I had to yell at a bunch of kids at a KFC joint today.

It happened at the indoor playground area, when I was looking after Regine. It was all good at the playground until that bunch of obnoxious kids came and started to wreak havoc upon mankind. For the record here, the indoor playground was meant for kids under 10, but those kids that came were like 10 - 12 years old. There were 5 of them in a gang, brought over by this middle aged Chinese housewife in a revolting spaghetti string attire.

They came into the playground and played ‘chase’ - which I didn’t really mind at first, albeit I was a little bit annoyed with the screaming and all. But when they pushed my Regine and made her almost tip over a 4 feet high platform, I snapped (I managed to grab her in time). I mean, can you imagine that? Seeing a 10 year old imp push my 2 year old angel like nobody’s business? Man, I could have tossed that little shit half way across the restaurant. But of course I didn’t do that (I would if it isn’t a crime). Instead, I hissed at the bunch of kids in my best impression of a mean fucker - “HEY! If you guys want to play, play properly, ok??”

A harmless warning with a hint of violence in it. Simple enough for the kids to understand that if they don’t heed my warning, they’re going to have to see the doctor to have chicken bones removed from their rectum. They immediately toned down right after I issued the threat. The spaghetti string housewife was around when I did the hissing, and she didn’t like that a bit. I thought she’d come over to confront me, but she didn’t. She’s probably scared of me or something. Whatever.

But I happened to spot her glowering at me from outside the window pane when she left the premise with her bunch of devil spawns, with the kind of expression like I was a pedophile who almost got a piece off one of them. She then muttered something vulgar (while still glowering at me) and then did what it seemed like she was reassuring her kids that I was just another terrible man from out of town. Not wanting to be left out, I reciprocated her hostility by lip syncing the word ‘BITCH’ and ‘CHEEBYE‘ back at her, which riled her even more… and then she fucking disappeared.

I swear, had she confronted me verbally when she was in the restaurant, I would have taken the liberty to say something really mean to her (since I needed to de-stress very badly lately anyway…), like how she ought to sheath her tits with those black garbage plastic bags to match the sag contour, and how rustic people like her shouldn’t reproduce, lest she would make the human species look bad to the animals. There’s a popular Malay word to describe the kind of people she is - Kurang ajar. Neither she nor any of her kids attempted to apologize for shoving my Regine.

Maybe some of you might say that they’re just kids being kids, but hell, there was actually another group of kids of about the same age before the little devils came. In contrast to the devil kids, the earlier group knew how to be considerate and share, and waited for their turn to play. Most important thing was, they knew how to cut my Regine some slack knowing she’s little and all. They didn’t scream like they’ve lost their fucking mind. And they didn’t run around like the building’s on fire. That’s what I would deem a normal, well taught, regular kid is. And when the little devils came, the first group automatically left. (unfortunately, except my Regine because she’s too little to realize that the hot soup’s pouring over and I couldn’t make her leave).

All in all, it’s just fucking sad to have people like her living amongst us.

I have been frequenting this same hairdresser since I was 17. The lady was my late father’s friend, who was quite hot when I was introduced to her. But not anymore. That’s because time and gravity took that all away from her. She now looks like a bipedal camel wearing a wig, without the fur, of course.

Anyway, I like to patronize her outlet not because of her looks, but because
a) she hasn’t got much customers so, I don’t really have to wait (I’m always the only customer there for the past 14 years)
b) her place has got a big ass space for me to park my car (I’m very anal about parking)
c) she’s the nearest and cheapest hairdresser I can find who could give me a decent trim (she used to charge 3 bucks per haircut. Now, she charges 12 stinging bucks.)

But just the other day, when I went there as usual for my haircut, for the first time in many years, I was made to wait for my turn. Before me was this young chick (who must be in her early 20’s…), having some ’stuff’ done to her hair halfway. I quoted ’stuff’ because I don’t really know what were my hairdresser doing to her hair. The girl obviously wasn’t having a haircut because I didn’t see any scissor or trimmer involved. There were just sticks and heaps of hair gel and hairsprays. The chick also had a friend (who has a pair of hot legs) looking on, and they were retardedly giggling at short intervals.

