Archive for the ‘thoughts’ Category

December 20, 2004

aging sux

I inadvertently caught this Chinese talk show on TV today, where they kinda showed some veteran singers’ younger days’ photos. They’re like reliving their nostalgic moments of being young and beautiful, you know, that type of shit.

It should somehow be a beautiful program. But instead of that, I felt completely the opposite. I was traumatized by the entire show. Traumatized by witnessing how natural aging could do to someone as beautiful as them.

Take for example, one of them XXXL sized ladies, who used to be a bright eyed model, now looks like Jabba the Hutt without its on-screen make up. And another guy, whose name is Joe Junior or something, had turned from a baby faced Eurasian hunk into a piece of dehydrated junk.

The very sight of them made me shudder at the thought of myself getting old. If aging could make those pretty faces expire in that magnitude, what then could happen to us normal looking people?

Or simply, how would I look like when I’m old? Will there be any grey hairs on my head?… that is, if there’s any hair at all? Will I still be able club like how I love to? Questions… they are disturbing.

Disturbing because they somehow make me less worried about today, but perplexed about what could happen tomorrow. Not that I don’t know about the effects of aging before this, but, do I really need to be reminded in such a conspicuous and ‘direct’ way?

Damn, they should have censored shows like this on TV (instead of porns), you know, for causing such an emotional wreck in us. At least porns make us appreciate the human body more…

michaelooi  | thoughts  | 8 Comments
November 26, 2004

random thoughts

Sometimes, I wonder why do we need to have kids in our life. You know, they cost money … lots of it. And after that round of innocent stick up, you’ll get additional things to worry about.

About a little guy who will poo whenever or wherever he feels like doing it. And will not bother to ask properly when he’s hungry. He’ll wake you up in the middle of the night, and makes your wife out of shape.

A little deeper into hell, that little guy learns how to run, and start to break things up. He will scream like hell and your headache will never quell.

Just as you thought it couldn’t be any worse than that, the little guy grows up and begins schooling. From that day onwards, you will have to constantly worry about his academic well being and about him with that gang of purple colored teenagers that smoke weed and anything that has the color of a cow dung.

Damn, and fast forward a few mad years later, the little guy will tell you that he’s of legal age to have his own vehicle (that’s also when you realize that he’s not prepubescent anymore) and WHAM ! more money for his motorcycle. And you start to worry that he’ll become someone like MichaelOoi. (or if a ‘she’, you’ll worry that she’ll met some guy like MichaelOoi.)

Then his tertiary education… which is going to chomp out a big percentage from your savings and there goes your dream of changing your old chugging automobile into a new one. And you thought that’s the last straw of your spate of predicaments. But no. Until when the big cocky guy builds up his career and marries a bitch – who will not hesitate to throw your wrinkled ass into old folks home, so that they can make passionate sex all day long without having to worry about the old man.

Then you’ll eventually die of old age, giving him everything without gaining anything back.

The effects and aftermath of SEX is one hell of a deadly suffering. No doubt about it.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | 21 Comments
September 9, 2004

the plague

Speaking of boobies – I do not know why we guys are so crazy about boobies. I mean, aren’t they just a couple lumps of fat tissue growing out of a human chest? Well, if they were to grow anywhere else than the chest area, these big pieces of… tissue…. would have gone under the knife and categorized as ‘a ridiculously piece big tumor’. No shit.

What kind of sick magic that caused us males to fall under this deep and foul spell for so many thousands of years? Scientifically, we do not need to knead tits to fuck… right? Look at other mammals, they don’t stroke their partner’s mammary glands to help them to have sex. They just shove it in and reproduce. We humans don’t do that. We’re like a deviation from the laws of nature.

The sight of it alone could induce increased heartbeat, metabolism rate and body temperature. On some known cases, it could even induce an uncontrollable saliva overflow and spasmodic seizure of the male organ – depending on level of sight exposure. It’s damn spooky I tell you.

I wonder what could be the scientific explanation behind this. Could those bags of fat tissue contain some kind of biological transmitter that broadcasts some airborne electrical impulses that stimulates the male’s brainwave – instigating it to become excited or aroused? Or is this simply some kind of voodoo magic? Are the aliens behind this? We don’t fucking know.

