Category: What da f***!!

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One

Just the other day as I was having dinner with Wifey at a mall near our place, in walked a couple whom I presumed to be lecturers at a nearby college. One is Caucasian man, the other a local woman of Indian descent. The Caucasian man asked about Malaysia and its people, and the Malaysian lady tried her best to explain the “melting pot concept of the people of Malaysia and especially so, its gastronomical delights. The man later remarked how well-blended everything and everyone is here in Malaysia whereas in the United States, for you to see the African-Americans in the Bronx, and Asian-Americans, you’d probably have to go to Queens; the Jews in Manhattan, and the Whites probably on Staten Island.

I smiled to myself, half-proud being a Malaysian to hear such a remark. Half-proud because while what was mentioned is true, we Malaysians still behave as if we all come from different countries. In KL at least, we all eat by the respective ethnic groups, we only mingle in the office but after that I’m a Malay and you’re a Chinese while he is an Indian, and that blur one who keeps getting lost on the roads just came from either Sabah or Sarawak. As I have written before, the nation and its people were so much cohesive just two years after the race riots of 1969 and this continued to hold true until the early 1980s. After that, race relations seem to be under a malediction.

I put the blame on the politicians (from all political parties) who continue to sow seeds of hatred and racism amongst the population, and the religious zealots and bigots who are Puritan in nature and are always unhappy when others are. And believe what you want and support what you may, all right-wing organisations should be abolished and never allowed to exist – and PERKASA has to be the first one to go.

I, who was brought up to consider other Malaysians as brothers, can only continue to wonder if the brother who is not a Malay would consider me as his brother too, or other Malays would consider others as his Malaysian brother, or would those monsters called hatred and racism rear their head somewhere when the time is right?

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Is It Good Now That Everyone Can Fly?

My first commercial flight I think was from KUL (now SZB) – MKZ and then onto JHB. That was in 1974. Yes, they used to fly to Melaka (Batu Berendam) too those days. Going on a plane used to be a big thing that some people would even go to the tailor to make a suit just for the purpose of going on a flight to somewhere, even a short haul one. And I remember Malaysia Airlines System (now Malaysia Airlines) used to give away blue sling bags with the old red WAU logo – ones you could fit in a nightstop kit plus some clothes. I used to use them as my schoolbag and my classmates would look at the bag with awe. Those days too you could take away the in-flight meal. I don’t remember what they used to serve back then but I know it was something delicious. Even back in the 1980s people would still dress up to get on a flight, and I wore a three-piece suit when I went off to England after the SPM exams.

Then came Richard Branson and Virgin Airlines. And it was so much cheaper to cross the Atlantic. Soon, the dress code was done away with and everyone could fly. And with the advent of Air Asia, everyone truly could fly…albeit virtually everyone.

Air Asia at a point of time did not have seat numbering and you could sit anywhere you liked. But with security issues becoming more serious, and to ensure passengers queued in a more orderly manner, they introduced the seat-numbering system, and with that, introduced hot seats where they could charge passengers for those seats for a fairly bit more.

Wifey and I were on an Air Asia flight very recently, flying back to KL. When the announcement came on air that the plane that was to take us back to KL had just landed, the passengers rushed to queue. For the life of me I have no frigging idea why. The plane was still going to take-off whenever it was ready, and each passenger is assigned a seat. So, why the rush? I guess since everyone could fly, it also means that every idiot with enough money to book a seat could get on board too! Or, is it just a Malaysian thing to rush?

Once we were seated, these passengers seated across the aisle were like first timers on a plane. When the purser announced that it was a no-smoking flight and that the use of mobile phones is prohibited, the man got his phone out and made a call. Then, both of them (they were husband and wife, apparently travelling in a family group) got up to change seats once the safety demonstration was completed. First, the husband got up and found an empty seat in the forward section. The wife looked worried being left behind, rushed to the rear section to find an empty seat nearer to her kinsfolk. As the aircraft taxied to the runway, she rushed to her husband to pass him his bottle of mineral water. The husband never wore his seat belt because as the engine was powered up for takeoff, I saw him got up half way to signal something to his wife, or to one of his relatives behind us.

Once the aircraft was in the air, and even before the seat-belt sign was switched off, one of them rushed to the washroom forward.

