Archive for February, 2004

February 17, 2004

caveman logic

When I was on my way to the kitchen, my mom suddenly jumped out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. She complained that her mobile phone wouldn’t power up. Well, when she told me that, it was understandable for me that she actually meant – “can you fix my goddamn phone? or buy me a new one?”.

You see, my work usually involves technical stuffs like figuring out why notebook computers aren’t working the way they are supposed to work … so, a mobile phone shouldn’t be that much of a problem for me.

Me : **briefly looks at the phone** “Hmm… did you charge your battery?”

Mom : “Yes… I did.”

Me : “In that case, either your battery or your charging circuit has croaked.”

Mom : “Whatever… so, can you fix it? I once had this same problem before, but after reinserting the battery, it became fine.”

Me : “Hmmm… then this could be due to bad contacts… Let me see…”

And then, I proceeded to bent one of the pins to get a better contact to the battery – but still, it won’t power up. Then, I tried to tilt the battery in an angle to have it directly shorted to the pin – still, it wouldn’t power up. I had to conclude that the problem was due to the defective internal circuit…

Me : “Mom… I think you may need to send your phone for repair or something.”

Emily : **shouting from inside the bedroom** “Dear! Just smack it!”

Me : “Smack it? Why would I want to do that?”

Emily : **shouting from inside the bedroom** “Just do it dear”

And I proceeded to give the phone the biggest smack with my palm. And it worked fine after that.

Lesson learnt : A solution doesn’t always come in proper form.

michaelooi  | dialogs  | Comments Off
February 16, 2004

spoil the market

‘Spoil the market’ — a phrase to imply a purported sabotage of a mutually agreed goal/limit in order to gain advantage over others.

Eg. Rob sold his raw materials at a price 20% lower than other merchants. By doing so, he gained more market shares… because of his lower price. In order to counter Rob’s advantage, the other merchants had to lower their prices as well… and endure lower profit due to Rob’s inconsiderate act. Rob’s act is a perfect example of ‘spoil the market’.

I’ve came across this phrase many times lately :

Act 1:
Henry, Amber, Emily and myself were walking along a stretch of shops during Valentines Day …

Henry : “Hey … nice flowers. You girls want flowers?”

Amber : “I’m ok with anything.”

Emily : **turns to me and smile**

Me : **turns to Henry and rasped** “Market spoiler!”

Act 2:
Walking along with friends on Valentines Day, I bumped into my lab technician selling flowers by the roadside.

Me : “Hey man… how’s it going? Taking a part time job huh?”

Technician : “Yeah, good money tonight. Wanna buy flowers? This one is nice…” **points at a big bouquet of flowers**

Me : “Get out of here, don’t spoil the market.”

Act 3:
My mom bought a big teddy bear for Emily on Valentines Day.

Emily : “That bear is sure nice. I still can’t believe it’s from your mom instead of you”

Me : “She’s a market spoiler…”

Emily : “What did you say??”

Me : “Err … nice bear”

Act 4:
Niece has been watching cartoon for 7 hours straight.

Me : “Damn it… you’ve been watching cartoons for the whole day! Have you completed your homework??”

Niece : “I have already completed them all…”

Me : “Go do some revisions then! You think you’d become a genius just by completing your homework??”

Mom : “Aww… let her watch lah… not that she gets to watch cartoons everyday…”

Me : “Don’t spoil the market, mom. I want to watch that goddamn TV!”

Spoiling the market is the most despicable act.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
February 15, 2004

ticked off

Today, someone slipped a note under my mom’s car wiper that reads :

“Pls be considerate to other residents”

It was written in a very bad handwriting. My mom’s car was parked under the main porch of our apartment – but it did not block anyone’s right of way there.

That was why I got really ticked off reading the crudely written note. I was ticked off particularly at the word ‘considerate’ written in there. I knew it was written by that sadistic fat Indian bastard who always complain about everyone who parks under the porch. It’s inconsiderate, he said. Inconsiderate because he has a very ill father who could collapse anytime, and if it were to rain, he’d need to porch for the ambulance to stop.

But fuck, if it is a life threatening situation for his father, the ambulance could have stopped ANY-FUCKING-WHERE, right?? What is a drop or two of rain to exchange for your life?! And guess what? The fucker himself always park at that spot, right under that porch, where his fat Naza Ria would block 40% way, which is way worst that anyone else… Is that what he calls considerate??

