The Company X cafeteria caterer has this odd way of charging its patron extra for mixed spreads of waffle pancakes. For example, if it’s one half butter spread with second half flavored spread (peanut butter, jam, honey, etc), it’ll be only RM1.50. But if both halves are with flavored spreads, an extra 30 cents will be charged, ergo RM1.80.

The cashier is located a distance away from the waffle counter, so in order to make the customized charging process work, Company X patrons are required to ‘declare’ their waffles at the cashier like it’s a fucking taxable commodity on each payout.

I was doing that yesterday, and following conversation transpired between myself and the cashier, who is a Malay lass in her fluorescent headscarf…

Me: “One waffle, with peanut butter and butter.”

Cashier: “I beg your pardon?”

Me: “One waffle, with peanut butter and butter.”

Cashier: “So you got 2 waffles there?”

Me: “No, I said ONE waffle, with one half peanut butter and the other half butter.”

Cashier: “Peanut butter?”

Me: “You have never heard of peanut butter before? Take a look at this then.” [shows her my waffle]

Cashier: [peeks into the brown paper bag] “Ooooohhhh, itu peanut.”

Me: “No, that is not a peanut if you can’t tell. That is called ‘peanut butter’. Spread made from peanuts.”

Cashier: “Ok ok.”

I’m surprised that there are people out there who has never heard of ‘peanut butter’ before. I wonder if she actually knows what a cheebye is. If she doesn’t, well then, I wouldn’t mind to point her to look into a mirror - itu lah, cheebye yang paling besar di dunia. Ada mata dan hidung pulak tu.

what is it about?
A complete footage from a camcorder, featuring a catastrophic event of a big fucking monster rampaging through the streets of New York (right, again), leaving behind death and destruction.

the plot?
Not much of a plot really. A lovesick and heartbroken guy (the protagonist) is evacuating the city from a monster attack, when he receives a phone call from his dying (but hot) girlfriend. Feeling upset about his seriously injured girlfriend in distress, he decides to be stupid and goes to her rescue out of compunction, along with a few of his friends… adventure ensues.

likes
- no bullshit introduction about the monster etc. The thing just shows up uninvited at the city, and starts wreaking havoc like he has just lost a hefty football bet. Just straight to the point.
- the effects are very much better than Godzilla’s / King Kong’s. Demolition and destruction of the building blocks are like what we saw happened to WTC during 9/11. The gore factor is equally amazing.
- the single perspective of the whole flick is quite neat, which lets the audience follow the storyline linearly, saving the need to switch plots, reducing the complexity. (read: it’s unintelligent and good in it’s own way)
- the monster looks mean and badass enough to my liking, and I also have to say that it reminded me a lot of Deathclaws in the popular RPG Fallout… (Deathclaws are fucking awesome)

dislikes
- the shaky camcorder view sucks. It’s like watching “Cops” - makes me dizzy. They could have done it with a fixed cam with the same single perspective story telling (eg: “Children of Men”).
- lack of screen time for the monster. If you’re armed with a camcorder and there’s this big monster tearing down the whole city apart (and for some strange reason, you’re not thinking about getting the fuck out of there), would you be shooting you and your buddies running around like dorks? I don’t know about you people but, I’d be pointing my camera at the fucking monster - AS MUCH AS I CAN!
- the idea of the monster being invincible is ridiculous. They could have made him bleed and stuff, it would have been way cooler.

spoilers
Everyone fucking dies in the end.

rating
Despite being a head spinning catalyst and somewhat of a gyp for not screening enough monster scene, it is still pretty good stuff to me. 7/10.

Now, how many of you ever had the chance to express your negative opinions about housewives and their bad taste in fashion, to a bunch of housewives? I had the rare opportunity yesterday.

The historical event took place at Company X cafeteria when I was having my breakfast with a couple of these shapeshifted housewives. They were sharing opinions about how important it is for an aged woman to look the best for her age. You know, stuff about wearing revealing clothes, dying their hair shit-brown, etc.

Initially, I do not intend to participate in their discussion, because I am not into the idea of old people trying to look young by having excessive makeovers and shit. I knew if I say something, I am going to strike some nerves there and get into trouble. But then, I couldn’t help it after a while. I figured I had to say something - for the sake of mankind - to change the paradigm that has wrongfully taken residence inside their porous brains.

I told them, it is definitely not OK for old women to over-indulge themselves with cosmetic makeovers and vogue fashion. There is only so much one can hide, and after that, it’s going to look just more and more ridiculous and revolting. It’s like adding sugar to your dessert. The right amount of it, will be pleasant. Too much of it, you’d get stroke and high blood pressure (or whatever). See my point? But sadly, not many aging women realize that. They see makeovers and vogue fashion as a huge fountain of youth - the more you slap them on, the better looking you are. That’s just fucking tragic, man.

I’m sure many of you have seen old shapeshifted housewives trying to dress-to-kill. Shapeshifters with hump wearing barebacks, shapeshifters with dimpled cellulites wearing miniskirts, spandex pants, etc. It makes you wonder, what the fuck is wrong with them. I once saw a woman who was way beyond her menopausal age wearing a low cut blouse grandiosely revealing her canyon-wide wrinkled cleavage to the world. Like, can’t she tell? That her rack is… is… is… as saggy… and wrinkled… as a blob of wet plastic bag? Things that I don’t understand.

