Ah Lien VS Sex Predator

Ah Lien walked hurriedly down the lonely lane; the wind was really howling that night and the chill permeated right down to the bones. She had overlooked her sweater, assuming that it'd be a hot and suffocating night. How wrong she was.

Clad only in a fashionable off-shoulder ruffled gathered top and micro-mini skirt, she quickened her pace as though the devil was hot on her heels. The lane was silent, eerie, with steam rising inexplicably from the manholes; a perfect setting for a melodramatic horror movie.

Suddenly, about three-quarters into her journey crossing the dark, dreary lane, a lone figure appeared from nowhere. Instinctively, Ah Lien stopped walking and looked at the silhoutte, measuring probably six-foot three. The body's built indicated it to be of a male. The lack of visible light, a common occurence in lonely lanes, obscured his facial features yet it was clear that this mysterious stranger had definitely set his eyes on her.

Sensing danger, Ah Lien slowly backed off, intending to turn back the way she first came. The man started for her, as if sensing her fear. Bad decision for not bringing along the handy pepper spray in an effort to lighten the handbag load, Ah Lien thought for a split second. Now she's probably gonna regret it for the rest of her life.

Teach Yourself 1st-Person Shooter Games in 10 Tips

I play First-Person Shooter (FPS) video games a lot. Well, I used to. Age has somewhat slowed me down a little these days, coupled with the occasional times when I discover tragically that my current PC's hardware does not support a particular game since those games eat graphics cards and memory sticks for breakfast.

From humble beginnings of Quake II to the evergreen Counter-Strike, FPS games have changed little in terms of game play, storyline and tactics. With this, I bring you my experiences of what a standard run-of-the-mill FPS game has to offer. (Note: Those born after the 80s probably won't even have played the first Wolfenstein 3D).

Tip 01: Shoot anything that moves

The first rule of thumb in any FPS game. (Almost) everything that exists in the game running all over the place isn't going to come up to you and give you flowers. No, heck, all they want to do is pump you full of lead. Except for the occasional games like Quake IV or Half Life II where you have team mates to accompany you or some mysterious stranger giving you vital information, the rest are, to put it simply, cannon fodder, existing for the sole purpose of giving your gun something to do.

Tip 02: Inflammable explosive oil barrels equals enemies

In any given map, be it the urban cityscapes or some dark creepy mine of another planet, inflammable explosive oil barrels are always present. And welcome too. For you see, the presence of these barrels denote the presence of enemy soldiers/monsters nearby. Another use to these barrels, being their primary reason of existence, is that whenever a badass enemy is lunging towards you, just take a few steps back, fire a few rounds from your gun and watch the fireworks engulf the fiend. Of course, it pays to be both fast and accurate when executing these nimble acts else your character will be pushing up daisies in no time. We have a Malay version of this wise saying, which is, "Jikalau ada tong berapi, makalah ada musuh". Go figure.

Tip 03: Know your gun

With the exception of a few "extra-realistic" titles, most FPS games allow you to lug more than 5 guns around (excluding your puny pistol) and hold a few hundred thousand of rounds and grenades without even showing the least signs of fatigue. This is so since each gun "generously" bestowed upon you has its own set of strengths and shortcomings; some may be better at long-range sniping while others clear large masses of enemies without too much of a problem. Just remember though not to use those rocket-launchers at VERY close range. Not only it is suicidal, but you feel pretty wasted later. This applies to all games.

Tip 04: Ammo, ammo everywhere

Shortage of ammo in any FPS-genre title is like dying of thirst in a rainforest - it almost never happens. Unless you're an extremely poor shot, of course. Like those Viet Congs in Rambo II who can't even skin Rambo's hide using their AK-47s shot from a distance of 5 meters. Those poor Charlies. Anyway, back to the topic. As you progress and shoot up more dastardly foes and piss more metal from your gun, you will invariably always find ammo scattered conveniently everywhere to make up the ones you used; magazines on the floor, in open crates lying around, on table tops, grenades stacked next to coffee-makers, and some odd ones even hover above the ground while spinning around in a 360-Degree fashion. That is not the only surprising thing. In fact, all the bullets you pick up matches the current configuration of the guns you have in hand from the caliber to the diameter. Wow, what a coincidence! My enemies could've been smarter and got rid of all the crucial ammunition and slowly try to overrun me as I face a critical shortage of ammo.

