November 24, 2016

yellow flood

Remember this post I wrote about? The 2 hours’ worth of traffic standstill in the same 7 – 8km with my wife and daughter in the car? Actually, there’s one other thing that happened which I didn’t mention… and it is one of those things that will make me remember this day for the rest of my life.

You see, before reaching the big fucking jam, I already had the urge to pee. (you can see where this is going) It wasn’t a strong one, but just a small urge that makes you think you can hold for another 30 mins or so. That was until I hit the fucking traffic, right before the tunnel. When we hadn’t moved for close to 20 minutes in the car, I immediately knew I was in deep shit. I started to calculate the time for me to be able to go to the nearest restroom, and the calculation didn’t look very good for me. But I held a glimmer a hope that the jam’s going to be a short one.

At approximately the 45th minute’s mark in the stagnant traffic, I started to develop this pain which can be best described as those ‘menstrual pain’ that you bitches encounter. I was holding my pee so bad, that my butt cheeks were clamped shut hard enough to develop butt fatigue, on top of the throbbing bladder muscle that felt like a cramp’s coming. I had to sit side ways to let the gravity take over the aching butt muscles and cramp. My concentration started to wane. I was beginning to look for a dark spot anywhere by the long lines of stationary cars by the highway that I could somehow hide-pee, but because it was night time and there were so many car headlights lighting up along the road, I eighty-sixed the wild idea. I even thought of sticking my dick out by the window to pee, but my daughter’s at the backseat and my dick’s not long enough to do that (dick has to be at least a foot long to be able to feasibly do that)

At approximately 1hr 15th minute’s mark in the jam, I started to cuss incessantly. Nothing made sense anymore. The menstrual pain was so bad, that I think my brain simply had shut off the pain signal and it was all numb. I was hitting at the steering erratically and was at the verge of exploding. I swear, that was the color went offline in my eyes, I started to see things in black and white. I couldn’t make any sense out of anything I heard (my wife were talking to me at some point). Then, I saw the bottle – the Tupperware ECO bottle (500ml version) that I had right beside me, and I looked at my wife, and I told her – “I have to fucking pee in this bottle or I’m gonna die”. I then opened the car door, emptied out the water from the bottle onto the tarmac, slid the seat back to its furthest extend, stretched out both my legs, stuck my dick into the bottle and pee’d. I had to request for my daughter’s cooperation to not look to the front, erase this horrifying incident from her memory, and not talk about this to anyone or anything.

It was the craziest feeling of rush I’d ever encountered. Fucking pee jetted out mad like a stream of pressurized water in a carwash, so damn strong that I could see foam forming like it’s some kind of German beer. Then came another predicament – the bottle was fast getting full and I couldn’t stop! (I was also worried at the same time that my dick would get stuck in the bottle like one of those perverts who had to go to the hospital to get it out) The highly pressured stream of urine prevented the flood gate from closing, I had to literally assist with a pinch, and a re-clench maneuver (the guys should know what I’m talking about) and while doing that, I had to empty the bottle out onto the tarmac as fucking fast as I could before the levee breaks (cue in Led Zeppelin guitar riff…)! And I repeated for 2 more goddamn times! (that’s about 1 liter plus of pee). When it was finally over, I had my pants half wet (it’s inevitable) and a fucking ruined Tupperware ECO bottle. The relief, however, was indescribable. It was like, being able to live again after being dead for years.

Fast forward 30 mins later, I ended up visiting the restroom again at a drive thru McDonald’s (that was after learning that my father in law had been discharged from the hospital, and there’s no point for us to be there anymore) to have another round of draining, and those were the pee that got backed up in my kidneys (and perhaps even before the kidneys) due to the fatal exception error thrown by the failing bladder. In all, I must have pee’d close to 2 liters of urine that could have possibly gone out the other way. It was fucking insane. Definitely one of the craziest experience I’ve ever encountered in my life…

*The Tupperware ECO bottle, was discarded into the trashcan right outside the fast food restaurant. I sure hope no one would pick it up to use as a drinking bottle…

michaelooi  | experiences  | Comments Off
November 7, 2016

ghosts

Just watched that movie The Conjuring 2. While the movie’s quite good, one thing that grinds my gear about ghosts and haunting… is the low self esteem of the antagonist (the ghosts/demons). They wanted to be evil, but for some strange reasons, they always have to do it surreptitiously. Typically, if you look at the fucking stupid ghosts in the movies, they’d do lame ass shit like flipping switches, moving objects, and hiding in shadows – just to mess with people. And only when people started to get freak out, they’d do an occasional appearance to send a stronger message or whatever the fuck they wanted. At most, they’d possess some kids/girls to turn up the tension a notch or two, but that’s about it.

If you ask me, I’d say that’s too much effort and time wasted just to scare some weak willed people and kids. In the realms of the corporate world, that’s called being passive and it’s a characteristic of weak people. And these weak people, they get culled for that. Lower distribution of the bell curve. In the grand scheme of evilness in the history of mankind, ghosts/demons are like, a bunch of kindergarten kids trying to compete in professional Mixed Martial Arts competition. Totally lame.

So, back to my question, why the low self esteem? If were to be a ghost/demon (you guys should thank your God that I’m not one), I’m gonna fucking good at my job of being evil. I’m not going to lurk in the closet just to scare some loser. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to make an appearance inside the Nobel Prize Award ceremony, and possess the smartest looking person there. And then I’m going to gouge my own eyes out, and gnaw off my own arm, and cannibalize that said arm in front of live TV. And then I’m going to evil laugh, say something crazy, and do the same crazy shit to the next person while leaving the one before bleed to death. When everyone has cleared the room in pandemonium, I’m going to levitate out in the public and do it to the next person I see… until the whole city is fucking dead/deserted. That ought to send a message or two. I will be the epitome of evil and everyone will be my bitch. I’m going to lay waste to humanity like it’s my thing. There will be no doubt of what I can do, what I am and whether I fucking exist. People will recalibrate their faith and scientists will rewrite the laws of physics because of me.

