Archive for the ‘experiences’ Category

June 3, 2018

drama minggu ini

I was driving out of the apartment compound to fetch my daughter from school with my wife. I reached the apartment boom gate which I was required to scan an electronic card to lift the gate and exit. But right in front of the scanner, were these 2 old Indian farts with a small fallen palm tree from a neighbor’s compound. One of them was an holding a hooked saw, and the other was holding the fallen tree (they both looked alike, I think they’re twins or brothers or something).

Because they’re blocking the whole way and I could not pass (and they did not seem to know that I was there), I let out a short honk, to let them know that ‘I’m here’. You know, a short honk, like a friendly honk. But instead of acknowledging that positively, the guy holding the saw started to get agitated and reacted by waving the saw at me menacingly. I didn’t provoke him further so, I just waited in the car for them to finish whatever the fuck that they’re doing. Then they proceeded to talk to each other about something (still holding the tree/saw) – like there’s a family matter between them (bad alcohol debt perhaps?) and that was when my wife remarked,

“What the hell are those guys doing there talking in the middle of the road? Why can’t they just drag the tree to the side?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Typical Indians. They wanted to look important, I guess.”

(I’m not a racist, please. I’m a misanthrope. I hate every fucking one all the same. Not just one race. Believe me).

The guy holding the hooked saw, saw us talking about them (the gesture gave it away), and again, we waved his saw at us.. like it is forbidden for us to have an opinion about him. And finally, after a couple moment’s worth of delay (waiting for these 2 old farts talking to each other in the middle of the road), they finally dragged the tree to the side and let me pass. When I reached the scanner area, agitated saw guy was standing next to my passenger window and was mouthing something at us with a grim expression. I rolled down the window to hear him clearly, and he said

“Lu tak boleh tunggu ka??” (in an angry manner).
[translation: “Can’t you just wait??”]

I don’t know what the fuck was that guy’s problem so I waited for him to finish what he got to say.

“Kita potong pokok, kalau itu pokok jatuh kena kereta kamu, macam mana??” (in an angry manner)
[translation: “We’re cutting down a tree. How would you like the tree to land on your car??”]

Fucking Indian antics again, being dramatic and all. One, the tree was already cut down and on the ground. He was full of shit there. Two, I did wait in the car, didn’t I? So why was he so damn pissed off about me waiting? Three, it was a fucking small palm tree, no bigger than a motorcycle. The guy was dragging it with 1 of his puny hands, that’s how small it was. I had to yell back at him for being such a bitch:

“Apasal lu marah-marah?? Saya tak marah lu marah apa?? Ambik pokok ke tepi lah!”
[translation: “Why are you so pissed off?? I should be the one who is pissed off! Just drag the tree to the side!”]

And my wife yelled at him as well “You mia pokok sudah potong lah!”
[translation: “You’ve already cut the tree!”]

He was taken aback. He probably thought we’re the kind of couple who’d let him castigate willingly because we’re supposed to be afraid of him. He tried to yell back but I wasn’t listening. I was prepared for a confrontation if he uses the saw on my car but eventually, he took a step back and walked the fuck away.

I really do not know why people like to complicate matters. All these could have been avoided and unnecessary. I get agitated easily too, yes, but this is a whole new level of hot headedness. Maybe it was the short honk that triggered him. Maybe that was the last thing he heard in his past life as a dog when a vehicle mowed him down into pieces, I don’t know. But as a grown up old fart, the guy could’ve been handled this way more calmly (I don’t expect professionalism), and amicably.

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April 17, 2018

coincidence

If you’ve been following this blog, you’d know that my mom took her own life after battling a bout of depression a few years ago. She did a lot of planning to take her own life, right to the details on how she wanted her funeral to be handled and the location of the receipt for the niche to put her ash. I had to go through her suicide notes, and the most difficult thing that I had to contend, was to learn that she’d been planning for her death all the while being normal to us and I was unknowingly appointed to handle the aftermath of her death. (she did say sorry to me in her notes for that).