Tip 05: First-Aid Kits do wonders to bullet wounds

No matter how many times you've been wounded, no matter how badly-shot up you are, all it takes to get you back in full fighting kick-ass mode are a few first-aid kits, also as conveniently scattered everywhere as the ammo magazines. It doesn't matter if you've been burned by napalm or gored physically until your mother would have a hard time recognizing your face, these miracle life-savers are the sole means of getting out of the particular map intact. Having over a few thousand bullets embedded in your torso accumulated by the tons of enemies you've fought through the progress of your journey doesn't seem to pose any long-term health risks either. All you do is grunt a little bit in a manly macho way, use one or two Band-Aids and cotton gauzes, and voila! your bleeding has stopped, your exposed wounds have healed and all possible germ infections have been exterminated. The best thing is, you can still use the kits even while both your hands are holding a gun akimbo.

Tip 06: Your team mates' AI is incredibly stupid

They may carry bigger guns that the ones you tote, but they're stupid. They may wear cool commando-esque outfits complete with NVGs and Kevlar helmets, but they're stupid. They claim to be sent from above to help you accomplish your mission task but most of the time all they do is block your way, stand there while a gunfight erupts, successfully trigger the alarm and get you killed in the process. Worse still are some games that actually REQUIRE you to keep a close watch on your team mates as getting a number of them killed in action puts you into Game Over mode, and your mates don't actually help lighten the situation but instead run like chickens all over the battlefield, and you have to give chase to cover them. Thankfully (some) games have fixed the problem of giving you useless team members, and some do actually prove to be useful. But the majority of games out in the market at this moment still feature dumbass commando colleagues. Therefore, never ever rely on a computer-controlled AI mate to get you out of a sticky situation.

Tip 07: The enemy's AI is incredibly perfect

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse raising the alarm due to your team mates' ineptness, the AI level for the enemy is unfortunately saddled on the other end of the scale. These guys can literally qualify for the Olympic Games' clay pigeon shooting tournament and get perfect scores. The ultimate hell ride can be seen from Medal Of Honor: Allied Assault (MOH:AA) which has a mission for you to flush out German snipers in camouflaged fatigues while the sky is raining heavily. Every nook and cranny hides a Kraut sniper and before you can see them through your own scope, their bullet is already in your head. Particularly frustrating is when you don't have the slightest notion where they are shooting from as well and yet you keep getting hit even when you're supposedly hiding behind a wall. SchaiB! Das ist nacht ein fair game spiel!

Tip 08: Your Health, Total Ammo Left and Map is conveniently laid out for you
You will always know how much ammunition you have left in your gun, and when is the most likely time you might die, and even (in some titles) know where to go although it's your first time stepping onto that alien planet. This is the unsolved mystery of HUDs (Heads-Up Displays) in every FPS game. In fact, you are even notified of how much bullets left you have in the current mag. I understand if some space Marine has his helmet feeding these electronic data display on his screen, but explain those gung-ho ones who just strut around half-naked carrying only a gun and lots of mean attitude.

Tip 09: Always aim for the head

To add more realism to the gameplay, recent FPS games have begun to feature kills by gunshot wounds to the head (ala headshot). Headshots are always the quickest way to dispose of any enemy, and this in turn saves your ammo and time, ensuring you get back just in time for tea and medals (old British phrase). Of course, just like how you aim for the flammable oil barrels, precision and dead-on-sight shots are very much required else you're gonna be spending the rest of eternity buried 6 feet under after those guys have picked your bones clean. It's a tough job being a heroic Marine "gibbing" generic repetitive monsters in alien planets, but someone's gotta do it.

Tip 10: The boss only appears at the end of the map

First of all you fight the weaklings, easily brought under control with no difficulty. Then you fight tougher enemy grunts, then even more badass types. This process repeats itself until you've used up more ammo than the entire WWII itself. Then comes the big boss, thumping mad like a pitbull looking for a chihuahua to eat since you've defeated his earlier worthless minions. The standard way of defeating a boss doesn't really vary much between titles; just shoot him a few thousand times, avoid whatever projectiles he hurls at you, and toast yourself to a glass of champagne once the campaign is over. Simple. The End.

