Archive for March, 2004

March 22, 2004

the deceivers

I watched some Chinese drama on TV with Emily when my notebook broke down. Never fancied watching Chinese drama but then, that was the only thing left for me to do at that time.

Anyway, in the Chinese drama, in one particular scene, there was this girl (the heroine, obviously) who suddenly turned into a dropdead beautiful looking chick during a ballroom function — a deviation from her usual catastrophic appearance. The secret? A score of makeup, hairdo and an expensive dress. The moment I saw the scene, I gave out a smirk.

That was sort of like the moment of truth for me. That scene in the drama was true in every sense — a few artificial ‘modifications’ and touch ups, could change a great deal on one’s appearance. I have seen such occurrences in real life before. It’s all real.

A good example would be annual dinners. I am not sure about other company, but in mine, most of the girls would usually go all out during the dinner. They would do anything to look good on that night. Never mind the expenses. They will put inches of thick make up that could shame a Japanese geisha. They will wear expensive dresses that cost probably more than their basic salary. They would go to the extend to tailor-make their dresses just to be seen in something different. The standard rule of thumb… was to expose as much cleavage as possible. Long term investment – they always say. And that freaking dress would be worn for only ONCE. Cannot be seen wearing it twice or else they will be cursed with terminal stage herpes on their tushy. And if they own any jeweleries at all — this would also be the night for them to flaunt them all out. They will pick the biggest and most sparkling motherfucking of all jeweleries.

And what is beauty without an exquisite hairstyle? Right, they will spend a few hundred bucks for a customized hairstyle for the dinner… and they always come in various weird shapes that was copied from top fashion magazines. Some would look so weird that they resembled those zinc awnings – extending out of their head like that. And their hairdo’s are always laden with a few hundred gallons of hairsprays and unknown chemicals, that could trap insects (in some rare occasions, even small flying mammals – e.g. bats, flying foxes)

Then come to shoes. High heel is the standard. 4 inches, 5 inches and for some ballet dancers, they would even wear 6 – 7 inches — almost making them a whole length of head taller than any puzzled blokes. Guys have to look up (suffering neck problems) in order to talk to them – as if they’re walking on stilts. That explains why the guys always prefer to look at their boobs rather than looking up at their faces to talk with them. And yet, the guys are always mistaken as perverts that ogle at boobies… when they are actually trying not to hurt themselves

Alright, my point is — reiterated — the world is full of deception (if you’re not already aware). If you want to find yourself a girlfriend or a life partner, avoid ballroom functions or annual dinners at all cost. Those pretty ladies in the ballrooms are nothing more than a walking mammal full of expensive chemicals on a wig… and stilts.

Trust me. Hold back your adrenaline and testosterone. Prevention is better than cure (unless you’re gay).

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
March 21, 2004

an evening with grandpa

I was asked by my mom to bring grandpa for dinner last Friday. Not a problem for me as I was quite free that night so, I happily obliged.

We (Emily and I) decided to buy him to something nice. But before that, I had to get past the first obstacle when dealing with my senile grandfather – to convince the old man that I am not some crook trying to abduct him. You see, he’s already 90. He has some serious hearing problems and he couldn’t remember how many kids he has, let alone grandkids. So, you can imagine how it was for me.

Grandpa : *smile*

Me : “HI GRANDPA. IT’S ME… MICHAEL” [I had to speak very very loud because of his hearing problem]

Grandpa : “WHAT?” [He is loud because he could hardly hear himself talking]

Me : “IT’S ME… MICHAEL. I WILL BE IN CHARGE OF YOUR DINNER TONIGHT. I BOUGHT YOU SOMETHING NICE.” *wink*

Grandpa : “OH… YOU BROUGHT ME DINNER. HOW NICE OF YOU, whoever you are.”

Me : “YEAH. MOM HAD A FALL AND HURT HERSELF PRETTY BAD ON THE CHIN. SHE COULDN’T COME TONIGHT SO SHE SENT ME” *smile*

Grandpa : “YOUR MOM… DO I KNOW YOUR MOM?”

Me : “MY MOM IS YOUR DAUGHTER, GRANDPA. HER NAME’S KAREN.”

Grandpa : “OH MY, IS SHE OK? WHERE IS SHE NOW?”

Me : “SHE’S FINE. JUST A SMALL BRUISE AND NOW RECUPERATING AT MY SISTER’S HOME”

Grandpa : “SHE’S AT HOME?”

