Archive for 2005

December 12, 2005

be kind to iguanas

Mannnn… people end up at my blog for strange reasons. I spotted the following search string in my stats program yesterday:

can iguanas get brain damage if you use alcohol to make an iguana release you from its bite

Can you believe that? That person actually still cares about the welfare of an iguana who wanted to have a piece of him. Or shall I say, STILL HAVING A PIECE of him. Goddamn. Bet that person must be one of those animal-lover bigots. (I wonder if that iguana’s jaw was still fused to his flesh when he did the Google search…)

If you were to ask me, I’d say I’m gonna fucking make sure that son of a bitch GETS A BRAIN DAMAGE FOR DOING THAT.

Like, who the hell cares if an iguana would get a brain damage from alcohol intoxication? Especially when it’s acting belligerent like that and thinks you’re his cheeseburger? As if your benevolence would touch that beast’s soft spot and instigate it to repent as a savage animal to defect into a herbivore like you and your retarded school of spastic mongoloid vegetarians.

Well, let me break the bad news to you – No that isn’t going to happen. That’s because – THAT DAMN LIZARD DOESN’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK! His (assuming the lizard’s a bloke) hostility is part of his defense mechanism against danger, which, in this case, is YOU (the doofus who got bitten by an iguana) – who must be trying to molest it or something.

Being human, it’s only logical if we could REFLEX back OUR DEFENSE MECHANISM – go find a knife and repeatedly stab that iguana until it releases its jaw. Don’t worry, it’s not going to get any brain damage (as you’re not stabbing it’s head).

Or you can just play the original idea – grab a bottle of booze, and fucking intoxicate it till that lizard succumbs to brain damage. (funny, that’s what we do to ourselves every Saturday night).

There you have it, another community service brought to you by

michaelooi  | what I saw  | 8 Comments
December 11, 2005

dual personality

There’s something that I have been wanting to tell you people… I think I have a dual personality. There’s this “good me” and the “bad me”. For most of the time, I am this “good me”. Helping people, being obeisant, altruistic, talk to the plants… you get the idea. But at times when you least expect bad things to happen, wham! I’ll turn into this “bad me”. Spontaneously.

Testament to my claims, look at my past entries. Geez. Those are just a small part of the whole thing. It’s hard to believe some of the stuffs that I did when I was being the “bad me”. Stuffs that I never thought of wanting to do nor dreamt of doing. And sometimes, these acts would literally put my life in danger… which was always totally out of the plan.

Just like what happened a few months ago when I was hanging out at my workplace corridor with my buddy Wilson. I was being this “good me” of course… until I saw this really big chick coming out from the office – that beckoned me to transform into the “bad me”.

Well, we see these “big people” (translated as goddamn motherfucking fat asses) all the time. No big deal. Most people would just get stone-assed at their lardy significance and move on. But not for the “bad me”. The “bad me”, would start to jump around and pull some inappropriate stunts in front of that blimp chick – as a WWF pro-wrestler. Pretending that I’m headbutting some grunts with my colossal head and elbow-choke him with my mighty arms. All that? To hint at that blimp chick that she’s fucking BIG and she looks like a pro-wrestler.

But I was very lucky that she wasn’t smart enough to catch the sarcasm that day, else I would have been REALLY headbutted and elbow-choked by that human whale. No shit. And even more luckier than that, the rest of the gawkers happened to witness the whole thing and started to laugh like hyenas having a stroke. Man, those fuckers ought to stop me from doing the despicable act… but instead? they laughed. Talking about looking out for your friends.

So, you see, I sometimes would act like a dick without realizing it. That would be the time you know that the “bad me” has taken over my bodily control. It’s not of my fault. The real me, is a nice person. Hence, if one day, I happen to grope your tit, spank your ass or do something that’s totally insane? just forgive me.

For I, was just being the “bad me”. Which isn’t the real me at all. Have a nice day.

michaelooi  | ramblings  | 7 Comments
December 7, 2005


I have finally met him. The mysterious Lavatory Andy Lau; a Bangladeshi janitor who has been the talk amongst the employees. I’ve heard so much about this guy’s bungling acts inside male restrooms. It is said that he likes to grip the mop like a mic and howl Bangladeshi ballads inside the toilet.

But he wasn’t holding his ‘mic’ when I saw him today. He was busy singing to an urinal when I entered the office restroom.
His eyes locked to the small drain hole and hands tenderly scrubbing it with a brush… as if he’s envisioning himself scrubbing a Hindustan bimbo inside an MTV. He was so ‘involved’, that he was completely oblivious to my presence there..

