Archive for April, 2006

April 20, 2006

requirements for dating Uncle Michael’s daughter

The prerequisite requirements for dating Uncle Michael’s daughter:

- A reader of MichaelOoi.net of minimum 3 years, or commented there for at least 200 times with intelligent questions/remarks – whichever comes first. (subject will be randomly asked with questions pertaining MichaelOoi.net archived entries for verification)

- The first time and every time you see Uncle Michael, you must pay royalty in the form of alcoholic beverage in 1 liter packaging. If the liquor is contraband or of counterfeit quality, you’ll be banned indefinitely from seeing his daughter

- You’ll have to declare any outing/date one week in advance, where you’ll also be required to register your personal details (residence address, academic history, place of employment, etc) with Uncle Michael. Uncle Michael will use that one week buffer period to verify your facts. If any of the declaration is found to be bogus, you can start look for another date.

- Any time you would like to bring Uncle Michael’s daughter out to anywhere, you’re required to leave your passport.. AND… something of significant value as mortgage at his residence (eg. your notebook, your expensive watch, your pet dog, etc)

- You’re required to bring Uncle Michael’s daughter home, safe and sound, before midnight. If you’re late for more than 5 minutes, Uncle Michael’s gonna torch your mortgage item. More than 10 minutes, your passport will be destroyed. More than 15 minutes, Uncle Michael’s gonna molotov cocktail your bike/car the next morning.

- Uncle Michael will be operating a toll inside/near his residence. A toll that charges exorbitant price to cover the painstaking years of raising his daughter. You are required to pay for the toll charges with no question asked. If you fail to pay, or attempt to bargain, you can start look for another date.

- Uncle Michael will probably rear a very mean dog. If Uncle Michael’s dog doesn’t like you, you’ll have to bring his daughter home 1 hour before the stipulated curfew hour and pay double the required exorbitant toll fee (to insure against your lack of charm and build up Uncle Michael’s confidence)

- If you ever hurt Uncle Michael’s daughter’s feelings or make her sad, Uncle Michael’s gonna make his mean dog hurt your bunghole in return, and make you an even more sad motherfucker.

*I’ll update the list when I can think of more

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 33 Comments
April 19, 2006

a grandma named ‘Randy’

I had to accompany Emily to go for her routine checkup today. But because the waiting room’s so full of knocked up ladies and constipated housewives (so I presumed), we kinda had to wait at the adjacent pediatric waiting area – where I get to see plenty of crazy kids running around screaming like the world’s gonna end, concurrently reminding me about the perilous journey I’m gonna have to drag my ass through… and what kind of life that would be left for me…

In the middle of the pandemonium and self demotivating thoughts, I noticed of a nice little girl sitting on a miniscule wooden stool with an elderly woman squatting nearby… whom I supposed is her grandmother. That little girl was working on some motley puzzle cubes with full concentration, while the grandmother kept an eye on her (probably just to make sure that she doesn’t swallow a table). Then all of a sudden, the little girl turned over to her grandma and asked, loudly

“Grandma, why won’t you sit?”

Grandma instantly went beet red – embarrassed – and sheepishly answered,
“Uhmmm errr uhmmmm, grandma, uhmmmm… cannot sit…”

And the little girl didn’t even bother to ask why. Coz everyone knew why. If you don’t, then let Uncle Michael tell you why – it’s because Grandma is as big as Randy Savage “The Machoman”. Heck… grandma even has the same spiral perm hairstyle, coupled with a tight nylon tank top to reveal her doughy pair of wrestler hands, and a pair of faded eyebrow tattoo with greenish hue on it – she looked FORMIDABLE to even Randy Savage himself. If grandma were to sit on that little chair, it’s gonna fucking explode. You know why, little girl? That’s because grandma weights a few planets more than the biggest Barney you can ever find.

I was stifling myself hard not to laugh, so as not to show a very bad example to the youngs (maybe I was just being considerate, there were no kids checking me out). Man, it escapes me why anyone of that age and size, would do so much to ‘enhance‘ their physical appeal. Like, come on, what is she reckoning to get out of that outrageous makeover? A wolf whistle? A one night stand boon from a hunk? Puhleeezz… with that kind of outlook, she’ll scare even the meanest wookie! no shit holy motherfucking cow!

I’m amazed that the kid’s still fine. She’s one tough little girl. If I were to have a grandma that looks like that? I’m gonna be so freaked out, that I’ll swallow a table.

michaelooi  | what I saw  | 5 Comments
April 18, 2006

twisted

I was busy surfing the net at home, about a good 20 feet away from Emily, who was working on something with her notebook at the coffee table.

Emily : “Dear…”

Me : “hmm?”

Emily : “Would you please bring me that mousepad?”

How I wished that I could answer her “No”. But everyone on this planet knows, I can’t. Why? 3 reasons.

1) She’s my wife.
2) I love her.
3) She’s pregnant.

That’s a triple kill for whatever faux inconveniences/excuses I can come up with. Even if I’m suffering a temporary paralysis, I’ll have to think of a way to bring that mousepad to her. (Just in case you don’t know – 20 feet is equivalent to 20 million miles to any bloke in a couch-potato mood at home)

Me : [walks over with the mousepad] “Why don’t you just keep this mousepad under the coffee table? That way, I don’t have to painstakingly bring you the mousepad every time you need it.”

