September 23, 2013

give way


Give way to royalty, VIPs, road users told
GEORGE TOWN (Sept 22, 2013): A Cabinet minister has urged road users to give way to outriders escorting royalty or VIPs, as doing so was part of Malaysian culture.

Domestic Trade, Co-operatives and Consumerism Minister Datuk Hasan Malek said this was because those being escorted had official duties to carry out and needed to get to their destination in time.

“I have received complaints that when our Rulers pass, road users just don’t give way.

“We must put a stop to this, showing respect to our leaders is part of our culture,” he said in a press conference today.

Although noting that road users only needed to give way to ambulances and fire engines by law, Hasan reiterated that giving way to outriders should be part of the local culture.

What pisses me off, is what this Datuk Hasan was trying to imply – that whatever the ‘VIP’ or ‘royalty’ officially does, is always more important that what we commoners do. Even if it’s just a round of golf at a country club. Ergo, it can only be right that we give way to them, so that they can get to their destination in time [sic] – we’re all not important.

In my book, that’s called blatant discrimination. You want me to give way? Be in an ambulance.

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September 17, 2013

the fat prefect

School prefects. Never liked them. I think they’re an embodiment of evil. Born losers and closet backstabbers, they often have nowhere to go to satisfy their ill whims – so they became prefects. Some would just be a wretched prefect, but some would get a whole new level lower by becoming the teacher’s pet and be in the background to discredit everyone he dislikes. Fucking hated them and still hate them now.

In my early secondary years at school, there was this fat prefect whom I particularly loathed the most. Guy looked like a total loser, had a comb-over and was a particularly strict motherfucker. God knows how many times I was nitpicked by him for I was quite a sleazy boy in my early years. I swear I once swore about wanting to kill this guy before, that was how deep my hatred for him was. A known teacher’s pet, he never seem to have any friend, because I had never seen him hanging out with anyone before. All the time, rain or shine, you’d see this blimp perching around somewhere gazing like an owl (he actually looked like that) at everyone like he’s born to be a predator to conduct an ‘arrest’ when someone doesn’t live up to the ‘code’ (you know, tidy hair, uniform, shirt tucked in, long fingernails, talking in the corridor – come think of it, none of those make any sense…).

So what about him? I kinda forgotten about him through my secondary years, as he finished school much earlier than I did as a senior, until I moved into my apartment 11 years ago. There’s this fucking fat prefect, married with a bunch of obnoxious kids, living at the apartment block right across my balcony (the irony). He seem to do quite well for himself, owns 2 cars with identical plate numbers and a fucking loud wife bigger than him. Although I still do not know what he does for a living, he seems to have this penchant for Taoist rituals – for I can see from my balcony that his house is full of those figurines of Taoist deities and a darkened ceiling from the excessive incense smoke. On and off the time of the year, he’d organize a ritual with gongs and cymbals to appease his deities and it’s an unbecoming sight / noise to everyone who lives here. (I was so tempted to shush him, like how he did it to us at school)

But that’s not the worst thing about him. It’s his wife. Funny that he lived almost a quarter of his life catching others not to be a sleaze or talk in the corridor, and he actually managed to find someone so uncouth like his wife. I mean, he could have used the senses he developed as a prefect over the years for a more careful selection, but I guess he failed at that. His wife is a disaster. I could hear his wife sneeze about 5 times in the evening everyday, if she’s not screaming obscenities at her (his) kids (the noise would reverberate across the whole block, not making this up). His wife was extremely fat, and looked like an embodiment of all evil, probably pummeled him up on and off, or when he’s not up to her ‘code’ – of you know, being sensitive to her lardy ass and not be such a fucking disappointment. I guess that’s probably why he turned to the myriad of Taoist deities for help, because that’s his only hope now… banging gongs and cymbals to exorcise whatever demon that has been possessing his wife that makes his life oh so motherfucking miserable. Karma’s definitely a bitch for him, in the form of his wife… I’d say, he deserved it.