And that was when I had this realization… about the fucked-up-ness of my workplace. Heed this..
– Our janitor’s capable to pull some Amitabh Bachan shits inside the loo
– high paying management dorks loaf around in office wasting resources

I mean, doesn’t that point to some pattern of non-conformity here? We’ve wrongly hired
– entertainers to clean our shits
– the janitors to lead our department


I was so tempted to walk over to Andy and tell him about his rightful place… that I would be grateful to have him as my boss anytime. No shit, he probably won’t be able to understand plenty of English… but at least, he’s passionate about what he’s doing. (you should check out how he longingly gaze at the urinal…)

But I chose not to interrupt Andy in his sentimental singing binge. For I knew, my effort would be futile and I don’t want to spoil his days dreaming about what he could have been. He’s much happier not knowing what I know.

I quietly moved to one of the urinals behind him feeding my dick to one of his Hindustan bimbo and be done with it. I left him a fart as tip. A heavy one.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | 15 Comments
December 5, 2005

sounding good

Someone tried to call me while I was away from my desk last Friday. I knew that because my answering machine registered a few blank messages made by some outside calls. I had no idea who it was, as my ID recognition cache pointed to a bogus number. Probably some n00b who doesn’t know how to leave a message, I thought… and went on doing my stuffs.

About 10 minutes later, my phone rang. I picked the phone up and was greeted by an unfamiliar female voice. She introduced herself and went about telling me that she has been trying in vain to reach me. Apparently, this girl was in some trouble (picking up somebody’s shit)… and she needed my enlightenment about the whole thing. (I was involved because I’m femes… yeah bebeh).

Normally… under such circumstances, I would just ask the person to sod off (since it’s not my problem) and figure the problem herself. But this time, I somehow relented and took the trouble to guide the poor little girl to the right path. The reason? I was hypnotized. That’s right. Hypnotized by her unique voice.

It was deep and matured… with a tinge of mesmerizing coarseness that was out of this world. Her speech was not only concise, but was also articulate and naturally fluent. She’s smoooooooth talking like that and her voice was pleasing to the ears. And the most impressive thing about this girl was, she knew the right words to beckon for one’s sympathy and yet, managed to remain professionally calm at the same time. (unlike some skanky bitch who would go mental on the phone over the smallest of matter). She’s a living masterpiece.

I was captivated by the grace of her linguistic awesomeness and couldn’t help but to imagine how she’d look like on the other side of the line. Average height, straight long hair, fair complexion, phoenix-sharp eyes, firm round ass, pink nipples… Probably dons a pair of decent looking jeans matched with a white T-shirt (OMFG, white T-shirts are so goddamn sexayyyy SCREAM!!!). A common looking girl with an aura of special charm that one could feel, not see. Something like that.

But unfortunately, that will just remain as a hallucination projected by my imaginative mind. I’ll never get to find out how she actually looks like. Not that it’s a bad thing though… because more often than not, the truth can be pretty disappointing. You see, I’ve had enough bad experiences to fucking assure you this, a person’s voice may not necessary conform to his/her looks. And vice versa.

Like there was one time I made an appointment with a receptionist at a German factory for a meeting with an engineer? I was kinda expecting the floral-sweet voice to be of some cute Malay girl’s… but that person turned out to be a hirsute Punjabi blimp with a thicket of beard. I almost died of stroke that day.
And then there was once I flagged down a tall burly waiter at a nasi kandar outlet to place my order, when he fidgeted me with his pussy voice – which sounded just like that Malay-language-dubbed Doraemon voice on TV. I almost died trying not to laugh at that poor guy.

So, as you can see, it is probably best for me to remember her as that imaginary charming phoenix-eyed girl… instead of some pockmark faced shapeshifter that smells like a sewer rat with genital warts.

Reality can never be that beautiful.

michaelooi  | ramblings  | 14 Comments
December 4, 2005

charles’ maid

I was at Charles’ place checking out his new Grand Turismo game, when I saw his husky maid came loping down from the upper floor. That was strange – I thought, as I recalled him saying that his maid had absconded from his house a couple days ago. Feeling that it’s appropriate to ask about that, I asked

“Eh dude, I thought you said your maid had gone AWOL a couple days ago?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I just saw her walk into your kitchen”

Charles turned his head to look and said

“That’s my sister lah!”
“Your sister?”

That’s right. His sister. Who used to be petite and slender, has now turned into something that resembled an amalgam between an Indonesian maid and a crude oil barrel.

“She’s pregnant and had horizontally grown in size. Scary isn’t it?”
“Sheesh! I thought she’s your Indonesian maid!”

Being a jackass as he always is, he the yelled out to his sister and said

“EIIYEERRRRRR [sis’ name], look at Michael… he’s so bad.”
“He said you looked like an Indonesian maid!”

FYI, if you haven’t already knew it, the last thing a female would ever want to hear is someone complimenting on her sheer size of terror. So, naturally, right at that very moment, I was kinda bracing for the worst… probably a few screamings or maybe even, flying objects towards my direction.

But fortunately, she didn’t go apeshit… just shook her head in disappointment and went back upstairs. Me and my lucky ass (and big mouth).

I can be a such a prick sometimes…

Note to my friend Charles: I hope your Grand Turismo CD would get corrupted and your PS2 console explodes, fucker.

michaelooi  | happenings  | 13 Comments