Archive for October, 2003

October 30, 2003


I did not go to work today. Had some business with EPF (Employees Provident Fund). I hate EPF. I mean, I don’t hate the money per se, but it’s the organization that handles our money that I’m talking about. But do I have a choice? Fuck no. Every time I go to the EPF office, I will cuss till my throat sores because they’re so fucking loathsome.

They are slow, stupid and seriously understaffed. Their systems are screwed up and their procedures are ridiculously tedious. Some of their staffs are rude and some stink like a belacan.

Yep, that’s right, belacan. If you do not know what’s a belacan, it’s a type of fermented shrimp cake. Very popular amongst the locals for cooking. One very distinguishing feature for belacans is that they have a very strong odor. You know, being a fermented food and all. It smelled something like an unwashed private part (that’s about as closest I can describe)

And that’s what I encountered today. It was my turn at the EPF office counter, and when I was there, I was suddenly hit by this stench of unwashed private part odor, just like a piece of fucking belacan. I have no fucking idea why would there be a belacan smell in the office. I was particularly uncomfortable with it and was looking around for the source. I had been suspecting the EPF lady at the counter – because she looked like someone who doesn’t wash her private part, but I was unable to ascertain.

Since I was stuck there, I just hoped that I would be finishing my business as soon as possible and get the fuck out of there – lest I get sick or something.

It was then, I encountered a double whammy. There was this Indian bloke, who was summoned to the counter next to where I was, launched a second wave of malodor attack. His was an armpit odor, like there was a giant cockroach sitting next to me. I was at the verge of keeling over. Unwashed private part plus the cockroach smell. It felt like I was at the foulest spot there could be on the planet… I was stuck in the middle of a belligerence of aromatherapy – a competition of stinking people.

Imagine this – if I were to have a dog’s nose… a few hundred times more sensitive than a human’s… I probably would have knocked out cold by the multi-odor attack.

I don’t understand what’s in these people’s mind. What the hell were they thinking (if they have been…). Don’t they realize that they have such a strong odor emanating from their body? Don’t they know about something that’s called a deodorant? God…

Till now, I still have no idea where did the belacan smell come from. It could be from the feet, or maybe the breath of that EPF lady. But the most likely part would be her hair, because it looked so fucking slicky like that. And I doubt that piece of shit smells good.

I have to hold my breath through the entire ordeal. Once I got everything done, I fled the place without pronto without looking back. And I’m glad to make it out alive… Fuck…

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October 29, 2003

picnic with pondan

I was only 16 at the time of the event.

I was having a game of soccer with the BODs, when out of the blues, someone suggested to go for a soak at a waterfall. Since everyone thought that it was a marvelous idea, we decided to go ahead with the plan, to do it at a remote waterfall place that we knew.

It was scheduled 24 hours from the time the suggestion was made, therefore, we had very little time to plan for anything. We wanted to have some barbecue there, so we appointed Ayamas to buy 60pcs of chicken wings and had him plead his grandmother to marinate them all for us. And then there were some impromptu stuff as well, all done within a couple hours.

The plan was set. Everyone gathered at Ayamas’ home the next morning. The total headcount was about 16 – all within the same age range, except Ayamas’ uncle, which I’ll refer him as Nick – he was in his early 30’s and he had the prerequisite of being crazy that made him seem alright to our group. (actually, he even surpassed the crazy limit which the society would consider as normal…). And when everything was alright, we set off to our destination in a convoy of 5 – 6 motorcycles and one car.

The waterfall was located at a somewhere near a tourist destination in Penang, but the exact site that we were heading was a little bit uphill from there. It requires a short hike up but, the good thing was, the water was cleaner there – since we were almost at the source.