Me : “NO, MY SISTER’S HOME”

Grandpa :”WHERE IS THAT PLACE?”

Me : “JUST A FEW STREETS AWAY, RIGHT OVER THERE, REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : “OH YEAH I REMEMBER. SO, YOUR MOM’S FINE?”

Me : “YES, SHE IS. SHE JUST WANTED TO STAY OVER FOR A FEW DAYS AND THEN SHE’LL BE BACK TO MY PLACE.”

Grandpa : “AND WHERE DO YOU LIVE?”

Me : “I LIVE IN [location], DO YOU REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : *puzzled look*

Me : “THE PLACE NEAR THE UNIVERSITY, REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : “OHH, THAT NEW APARTMENT. I REMEMBER NOW. SO, YOU MUST BE KAREN’S SON?”

Me : “THAT’S WHAT I TOLD YOU, GRANDPA. YES I AM.” *wink*

Grandpa : *smacks head* “AHAKS! FORGIVE ME, AS I AM A VERY OLD MAN NOW… MY MEMORY IS FAILING. I MAY EVEN HAVE A BRAIN DAMAGE, HAHAHHH”

Me : “YOU’RE JUST FINE, GRANDPA. AT LEAST YOU REMEMBER ME NOW, RIGHT?”

Grandpa : “HAHAH, AND WOW, YOU’VE GROWN UP TO SUCH A GOOD LOOKING MAN NOW. THAT’S WHY I CAN’T RECOGNIZE YOU…” [note: I did not make this up]

Me : “NAAAAW GRANDPA, I ALWAYS LOOKED GOOD, HAHAH”

Grandpa : “HAHAH RIGHT RIGHT. SO WHERE’S YOUR MOM?”

Me : *feet in the air*

The process would repeat for countless of cycles. And I had to answer him the same thing over and over again.

But then, ironically, my grandfather isn’t as forgetful as he always claimed to be. I think he’s just feigning it. You know why? It’s because after our dinner, he started to tell us stories about his heydays… about how he endured his hardship when he was at my age. Bla bla bla. And those events took place like, over 60 years ago… If you ask me, I would say that old dude has a better memory than I do.

Anyway, that Friday night’s experience was a pleasant one. And I am glad that my grandfather enjoyed the evening telling us stories.

michaelooi  | personal  | Comments Off
March 18, 2004

‘laptop’

My company organized a lucky draw for some charity event and a mail has been sent out to inform everyone about it. There was only one particular part that caught my attention :

1st prize : Perodua Kelisa
2nd prize : Honda Motorcycle
3rd prize : Lap Top computer

My eyes were fixed at the 3rd prize. Lap top. Since when do people still refer portable computers as ‘lap tops’? As far as I can remember, people used to refer portable computers as ‘lap tops’ because some bunch of idiots felt that it is so cool to put a portable computer on their lap (for some strange reason). So, if those bunch of people happen to like the idea of putting a portable computer on top of their dog’s head, it’ll be pretty much known as a ‘canine head top’ instead.

I can’t help but wonder, what if this becomes the universal way of naming things. It would be disastrous, man. Rob would be born to the name of ‘decomposed corpse’, or perhaps ‘leprechaun pervert’. Or he could be named after the place he was conceived — ‘the backseat of a garbage truck’. Cars would be known as ‘road tops’. And Barney would be known as the ‘purple lardass lizard who was born with merged teeth’. Goddamn, hahah.

Anyway, the word ‘lap top’ should be made obsolete now, lest that this may mislead the public that it is ok to put your portable computer on your lap. Seriously, it is not (not ok). Modern portable computers are so powerful nowadays, that it would constitute a hazard to put the thing in contact with your skin for a prolonged period. At 40 over degrees on the hottest point, you’d get skin irritation out of the computer more than anything else. (Seriously, the only thing that takes the rightful title ‘lap top’ should only be those strippers from men’s club).

So, why do we still call our portable computers ‘lap top’? Wouldn’t it be better to simply call it a portable computer? Or a notebook? Why a low tech name for a high tech machine? What a strange world.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
March 17, 2004

porn on tv

I was flipping through the various channels on TV the other day, when I caught something ‘interesting’ on StarWorld channel. It was Baywatch Hawaii. You see… I never really fancied watching Baywatch. Never my cup of tea.

But I stopped that day because something pique my attention in that Baywatch show – a good looking babe with fake boobs with her rock hard nipples embossed on her non-padded super thin swimming suit. And that hot hootchiemama was suppose to be a lifeguard.

