Archive for May, 2005

May 3, 2005

“xXx: State of the Union” (2005)

To those of you that has lack of exposure to the movie realms, let me disclaim this to you – no, the movie “xXx 2″ is not a porn flick. I repeat, this is not a porn flick. But I’d be happier if it’s a porn though – at least it will be more entertaining.

That’s right, this movie is a total waste of time.

The original xXx was starred by Vin Diesel, playing the role as an extreme sports daredevil that would do anything dangerous for his own thrill. He was then somehow recruited as a spy for the government or something, and went around mopping up asses to save the world. Wasn’t a great movie but, at least Vin Diesel looked kinda good as the one man army tough dude…

I kinda expected the same standard for the successor of Vin Diesel, probably someone who’s even more badass. Like Triple H or something….But no. Instead, we got Ice Cube, the babyfaced corpulent short guy with a catastrophic name. I almost gasped for air when the word “badass” being quoted to describe Ice Cube.

Lardass maybe. But definitely not badass. I mean, come on, I’m sure there could have been more suitable candidates out there than having this cute Fat Albert to bully some schoolkids…

Alright, casting problem aside, the storyline was pretty spastic and lame as well, with tonnes of “Xtreme ridiculousness” – quite contrary to the original concept of the movie, where the X’s phonetically meant “Xtreme” … you know, referring to those not so smart stunts that people do just to get attention and being cool – skateboarding off a cliff, jumping from a building roof, raping a farm animal, etc – which we all seemed to love so much (especially when they hit a boner).

The movie is full of those Xtreme ridiculousness. One of the biggest bullshit in the movie was when Ice Cube was chasing after a bullet train with the new Shelby Cobra, doing a 165 ? Forgot the number. He would later crash the car behind the bullet train, bursting his tires away and glide smoothly on the track with its bare metal rims to catch up. What the fuck !?

1) Bullet trains don’t glide on normal rail tracks. They float on special magnetic tracks.
2) Let’s assume the bullet train DOES run on normal track, but how could the width of the track fits perfectly on a Cobra’s wheel span ??
3) Alright, even if it fits… the car and it’s driver would probably be electrocuted to crisp… as we all know bullet trains don’t run on diesel … or coals… but on high voltage power lines…
4) Ok ok, let’s even assume that the damn train runs on diesel… is it even credible for us to believe that a diesel train would be able to tear up 200 mph on normal railway track ??

What a joke. Just… stay out … of this crap.

michaelooi  | movie reviews  | 11 Comments
May 2, 2005

the rise of the brown rebels

It was 1am in the morning (last night), I was still hanging out with the guys inside a not-so-glamorous seafood restaurant whacking beers, when suddenly, I heard my call of nature. It was my stomach. Apparently, I must have ate something wrong and it was very upset.

I tried to check out the restaurant’s toilet to see if it was forgiving enough to let me take a dump… but unfortunately, the place’s worse than a Nazi camp full of decomposed organic wastes. And so, I decided to take a gamble to race back to my home for the big bang.

I frantically bade a not-so-sincere farewell to the guys and skedaddled into my car. By the time I grabbed the steering and twist the ignition, the pain already reached its laboring state … you know, I can feel my rectum contracting my poo out, of what it must be inches away from my anus.

“Fuck, I must hurry.”

And I zoomed off like a devil rushing for a closing hellgate deadline. I tore up the street like never before, on and off had to put up with the intermittent contraction. By the time I was halfway through the 15 minutes journey home, I was basically writhing in agony… with some hint of those lofty sensation that something the size of a nuclear warhead was about to ooze out from my ass…

I was so seriously concerned that I might not be able to make it home on time …that I even contemplated whether to settle the whole deal out at some secluded bushy spot instead. But then, it might not be a good idea … as I wouldn’t know if I might get arrested for indecent exposure in public places … or worse still, marauded in the ass by some confused wild animals in the anonymous bush …

“Oh look. A warm cave with some goodies inside. Let’s spelunk into it and romp !”

I took my vehicle to the next level, burning rubbers on paved roads to race against time and faith. Just when I had my 6th and the second most potent rectal contraction, I suddenly realized that things were about to get worse… I didn’t bring my house key.

Panic set in and I had cold sweats pouring out of my forehead. My condition then reached the critical stage – stomach was rumbling constantly and my shits started to act as if they have minds of their own. I was beginning to lose control of my sphincter … and those rebels were almost near forcing their way out.