From what I reckoned, the girl must be preparing her hair for her wedding/engagement banquet, or at least some important event. You know, those weird stuff girls do to their hair. Loops here, twirls there, glitters and sticks everywhere. All out for the kill. The hairdresser told me it’s going to take a while and apologized. I was ok with that since I was kind of having a great time watching legs there. So, I waited.

I must have waited for 15 over minutes before it was finally done. Great, I thought, because my amusement for legs was wearing thin. But it was not over yet. The bride was not happy with some of the twirls, so, the hairdresser had to apply more chemicals to make it look more pubic like (well, that was how it looked to me). After working the twirls for another 5 minutes, the hairdresser held up a few handheld mirrors as a gesture to the girl that the job’s done. Again, the girl didn’t liked it, and this time, she let out an ‘oops’, and said ‘I think I have a right hair parting, but you did me left!’ - and my poor hairdresser had to start all over again with the sticks and hair gel and hairsprays, just so that the bride could have her hair parting changed to the right side. (I was thinking, who gives a crap if it’s left or right hair parting?? and why didn’t she mention that earlier??)

And that was how I waited through for another 20 minutes before it was finally done (for real). I then saw the girl pay like 70 - 80 bucks for the job and left the premise without moving her head (like she was balancing a goddamn beehive on her head). Curious, I then asked my apologetic hairdresser, was the girl getting married or something? To my surprise, my hairdresser said nay, the girl was just attending her friend’s wedding dinner. I was like, ‘WTF????’

Believe it people. That girl spent more than 70 bucks at the hairdresser, for more than an hour, to get her hair done for a friend’s wedding dinner. That’s fucking crazy, don’t you think? It shudders me to think that the girl had to spend so frigging much for something probably of least importance to her anyway. For the record, that’s enough moolah for me to have at least 5 haircuts in the span of 3 years! (I only have my haircut every 4 - 6 months).

Now I know how that hairdresser manage to sustain her business for so many years without really having too much customers visiting… that’s because she has all along been earning ‘chick vanity bucks’, that transcends beyond inflation, recession and comprehension.

I was at this food court ordering yong tou foo. You know what is yong tou foo, right? You should. Anyway, after I have picked my choice of stuffed goodies, I got to the part when I was suppose to tell the guy my selection of soup - which was either the conventional one, or tomyam flavored. I wanted tomyam so, I told the guy -

“I would like the soup to be tomyam please.”

The young Malay chap who was manning the stall gave me this emotionless stare when I told him about my tomyam preference. He did not acknowledge, nor did he show any sign that he heard me so, I repeated my request -

“Errrmm hello? I want my soup to be tomyam flavored.”

Again, no response. I wasn’t very impressed but, I decided to cut him some slack you know, maybe he is a guy of few words or something. So, I thought I’d just wait and see what happens. And indeed, the guy prepared my soup without adding the tomyam stock in it, and my order came out wrong, just as I expected it would. I was pissed of course, because I never liked my yong tou foo plain. It’s either tomyam for me, or never. To compromise is totally out of the question. That was why I had to bitch to him -

“Haven’t I already told you a couple of times just now that I want the soup to be tomyam flavored??”

He looked at me like I was stupid or something, again, with no reaction or whatsoever. It was as if… he could not understand a word I said…

“Hey! Can you hear me?? I - WANT - TOMYAM [point point]. This is not tomyam.”

Then suddenly, an old Malay biddy materializes of nowhere and started yelling at me -

“Mister, please calm down! We only add the tomyam stock into your soup later on!”