But what I know is, this plague seems to be getting worst. Especially in the 21st century, where plastic surgeons started to become very adept in transforming flat chested women into Playboy centerfold equivalent goddesses. And with the technology getting more advanced each day, in no time, getting a boob enlargement process would no longer require a surgeon anymore. It would probably be available in every small medical facilities – government hospitals, clinics, or maybe some side deal in a dental clinic. Imagine this:

dentist : “Well, 50 bucks to remove that ailing tooth. But I’m gonna give you a good discount for enlarging your boobs – 100 bucks for everything.”

Or even more extreme, in some Chinese pharmacy as well.

sinseh : “Boobs enlargement? How big? That would be 10 bucks please. Remember not to take cold drinks for 10 days after that”

Or perhaps some coin operated boob enlargement machine inside a grocery store – just insert both boobs into 2 designated slots and customize size accordingly.


michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
August 25, 2004

my ex past-time

Back in the 90’s, being a teenager was a totally different thing from today. We had no personal computers and no porns to surf. Definitely no chat rooms, no ICQs nor any sort of messenger program. Heck, not even SMS. Cell phones back then was so fucking big that it could literally kill a dog when it was being hurled at the animal.

Imagine how boring it was, to be surrounded by 4 walls with nothing but a roll of toilet tissues. Goddamn. Being a teenager used to be like a prisoner. Overflowing hormones, menacing acnes (although I had a lot of fun squeezing them) and developing body (was kinda freaked out when I first discovered pubes growing around my dick). It was like a ballooning effect. The pressure in me was building up to the boiling point.

I was in dire need to socialize with girls. Very desperately. That was when I found just the perfect way to do that. Pen friends. Ooh yeah. There were herds of them whoring themselves on pages of magazines and newspapers, waiting to be harvested. I could not actually remember exactly when I wrote the first letter, but I can very well remember the criteria that I set for my targets –

nice name
same age
must be a girl

My first letter was a lame one. It went like this

“Hi, my name is michaelooi. My hobby is collecting stamps and reading books. I saw your name in the Find A Friend section and decided to write to you. I think you’re hot and I want to shove my …”

Ok, I made up the last sentence. I sent about 5 – 6 letters out on my first try and got only a couple of replies a few days later. Boy, words could not describe how excited I was when I received the first reply. So damn excited that I skipped my dinner to draft out a perfect reply to my new pen friend. Damn lame, I know. But considering the fact that I was in the Paleolithic age back then, it was a pretty cool hobby. Licking stamps were as fun as watching zombies explode.

Over the years, I managed to correspond with a few pen friends, most of them were hot chicks except one, who was kinda fat. But then, I could be wrong about the rest as well, because I never got to verify if they were really hot – as I did not eventually meet any of them. They could have sent me some fake pictures, I wouldn’t know.

So, do I still communicate with letters presently? Yes. Sending checks to banks, sending forms to income tax office, that sort of shits. I’ve also fully switched my mail correspondence to 100% email. Instead of receiving letters from itchy girls, I receive more mails on porn (from friends), jokes and business proposals from some motherfucking retarded African conmen.

It’s a wonder how a life can change.

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off
July 25, 2004

last name

I once get to know that some people’s last name actually originated from their ancestry profession…. like :

Richard Carpenter (a carpenter)
John Hunter (a hunter)
Dan Farmer (a farmer)
George Bush (a whore)

During the ancient times, you can tell what a person does for a living by just looking at their last name. Kinda awesome, isn’t it ?

As you probably have also noticed, all of them were professions that existed for thousands of years. And that kinda makes me wonder, what if we were to do the same for the current modern professions … you know .. making our last name to reflect what we do ? Here’s some example of what it would sound like :

John Gynaecologist
John Politician
John Gigolo
Judy Stripper
Judy Prostitute
Judy Housewife

Not a very good idea, isn’t it ? Especially hard to lie to your parents in law if you’re into vice occupations … like pimping or selling condoms…

michaelooi  | thoughts  | Comments Off