Letter of Resignation: Naughty Version

I'm preparing my letter of resignation from the office since I am somewhat unhappy with the management. This is how it would hopefully look like. I'm writing two versions; one naughty, one nice.

For the nice version please look below


Dear Madam,

A very good day to you. It is with my happiest of thoughts that I have to inform you regarding my resignation from the post of Graphic Designer as of the 31st December 2005. In case you are still scratching your head wondering why, I have taken the trouble to list down the reasons below :-

1. You, my dear lady boss and CEO, are one of the most perfect couples I've ever met, complimenting each other on your combined stupidity and support my theory of the Evolution of Idiocy plus the fact that the both of you are truly one of the biggest genetic wastes in the history of Mankind. You rank in the hallways among the most evil individuals in history, alongside people such as Adolf Hitler, Al Capone, Britney Spears (and the few odd Taiwanese gay boybands) and you have an honorable place in the Museum of the Most Stupid Idiots Ever Lived. I for one cannot imagine how you two (especially you, my lady boss) can beat 25 million of your father's other sperms 30-plus years ago.

2. I still cannot understand until this very day how you can actually favor some idiot who claims to have completed his first year at some reputable art & design college majoring in industrial and graphic design and yet knows shit about Adobe PhotoShop or Adobe Illustrator. Regretfully speaking, he brings shame to the term "Graphic Designer" with his child-like mentality of artwork, laziness in figuring out how to solve his own problems at work, atrocious English, his incompetency to use simple things like Google and his inefficiency to grasp the simple theory that resizing small pictures into larger versions will result in messy, jagged edges.

3. I should enlighten and inform you that his other blatant displays of ineptness includes not knowing how to do layouts despite being an art student, not knowing how a PC functions, acts all high and mighty, and complains loudly that his PC is extremely slow, when in fact it is due to him running over a billion Yahoo Messenger chat windows simultaneously. I can safely say by now I have a higher chance of success at training a common ground squirrel to operate Adobe PhotoShop than teaching the above mentioned "Graphic Designer" who happens to be some Datuk's son that you hired who is sitting next to my cubicle how to perform his share of the workload.

4. And before I should forget, I feel it is my duty as a worker to inform my immediate superiors, no matter how high the level of idiocy they display (in this case it's referring to the both of you), that I found the Datuk's son gleefully reading erotic stories online. Personally, I do not think such acts will be viewed upon favorably by any self-respecting employers of any distinguished company.

5. Please do kindly update yourself in matters relating to computers - I really do hate it trying to save you from embarassment every time you attempt to show off how much you "know" regarding technology but end up either misunderstanding the terminologies involved or the various jargons present. For your kind information, to study the General Field of IT does not mean one is 100% well-versed in everything and anything pertaining to computers - this is why we have many branches in the IT sector. I doubt you will ever understand the difference between a spyware and a virus. You are forever doomed to be looked down upon by the others, save for your money which is the only redeeming factor which will buy you the face-saving respect of others.

For this, I must take my leave, and I thank you for the unmeasurable amount of verbal and psychological abuse you've given to me so generously that I feel I need to return the compliments gratefully. Therefore, from this day onwards, you shall exist in my dictionary as "Queen Asshole"; a very special title reserved only for the cream of the crop.

Wishing you and your company the best in all your future endeavorments. I also do hope to see you and your company bankrupt soon (which is inevitable).

Thank you and have a pleasant and productive day ahead.


Yours Sincerely,

JDream Anderson-Smith
GRAPHIC DESIGNER

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Letter of Resignation: Nice Version

I am a very fair person. I give credit when due and condemn when appropriate. This is the nice version of my proposed letter of resignation. For the naughty version, please see above

Dear Madam,

Top of the morning to you. Referring to the title above, I would like to tender in my resignation for the post of Graphic Designer as of the 31st of December 2005.

It has certainly been a great opportunity to work in your company. I have learnt Adobe Illustrator through the great colleagues that I have, and the countless assignments and projects given under my attention gave me enough chances to brush up and sharpen both my Adobe PhotoShop and Illustrator skills and also to give me an exposure to this industry.

I have enjoyed the times when you spoke to me in a nice manner and gave me clear instructions when handing over an assignment to me. It has certainly brightened up my working day to know my immediate superior is so well-spoken for the day, and thus resulting in a more productive and motivated spirit. I believe those kind of rare magical moments saved you a lot from the hefty sums paid to see a doctor or by consuming tons of throat lozenges. Quality motivation equals quality work turned in. For now, I will not use the average ground squirrel's intelligence example to compare with you.