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September 1, 2013

asswipe loser

Callow Gen Y colleagues in their early 20s. I have many of them in Company T. Some good some bad. But the worst of the lot, by sheer ill of luck, happens to be in my team. (Fuck me)

23 years old, the guy looks like he has been spending too much time in front of the mirror and at the gym, joined in about a year ago as a fresh graduate trainee (about a month after I’ve joined Company T). He had his hair styled like half David Beckham and half Ronaldo of Portugal, he thinks he looks awesome (or at least it appears to be). But deep inside that turgid head with fancy hairstyle of his, are nothing but filth and mud that are probably good only for lifting multiple dumb-bells and occasional hard-to-understand semi-murmurs of what seem to be an attempt to communicate that he has to repeat a few times to make any listener comprehend.

I learned from my other colleagues, that this piece of walking disaster shit was purportedly hired because he has an excellent academic records of some sort, but I seriously doubted that claim. If a person of his caliber (or the lack of it) is considered ‘smart’ by any definition in existence, then my balls must be a genius for just having a wrinkly sack around them. Believe it or not, a year after he joined as a fresh graduate trainee, he still hasn’t got any clue what’s he doing. In fact, he’s been getting more confused as the time progresses. Academically excellent!? My ass!

From what I managed to gather from my own observation, the guy seems to have this mentality that he’s still in college – where everything is spoonfed to him like he hasn’t weaned off his mother’s teats. Whenever he is confounded with problems, instead of using his own competency to resolve them (and therefore, learn in the process), the guy would stop dead in his tracks and wait for someone else to solve his shit for him. I’ll quote a couple of examples:

– There was once he was tasked to install an utility for a USB port programmer. He was given a URL to download the installation file. Guess what happened? He downloaded the file, and asked what he should do with it. Had to tell him how to fucking install it. Then after installation, he asked what to do with the USB programmer. “You see this sole USB connector on the programmer? Where do you reckon it should be plugged into?”

– I tasked the guy to strip some insulation off some blue wires with a wire cutter for some jumper rework chores. The guy spent the whole morning CUTTING the wires, and only came to me for advice when he realized he wasn’t doing it right. “You don’t fucking know how to strip insulation off a wire??”. Had to show him.

And many more. As if it’s not bad enough, he’d also been sleeping on the job, watching sissy ass Korean dramas from his iPhone during working hours, shirking off in the office Facebooking and spending most of his time chatting on IM with his similarly retarded friends. There was once I tried to teach him something about the job (which is weird, considering the fact that I joined just 1 month earlier than he did), he interrupted me halfway to install some software with his notebook. I had to tell him to stop being such a disrespectful prick, to which he responded with a snigger.

So what do I do with this piece of useless asswipe loser junk now? I think I’m going to propose for him to get an axe in his next review. Hate to do this but, he has to go.

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August 12, 2013


There is this teenage nephew of mine who hitched my ride back to his hometown for a few times, whenever I send my wife/kid home (same hometown). He is a quiet and very reserved fellow, with a strong BO and snored very loudly in all the journeys. But I had no problem with him, until recently.

I found out that this nephew recently ‘expressed his dissatisfaction’ with the way I drive to his mom, who is my wife’s elder sister. I was allegedly, ‘cursing too much when I drive’, which I assume stressed out that impertinent brat of a nephew of mine. His mom then one day, conveyed her ‘concern’ to my wife when she was having a casual family chat, with a hope that I was going to repent and change, so that her son won’t be so stressed the next time when he hitches a ride home. o__O”

You should know where this is going. I was flipped out when my wife told me about it. Yes indeed, I curse when I drive (but never with profanities, mind you). That’s how I deal with the stress on the road, and it has been like this since I started driving at age 17. But that’s not the whole point. The point is, WHY DOES HE HITCH MY RIDE AGAIN AND AGAIN, IF HE’S SO SORE ABOUT THE WAY I DRIVE?? Just don’t hitch lah! I didn’t force him to ride with me. Like, he could have chosen to take a bus instead, I’m sure he would love the convenience, or the bus driver. I’m sure I could do better without him snoring loudly in my car, and for taking up the space which I could have used for my daughter to nap on (the very reason I bought a bigger car).

