Archive for November, 2003

November 7, 2003

durian

I finally bought my first durian today. Most of the time, I am a backup durian ‘opener’ and a very active eater… but never had I bought a durian before.

Perhaps some you guys out there have something to say about my inexperience. But you can’t blame me for that… for I was brought up to believe that all the durian peddlers in this world are crooks and conmen… and they can never be trusted. They will always say that they have the best durian ever, but these people only say that to make you part with your money for an inferior durian… They are ruthless daylight ruffians…and we are gullible little shits that always go to them to get ourselves cheated. Fuck.

Anyway, I finally had my first experience of buying durians. 7 small durians for 8 bucks. Only 3 of them were good, the rest were as hard as fake erasers. Not too bad for a first timer. At least I was not conned much. Only a few bucks.

I can’t help but think that buying durians is very much like gambling. You dump your money to the durian peddler in hope to get back its worth with a good buy. The durian peddlers on the other hand, will solicit their fruits by all means necessary… and they will let you sample their best fruit as an assurance. But none of that can guarantee that you will get the best durian. Everything still lies at the tip of your own knife… and you can only tell after opening the fruit yourself, whether it’s a good buy or not.

Well, my colleague BigSnake claimed that one can actually tell if a durian is good by shaking its content and take a deep whiff of its smell. If you can feel something moving inside the durian when you shake it, that would mean… the flesh is hard. Probably not a good durian. But if it is all solid (nothing moves) when you shake the fruit, then it is likely that the durian is good – squishy and soft.

I’ve tried the suggested method that day, but it felt all the same to me. Maybe those nasty thorns distracted my observation. That’s why I resorted to the simplest and the most direct way – I asked the durian peddler – “Hey… are you sure your durians are good? Honest? Don’t fuck me ok? Or I will barf out all the bad durian from my mouth and return it to you for refund.”

“Trust me man… guarantee good one. I own the orchard myself… trust me…”

He only lived up to his words by 50%. But I was ok with that though… 8 bucks for 3 good durians is still acceptable… a good price to buy myself an experience. At least I can now proudly exclaim to everyone while holding my head up high – “I bought some durians before… and it was not too bad”

michaelooi  | experiences  | Comments Off

don’t mess with me

On Wednesday, a fellow colleague from Australia (let’s call him Sangeeth) emailed me to request for technical assistance for an issue which he couldn’t solve. But his mail didn’t quite sound like he’s requesting something. It was more like, a command. He wanted me to do it for him. There was a heavy presence of arrogance in it, and it sounded very authoritative. Not wanting to create a fuss out of it, I decided to help anyway, partly because I was professionally obliged to do that (ahem).

Because he was too busy inserting his arrogance in his email, he somehow forgot to include the details which I need to be able to help him. Amongst them, photos depicting the problem. I had to send him a reply to request for that. But being somewhat of a dolt, this Sangeeth sent me a mail asking me to provide him an FTP address (File Transfer Protocol) for him to share an oversized video file. Yes, a video file. I was asking for photos, but he wanted to give me a video file. Video file of something static. What the fuck. Following was our actual email communication :

“Michael, do you have an FTP site I can access ? The tech has taken an Mpeg video and sent it to me. It is 3.2MB so I cant email it”

I replied him: “Sangeeth, unfortunately no. Perhaps you can try to share it out from your PC and let us know your domain/computer name… we’ll try to link up from here”

Sangeeth, apparently dissatisfied with the fact that we do not have an FTP site, replied with a one-sentence harsh mail – “We should have an FTP site”.

That was when I snapped. I was fucking pissed. I was trying to help him with his problem, and this guy’s trying to make it like I’m the problem. I decided to send him a retort and this time, with less courtesy:

“Sangeeth, Like I have requested, just snap some pictures. They are of smaller size and should be good enough for us to check it out. I know we should have an FTP. In fact, we should have a lot of other things… like a big car, higher wage and a more comfortable cube as well. But the fact is, we still don’t have them. So why don’t you live with it and go to work?”

My reply aggravated the mental ape and he sent me a nasty flame mail reprimanding me. He criticized me for being too passive and being reluctant in helping him to solve his problems. And he ended his verbose mail with loads of bullshit technical jargons (which I knew more than himself, and was the reason why he was asking for my help)… and still, no photos or useful details.

That was the last straw for me. I decided to give the motherfucker the final blow. I sent him a blunt but succinct email asking him to CUT THE CRAP, PROVIDE THE DETAILS and copied his boss. And I p.s. the mail with a note asking him to improve his command of English to improve his comprehension…

I didn’t give much thought about the testosterone influenced angry reply, and expected it to draw much flak from my superior. But fortunately, Sangeeth’s boss dug my message and personally called my team director to apologize. His boss probably felt the same way I did about Sangeeth – that he is a nincompoop and should probably be hired to do something not so important. Like wiping tables or cleaning toilets. And I never heard from Sangeeth after that round of altercation.

My director later called me up and told me, that Sangeeth almost got fired because of what I wrote in my last email, and I was made to promise to be more diplomatic in my future communications… Bah! Like I care. Served that bastard right I’d say, for being such an ass.

michaelooi  | work shit  | Comments Off
November 6, 2003

sweet revenge

Today, Kermit organized a trip to a local R&D (Research & Development) lab to learn about some technology shit. There were 12 participants in total – Rob included.

