Archive for 2010

October 21, 2010

comprehension fail

I received a phone call from an unknown number when I was in a meeting. I rejected the call with a text message:

In a meeting, who is this?

Guess what did the guy answer?

I would like to ask about housing loan.

Get this straight, I asked the guy who he is, and he answered me he wanted to ask me about ‘housing loan’. So I tried again with another text, this time, with a more direct message (coincidentally, I just had some mortgage stuff going on, and feared that the caller might be from the bank),

Who are you? Do I know you?

Again, the guy answered my text with something irrelevant

Is mr tan xxx xxxxx introduce u to me!coz i going to buy new house thus i want to know ur Hong Leong BLR rate

I wanted to answer him that the Hong Leong BLR rate equals to cheebye minus lancheow plus lamphar, but I changed my mind after giving a thought about him having my number and all. So I replied courteously.

You got the wrong number. I’m an engineer. Not a mortgage officer.

Man, what a fucking dumbass. This is fast becoming a disturbing trend – I’ve noticed that a lot of people nowadays do not seem to know how to answer a question straight. Ask yourself, how many times have you asked a co-worker or a fast food operator something, and that person goes on to elaborate about something that is totally irrelevant?

Q: “Do you have the roadmap for this project?”
Dumbass answer: “I already called a meeting with the client, bla bla bla, and I have gotten their agreement bla bla bla….” [goes on for the next 1.5 minutes without a confirmation]

The only possible valid answer for the question above is obviously either a ‘Yes’, or a ‘No’, and perhaps after that, specify where the hell is the roadmap, or why don’t you fucking have it yet. But many a times, people would just drift to another world with their stupid ass answer. This is just so annoying.

michaelooi  | phonecalls  | 6 Comments
October 18, 2010

the midget’s son

You know, people often say certain songs remind you of your certain past. Very true for me, eg. :
– whenever I hear Enigma’s ‘Beyond The Invisible’, I will think of the night I first hold my wife’s (girlfriend then) hand on a beach…
– whenever I hear The New Radicals’ ‘You Get What You Give’, I will think of the day I got my first car…
– whenever I hear The Beatles’ ‘The Sun King’ in their Abbey Road’s medley, I will think of the day I became jobless…

But the other day, a song called ‘Lambada’ came on air on the radio, and it immediately reminded me of my neighbor’s son (about my age) back in my ghetto-ish neighborhood when I was a kid. I didn’t know him very well, but I remember us hanging out a few times with some other kids before. I don’t even know his name till this day, just called him ‘the midget’s son’. Why ‘the midget’s son’? Well, his parents were midgets and the family ran a convenient store nearby (and my mom knew his midget mom very well so…), and the name just stuck – the midget’s son.

Then my family moved away from the slum neighborhood around 1989, so I totally lost my contact with all my childhood ‘friends’. It wasn’t until 1994 when I stumbled into the midget’s son riding a Honda cub 70cc motorcycle, near where I was living. His bike was an eyesore. It was cosmetically heavily modified – you know, chromed balancers, sawed off chain box, souped up absorbers, chromed everything, horsepower increasing stickers, noisy exhaust pipe, just a lot of noise without substance. But the most fucked up thing of all was when he braked that piece of junk, the whole bike would light up like it was trying to communicate with some extra terrestrial civilization from the outer fucking space, and at the very same time, the ‘Lambada’ song would blare out from its giant electronic buzzer – and that was how the song kinda latched on to my memory, partly linking him with it.

Then he was unseen again until about a couple years later, when I saw him speeding in a red Yamaha Sports 100cc – which was a more powerful bike, also the same bike I had – and I thought to myself, he finally got some sense and taste into him. But about a few days later, my mom broke a rather shocking news to me, “Hey, you remember that midget’s son? He got into an accident and he’s in a coma now.” And then I went “Wtf I just saw him a couple days ago!” (like it wouldn’t have happened if I have seen him, duh). And what’s even more bizarre, he actually hit an old lady who lived behind our house (at the new residence). So the situation was like, my ex neighbor hit my new neighbor, and both of them went into coma. Then came the shocker – the old lady died, and midget’s son followed a week later, without ever regaining consciousness. According to my mom, the midget’s son had a row with his midget parents just a couple months earlier, for not buying him this ‘more powerful bike’. He wanted the bike so bad that he threw his tantrum by kicking things around the house (like a spoilt brat). Not wanting to see their son being so stucked up in the ass, the midget couple eventually relented and bought him the bike. Big mistake. He’s dead now.

During his wake, I quietly rode my Yamaha Sports 100cc to the funeral parlor at night to pay him the last respect, and I saw his brother folding some joss paper for him, probably for bribing some hell officers to let him ride a ghost bike in the underworld. Then I said to myself, “Man I can’t fucking believe the midget’s son is dead…”. It’s always like that when someone my age dies.

