September 30, 2012

oh shit

My 6 year old daughter Regine came back from her nursery one day and told me she wanted a pet rabbit. That was when I went – Oh shit. You see, I am never fond of rearing an animal as pet. I think it’s cruel. And also, I do not believe that animals and humans can (should) co-habit together under one roof.

So with a feigned concerned look, I held my daughter and looked at her in the eyes and told her this – “Regine, do you really think a rabbit would be happy to live here with us?”

She didn’t respond – positive sign. I pressed further.

Me: “A rabbit that lives here in our apartment will become a sad rabbit, without its friends and relatives. It will be alone.”

Regine: “We can keep 2 rabbits then!”

Oh shit x 2. Should have seen that coming. Contingency maneuver.

Me: “What about space? You think they’re going to be happy in a cage? It’s like being in a prison.”

Regine: “…”

Me: “It will have to poo and sleep in that cage, while you’re at school and we’re all at work. Lonely, sad rabbit”

Regine: “…”

Me: “A rabbit is not a toy, it’s a living thing. It’s cruel to keep a rabbit in a cage and watch it go sad.”

Regine: “…”

Me: “Can I buy you a soft toy rabbit instead?”

I was offering a solution to the problem. A soft toy rabbit.
a) It’s as cute as a real rabbit, if not cuter.
b) Doesn’t need feeding, and doesn’t poo.
c) It can stand neglect, and you can fucking machine wash it.
d) Most important of all, it lives forever (the kid won’t get sad over the death of a pet)

I thought it was a brilliant counter proposal, but that was when my daughter played the crying card. Tears started to roll down her face. She wasn’t even wailing, but just tears in utter silence. It was the most heart wrenching kind. For me, it simply meant – Oh shit x 3 – and I caved in.

Me: “Alright alright we’re gonna get you a freaking rabbit. But we’ll have to look around for one, ok?”

Her face then lit up like how I’d look if I were to be given a promotion at work… which kinda made me ponder how many instances in the long history of mankind have great men fell, to this nasty trick of crying card by the opposite gender…

Now I’m going to have to crack my head on how to get out from this terrible mess. The truth is, I am not ready to have a fucking rabbit in my house…

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | Comments Off
September 12, 2012

don’t be a housewife at all cost

I don’t know if there are ladies out there reading this but in my best conservative guess, the chance is high that there are. So, ladies, if you get the chance to choose to become a housewife – for good or bad reasons – please fucking decline it. Are you listening to me? Fucking decline it. It’ll do you harm. A lot of it.

How do I know? About 70% of the ladies in my apartment block, are housewives. Yes, they don’t fucking go out to work. They stay at home all the time, taking care of screaming kids and shit. And all of them, are my wife’s friends. They come to my house all the time because apparently, kids bond well, and they’re exploiting the remote chance of getting to socialize with the outside world (my wife), and that’s when I get to glimpse at their dark personalities developed over the long period of unintended confinement. You get the idea.

Let me tell you how it’s going to fuck up your life.

a) Physical
No doubt it’s going to physically fuck you up. Because being a housewife pretty much means you have about a single digit number of friends (and that includes the bread guy who sells bread to you at night), and THAT, makes you lose the sense of vanity. You’re going to grow fat. You’re going to have cellulite and varicose veins. You’re going to be infested with armpit hairs. You’re going to stink like a filthy wiping cloth at the busiest mamak stall. You’re going to have zero appeal even to animals. It’s gonna be the saddest thing ever.

Now how can this happen? You see, the female species thrive on having to compare, gossip and get jealous in order to improve itself. By not getting to do that (by staying at home the whole day looking after the kids), you’d have nothing for you to compare against and therefore, cease the purpose of wanting to look awesome. It’s like a single tree that grows out from a piece of land – it won’t grow high to fight for sunlight. That’s how my neighbours look like. All of them.

b) Mental
The female species also thrive on having topics to gossip about and also ears to hear their problems. It’s sort of like an avenue for them alleviate their daily pain of having to keep secrets or knowledge within them. If they don’t get to do that, it’s going to affect their IQ and EQ. This is particularly critical for housewives. Just imagine, the most important/dramatic thing ever happened in their daily life, is probably taking out the trash using an alternate route to the dump. This would not bode well with having the need to share tales because there aren’t going to be much of them. So they sort of develop this inferiority complex, with a fair mix of extreme insecurity and would often than not, exaggerate tales on their own – like they’re fucking high on PCP. (BELIEVE IT!).

