Archive for the ‘flashbacks’ Category

August 10, 2016

my hairdressers

Through the years, I’ve had no less than a dozen hairdressers servicing my head before. I change them like how Ted Mosby would change girlfriends.

My first ever hairdresser was of course, my own mom. Mom would strip me naked in the toilet, and cut my hair as she saw fit. As style wasn’t an issue for me yet, I gave very little shit about how she’d want me to look. And I was content with that until I started schooling.

When I started primary school, mom stopped cutting my hair. She instead, sent me to the local Indian barber at the Rifle Range neighborhood – for RM 1.50 per haircut. The place had white tiles, like a fucking toilet. Indian barber would make me sit on a plank that was placed across the armrest of the old as shit barber chair, and cut my hair with a pair of mechanical hair clippers (which mom fondly referred as ‘the crab machine’).

Then when I moved away from Rifle Range, I started to patronize a ‘unisex hair salon’ outlet near my new house. The place was located next to an whorehouse, but was fucking air conditioned and was as hip as shit. The hairdressers there were chicks with cleavage, and it was a far departure from the hairy Indian barbers. They charge RM 5 a pop, including scalp massage and a hair wash. Considered expensive back then, but it was a worthy expenditure for a little style and some tits to ogle at.

About a couple years later, when I got my first bicycle, I ventured further from my home in pursuit of a cheaper haircut and better style (got bored with the ‘whorehouse hair salon’ quickly, especially when they weren’t really that good at giving haircuts). Recommended by a classmate, I found a porcine middle aged housewife who operated illegally at a low cost flat near Batu Lanchang. For just RM 3, the housewife could cater any request including the popular Aaron Kwok hairstyle (hah! try asking an Indian barber to do that, you’d get a ‘wokek’ chide).

And she was goooooood, but there was a problem. She was too popular. Her illegal hair salon was as packed as fuck. Throngs of housewives would flock to her joint every day, sometimes I had to wait for 2 hours to just get a haircut. That was why I ventured a lot of different outlets when I was around 15 – 17 years old. One of them was another illegally operated joint (I don’t know what’s with me patronizing illegally operated hairdressers…) at Macallum Street (had to take a bus there) operated by this terrifying old queer who looked like an overweight Richard Simmons. I only went there once, needless to say. Then I also patronized a hairdressing college near my tuition center. For only RM 2, you could get your hair cut by aspiring hairdressers. Plenty of hot chicks and tits, but the hair job was lousy and took forever (I was once late for my tuition).

I went hither and thither until I had my first motorcycle. My dad introduced me to his friend who started a salon, whose wife was a Thai (the hairdresser). If I had to describe her, I’d say she looked somewhat like that funny manicure/pedicure lady in Legally Blonde (but now she looks like geriatric Snorlax). My dad told me she had a degree from France or something like that, so it did a lot for her credibility then. But most of all, it was just RM 3 a pop, the cheapest haircut I could find then. As a bonus, the place was deserted most of the time, which was perfect for me. I patronized the outlet for many years (yes, it’s the same one I wrote about here), until about 2 years ago, when they increased the hair job to RM 20 a pop (through the years, it was increased from RM 3 -> RM 5 -> RM 8 -> RM 10… so on). That was when the straw broke the camel’s back, and I said – “FUCK IT! I’m going to look for a new joint!”.

That was how I ended up at this chain store of a hairdressing place inside a hypermarket. For RM 16 a pop, it was a better deal for me than Snorlax’s hair job. Operated by 2 and a half women, the place was easily accessible and high tech (they have one of those vacuum machine to clean you up). One was a young chick whom I would refer as ‘warm hands’, because she has warm hands. Like she has high viral fever. Fair skinned and common ah lian lookalike, her styling sucks. She’s my least favorite (I like her hands though). Then there’s this middle aged skinny ass lady whom I’d refer as simply ‘goddamn old aunty’ (‘si lau ee’ in hokkien). She has a talking problem. When asked for a style, she’d go technical like she’s about to write a thesis to cure herpes. She wears this goddamn belt with scissors and clippers (one of them blunt) around her waist, and would switch clipper heads stylishly like it fucking matters. Not surprisingly, her styling sucks too. The best is this tomboy with a long face (hence, the half woman). She might not be a looker, but she has great skills (she looks pale like a terminally ill tuberculosis patient). Of all 3, I like her hair job the most. Quick and nice. Tomboy would be my first choice every time I wanted a haircut there. But the problem is, it all depends on luck because of their stupid rotation system. That’s why I always have to scope around the joint before I walk in, just to double ensure that it is tomboy’s turn. I’ve had hits and misses over the months, for I’ve ended more times getting my hair cut by that ‘goddamn old aunty’ than the tomboy. And to rub salt to the wound, they’ve recently hiked the price to RM 18 a pop.