I would also like to voice out my profound appreciation when we had that office birthday bash and you generously sponsored so much, from the food to the wine. Especially the red wine. In case you did not notice it, the mood that particular day was a refreshing change from the usual screamings and shoutings and the breaking of chinaware. It is indeed really great to see everyone talking and laughing like old friends without choking each other for once.

With this, I shall take my leave, and before I should go, I would like to thank you once more for the times when you did not scream and curse at me when asking me to accomplish a particular task. Yeah, I know it sounds a bit repetitive but what the heck.

Wishing you a great and wonderfully productive working day.


Yours Sincerely,

JDream Anderson-Smith
GRAPHIC DESIGNER

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U2: Mysterious Murder In BonoVille

Something from my secondary-school blogging days.

My name is Detective Anderson, attached to the homicide department. And when I mean homicide, I mean weird things. All kinds of weird things. Murders and suicides. Some too gross to describe, others too disturbing for me until this very day. But above all, nothing compares to the weirdest case I happened to investigate some months back...

It all started when a mysterious murder took place in BonoVille. A singer by the name of Jimmy was apparently murdered by an iron thrown from an apartment which struck his head. Local police suspected foul play and immediately called for me to investigate the culprit behind the murder. I was paired off with another F.B.I. agent whose behaviour could change from serious to childish.

Our first stop was in MIAMI, but obviously there was no one suspected of homicide. After walking aimlessly for a while, we came to a place WHERE THE STREETS HAVE NO NAME. It was hard to ask for directions for the people there simply had no idea what we were asking. We walked further and saw a girl on the street. She was obviously attracted to my looks and flung herself at me. "HOLD ME, THRILL ME, KISS ME, KILL ME!" was all she said.

Convinced that she was insane, I released myself from her bonds. "DO YOU FEEL LOVED?" was the next thing she asked. "No" was my answer and she quickly asked me what she wear would make her more attractive. So truthfully, I answered, "IF YOU WEAR THAT VELVET DRESS" and pointed at that specific dress in the shop nearby. She went wild with delight and told us two to wait outside the shop while she went in and bought the dress. Taking advantage while she was inside, we hurriedly left and when she came out, we were both GONE.

The second stop was at the PLAYBOY MANSION owned by a millionaire named MOFO. We suspected he killed Jimmy out of rivalry but he denied everything. However, I continued to rain him with questions and I could see that he was getting genuinely afraid. At that time, my partner started singing sappy love songs. "PLEASE stop it!" I snarled.

It was then that MOFO decided to make a clean break for it. "Let's get DISCOTHEQUE!" I said to my partner and we chased after MOFO. While we were running, I noticed strangely that my partner kept on STARING AT THE SUN. After a brief chase, we caught up with him. It was then that MOFO and I got mistakenly handcuffed by my partner. I was furious but this time I spoke to him in a nice manner. "Ed, I know I can't solve this case WITH OR WITHOUT YOU, but PLEASE stop being so childish!" MOFO kept insisting he was innocent but we handcuffed and shoved him into the back of the car anyway. It has never occured to me that I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR - a wife, no thanks to my bad temper. Earlier, I told my partner to shut his mouth again when he told me to BULLET THE BLUE SKY.

It was nearly TWILIGHT when we reached BonoVille to hand over the suspect to the law. A mass gathering was held in honor of the dead singer. The police decided to let MOFO take a last look at Jimmy's face before he was led to the execution ground. Still shouting, MOFO was dragged to Jimmy's coffin and without warning, MOFO cried out "WAKE UP DEAD MAN!". An officer there said, "IN THE NAME OF LOVE for God, shut up!!" before hitting his bald head. From the looks of it, it was certainly MOFO's LAST NIGHT ON EARTH. "IF GOD WILL SEND HIS ANGELS", I murmured softly to myself.

But what happened next took everyone by complete surprise; Jimmy stood up in his coffin and began singing one of his love songs. This scene was too much for most of them to stomach and many died of heart attack. It seems that the doctors made a mistake while checking for his pulses.

