Archive for 2004

December 8, 2004


I was walking into the gym the other day, and there I saw her again. Along with those beefcakes with hairless puny legs. She’s like an effervescent stalk of flower blooming out of a piece of turd. So stand out, so beautiful.

Who’s she? I don’t know. I’ve only seen her a few times in the gym. Usually hangs out near the ass trimming machine (or whatever they call it) and the doohickey for exercising her thighs. Fair skinned, with a pair of phoenix eyes, very sublime. Her tits are of mediocre size, but I wasn’t checking it out (really). If I were to be asked if there’s anything I like about that gym – it would be this girl.

At times, I would hook myself on some of the nearby machines to get closer to her, you know, to score some chance of whiffing her sweaty scent of a pure woman (no… I’m not referring to those fetid perspiration stench of the armpit). The scent of a sweaty woman always brings warmth to my stomach and kidneys, I don’t know why.

Anyway, I was admiring her from across the room, as usual. You know, discreetly watching her working out her bottoms and all that. She was wearing a pink T-shirt and her favorite tights. (I’ve noticed this for a while)… and once a while, I would kinda drift further imagining myself dating her doing things that I wanna do to her… like caressing her… long flowy hair…

But that day, I wasn’t in the mood to check her out… as I wasn’t feeling very well. Halfway through some sweat, I decided to visit the washroom to ease myself and to bail that place after that. As I was walking past her work out area, suddenly, I heard someone calling out for me.

“Errr … excuse me ?”
“Me ?” I gestured by pointing at myself
“Yes yes. Are you Michael ?”
“Yes, I am Michael. Do I know you ?”
“Oh… apparently I was right”
“Huh ? Right about what ?”
“I have noticed you all these while, but I wasn’t sure if it’s you”

I was like – wow, it has been a long time since I’ve had this kind of infatuation shit. What more from a girl which I myself had fantasize for some while.

“You got me alright, so, care to elaborate what’s this all about ?”

I tried to keep calm, you know, not to spoil the market.

“Well… err…”
“I’m still waiting”

Damn, I’m so cool.

“Well… I’m Ling. The landlord’s daughter… my father actually published your picture all over the place looking for you, after you’ve bailed out his 3 months’ rent. Now, pony up before I call up someone !”

Flowers, not all of them smell good.

*this post is a fictional work.
1st – I haven’t been to the gym for a loooooooong time.
2nd – the girl that I saw in that gym, wasn’t really that impressive.
3rd – I never bail on rents.
This entry was blogged blindly … because I was too fucking lazy to even think. This is a technique called ‘blind blogging’ – just type anything that crosses the mind. No thinking is needed.

michaelooi  | imaginations  | 7 Comments
December 7, 2004

cultural clash

I had this conversation with Keith inside my car, on our way home from work…

Keith : “You don’t have titty bars here, do you?”

Me : “Titty bars are illegal here.”

Keith : “Serious?”

Me : “Yes. We don’t have strippers club nor any titty bars here. Hell, even tits and kisses are censored on tv…”

Keith : “Damn, what’s legal here then?”

Me : “Whatever… but our country’s peaceful. We don’t have tornadoes, blizzards nor any motherfucking scary stuff here”

Keith : “Not even typhoon?”

Me : “Nope. It is summer all year long, save for a couple months of really shitty rainy weather”

Keith : “And I heard it’s death sentence here for possessing drugs?”

Me : “Sort of.”

Keith : “Man… no titty bars, expensive alcohol, no trucks, no drugs, no porn, hell, I don’t want to live here…”

Me : “Nothing’s perfect, bitch”

Keith : “What about Harleys? I’ve never seen any here”

Me : “A Harley has to be imported I think. Probably costs more than a hundred grand. And that’s not even a chopper”

Keith : “I ain’t paying that amount of money for a Harley …”

Me : “Yeah, might as well get a car or something”

Keith : “You know, there was this American I met last night who told me that he went to a club somewhere, where he got to dance with a girl for 400 bucks”

Me : “400 hundred bucks just to dance with a girl??”

Keith : “Yeah, and he gets to feel all over her.”

