I ran into the bathroom cubicle expecting to take a piss when i heard some mumbling.. "menyek menyek menyek" i thought some giggling teenage schoolgirl had smuggled herself in since their vocabulary was the same.. what with their much emphasised about self-discovery and in the process realising that their names are actually abbreviated from something like Judiee-Pooziee(which would be some form of declaration that "im-so-cute-cos-i-bastardise-my-name-teehee").. back to the cubicle... i couldnt find the schoolgirl who i assumed would have most probably have been attracted by my ruggedly-handsome charms.. so i unzipped my pants, ignoring the menyek-menyeks and found the source of the mumblings.. my buah pley(scrotum) was trying to talk to me.. in a deep, sensual but not too sultry kind of voice(kind of like a cross between ruben studdard and zordon from power rangers), he just wanted to say hi and had come up with a theory to why ive been afflicted by the accursed condition.. It would most probably been divine intervention since i was getting too cool for my own good.. thereby upsetting the coolness equilibrium in the world.. I gasped at the inequity.. i pitied the rest of humankind for not being as cool as me.. The unequal distribution of cool suddenly became apparent.. The bestowed coolness on the ninja muscle... and the disparity between us and the commonfolk was great.. too great.. and it was still growing.. I thanked my buah pley and did manage to talk for a bit, went on a few dates and eventually he gave me that "we are more than friends but less than a couple".. to which i gave him an uppercut of "talk to the hand.. you go girl!" and topped it off with a roundhouse kick of "we girls dont need men!".. I emerged out of the cubicle an "independent woman, biatch!!!".. then i realised.. this story is totally cool.. to the point that people would draw faces on their scrotums with markers to pretend they could talk with it just so they can tell a similar story.. woah..