And there’s absolutely nothing anyone/anything can do about it – because I’m already dead, and I’m evil. And I’m gooooooood at my job.

(again, you fuckers are so lucky I’m not a demon/ghost)

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
November 1, 2016

self conscious

I don’t understand how some people can be so lack of self conscious that they can’t fucking tell if they have a really bad case of body odor. I have that self conscious all the time. I know it when I smell and I’d do something about it like taking a shower or simply mask that shit with a body spray or something. Not because I give a shit but, because I don’t like the attention (alright, I give a shit).

But some people, they’d go around stinking up the place like nobody business, case in point was this cocksucker I stumbled upon in the morning at Company T cafeteria a couple days back. A scraggy Indian guy with a bald spot big enough to make his head ticks form a flat-Earth society, who stinked like he had just came out of a box full of squashed roaches. I was unfortunate enough to be standing behind him at the cafeteria cashier (fuck my life) when I caught a whiff of this cibai human tear gas. I almost keeled over and spilled my breakfast on the floor! People like him shouldn’t be allowed into the civilization!

I can totally understand that if

A) that guy was to be a laborer who had worked the whole day under the hot sun.
B) it was close to the end of the day

But Company T is a place full of white collar workers! And it was 7am in the morning! When every-fucking-one is suppose to still smell fresh from the morning shower! Who the fuck stinks like that early at 7am in the fucking morning!? This fucking Indian manager guy! God fucking damn I don’t know how much longer I can stand not beating up someone and end up in jail

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October 16, 2016

skeevy old man

I was at this regular food court in the morning for breakfast with my wife, Emily. We were waiting for our orders, when we got approached by this old man. From what I reckoned, he was probably in his early 60s. Donning a pair of thick sunglasses (perched on his hair like it’s going to make him 20 years younger or something), an oversized blue batik shirt and a pair of black old people slacks. He asked us this while pointing to an empty plastic chair at our table:

“Is this seat taken? Is someone sitting here?”

There were only 2 of us, so the seat wasn’t ‘taken’. But I didn’t know if he simply wanted that chair (which is common) or if he was asking if he could share our table with him – which was uncommon, because

a) Penang is a place that respects personal space, table sharing with strangers is not a common practice.
b) There were still a few empty tables at the back of the food court, and another lone-patron old lady with a table all by herself (if table sharing was his thing, he could have picked a better target, just saying…) – which oddly, he went right past and didn’t ask for a seat.
c) I do not like sharing tables with strangers. Even more so with old people. I’d lose my appetite if the table is shared by a stranger. If have to be, I’d rather give up my table than sharing it with strangers.

Anyway, I politely asked & remarked,

“Are you asking if you can take the chair? You can have the chair if you want.”

Old man then said, rather rudely “I want to sit here at this table!”

Bummer. I had to lie in order not to be rude, “I’m sorry, I am expecting a company to join us later. Perhaps you can find another table?”

Old man then flipped out and yelled at me, “THEN JUST SAY THE SEAT IS TAKEN!! YOU DON’T HAVE TO CHASE ME AWAY!!”

I was flabbergasted of course. Like, what the fuck just happened?? That was when my courtesy went out of the window. I went loud:

“HEY! Did you just say I chased you away?? This isn’t your table to begin with, how is it possible you got chased away?? Didn’t I tell you politely to find another table??”

Old man was taken aback because he didn’t think I would ‘talk back’, because you know, he is old. Things usually go his way because he’s a fucking geriatric, but too bad… I’m not a nice person. He then retorted in a toned down voice before walking off to the next table (like a table-to-table parasite):

“Aiyah! It’s still early in the morning, I don’t want to quarrel with you…” His response was ironic because he was the one who started to yell at us early in the morning. I wanted to castigate him further to lower his self esteem but, what’s the point. He had lived 60 over years to be this skeeve of a person, anything I say will not do him any favor but will only make me look bad for yelling at an old fart (that’s what it’ll look like to everyone). Who knows, someone might whip out a phone and the next thing I know, I might become an internet sensation in the wrong light. So I let him be and he eventually got a seat at the said lone-patron old lady’s table.

That fucking skeevy old man. If my daughter’s here, she would be traumatized. That is why I never liked old people. I think old people are overrated. Just because they’re old, they think they can get away with anything (and most of people are enabling them, by letting them get away with what they want). It’s exactly like spoiling a child – except that old people have way much less innocence. Most of them are rude, ignorant, and like to make scenes for attention. Some really bad ones, would even fabricate stories to discredit their own children or others, just to gain some pity attention. They set bad examples to our children and they fucking disgust me.

But I don’t wave a blanket dislike to all the old people because I know not all of them are skeevy. It’s just that in my code of things, they are always by default a “RETURN FALSE”… and will only get a “RETURN TRUE” when they do/did-not-do something or behave in such way that convince me otherwise.

michaelooi  | experiences  | Comments Off
October 12, 2016

I saw this fugly car today

I saw this fugly car today…

fugly car

I wonder what the fuck are those 2 holes for, a mobile mammogram machine to check fake titties for impure silicone?

My guess it’s a fake jet thruster to fool kids to believe that this rectangular piece of shit is quicker than it looks.

What a goddamn ugly car. Why would anyone make an already ugly enough car into an uglier car. Beats me.

I’m going to fucking key this shit if I see it parked anywhere near me.

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