Increment Of Salary - August 2005

25th July 2005

YADDA YADDA FORWARDERS (M) SDN BHD
A SUBSIDIARY COMPANY OF SUPER STINGY FORWARDERS (M) SDN BHD

Dear Mr. / Mrs. / Ms. JDream Anderson-Smith,

We at YADDA YADDA FORWARDERS (M) SDN BHD are pleased to inform you of your increment in your monthly salary in view of rising petrol prices currently.

Therefore, as of the 1st of August 2005, your new salary will be RM3000.10 (Ringgit Malaysia Three Thousand and Ten Cents). As the Government has increased the price of petrol by ten cents per litre once more, we have decided to subject you to this 10-cents increment as a mark of gratitude for your service with us for this past year.

Should your performance appraisal be of satisfactory level upon review at the end of this year, you might be entitled for another 10-cents bonus increment. However, bear in mind that your performance will be monitored closely in these 5 remaining months to come and should the managers catch you not working your ass off like a dog, your eligibility for the 10-cent increase entitlement will be brought forward to June 2006.

We certainly do hope that with this 10 cents increase in your salary, you have been satisfied and we genuinely want to see it to be a good means of motivation to you in time to come.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

XXXX XXXXX XXX

(Managing Director)

YADDA YADDA FORWARDERS (M) SDN BHD

JALAN KEDEKUT 5, MENARA TANGKAI JERING
54321 KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA

Kindergarten Blues

I remember when I was studying in elementary school (otherwise known as "kindergarten" here), I used to dread major events in which all the parents would attend and watch their offsprings put on embarassing performances against their will (all of the time).

God I hate those things, I tell ya.

Even from an early age, whereby most (not all) young tykes would still have monotonous & robotic thinkings, I was already light-years ahead of them in terms of maturity, sensing what was going around the kindergarten.

Needless to say, I was always the rebellious one, thwarting nearly all of their attempts to program my mind with communism and mindless obedience; I would not be brainwashed.

But none compares to the annual concerts and what-shits we were forced to put on for the sake of entertainment. Then the parents would all go "Aww" over their children's cutesy acts and blind them with repeated camera flashes. Sorry to say this but I don't believe in all your Communist-like ideology crap.

I recalled a year (could be 1987, I forgot) when our kindergarten suddenly decided to get cute and drafted out a plan for the kids to sing a few hootenanny songs while carrying a single cardboard with a letter affixed on it to form a single, complete word when joined with the rest. No doubt I hated the sick idea right from the start, but being young and powerless, I had to succumb to their vile wishes. As if being paraded on stage like an animal wasn't insulting enough, our teachers made it compulsory for everyone of us to wear heavy make-up, including those with two meatballs and a sausage.

Imagine my horror when the teacher came over, bound me to the chair and proceeded to apply lipstick. It was extra-red in color - all the more to make me stand out like an idiot onstage. What are they trying to teach us? That it's perfectly acceptable for boys to wear makeup and look gay? Trying to fight back and resist was futile as the leather straps were too thick and strong for a boy my age and size.

After almost an hour of thrashing and finicking, the evil deed was done, and the whole group of us paraded to the stage and like mindless drones (except me), they sang and danced in the most revoltingly cute way possible, and I suspect they did this to solicit as many "Awws" from the audience as possible. Oh shit.

If I had a gun at that time, I'd have been so proud to hunt down the teacher who slapped lipstick, blusher and eye mascara on me and chamber a few rounds into her wrinkled body to serve as a warning to the other teachers of the fate awaiting them should they ever try to get cute with me.

Finally, after 3 dreadful hours tasting lipstick and sweating a storm onstage, it was finally over. But the damage was done, and nothing I do would ever reverse the shame put upon me (the others were still too childish and dimwitted to even feel molested and brutalized). Later on, when my parents were both taking my hands in tow, they stopped short to speak to the same teacher who slopped paint on me. My hands weren't free at that moment, or else I'd unleashed a series of kung-fu moves that would've made Bruce Lee's chop-socks look like something out of a Teletubby show.

Then we went for late supper, I got to drink Coke, and subsequently back at home I remembered getting sick in the middle of the night, vomitted a Niagara-ful of puke and missed class the day after. Must've been something in the lipstick that the wicked teacher applied in an effort to try and kill me, but luckily I survived to tell this traumatizing tale.