One of the things that I had to do (that wasn’t part of the note), was to dispose of the car she died in. It was parked at that very location for many days, way after her funeral. I was the one who bought the car for her, and drove it back from Perak from the used car dealer. Wasn’t a great car but, was practical. The morning that my mom disappeared, we were toiling in worry to search for this car, and none of us found it until the gardener noticed it hidden in a basement with the engine running and inside it, my mom’s body. The car was in a mess when we got back to it after the funeral. Its interior was filled with the odor of gas fumes and it had broken glass in its interior (rescuers had to break the window to get to my mom). Out of obligation, one of my mom’s brothers offered to sell off the car for us, so he drove it off to a used car dealer somewhere and was disposed of for an insignificant sum of money. Out of grief, I did not feel like taking the money so, I donated all of it to a charity organization. I never saw that car again after signing the documents at the used car dealer that day.

Fast forward 7 years later, about a few weeks ago… this car made an appearance right in front of our apartment’s guard house. My wife Emily was the first to notice it, and she alerted me. “Dear, I saw your mom’s car outside our apartment! How did it end up back here?”
“That’s just a sheer coincidence”

It made a few more appearances outside our apartment compound, and was no longer seen again… until a week ago, it was parked at a parking lot right across my car. Apparently, the person who had bought the car that my mom died in 7 years ago, moved to the apartment unit at our ground floor, which has a parking lot right across my parking space. What are the odds of that happening? So many people in Penang and so many apartments to move to, and it ended up right across where I can see it all the time. And now, I get a grim reminder of how my mom looked like when she was in her rigor mortis state whenever I get home from work every day… I just hope my mom won’t appear in it and flag me over to have a chat… Because that’s just wrong, that car is no longer hers, goddamn it.

michaelooi  | experiences, personal  | Comments Off
January 6, 2018

porcine Japanese woman in the laundry room

We were in Kyoto. I was having some winter itch and had to spent my time alone, naked, in the bathroom with a tub of vaseline (I purposely made it sound obscene but, it is actually not), so my wife Emily had to do the laundry that night.

Off she went to the hotel’s communal laundry room… but unfortunately, all the (coin operated) washing machines were occupied so, she decided to wait in that room with our bag of dirty laundry as one of the machines was about to finish washing. (but none of the owners were there so, she was alone when she waited in the laundry room). Then a short moment later, in came this fat Japanese woman with a bag of laundry. Seeing that all the machines were in use, she sat next to my wife on the bench waiting, and then struck up a friendly conversation.

She seemed fine at first, until my wife realized that she had a motive. She wanted to go first on the laundry, which seemed odd because the Japanese are known to be courteous people. I guess she must be one of those odd ones that didn’t make it within the standard deviation of the Japanese society. Not wanting to upset her, Emily iterated to the fat Japanese lady politely that she had to wait for her turn to do the laundry, which wouldn’t be up for quite some time. That was when things went wrong.

The fat lady snapped, and started to yell (that was what Emily told me) in Japanese. She was trying to reason that she only had very little amount of clothes (in barely intelligible English), and then started to bitch her remaining gibberish in Japanese. Shocked, Emily tried to ignore her and continued waiting. But she couldn’t help but notice the eccentricities of that fat Japanese lady who then resorted to talk to herself, raucously picking her nose and eating her own boogers like they were green tea flavored snacks.

By this time, Emily was really scared. Short of turning her head 360 degress and puking green slime, the fat Japanese lady looked like she’s possessed or something. Much to her relief, one of the owners then turned up to collect the finished laundry, and Emily quickly dumped our laundry into the machine and bailed the place a.s.a.p. When she left the room, the possessed fat Japanese lady was still talking to herself.

