November 6, 2012

Langkawi Island

Went to Langkawi for the 5th time last weekend, and thought I ought to write a review about this place.

First of all, the very reason I went there again and again, is because of the booze. It is a duty free island, and the booze there is like, many times cheaper than anywhere else you can ever find in Malaysia. So naturally, miscreants who are looking to get shitfaced like me and my colleagues are attracted to it like flies to a rotten corpse. And a rotten corpse is coincidentally, a right metaphor to describe Langkawi, for it is nothing but a shithole (albeit not as fucking bad as Pangkor Island).

Recently, there has been news about the government wanting to turn this place into a world class top 10 tourist destination or some shit like that. Well, world class my ass. I don’t know how they’re going to do it. To me, it’s like making a bold claim of wanting to turn one of the most heinous looking old hag in your office into a Miss Universe finalist. I guess this will only happen if Langkawi were to be pitched against shittier places like Somalia or a patch of desert in Afghanistan.

Langkawi has literally nothing there. Trust me. I’ve been to all the tourist spots there – most of them suck donkey cock. Most of them are poorly maintained and holds little or no entertainment value at all. Examples:
– There’s an aquarium that looks like the old Pudu bus station (minus the Banglas).
– There’s a hot spring place that has dead water and shit floating around, that looks more like a massive breeding ground for mosquitoes.(photo proof)
– Shitloads of seedy & run down eateries that charge exorbitant prices for bland tasting food.
– A few waterfalls with garbage strewn all over and rotten amenities. Eco tourism fail.
– A small crocodile farm that looks like a red light district for terminally sick animals. (go to see it for yourself)
– A go-kart circuit that looks abandoned.
– Sight-seeing around the island will reveal a giant cement plant that looks out of place, and a giant landfill with incinerator facility bigger than its airport.
– Airport that brings you back into the 70’s. Considered a shame as it is suppose to be a major place for the annual LIMA event.
– There’s a cable car ride up a mountain called Mat Chinchang, which offers a somewhat mediocre view of the island. (but nothing else).

The only few places worth visiting are the vast stretches of beaches, which is quite spectacular if you’re into beaches. But then, the sea water isn’t very clean to begin with, so it is just really being mediocre. (You can opt to island hop on a boat ride or something, for a fee, which can be quite pricey depending on where you’re from, if you know what I mean).

So, Langkawi is really just a beach joint with cheap booze. If you’re into boozing and lazying around the beach looking and listening to the waves, then this is a place just right for you. World class top 10 tourist destination? Nuh uh. In another world perhaps.

michaelooi  | places  | Comments Off
October 11, 2012


My 6 year old daughter couldn’t stop harping about wanting a goddamn rabbit (or two) as pet(s). It was in my top priority list of things to worry about and it totally ruined my weekend. After a day’s worth of cajoling and shit, Emily finally managed to convince Regine to have a couple of goldfish instead. I was like, well, that’s definitely better than a fucking rabbit so, it was on – my wife got our little kid a couple of goldfish (to placate that little tyrant), which she fondly name them as Starry and Sunny.

I thought it was going to be easy to keep a couple of goldfish, but I was fucking wrong. First mistake – I shouldn’t have assumed that a 6 year old girl would honor her words that she’d take care of a couple of fish in the name of being responsible. The truth is, she just wanted to keep them, not taking care of them. Like slaves. No strings attached. The second mistake – I shouldn’t have assumed that taking care of a couple goldfish is easy. It’s not.

So, as expected, it ended up being me having to take care of the fish. One thing I’ve learned about fish (or goldfish, for that matter) – is that goldfish seem to have the ability to turn very little amount of food into massive amount of slime and shit. I have to clean the fucking tank like, once every 2 days lest they’d stink up the whole house! (and believe me, it really stinks!). Also, they seem to be hungry all the time, and this sort of becomes a perpetual cycle of feeding them and watching them producing more shit (another thing I also learned is, fish do not have a sphincter. i.e. they can’t clip the shit off their ass, so their shit would grossly stuck out of their ass until it drops off its own.).

Me in my sorry state of woes. I’m leaving the commenting system open for any advice on taking care of goldfish – like if any of you know of any synthetic drug that can mutate the goldfish to eat/shit less, or simply being able to do it without murking up the goddamn water… just let me know.

Starry and Sunny

Just had the water changed before this photo was taken.

michaelooi  | rantings  | 11 Comments
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