Asshole Auntie & Co. : The Gripping Story

I was driving along the usual Old Klang Road stretch today when the most inane thing happened - I got tailgated and stalked by 3 wrinkled aunties in a puny white Kancil. The whole fracas unfolded after I had passed by the infamous dastardly Intec College traffic light. The stupid driver in front of me was going slow, so I overtook him, taking to my right after a truck. And behind me was none other than Asshole Auntie, piloting her Kancil at Negative 10 KM/PH, so much so that it resulted in a gap of more than 5 meters for me to safely overtake without causing any accidents.

But out of the blue, Asshole Auntie somehow decided that what I just did was dangerous, utterly unjustified, and sort of degraded the whole wide world's assload of similar auntie drivers with super-asshole driving skills. She blew the car horn. Not that it mattered to me though, as I knew I overtook in the most courteous way possible instead of trying to wedge my way in between 2 centimeters' worth of gap.

Glancing back through my rear mirror, I saw Passenger Auntie helping herself to the Kancil's horn, with Backseat Auntie cheering her on, as though that would automatically make me stop my car, get out and kiss her feet while repeatedly begging for forgiveness. That small act of defiance made her smile, so I assumed she got a kick out of it or something like that.

Bitch.

I decided to let matters go, as I wasn't too bothered by those three middle-aged women's childish antics. I thought they'd give it a rest too. I decided to play the good gentleman. But nooo, Asshole Auntie & Co. weren't done pissing me off yet - she deliberately accelerated and catched up alongside me on the right, whereby Passenger Auntie and Backseat Auntie both made jeering signs at me. Not really that obscene but still enough to get on any nice young man's nerves.

That was when I totally lost it. Screw the good manners. Screw the road etiquettes. I returned the "Get-lost-you-asshole" sign, using my fingers creatively before swerving my Kancil to the right lane in the most dangerous manner you could think of. At that point, I had really hoped it'd give Asshole Auntie the fright of her life. And probably if I could add in a dollar or two, I would have loved to see her brake frantically, jamming her feet all the way to the bottom, and then by some luck have her car to flip over and burst into flames instaneously. Even if the flaming ball moment didn't happen, I had a lighter stashed in my car dashboard and I would have been so proud to assist.

Super bitch.

As expected, the desired chain of events didn't materialise, and Asshole Auntie promptly steered her car into Mid-Valley, probably still reeling from the unexpected shock that a nice young gentleman actually had the balls to fight back. Still driving, I mentally hoped she'd get a seizure and keel over soon, preferably in front of a big crowd and no one knows enough CPR to save her ass.

Damn those wrinkled Ah Soh drivers. They should all be herded up and shot.

The Insane Octopus Love Story

Originally posted on September 27th 2003

Real, heartbreaking love stories are hard to come by, and harder to resist from not reading it :-

I had the chance of bumping into my love interest (I'm sure you people know what I'm referring to, right?) the other day at Bandar Sunway. I saw her in front of a car workshop, looking ever so beautiful. I'd fallen in love with her at first sight some years back. I approached her slowly, my heart starting to beat furiously and my palms were getting sweaty. She was a work of art, and I admired at how GOD had infused the "intelligent design" into her. What a masterpiece!

She was there, and I went up to her and began to whisper sweet nothings to her, but as expected, she did not respond to me. Aah, how painful it is not to be able to hear her sweet, soothing voice. Yet, I stood there, admiring her slender body. How I wished she was mine, but I knew that if I had her, (and since I came from a not so well-to-do background) I wouldn't be able to afford her meals much each time we went out for a drive. And I knew that even if I did have her in my life, each time we were to go out together, she'd be turning other guys' heads and they too would have wished that they had her. The chance of her getting lost, stolen by another guy was too great, and I promised myself that if I got her, I'd protect her with all my life.

The simple truth was that I knew right from the start I set my eyes upon her, she was THE ONE I was looking for all this while; there would be no other of her kind that would be as beautiful and as graceful like her. The rest of them buggers back at church already knew the big secret that I liked her; the beans were spilled some months back, ever since I knew how to drive. And they'd constantly tease me over the issue, but I want to tell you people one thing, and I'm not afraid to admit it; I REALLY LIKE HER A LOT.

