Some girls can be real fake, do you know that? Fake eyelashes, fake complexion, fake designer clothes, fake catwalk gait, fake English fucking accent. Yeah, there was a visitor at our lab today who has all that. Fake everything. From the way her fucking stiff face looked (from the excessively thick foundation and powder), she could probably fake an orgasm too. Had to fake it cause her hardware must be too worn out mating with giant carrots and firewood.

And then, as if her tragic outlook couldn’t fake enough lights out of herself, she had to fake her wits some more – asking incoherent questions and making ‘feel-smart’ expressions…

“Hmmmm”. “Okaieeeyyyy”. “Intereshtinggg”.

Yeah, I suppose that’s intelligent. Probably need a degree to do that.

Really, I don’t understand people like her. Why the fake accent? Why the snoot? To whore for attention? Well, she got my attention alright… the adverse kind. And I hope she would attract a lot of attention from poisonous snakes too, she definitely needs a few poisonous bites on her nether region.

[Maybe it wouldn't have been that bad if she were to just streak through the Company X carpark distributing free condoms. I'd probably think she's just a mental with a good cause, rather than this.]

You know, one very strange thing I noticed about life, is that… the odds for one to stumble into an old friend, are very much higher at places that serve alcoholic beverages (pubs, clubs, etc) than those that don’t. I don’t know if it’s only me, but I never seem to have met them at any other places. It was as if my senses are dull at normal times, and would only heighten when I consume enough booze to spot them.

The same thing happened to me (again) last Friday, I spotted TongHai — a friend whom I acquainted during my ‘school bus years’ — while drinking at a local lounge with Charles and Ayamas. Apart from not looking as tall and stout as he used to be, he hasn’t changed much from our kiddy days at all. The same turgid head full of pubic curls, thick neck and a bridge so wide that made his eyes seem to separate far apart like ‘The Toxic Avenger’… Good old TongHai.

“TongHai! Remember me?”

When I yelled at him, he was being dragged by a very tragic looking walrus sized female creature and he turned to look at me like I was trying to save his life (from that fucking walrus). He said nothing at first but grinned, with memory exception error written all over his face (that guy was half drunk, his brain’s not working at the full capacity – which explains the walrus and amnesia). Only after a few more prods to his stalled memory, we managed to light him up like a bulb and greeted like how old friends should.

Then, like someone who had just been given a larger capacity of thinking power, he excused himself from the walrus (thank god!) to hang around with us to catch up over some beers, you know… what are we doing now… where to hang out and stuffs. Then came the part when we talked about our marital status, to which, he learned that I already have a daughter of six months…

“I already have a daughter. Six months.”

“You mean, the knocked-up six months? Or the baby six months?”

“Baby six months.”

“Wow.”

“How about you dude? Married?”

“No I’m not married yet. But I like to fuck.”

He said that with a smug on his face. We were all of course dumbfucked with what he said. Talk about coherence. I mean, of course it is normal for everyone to like having sex in the literal sense. But you don’t just simply disclaim publicly that you ‘like to fuck’. It just ain’t right. It’s a mutual understandable thing, you don’t have to say it out loud.

Then as if we’re not clear enough, TongHai further gesticulated with his hands to emphasize his point, by vellicating his index finger into the ring of an ‘OK’ sign made by the alternate hand, and reiterated… loudly…

“I love fucking. Fucking is awesome.”

More handsigns followed. He continued to babble about ‘cheap chicks in good packages’ at some outlets that he had been frequenting and then he meticulously listed the prices for various samples of good ‘stocks’ he had ‘inspected’ before. Simply unbelievable. He sounded like a prospective pimp promoting vice tourism for the whole fucking Penang! Goddamn! Ok, either that, or he sounded like a really slow witted kid who had just discovered the sexual capability of his own genital and unable contain his excitement about it.

All the while, the 3 of us just nodded and pretended to be thrilled by his profound knowledge on where to get the best quickie for the lowest price in town. But actually, we’re more like… amazed, on the kind of injustices alcohol could do to a person’s wit, by diluting his senses and screwing up his logics. Who knows, maybe TongHai isn’t really a whorehound. Maybe he just wanted to boast in front of his friends, or in this case, distant friends. (But then, the price he quoted sounded kinda realistic so, I guess he’s really into fucking public toilets… I mean, prostitutes.)

But really, who cares. Just as long as he doesn’t rape farm animals out of desperation or participate in illegal motorcycle racing endangering the public, he can basically do whatever he wants.

So we kinda listened at our long lost friend doing a monologue detailing his fetish for illegal foreign prostitutes, chugging down beer as he dramatically flailed his arms to articulate certain important points… and watching him inebriating himself away into the night…

That was how the missing years of our friendship came to be – it’s all about shoving his dick into some pay-per-session cunts. Dirty old TongHai.

I’m sure most of you people must have at least one of those freak colleagues at your workplace, who seems to be too dumb to even pull the simplest of a job and yet, is indifferent to advices and instructions. Usually lives in the world of his own, not very bright and laughs at his own stupid jokes.
I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

Well, I have 5 of those bum colleagues, all coexisting in the same department as I am. Believe it man.

And because all 5 of them share the same level of retardation, they kinda compatibly mingle well together, forming a fraternal group whom we dubbed as ‘The Animal Gang’. There’s a specific type of animal that each of them suppose to represent, but I don’t quite remember who’s who – coz they all looked the fucking same to me – like retards. (The combined IQ of these 5 retards, is equal to the amount of intelligence it takes for me to pick up a pencil – that’s how ‘inadequate’ they are)

You can read more about the 5 schmucks of ‘The Animal Gang’ over at the following posts.