Anyway, it only took us 5 minutes’ hike to reach the spot. The place was big and our group was the only one there. We then set up a nice fire and started to the barbecue right away. And then the soaking. It was simply out of this world. (the waterfall has since gone, the place was flooded to make way for a dam)

Halfway through the barbecue, Nick suddenly did something unimaginable. He stripped himself naked and jumped into the water. I mean, this is not something common in our country – skinny dipping in the public is considered a crime. But then, since there were only us guys there, it didn’t really matter anyway. It was awkward at first but, after some time, we all got used to his crazy antics. We all had a blast there swimming and running around like overgrown kids. The place was nice and clean – and we had it all by ourselves.

There were a few times while we’re swimming in the water, Nick threatened to pee from the top of the stream. “Who wants some Chinese tea?” he would jeer and laugh. And he would sometimes squat with his ass facing us from top of the fall – and started groaning as if he’s straining his shit out. Nick was the craziest dude I’ve ever met in my life.

Then suddenly, something unusual happened. We saw Nick going panic and dived into the water. He then frantically waddled through the pool up to the ground & quickly got himself dressed. As we’re about to ask him what was wrong, he pointed downstream from our location towards a group of people. We saw them but weren’t sure if they were males or females.

Well, it turned up to be neither both. They were a bunch of 3 ‘pondan’s (transvestites). Two of them were in their mid 50’s and the other in his 30’s who resembled Beavis in many ways (if you don’t know who is Beavis, shame on you. Go find the nearest toilet bowl, put your head into it and flush). When the queers saw us, they were like bubbling with joy. Pardon me but, I am an open minded person. A gay or homosexual dude won’t get me up from my seat (that’s because they usually look and behave like any regular guy) but a ‘pondan’, will make me squirm out of my skin.

Our activities were all put on hold, because we weren’t comfortable with the unexpected company. The 3 queers took over the place like they’re some kind of infectious parasites (although they were located a little further down the stream, about a good 30 meters away). Those queers were doing all sorts of weird stuff there, as we could see clearly from our location – they were washing each other’s ass, stroke each other’s wrinkled body, etc. It was a revolting sight.

Nick couldn’t stand them and he took a pee into the stream. Some of us followed suit and took a pee as well. As those ‘pondan’s were located downstream from us, they’d be bathing in the stuff that just came out from our bladder. But then, they were too busy with their gross activities to notice that we were blessing them with our ‘holy golden water’, and the thought of that made us all laughing out loud like we’re been gassed, which attracted the trio’s attention.

Nick, noticing that they’re looking at us, began to taunt the bunch of queers. “Hi girls… wanna fuck?”. That was an equivalent of a Jonestown mass suicide death mantra. The ‘pondan’s were duly aroused by Nick’s taunt. Then one of them shouted in retort “Come lah… guys… oh come please…”, and one of them flashed us his lardy ass and slapped his its cheek repeatedly. Almost got us black out from the over exposure of visual attack.

Then, one of the BODs (i’ve forgotten who) hurled a small pebble towards them. It didn’t struck any of the targets. Henry, who got extremely agitated, started to hurl profanities uncontrollably at the bunch of queers. But they were indifferent about it. They hurled back more disturbing taunts like “Oh come fuck me bebeh… I am waiting here for you…”

Nick, who was enjoying the whole experience, shouted back “Hey girls… why don’t you come up here and fuck us? We’ll all wait for you here…”. Well, thanks to Nick, the ‘pondan’s procrastinated no further and started to advance towards our direction. That was when we realize that we’re in DEEP pile of motherfuckingly serious shit. It took us only a millisecond to react – we grabbed our things ready to flee while the others started hurling more pebbles, stones and leftover chicken bones towards the three advancing transvestites – to buy us enough time to bail a safe passage from the place.

You can imagine the whole situation like Sam Raimi’s movie Evil Dead, you know… Bruce Campbell on rampage shooting at the advancing undead army to buy time for his friends to escape. Only that our villains were much more horrifying than the undeads. Luckily, unlike Bruce’s fate in the movie, we managed to bail out on time alright.

As we were running towards our vehicles, Henry continued to hurl profanities at the 3 ‘pondan’s. He was lucky that he didn’t trip on any tree roots just like in those horror movies – that was because we were all running so fast that it would be impossible for us to take notice of anyone falling. It would be difficult to imagine what would become of anyone who was left behind with these 3 dick-hungry swishy faggots. Once we got to our vehicles, we fled the place without looking back.