Yet the financial barrier remains the main culprit; I just simply did not have enough hard cold cash to support her, let alone get her into my life. The only decent thing left to do was to stand far away and admire her from a distance, and dream of her presence every day; how I'd love to feel her in my hands and to show her off as a trophy to my church friends, who'd be green with envy. :0)

The happy moment I was enjoying with her came to a sudden halt when a man came out of nowhere, and began to stare at me with the eyes that seem to say, "Hey! She's mine. Don't even try and think of stealing her, you hear me?" She belonged to him, as I could evidently see now. With that little-boy lost look in my eyes, I turned and took a few steps away from her, while the man got into my love interest - A Toyota Supra 3.0 Twin Turbo Engine DOHC - and slowly backed her from the parking lot into the road, and sped away immediately, kicking up some dirt towards me...

Aah, I loved that car very much (IT WAS A CAR, WHAT WERE YOU PEOPLE THINKING OF ?!!!); I'd fallen in love with her since the day I learned how to drive, and sad to say, I just can't afford to own her (which BTW, she's worth a clean RM138,000) and afford her petrol "mealtimes" (This car can take in a hell lot of petrol). And also that insecurity part when I'm driving her around town, they'd be people plotting to steal her away from me.

And most of my church friends know the big secret that I like a Toyota Supra anyway. That's cos I keep ranting and raving about that car each Sunday without fail. And driving her to church will seriously get my friends into my list of envious people, and well, that Supra 3.0 was in the workshop's parking lot that day when I saw it...

So, to all my friends out there who are reading this, never ever be afraid to love the car of your dreams. Never, ever let that dream die. Steal, kill, lie, cheat or do whatever that's necessary in order for you to own that car... ;0)

End.

Kill Your Sim: A Day-To-Day Guide To Being Your Own Grim Reaper

This is an old post

Recently replayed "The Sims" again, just for the sake of that nostalgic feeling and also to rebuild my dream house. But after awhile, when the construction was finished, it became a routine, where each day was just not having enuff to eat, not enuff sleep & stuff like that. To make matters worse, the Sims practically don't listen to what I command them to do.

So in the end, there wasn't enuff time for each of them (I'm running 4 individual's lives) like asking them to go swimming, build relationships etc.

But then a small voice began to say something inside my head...

"Kill them... kill them all." the voice seemed to say.

"What? Kill them all? But they're my Sims and I love them." I protested.

"Kill them... kill them all." the voice said again...

"Oh well okay, you're the boss..." And so I did. Kill them all, those useless Sims.

I killed the first Sim man by luring him to the BBQ machine outside the patio. Once there, I paused the game, surrounded him with extra flammable objects; i.e. kitchen cabinets et al, unpaused the game and let him rip. Needless to say, it's not easy to re-construct what you see on Extended Play, but after a few million tries, I finally got my Sim burning bright well into the nite.

Aah, burnt Sim just the way I like it...

Then I got the Sim woman to swim in the pool, along with a few other friends of hers, and as usual, I paused the game, but this time, I got rid of the ladders & after a few hours well into the night, the first irritating guest was ready to meet his Maker. Goodbye, don't forget to write from above...

After an agonising 5-6 Sim hours of swimming non-stop (it seems that Sims do not have upper body strength whatsoever to push themselves out of the water) they all started to drop like flies. There, 4 tombstones neatly arranged side-by-side along the edge of the swimming pool.

Now to get the kids...

I trapped the Sim boy in a wall partition and made him walk endlessly all over to his doom. When he tried to sleep, I woke him up, refusing him the luxury. My, what a sadist I am... (Evil laugh). Eventually, suffering from lack of sleep, hunger seeping in, and having soiled the place all over, he finally went to the great Sim Heaven somewhere in the sky... not wearing clean underwear. (Evil laugh)

Lastly, that Sim girl. I made a point not to let her suffer as much as the boy or the others before, so I decided to try out this trick that my friend supposedly said will work; wait 'til the school bus comes, deny her access to the bus, instead ask her to stand in front of the school bus, and when it moves... well, at least she won't suffer much.

But try as I might, the school bus just did not mow her down. (Why won't you die???), and after many unsuccessful tries, I decided not to let her die without suffering much. By now every nite, she'd go to each and every tombstone to mourn, so I decided to save her the trouble of having to mourn by simply selling each tombstone for a mere $5. I doubt they're worth that much by the way...

Finally I made the final choice of sealing her off in a partition just like the boy, but with a refrigerator for prolonged misery. I set the time to fastest and watched with glee how she'd chow each day into an ever-decreasing supply of food level...

She lasted 7 Sim days straight before deciding to quit the earth.

So that was that, "Kill Your Sim: A day-to-day guide to being your own Grim Reaper" excerpt from Extended Play (May 2003: 26/3/2003)