And as if it wasn’t ironic enough, his car was parked at the carwash lot… the time I discovered the note under my mom’s wiper. Is that considerate?

His son … that goes around making weird noises around the apartment block… is that considerate ?

He always complain about others, but never take a look back at himself. Whenever his car is under that porch, it’s always the right thing to do, just because his father is sick (even though the old man’s not traveling with him). And if anyone else were to do that, he would stuck a note under that person’s wiper. How considerate.

I was about to wreck that fucker’s fat piece of junk vehicle up when I saw the note… but my conscience woke me up. I realized that I should not make it any worse for a motherfucker who has a brain the size 1/10th of my testicle. It will be like beating up a cripple with my abled limbs.

Let’s just see if he pisses me off again… and I’m going to make sure his fat car has more holes on it. Fucking neighbors.

michaelooi  | rantings  | Comments Off

my valentines day dinner

Every year, in order not to submit ourselves to excessive throat slitting and spending, Emily and I always avoid the idea of having a romantic dinner during Valentines Day. Dinners on Valentines Day are always more expensive than usual… and usually, the dinner would take too long to be served (due to the crowd). That’s not our idea of being romantic.

That’s why we always go to places where most kiddies roam – McDonalds, KFC or Pizza Hut. It has always been like that. For the past few years, Emily and I have been celebrating our Valentines Day at Pizza Hut. It may be too tacky for your taste, but hell, it’s cheap and my company’s not any less enjoyable than yours.

But then, this year, I figured out that we needed to go somewhere else… you know… for a change. So, we chose to go US Pizza this time. This year, we had some company – Henry and Amber.

After jamming ourselves for approximately 30 over minutes through the menacing traffic, we finally made it to US Pizza – the biggest joint in Penang. There was barely anyone there when we reached (because everyone’s flocking to expensive restaurants). Feeling hungry already, Henry and I took charge of the ordering, and we ordered 1 large and 1 regular pizza – which we reckoned should be just fine to feed the 4 of us.

Waited for about 15 minutes, a waiter came with 2 regular sized pizzas. Obviously it was a mistake. So, I flagged the guy over and told him that we actually ordered 1 large and 1 regular. He waiter nonchalantly took back one of the pizzas and left the other on our table, and went ahead to process our large pizza. While we were waiting, the 4 of us feasted on the regular pizza on our table and waited somemore.

About another 15 minutes later, the waiter delivered our large pizza. This time, the guy gave us the wrong flavor. Not wanting to wait for another 15 minutes, we decided to accept the pizza (with the incorrect flavor) anyway, and be done with it. While we were eating, I actually made a feedback to the particular waiter about the spate of mistakes he did that night, you know, in good faith just so that he gets the chance to improve himself or something like that.

And then I went on to work my pizza. About a good 10 minutes later, when we were almost finished with our dinner, one of the waiters (different waiter) served ANOTHER LARGE PIZZA to our table. I realized it was the flavor we ordered. That was when I started to get really irated.

“Hey dude! What is this all about? Didn’t we already get all the pizzas??” I asked the guy.

“Sir, the waiter there said you received the incorrect flavor for the pizza, so this is the correct one you ordered.”
“Noooo! I was giving that guy a feedback. We don’t you to change anymore. Besides, the one you’re serving here is not the correct flavor as well.”

The guy was basically dumbfucked and went to have a short discussion with his manager, and later came back to us:

“It’s alright sir. We’re giving you this pizza free as an apology.”

Since it was free, we took the pizza anyway… but not without giving those bunch of idiots a look of contempt. And so, we continued to whack another large our pizza… but unable to finish it, and had it wrapped up. We thought everything was over then, and were preparing to leave… when the first waiter (the one who initially served us) came to our table with ANOTHER REGULAR PIZZA!

