Archive for 2005

August 5, 2005

an encounter with a bumpkin

I stumbled into Eric at a corridor, and we stopped for a moment to catch up on some office politics. It was right outside a meeting room that we stood, when I was approached by EeTee – a motherfucking harridan from some department whom I loathed a great deal lot. She was holding a coffee mug with her right hand and precariously balancing her notebook with her left… and she called out to me “Aaaaahh ooooh aaaaah ooooh”.

Just kidding.

I would have punched her face flat if she did that. Here’s the actual conversation.

EeTee : “Michael… would you please open the door for me…”

No she’s not asking about my barn door. She was referring to the meeting room door – which she had trouble to open it since she had her hands full. Now, I could have chosen not to help her and asked her to fuck off instead… but because I’m such a courteous person, I opened the door for her. I then jokingly said :

Me : “Well, aren’t you glad that I happen to be standing around here?”

It was supposed to be a light hearted banter, like what we professional people used to do to each other. But the bitch didn’t take it well.

EeTee : “I was just asking you to open a door… if you don’t feel like opening it, you don’t have to. I can always ask someone else.”

And she disappeared into the room slamming the door behind her.

Fucking bitch. Why didn’t she say that before entering the meeting room? I would have slammed back the door, spat into her mug of coffee, kicked her shin… and pin on her… and I’m gonna ask Eric (the disturbed) to rip her uterus out with his ballpoint pen.

Me : “Bitch… ” I whispered under my breath.

That was when the meeting room door swung open and out came EeTee along with a barely audible tone of “thanks…”. And she bolted off to the lavatory. To have some diarrhea perhaps, that’s because she’s so full of shit.

Some people ought to be born as a plant instead.

michaelooi  | happenings  | 15 Comments
August 4, 2005

important “notice”

I received a forwarded email today. An email supposedly of goodwill, pertaining some hard lesson learnt by a not-so-fortunate bloke at Tesco Penang (Tesco’s a hypermarket if you don’t know that already). Apparently, somebody broke into that poor guy’s car in the car park and snitched his notebook computer. Feeling angry and discontent, this guy sent a complain email to the security director of Tesco… probably with a tirade of angry speech about his misfortune and the insecurity of the place (it was not included in the mail).

The security director replied (in the email) long windedly detailing his sympathy and some general comments about car break-ins. Kinda professional I would say, as the director was quite modest and polite with plenty of apologies. But that guy chided the security director with a reply (though in a diplomatic manner) – which he lamented more about the insecurity of the place… and proposed what they (Tesco management) COULD HAVE DONE TO PREVENT car break-ins. Here’s what he suggested :

– Assign MORE security guards to patrol the car park
– Put up NOTICES/SIGNS to warn the motorists about the RISKS of car break-in’s in their premise(s).

And he duly added a phrase right at the end of his reply email :

If I have seen such a notice, I would not have left my laptop in the boot – not even for the 15 minutes when I was there. In that sense I feel that Tesco should be partly accountable.

I was like – WHAT THE FUCK ??

Put up NOTICES to warn people about car break-in’s so that they ACKNOWLEDGE that it’s UNSAFE to put their valuables inside their car?? So… theoretically, if you lost your notebook in a break-in right in front of a nightclub, it’s morally sane to ‘partially’ blame the pimp/bawd for failing to put up a notice to disclaim that it’s unsafe to put your valuables inside your car??

Well then, why not put up heaps of notices all over the city telling people to beware of snatch thieves, rapists or ignorant motorists?? Or perhaps notices to tell the thieves that it’s illegal to break into someone’s car?? Or how about expecting your fuck buddy’s parents to put up notices that it’s UNSAFE to hump their daughter without condom?? And blame them for any bastard child you happen to conceive (if they didn’t put up a disclaimer/notice)???

Yeah, that will solve all our problems.

If you’re thinking what I’m thinking – yes, it’s ridiculous. It’s all common sense. You don’t fucking leave your valuables inside your car… no matter where you are and you do not need any notices to remind you that. Period.

The security forces are hired to primarily safeguard the property of the premise owner – like preventing looters from stealing their goods, hooligans from vandalizing their facilities, etc etc. It’s of their SECONDARY CONCERN to guard your ass from getting mugged/messed-up. That means – if it’s within their jurisdiction to help, they’ll do it out of their goodwill. If it’s not, well.. too bad, settle your score ELSEWHERE.