Then when we were already at cruising altitude, another man got up from his seat, and sat in the seat where the couple originally sat. He put up all the arm rests, and lie down to sleep. But sleep he did not. A little later, he got up and opened the overhead compartment to get his carry-on luggage, took out a book, got back to the seat and started reading.

Then, there was the sound of a bird chirping. Apparently, three rows in front of me, a guy was playing with his PSP. I’m sure he could have used an earphone, or turned down the volume, but he did neither. Dinner was soon served, and once that was over, everyone of us was in the mood to catch a nap as we were still two hours away from our destination.

Soon, the man who was reading the book got up again and went for his carry-on luggage. This time he took out this little bristle so he could brush his teeth while reading the frigging book. The act of brushing and flossing was coupled with the hissing sound of him trying to suck out food fragments from between his teeth or inside his cavities.

I fell asleep, but not for long, when one of the kinsfolk of the couple mentioned started to talk and joked in the most annoying and coarse voice that reverberated inside the cabin. This went on for almost another minute more when a very annoyed Wifey, whose sleep was disturbed, did the loudest

“SHHHHHHHHH!”

Then the cabin fell quiet again.

And that chirping sound came on again. Bloody annoying, but I was already too tired by then to pay any attention.

Somehow, one can never be in a deep sleep as one could when not everyone could fly. The guy who brushed his teeth while reading his book got up again, kicked my foot in the process, went for his carry-on luggage again and got something else out. I shut my eyes again.

Did I get to sleep? No! Soon, I heard the sound of someone shuffling on his seat. Apparently, the guy, whose ass was on seat ‘C’, was leaning against the window next to seat ‘A’ and was pulling a piece of cloth from his ear! He looked at the already yellow tip of the cloth, and stuffed it into his shirt’s pocket. And he took out the bristle from the same pocket and brushed his teeth again. I thought only Mr Bean would be capable of something like that.

Soon, it was time for us to land. In preparation, the purser told all passengers to put their seat upright, tray tables secured, and to turn off all electronic equipment. Then, the cabin lights were dimmed for landing.

Then, that chirping came on again. I saw a faint glow emitted from the seat three rows in front of me. I suppose while everyone could fly, not everyone understood either English or Malay, even though they are Malaysians.

The plane continued to dive on finals, and at the last moment, the engines were throttled back, and the aircraft flared, bringing it into the nose-up position. Everything fell silent while we waited for the undercarriages to touchdown onto the runway.

Then, the undercarriages touched down. Simultaneously, a woman’ exclaimed, breaking the deafening silence:

“MA HAI CHEE BYE!”

I remember how hard I tried to control myself from bursting out laughing. Wifey was already in tears controlling herself from laughing out loud.

The plane soon slowed down and taxied to the parking apron.

And the idiotic chirping never stopped…

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Where Are You From?

Pagi tadi, aku check Inbox E-mail office aku. Macam biasa, selain dari E-mail mengenai kerja, aku dapat juga beberapa E-mail daripada orang-orang yang mencari pekerjaan. Ada satu E-mail, mintak jawatan assistant aku (dalam org chart tak ada jawatan assistant aku) dari seorang mamat. Dia tak sebut dari mana dalam resume dia, tapi nama dia bukan nama typical American mahupun British…tapi nama mat salleh. Contact details yang ada hanyalah E-mail address yang lain dari E-mail address yang dia kirimkan resume dia, dan satu phone number. Aku tak hafal IDD codes, jadi aku tak tau dia dari mana.

So, aku pun call la nombor yang dia kasi sebab nak clarification about where he’s from.

“Yes, tell me!” jawab suatu suara.

Okay, aku rasa aku pernah dengar ayat yang sama lebih kurang 4 tahun yang silam. Biasa disuarakan oleh mereka yang berasal dari India.

“Is this Mr Tommy?” aku bertanya.

“Yes, he is this. Who are you?” tanya beliau.

Aku pun cakap la kat dia aku siapa, dan aku cerita jugak aku terima resume beliau. Lalu aku sambung dengan bertanyakan asal beliau:

“I would like to know where you are from, Mr Tommy?”

“POOON-NEY!” jawab beliau.