Now, isn’t that just ridiculous? Think about it. All the female lifeguards in Baywatch are good looking and gorgeous. If that were to be real in an actual world, then there will be chaos on all public beaches. Why? Because these bimbos are going to attract pervs from all over, and these pervs are most definitely going to feign an emergency in the water. Get my drift? Like, I’m going to yell ‘help’, flail my arms a little and voila… I’m suddenly surrounded by boobs. The score could be many folds better than picking up a chick in a bar. And if that were to really continue, it will not be long before all the bimbos had to be fired because of the drastic change in the sea PH level (perverts wanking off in the water, killing the whales and shit)

And also, if it’s not already obvious to you, all the female-lifeguards in Baywatch also have big boobs (fake boobs are always big). Lifeguards need to be fast. Their big boobs will cause a high coefficient drag and are therefore, less aerodynamic. This would in turn, hinder their speed and precious seconds will be wasted in saving an actual victim in trouble.

A fast lifeguard should be one who can swim fast and aerodynamic i.e. thin and flat chested. Not a chick with fake boobs. Chicks with fake boobs aren’t suitable to be lifeguards. Having said that, real lifeguards should be comprised of only ugly people. Someone that probably looks like Joe Pesci crossed with a wild hog. Yeah. Knowing that the lifeguard could petrify even the meanest shark in the ocean, no one would dare to get themselves in trouble (in the sea)… or at least be that extra careful not to pique the attention of the lifeguard (for they would rather die than being resuscitate by that disastrous looking lifeguard).

Conclusion? Baywatch is a scam. People tune into Baywatch to watch boobies and cameltoes. It’s not really about saving lives and that sort of shit. It’s just a cleverly disguised porn show on TV, trying to promote the new pornstar wannabes.

Sick of it, I switched to another channel to watch some really wild animal killing its prey. At least I know they’re for real.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | Comments Off
March 15, 2004

speed demons

Saturday night (or rather Sunday morning), when I was on my way home from watching a late night movie, I saw from a distance away this unexpected traffic congestion near a junction. That struck me as fucking weird. Like, traffic? At 3am?

As I drove my car closer to the junction, I started to realize that it wasn’t really a traffic congestion that I saw. It was a group of people on motorcycles. For one moment, I thought it was an election campaign went too far, but apparently I was wrong. Those were actually illegal motorcycle racers having their congregation right in the middle of the expressway.

From my rough estimation, there were probably a few hundreds of them there – which made the whole assembly look like a swarm of locusts having a sex party. Except that locusts do not emit as much exhaust fumes as they did.

It was a very ugly sight. Malay kids with weird hairstyles (yeah, some didn’t wear their helmets) revving their loud motorcycles to show off their piece of modified 2 wheelers. I can’t help but wonder, what are these boneheads trying to achieve by participating in such despicable acts? Frankly speaking, I don’t fucking know. If they are looking for thrills, they could have rode their motorcycles off a cliff or something… or join some x-games event. Racing on the expressway endangering / disturbing the life of others – that’s just plain abominable.

It is not that I care if they got themselves killed or whatever… but I’m more concerned that these lowlives would damage our cars in the process of getting killed – man, that is going to be a drag. Imagine the troubles of claiming insurance and getting our cars repaired… not to mention the depreciation our car’s value after killing someone (albeit a lowlife) in the accident. And all those buggers do, is to lie down quietly for their family members bury them a few feet under… and become fertilizers for the plants – while we got ourselves entangled with the law and shit.

And then what will happen if there were to be a platoon of extra-terrestrial beings from another planet come for a visit, and their first encounter with us humans happens to be these bunch of vagrants? I bet those ET’s aren’t going to be impressed. If they have the capacity to attack, they’d fucking do it without qualms. Same for me. If I happen to drive a big truck or something, and had the chance to mow these bunch of retards, I’d do it without qualms. More to that, I’m going to get down from my truck and spit at their corpses.

The government ought to do something about this. Like, to enforce the speed limit of motorcycles to just 50kph. If possible, ban all motorcycles that could speed beyond that limit. That way, they won’t be able to ride fast. And whoever modifies their motorcycle and violates the law – mandatory whipping or death penalty, or both (whip first, then hang)

Don’t like it? Well, don’t fucking speed on a motorcycle. Go ride a bicycle or something.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | Comments Off