Me : “I ain’t paying 400 bucks to feel some girls… I think that guy got ripped off”

Keith : “Yeah, for 400 bucks, I’m screwing the girl.”

Me : “For 400 bucks, you’re screwing TWO girls!”

Keith : “You know, just before I came here, my wife picked up a stripper… and I screwed her…”

Me : “So, how much does that cost?”

Keith : “My wife picked her up on the way home”

Me : “Yeah, but how much?”

Keith : “What do you mean how much? She picked her up, it’s free!”

Me : “For free?? Wow! Why would she want to do that?”

Keith : “She likes my wife. And I screwed her while she screws my wife… ”

Me : [dumbfucked]

I met his wife before – a blonde with blue eyes, with a slightly large frame … and seriously, with that madcap behavior, I think he’s for real.

michaelooi  | dialogs  | 17 Comments
December 6, 2004

‘door ramming’ event

In a typical Chinese style wedding, there would always be a ‘door ramming’ event. No, this is not about wrecking the soon-to-be mother in law’s room door, not yet. This is about a tradition which the Chinese have been practiced for generations.

On the wedding day, the bride is usually be separated from the groom. Each of them will hold a gathering at their own residence, and when the time’s right, the groom will pompously lead a convoy of cronies (or relatives) to the bride’s residence to pick up his soon-to-be wife. The arrival of the groom is usually marked by a rowdy and boisterous honking of vehicles. Why exactly they need to do that, is still a mystery. I was told that it is a belief that the noise is to ward off evil spirits (evil mother in laws?), to ensure that the couple would lead a peaceful life ever after.
but then, we all know it never really worked… the population of evil mother in laws surpass the number of household lizards in the entire Asian region. So this is no more than just a tradition to follow blindly…

Upon arrival at the bride’s place, the groom then proceeds into the house to pick her up. But then, as with all traditions, it isn’t going to be that simple – for his bride will be held inside a locked room for ransom by her female version of cronies. In condition for her release, the groom is usually asked to comply with a series of embarrassing and humiliating requests (besides getting him to pay a hefty amount of *ang-pow or bribe money). The event of negotiating for that ransom, is thus called, the ‘door ramming’ event. It’s wicked… but fun.
*ang-pow – a small red colored envelope that usually contains gift-money as a sign of good fortune and luck in the Chinese tradition.

Yesterday, I was part of Ricky’s army of darkness that negotiated for the bride’s ransom in his ‘door ramming’ event. The bride was locked inside a room with a solid wooden door and was impossible to be mowed down by just kicks. So, it all boiled down to negotiation.

Ricky started off by yelling “Open the door woii!”. His calling was greeted by a series of giggles and some weak faint shrilling voices asking for “~ang pow … ang pow”. The group of blokes responded by playing possum – “What did they just say? Can’t hear you girls!… open the door, and so that we can hear you clearly”. (in fact, Ricky had already prepared an ang pow with a generous amount of money inside it, but he was not ready to give it to them just yet)

Voices in unison “ANG POW ! RM 9,999 !” came from inside the room.

The male convoy complained about the ridiculous amount of money… but the girls insisted. And after some exchange of teases and dawdling, Ricky and his best man slipped an empty ang pow under the fissure of the door – hoping to fool those female kidnappers inside the room (because the bride’s friends weren’t really the smart type). Ricky proceeded to knock on that locked door vigorously “Woii ! I’ve given the ang pow… now open the door woii !!”

The girls responded by rejecting the empty ang pow out from below the door, accompanied with a crudely written note “ANG POW with RM 9,999″. Then, someone suggested an ang pow with a credit card inside. Ricky slipped in an ang pow that contained a credit card into the locked room. “Woi! That’s a credit card worth RM 20,000 limit. Go swipe all you want, now open the door!”. Again, the ang pow was rejected out… with the credit card still inside. (told ya, they weren’t smart – for they could have used his card for gasoline or shits like that).