Aku tergelak gila. Terus aku tekap mouthpiece dan ketawa macam sial. Drilling Engineer aku pandang kat aku dengan muka penuh pelik. Lalu aku pasang speakerphone dan tanya lagi sekali asal beliau:

“I’m so sorry. Where are you from again?”

“I’m coming from Pune India,” jawab Tommy. Macam tak ada comma. Laju aje PUNE INDIA dia tu. “My father also coming from Pune India.”

Driiling Engineer aku ketawa terbahak-bahak dan lari keluar dari office aku. Aku boleh dengar dia ketawa sekuat hati. Aku rasa nak pecah perut dan terus letak telefon.

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New Look, Old Style

That's the way ahak ahak...I like it ahak ahak

After having very little sleep and having to go to work at the rig from 6am ’til 5.30pm daily, I decided to change the theme of this webpage. Hopefully, it is more refreshing than it was previously – just so there is change. Much like everything else in life such as politics, that seem to have undergone some changes – but only to reveal later that everything’s very much the same whether you have chosen others to administer your state or otherwise.

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Makcik-Makcik

Since my transfer to this office, I have seen many makciks. I swear there are more makciks than there are men here all four blocks combined, and all because there is a government department housed here, taking up two whole floors. Unless you include the Arab men who always hang at the Coffee Bean outlet downstairs. But they don’t work here. They just hang around for nothing.

There are five F&B outlets and one convenience store located at this complex. Only one of the F&B outlets allow you to have meals for less than RM10 inclusive of drinks and fruits. Therefore, that one is always filled to the brim with people. I am normally in the office by 5 past 8am. After reading and replying to my e-mails, I would go down for a bite and tea. That would be around 9.15am. You will see these makciks talking but not listening to themselves. That is because when one hits the 125dB limit, the other will just hit the roof with her reserve high-pitch capability. They would be wearing this government department’s tag. And they were there at 9.15am.

And although my lunchtime is from noon for an hour, I would normally go down at 1pm. That el-cheapo outlet would still be filled to the brim with these makciks. So, usually I’d go to the nearby mamak that would slaughter me with a RM15 lunch sans drinks. I am just too lazy to cross the road to eat at a somewhat pricey ikan bakar joint behind one of the first tall structures in this area.

This morning, I had breakfast at 9.15am. As usual, the place was filled to the brim. The din the makciks were making was short of medieval torture, for lucky me (only this instance), I suffer from tinnitus; therefore noise in whatever form, hardly makes any difference to me. There was this makcik (who is probably 5 years younger than I am, but look far older) who was bitching about her husband who dropped her off on the wrong side of the road this morning. She went on and on and on about how she screamed at her husband, and how the husband looked petrified after the scolding. I would too if I were married to her! And she wouldn’t have to even scream for me to look like that! She has that face like she has never known orgasm before! She reminds me of a former coursemate of mine who’s a year younger, but looks like she’s qualified for old-age pension.

When I left the table, she was still there with her friends who were trying to pry for more juicy stories.

Then I decided to have an early lunch today – early by my standards. By noon I was already at the F&B place. There were bank workers queuing up for packed lunch, then there was a group of noisy makciks sitting at one corner.

IT WAS THE SAME GODDAMNED GROUP OF MAKCIKS, AND THE SAME MAKCIK WAS STILL TALKING ABOUT HOW HER USELESS HUSBAND DROPPED HER OFF ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!!!

Don’t these people ever work?

So, there I was, eating my lunch while listening to a re-run of “how my bastard of a husband dropped me off on the wrong side of the road” praying with every heartbeat that her husband finds a hottie who would blow him every other minute or so in front of this annoying and noisy bitch.

Then it dawned upon me that I’d be listening to similar stories from her tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after…

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OMG

Chaos seems to rule these days.

School has just re-opened: chaos.

That adds up to the slightly more than normal volume of traffic that you and I have been enjoying for the past month and a half or so: chaos.

My office day now starts at 8am: chaos

The court allowing the Catholic magazine, Herald, to use the term Allah to represent God and the objection by Malaysian Muslims: chaos.

The term God has been defined by the Cambridge Dictionary as:

(in especially Christian, Jewish and Muslim belief) the being which made the universe, the Earth and its people and is believed to have an effect on all things

In short, God is THE supreme mono-entity. He is referred to differently in different languages: Tuhan, Dieu, Gott, Deus. They all refer to the same entity. They only differ in terms of language.

