Archive for July, 2006

July 19, 2006

bitter memories : the great escape (part II)

[continue from here]

The long walk home with PukeMachine. We skipped school to avoid the scheduled disciplinary trial for the calculator heist I never committed. It was a day of dread that was somehow turned into an exciting adventure… thanks to the ingenuity of yours truly.

We must had walked for an hour or more. We were both thirsty and perspiring profusely from the thick sweltering humid plod alongside the burning tarmac. It all started to look like a big mistake then. Like, what’s a whip of a cane or two compared to this? Man, does this worth the blisters that I’m gonna get from all these walkings? – I thought. The journey gradually developed into a quiet business as we lugged along our 9 year old asses in a marathon of desperation to cheat fate.

Halfway through our journey, we came across a creek that ran through my school bus’ route home (we were following that route to go home). Of all my kid life inside that school bus, I had always wanted to swim inside the creek for a long time, but never got the chance. And that day, I spotted the opportunity to do it, and without thinking much, I jumped into the creek. I didn’t bother about my uniform. Just jumped. I was soaked from head to toe in that yellowish murky water, and continued to swim about inside it, totally ignoring PukeMachine who was totally stunned with what I just did.

Not long after that, he joined in. I was too busy enjoying myself, and I didn’t quite notice him soaking himself into the water. Or did he? I don’t remember. But he was around alright. Probably just sloshing the surface of the creek with his doughy feet, but that was not important to me. The most important thing for me that day, was to have lots of fun, to forget all about the troubles at school.

After dicking some dogs for a while, we moved on. We still had a long way to go after that creek pitstop. Another 3 – 4 clicks. It took us another hour and a half to reach my final destination (PukeMachine’s half journey stop) – my home. Didn’t really feel like an hour and a half, it felt like forever. I had blisters on my feet that day (from the wet creek water) and I smelled like an eel with hygiene problem.

The sight of my apartment foyer couldn’t have been sweeter. I did not even have the capacity to think about PukeMachine, for I was too exhausted to be thankful for his company. So I didn’t plan to say much. Just before I slither myself up to my apartment, I turned around to bid my partner-in-crime a wave of farewell, and hoofed the final few meters to eternal bliss.

But I didn’t make it for more than 10 feet, for I was startled by a loud shriek from behind me. More or less sounded like a fowl who learned that it was about to go through an ancient throat slitting ritual. “Wheeeekkkk!!!! Wheeeekk!!!!”. It was unmistakenly PukeMachine’s voice. He was in trouble. I frantically turned around to check him out, and saw him with an Oh-My-Fucking-God look and acting all alarmed like he had lost his mind.

I stormed over.
[to be continued here]

michaelooi  | escapades  | Comments Off


If I were to play for Brazil, what would my name be?

And I would not headbutt when I’m angry. I’m gonna plant my boots on the person’s face instead.

click here to get your own Brazillian jersey

michaelooi  | nonsense  | Comments Off
July 18, 2006

bitter memories : the great escape (part I)

*I’ve been too free at work as of late, expect more long entries*

If PukeMachine were to clone himself over and over, he’d need to replicate himself an entire population of India to collaboratively reach the IQ that of a lab rat. No shit.

That calculator incident had put our brotherhood into the state of quandary. Like, I’m going be in a real deep shit tomorrow, how am I going to tell my mom about it? I was innocent enough. I didn’t do it. It was that kleptomaniac freak PukeMachine that got me into this. But that was not important then anymore, as I knew my mom would kill me irregardless of the truth being explained, or not.

Being a smarter person I was, I quickly came up with a backup plan, and suggested it to my panic stricken partner-in-crime (who was about to cry like he’s just lost a kidney) that we should bail school the next day and get out of this. That way, we won’t have to get our parents to meet up with the teacher, and hopefully with all the busy schedules and workload, she would forget all about it the day after that. (Trust me, it sounded very much more plausible back then). It was a brilliant idea.

Now, some of you might be wondering, why should I help PukeMachine with that, after all he had done? Well, I had to. Why? Here’s why

a) If he was to bring his parents to school, there would be a slimmer chance for that teacher to forget about the whole incident, and she would have realized that I am missing from her class.
b) I already had a very ill reputation with PukeMachine’s mom. It would be a very BAD idea to let her know that I was involved in this. It will only aggravate the situation if she somehow relates that underwear incident to my school teacher.
c) When I’m missing, it’ll be that much easier for PukeMachine to twist the fact and frame me stupid. It will be very UNWISE to leave such a volatile character alone by himself.

So, I had to take him with me. I had to make him skip school on that day. Or banish him from existence forever, whichever fitted. I had no choice.

And because he was a guy with not much of a thinking aptitude, it didn’t take him longer than a second to agree with my plan, and we’re at it. That was how my first truant was conceived. It was a choice made out of desperation. For us 9 year olds then, saving our skin is always more important than anything else.