That guy, no doubt wasn’t very bright. I won’t call him stupid because I feel compassionate about his situation… for I have fallen prey to car burglars for a couple of times. (I’ve lost a 16K notebook in the first incident; a 1.5K car stereo, 600 over bucks Oakley sunglasses and a few original CDs in the second). It’s all myself to blame, and I lived another day with a dear lesson learnt – NEVER TO FUCKING PUT ANYTHING VALUABLE INSIDE MY CAR, WHEREVER I AM AT.

I do not intend to send that guy an email to insinuate my opinion about his ‘ideas’… since it’s not my obligation to make him a wiser person. (that privilege only goes to my blog readers… *wink*). Besides, it’s none of my business. I’m blogging it here because I think it’s something good to share with you people with notebooks out there – always remember to refrain from keeping your notebook (or anything valuable) inside your car. It takes very little to lug that bag of notebook along, but a lot lot lot more to recover the data/stuffs you may lost along with that notebook… like the bookmark to my blog… the wonderful porn links that brought loads of sentimental values to your hands… and so on…

Take care people.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | 36 Comments
August 3, 2005

it’s not right

I have this gray colored khaki you see, and it has this really stiff zipper. Each time when I sit down, it will fold into some nasty protrusion that kinda makes me look as if I’m having a hard-on. Know what’s a hard-on ? When you’re thinking dirty and your dick/kukuchiao turns into Incredible Hulk… that’s called a hard-on.

And because the metal (of my zipper) isn’t really flexible in nature, the shape stays on even when I’m not in my sitting position – so I realized. That’s what happened today at my office. I was walking around with that fake impression to people that I’m having an erection!

What’s worse, I didn’t take notice about that today and got a lot of attention at my crotch. Males and females alike. I felt uneasy of course, and tried to discreetly check my zipper, thinking that it might be open or something – but couldn’t find anything wrong with it. It never occurred to me that something had gone wrong in such a fashion.

So I tried to live with the awkwardness inside the office, and was on the verge of thinking to blog about people being uncannily interested in gawking at my nether regions…. until I gave myself a stretch in my office chair in the late afternoon and finally saw it. My “erected” prick towering above the sky… like a control tower in an airfield.

I frantically straightened the zipper back to its normal position and pulled my pants higher. But I knew it was already too late. The damage had been done. There must had been hundreds of people who saw that “protrusion” on my pants … Either they’re gonna think that I have an abnormally big dick or I’m a goddamn pervert heading to the toilet to jerk off.

So much for my reputation… Sheesh. I wish I could just jump up on a desk and shout – I’M NOT HAVING AN ERECTION !!!

michaelooi  | experiences  | 23 Comments
August 2, 2005

plastic dreams

I saw this program about plastic surgery on Discovery (during a break in our cafeteria) and was totally fucked in the brain with what I saw. Almost sprayed my glass of Horlicks Ho-Late on the face of my colleague when a part of the program showed a middle aged housewife bared her skin to the camera – for the plastic surgeon to do the explaining bit.

The surgeon explained that the housewife, whom I reckoned was in her 50’s, had problems with her weight (as if the viewer couldn’t tell by themselves) and went there to have her coagulated lards surgically sucked out (term: liposuction). The camera then panned to that bloated mountain of cellulite… macro in the view of her ridged flabs of punctured spare tires and detailing the cracked epidermal layer of her overstretched skin. It even showed some part of her saggy tits … (which I described to my colleagues that it was saggy enough to be able to incubate an egg under each of her tits) It was damn graphical.

For a second there, it gave me the idea that being a plastic surgeon is the toughest job on this planet. No shit.

The program then briefly took the screen into the surgical room, where the scene got even more repulsive – we get to see all these skin grafting activities, blood and gores, etc etc… and finally post the whale-butchering scene, the recuperated housewife was then shown giving some testimonial about the whole thing, you know, how it had improved her life bla bla bla.

Apparently, she did all that to impress her semi-impotent-looking wrinkled husband. I mean, did she actually think that all the high cost and painful transformation would really improve her relationship with her husband ? Didn’t it occur to her that her Huttese form will be resurrected again in no time because she may have some serious eating disorder ? Or her failing relationship might be due to something else ? It is very mind boggling about what women would do to look better.