I’ll give you a true story example – it was the mother of that psychotic kid I wrote about – she told my wife that she used to be a badminton state player or something like that. When my wife cascaded the fact to me, I immediately rubbished the claim because she was only like 4 feet 9 to my humble estimate. If she’s a badminton state player, then I’d most definitely be the Six Million Dollar Man. Sure enough, one day I saw her playing badminton at the apartment compound and confirmed that she made the whole thing up. She couldn’t even play with a 7 year old. (and I won’t even dwell on the details of many instances of her loco-ish behavior that kind of disturbing even to my drunkest standard)

So, you can only imagine how deep the shit has poisoned her soul. All carbonized, black and shiny. She’d probably set off a metal detector on her own. I was wondering, would it be more different if she had chosen to work instead of being a full time housewife? I think yes. At least she would have better topics to talk about instead of making up stories like she’s a badminton state player or an ex-formula one driver!

My advice is, just go out and get something to do. It doesn’t have to be a posh job. You just need to have colleagues and friends, and keep your life on the move. Do some gossips. Criticize some bitches at the office. Get jealous. Do what’s normal. It’ll do you a lot more good. As for the kids – just send them to nurseries or daycares. Those professionals can teach your kids better (than you screaming at them).

michaelooi  | enlightenments  | Comments Off
September 8, 2012

My new ride

Sold the old car. Got a new one.

*not an actual picture of my actual car…

michaelooi  | personal  | Comments Off
August 27, 2012

Experience of owning a Chevrolet Optra in Malaysia

I first blogged about my current car – Lorraine – back in April, 2004. It has been 8 years I’ve driven this car. It’s a Chevrolet Optra 1.6, a 2003 make (but bought new in 2004). I’ve been through thick and thin with her, and a recent spate of bad experiences concerning its spare parts, has made me decide to change my ride to a newer one. But before that, I would like to write about the experience – of owning a Chevrolet in Malaysia. I’m sure not many of you are interested, but I’m gonna write it anyway.

But before I dwell into the details, I would like to touch a little bit on some general info about this model. In case you do not know, this model is actually a Daewoo Lacetti (Google it). It’s not really an American car but a Korean make. It’s just a fucking rebadge to become a Chevy, like that Naza Ria or some shit like that. Back in those days, this car is considered one of the best looking Korean make around and was sold at an affordable price. Wanting to be different and attracted to its minimalist design, I took a leap of faith and bought this thing. BIG. FUCKING. MISTAKE. This is one of the many things I regret, along with the bad taste in fashion and opting to live-in with my late mother. Now, on to the details…