This was immediately channeled to me when Emily got back to the hotel room. I was urged to go to the laundry room to check on our laundry, in fear that the crazy Japanese woman might do something to our clothes. But because the machines had a locking mechanism with password protection, I decided to only do it when the laundry was done, which was about 1.5 hours later. When I went there, the lady was still sitting on the bench in the laundry room. But she wasn’t talking to herself… just sitting there, with a bag of laundry… waiting. I quickly went to grab the clothes, and then left the room promptly. To my surprise, she wasn’t as fat as I thought (it was different from how my wife described her) and she seemed pretty normal. So I clarified with my wife when I got back to the hotel room:

“I think I saw that lady, she’s still waiting there. But she seemed normal”
“Eeeewh… She’s still there??”
“Yeah, but she’s not talking to herself. She’s in a dark blue overalls, right?”
“Yes”
“Long hair? Not too old? in her 30’s?”
“Yes”
“But she doesn’t look fat. She looks normal. Not skinny, but normal.”
“No, she’s fat. Obese.”
“Couldn’t be. The lady I saw wasn’t obese. And she’s not talking to herself or eating boogers. Maybe she’s a different person.” (she could’ve ran out of topics and out of boogers, I reckon – but certainly she couldn’t shapeshift).
“I don’t know, could be her.”

Shapeshifting demon that could project herself to different people? Creepy. Fucking Japanese creeps. Someone with better imagination should make this into a horror movie plot… We can title the horror flick as ‘A night at the laundry room’…

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April 13, 2017

wisdom removed 2

If you can remember, I removed my lower right wisdom tooth 8 years ago. It was a fucking torture.

Since then, I had been living with a lingering fear, the dreadful thought that one day, I’d be required to fucking remove THIS ONE OTHER WISDOM TOOTH and go through the nightmare all over again. And I got reminded of that everytime I floss my teeth. It’s like the Little Red Riding Hood looking out of her grandma’s window, each time she sees a shadow, she’s going to think about the big bad wolf mounting on her… doggy style her to death… before feasting on her corpse. It’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’…

So I have been living in constant fear like that, until the day of reckoning came… last week. It happened when I flossed the teeth fissure too hard and cracked the adjacent tooth next to the wisdom tooth. I immediately knew then, that this must be the sign from a higher being that the time was nigh for me to bear the cross of suffering, and get this over with once and for all. So I called the fucking dentist, made an appointment and mentally prepared myself for the D-Day (scheduled 2 days after the flossing incident).

The worst was the walk to the dental office. I haven’t felt so scared before in my life. And indeed, my instincts were right, it was way harder than the first one. This tooth was almost 1.5x bigger! And like before, the dentist had to break the shit up in several pieces in 2 sessions (I noticed a 10 min interval in breaking the tooth – probably too exhausted). The procedure took more than an hour to complete and eventually, it came out in about 7 pieces – with the final intact piece about half the size of a plug-in ear phone. I took the picture below right after the agonizing episode…


shit’s so big that it has its own part number…

Surprisingly, the aftermath wasn’t as bad as the previous one though, probably because I was mentally prepared for the suffering. The only shit thing was, the painkiller kinda gave me non-stop hiccups, which made me at the verge of going crazy. In the end, I opted to stop taking the painkiller, and resort to sucking ice cubes instead. I’m so damn glad it’s finally fucking over… I’m going to celebrate by eating some animals.

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February 20, 2017

GRAB/Uber drivers

I’ve met some of the fuckest GRAB/Uber fucks in my ride hailing experience…

1) Malay fuck who refused to use a phone holder or a map.
It was Uber. I wanted to go to the airport. The fucktard showed up on my map tracker near my pick-up point making no less than 5 u-turns around the area. I had to message the guy the street name twice (which was already stated as the pick up location), and in the end, I had to call the guy up and issued him turn-by-turn direction. He told me he was confused with the roads (that was because he wasn’t using a map). When he finally showed up, it was an Alza that was modified like it was to be burnt as an offering to some Ah Beng undeads. The trunk was full of junk, and I could only fit in 1 luggage bag (I had 2 of them). Through the entire journey to the airport, the fucker would text and hold his phone with his bare hands, and NO MAPS. I gave him a 1 star rating. I prayed to the devil for his car to explode after we left.

