Man I so fucking hate

- people who make shitloads of comments and noises when they do something. It’s annoying. I knew they had to do it deliberately to broadcast to the entire world that they’re doing something, as opposed to what they usually do - shirking. I have a few technicians who does that all the time. That’s why I fucking hate them. They’re scumbags who never gets to become an engineer that squawks around to seek for attention. Ptuiiiiii!!!

- people who ask me to take care of my wife when she’s ill. I wonder what the fuck were they thinking. Oh are they so smarter than I am, that they think I would need them to teach me how to take care of my ill wife? Like I couldn’t figure out the whole thing by myself? Like, oh my wife’s gonna so fucking die if it’s not for their duly altruistic advice? Ridiculous! Hate themmm!!

- old women who dress up like they’re 18. Look, if you’re old, dilapidated, fugly and has enough corrugated skins to spread the area of a soccer field, would you still think that by dressing up like your teenage grandkid would reverse back all those effects, like, magically? Let me spoil your day here today - HELL FUCK NO. When you’re old, aim for respect instead. Dress like your age. YOU KNOW you’ve outlived your youthfullness. Just accept the fact & get in touch with reality. Those glitzy clothes are not meant for old wrinkly piece of dehydrated cooters like you.

- people who’s got nothing better to say but has got to say it. Just shut the fuck up. I don’t understand, like if they want to be friendly, they could have just smiled, or pay me some cash (or flash me their tits, if they’re a hot chick, of course). But no, they’ve got to ask something just for the sake of asking. I won’t mind if it’s interesting conversation, but these fucktards would ask inept stuffs like “going home to babysit your daughter?” when they see me leave the office. Think about it, if I’m suppose to babysit my daughter, why the fuck am I at the office in the first place? Shouldn’t I be at home taking care of her?? People with the intelligence of their own shits… we don’t need them.

- people that get physical when they converse with me. Like a constant repetitive nudge on my hand/shoulder each time they got excited over something in a conversation. That’s just annoying. Here’s an example
*nudge* “Oh man, I’ve got to tell you this Michael” *nudge*
“I saw the BIGGGGESTTTT tits at the club that day *nudge* … and you know what?” *nudge*
“She’s a guy” *2 x nudge + a slap + horse laugh*
What was those nudges for? Prodding for my attention? Can’t you see that I’m already listening?? Are you stupid or something?? (even if I’m not listening to you, that’ll be because I’m not interested in whatever you’re talking about, and you should probably just shut the fuck up already.)

- people that enter my (our) bedroom uninvited. Yes, unless I (we) consented you to do so, you have absolutely no business inside our bedroom. It’s rude to go into somebody’s bedroom without permission. I don’t like it, my wife won’t like it either. It is our private sanctuary. We have stuffs lying around inside there that we do not want our guests to see. Such as cash, jewelleries that we’ve pilfered from our wedding, pubic hairs that we’ve shed, whatever. Just stay the fuck out. You’re NOT welcomed in there.

I’ll share more some other day…

There, it happened again. Another case of mistaken identity. Somebody wrongly sent me another email, again.

This time, it was from a lady who also hails from Company X. A quick glance through her mail threads, I manage to make out that she’s helping her friend, Lady P (name modified to preserve her like a pickle), to contact a law firm for her legal proceedings on a purchase of an apartment unit (or something like that). And somewhere in the middle of the mail exchange, Lady P copied her father into the discussion, who goes by the name ‘Michael Ooi’ (sounds familiar, eh?).

It was all fine until that good samaritan lady accidentally replied to another ‘Michael Ooi’ in Company X corporate directory, which is yours truly the magnificent…

I replied them back of course, since daddy has only enough fatherly love for 1 baby girl at the moment. Here’s my reply to them:

—–Original Message—–
Ermm, girls, as far as I can remember,

Perhaps, you may want to verify your actual dad’s email address again and copy him in case he ever gets jealous of all the attention I’m getting… (unless, if you plan to surprise me with a brand new car as father’s day gift, which I’ll have no qualms accepting it…)

Michael Ooi
Failure Analysis Engineer - [Company X]
Direct Line (office): [phone number]
Direct Line (lab) : [phone number]
Direct Fax: [fax number]
*”Mankind has always dreamed of destroying the sun” — Mr. Burns*
———-

I think the name ‘Michael’ is too a common name for a wonderful guy like me. Maybe I should change my name to a more unique one. Like those farts from China… eg. Alligator, Chimpanzee, Rolex, Viagra, Astroglide, etc.

Why I think a cow would make a better boss… than my boss:

- The company wouldn’t have to pay a single dough for the same amount of stupidity.

- I will not lose my job if I punch a cow.

- A cow can be cute from an angle. My boss’ a cheap motherfucker that has an appeal of a toad with leprosy, in every possible angle.

- A cow produces milk and butter. My boss produces nothing but shits for everyone else unfortunate enough to clean up.

- A cow is all happy with just enough pastures. My boss is never happy with anything at all.

- My boss drives a car and plays a part of a big puzzle in polluting the environment. A cow walks.

- My boss put all sorts of dicks into his mouth to get things done. A cow is and always will be, a vegetarian.

- I can always trust a cow (they’re never interested in politics), but I can never trust my boss.

- My boss’ blind. A cow is only colour blind.

- If I ever got pissed and slaughter a cow, I’d get antioxidant-rich red meat out of it. If I slaughter my boss, I’d be a greaseball inside a jail cell.