I know some of you are probably going to chide me that this is about a woman feeling good about her own body and having shitfucks of self confidence that I probably won’t understand in this lifetime. You know, the usual bullshit. But I was just being honest about what is not pleasant to my eyes. Nobody’s stopping them from having self confidence. This is not about having self confidence. This is about how not to be an eyesore and even more, a subject of ridicule. Why can’t they be comfortable with how they naturally look? In my opinion, women with age should not aim at how they look, they should aim at how they carry their personality. When you’re 60 wearing a mini-fucking-skirt or a spandex pants showing off your droopy cameltoes, people just won’t give you any respect. They pay you respect (with flowers and joss paper, that is…)

I think got my opinion across… because none of them castigated me of what I said. Before I peel off, I gave them this final crazy ass suggestion about doing a self check before hitting the streets with their makeovers:

“If you ladies really want to find out if you have really overdid your makeover or overdressed, just take a stroll past the front gate of any of your dog rearing neighbors. If your neighbor’s dog barks like batshit crazy when it sees you, that means whatever you’re wearing or have on your face, are going to agitate some animals and it is also likely going to have negative effects on us humans as well. That’s the time when you should seriously consider to tone it down.”

This, is gonna change the world.

Our work group was recently criticized by a visiting gweilo VIP, that our lab looked like a pig sty more than a proper workplace. The boss wanted us to do something about it.

Because I am the most awesome amongst the lot, I was put in charge to overlook the image expiation effort by the boss. Without delay, I managed to get the whole 5s shebang started last Friday with a kickoff brainstorming event and got some actions logged. By Monday, everything started to look really splendid, except for our subsidiary smaller lab under Mojo Jojo’s charge… who was absent during our first pig sty rehabilitation day. Yesterday morning, I gave him a lengthy briefing to get that simian delinquent up to pace with all the new ground rules and whatnots, and he started to work on it right away.

But came afternoon, I saw Mojo Jojo loitering around the lab doing idle chats and scratching his balls… and before long, he ambled over to tell me something…

Mojo Jojo: “Michael, my boss wants me to stop all the lab cleaning chores you asked me to do and ordered me to clear off my outstanding work first… So, I’ll have to delay the chores for a later time”

Me: “Whatever. Just remember to do it once you’re free of your obligations.”

Mojo Jojo: “I sure will, but it may be some time before that happens though… I’ve got lots of stuff to do”

Me: “No shit sherlock, I can see that you’re so busy loafing and chatting around. Just like what you’re doing now, you could have used the time to do some real work instead of talking to me…”

Mojo Jojo: “Oh man, I was just being nice… by talking to you”

Me: “Well, maybe you don’t know this but, I actually don’t really fancy talking to you… so why don’t you save the effort, shut the fuck up and go do some work instead?”

Mojo Jojo: “Alright, alright… you don’t have to be so mean…”

You know, it’s ironic how some people keep whining about their sorry state of being overworked, underachieved, bla bla blaa… while they could have, in fact, make full use of the time they waste dicking around doing redundant stuff…

Last I checked post 24 hours later, Mojo Jojo was still surfing some news site and his area was pretty much left untouched. What a hopeless piece of fucking shit.

I don’t know if this is just me but, I find myself having a lot of troubles remembering female Chinese names. For some strange reasons, female Chinese names don’t seem to be able to stick inside my memory at all. They’re like, malicious worm programs that get filtered out by my innate antivirus system or something. This was especially frustrating for my wife Emily, as I keep forgetting her friends’ names, which can occasionally be quite embarrassing, but most of the time, just difficult for her to kibbitz about somebody to me (which she thought would be a waste of effort if I don’t really know who she was talking about…)

But then being a reasonable person that she is, she understands my problems, and she knows that being a bitch about it won’t help either. So we kinda developed this tacit solution for my problem over the years in our relationship. I, will try my best to remember her friends with Chinese names, and she on the other hand, will help me remembering them. Take special note on the phrase - ‘remember her friends with Chinese names‘. It’s completely different from ‘remember her friends’ Chinese names‘. If you don’t get it, here’s a scenario to help you out:

Emily introduces me to her female ex-colleague, Xiao Huey, for the first time. I told Emily that Xiao Huey looks like an oversized hamster and went on to forget her name the next minute. Fast forward 1 year later, Emily relates a story about Xiao Huey to me,

Emily: “Dear, do you remember my ex-colleague Xiao Huey?”

Me: “No I don’t.”

Emily: “The girl that you said looked like a giant hamster?”

Me: “Oh… her! Yes, what about her?”

Emily: [yakety yak]

The scenario above was a true event that actually occurred, though the name ‘Xiao Huey’ was fictional (because I don’t fucking remember her friend’s name)

But it is a beautiful workaround, ain’t it?
a) I get to retain my personality… and at the same time,
b) I also get to express what I feel about my wife’s friends without qualms,
c) my wife gets to do her gossip shit without any technical setback…

You see when a woman gets to do her gossip shit regularly, she’d get her ample dose of de-stressing and that in turn, translates to more bliss for the boyfriend/husband. It’s a win-win situation (well, more like ‘not to lose too much’ for the guy, actually…)

This is one of the many tricks that you can adopt to make a relationship a less stressful affair.

So, if you’re a forgetful (or eccentric, if that’s what you want to call me, I don’t really give a crap) person like I am, this can be a solution for you - remember their distinctive features instead of names, you know, like… the chick with a huge motherfucking nose, lopsided droopy eyes, reminded you of incredible hulk, etc. If the trick works for me, and there should not be any reason why it cannot work for you. All you need to do, is to convince your other half… (and thence, nobody should ever complain that you didn’t do no shit for the relationship…)