Ricky then made a short confirmation with his bestman “I think we should give them the real stuff…” and proceeded to hand them the authentic loaded ang pow to the sorority of money faced, materialistic but not very smart female kidnappers. Silence… then followed by a wave of laughter from inside the room. A clear voice then could be heard from inside –

[in Chinese] “Alright, we want you to sing a song that has the word ‘love’ in its lyrics for not less than 5 times”

You know what? The guys actually managed to come up with one of Aaron Kwok’s corniest song and sang it out loud. TWICE. It was tacky, humiliating and embarrassing at the same time, but still, the guys did it.

Then, from inside, the clear voice (which seemed to be the commander of the gang) decreed again – “Ricky, we want you to perform a blow job for the bestman”…

Just kidding. If Ricky were to do that, he’d have to marry that guy instead. Alright, the commander actually said “Ricky, we want you to perform 20 push ups…” (also known as ‘bench press’). The group contemplated for a while and agreed.

Instead of actually complying their demands, the guys conspired a faux countdown to fool the girls that he was actually performing the push ups (but he wasn’t). There was no way for them to be able to tell if Ricky really was doing it because the door was closed. And if they were to unlock/open the door – that would would give us guys the chance to barge in and they’ll lose the tug-of-war. (I suspected that they were all drunk inside that day… because that was too freaking dumb and sohai).

But then after a while, they realized about the blunder and decided to send out 2 blimps from within to do the talking. The guys tried to force the way in when they unlocked the door to smuggle out the 2 she-beefcakes but, the effort was futile. We underestimated their strength because seriously, those weren’t ordinary girls inside there. They were the types that could easily take down a whole squad of nightclub bouncers (with that sheer size)… no shit.

The 2 blimps then repeated their request – Ricky to push up for 20 times. Both sides were bargaining – and Ricky got it at 10 for himself and another 10 for the best man. So they were at it – the groom and the best man did push ups 10 each. (that wasn’t really a hard thing to do… was it? I’d do a 20 for my wife… but not more than that…).

Satisfied, the blimps then voiced their next demand – “Get 8 bills with a serial number that ends with the number 8. Any bills.” And the team of professional problem solving blokes began to dig their wallet for bills that has such an asinine detail. I mean, come on, the smallest bill is like… 1 buck. And no matter how many 8’s are there in the serial number, it’s still worth 1 frigging buck. If this was all about the belief of the number ‘8’ bringing wealth and fortune, then why not just ask for protection charms or amulets?

But we complied their absurd request anyway.

Then came the final stunt. Not exactly a stunt but more like a really weird request. They came up with a few limes with its top sliced off. “We want you to suck these limes and spit it out inside this empty cup”. Then someone from our team asked

“What do you want to do with the juice?”
“Nothing. We just want you guys to suck the lime juice and spit it out here. That’s all”
“No way… there has got to be a catch.. ”
“Alright, we want Ricky to know, that meeting his wife is akin to sucking the lime, very sour. But later, we are going to let him have a cup of honey – which means, it’ll be sweet like honey ever after”

WTF? We protested. This is a big lie! Ricky denied that meeting his wife was sour. It was suppose to be sweet, we chided the blimps. And later when they got married, when that bugger keep gaining weight, sits around doing nothing, spills beer on the sofa, and kicks the family cat – it’s gonna get really sour when his wife crashes some furnitures on his head. So, it should be, honey first… sour lime later. And those girls couldn’t seem to be able to figure this out. Well, all for the good wishes.

We sucked those limes nevertheless, and the groom had a few of us doing it together (which was quite bizarre as he was suppose to be the one figuring the sweet/sour lesson out, not us. He’s the one getting married…) and collected a full cup of lime juice mixed with drools. Just as we finished sipping the glass of honey, the cameraman (who was filming the entire event) suddenly whooped at the blimps “Now, drink that cup of lime juice!” and he got cheers from the crowd.

The reaction? “Girls, [knock knock] you may open the door now… ” – and Ricky was then reunited with his bride for the wedding that day.

michaelooi  | experiences  | 21 Comments
December 2, 2004

comment from old blog

I spelunked my old commenting system and found this from frangipanix

“Dear Mike,

Yes, I read your disclaimers; I just purposely wanted to antagonise you and see how you would reacts. Well, you’d even deleted my link! that’s shows how furious you are.

