Archive for the ‘experiences’ Category

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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January 9, 2017

health check

When was the last time I had my ‘complete health check’? According to the records, never. Blood tests are not considered a ‘complete health check’. It’s just part of a ‘complete health check’. A ‘complete health check’ is apparently a subjective term. There’s no such thing as a complete health check (because it is impossible to check 100% of your whole body to ensure that you’re 100% healthy). But in the realms of the health care industry, a ‘complete health check’ comes in a package worth MYR1.5k, and I get it for free because I work for Company T.

That was why I went to get one back in December (again, my wife made me do it). Through the years working for Company T, never once I went for a ‘complete health check’ because I’ve always thought the whole thing is pure bollocks (I know could be wrong, so cut it out already).

Anyway, one of the tests that needed to be done was this stool collection. All you gotta do is give the lab guy your favorite stool (can be from Ikea or one of those cheap ass stools you bought from the local furniture shop, any color is fine) and get it back the next day. Kidding. A stool is your shit. They need to collect your shit to check if you’re healthy or something like that.

Now, this shit collection thing is something new for me. Prior the ‘complete health check’ day, I imagined that they’d give me a big plastic bag or something and I’d just shit inside it then pass the bag back to them. I’d of course parade the bag of shit across the bewildered crowd at the reception area before handing it over. The plastic bag better not leak I suppose, otherwise it’d be hilarious.

So… came the moment. Lab assistant, who was an old lady of 60 years old, was about to ask me to shit. But instead of a straightforward request, she gave me a concerned look. She said to me,

“I need to get your stool sample. I can understand if you want to come back the next day with the sample…”

I was like, what? That was strange.

“Why would I want to come back the next day?”

“To pass us the stool sample. You can do it when you’re convenient at home.”

“Why can’t I do it now? Like, I can just give it to you now…”

“You can do it now?”

“Why not?”

Apparently, constipation is a thing now amongst the people. She was surprised that I could just ‘give it to her’. Little did she know that I have an on/off switch in me like a McDonalds Chocolate Sundae machine (you can say that I’m just full of shit). By just flipping it, and out comes the Chocolate Sundae, any time of the day. You can dispense it in a cup or cone, doesn’t matter. But I was given this plastic container instead with a small plastic spoon in it.

“So I just scoop it up with this spoon? You only need just a small spoonful? Or do you want me to fill the container to the brim with the spoon?”

Old lady sheepishly answered she only needed a spoonful. I gave her more that day.

PS: My complete health check came back positive for ‘Extreme Tired-of-all-the-Bullshit at Work Syndrome’ (ETBWS) and ‘Chronic Laziness Syndrome’ (CLS), otherwise, I’m completely fine.

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November 24, 2016

yellow flood

Remember this post I wrote about? The 2 hours’ worth of traffic standstill in the same 7 – 8km with my wife and daughter in the car? Actually, there’s one other thing that happened which I didn’t mention… and it is one of those things that will make me remember this day for the rest of my life.

You see, before reaching the big fucking jam, I already had the urge to pee. (you can see where this is going) It wasn’t a strong one, but just a small urge that makes you think you can hold for another 30 mins or so. That was until I hit the fucking traffic, right before the tunnel. When we hadn’t moved for close to 20 minutes in the car, I immediately knew I was in deep shit. I started to calculate the time for me to be able to go to the nearest restroom, and the calculation didn’t look very good for me. But I held a glimmer a hope that the jam’s going to be a short one.

At approximately the 45th minute’s mark in the stagnant traffic, I started to develop this pain which can be best described as those ‘menstrual pain’ that you bitches encounter. I was holding my pee so bad, that my butt cheeks were clamped shut hard enough to develop butt fatigue, on top of the throbbing bladder muscle that felt like a cramp’s coming. I had to sit side ways to let the gravity take over the aching butt muscles and cramp. My concentration started to wane. I was beginning to look for a dark spot anywhere by the long lines of stationary cars by the highway that I could somehow hide-pee, but because it was night time and there were so many car headlights lighting up along the road, I eighty-sixed the wild idea. I even thought of sticking my dick out by the window to pee, but my daughter’s at the backseat and my dick’s not long enough to do that (dick has to be at least a foot long to be able to feasibly do that)

At approximately 1hr 15th minute’s mark in the jam, I started to cuss incessantly. Nothing made sense anymore. The menstrual pain was so bad, that I think my brain simply had shut off the pain signal and it was all numb. I was hitting at the steering erratically and was at the verge of exploding. I swear, that was the color went offline in my eyes, I started to see things in black and white. I couldn’t make any sense out of anything I heard (my wife were talking to me at some point). Then, I saw the bottle – the Tupperware ECO bottle (500ml version) that I had right beside me, and I looked at my wife, and I told her – “I have to fucking pee in this bottle or I’m gonna die”. I then opened the car door, emptied out the water from the bottle onto the tarmac, slid the seat back to its furthest extend, stretched out both my legs, stuck my dick into the bottle and pee’d. I had to request for my daughter’s cooperation to not look to the front, erase this horrifying incident from her memory, and not talk about this to anyone or anything.