The same goes for those who goes for a boob job. The ladies make their boobs bigger to boost their ‘self-confidence’ and in hope obscure the less appealing side of their physique. But would that actually make guys feel better about them ? Guys, do you feel good about girls having fake titties ? Not for me dude. The first thing that crosses my mind when I see a girl with fake tits, is SLUT. “You cheap motherfucking bawdy slut!” (trust me, I can spot a fake set of titties even in my most inebriated condition). Give me an original anytime.

A sane being should be able to figure out that a relationship isn’t all about walloping bigger tits or having a lighter agile sex. It’s much more deeper than that. No shit we guys love to ogle at tits and slobbering at hot bods. But when it comes to serious relationship, it could very well be something that’s much more complex than that. Complex things like

– your attitude (behaving like a bitch, cunt, despicable hag),
– your habits (splurging on something you don’t need, etc)
– your wisdom (squawking over the simplest of dissatisfaction, etc)
– many more

If your spouse’s leaving you, you should instead ask yourself – Are you being rational as a wife ? Have you done what it needs to be in a happy relationship ? Is your spouse an asshole ? If it’s all yes – then fuck him. Get a new husband. If it’s all no – then FUCK YOU. Go fix your problems.
Nobody needs no plastic surgery. (unless you’re badly disfigured from some accidents or because you’re a superstar that needed all that perfection for monetary benefits)

When you’re old, you’re old. If you’re not good looking, you’re not good looking. Just accept the fact. You will still be an eyesore if you have a personality problem, no matter how much botox you inject into your body… or how much grease you manage to vacuum out of your ass. And it wouldn’t change the fact that your desperate whorehound husband would still prefer to hump a promiscuous young chick with original tits for a couple hundred bucks … rather than having sex with a stiff silicone corpse like you.

If only these people could think.

And also, if you would deign to imagine how your corpse would look like with a pair of silicone bags after your biological cells start to wither or rot away… you’d look ridiculous. Dead or alive.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | 24 Comments
August 1, 2005

getting there…

Man, I think I’m getting old. The signs are obvious… you know, my failing memories, my uncanny liking of hot baths, the momentum of how a hangover affects me the day after… just to name a few. Sheesh.

Just on the other day, I was catching up with some of my junior cousins at my grandfather’s birthday dinner. Couldn’t help but notice how much they’ve all grown. It seemed like it was only not long ago that I saw one of them pounding away on a Playstation console yelling obnoxiously, totally disregarding the welfare of others.

Now, one of the little guys is talking about himself having girlfriends… bragging about how rebellious he is at home… consuming alcohol… and how he amassed his own collection of scars from motorcycle accidents etc. Fuck. This is not good. The kid you always thought he is? Is now an adult shagging chicks of his own – and that means only one thing. You’re getting old.

I was trying not to get too overtly upset about it and put up a smile throughout the day to hide my misery. But I couldn’t. The thought had somehow ‘opened’ my eyes to see things in a different perspective. Now I realized that most of my buddies of my age have ceased their partying habit (so have I) and resorted to hanging out at some slow places sipping beers and talking about getting married.

Man this is so worrying. What happened to me? Whose life used to be full of fun and vigor? Why is everyone starting to worry about money… and insurance … and family … and shits like that ? And since when do we have to consider the welfare of our own liver ? Now I even have to (unconsciously) deal with the pang of conscience when I fork out a few thousand bucks to buy something I like. I used to be easy on that kind of thought for something that I DON’T EVEN NEED. What the fuck is happening to me ?

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the dawn of my middle-ageism. I’m turning into the monster that I’ve always dreaded. “Oh damn, look at those flock of old bastards entering our pub… this place sux, let’s fucking bail”. I’m becoming one of those old bastards myself. It’s a matter of time before I start to worry about having kids, sending them to colleges, and bailing them out from jail for porking with the wrong chick. And before I even realize it, I’ll be discussing about which retirement home that has the best tasting denture solvents … or at some street selecting the best looking coffin to house my corpse.

This feeling, is not a wee bit pleasant at all. I really don’t like it. I think I’m having an advanced version of middle age crisis. I think I’m gonna die soon. Leave me alone.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off