So the case was closed and MOFO declared innocent of homicide. As for me, I was lucky MOFO did not file a lawsuit against me and all in all, these weren't THE SWEETEST THINGS...

*In case you haven't figured out yet, words that are in UPPERCASE RED denote the title of U2's songs. Go figure.

Trivia

• Paragraph 1 didn't exist in the book; it was written specifically for this post to give the narrating character a more subtle introduction.

• When the stupid printers got my story published in the magazine, they somehow decided to change "U2" into "US" probably because they never heard of Bono & gang or the printer guys were just plain stupid.

• Bono is the lead singer for U2, hence the term "BonoVille"

• The first three lines of Paragraph 6 (until Line 3) was originally left out by the stupid printer guys. It made its way into this 6th anniversary blog commemoration here.

• This story was inspired by an earlier article whereby the author used all the names of cigarette brands to create a wonderfully, humorous story. The rest is history.

• The names Jimmy and Ed do not refer to anyone in real-life when I wrote this.

• No one so far has been smart enough to approach me and exclaim to me that they realised all this while the uppercase red words are actually famous U2 songs.

• MOFO means "Motherf--" in short term, only realised lately. However, the author had no evil intentions when he composed this brilliant story.

• This story was given a humble honor at the 1999 annual prize awards ceremony amongst other achievements.
  

Excuse Me, Are You A Graphic Designer?

Some new guy just joined our company. Says he's from some reputable college of arts but his description leaves a lot to be desired, especially when he tells us that he doesn't know how to use even basic Adobe Illustrator and Adobe Photoshop, two softwares that are demanded by the market in today's standards of every Graphic Designer.

He even asked me today how to do layouts for the Swiss Military watch catalogue that I passed to him. I was originally in charge of the whole operation but due to increasing workload from unsympathetic idiotic colleagues, and with him being the new guy with nothing to work with at, I was handed down orders to pass a copy so that he could assist me in completing a partial work of the catalogue.

And he's supposed to be a graphic designer.

Now it's bothering me when he calls me every five minutes or so, asks me the crash-course ways to do layouts. I mean, layouts aren't something that can be taught - you need that creative spark and that independant thinking to get the job done.

And he's supposed to be a graphic designer.

He asks me questions regarding PhotoShop and Illustrator even though they are of the most basic understanding to any ordinary human (cut-and-paste for example) and he's kinda getting on my nerves. Ask him to transfer some hand drawings to Illustrator's vector format and he shakes his head indicating he does not have the slightest idea what to do or how to do it.

And he's supposed to be a... oh to hell with it! You get the drift.

I'm not saying that I'm far better than he is (my Illustrator skills are still somewhat lukewarm) but when you meet someone who claims to be a student of some famous art college studying industrial and graphic design, you should at least know what "a Photoshop" is. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't know PC as well.

Disclaimer : I am NOT an art student, and here I am teaching an ART student design, Photoshop, layouts and Illustrator.

Something is VERY wrong here, no shit.

Chronicles Of An Office Monster

It's been the second week since I've started working in my new working office environment so let me give you a full honest account of the major happenings around there - I love my job but the lady boss is a real slavedriver. I've scribbled a list depicting all the weird distasteful things that has been somehow managed to be inflict upon my working life so far by The Dragon Lady.

PERSONAL ACHIEVEMENT AWARDS OF THE DRAGON LADY

She set the new record for Foul Mouth-lympics

I have this nagging feeling that she somehow contracted a kind of weird disease during young that provokes her to spew profanities 24/7. How else can you explain the fact that those four-letter words that accompanies most of her speeches makes up her main daily language? Picture this: she spews profanities during the morning meetings, she repeats them over the phone (for no good reason), she threatens us with them during compulsory Saturday meetings, and whenever she feels like it. I mean, fine if you want to say them to yourself. It's none of my business what you tell yourself during your own free time. But it concerns me very much when you utter "shit" to me over the phone when you want to ask me to do some graphic art. Not professional. And what's with the constant act of trying to look super-cool during meetings by peppering your sentences with those f-words constantly?

