Archive for the ‘happenings’ Category

November 12, 2014

Arab tourists suck

I was in KL for a day trip on assignment, and met a chatty Indian taxi driver. The long ride in his taxi, got us to talk about everyday stuff – from the GST to Anwar’s butt, but the most interesting of all, our shared hatred for Arab tourists (and what followed after that).

The taxi driver told me his experiences with Arab tourists and he hated them because most of them are assholes. They’d either fleece him off his taxi fare, or they’d scream at his ass for not driving fast/slow enough. Had a couple of police reports to prove it. I couldn’t agree more with him – I’ve always disliked them for being inconsiderate and rude, i.e. assholes. It was as if they’ve been brought up to believe anyone who isn’t an Arab is inferior.

Anyway, it was just a chat to pass time. The last time I actually had an encounter with an asshole Arab was eons ago, until that VERY DAY ITSELF in the airport (after the taxi dropped me off) – believe it or not, I had another incident with the Arabs! (this time, it was a young couple with children).

I was queuing up at Burger King, and saw this skinny fucknut Arab standing at the counter next to the queue checking out the menu displayed behind the cashier. He was pretty much minding his own business there and then walked away. When it came to my turn to order, suddenly this Arab bitch appears right next to me and ordered 2 cheese burgers. Everyone in the queue then (myself included) glowered at the fucking Arab bitch for about a few seconds, before the cashier politely told her that she won’t be served because there’s a queue at the counter. Arab bitch went nuts and claimed that her husband was in front of me in the queue and she was standing in for him. Not knowing who her husband was, I asked

“So who’s your husband? And where is he now?”, I thought, maybe she’s a wacko and has an invisible husband…

She pointed to that skinny fucknut Arab cheebye I saw earlier on. He was standing about 20m away, looking at the roof. I then said to the Arabian bitch,

“No he wasn’t in the queue”, and looked squarely in her heavily eyelined eyes, to which she got intimidated and backed the fuck off… but not without bitching something in her language (a language which sounded like she’s trying to get rid of something stuck in her throat – that’s how I knew she and her fucknut husband are Arab tourists). I wanted to yell at her with my native language (perhaps with a little mix of Tamil to confuse her), but I simply wasn’t in the mood (been a long day for me). So, I just chose to ignore her instead.

I thought that was the end of it, and she’d go queue up or something. But guess what, it happened again to another patron. It appears that this fucking Arab couple does not know how to queue up (like, standing behind a line?)! How fucking ridiculous is that? And after that, they somewhat had a quarrel in the Burger King joint (screaming some high energy pubic-hair-stuck-in-throat language, creating a big scene) and both of them then walked off towards different directions, leaving their 2 confused children inside the place for the whole duration of my meal (that’s about 15 mins). When I left the joint, their children (and bags) were still there. Fucking Arab tourists. Inconsiderate, stupid and reckless.

What are the odds, eh? That’s like you ranting about acne problems back during your puberty years and then WHAM! a big zit appears on your motherfucking nose. Shit happens out of the blues mann…

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July 15, 2014

cave troll neighbor

My neighbors’ kids are scared of me. That’s because I deliberately acted stern and fierce, so that they’d all stay the fuck away from our house. But there was once, a couple of them came to our house, and something didn’t go as expected.

My then 6 year old daughter Regine, brought this little neighbor girl (let’s call her Small Turd, she’s 5 years old) to right next to my computer table. I was watching TV at that time, and it was dark. I didn’t actually know they were at my house, and you can imagine that I was quite surprised to see the silhouette of my daughter and a much smaller child standing at the doorway, one of them crying. It was Small Turd. She was crying with a dreaded look on her (like she’s about to be eaten by a cave troll). Apparently, along with Small Turd’s brother (Big Turd, he’s 7), they had been watching TV at our house, when Small Turd suddenly went Blue Screen and started to wail like she had an infected appendix. My daughter brought her to me because
a) She was between concerned and annoyed with the wailing.
b) I was the only adult available (my wife was bathing or something). She had no choice.

I don’t normally speak to them but I had to…

“Small Turd, why are you crying and what do you want??”

She wailed louder just because the cave troll spoke to her. She must be fucking terrified and I swear she was probably going into the rigor mortis stage alive. Not yielding any answer, I then asked my daughter what’s going on, and she told me Small Turd wanted to go home, but her brother didn’t want to budge from the TV. That was when I stomped out of the room and confronted her brother:

“Big Turd! What’s wrong with you and your sister?? Why is she crying??”
“Err… she wanted to go home while we were watching the TV…”
“Then why aren’t you bringing her home??”
“I already asked her to go home herself, it’s just downstairs…”
“She’s your goddamn sister! What kind of a brother are you?? What if she gets kidnapped by a stranger?? Are you stupid or something??”