2) Indian fart whose car stinks to high heaven.
It was GRAB. I hailed it from Company T on a Friday noon to go to lunch. I nearly lost my appetite for lunch because the car smelled like it was filled with urinal cakes. It had festoons of flowers hanging on the rear view mirror, partially blocking the driver’s view. He drove like he was gonna get a head from his flat’s janitor if he wears his brake pads faster than he could wear off his transmission gears. He’d do short bursts of accelerations and fuckloads of brakings. Coupled with the urinal cake stench, and 350 bps loud ass Indian fighting songs, I was at the verge of regurgitating my breakfast in his car on my lunch break. I didn’t give the Indian fucker a star, he deserved none. (But he’d get that head soon from his janitor)

3) Housewife who made up her sleep time on the wheels.
It was GRAB. Hailed from a hotel lobby, but she went to the wrong hotel (illiterate?). After a few phone calls, housewife showed up with a tiny car. She whipped out a book and asked me the details of my destination like I was being interviewed. Where is it? What is the district called? How do we go there from here? I told her to use the map on her goddamn phone. She wrote something in her journal, set map and griped about the journey (it was about an hour’s ride away). Halfway through the expressway, housewife fucking nodded off and was in between her consciousness, drifting across lanes and back. I only realized she was nodding off when I noticed the drifting (I was trying to avoid eye contact lest she’d engage in an awkward conversation). I feigned a lot of throat irritation noises to keep her awake (I didn’t want to talk to her). She dropped me off on the wrong street. I fucking gave her no stars. I hope she gets constipated.

4) Fat girl whose phone gave up on her
It was GRAB. Wanted to go from Klang to Lot 10. Hailed and immediately got a message that she needed to refuel before picking me at my location. I agreed because I’m a reasonably considerate motherfucker. Her location didn’t change on the map for 15 mins, and suddenly showed up (her GPS was not working – bad omen). She was talking to herself when she drove, had sequins decorated over her windows and her phone had – from what I noticed at first – topographic patterns on the screen, but I eventually realized those were crack marks all over the screen. Her phone kept giving this weird tone, which indicated charge/discharge connection issue from the 12v phone charger. She fumbled around and reinserted the cable for a few times. Then wham! phone went offline. She fumbled for a bag, whipped out another 12v charger, didn’t work (she was doing about 70kph on the freeway with half her attention focused on fixing the goddamn phone). She then used a power bank, didn’t work either. Her phone’s dead, and she’s offline permanently. She then turned to me and asked – “do you have a preferred route? or do you want to just follow wherever I go?”. I gave her a ‘what the fuck’s that supposed to mean’ look, fired up my Waze on my phone and offered her a handheld map service for 40 mins.

5) Mat Rempit who skimps on his air con
It was GRAB again. Wanted to go to the airport with colleagues. This Mat Rempit lookalike with gay mustache and Village People shades showed up with a warm car in the hot afternoon. When colleagues complained, I cranked up the air conditioner myself, only to be stinky eyed by the driver for touching his car – probably reminded him of the days he got uncomfortably felt up by the newspaper man when his dad was away. He turned the air con back down after about 5 mins, and it was sauna in his tiny, shaky car. It was so hot in there, that my ass sweated and my sweat permeated into his fabric seat. I hope his car smells like my ass for eternity. Fucking cibai. I didn’t give him any star.

6) Creepy tomboy who was too fake.
It was UBER. From the driver profile, the name was Jimmy. When the car showed up, it was a girl with crew cut and boyish garbs (a tomboy). Tomboy looked serious and angsty, but her car audio was playing chicken ass Chinese love songs. Halfway through the drive, tomboy started convulsing violently and she took out a dildo and started flailing it at me and her head turned 360 degrees with white pupils looking totally like Evil Dead trying to eat Bruce Campbell’s ass. Alright I made that up… it’s a fucking tomboy, I fucking hate tomboys. There’s nothing to say about tomboys except that they’re posers and they don’t have dicks and they drive like shit and they have hot dyke girlfriends.

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