Archive for May, 2004

May 5, 2004

story of doofus II

Last weekend, we had a long holiday in our country, and I drove my super cool Waja to the north to have some fun. Initially, I was thinking of going to Thailand to go whoring but, because of the unrest in that area, I decided to go to Penang instead. I was there to help jam up Penang’s traffic, and drove really really fast on it’s narrow street … ha ha ha. To show those Penang drivers how to drive properly.

I went to that famous Gurney drive area too. Not sure why I went there. Maybe because everyone’s going there. I guess everyone was there to show off their cars, so I think this might be a super cool opportunity for me to be seen there. But then, the place was so jammed up that I could not speed like usual. So, I rolled down my windows and played my super cool CD player loudly. Again, my Waja managed to turn a few heads… ha ha ha… Penang people are so rustic.

Anyway, after revving my car around Gurney, I went to a pub in Butterworth. I’ve heard from some of my friends (that sells very tasty chicken rice) that the place is fun. Well, it wasn’t disappointing at all. They played loud music and I liked the place very much. Hell, they even played some of my favorite europop music from my favorite group – like Vengaboys, Aqua, the mixed Titanic song and various Chinese artistes (remixed). I had a lot beer with some of my newly met friends there… and boy, they do have chic hairstyles! Some are blond, some green… I think I’m going to dye my hair when I get back to Selangor. Ha ha ha …

The next day, after waking up from a hotel I rent in Chulia Street, I went to shop around the town. Was looking for a shirt with some dragon pattern on it, because I saw a lot of people wearing those inside the pub that I went to yesterday. But too bad, I couldn’t find it. One of the shopkeeper told me that the kind of clothes I’m looking for can be found probably in the area like Golok or Padang Besar wet market. Well … whatever…

to be continued…

michaelooi  | satirical shit  | Comments Off

story of doofus

Hi, my name is Doofus. I am a middle aged miscreant born in Selangor and grew up in a red light district. I live with my mom and dad… and is still single. My mom always tell everyone that I’m retarded but actually I’m not. I’m just extremely stupid. There’s a fine line between being retarded and just stupid.

I have a car. A very good car – a silver Potong Waja. My number plate is BGB 514X (ha ha ha… I am not telling you my number…). Many people say that Waja is a shitty car but I think it is a great car. It has only broken down 7 times this year, compared to other owners’ which probably broke down like 8 – 9 times. Maybe those people are just jealous of my great looking and reliable car.

And my car… is not just any normal car you see on the road. I’ve modified it in such a way that it has became more powerful and awesome. Amongst the things that I have modified – installed a pair of blue bulbs on my windshield sprinkler, a big exhaust pipe, and a big spoiler at the back of my car. Not to mention a skirting that almost touches the ground (have to be careful going through potholes and bumps though) and also a few pairs of lights beneath my car. Awesome isn’t it? My car looks like a sports car now… and it is becoming faster and faster! ha ha… ha ha ha

Whenever I’m free, I will drive very fast around town and rev my great looking car loudly to grab myself some attention. Each time I does that, the loud noise from my exhaust pipe will sure turn a lot of heads. Ha ha ha… that is so cool. But then, the downside is, I’ll have to pump a lot of petrol to be able to feel that cool. And for that, I guess I will have to work the extra few hours a day in my odd job occupation to be able to support my extravagant lifestyle. It’s well worth it if you ask me. Ha ha ha …

to be continued…

michaelooi  | satirical shit  | Comments Off
May 4, 2004

bounce bounce

My friends and I were drinking ourselves stupid on Saturday night in a club when we saw ‘it’. ‘It’ was big… ‘it’ was bad… ‘it’ was nasty. The very sight of ‘it’ alone could induce glaucoma and render most blokes blind before the age of 30. Thanks to our strong, healthy and athletic bodies, we survived without any complications by looking at the sordid creature.

So what was ‘It’? ‘It’ was a 300 pounds worth of flesh on a blimp chick who trudged by our table and knocked off hundreds of innocent teenagers that was in her way. She then settled down at the table in front of ours with her bunch of friends– which made us shudder at the very thought of her trying to fit into the space of the packed club.

Spotted with a semi BARE-BACK sleeveless black blouse, the amount of lards she exposed was shockingly unbelievable. And her face, was literally painted with make-up so thick… that it could be scraped out again to be used to degrease bowling balls. A total walking disaster. A mountain of cholesterol. A planet of grease. Whatever. It was a sight to behold.

It wasn’t long before the music she loves came blasting from the loudspeaker… and she fucking DANCED! The stomps of her corpulent & porky leg rippled the lards on her excessively fat body. The waves of fat can be seen reverberating across her bloated skin… almost like a loose piece of bouncing balloon filled with liquid grease. The sight was so horrifying that half the population of the pub actually puked… and flooded the dance floor with 1 foot thick of gelatinous goo and stomach linings… while the other half actually attempted to commit suicide. Alright, I made the last part up… but really, I was surprised that didn’t happen.

The fat piece of tumor continued to dance skankily throughout the night, as if she was there to work out in a gym. I can tell that blimp was out that night to burn a lot of fat – she knocked down countless amount of stools that night, and god knows how many glasses were broken. She is one creature that ultraman doesn’t cover in his anti-monster policy.

“Eh, that tuak pooi char bor happening eh?” I quipped to the girls in my group, hoping to get some interesting conversation out of the horrifying view. Surprisingly, the girls admired her strength and stamina to party… and hooted me to hell for calling her names. Almost at the verge of gouging my eyeballs out.