His blood still taints the yellow box paint at the accident site intersection till this day. Kinda seeped into it. So, whenever ‘Lambada’ plays, instead of thinking of sweaty seductive Latino chicks grinding my drunken cock in a dance bar somewhere, I’ll think of the midget’s son, his stupid bike, his tragic accident, and this creepy ass blood stain.

michaelooi  | flashbacks  | 13 Comments
October 11, 2010


It was a blackout, and I was sitting with my 4 year old daughter in the candlelit living room. It was getting stuffy so I offered to take her out

Me: “Let’s go to the mall.”

Regine: “No I don’t want to.”

She wanted to stay at home playing with a board game.

Me: “But it’s so hot in here!”

Regine: “I can always bathe maa.”

Me: “Your mommy wants you to bathe with only warm water, and the heater is not working right now (blackout). So you can’t bathe.”

She then cogitated for a short while, turned to look at me and said this,

Regine: “I have an idea.”

Me: “What is it?”

Regine: “Just boil some water with a kettle, and mix it with cold water, then you’d get warm water.”

I was of course, totally dumbfucked. She was right! I can’t help but think, here I am, a guy who is able to troubleshoot an electronic failure and stuff, but couldn’t think of a way to make water warm without electricity. I was totally pwned by a 4 year old!

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 20 Comments
October 8, 2010

UiTM research team

Received this email from a purported ‘research team’ from UiTM Shah Alam…

from Kay
to Michael Ooi
date Fri, Oct 8, 2010 at 3:18 PM
subject UiTM Shah Alam (Malaysia)
3:18 PM (0 minutes ago)

We are the research team from UiTM Shah Alam, and currently we are conducting a study on Investigating Attraction Factors to Join Affiliate Program by Website Owner .
The objective of the study is to Investigating Attraction Factors to Join Affiliate Program by Website Owner .

We would appreciate it if you could spend few minute to
complete this questionnaire.

Please be informed that all of the information provided by you will be treated wise strict confidence and will be used for the purpose of this study way.

Follow this link : XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for your cooperation.

I mean,
– “to Investigating”?…
– “spend few minute”?…
– “information provided by you will be treated wise strict confidence”?…
– and note the email time, it’s future dated. (can’t even get the time right)


Damn, don’t you think his English is too suck ass to be of university level?
If they’re really from UiTM, I think the team does not need to conduct research. They need English classes.

michaelooi  | mails/posts  | 12 Comments
October 5, 2010

work bitch

Ask me anytime, what I hate most about being an engineer – it has to be working with women. I don’t know if this is just me, but it doesn’t really matter. Notwithstanding the fact that some of them have nice rack and body to ogle at, I just hate working with them.

Why do I hate working with them? It is because most of them are bitches. I find that they don’t seem to be able to think objectively to get things done. It has to be added with emo and feelings and whatnots, so that it is more difficult for the guys. And if they happen to have an opinion, they are often hellbent on getting things done their way, and no one is allowed to change that. If anyone comes along to change or counter the solidly formed opinion of that woman’s, then she shall register the culprit (and everyone involved in the rebellion) into her limited arithmetic logic unit lodged deep inside her brain – that only holds 2 registries – the registry of things to buy for herself, and an offenders’ list (which functions pretty much like a sex offenders’ list, except this is about personal grudge). And if you’re unlucky enough to end up in that list, you’re forever fucked.

Sometimes, you don’t even have to do anything to end up in that list. They can add you inside the list arbitrarily, without needing a reason. And that’s especially painful if you have to depend on that stupid cheebye bitch to get your job done. I have had that Abu Ghraib experience fuckloads of times. I can safely say, out of 10 women, at least 7 of them are like that. The majority is far too great to be ignored, that’s why I firmly believe that this has to be a gender thing (hey I might be wrong but, what the fuck). Maybe it is something that they have (that we guys don’t) that makes them all cranky like that, maybe it’s their uterus that is affecting the way they think, like a hardware electro-magnetic signal jammer or something. This sort of also explains why it gets progressively worse as they get older, you know. After they have worn out the usefulness of their uterus to procreate, the pair of tentacles sort of became an oversized appendixes waiting to catch an infection, that’s when things start to putrefy really bad inside and make them go really off in the head.

In Company Y (my new workplace), I have seen at least a dozen of such unmentionables. One of them is a screamer, i.e. the worst kind. She gets her job done by screaming. She’d scream every time she picks up her phone, like someone crushed her clitoris on a door jamb. So if one is unlucky enough to be located near her, that person would experience the perils of having a psychotic stepmother minus the physical abuse. I can’t help but wonder, what makes her think that screaming at your peers is ok. Doesn’t she know that it’s fucking deplorable? Thank god I do not have to deal with that abomination because we’re of different line altogether… but this could very well change in the future. *wipe sweat*. So guys, you better take care of yourselves.

I am counting my days to retirement.

michaelooi  | work shit  | 6 Comments