Our host was a middle aged Malay chap, who seemed to be quite knowledgeable about the things he do. He’d walk us through the premise with detailed elaboration. It was an eye opener for most of us. Except Rob. Rob the motherfucker, saw it as an opportunity for him to get some attention…

As usual and expected, he would ask a lot of stupid questions (to the host). I don’t know why he always does that. Maybe he thought that by asking a lot of questions, people would think highly of him or something like that. But they always don’t. Instead, it is more like a reassurance (again and again) that he’s a real dimwit. Somebody that has the intelligence of a retard, but somehow, was able to control his movements like any normal person.

But today, I had enough of his antiques. Couldn’t stand that dipshit no more and decided to mock him. The opportunity came when we were all packed into the same elevator, and all of us heard Rob asking more obtuse questions:

“So Mr Fauzy … you’re from USM?” *USM=University of Science Malaysia

“Yes. I’m from USM” Fauzy the host, clearly wasn’t very comfortable with Rob.

“That’s great… I was from USM too. So, you studied mechanical there?”

“No. I majored in [some chemical shits which I do not remember]” Fauzy was trying to keep it short.

“Oh, interesting. I studied Minerals…” Rob responded. He said that with a smug on his face, as if that was the most important thing he ever achieved in his life, besides not being a biological retard.

That was when, I decided to add something to it. I uttered softly, but loud enough for everyone in the cramped elevator to hear, “Mineral water… he studied mineral water… by looking at them”. My remarks triggered simultaneous sniggers inside the elevator.

Rob attempted to redeem his image by correcting me – “No, no, not mineral water… it’s…” He could not even finish that last sentence… because everyone of us were too busy laughing at his ass. Some shed tears… and some were seen banging their heads against the wall. I made him looked like a kid who had shit in his pants that day and he kinda slowed down in firing his questions to the host.

All I can say is, ahhhh… what a sweet revenge. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect… as he will be leaving us next week. I would have gotten anymore chance after that. And he won’t be able to do anything about it now… but to live with this humiliation for as long as he can remember.

michaelooi  | happenings  | Comments Off

work stress

I was looking for my favorite red permanent marker in my lab this morning. I searched up and down, but couldn’t find it. I was swearing like hell all the way through, and after a good while later, I finally found it.

It was at the white board marker compartment. Fuck. Some idiot must be dumb enough to not realize that it was a PERMANENT marker, and must have used it on the white board. And it didn’t take a lot of effort to find out that I was right about that.

Indeed, that someone used the permanent marker on the white board – as I found out after attempting to erase the board. The strange thing was, there were a lot of white board markers in the white board compartment – not only the guy didn’t use them, but he actually walked a good 15 feet away from the board to my table to get the PERMANENT marker, and used it on the board.

I was determined to find out who it was. The clue lies in the scribblings in permanent marker. It was someone’s phone number with Taiwan country code. Coincidentally, there were a bunch of Taiwanese engineers using the lab the day before. So, it must be one of them Taiwanese dimwits…

That got me flustered enough to come up with a countermeasure, a reminder for the Taiwanese motherfuckers, in Chinese! (of course, this was done with some help from someone with the arcane knowledge of for the Chinese language)… and here they are… (hope the translation’s right)

michaelooi  | work shit  | Comments Off
November 5, 2003

girls ogling

I was walking along in the office today and saw my colleague Goo in his cube. Being a friendly lad he was, he stood up and gave me the standard “Wuzzap?” greet. So I went over to have a short chat with him.

We had our usual banter and blank talk, when all of a sudden, a hot girl walked past us and distracted us from the conversation. The girl had this really tight white colored and almost transparent skirt on, and we whatever she was wearing under it. It was an undersized cute white cotton underwear. It was so fucking ecstatic.

“That girl wore her underwear too low…” Goo commented.
“Yeah…. I think low enough to expose her pubic hair at the front”

And we both laughed like jackasses in the office, prompting some attention nearby.

We were just exaggerating about her underwear position. There was nothing wrong with her underwear. She was, in fact, quite perfect in her own way. Long hair… sweet face… she didn’t overdo her make-up… and a pair of nice heels. Very charming. I’d want to pork someone like her anytime. If only all girls are as tasteful as her…

Alright, that had me stiffened a little bit. Forgive me. It’s a guy thing. You know, we live to think of things like that all the time – how would a girl look like when she’s naked… and whether is it going to be fun kneading her tits, etc etc (forgive me, I’m just being honest)

That kinda had me thinking, what is so great about the female body? Don’t we all already knew how they looked like? Don’t they just differ in shapes, size, colors and packagings? So, why all the attention? Really, it shouldn’t be as enigmatic and exciting anymore… because we all know that there isn’t going to be any surprises when a girl strips for you… Almost predictably, a pair of tits and a patch of shaved/unshaved beaver for you to eat/pork. That’s about it. (unless the person has not seen a girl naked before – quote unquote nevermind the internet and porn mags)

So, what is the thing that makes us guys to become so obsessed with girls? This is really mind boggling man – I don’t fucking know. What I know, is it’s hardcoded inside us. Mankind has fought thousands of wars because of it, shitloads of empires crumbled, and countless of spirits are broken. And it is also why civilizations thrived, wonders were built and allies were forged. This is almost like, the reason why we men exist. We probably don’t know it but, it’s all inside us. This shit.

And this is only the furthest I can stray away from my sanity. I can best wonder, but I can’t change a thing. After this, I’d most probably go back to ogle more chicks and imagine them naked, totally oblivious to this grand scheme of sorts that is remotely controlling our actions and corrupting our souls… Oh here comes a bouncy one…

*oh btw, if any of you girls out there own shoes that has those 5 – 6 inches thick soles, throw them away. They’re revolting.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | Comments Off