Mike, since I don’t know whether you would behave the same in business, but I’m telling ya, if everytime something trigger you, and your reaction is almost ‘predictable’, don’t be suprised that if someone were to manipulate your emotion in return! That’s the way with life!

In other words, just remain CALM at what others say.

p/s: I don’t care if you were to alter, delete or anything like that. Bcos all I wanted that you read and get this! Deleting ppl’s comment won’t hurt anyone, you know that right?”


dear frangipanix,
I did not delete your comment. I EXPURGATED it. Because I think it’s inappropriate. I thought you said that you’ve read my disclaimer … and yet you chose to deliberately post something not very nice in my blog (knowing that it would be expurgated).

Then I deleted your link in my blog, you know why? Because I don’t like you. Not pissed or anything but, just simply, I don’t like you. How could you expect me to like you when you ‘antagonize’ me ?

And as for your advice, well, you hardly even know me, what makes you think I’m what you thought I am? It seems like you like to draw conclusions pretty quick. That’s very smart indeed.

I have been computing since the monochrome era… and I have participated in more flamewars than you could ever think of. I definitely know what I’m doing. I have already explained to the guys in the old commenting system, and I’m not gonna repeat that.

A note for you though, I may sound sarcastic and vulgar here but, it only happens here. My own blog space. I never go around ‘antagonizing’ people in their blogs. And never in real life as well. (In fact, I donated for charity more than the number of pageviews in your blog.)

So, when you read my blog, just remember – you chose to read it. Don’t be fucking flaming when you think I suck or something. Save your time, just leave and never come back. If you intend to flame, insult, ‘antagonize’ or whatever me … then expect something as bad in return.

It’s pretty simple. Really.

Now that you reminded me, I shall remove your blog from my links again. That’s because I don’t like you and I ain’t pimping your blog for you. You ought to work hard for your own traffic – that’s the way of life.

michaelooi  | mails/posts  | 16 Comments

let’s vent

Damn, I know of a girl, a friend’s friend actually, that I hated very much. She is sure one hell of an annoying person… possible one of the most annoying I’ve ever seen in my life. Maybe it’s just me being sensitive but… oh screw it… I don’t have to feel bad about it. So, to hell with her – I hate this bitch. Sue me.

It’s hard for me to explain why she vexes me to this magnitude. Words can’t explain the impression she has on me, but, I’ll try my best to describe it.

Each time I see her, I would feel like barfing it out straight on her face and punch her tits. (oh she doesn’t have tits… I forgot). Yes, no tits. As flat as a post mortem table inside a morgue. That’s because she’s so skinny that the only fat tissue inside her body is inside her head. Nothing else inside except fat tissues. Because she’s so fucking stupid like that.

And ugly too. Imagine looking at a skull wrapped with a stretched out pale skin, add a wig with plenty of split ends and hand drawn hint of mustache on it. I’m not kidding… she really has a hint of greenish hue of mustache on her! If she were to be kidnapped by those Abu Satay rebels in Sabah, I bet in no time the whole gang will soon die of dehydration… from barfing too much.

Alright, sometimes, I can understand that it’s not a person’s fault for looking like a disfigured tribal. At least I can count on that person’s good personality or something like that. But noooo! This girl, she has a stinking attitude to go with her bad looks. She also yaks non-stop, in her tacky and fake English accent, all the fucking time. Hell, she would even apply her fake English accent to the Chinese dialects speaks. That’s like, another level of being annoying…

And the stuffs that she says, most of it are just stupid things. She would comment about basically anything she sees. From food to drinks, cats to dogs, bitch this bitch that, criticize this criticize that. I once spilled some hot soup on the table – she would crank up some shit like “Oh the shoup is shpillllled on the thable” – like she’s the only one who can see… (I actually replied her “Yessshhhhh .. I knoww dhattttt”).

oh my God – why did you create such a vile creature and put her on the same planet with me? #$%^&*@

P/S: she’s gonna join us clubbing tomorrow. I need to vent out everything here to content myself… else, I’m afraid I might shove the bar stool into her throat for yakking too much.

michaelooi  | rantings  | 18 Comments