The fucking bitch was obviously trying to lie out of the mistake the young chap did. She then scooped a spoonful of raw tomyam stock (paste) into my soup and gave me a ‘See?’ expression. I wasn’t happy about that of course…

“Are you for real?? I thought you’re suppose to boil the soup with the stock! I’ve never seen anyone prepare tomyam like this!”

The bitch rudely replied, while the retard stood there still with that dead look on him -
“Well, that’s our way of preparing it.”

“What a bunch of bullshit. And then this guy, is he deaf or something??”

Then came the shocking truth -
“Yes, he is indeed a hearing impaired person. Please show some respect to people like him. If you want something, talk to me.”

She had me in the balls. I felt guilty as shit. I didn’t expect that guy to be a hearing impaired person. How would I know? He looked just like the many dickheads in the food court manning a counter. And there wasn’t any sign on him saying that he is a hearing impaired person and I should fucking forgive him even if he deliberately kills my dog. Fuck. I hate it when people exploit for advantage with someone else’s disabilities.

And who in their right mind would put a hearing impaired person to man a counter, and taking orders from customers? This is as ridiculous as putting a mute person to be a phone technical support, or a Down syndrome tard to drive a Formula 1 safety car. It just doesn’t fucking make any sense. That fucking bitch, she ought to be put to sleep for all these.

But I decided put the matter to rest, for I am always at the losing end simply because one of them is a disabled person. No matter what the argument is, the outcome will always be the same - that I will be seen as a scoundrel who fucking screamed at a disabled person because I do not like my tomyam, so what’s the point really? I apologized to the unscrupulous duo and left the stall to eat my odd tasting yong tou foo in raw tomyam stock, and swore to never patronize that stall ever again. Ptuiii!

Losers, they can be found everywhere. But to bump into a loser amongst losers, now that’s not something you see very often. I had the chance to encounter one on my way to work this morning. The loser of all losers. The degenerate of all degenerates.

But before I go on describing what happened, please take some time to peruse the picture below…

The loser I was talking about was driving the red car in the picture, a heavily modified old Proton Iswara (you know, with horse power increasing stickers, big menacing spoiler and all). I was driving the dark car. It was raining at that time, and the traffic’s terrible.

As you can see, that loser was trying to squeeze through the narrow space in between lanes, apparently, to shove into location ‘X’. His car was just about half an inch away from brushing my side mirror and I was shit pissed with what he was trying to pull there. I responded by blaring my ultra loud air horn in agitation, and had him stopped in the middle of his maneuver, right when his driver window was opposite my front passenger’s.

I suspected that he must have wanted to confront me or something, but then, he didn’t honk me back, nor did he wind down his window to wave his fist. I reckoned that he couldn’t open his door either, because there was only barely a feet of space between us. So, he just stopped right there. Driver across my passenger’s. Probably was cursing at me, I don’t know, because the tint on his heavily modded junk was too fucking dark for me to see anything inside. But I could tell that there was some movement inside (something’s alive inside, what a surprise!)

About a few seconds later, the queue on my lane moved and I was ahead of him. I kept checking my rear view and side mirror if that fucker was going to get down from his car or something. That was when I saw the window of his rickety junk started to inch down, and then got jammed halfway (no surprise, people… with his car being a Proton and all). He had to squeeze out his skinny ass hand from that small opening of that jammed window to flip me a lame bird (dark skinned - likely a Malay chap), and then to stick it back in to maneuver his car into location ‘X’ (that was an exit lane, by the way. My lane’s to go straight)

So, what actually happened back there was probably like this -
- loser didn’t like me honking him and he stopped beside my car to confront me.
- he wanted to honk me back, but his horn was not working.
- he wanted to wind down his window to flip me a bird, but his window was not working either.
- and when his window finally worked, it got jammed halfway and it wouldn’t go back up.

That was why I think, he deservedly be called ‘the loser amongst losers’. The key take away message is - if you want to flip other people birds, make sure you got a working power window, especially when it is raining.

The time that I was accelerating away from that spot, his car window was still stuck open, and rain was still pouring into his car. That made my day.