He almost shat in his pants, and brought his sister home pronto. Problem solved. Probably would never ill treat his sister ever again, thanks to the cave troll. Never saw them come to our house again, and they’d stay the fuck away from me. They’d sometimes play around the corridor, but always with a hushed volume. My daughter, just to get a kick of seeing them terrified, would sometimes tell them ‘you guys should keep the volume down, or my dad would come out and he won’t be pleased!’.

When that happens, my day is usually made. Seeing them annoying kids terrified and behave themselves…

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March 26, 2012


My workplace has shitloads of Indons, if you can’t already tell by now, given the number of posts I have written about them throughout the year. If one had to ask why, I’d say this has to be part of Company Y’s ‘high level strategy’ on cost saving, because it is so fucking cheap like that.

Anyway, there is this Indon girl who works under the program I’m in. I couldn’t really remember her name well, because when it comes to names, I only allow 8 bit of memory to keep them. Any name that goes beyond 3 syllables, will likely be forgotten by my good self. This particular Indon girl, has a 5 syllable name (or something like that), and covers all the available vowels. That’s why I do not bother, and instead called her ‘Hitam mia…’ (Malay for ‘The dark one’). That of course, was derived from her unusually dark complexion. Hell, she’s darker than one of my ex-classmates who went by the name Darshan Singh, whom I last saw about a decade ago, at an illegal parking lot waving cars.

So, I’d go around referring her as ‘Hitam mia…’. “You ada bagi training sama itu hitam mia?”. “Itu hitam mia kerja malam?” You get the idea. And she’s perfectly fine about that, or so I thought.

A couple days ago, I was attending some issues at the line, when this ‘hitam mia’ appeared out of nowhere sporting this uneven wear of what resembled a thin layer of undercoat water based paint on her face. It was white and it was shockingly hideous. I had to ask…

“Eh, you mia muka apa pasal aa? You taruk bedak aa?”

She coyly looked away, and a colleague of hers overheard me asking that and remarked – indeed this ‘hitam mia’ wore some foundation powder on her face. That colleague also added on, that it was because I had been calling her ‘hitam mia’…

“Oh, so you pakai bedak sekarang, you tarak hitam lagi lar, is it?”

‘The dark one’ then looked at me, about to get furious.

“Kalau tak mau hitam, you kena sapu bedak kat leher, telinga, tangan, kaki juga. Sekarang muka you putih, yang lain semua hitam, lagi teruk lar!”

And then I went on ridiculing her for the next 15 minutes, which totally ruined her day. I guess that would be the last time she ever wear bedak on her face…

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July 21, 2010


I was having my lunch with a bunch of workmates when a clueless dolt colleague (a male) asked me a silly question,

“Hey Michael, do you have any idea which part of the cow is the rib-eye?”

A cow has many parts with specific names and only 2 are known to me. ‘Edible’ and ‘inedible’. ‘Edible’ is like, the meat part, and ‘inedible’ is parts like hooves, horns, bones, etc. So obviously, it was a mistake to ask me because I don’t give a shit which part of the cow is rib-eye, sirloin or groin, as long as it is meat and it is edible. But I was trying to be creative with my reply, and shot him this,

“It’s the dark and wrinkled region between the cow’s penis and nutsack.”

Imagine that in Hokkien, with luncheow and lamphar. That was what I said.

It was meant to be a sarcastic reply but I totally forgot that my manager also brought a female guest and she was just sitting right beside that colleague (how could I miss her, escapes me), and she heard everything I said. *facepalms*

My colleague tried to discreetly alert me about her being right next to him and that was when I went ‘Oh shit!’, and braced myself for a potentially career threatening situation. Luckily, she took it well and let out a sporting laugh. But still, ‘PHEW!’. It could have been tragic if the female guest was an asshole and went to our HR to lodge a complain.

What a stupid boner. This wasn’t the first time I got into shit like that.

michaelooi  | happenings  | 6 Comments
July 13, 2010

italian connection

My wife Emily and I went to an Italian restaurant. We ordered a set lunch, a pizza and a mug of caramel coffee. It was a good lunch.

When we’re enjoying the food, I joked about how nice it would be if the restaurant owner were to come over to tell us that our meal was prepared by some handicapped people in their charity-based establishment, and we’re already doing them an honor by eating the food and therefore everything will be free out of their sheer gratefulness…

Fast forward 30 minutes later, we decided to call for the bill. I didn’t look at the bill (my bad habit), and just gave the waiter my credit card. When the receipt came later (after I paid), Emily checked on the receipt… turned to look at me in a wide-eyed expression and said “I think there has been a mistake…”

Apparently, the cashier (or whoever the chick behind the counter was) had erratically punched the wrong amount for our set lunch. There was a missing digit on its unit price – instead of RM19.90, the cashier punched RM1.90. That was when the ‘charity’ joke started to eerily waft into my mind…

What would you do if you were to be in my shoes? And what do you reckon we did next?

michaelooi  | happenings  | 23 Comments