She won the Gold Medal for being Uber Suspicious

Believe me when I tell you every square inch of the office space is littered full of CCTVs (go hang yourself if you don't know what the acronym stands for). Security is one thing, but I feel she's taking that Better To Be Safe Than Sorry act a tad bit too far. There's practically not a safe place for you anywhere in the office to get a breather. The very presence of the evil-looking tinted dome ceiling cameras itself strikes terror into the hearts of each employee. For those who love to pick at their noses often, this will mean very bad news to them as the camera is forever observing silently. I don't know about you but being distrustful of your employees and fixing those surveillance cameras all over the place will only result in churning out fearful workers paranoid of every move they make and giving them undeserved stress of knowing they are being watched everyday everywhere.

She graduated from the school of Pissing People Off

The longest-running employee record goes to a poor sod of 3 years slugging her life in the office. She basically acts as Dragon Lady's personal secretary, which is a bad thing since she's in the utmost front line of getting the brunt of her profanity attacks. Daily. Without fail. I found out, unsurprisingly, that 90% of the staff there were quite recent, on an average of 3-4 months. It doesn't make me bat an eyelid. The poor sales sods (two young executive girls, and quite pretty ones too) were only in this whole mess for about less than two months, but already on the verge of suffering from a nervous breakdown. I'm being honest here. No employee should ever be subjected to such mental torture by such incredulous individuals who think they're right and the world is wrong. I'm only in for such a short span of time but I'm already thinking up a million ways to strangle her whenever she pisses me off.

She received a Nobel Prize for discovering a New Level of Rudeness

A typical office meeting with her in it can cause even the toughest army commando guy to break down and go soft. She'd just boss her way around and act all high and mighty with a no-holds-barred attitude towards anyone who is not related to her (she has another two younger brothers working in the same office, one who is a sales person. That being so, everyone is smart enough to keep their mouths shut whenever both of them is present). The rudeness can be best explained through a series of examples - you're explaining to her regarding a particular job when she just cuts you off, stops listening to whatever you're trying to say and instead throws the paper at you and tells you to do it her way. I hate people throwing stuffs to me because it denotes disrecpectfulness. The second thing is just how she cuts into people's explanation halfway without thinking twice how mighty damn rude it was.

She won an Emmy Award for acting in "Super Bossy Nobody"

Once, she told me straight in the eye that I need to intercom her before I went up to see her. Sure, she's always so bossy and busy to the point that she does not have any time for us "office scums". I just smiled at her while telling myself over and over, "Yes, your Royal Ultimate Highness". What a bitch! Can somebody please tell me if any of our Chinese Medical halls or local bomohs stock those traditional powder-like form of concoctions that will make a human being lose their voice, grow slightly retarded and probably put on a few pounds. If you know any of these things, do give me a ring. I'll be more than happy to silence her once and for all eternity.

She raised the bar in standards for Ugly Body Tan

And Good Lord, what an ugly tan she has! She looks literally like a cross between a burnt sandwich and an over-roasted chicken. Such disturbing sights should be by right kept hidden away from the public eye, wrapped under countless layers of clothes. But instead she's basically flaunting it for everyone to see in the skimpiest blouses with the skinniest of straps. Don't even get me started on her choice of clothes and the color-matching disasters. Maybe that would explain the countless puddles of puke I see flooding the toilet bowls each time I pay a visit to the loo. (I take special anti-horrible ugly hag pills to combat the daily nausea, so I'm much or less immune).

She made the Mafia proud with her excellent Exploitation Tactics

To my understanding, the above fore mentioned personal secretary of the Dragon Lady has been undergoing 1001 Torture Lessons for three years. Period. Now as we all know it, in life and particularly when it comes to office life, the simple rule of thumb is that when your employer (in this case, Godzilla) starts giving you hell, you do the next best thing - throw in your resignation letter and tell him or her to kiss your ass goodbye. To cut a long explanation short, I did wonder why despite the countless verbal abuses shoved down her throat, never did she (Ms. Personal Secretary) once threatened to quit. Apparently, she borrowed this huge lump sum of money to finance her car, and in doing so, she was bound by some sort of unholy contract between her and her immediate Godzilla lady boss, that is, probably by slaving her ass until all the debts have been repaid. So in the time being, Ms. Gojira-san has her days full as she toys around with her secretary in any way she wishes, sometimes to the brink of suicide and manic depression. I won't rule the possibility of the two out. Al Capone would have been definitely pleased to have her as his daughter.