I’m gonna have to look for another joint soon.

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December 17, 2015

2015 roll up

At the end of 2014, I made a vow for to do all kinds of things. I hate to break this out but, I must be drunk at that time. I don’t even remember what I wrote until today (I was writing in 3rd person, wtf). None of those shit happened. No I didn’t fork out anything to renovate the fucking house. No I didn’t enroll myself in an MBA program. No I didn’t get a bike, or got my shit together either. I didn’t do jack shit in 2015.

2015 is not entirely fucked up but, it sure hell is boring. The pace of life at Company T has been slow as fuck as well. In my ex-Company Y, I was THE SHIT, running 8 – 9 portfolios, had 50 over reports in a week, had round the clock meetings, 10-minute lunches (with on-off food poisoning), multiple concurrent projects and I had to deal with terrorists. Time passed in warp speed. In Company T? It’s like a 900% regression of what I did at Company Y. That’s like switching from a illegal V8 street drifting race to a college USB-powered drone cum science fair. My time management skill is hardly needed and I had to deal with a lot of whiny pussies instead. Life literally is moving in slow motion for me in 2015 and I fucking hated every second of it.

That is probably the reason why I recently have gone back to gaming. It is the only way I could get my mind off on how shitty the year has been. That and tonnes of TV series I’ve been watching. I’d probably go back to more writing, but I have to see on that. I’d been planning on a long vacation somewhere in June 2016, might make it a yearly ritual. But for now, I’m going to just waste the remnants of 2015 away with more gaming and hope for a better 2016.

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November 17, 2015

So Young, so long…

If I were to name one breakfast joint that I regularly visit, it has to be So Young cafe. I’d written about this place a couple of times here in my blog. Sadly, after operating for many decades, the place was closed down last month to pave way for a spa or something.

A few weeks before it got closed down, I made a pilgrimage there for my final meal of breakfast. I picked to have a bowl of Uncle Tony’s flavorful Hokkien Mee (Noodles in prawn soup), a large bowl of Sweet & sour spicy mustard cabbage stew from the chicken rice stall, and a mug of thick coffee with cream there. Like I always did. Every spoonful of food I shoved into my mouth there that day, tasted bitter and down. The people there weren’t as jovial, not as chatty and the atmosphere was gloomy. It was like an impending end of a journey for those people and me that day, along with it, gone will be the acquaintances, the experiences, and memories. They’d seen each other’s kids growing up, and each other grown old, and all that was going away because somebody bought up the place to open a fucking spa. It’s sad really.

Once I’d done with the food, I went around to have a chat with the stall owners, whom I had patronized for years (from my schooling years, to the time I had my first job, to the time I had to bum for 2 months after losing my job, till now). The chicken rice guy gave me a card, told me that he was going to retire from the chicken rice business, and but would concentrate on his night venture of selling seafood at a nearby joint. Uncle Tony, however, will stop selling Hokkien Mee in the morning session, but would still retain his afternoon session at another place, another town (I’ve yet to pay him a visit). The rest will probably look for a place to rent or something.

I left that place feeling real depressed and dispirited, for I know I’m never going to find another place like So Young Cafe. I went past the place the other day, and all the zinc awning extensions were gone, and roller shutter closed shut with no activities going on.