Now who would have thought that a fun filled day would suddenly turn into a tragic outing like this? Well, the lesson learned was, always plan your outing earlier. Never do it at the last minute. If we were to have more time to plan the picnic out, we would have brought a few mean dogs along. Shackle them up at a safe distance to ward off intruders – and our picnic would have been undisturbed.

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October 28, 2003

another let out session

Man… what’s up with those hooligans who likes to modify their cars? Spoilers, skirtings, big rims, fins, holes, whatever – they looked like something came out from a junkyard.

I really can’t understand, why would anyone want to spend so much money on those craps. They may modify their cars to look like a Ferrari, Supra or any turbo charged vehicle, but everyone still knows well that they are all the same inside. It won’t go any faster with those modifications. Well, even if they DO have a turbo-charged engine… we still know that the mechanical design was not originally meant for that extra power. It’ll be akin to a suicide attempt. So, what’s the point anyway? Trying to tell the public that they’re stupid? I’m sure there are many ways to do that.

If you want to impress someone on the road, try to drive a real sportscar. Driving a cheap car with heavy modifications won’t make you cool / great. It won’t impress the general lot. Only those of your kind – stupid punks. To the general public, you’d look like an asshole trying to tell everyone that you’re stupid, ignorant and that you spent most of your time doing redundant thing stuff. Wake up.

The stupid Kancil incident I saw today, was a very good example of stupid people doing things that are beyond the logic sense. You see, our roads are full of pot holes and bumps, now why would anyone think of lowering their car and install a low skirting on it?

And then, there are some that has more lights than a Christmas tree. Colorful LEDs, headlamps, taillights, etc. I have seen some with blue lights interior lighting, which looked like a bug zapper being turned on whenever a door was being opened. What the fuck indeed.

But then, people might counter me that this is a free world. Everyone reserves the right to do anything they want. They can modify their cars into a garbage truck and still, it isn’t my business to mind what they did. Bla bla bla. I just have one thing to say to the owners of these ridiculous junks – you and your car sucks, and I won’t hesitate to vandalize your car whenever I have the opportunity. Mark my words.

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a show by the carpark

While I was walking to my car at my workplace parking lot today (going home), I took notice of a young Malay lady in this ridiculously modified Kancil. The car had a big noisy muffler, probably big enough to fit a standard sized rat with its diameter. It also had some skirt works done, which was very low… just about a few inches off the ground. And then, there was this ridiculous spoiler – it was big… and it looked like a giant shoe rack at the rear of the car.

I was appalled by it. It was fucking hideous. But then, the lady seemed to think otherwise, because I could tell from her fucking smug expression that she’s enjoying the attention. She probably even stopped her car there to impress her friends, you know, in case they didn’t know that she has a crazy clown car like that. And just to ensure nobody missed the opportunity to notice her, she deliberately left her car engine running, so everybody who walked past would be wondering who the hell brought a fucking lawnmower to work.

I was walking past the junk when the bitch decided to spin her car. Probably excited with my presence, I don’t know, but, it was right on the moment when I was there, she wheel spun her junk towards a half foot curb. I don’t fucking know what happened but, that was what I saw. The girl must have tried to drift a corner or something but, it ended going up on the curb and then came crashing down hard.

Now, as I have described, her car had a low clearance skirting. And when her front wheel went down the curb, the middle part of the car skirt sort of landed on it, and then off it went a very loud noise – KRAAAAAAKKKKKKKK !!!! That was the sound of the skirt cracking. It was a sight to behold.

And when her car cleared the rough ride, her car’s broken skirt can be seen dangling in and out like a buffalo’s dick, it was completely ripped off. She came down to inspect the damage, but surprisingly, she didn’t react much. Probably was controlling herself not to look too stupid but, it could have been that she had encountered such boner too many times to be concerned about it. Whatever. Serves her right anyway.