She has a black belt in Bad Social Etiquette

She just can't seem to have a simple "How is your work progress" conversation diplomatically. Every waking hour of her life (save except when she's meeting some high-standing Datuk or Tan Sri) is used to scream, yell and threaten of rolling heads with most of her employees. I still cannot fully comprehend until today why she just cannot be nice, smile and treat us to ice-cream once in a while. She's another of the type of employers who think that scolding the heck out of people equals good motivation in work. She should marry my fore-blogged Company Boss from Hell, since they're both such sweet darlings when it comes to screaming at their workers. And did I even mention about her horrible degrading tactics? The idiocy she spills out everytime about how smart people like her keep on asking questions to widen their knowledge base while the rest of us (so-called) stupid idiots keep our mouths shut. 2 arguments to this - Argument #1: When I or someone else keeps on asking her questions just to be more specific in our work and eliminate the chances of making mistakes, she blows her top instantly. Argument #2: When she asks people questions, most of them enlighten her in a spirit of goodwill, never screaming at her. Therefore, the root of this whole thing is why should we ask you when we know you'll get irritated somehow or the other? Idiotic irony isn't it?

She received her Honors in Sarcasm Studies

Sarcasm is to her what petrol is to a car - they're crucial and one party cannnot function without the other in it. All of her remarks are full of it, and there isn't a single conversation with her that does not contain any. It's depressing after awhile, listening to Gojira blaring her monotonous voice over and over every single day (except Sunday). It grows unbearable after the first few weeks, in which probably many who couldn't stomach the cruelty of her words have probably committed suicide by repeatedly trying to drown themselves in their coffee mugs. Maybe she's made some poor sod drink Paraquet and I won't even know it yet. Man this sucks.

She discovered the secret formula to Quickness In Every Crap Thing

It's always the same old thing - I want this fast, I want that now - without realising that a normal human can just do so much within a given specific amount of time. Late a few seconds to put the JPEG file into her network shared folder after she's put down the phone and you're looking at your own funeral being arranged in advance, mi amigo. Unfortunately, the reason and logic part is somewhat missing from her brain structure as I see her screaming over the Intercom towards any employee unfortunate enough not to accomplish the above task within a hundreth of a milisecond after she hangs up the phone.

She was awarded Most Insane Office Rules 2005 & Beyond

Every single rule and management style in the office is splashed with Communist Red. Just within the first week of employment I have been hearing about the most inane and ridiculous rules ever been uttered by any "so-called" self-respecting, all-knowing, 100%-right employer. It's not so much so rules that make sense like "No MSN chatting during office hours", but rather like "I demand every single one of you low-life organisms to reach me via the Intercom before you come knocking on my glass door". She just hates that. I have no idea why. Part of my brain reasons that she's doing this on purpose to elevate herself into some sort of "high and mighty" level caste. The other part tells me she's an idiot. And as the meetings droned on, I sensed some rules were just made up along the way to protect herself while alienating the rest. A good example would be an incident just days ago when one of the female sales personnel, unhappy with a certain supplier for not keeping to his critical promise, phoned him and taught him the meaning of Hell. Fine. Problem was, the same supplier was a good friend of Ms. Mafioso. Although in the right, the saleslady got an earful of four-lettered words with the excuse being all sales personnel had no right whatsoever to come into direct contact with any supplier. Thus, a new inane rule was made whenever she saw fit. As simple as that. But here's the real kicker - Even though all sales personnel are forbidden to come into any direct contact with the supplier, the only person exempted is... surprise surprise, Ms. Mafioso's own brother, who is also a sales person. Lovely rule, ain't it?

She was voted Number One in Making The Most Adversaries

Trust me; it's only because she has such power in her own family-run business that everyone is constantly pretending NOT to be pissed off with her (and her sleeping partner who happens to be the CEO. Literally sleeping partner since they're both living together unmarried and sharing the same bed at night. An unholy union if you ask me). But in reality, I can safely assure you all that once (and if) her empire were to crumble suddenly without anything left, a lot of them will be reaching for the nearest chainsaws and pitchforks and proceed to bestow upon the two a million times of death, with Dragon Lady's personal assistant leading the pack in jungle fatigues and army boots, toting a big-ass machinegun.

EPILOGUE
Yeah the environment's as depressing as those post-apocalyptic worlds of Mad Max or the Matrix, but perhaps getting hooked up to a machine or fighting in any battlefields crawling with Krauts isn't so bad.