Wouldn’t it be great if there’s indeed such thing as ‘get out of jail card’? I’m gonna so fucking use it to commit a homicide. On who, you make your guess…

related entry.

I’m sure almost all of you working class people have encountered dopes before. You know dopes? People that makes our life difficult? People that induces stroke amongst their co-workers with sheer stupidity? It is them I’m talking about.

So what the fuck are they doing here? How did they end up at my workplace, Company X? Or rather, at YOUR workplace? The hiring system. It is all wrong. All of them. Somehow, after advancing so many millenniums of civilization, we human failed to realize the fundamentals of natural selection, and ultimately, led ourselves towards mental decadence.

Now, you may be wondering what’s wrong here? Ask yourself, what do we people normally do prior hiring a person? Conduct an interview. I tell you, interviews are fucked up. Do you really think those stupid fuck interviews are really an efficient way to determine if a person’s the right candidate for any particular job? Fuck no. That’s because it’s simply impossible for one to be able to filter out a dope from merely a couple hours’ worth of conversation. To tell apart a retard, maybe… but definitely not a dope.

A dope, as stupid as he can be, will definitely try to look and sound at his best for an interview (a blatant act of deception). Logic tells me, that if you want to know the ability of a person, you don’t actually ask the person himself if he’s good. The person won’t admit that he’s a dope. He would be a retard if he does that. You don’t want a retard to work for you anyway. That’s why I said it’s all wrong. Conducting an interview for a job vacancy is defying logic. It’s like giving a child the chance to cheat in an examination. Or asking to be deceived… only to discover the hard way later that the person you interviewed is by no means who he’s supposed to be. It happens all the fucking time.

A good example would be Panda, if you can remember her… The bright straight A scorer. Good academic background. Very promising during the interview. But when she started work, only then my friend Wilson realized that she basically don’t even have the ability to tell apart a screwdriver versus a hockey stick… (alright, I may have exaggerated a bit far off…). By then, it’s already too late to do anything about it, but to painstakingly go through a tedious employee removal process… a waste of time and resources.

So why do we still use this same oldskool method to induct more dopes into our lives? I don’t know. Maybe there has been too much dopes around that they took over the entire rein of management, and are attempting to steer mankind backwards to their pre-civilized era. Like, if there’s anyone in the management who’s not a dope, they could’ve realized that already… (a dope won’t think a fellow dope’s a dope, if you get me…). Or maybe we’re all dopes and we don’t even know it… (except me of course, to be able to figure out all these…)

But whatever the reason is, it doesn’t matter now. What we can do now, is to do things the right way. Michael’s Smart people’s way. Just ditch the interview idea. Instead of interviews, we make a bunch of potential job candidates work for a period of time (without wage) and let the existing subordinates review their performances. The one with the highest performance review, gets the job. (in case you’re wondering, yes, it’s almost like the concept of that reality show… The Apprentice… though i never really watched it). And no, that’s not even a probational period… since there’s no contract signed or wages paid. If the person’s slow, or in any way, failed to perform within expectation, he/she can just be escorted out without having to worry about violating any employment contract. Awesome, isn’t it? Natural selection concept. That’s how crocodiles ruled the Nile till this day…

In the meanwhile, I think I’ll continue to mope and shirk around the office… and then hope that one day, I’ll be able to get around these dopes, take over their management posts and do all the changes I currently have in mind… (first thing to implement, sack the roti canai cook…). I’m very optimistic about it, wish me luck.

I’m sure you guys know what’s an otak-otak. In case you don’t, here’s something for you to perk up your knowledge:

Otak-otak is a fish cake from Malaysia and Singapore. In Singapore, it is more commonly known as otah or otak. The southern Malaysian town of Muar is particularly famous for it. It can also be found in Indonesia, especially in Sulawesi.

It can be eaten as a snack or with bread or rice as part of a meal.

Composition
Otak-otak is made by mixing fish paste (usually mackerel) with a mixture of spices including chillies, garlic, shallots, turmeric, lemon grass and coconut milk. The mixture is then wrapped in a leaf(usually a banana leaf) that has been softened by steaming, then grilled or steamed.

Regional varieties
There are different forms of otak-otak originating from different regions. Nonya otak-otak, with Peranakan origins, from the northern Malaysian state of Penang, is steamed as a cake in pandan leaf. However, otak-otak from the south of Malaysia and from Singapore is wrapped up as a thin slice using banana or coconut leaf and grilled over a charcoal fire (although the Singaporean version is often grilled in pandan leaf). As a result, it ends up reddish-orange, drier and with a more distinct smoky fish aroma. Other varieties of otak-otak do exist, however, the most common of which is a non-spicy, white-coloured version.

Although otak-otak is traditionally made with fish meat, modern versions of otah often utilize crab or prawn meat.

There is also a dish called pais ikan which is made of fish paste cooked in banana leaf, and is sometimes called otak-otak.

Source: Wikipedia

Regine made us some otak-otak for supper yesterday. It was ingeniously wrapped with a brand new diaper (instead of leaves) to ensure that the distinct taste was locked in for ultimate enjoyment.

Regine: “Uwahhhhhh! Wahhh! Uwahhh!”
[translation: "I made you guys some otak-otak. Now feed me milk."]

I have a feeling that she’s going to be a great cook when she grow up.