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October 5, 2015

missing

I saw a movie not long ago, featuring Andy Lau looking for his missing (abducted) son. It was an alright movie I guess, although it felt little bit too superficial for me, but it made me recollect of something sad that had happened in my family many years ago. The person of interest, was my first cousin once removed who went missing and was never found.

Her name’s Sharon, and she was also my first tuition teacher. I liked her, not only because she’s hot as hell, but I remembered her as a very nice person who was never angry at me despite being such a menace. Always with a smile, she was a very likeable girl for everyone except my madcap sister, who bit her during a sleepover many years prior (probably envious of her beauty, I guess).

When she went missing, I was about 8 years old. She was in her late teens when it happened. She already started a part time modelling (yeah, she’s that hot) and an intern job then. One day, she left for that intern job like any normal day, and didn’t come home. Mobile phones were pretty much non-existent back then, so the dad (my grand uncle) frantically called up everyone he knew but no one had a clue where she could be. He went to her workplace and no one could offer any clue. It was as if she vanished into the thin air right after leaving work. No ransom, no nothing. So they searched. And it went on for years.

I remembered the posters, the newspapers and the search to the edge of town over random tips from the public. I tagged along with my mom who organized her own search party and went to many places – amongst them, was this desperate attempt to trace her with a Malay bomoh, who did some ritualistic ‘searching’ through a ‘hot candle wax on a bucket of cold water’ portal. Didn’t work, of course. Years went by without any progress, and eventually, both her parents died and she remained missing. Whether she herself is still alive or had long gone from the realms of mortals, remains unknown. If she’s still alive, she must be in her late 40’s by now, probably look misshapen like a whale but most likely still retains her bubbly personality. If she’s dead, then no one will be able to visit her grave, because she has none… and that has got to be the saddest thing ever.

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May 18, 2015

school nowadays – teachers

I can’t help but notice, how lame school teachers have become nowadays.

In my daughter’s school, teachers do not seem to plan what they teach. An example would be the art lessons. More often than not, my daughter was asked to bring some vegetables (potatoes, okra beans, et al) for her carve & print art lessons on the next school day. If you’re a working parent, you should understand how hard that request is especially if the school’s in the afternoon session. Preparation like this involves a trip to the market/hypermart, and being at work you know, kinda impedes that convenience. Why can’t they fucking plan it in advance like say, a week before? How hard is it to plan for something 1 week ahead??

And you might think that this is only about a specific teacher for the art lessons. But no. Her language classes also often require her to print out mundane items like ‘meals of the day’ or ‘animals that have backbones’, to be submitted the next day as a project. How about that? Fucking retarded because it is usually the parents who have to find those pictures/materials and print from the internet. How the hell is that going to help my kid to understand anything? If it is a project, shouldn’t it involve some level of planning and thorough involvement to make it [the project work] look good? And what about those students whose household couldn’t fucking afford a printer or a computer? Back in my schooldays, we had to scour heaps of recycled magazines, put everything together with glue & colored paper. One could seriously tell that efforts were put into our work and anything less than that, will be given a fail.

At first I thought this is just happening in my daughter’s school, you know… like maybe the school is the only shithole. But after calibrating with friends who also have kids schooling, it seems to be a norm nowadays for teachers to ask for last minute prep favors and without proper planning.

This, is not helping my kid to learn about commitment and I’m starting to wonder, if shit is going to get worse from here. I don’t know man. Just, what kind of crap have we been feeding the teachers, that they are like what they are today?

Teachers back during my schooling days used to be a bunch of respected individuals with deep passion for teaching (on top of being badasses, which I’ve written about before). They were tough… yes, madcap… or psychotic even… but one thing that is indisputable about them, is that they teach kosher stuff. They plan what they are going to teach, and they execute their plans well. They’re far from the kind of teachers we see today who do not know what proper planning is like a headless chicken.

So why the hell are we celebrating Teachers’ Day for? Not every teacher deserves that. I say we should fucking 86 the Teachers’ Day, and make it a day for us to fucking tell them what needs to be changed. It would have been actually useful as we’d get some remote chance to make things better, than to appreciate a bunch of shitbags whose overbearing self-glorification knows no boundary.
Naa

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