I read a column where a disgruntled Muslim wrote:

Pertama: kalimah Allah adalah nama khas, bukan kata terbitan daripada mana-mana perkataan Arab. Justeru, ia bukan boleh digunakan sebagai kata ganti bagi menterjemahkan sesuatu perkataan daripada bahasa lain. (Firstly, the term Allah is a special noun that does not derive from any Arabic word. Therefore, it cannot be used to replace the same term derived from another language).

Hmm. If it is not an Arabic word, I wonder where did that word derived from.

He went on to say:

Sebagai bandingan seorang yang bernama Mr. Black tidak boleh ditukarkan namanya kepada Encik Hitam kalau kita berbicara tentangnya dalam bahasa Melayu kerana nama itu adalah nama khas yang merujuk kepada orang yang tertentu. (As a comparison surely a person by the name of Mr Black cannot have his name referred to in Malay as Encik Hitam because a special noun only refers to a specific person)

I think this person needs to know the root from which the name Allah is derived. And he continued:

Kedua: memang benar kalimah itu telah sedia wujud dan digunakan oleh orang Arab semenjak sebelum Islam, akan tetapi itu tidak bermakna mereka memahami maknanya yang hakiki. (Secondly, it is true that the term has existed and used by the pre-Islam Arabs, but that does not mean they knew the actual meaning).

Again, this person needs to know the root from where Allah is derived.

As I have noted at the beginning of this post, the term God refers to a supreme mono-entity that made the universe, the Earth and its people and is believed to have an effect on all things. Therefore, we worship Him as our Maker. Now, why Him, and not Her?

Muslims, Jews and Christians, otherwise known of People of the Books, worship the same God – the God of Abraham. Arabs of all faiths, be they Muslims, Jews or Christians, refer to God as Allah. The word itself is derived from two Arabic words: AL (The), and ILAH (God). When these two words are joined together to form a noun, they are shortened to just ALLAH, which is a masculine form. This has been the name used to refer to THE ONE GOD (ho theos monos) that the “descendants” of the people of Abraham have been worshiping. This is evident in the Aramaic word for God: Elaha, and the Syriac Alaha.

Hundreds, if not thousands of years later, the Arabs were split into three – the Christians, the Jews, and the Pagans. They still worshiped Allah, The One God. The concept of worship differed. For the Christians, they embraced the concept of the Holy Trinity: God the Father (Allah al-Ab), God the Son (Allah al-Ibn) and God the Holy Spirit (Allah arRuhul Qudus).

The Pagan Arabs, believed that Allah, has three daughters: Manat, Al-Lat a.k.a Al-Lata (this is Allah in the feminine form – and many Malay women carry this name because they’re parents did not know the significance), and Al-‘Uzza. So these were the giant statues found inside the Kaabah and was destroyed by Muhammad when the Muslims finally went back to Mecca.

The Jews, like the Muslims later, hold on to the concept of mono-entity (Tauhid).

God, or Allah if you wish to call Him, is the God to ALL, not just Muslims, or Jews, or Christians; and Allah is not just the God to human beings! He is the God to ALL in this universe. This is given by the following ayyah:

“”We believe in the revelation that has come down to us and that which came down to you; our God and your God are One, and it is to Him that we bow” (29:46)”

Allah, is just an Arabic noun. The One God has 99 Beautiful Names. Before He created anything, before He was worshiped, He wasn’t Rabb (also another Arabic word for God). He wasn’t Allah. He was, and still is al-Awwal (The Beginning).

So, why get so uptight over a name? Only Muslims in Malaysia seem to think that the name Allah is specialised and sacred. To me, call Him Allah, Rabb, The One God, Tuhan Yang Esa or whatever, the most important thing is, you know in your heart that He is The Supreme Being, the One and Only. If you hold that to your heart, you won’t go wrong. No one can steer you away from your faith if you truly believe in that.

So, Muslims, don’t get uptight over one word. Allah is referred to as Allah because it was and still is the only Arabic word that describes The One God, but He is also referred to by many names in the Quran. We Malaysian Muslims always make a fuss over things, but always forget the basics and blaspheme in a very common way that we show our love to God and his prophet, Muhammad (pbuh).

