Tag Archives: K


So how the fuck you’ve been man. I haven’t seen you for, like what, five years?

There’s a photo of us in London, with it’s old clock in the background. We were overdressed as usual in our shiny red boots. And those Kangols, man. We were rocking in it like it was meant to be rocked: kampung style.

So K, my friend, lemme just have this out in the open: I have a mancrush on you. Not of the gay sort, you follow? We had some great times and I just think that men are allowed to have mancrushes. Like some people have for Lance Armstrong (“Manwhore“, Blair Waldorf) or Khairy Jamaludin (“Mr. Smarty Pants”, the population of Malaysia under 35).



Filed under anecdotal