You see, I don’t expect him to like my driving. Or me either. I don’t really give a flying fuck about what this loser feels about anything at all because I’m not his driver, and I don’t care. He’s allowed to hitch a ride home in my car because we happen to be related through my conjugal relationship with my wife, and not really by choice. I would send him home safely right to his doorstep because of this accidental relationship (it’s a fucking privilege for him, in my point of view and he just violated it), for unlimited number of times – doesn’t matter – because that’s what a responsible adult would do for a nephew who needs help when studying out of town. And look what this chode did to repay my kindness… He conveniently ranted to his mom about being stressed when hitching a free ride home like a bitch, which ironically, doesn’t seem to be congruent with the fact that he had been sleeping so soundly all the way (albeit apnoetic in nature) like he’d been shot with an elephant grade tranquilizer on every fucking trip I did with him. And the mom? Instead of smacking her kid on the head for being such an ungrateful turd, went around her circle of siblings to make a topic of interesting discussion about MY WAY of driving, and opined that I should stop being myself because she and her kid didn’t like it (well, fuck me). And I shudder to think that all of these bollocks are stemmed from the fact that I was just trying to be nice. How about a little gratitude, by shutting the fuck up and appreciate all the little things made convenient for you, you little fuckstain??

I’m starting to dislike being nice to people. You can best bet that this nephew of mine won’t get a ride from me ever again.

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July 28, 2013


There’s one acronym that I’ve learned at Company T which I find really meaningful (amongst the heaps of unmeaningful stuff I’ve learned) – it’s called BKM. Now it may sound vulgar to those of you Chinese ed farts who know some Hokkien (Bu Ki Ma), but it isn’t what you think it is. BKM, in Company T, actually stands for ‘Best Known Method’. It is often used to describe tricks or maneuvers – both conventional and unconventional – that are proven effective to get you out of some shitstorm.

“Dude, what’s BKM to override this motherfucking security thing? How did you circumvent last time?”

You get the idea.

Today, I’m about to share a BKM that I’ve learned after a night out with my bunch of single digit IQ drinking buddies, the BODs. Long story cut short (silly antics we did, not to be shared), I ended up having my brand new HTC One dying on me after drinking with them. At first, the phone had this intermittent connection issues and then it went away. The morning after, I discovered that it couldn’t be charged at all, and upon closer examination, I noticed there were water droplets inside the phone’s camera lens – that was when it dawned on me that the phone must have had some water seeped into its circuit and was fucked up because of it. My best bet at that time, was to power the fuck off, get rid of the moisture the best I can, and hope that it would work normal again.

So I did what most panicky doofuses would – I blow dried my phone with a fucking hairdryer. It didn’t work. Well, the water droplets would temporary disappear from under the lens when the phone got hot, but would return promptly when it went back to room temperature. And the charging problem was still there. After cussing my friends through the group discussion in Whatsapp, I cooled my mind and did a search on how to effective rid the phone of water and moisture without having to take it apart. Why? Because this is HTC One, and it has a unibody aluminium construction. It doesn’t have any user removable screws to have it taken apart just like that. It would’ve been easy for me if it can be taken apart, because I could have sun dried the whole damn thing in parts and have all the moisture removed promptly.

The search came up with a list of things that can be done, and there’s this odd BKM that came up quite a number of times – to bury the whole phone into a sack of uncooked rice grains, leave it overnight and all moisture will be gone. I was like, WTF?? half suspecting that it could be an old wives’ tale. But it was easy though, and all I got to do is find out myself. So, I was between choosing this idea and leaving the phone intact under the sun that day – but because it wasn’t very sunny that afternoon, I opted the rice burial solution. I took a ziploc bag, and filled it with as much rice as I could, then buried my phone into it and have it sealed with the lock. To give it a good measure, I dumped the whole thing into my electronic dry cabinet (for my cameras), with the Rh set as low as possible. And left the about-to-turn-paperweight phone in there for 24 hours.

The verdict? It’s not an old wives tale. IT WORKS! RICE BURIAL IS DA SHIT! Not only have the droplets gone, but the phone’s back functioning like it was before. So, to those of you who wanted to get rid of moisture out of your phone without taking it apart, you can actually consider the rice burial BKM (or better still, substitute with desiccant if you have them).

I was thinking, what would happen if we were to tie a small bag of rice around a dog’s nose – would the dog go drinking water like crazy the whole day because of the loss of moisture? *terrible idea looming…*

Burning House

Who would have thought this bag of rice would save my phone from getting bricked?

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