This happened a couple weeks ago. (Or was it the week before? Nevermind). Charles and I went to pay Ayamas a visit. That poor guy’s apartment got burglarized a week earlier, and Charles was to bring him some state-of-the-art locks for him to beef up his home security. But at the time we arrived, Ayamas told us that he had to go out to attend a neigbourhood community meeting or something, and we had to hang out all by ourselves inside his pad until he returns.

And hang out we did. We chatted, fiddled with his magazines, and even helped ourselves with his beers… you know, just to kill some time until he returns. A scant moment through the waiting, the beer got through my kidney filters and made its way to my bladder. I felt a wee tad of urge, wasn’t a critical one, but I decided to answer the call anyway… since I’ve got nothing to do there. So I set out to his toilet to contribute something to the nature.

As I was about to pee, I thought of sparing myself some decency by closing the door and locked it. Like, it sure wouldn’t be nice to relieve myself at somebody’s house flailing my dick around without closing the toilet door. What if a shapeshifter relative of his were to suddenly barge into the toilet for emergency and collide into me? It’ll be a disaster. I can imagine myself lying unconscious on the floor with pee still gushing out of my dick, while a middle aged rhino had her head wedged in between my ass with shit all over the floor. Mannnnn…
With the door locked, I can be sure that I was fended off from such embarassing situation.

Anyway, after I did my thing, I unlocked the door and tried to push it open… nothing happened. Well, I thought maybe I didn’t unlock it properly, so I slid the lock button again and pushed the door - same result. Alright, maybe I was careless - I thought, I might had LOCKED the door instead of unlocking it, so I tried the other position of the lock button and pushed, to no avail. I repeatedly flipped the lock button and resorted to shake the damn door, but it just wouldn’t budge. Then it dawned on me that the unthinkable had happened - I WAS TRAPPED INSIDE AYAMAS’ FUCKING TOILET!

Just as I was about to set myself into the panic mode and scream, suddenly, my survivor instinct kicked in and got reminded of the little rectangular buzz box inside my pocket - my cellphone! No I didn’t call the fire brigade, but Charles’ number instead. It got through… but he didn’t answer his phone. He thought that I might have accidentally dialed his number, since it would be ridiculous for me to call him when we’re inside the same house. So, he kinda yelled out loud from the living room - “Hey, you calling my number?” and walked towards the cursed toilet and found out about the whole blooper.

As expected, that easily amused jackass had a good laugh at me before he undertook the rescue mission. (friends…) It took us 5 minutes worth of banging and prying, before we managed to loosen the jammed latch off the door frame… and finally got me out to see the light again, all in one piece. Thank god. Freedom couldn’t have smelt any better (literally).

We never spoke of that incident after that day.

Remember those hideous fengshui paraphernalias inside my home? Well, they’re becoming less conspicuous now. Thanks to Regine, for she has been working on a project to give our home a … FENGSHUI MAKEOVER! Here’s some of her works. Appreciate it, people. It’s art.

These are auspicious fabrics woven from the pubic wools of 99 virgin snow yaks, hung at the weakest spot of our apartment to block the negative chi blown over from Indonesia by invisible cosmic winds…

These are no ordinary clothes hangers. These clothes hangers, have been blessed by 500 Tibetian monks at a clandestine ceremony, believed to be able to ward off evil spirits and reduce electrical overstress defects on electronic components. That’s why they’re all over my dining table, the very same table I uses everyday to surf the internet and shits.

Holy elixirs of immortality and folded snow yak fabrics - strategically placed on the coffee table in the living room to absorb positive chi at the strongest intergalactic zodiac node in the 5th dimensional grid of our location. (and also reduce the radiation from the television)

The magic tree of tranquility. Embellished with paper lanterns & ancient meteorite orbs from the hanging temple of Toys’R'Us.

That’s the green caterpillar of the holy crib of Mufasa. Lying beside it, is the rag doll replica of the goddess of milk pukes and green shits. On the armrest, is a bottle of holy water to ward off evil spirits. And that white thing is just a diaper for that waving cat of fortune…. wait a minute… sorry, that’s Regine. Ahaks…

Gawddd… I’ve never felt so great before all these makeovers! **squealll!!**

The lab phone rang, and I answered it.

dolt: “Hello is this Milkboy?”

Me: “No. This is Michael.”

dolt: “Oh, may I speak to Milkboy please?”

Me: “I’m sorry he’s not in”

dolt: “Do you have his cellphone then?”

Me: “No. His cellphone is with him all the time. Most likely, inside his pocket”

dolt: [pauses for a couple seconds] “Ahahahks! Ok ok, thank you”

Me: [hangs up]

Whath the fucketh is wrongeth with these peopleth??

This is my 1000th published entry. (Exact post count = 1192. 188 entries had either been deleted or taken down due to complaints from readers, violation of workplace etiquette, conflict of interests, etc, 4 entries are hidden)

Not sure if this is something that I should be proud of, but in a way, it’s telling me that I have been spending wayyy too much time sitting in front of the computer punching keys and had been as productive as a retarded paraplegic sloth.

And these wasted time, hundreds fucketh of hours of it, could have been used to do something better, like going to the gym to chisel up my increasingly doughy physique… or perhaps to volunteer myself for community services (eg. free breast examination for college students? Yeah…). But sadly… nevermind.

Anyway, I just would like to have a word of thanks to all of you who have been - as productive as a retarded paraplegic sloth - regularly visiting this site and read the craps that I had churned over these 39 months. Without you, I’m sure I would be just another beefcake in a gym providing pro-bono tits kneading services to college students. -_-

PS: Say, if you guys could tell me how did you first discover my blog, I’d want to be grateful to those who had pimped my site by putting them in my thoughts and links page. Thank you.

I was standing in front of a food counter at the cafeteria, waiting for my bowl of tomyam noodle (to be prepared). It was the only counter there that morning. And in front of the counter, hung a crudely made sign, “TOMYAM MEE - RM 2.00″ (which literally translates to “Tomyam noodle - 2 friggin bucks”)

A few blinks later, in came this lanky technician… let’s call him Ralph. Ralph walked over to where I was standing and greeted.

Ralph : “Hi Michael.”

Me : “Hi Ralph.”

He paused for a moment, then turned to look at my bowl of tomyam noodle, which was still being prepared by the shapeshifter kitchen helper, then turned back to me and said

Ralph : “So, you’re getting yourself a bowl of tomyam noodle?”

I briefly glanced at the “TOMYAM MEE - RM 2.00″ sign, before replying him

Me : “Yeah, I guess I am.” [look at sign again]

He paused for a moment, then turned to look at my bowl of tomyam noodle, then turned back to me, and said

Ralph : “Tomyams can be very hot and spicy, do you know that?”

I paused for a moment, then turned to look at my hot and spicy bowl of tomyam noodle, then responded

Me : “Oh, ok. Thanks for telling.” [nods repeatedly...]

He then walked off, probably relishing the moment of what it must have felt like to be a smart person. Educated a degenerate engineer like me about culinary delights… how about that? Had he not told me that tomyams are hot and spicy, I probably would have still thought that it tasted like tiramisu… Goddamn!