also found Jessi's phone number on Brian's phone, so they contacted her.

"Jessi" turned out to be a 45-year-old mother of two who had used her daughter's screen name and pictures in all of the contact with Tommy and Brian.

There's several things to be learned from this story, among them that one should never, ever communicate with anyone in West Virgina, that no one left in the world, save Ashton Kutcher and The Girls Next Door, wants to have sex with people over 45, and that To Catch A Predator's Chris Hanson will probably have a job for all of eternity.

An IM Infatuation Turned to Romance. Then the Truth Came Out. [Wired]

I Can't Wait to Try

I've never liked steak. It just very unappertising for me.

First off, it's too much meat. Secondly, very chewy. And... no taste.
Or it is just because I've never tasted a great steak before?

I StumbeUpon-ed this site: Jaden's Steamy Kitchen and she actually managed to made me drool and wanted to prepare a steak feast.

You should really try it out. I've added the link on the right as well.

Labeling your shoes

It was a long weekend for Merdeka (Malaysia's National Day) celebration. Have you ever wondered what a suppressed artist, trained in one of the world's most crazy art schools, like Jamie, does in a non-crazy, non-exciting, all tudung and all commercial like money sucking satanic capitalist Kuala Lumpur over a 3 days' holiday? (Did I mention alone?)


Honestly, I've been doomed for quite a long while. Trying to act like a normal person and all that. But beneath this all cheerful and innocent looking face... the artist inside me is running amok. Why is everyone so... normal? Where are all the people who are like me?

And I'm not talking about ordinary stupid low-self esteem artists you know. I'm talking about highest of class affirmative and dynamic-forward-thinking-bordering-insanity-yet-not-a-little-trace-of-it kind of artists. You know, those who you fear and yet talent you cannot help but to marveled at. Think of terms like bizarre, genius, ahead of time, out of the box...etc

I think I'm too numb to even think what I should do next to revive the other side of me aka the truly normal me. I give myself 2 months. If the sky is not falling snow or money and if a drop dead gorgeous handsome, rich, intelligent, romantic and sexy Italian man (oh, must know how to cook) is not showing up at my door 8 more Sundays to come, I will choose either

1. a career as Samaritan : free consultation to meaningful and healthy lifestyle. What am I good at, you ask? Behold my friend, I'll show you the whole new hidden power and treasure of the unseen world nature has to offer. Role options: a nun or a weird and outstanding and super-geng (Cantonese) New Age medical Master. Woo hoo!
   
2. fulltime artist : pour my heart and soul in expressing intangible thoughts through visual and audio. To Wow the world. I know I can do it. (It's this damn swamp city that's oppressing me now...) Location choice: London or Australia. Total indulgence for myself, and total enlightenment for people who come to see my shows. :-)
   

Either one will not be too difficult in achieving monetary returns. I suppose. But before I could even think of doing such dramatic actions, here is a proof of my degree of insanity thusfar:

I labeled my shoes.

Only people who've been affected with madness would do that.

I've not drawn like a real person for sooooo loooooong. Way too many o's! I did the most insane thing by drawing my own footwear. And... if you like it, and as crazy as I am, here's a bit of Jamie/Yeng for your desktop:



Yeah, what a huge favour I've done to myself! Total satisfactory! :-)

BTW, like my shoes?