I came across the name ‘Maggie’ today and got reminded of my trollop sister. Yes, people… despite being known as ‘Beancurd’ here, that’s actually not her real name (if you can’t tell). My sister likes people to call her ‘Maggie’.

But then you see, Maggie isn’t her real name either. Like me, she adopted that English name when she was a teenager. Unlike her, I adopted mine for a good reason – my real name is too fucked up and people with inadequate intelligence will not be able to pronounce it properly. So, in order to make myself more sociable and not too celestial, I adopted the name ‘Michael’, and got my mom’s approval on it.

My sister however, chose not to tell anyone at home about her fancy name. She just tagged along her friend to a church one day, and suddenly she’s ‘Maggie’. Fucking shit. So when hordes of her itchy male friends started to call our home to look for ‘Maggie’, they’re conveniently fended off like stray insects on the windscreen of a moving vehicle at night.

“Hello, may I speak to Maggie?”
“Sorry, wrong number.”

You get the idea. It wasn’t long before my sister started to realize that she’s regressing towards the opposite direction in popularity amongst her retarded friends, and soon got my ass responsible for everything by screaming at me at the top of her lungs one day… (as I was the one who answered the phone most of the time… and a much easier target than my mom)…

“WHY DID YOU REJECT MY FRIENDS’ CALLS!?”
“What? Where got?”
“Maggie! That’s me! I am Maggie! Whom you told my friends no such person exists!”
“Since when you’re known as Maggie!? How would I know if you didn’t tell anyone about it??”
“Just mind your business, ok?? I’m going to smack you if you ever do this again!!”
“Maggie… what a stupid name. Why don’t you call yourself Indomie or Cintan instead?? Pffhh”

But what did I know. I was just a kid. I thought she named herself after a popular brand of instant noodle. I didn’t know it is short form for Margaret, a beautiful name. Perhaps she named herself ‘Maggie’ to do her personality some justice, which she severely lacked of. You know, like a fake plastic bait to lure fish (fish = guys, in her case). Or could be that, she named herself after a popular 80′s Hong Kong actress – Maggie Cheung. But rest be assured, my sister looked nothing like Maggie Cheung… well, except maybe if she were to have a tumor in her colon, my sister could look like that piece of tumor, covered in shit.

But my best bet is still, she named herself ‘Maggie’ as a short form not for ‘Margaret’… but for ‘maggot’, which aptly describes her character very well. Oh yeah.

One of my wife’s colleague is pregnant with her third child, and has been acting smug about it. She thought that it is the smartest thing to do that she manages to keep it secret from her husband. It makes her feel in control, she said. When the time comes, she’ll just tell it to her husband’s face that she’s going to fucking have a baby and there’s nothing he can do about it.

It was needless to say, an innuendo to my wife that it is important for a woman to take charge of her own life. I don’t know why would she use her own case to make a good example out of this, but what is even more befuddling to me, is that she thought that I have been forbidding my wife from having another baby… and I have all along been an evil husband. Which gives that pregnant colleague, I believe, the compulsion to gloat about her seemingly dominant position in her marriage.

Little does that lady know that the decision to have only 1 child is a mutual one between my wife and I, based on a few reasons known only to us. But this is not about my wife and I. It’s about that pregnant colleague. I wonder what kind of a fucked up person she is to do that kind of thing to her own husband. Does this really fucking give her the sense of conjugal empowerment? What the fuck. That has got to be the most retarded thing ever. I guess she’s planning to keep hiding her pregnancy from her husband by alluding that her ever growing belly is just a tub of lardy substance. (yeah, she’s also coincidentally fat, very hard to tell if she’s pregnant sometimes).

Things that people would do to feel important. The husband should have secretly asked to have her spayed back when she had the second child, knowing that she’s such a vile person. And now that poor husband is in for an oncoming freight train.

In conjunction of the World Hepatitis Day on 19th May, I am writing this post to commemorate my ex-boss Rob (if you can remember him, I used to blog about this motherfucker like, a lot), who recently died of liver cancer from a hepatitis infection. o_O

Alright, he’s actually still alive, no hepatitis or whatsoever. I made up the story to make it sound better. He is, in fact, enjoying his life right now. Doing nothing. Last I heard, after he went to China, he got promoted to a senior manager. With his new handsome paycheck, he splurged his money on women, patronized brothels and posh nightclubs to satisfy his everyday perversion (he was already a well known whore hound back in Penang). Soon it got out of control and eventually, he hooked up permanently with a barely pubescent China doll, divorced his wife, left his children with her and moved with the doll to Singapore to do something of even less significance, but with an even bigger paycheck.