Elliot –
‘chi seen’ – posted on 2004.10.09
‘freak’ – posted on 2005.06.01
‘fish n chips’ – posted on 2005.06.17
‘Elliot the idiot’ – posted on 2006.01.24

Milkboy –
‘what’s that?’ – posted on 2005.05.12
‘the mysterious probe number 4′ – posted on 2006.03.17

Rod –
‘random shits’ – posted on 2004.10.11
‘what is kiwi?’ – posted on 2005.01.15

John –
‘spot the hot’ – posted on 2006.01.17
‘my lab technician is paralyzed from the neck up’ – posted on 2006.07.20

Mojo Jojo –
(*named after the villain mad scientist ape of that Powerpuff Girls cartoon show). I haven’t really blogged about this guy before. He was just briefly mentioned as the ‘junior engineer’ who didn’t know how to describe ‘dual core’ in this entry – here. He’s one of our new hire who is suppose to be educated and shits. But he’s not. Hell, he doesn’t even speak English. Most of the time, he’d murmur inside meetings, where he’d piss approximately half the room out (where the remaining half will be sleeping). So far, he hasn’t had any conflict with me… but he has been very annoying by asking a lot of asinine questions.

“Mike, should I use a phone or computer to contact the vendor?”

Just an example or something like that…
*****

The Animal Gang… I don’t know if it’s just pure bad luck for us to have an excess of these people around our department, or were they deliberately hired to make us abled individuals look like a real genius. But whatever that my boss has been working on, is definitely not looking good. The existence of this group has been more like a bane for our existence. They diminishes the quality of our working experience. They bring about pestilence wherever they go, and they fuck up whatever chores that they happen to lay their hands upon. They’re like, a diarrhea to the system. An cancer to the body. A giant piece of sanitary napkin that clogs the pipes of civilization. A genocide of intelligence.

People, if you see me getting hypnotized and turned myself into one of the ‘The Animal Gang’ members someday spreading havoc across the office, please do me a favor – dispatch me off from the surface of this planet. I won’t be me no more. It’s better that I die than being one of them.

It’s really a wonder how modern cosmetics and vanity articles could ooze an incredulous amount of confidence amongst women. Because of them, girls would miraculously never have to feel ugly no more. Just smear some magic chemicals on their face, follow some made-up dietary plans and voila! she’s all beautiful. Yeah right.

Such would be the case for Bonnie, one of the infamous harridans at my office. The big bad hypocrite bitch who backstabs and filch everyone’s credit for the good of her own. She’s easily one of the worst dressed person in Company X.

You see, Bonnie is not very well-endowed, but somehow out of her deficient mind, she doesn’t realize that. She thinks she’s hot and pretty. The fact is, she’s already at the brink of reaching her menopausal stage, and has saggy tits that resembled an old dog’s sack of testicles. But still, she dresses up like she has just got her first strand of pubic hair. Miniskirts, tank tops, tight skirts and every scanty clothing items she can find, to flaunt her imaginary curvy assets (the only curvy surface I managed to spot would be her bloated squid-like head, the rest are just dimpled and wavy lards)

She would plod around the office in a fake catwalk gait, with her head held up high, thinking that everyone’s having a wet daydream about her – which is, totally fucking wrong. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. A little survey around the office revealed that many of the guys would rather die (or fuck an exhaust pipe) than to imagine themselves having a piece of this wretched ratfink. (my colleague KS told me that he feels like flinging his mug at her each time she’s in vicinity)

It’s perplexing isn’t it? Why can’t she pick up the negative vibes around her already? Can’t she see the gag reflexes (or the puddles of pukes) she generated along the sidewalk herself? What the fuck is she thinking? That she could hide her age behind those gaudy rags and cheap cosmetics?

It’s goddamn depressing.

People, if the descriptions above somehow reminisce you of yourself, let me break this bad news for you – no, cosmetics and rags won’t cover up your aging. You know what would? Paperbag. Just wear it over your head. If you need to see, cut two holes on them. Or alternately, you can kill yourself. Like I’ve said many times before, corpses don’t age.

Bonnie, I could have grabbed any beast from an animal shelter, run it over with a truck and set it on fire, it’ll still be very much better looking than her. FUckk.

Today, while I was productively flipping through a stack of filed documents in a ring file, I noticed that some of the documents were terribly misaligned from the rest of papers. Like this…

Now, on any normal day, this would have been ignored, since it couldn’t have hurt nobody being that way. But not today. Today, I was feeling kinda hyper. (Maybe due to the Van Buuren mixes that I’ve been listening). So, I decided to get really concerned about it, and determined to find out who was behind all these fuck ups.

And so, I scrutinized every form that was misaligned in the ring file. First document, it was John. The second document, it was John again. The subsequent misaligned documents – they were all John’s. I flagged John over.

Me : “Dude, do you even know how to file documents?”

John : “…”

Me : “Look at these” [shows him the misaligned documents inside the file]

John : “…”

Me : “This is unacceptable. Now, be honest, do you know how to properly punch holes on documents and file them nicely like the rest of us?”

John : “Errmmm… no”

He said that with a sheepish expression.

Me : “FUCK! You’re hopelessly unbelievable! Now… I do not want to sound like an anal retentive freak here, but to be frank, it is little things like this that will make you lose your job in future. Do you get what I’m saying here?”

John : “I understand…”

He understands. I’m impressed, duh.

Me : “You see this little arrow here on the puncher?”

John : “Uhmmm yeah”

Me : “Now THAT arrow, is your center indicator. Every puncher has it. You just have to fold your documents into half, and align that folding line to the arrow… like this… and then you fucking punch it. That’s how we do it. Do you understand?”

John : “Ohhhhh ok ok”

Simply unbelievable. High school graduate who doesn’t even know how to punch proper holes to file paper documents. Now if you’re as clueless as my lab technician John here, be fucking thankful… for I have liberated your ass from getting that big envelope on your desk.