“What the fuck!?!?!?” I exclaimed loudly, which attracted some attention from another couple who just came.
“Your pizza sir?”
“Our pizza!? They’re now all inside our stomach!! We’re about to leave!!”
“Err… I thought you said you got your pizza wrong? This is the replacement…”

It was unbelievable. I covered my face with my hands, stunned in disbelief. All the 4 of us were speechless. Even the 4th pizza, a.k.a the 3rd replacement, was wrong. We ordered large, remember? This was regular. The group of fucktards inside that restaurant that night … is the worst of the worst kind. No shit. I had enough of their pizzas and decided to bail the fuck off…

“Just keep the goddamn pizza dude. We don’t want any of your pizzas anymore.”
“But …. it’s yours”
“Give it to the couple there. Just anyone but us.”
“But… but…”

Before the waiter could finish stammering, along came the supposedly manager (who wore an apron and looked as if he had just graduated from a nursery home). He suggested that we take the pizza as ANOTHER COURTESY from them, and we can wrap them all up as a take away. It was unbelievable. I then questioned their integrity of being in a restaurant business… how are they going to survive with such poor management and communication skills? As if that’s not the end of it, they also under-billed our table. They somehow did not include the drinks we ordered that night — and for that, we did not complain.

There were 3 groups of customers who got their ordered mixed up… and all of them had to yell at the waiters in a supposedly romantic night. Apparently, some of them did not get their orders at all, probably that explains why were we getting so many pizzas delivered to our table… I reckoned that if I kept telling them that I got the wrong pizza, they’d keep delivering pizzas to me without charge…. and from there, I’ll be able to start my own pizza business – selling it at half price to the rest of the patrons that did not get their pizzas.

Today, I’ll be having my breakfast, lunch and possibly my dinner eating that 1.5 boxes of takeaway pizzas… courtesy of the most fucked up restaurant in Penang (possibly the whole world). What a Valentines Day I had…

michaelooi  | experiences  | Comments Off
February 14, 2004

big trouble on little plane

I recalled of an encounter I had on a plane a few years back.

I was in an Austin bound flight from Fortworth for a business travel. Sitting next to me was a skinny ass Vietnamese old lady. Very old, about 60 – 70 years old. I was sitting by the window and that old lady by the aisle.

Halfway through the journey, granny decided to have an idle chat with me. Not wanting to be a rude, I tried to be nice to her and gave her a few short replies (as I was too fucking tired from the long haul flight and besides, I’m not the kind of person who likes to chat with strangers). But granny was relentless with her topics, she would continue to talk about stuff that matters not to me. I tried to grab some magazines to discourage her from talking to me, but the effort was futile.

It wasn’t long before she started to get curious about me. That was when she started to ask all sorts of questions like – how old are you young man? where are you from? why are you here? wanna have sex? Ok, I made up the last one. But I was beginning to get annoyed. I just wanted to be left alone because I was fucking tired…

But no. She wouldn’t leave me alone. She would tell me stories about her family, and other shit that I absolutely have no interest about. I was beginning to suspect something wrong with this old lady. But my mind kept telling me that she was just probably too lonely on the fucking plane and she needed to talk.

She finally stopped after talking for what it must be like 15 minutes and then went all quiet. I thought I could finally get my much deserved rest, but I was so wrong. When I was trying to take a short nap, I suddenly heard a faint sound of someone breaking wind. I was like, what the fuck?? Did I hear that wrongly? Then it came again, this time, a little louder and when I looked what was that old lady doing – she had both her legs up on the chair (she’s really skinny) and was enjoying her fart!

Yes! She fucking farted! Right beside me!

The repugnant smell of her flatulence then started to waft towards my space… and it was terrible. I was gasping for air and was giving her a look of contempt. But instead of at least apologizing (though it would not really help to clear the air), she was giving me this dirty smile… you know… the kind of smile with a message “you ain’t smelling the worst yet, son”.

Miraculously, her act of terrorism was limited to only our space – because I can see the other passengers were not having the same trouble. The old lady seemed to be able to control the sphincter of her anus – where she would be able to limit the amount of gas and noise level to dispose just enough mayhem to fuck those who did not submit to her conversation. Yep, she did that to me because I tried to avoid her.

And she farted several times more throughout the journey, and I was stuck there because she was sitting by the aisle and mine was inside by the window. The only means of escape was to break the window, and get vacuum sucked out from the plane. Probably I might land on something that would cushion my fall from 30,000 over feet from the sky… but, the probability would definitely be lower than striking a lottery. So, bummer.

I had to endure the whole ordeal all the way to Austin… occasionally switching between pillows and my hands to mitigate the odor. You can just imagine my peril, fart gas in my seat, hangover and deprived of sleep… gosh. Luckily, it was just a 45 mins connecting flight… or I would have suffered brain damage for the lack of oxygen.

Lesson learnt – always take the aisle seat. If you happen to meet any weird people next to you, at least you can bail to safety…

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | Comments Off