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October 27, 2003


On the way to work today, Emily enviously remarked “Ahh… how nice it is to be a student. So many holidays.” To which I concurred “Yeah… being a student is definitely awesome. Free from so many obligations.”

The conversation reminded me of my carefree days, of being a juvenile, a walking hormone. I remember the time when I first fell in love with the daughter of a dinosaur, how I snuck to the back of the class playing soccer with a blackboard duster, and many more crazy things that I don’t get to do now.

One of the most remarkable ones – was an event when I was 17. I was Form 5 at that time, and SPM (a Malaysian public exam) was our greatest challenge. About 4 weeks before the examination, I took some initiative to go for a night study at the school – which was convenience provided by the school management for those who had problems doing it at home (nagging mom, noisy residential, etc).

I hadn’t been doing any real revision for the whole year, so, I figured I needed the super-fucking last minute download from my revision books (also as a way to mitigate the guilt of frolicking too much). Away from home meant lower risk of spontaneous TV breaks and also a quiet environment for proper revisions. Somewhat of a plan, hell yeah.

So I was at it. I was usually accompanied by a few friends. Can’t remember most of them, except a couple blokes who go by the name Dennis & Alex. We were like, really working on it. From 8pm till 11pm EVERY NIGHT (that was some unbelievable shit for my standard!). It was some serious business and it was for real… until one night, when we were paid a visit by an unexpected company. A white cat (a male cat, because I could see that it has 2 furry balls hanging its hind). We knew this white cat, he was our resident school pet. We all knew him but then he didn’t really have a name. So, I’m gonna call him Skippy here for convenience’ sake.

That night, Skippy came and purred at us in the class, as if he was asking us to play with him. It went on for quite a while, until he got really pissed because none of us hardworking tards were paying any attention to him. Desperate, he jumped up on some of the desks and started skipping around – trying to distract our attention. At one point, he even tried to rip our books off.

Seeing that the cat was so cute and fucking desperate, we finally decided to take a break and one of us gave him a little pat on his head. We were like – hey, the cat wasn’t afraid of us. It was then, Dennis did something funny – he pulled the cat’s tail, and made the cat do some funny poses, gave it a headlock etc. The cat would stay static and oblivious about everything that Dennis did. It was somewhat strange (a normal cat would have fled from this bunch of Neanderthals who had never played with a cat before).

Then Alex (or was it Dennis?, can’t remember) tried something even crazier. He took out a marker pen and drew Skippy a pair of eyebrows. Some hard laughings ensued, which startled the cat a bit. But he stayed on with us nevertheless. Then, things started to go out of control, with each of us taking turn to sign our names on the cat’s tummy and I drew a ‘peace’ sign on his forehead with that marker… but the cat’s fur absorbed the tip dry halfway. So, I changed to a ballpoint pen to complete the peace sign – I had to scrape the ballpoint pen tip slowly on the cat’s fur. And it’s kin of hard because the it was full of fur, and you have to imagine that I had to do it like I’m giving the cat a tattoo.

By the time I completed the peace sign, I was unable to continue any further – because I was overwhelmed with tears and phlegm from laughing too hard. My stomach cramped and had to curl up. The guys continued to flare their artistic prowess and gave the cat some ink. The revision on that night turned into an impromptu art lesson, on a live four legged walking canvas (coincidentally, it was white too).

In the end, Skippy would look like a 70’s hippy-style cat. Complete with peace sign, tattoo eyebrows, graffiti, you name it. A colorful and walking masterpiece. If John Lennon ever wanted a mascot for his career, Skippy would be a promising candidate.

And we ended the night early without any more revision, as we couldn’t continue after so much laughing.

Some of my friends commented that it was a case of cruelty to animals. I have no comment on that – as the cat seemed to have enjoyed every moment of the attention. That darn cat probably had never felt so important in its life. And besides, the ink and signs worn off after about a week or so, and Skippy turned back into a spanking white cat again.

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