It was the craziest feeling of rush I’d ever encountered. Fucking pee jetted out mad like a stream of pressurized water in a carwash, so damn strong that I could see foam forming like it’s some kind of German beer. Then came another predicament – the bottle was fast getting full and I couldn’t stop! (I was also worried at the same time that my dick would get stuck in the bottle like one of those perverts who had to go to the hospital to get it out) The highly pressured stream of urine prevented the flood gate from closing, I had to literally assist with a pinch, and a re-clench maneuver (the guys should know what I’m talking about) and while doing that, I had to empty the bottle out onto the tarmac as fucking fast as I could before the levee breaks (cue in Led Zeppelin guitar riff…)! And I repeated for 2 more goddamn times! (that’s about 1 liter plus of pee). When it was finally over, I had my pants half wet (it’s inevitable) and a fucking ruined Tupperware ECO bottle. The relief, however, was indescribable. It was like, being able to live again after being dead for years.

Fast forward 30 mins later, I ended up visiting the restroom again at a drive thru McDonald’s (that was after learning that my father in law had been discharged from the hospital, and there’s no point for us to be there anymore) to have another round of draining, and those were the pee that got backed up in my kidneys (and perhaps even before the kidneys) due to the fatal exception error thrown by the failing bladder. In all, I must have pee’d close to 2 liters of urine that could have possibly gone out the other way. It was fucking insane. Definitely one of the craziest experience I’ve ever encountered in my life…

*The Tupperware ECO bottle, was discarded into the trashcan right outside the fast food restaurant. I sure hope no one would pick it up to use as a drinking bottle…

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October 16, 2016

skeevy old man

I was at this regular food court in the morning for breakfast with my wife, Emily. We were waiting for our orders, when we got approached by this old man. From what I reckoned, he was probably in his early 60s. Donning a pair of thick sunglasses (perched on his hair like it’s going to make him 20 years younger or something), an oversized blue batik shirt and a pair of black old people slacks. He asked us this while pointing to an empty plastic chair at our table:

“Is this seat taken? Is someone sitting here?”

There were only 2 of us, so the seat wasn’t ‘taken’. But I didn’t know if he simply wanted that chair (which is common) or if he was asking if he could share our table with him – which was uncommon, because

a) Penang is a place that respects personal space, table sharing with strangers is not a common practice.
b) There were still a few empty tables at the back of the food court, and another lone-patron old lady with a table all by herself (if table sharing was his thing, he could have picked a better target, just saying…) – which oddly, he went right past and didn’t ask for a seat.
c) I do not like sharing tables with strangers. Even more so with old people. I’d lose my appetite if the table is shared by a stranger. If have to be, I’d rather give up my table than sharing it with strangers.

Anyway, I politely asked & remarked,

“Are you asking if you can take the chair? You can have the chair if you want.”

Old man then said, rather rudely “I want to sit here at this table!”

Bummer. I had to lie in order not to be rude, “I’m sorry, I am expecting a company to join us later. Perhaps you can find another table?”

Old man then flipped out and yelled at me, “THEN JUST SAY THE SEAT IS TAKEN!! YOU DON’T HAVE TO CHASE ME AWAY!!”

I was flabbergasted of course. Like, what the fuck just happened?? That was when my courtesy went out of the window. I went loud:

“HEY! Did you just say I chased you away?? This isn’t your table to begin with, how is it possible you got chased away?? Didn’t I tell you politely to find another table??”

Old man was taken aback because he didn’t think I would ‘talk back’, because you know, he is old. Things usually go his way because he’s a fucking geriatric, but too bad… I’m not a nice person. He then retorted in a toned down voice before walking off to the next table (like a table-to-table parasite):

“Aiyah! It’s still early in the morning, I don’t want to quarrel with you…” His response was ironic because he was the one who started to yell at us early in the morning. I wanted to castigate him further to lower his self esteem but, what’s the point. He had lived 60 over years to be this skeeve of a person, anything I say will not do him any favor but will only make me look bad for yelling at an old fart (that’s what it’ll look like to everyone). Who knows, someone might whip out a phone and the next thing I know, I might become an internet sensation in the wrong light. So I let him be and he eventually got a seat at the said lone-patron old lady’s table.

That fucking skeevy old man. If my daughter’s here, she would be traumatized. That is why I never liked old people. I think old people are overrated. Just because they’re old, they think they can get away with anything (and most of people are enabling them, by letting them get away with what they want). It’s exactly like spoiling a child – except that old people have way much less innocence. Most of them are rude, ignorant, and like to make scenes for attention. Some really bad ones, would even fabricate stories to discredit their own children or others, just to gain some pity attention. They set bad examples to our children and they fucking disgust me.

But I don’t wave a blanket dislike to all the old people because I know not all of them are skeevy. It’s just that in my code of things, they are always by default a “RETURN FALSE”… and will only get a “RETURN TRUE” when they do/did-not-do something or behave in such way that convince me otherwise.

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