Archive for the ‘experiences’ Category

September 19, 2011

passions of kerala sucks donkey cock

I went to one of my favorite banana leaf Indian food joint the other day with wife. It was one of the very rare occasions when my wife and I could eat in peace without our 5 year old daughter asking us shitloads of questions. So we made the outing count, and chose to have dinner at one of our favorites – Passions of Kerala of Gelugor- which was also conveniently near my place, and which we hadn’t gone for quite a long time.

But everything was fucking wrong that day. It started with a treatment of cold shoulder. Gone were the usual greet of friendliness and instead, we were rudely warned beforehand (upon entering the joint) that the restaurant was busy, and we had to wait for quite a while. It didn’t concern us that much so, we decided to wait for it. After about 5 minutes, a middle aged Indian lady came over and hastily took our order (with an annoyed look), which was fine. And we waited somemore, for about another 5 minutes, before our rice was served.

Then came this skinny fuck who asked me in something rather unintelligible. When I asked skinny fuck to repeat, he said:

“Curry, what curry you want? Fish or chicken?”

So I replied “Chicken curry”.

Then he gestured ‘no’ with his hands. Ran out of chicken curry, he said.

“So then, what else do you have?”

“Only fish curry”

That was so fucking stupid. I was so tempted to ask, why did he have to ask then, if fish curry was the only thing he had?? I mean, he could have said so like “I’m sorry bro, we only have fish curry, do you want fish curry?” or something like that. But no, he had to be like a total dickhead.

So I went with the stupid fish curry, which by the way, tasted like crap. In fact, it was the crappiest fish curry I’ve ever tasted. I mean, I could have stirred in a pack of cheap curry powder with my piss, it would have tasted better. But that’s not all of it you know, for the attitude of the Indian lady was the worst of the lot. Apart from having the murderous look of a pissed cunt who just had her clitoris clipped in a door jamb, the bitch went on ranting how she fucking ran out of cabbage because the motherfucking customers had too much of them. Can you believe that?? It was like a doctor ranting to you how pissed he is looking at sick people all day…

And then she went on to bicker with her co-workers in Tamil about some customer shit, which kinda sounded like they weren’t too thrilled to serve the patrons or something like that. The experience was so unpleasant, that I swore in my mind about a few hundred discriminatory things that I could think of right there and then. We fucking left the place after having the crappiest dinner ever, but not without being slapped with a stiff bill – 32 bucks for all of those fucking shit, and heavily watered down lassi that tasted like cibai. I paid the pukimak bitch a note of 50 with a small change of 2, but she rudely claimed it was already keyed into the registered, and threw back all the small change (mine and the bill’s) on the counter.

So, what was the tally of the damage? Everything. Bad parking, expensive food (which I didn’t mind back when the food was still good), crappy food, stinking attitude, stupid waiters. I mean, what more could one ask in a restaurant? Unless you want to get your shit ruined for real, I’d say, stay out of this joint – Passions of Kerala. The place sucks donkey cock. It used to be a good place to dine, but not anymore. Go whiff a pack of curry powder instead, it would probably be a better deal.

The place has since returned back to its former glory. The fucked up Indian cibai workers are no longer there, and was replaced with a few hardworking and awesome (which I believe) Nepalese young servers. The food is now back to being awesome, albeit still expensive, I’d say it is now one of my most preferred places to eat in. :-)

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July 11, 2011

small town boy

A nephew came to the city the other day with his parents. Small town boy, not very familiar with the pace of the urban society in this part of the country, and going through some cool-with-an-attitude phase of life due to puberty.

He was at the mall with the family on that particular day, and got lost (he’s 13, by the way). I don’t exactly know how it could happen to a 13 fucking year old, but I imagined that it probably happened when he got too engrossed in checking out some skimpy clothed girls at the mall, that he forgot he had a set of parents. By the time he realized that the asses weren’t for his tapping in the real world, it was already too late. Mom and dad were gone and nowhere to be seen.

For you and me, this is nothing but an all too common thing, right? But not for my nephew. To him, that was like missing the last spaceship back to Earth at a planet in another solar system. He got no cell phone on him at that time (which, he conveniently left at his home planet, about 150 million light years away) so, the communication’s nil, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was, he didn’t have any identification nor money on him. So naturally, the only thing left for him to do was to FREAK THE FUCK OUT and started to frantically search for his parents, with tears on the verge of pouring out of his eyes (strangely, his hormones wasn’t working all too well at that time… his cool factor dropped a dozen notches almost instantly)

But that little turd was lucky though, because he found his parents soon enough before he started to wail like someone killed his dog. Had he searched his parents at the opposite wing of the mall building, things would have gotten more complicated that would involve some trauma, and embarrassment that would scar him for the rest of his adolescent life. But then, I reckon it would probably do that kid a lot more good if that were to happen. The katak eventually has to know the world outside his tempurung, and this will be a good opportunity.

It’s surprising to me that this guy doesn’t bring his cellphone when he has one. It’s distressing to know that kids nowadays do not see a cellphone as a communication device that could be useful in times of emergency, like this. They see cellphone as a device to check the status of their friends’ Fashion Ville empire or kill time with that tulanjiao game (Angry Birds in Hokkien, learned this from dSaint). Or at least, he should have a few bucks in his pocket, so that he could make a call to his parents’ cellphones! (that is, if he even knows his parents’ numbers). He could have been unlucky that day and got thrown into prison for not having an identification on him (Malaysian law enforcement is known to do that, what more with the recent dumbass Bersih crack down).