I realized by then, that ‘it’ had taken the mind of our girls… hypnotizing them with her dance of death to conspire against their boyfriends by becoming a physical outcast like her, and make the world a less wonderful place to live. That fucking tuak pooi char bor.

michaelooi  | rompings  | Comments Off

experience in an indian temple – blessing for my new car.

I never was or will be a religious guy… and never really believed in god or something like that. A libertine of sorts. But the opposite goes for my mom. Poor mom still believes in god… especially the God of Fortune whom she believes could bring her plenty of luck… and wealth.

That’s why, out of her dilapidated mind, she insisted me to take my new car (Lorraine) for a blessing on Saturday morning. A blessing from the gods to ensure that my car is rid of all evils and safe to be used as a transport. (truth is …. she wanted my number to go up first prize in 4D). Which I protested vehemently. But she threatened to scratch my Lorraine if I don’t comply her requirements.

So, I had no choice but to dig my ass up from bed to pay a visit to our local Indian temple to bless my new car. Yep, you heard it right, Indian temple. I do not know why but, it has been a common practice of sorts for Penangites to have their new cars blessed at an Indian temple. Perhaps the Chinese deities don’t have the expertise/technology to handle our cars…. *shrugs

I was still feeling nauseous from having too much drink the night before — and to wake up alone was a torture enough for me, what more to drive in that groggy state. Nevertheless, I managed to make it to the temple with Emily, which was located approximately the distance to the moon away…

Upon reaching there, I inquired a dude who was sitting behind a counter (yes, they have a counter at that temple) about the blessing service on my new car. Without even giving much explanation, the guy whipped out a book of receipt and asked for my car’s registration number — which I promptly gave him. He then filled in my name and my car registration number into that ‘receipt’… which looked more like a ‘ticket’ that costed 15 bucks … and asked me to pay up before submitting the ‘ticket’ to their priest.

The priest was hanging out with some of his buddies chewing betel leafs (sirih) when we approached him. He seemed to already knew what to do when I passed him the ‘ticket’ and proceeded to guide me to a shrine with a plethora of milk / coconut offerings. He asked for my car keys and buried it inside a coconut bowl full of flowers… and started to chant some mantra… which I think was about praising the gods so that He couldn’t help but oblige my request for a bless, to ensure my ABS brakes are working properly when needed… my rack & pinion power steering works till eternity… my airbags would deploy effectively in case of trouble… etc etc.

I was thinking of requesting the priest to ask God for an extra 50 or so horse power on Lorraine’s engine but hey… for 15 bucks… I think that’s a bit too much. Anyway, upon finishing the chant, the priest gave us some ash, followed by some yellowish powder (which I think was turmeric powder) and some red colored ones as well — all to be marked on our forehead. Then, the priest poured us some holy water to be consumed — which I reckoned was suppose to reduce the thirst that I’m having from the heavy drinking the night before. How understanding.

Then, the priest retired back to that corridor chewing more betel leafs… while his assistant (which have an uncanny resemblance of Samuel Jackson) passed us a tray of religious offering comprised of coconuts, more flower petals and some camphor. We were then asked to walk a full round encircling the shrine while carrying that tray. Then Samuel (the priest assistant) led us to our new car and began to chant even more mantras. This time, I think it was about the tires… make sure they don’t get punctured easily… make sure the balancing and alignment are well taken care of spiritually… make sure the fuel consumption of the car is good ….. make sure the drag coefficient of my car is greatly reduced… etc etc.

After completing the chant, Samuel then began sticking moisted turmeric powder on various parts of my car : top of the windscreen… both the number plates… rear windscreen… all the 4 wheels…. and even one on my steering. Emily asked me what were the moisted turmeric powder for (which looked like an orange colored plasticine/play-doh)… I told her that the Gods needed some ‘spiritual’ sensors around our car… so that He’ll be able to watch over us through somekind of magical CCTV from his place. That was just a joke to lighten up the moment… the fact was I don’t have the slightest clue what were they for, except some grave concerns that they could probably discolor the new layer of metallic paint.

Then, Samuel stuck a lime under each of our 4 tires, which he then asked me to drive slightly forward to squish them. Again, I do not know why do I need to squish those innocent limes, but I reckoned those limes could be some sort of symbolic representation of illegal motorcycle racers on the road, asshole pedestrians and whatnots… squish them so that they won’t get in our way…. something like that. Then, Samuel burn up a pinchful of camphor on top of a coconut… and for what seemed to be an endless of odd procedures, he asked me to break that coconut on the floor.

At this point, I remembered that my mom actually told me that the coconut should be completely smashed… else I will have bad luck for eternity (yeah right). So, I took no chances and proceed to fling that coconut with all my might on the floor — which it disintegrated into smaller pieces and spraying its water in random direction… soaking my bermuda shorts wet. This time, the coconut represented those vagabonds driving heavily modified automobiles with loud exhaust pipes… smash them into pieces so that they would be instantly repelled. Muahahah …

Samuel then began to strew an abundant amount of flower petals on our car, which looked superbly nice and colorful… until he opened our car door and scattered the remaining of the petals into our car dashboard. Emily and I were flabbergasted by what Samuel did. The petals, pollens, stigma and buds were littered all over my car interior. Was that suppose to be somekind of message from God that we need to vacuum our car more often?

The flower flinging ceremony marks the end of the blessing… and I was finally allowed to go home after that grim episode of attention demanding procedures. Driving never felt any safer after the blessings… and surprisingly, Lorraine responded better too… horsepower increase… I reckoned.

michaelooi  | experiences  | Comments Off