Without procrastinating further, I whipped out my cellphone and dialed for Emily (who was sleeping soundly). I gave her for what it must be like 7 miss-calls ?… but nobody answered. She’s immune to wake up calls. My flying aircraft was about 1 minute away from its collision course… and I needed someone to prepare the emergency docking procedure …

I called my mom instead. Fortunately, she answered with just a few beeps. It was the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard … despite her half awake coarse voice …

“Mom… I need you to unlock the door and open it for me… quick ! ”

And I screeched the final turn into my apartment block and abandoned the car (simultaneously, shutting down the engine and open the door at the same time). But I had to refrain from running just as I was about to step into the elevator… that’s because I was having my final most badass contraction …and a big motherfucking piece of shit was about to be born into this planet. I could feel it coming.

I almost screamed in terror and had to clamp both my arse cheek to suppress it from coming out. I had to half-hop into the elevator … make my way through the 2 bloody long floors (which almost felt like forever), capered indecorously through that corridor and make a turn into my apartment. Sure enough, mom did a great job – the main door was left wide open already and I quickly make the final dash towards the toilet.

You see, every time I face a situation like this ? I always felt that the toilet bowl has it’s own force of shit gravity. Like the Death Star in the Star Wars chronicles sucking up the Millennium Falcon into its docking bay. Same here. As I was hopping towards the bowl … my sphincter gave way and my poo suddenly declared its independence from my ass suppression, as it was being sucked out by that toilet bowl.

But I was quick enough to angle my ass towards the Death Star… and loosened my rubber sweat pants (along with my underwear) in time to fire the pressurized torrent of shit cocktail right into the bowl puddle (that happened even before my ass touches the bowl rim) – with a force so strong that it actually plopped a splash high enough to wet my ass cheeks.

My ass literally exploded for the next minute, purging an assortment of poo sizes into the colossal space station. It was only after the storm had calmed down that I was able to muster my strength to properly shut the toilet door … and inspect my underwear for any radioactive contamination.

It appeared clean … the force had been with me…

michaelooi  | experiences  | 30 Comments
May 1, 2005

the mystery of the missing raincoats

Circa 1977. Almost 1978. The month was desolately dark and gloomy. There had been weird thefts occurring around the ghettoish slum … and everyone was very upset about it. No, it wasn’t the underwears or bras this time. But raincoats. Only black raincoats.

The strange phenomenon instigated some grave concern, that there might be some sex depraved maniac out there stealing raincoats to indulge in his kinky exhibition of flashing acts. Or even worse, prowl on unsuspecting housewives… waiting to rape and sodomize them for his own sadistic gratification.
(though it’s kinda impossible because housewives are known to travel in big groups and elicit ear piercing noises that very few could tolerate…)

But nobody could do anything about the thefts – for the purported ‘thief’ proved to be as elusive and cunning as any professional criminal… and more raincoats would continue to go missing without trace. Why only black raincoats ? Why not other priced belongings ? The mystery befuddled even the most veteran residents that had seen everything…

Until one day, somebody saw 2 silhouettes of some midget sized being (wearing a cape) in a dark squalid corridor … prancing slowly staring at each other. Each of them was holding an elongated object … of what seemed to be some kind of glowing plastic sword… and were making hissing noises as they went about … Then, without warning, both would start to slash at each other in a series of feigned sword fight moves, with plenty of exaggerated oral sound effects.

ZIIIIIIUUUUUZZZZZ ZZIIIUUUUZZZZZ

The swordfight would later be joined by another few more cape wearing members, and the whole place would be inflamed with those ‘sword’ wielding fanatics yelling and fighting each other.

Sure enough, upon closer inspection, that ‘somebody’ noticed that those were actually a bunch of kids playing… and the capes they were wearing ? Those were the black raincoats that had been disappearing from motorcycle shacks. Well, what made those kids to have a sudden craze on black raincoats? 2 words :

Darth Vader.

It was the Star Wars fever that had infected the kids. According to my mom, basically, every single kids in our residential area worshiped the dark force back then… and idolized the masked tyrant as god. It was the period where the sales of batteries and electrically powered glowing plastics swords soared like never before. And black motorcycle raincoats as well.

So guys, if you own a motorcycle ? Remember to lock your raincoat up. It will happen again this coming May…

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | 6 Comments