That bastard is sure a lucky son of a bitch. He’s progressing exponentially by not doing anything (while screwing someone who’s young enough to be his daughter) – while people like me (and you) who toil under the hot office fluorescent lights working our ass off get stagnant in our career. Life is certainly fucking fair. (squeezes mouse hard)

I recently found a photo of him while browsing my HDD, and decided to post it up here, in case any of you wants to beat him up for good or something (or put a face to that ‘Rob’ name). He’s the one with his mouth wide open, without a hat and sparse curly hair.

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I remember when I was a kid, I used to love this arcade game called ‘Raiden’. It was an air combat fighting game (required very little strategy, but more of reflex), where you get to control a cool looking spaceship, creaming asses and dodging hostile fires as you go along. One of the coolest things you can do in the game – I remember, was to ‘power up’. Kill a commander ship, and you’ll be rewarded with a floating blinking ‘power up’ icon. To get it, you just need to ram into the icon, and your weapons will be automatically upgraded (wider canon, twin laser beams) – which allows you to take on bigger and nastier bosses. Good times in arcade centers.

I was thinking, wouldn’t it be awesome if there are indeed such ‘power ups’ in reality? You know, like… walk up to your boss, punch him in the face, get a floating icon, then ZINGGG, you are automatically upgraded to take his place… and then move on to take on the next level? If things are that simple, then surely we’d all be brawling our asses off. Any retard knows that this is just ridiculous.

But one of the technicians in my lab seems to be delusional enough to believe in that ‘power up’ bullshit. He was sustaining his technician job fine until he got himself an engineering degree recently, which gave him the alleged ‘power up’. The engineering degree, in some weird ways, made him think that he is all that smarter, and more competent overnight. He began to diss his own job all of the sudden, citing that it was too substandard for him, and demanded for something better. Metaphorically, you can imagine that this is akin to a baboon who just got hold of a pair of pants, and demanded to get out of the zoo to work in Google.

Little did that technician realize – that his engineering degree, isn’t going to help his current state of employment (let alone his experience and knowledge). A technician having a degree is still a technician, because he was hired to be a technician. A KFC manager is still a KFC manager even if that guy gets a PhD during his tenure. However, it will be a different story if the person QUITS, and applied elsewhere for a better position (which he should have done, since he despises the job so vehemently). But sadly, that technician thought that his degree was his ‘power up’ pill, and therefore, he is exempted from needing to work hard, gaining the rapport/trusts at work and achieving his given goals to gain a promotion – to become an engineer. Makes you wonder what are the kids learning these days at college, doesn’t it?

*FYI – I did assign the technician to take over some of the ‘low level engineering work’ a few days ago as a trial. Guess what happened? The guy freaked out because he was totally clueless (he was bad even for a technician level) and couldn’t handle a shit. Suffice to say, his engineering degree is nothing more than a piece of paper to adorn his empty wall…

The lab was relatively quiet today, when the sound of someone squealing suddenly broke the silence. It was Milkboy, our lab technician. I gave a quick glance at him to see what was the commotion all about, and saw him standing in front of a bunch of his work stuff, apparently amused at something, for he was grinning ear to ear.

Milkboy : “Look guys! This is so cool! The temperature rises when I hold this probe with my hand!”

He was holding a thermocouple probe (a thermocouple probe is basically an electrical thermal measuring device). So, he was squealing and getting all excited when he saw that darn probe reading his body temperature, which frankly speaking, is nothing short of being fucking retarded (not to mention annoying). I felt the urge to shoot him down, and did it,

Me : “What were you expecting?? If that thing does not register any temperature when you hold it, that would have meant that you’re a fucking corpse, you moron! It was just reading your body temperature!”

Milkboy : “Yeah I know but I was surprised that it could even read my temperature when I hold it like this… like, like this…” [proceed to do something silly with the probe on his palm]

I could not even describe how fucking moronic he looked when he was acting all fascinated with that ‘new discovery’ of his. It was probably something close to how our first neanderthal ancestors would react, if they were to be shown a battery operated butt plug that emits blinking LED lights…

I mean, seriously, I am now surrounded with a thick layer of doubt if I have all along been working with a real biological retard. Remember the ‘mysterious probe number 4′ incident? Now, THAT and THIS, they couldn’t have been a mere coincidence. Disturbing indeed.

I left the lab after that, leaving the poor guy alone, still all fascinated with the probe thing…