Optra is a great car. It is reasonably good in power for a 1.6 and the handling’s good – I know nuts about body roll / oversteer / that kind of shit but, let’s just say I have had no problem maneuvering around dead carcasses, pot holes, and there was even once I did a fish tail maneuver (out of reflex) to avert an accident. Its ABS saved my life a few times. The bumper’s tough (hit from the rear 3 times, with only a small bump). No major showstopper to date. But there were a lot of minor bad experiences though:
– Wear / tear : The radiator hose had a leak once, and another one time had a leak on the reservoir. Small fixes.
– Wear / tear : Thermostat unit connecting to one of the coolant hose got brittle and registered a minor leak. Changed it to a cast iron type (had to be imported from Thailand).
– Wear / tear : Broken door handle once at the inner part, and another at the outer part (some plastic parts aren’t that good in durability).
– Wear / tear : Locking mechanism went lose a couple of times on both rear doors. Had to get them changed. Some inconveniences registered.
– Wear / tear : Wheel bearing got fucked once and made the car sound like Aedes mosquito fogging machine. Changed it for an arm and a leg. (expensive)
– Fuckloads of times with blown headlights (there is a recall recently about this – read Suzuki Forenza).
– Fuckloads of times with blown taillights. (that was due to the poor design on the socket, which causes intermittent connection and shortened the bulb life. Fixed it myself and got rid of the problem.).
– Leaking antirust gunk below all the doors. No solutions from anyone. Been living with this for 8 years. Fuck me.
– I didn’t like the weird/annoying noise when locking/unlocking this car. Been living with this for 8 years. Fuck me.
– Car has exceptionally high fuel consumption. It may be a 1.6, but it guzzles up fuel like a bitch. 9km per liter of petrol. That’s how bad it is. (gets worse if the traffic’s fucked up).
– Fuckloads of times I had to get the air conditioner fixed. If there’s one fucking problem I have to name about this car, it has to be the goddamn aircon. I’ve changed literally everything there is on this car that has something to do with the fucking aircon. From the hose to the compressor, to the goddamn control unit (which was burnt, almost a safety concern).

Now, this is fucked up. Chevrolet is the epitome of bad services. It’s worse than Proton, I believe. First of all, the Chevrolet brand has changed no less than 5 managements throughout the 8 years of this ownership. (Ridiculous, right??) When I first bought the car, it was under Chye Seng Motor (or something like that) and the only Service Center was located in Bagan fucking Ajam (that was like, going to Sepang from KL city). And the service was fucking abysmal. Parts took months to deliver (as I learned when I ordered some parts that were damaged during the tinting service) and the attitudes of the personnels there were worse than prison wardens. Chye Seng Motor then added another SC in the island near Sg Tiram and shit literally got improved, but not for long. The chief mechanic there left a few months afterwards, and the service turned a few notches down below average. Then there was another management change, SC was then relocated to Autocity. It was alright there, until they shut it down again, and reopened again a few months later under DRB Hicom. Then, it changed again to Cergazam (which was the longest and best period ever – Cergazam was good). And then it changed again recently park under the big shit ass corporation – Naza. It was hell under Naza. Again, shit went back to square one, for Naza was as bad as Chye Seng. Not wanting to go through the same experience again, I opted to change this car once and for all. (and the resale value was unbelievably low)

In a nutshell, owning this car has been a torture. Not because of the car itself, but because of the experience of having to deal with the shitbags that do not know how to run an automobile servicing management. Having to deal with multiple changes in its management hadn’t been impressive at all as well. So, if you have the heart to own a Chevrolet – read this review in depth and get a glimpse of what might happen to you in the future. Me? I’ve had enough, I’m switching back to Japanese.

michaelooi  | automobiles  | Comments Off
August 12, 2012

Fucking bitch in the cinema makes me homicidal

Just wanted to release this.

There was this lady (of about 40 years of age, with a toddler) sitting on the opposite aisle of where I was inside the cinema, who seemed to have her eyes directly connected to her mouth (bypassing the brain). Every scene that she saw, she would exclaim an exaggerated “Oooh!” or an “Ahhh!”, as if she’s trying very hard to tell everyone that she’s going through some terrific time right there. If she’s not doing that, then she would resort to the commentary mode, to describe whatever fuck that was happening in the plot like – “Oh he’s running!”, “Why did he do that?”, “That is so funny!”. It was so damn fucking annoying. I can’t believe people like her could even find a mate and have a family. I mean, how could anyone tolerate a walking disaster like that? The guy who hooked with her must be so goddamn desperate for a mate that he’d settle for a lowlife cheebye like her.

I was so tempted to walk over to her to give her the hardest kick in the crotch, but I relented because it’s a crime in this part of the world. But I bet she’s going to yell “Oh he kicked my crotch and I’m in pain!” if I did that, and it’s going to be even more so annoying that might make want to just kill her by choking her with my pair of flip-flops.

michaelooi  | rantings  | Comments Off