That is why my Regine was made to memorize my wife’s cellphone number and our home address at the age of 4 (that was last year). This year, she’s probably going to learn tae-kwon-do. Kids need to be savvy nowadays, and freak-the-fuck-out is not an option. I hope my nephew would be more savvy after this episode. He has to.

michaelooi  | experiences  | 4 Comments
May 8, 2011

proof that common sense is not common – 5

We were at the mall buying this pair of expensive shoes of mine. The lady who manned (or womanned) the shop asked when we were about to pay, if any of us (my wife and I) is from outstation. Curious, my wife asked her why would she want to know that. Apparently, the mall has this special program of giving a 10% discount to whoever that is not from Penang. All the person got to do, is prove the ‘outstationness’ by producing an identification card or a driver’s license to apply for this ‘out-of-town’ discount card for selected shops. Fair enough.

So my wife gave the shop assistant her driver’s license – which has her old address from Perak – and which we thought would be sufficient to prove (beyond any doubt, beside having a ’08’ code in her MyKad number). Then the shop assistant took my wife’s license to the mall’s information counter to apply for the discount card meant for ‘out-of-town’ patrons while we waited in the shop. About a 5 minutes later, the shop assistant came back and told us, it was rejected because my wife’s driver license has expired!

Now think about it a minute, what fucking difference does it make if my wife’s driver’s license is expired or not? So if her driver’s license is expired, she’s not from Perak aaa? What the fuck?

And that was what I said to the shop assistant. She just shrugged and told us it was the mall’s policy.

I guess that’s what happens when you hire the wrong kind of people to do the job. I believe this was originally planned to encourage more outstation folks to shop at the mall. But instead of creating a positive experience, it created quite the opposite effect by being so anal like that. Short of providing some photos, one could have mistaken that he/she’s actually applying for a fucking passport!

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April 20, 2011

accident

This morning. My car. BAM! A motorcycle.

It was awesome. I have always DREAMED of sending a motorcyclist flying, and it finally happened today. Though it wasn’t intentional, but the experience was as gratifying as I imagined it would be.

It was an all too common case of a motorcyclist being a consummate idiot. I’ve encountered them doing maneuvers that are beyond comprehension thousands of times before, but all they got was a treat from my super loud air horn. The guy I sent flying this morning however, was a bit unlucky. He got both my air horn, and my bumper.

It happened after I made my move when the light went green, and at about 10 meters’ mark, the motorcyclist suddenly appeared 2 feet in front of me from my blind spot, cutting diagonally across my path. The result? Him flying about 3 – 4 feet away and landed on the tarmac. I got down from my car to have a look and saw this middle aged scrawny guy who resembled a goblin – sitting on the road with this confused look (he didn’t know what hit him). I then did a quick assessment

– motorbike, although still pinned under my car, looked fine. Just a bent mirror.
– My car bumper, fine – just some minor scratches.
– The goblin guy – fine too. He wasn’t dead nor writhing in agony.
– the traffic – not fine. It was starting to pile up from behind.

So I decided to settle things like, pronto. First, I helped him to get up on his feet and asked him a series of questions :
“Are you alright? What were you thinking? Were you trying to kill yourself? Are you drunk? Are you sleepy? etc”

He only answered he was alright but stayed silent on the rest of my questions. He then told me to let him get his shit together for a short while and stood there like a stump (I reckoned that he probably wanted to ask for a compensation for the accident). So while waiting for him to ‘get his shit together’, I dragged his junk motorcycle out from my car, put the damn thing on neutral (the idiot was already on his 4th gear – that means he didn’t stop at all) and dragged it out of my car’s way. Then I instructed the guy to pick up his stuff including his pair of sandals (they were at 2 different locations) and told him – “Now if you want to get your shit together, do it by the roadside there. Don’t fucking block the traffic. You’re lucky you didn’t die today because I wasn’t doing fast enough for it to happen.” It’s true. If the light was green all the way, I would have gone faster, and he would have transformed from a goblin into a goblin burger patty. And that’s not going to be cool.

I then got into my car, and he slowly rode off. Not a single fuck was given that morning.

michaelooi  | experiences  | 7 Comments
April 5, 2011

the shit that people believe…

Just the other day, a relative of mine related about a certain ‘miracle’ product which purportedly would psychologically affect one to become a more positive person. And the product comes in the form of an audio CD – a compilation of various sounds which was to be played during the bedtime.

So in their frantic bid to make their kids smarter, that relative set up a centralized sound system in all their bedrooms, so that they could broadcast the content of the miracle CD at night during their bedtime.

Bad idea.

I was visiting the other day and had to spend a night in one of their guest rooms. Guess what? The weird motherfucking sounds (mixture of whales calling, waves splashing and gaudy gypsy melodies) woke me up no less than a dozen times that night and gave me nightmares! I forgot what I actually dreamed about but, I remember waking up to the sounds thinking some asshole’s cellphone went off and wanted to beat the crap out of that fucker – which ironically, didn’t seem that ‘positive’ to me at all.

The shit that people believe… No wonder there are so many fucked up kids nowadays.

michaelooi  | experiences  | 8 Comments