Emily : [giggles] “I just love asking you to bring me that mousepad. Let’s keep it that way”

I have a strange feeling that it wasn’t all about the mousepad. It’s about the twisted ways of a particular odd behavior. I’ve got 2 months to go before the madness ends…

So, people, if you’re not ready to scale the distance to the moon by foot, don’t get married.

michaelooi  | 2-of-us  | 32 Comments

friendly disclaimer

I came to know that some of you have just discovered my blog. Well, big fucking deal and good for you. I have nothing to say to you and also, please, don’t be confronting me in public about what I’ve written or what you think about me. This blog, is my own personal site for letting out… an extended hidden side of me that I prefer not to discuss in person. I hope you people can respect that…

And then, there might be some posts of mine which may cause you some discomfort, especially those concerning my/our workplace and it involves you, somehow. I can offer no explanation on this difficult behavior of mine. Maybe if I don’t do this (bitching about fucked up people at workplace inside my blog), I’d probably be an even more difficult person. Like, someone you hate, who could backstab your ass and discreetly spit on your keyboard. Who knows.

Hence, the only logical thing that I can offer to you, should you ever feel pissed about what I have written here, is an advice. The advice is – Just find the nearest toilet bowl, put your head into it, and flush. Heheh…

It is only good if you can understand, that the moment you choose to read this sacred site that details the sick side of my personality, you’re making a decision to delve deeper into what I think – and I shall not be held accountable to whatever negative repercussions that might befall on you. Take this as a privileged disclaimer for those of you who knows me personally.

I certainly hope that this will not change anything about our existing friendship. If I tulan you, we probably would never have been friends in the first place. Think about it.

Have a nice day guys.

michaelooi  | site stuff  | Comments Off
April 17, 2006

thinking back

I was having my lunch with Emily at Nandos the other day, and in came a group of whipper snappers. 4 boys and a girl. The girl had a kiddy face and a pair of fully developed tits, I presume those bunch must be at the age range between 12 – 14. Ahhhhh, the golden itchy age. When everything starts to look very different, and our hormones would circulate in high pressure to make us that rebellious hero against our ever so wrong parents.

And I reckon that was what must be going on in those kids’ lives. Dress to impress – branded sneakers, chic watches, funky hairstyles, phone with mp3 players, etc. And where did I see those kids again? Nandos. That’s hell of a posh restaurant for me, at any stage in my life. As an adult, I only dine there like… once in a while… just for the sauce, it’s still damn expensive for my standard. But those kids walked in as if they’ve been there thousands of times. They didn’t even need to look at the menu. Sheesh.

Thinking back… when I was at that age, I didn’t even get enough money to take a bus there. My mom only gave me 1 ringgit per day as pocket money. A buck that could buy no shit even in the late 80′s. I’d hoover my lunch at a shoddy economic rice stall after school, I remember, for a hardly filling plate of rice.

white rice – 30 cents
a scoop of sour vegetable stew – 30 cents
plenty of curry gravy – free
total – 60 cents.

If I ever got thirsty, I’d buy a pack of soy bean drink for 20 cents and I would still have another 20 cents left. That was not enough for a bus ride even if I was in my school uniform. I would hence spend off that 20 cents to buy a few guppy fishes and release it to the nearby stream to gain some good karma.

Kidding.

You’d be a spastic if you believed that. Kids at that age have no conscience. That 20 cents, I would spend it inside the local arcade game outlet for a round of ‘Double Dragon‘. Oh yeah.

In the age when there were only 3 channels on TV, personal computers as expensive as your family car’s gearbox, and everything on the console looked like a calculator on steroid, ‘Double Dragon’ became a big thing for the kids. 20 cents for a 10 minutes’ worth of orgasmic ass kicking entertainment – it was every kid’s desire – just located around the corner of the street. It was as addictive as a bar of chocolate (only that it’s much much cheaper than a bar of chocolate).

Who would have thought, fast forward a decade and a half later, kids would each own a personal computer right in their own room, with unlimited source of porns, games and friends online? And as if that’s not enough, they even have a fancy cellphone to go with them (which, is powerful enough to host the ‘Double Dragon’ game!), and enough pocket money to afford a late afternoon snack at some expensive family restaurant with their buddies… Goddamn.

That makes me think a bit, how would I feel if I were to be showered with all those goodies like the contemporary kids in the 21st century? For now, I’m gonna imagine myself as a very happy boy with all these gadgets to keep me entertained. But in reality, I know I’m not going to be as happy as I have imagined. That’s because I know, when one has the riches around him, he’s not going to enjoy the wealth. Any goodness is best enjoyed if it is scarce and hard earned…

But right now, I’m worried about my own kid. I dread of having to spend money for her to have
1) a personal computer with unlimited source of porn, games and friends online
2) a fancy cellphone powerful enough to host ‘Double Dragon’
3) enough pocket money to afford a late afternoon snack at Nandos

Perhaps I should just toss her a buck and ask her to figure everything out herself.

*excuse me for the looking-back-the-old-days reflections. I’m right now at the juncture of advancing to an advanced stage of my life… such behavior is kinda expected… according to experts. So, bear with me until I reach 40, which then, I’m gonna step into middle age crisis and you’ll get to read something different then. And oh, you people may call me uncle if you want, I just don’t give a flying fuck anymore.

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | 20 Comments