The next day, we met early at the school entrance, and from there, we walked. A lot. We had to walk because

a) We didn’t have much money with us to take a bus home
b) We didn’t fucking know how to take a bus home (we’re only 9, we’re supposed to be stupid and stuff)

Destination: My home. That was 8 kilometers (clicks) away. PukeMachine volunteered to walk me back to my place first, then he would walk back to his own place, which was another give or take, 6 clicks away (he must had astoundingly walked 14 clicks altogether that day, un-fucking-believable). I’m not sure if he did that out of compunction of his misdeeds, or was he just plain fucking stupid… but I didn’t object his intention. I could use somebody to walk me home anytime, no shit – like maybe, I might get ambushed by some stray dogs, and I could use him to cushion off the attacks… I was smart.

And so we walked and talked, leaving behind our baggage of troubles at school…
[to be continued here]

michaelooi  | escapades  | Comments Off
July 17, 2006

bitter memories : the calculator incident

*too much time at hands again today, long entry, deal with it*

PukeMachine. The guy who couldn’t tell the difference between his mom and a bunch of 8 year old whipper snappers. My best childhood friend evarrr. If his stupidity is to be likened as a volume of water, he’d have flooded the whole planet many times over.

It was circa 1986, when PukeMachine suddenly came to me with a wry grin.

“What’s up, PukeMachine?” (yeah, we 9 year olds used to speak all so weird like that)

Out from the pocket of his undersized school shorts, he produced before me a worn out looking piece of calculator. Worn out, and dirty. One could tell from the first glance of it, that it had seen the time of its electronic glory. It was covered with enough grime and filth to grow a potato plant out of it.

“Wow, a calculator.”

I wasn’t that thrilled really. My mom used to own a metallic calculator which was a few gazillion times cooler than that piece of junk that came out of PukeMachine’s pocket. It was so cool, that my mom had to lock it inside her private drawer so that I wouldn’t drool at it.

“It’s Maqbul’s calculator. I stole it from him.”

Maqbul was one of our classmates. He was always the second last in class and his mental capacity was very close to that ‘retard’ red line. That day, he brought in a calculator to school to show it off to the rest of his dim witted buddies, and PukeMachine stole that calculator.

“What?? Why did you do that, PukeMachine?”

“I couldn’t stand that smug Maqbul, so I stole his stupid calculator”

From that moment on, I already knew that it was a mistake. It was dumb enough to steal inside your classroom, what more a worthless piece of shit from a loser like Maqbul. If it were to be me handling the situation, I would have opted to destroy that calculator (or Maqbul himself) rather than stealing it and confine myself dangerously inside the class. (you steal something, you peel off. You don’t just stay static waiting to get caught, get what I mean?) Needless to say, that calculator was generations ahead smarter than PukeMachine.

But it was already too late for any reprehension, for Maqbul had already realized that his calculator was missing, and quickly rose up from his seat to give a quick yelp. He made such a big commotion out of it, that PukeMachine and I got panic in the middle of our discussion, and had to immediately cast that calculator into a schoolbag nearby. And that was the second mistake I spotted on that day – it was my fucking schoolbag.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to even remove that evidence from my bag, because by a fragment of a second later, the class teacher had already instructed everyone to go back to their seats and was calling for a spot check to determine who was the mean thief that stole Maqbul’s fucking calculator.

The rest of you here can make your own guess what happened next. Fast forward a few moments later, I was made to stand in front of the class facing the rest of the students, to explain why did I commit the crime. Because I didn’t really do it, I decided just to tell the truth instead, and conveniently pointed out PukeMachine as the main culprit behind the whole act.

Well, some of you might think lowly of me to drag PukeMachine along into the quagmire … but what do I care, suit yourself. There’s a big difference between being stupid and righteous to your friends… and I wasn’t about to be stupid just to be righteous, so, fuck it. I got him square in the face. Hey, that’s what friends are for, right? To share the perils and pain together…

And that was exactly what I wanted to happen. If I’d be getting a disciplinary action out of this, he had to have the same share… I just didn’t fucking care. In fact, he should have counted his blessing that

a) I didn’t break his arms for getting me into HIS troubles
b) I didn’t break his legs for getting me into HIS troubles
c) I didn’t attempt to kill him for getting me into HIS troubles

We were made to invite our parents to school the next day… which, would be a story for another day.
[to be continued here]

michaelooi  | escapades  | Comments Off
July 14, 2006

work memo again

I received this work memo in my mailbox today:

To : All [Company X] staff
From : The Facilities Manager

Please be reminded that there are some people who cannot tolerate the smell of durians. They will fall sick from the smell. As such, take note that durians are not allowed to be in the office.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

Best regards,
The Facilities Manager

Wow, what an apt reminder. It must not have occurred to me that there are sick people people who are allergic to the durian odor. Well, I wonder if they would ban Banglas from roaming around the office too – because I definitely don’t feel very well with their strong armpit odor around… (but who’s gonna wash our freaking toilets?? I’ll let those managers worry about that…)

oh and those Green Tea fragrances as well…
and unwashed socks…
and cheap hairsprays…
coconut oil…
Code 10 with sweat…
mouldy clits…

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