I’ll give you an example: in our office, we have the pictures of the King and Queen, and the Prime Minister and his Deputy. How do we arrange these pictures on the wall? Do we put them side by side? Of course not! The pictures of the PM and his Deputy will have to be placed slightly lower because both the King and the Queen are of a different level and status.

How do we place the framed khats of Allah and Muhammad? Why is Muhammad the same level as Allah is? Isn’t that a deviation in our Aqidah?

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Takong

Previously, this floor had been a happy and clean floor. I had a good time dumping crap, as many as 3 times a day here. There was only one other company housed across the floor.

Then, sometime mid this year, another company moved to this floor, located, too, across the floor. That was when the toilet started getting dirty, and I had to scold some Kampung Punya Anak Haram at one point.

After Aidil Fitri, another two companies moved in across the floor, and I try not to go dump crap there anymore if I have to….like unless it would be detrimental to my image (and pants). I cannot believe the toilet manners and etiquette of the employees of these companies – several times I caught them not flushing after urinating (let alone wash hands after); there would be tissue paper strewn all over the toilet floor. Some would be at the base of the rubbish bin (not inside, for some weird reason). There would be fresh pee spattered on the floor beneath the urinal bowls. These people must have snail for dick or something.

Just today, one yuppie came into the toilet, stood at the urinal next to where I was, unzipped his fly, and all I saw was urine shooting out from don’t know what (cos I doubt he has a dick), and it hit the rim of the bowl, splashed on the floor. Then he zipped up his pants, and walked to the wash basins. No, he didn’t flush. Neither did he wash his hands. He proceeded to press the zits on his face.

After flushing, I walked over to the wash basin to wash my hands. There was zit juice and blood on the wall mirror where he stood, and also inside the wash basin. Then he combed his hair and proceeded to the door. I was pissed. I scolded him:

“Mak bapak engkau tak ajar ke lepas kencing flush?”

He just stared at me and said nothing. As he was halfway out, I screamed at him:

“Lain kali jilat la nanah jerawat engkau tu!”

I went after him and shouted:

“Bodoh! Dasar mak bapak main dengan babi!”

He ran away.

I can’t wait to move to my new office now.

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Eat, Drink, and be….MARY

Aku pergi pharmacy petang tadi. Masa nak bayar, aku pun beratur la kat belakang ada sorang mamat pelik ni. Dia pakai jacket macam saleswoman, seluar ala-ala palazzo. Rambut greasy macam Mat Rempit tapi curled kat bottom.

Bila tiba turn dia nak bayar, dia pun terus bersuara kepada cashier pompuan ni dalam nada yang paling feminine:

“I baru join member. Member card I tak bawak.”

Lalu cashier pun tanya:

“Nama?”

“Mary.”

“Mary Arokiasamy?” (itu surname aku main tibai je)

“Tak. Mary. M-A-R-Y.”

“Mary Lee Lan Chao?”

“Tak. Mary Mubin. M-U-B-I-N.”

Puas la budak cashier ni cari…tapi tak jumpa. So budak cashier ni pun tanya nama mengikut dalam IC. Terus dalam nada suara yang lagi dalam dan garau dari suara aku, persis Jamal Abdillah yang off-key, Mary menjawab:

“MO-HA-MAD-MU-BIN.”

Terus budak tu jumpa nama dan membership number dia. Mamat tu pun bayar dan terus keluar dari pharmacy tergesa-gesa.

Cashier tu pandang muka aku, tak tau dia nak gelak ke atau apa. Aku pun tak tau aku nak gelak ke atau apa. Tapi yang aku tau, ini kena cepat-cepat balik tulis blog.

Patut la ada satu joke yang berbunyi:

“Why do transvestite love to party?”

“Because they get to eat, drink, and be MARY.”

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Selamat Hari Raya, Monkey! You Wanna Be A Korban?

Stupid Ape

One of the reasons the Glaucoma Monkey agreed to grant divorce to Wifey was Wifey’s reluctant agreement to let him have unlimited visitation rights to see the kids.

And Wifey has been fair towards him, letting him see the kids, and I have been playing along with this arrangement because I know how it feels as a father being away from the kids.

Ever since their divorce, the Monkey (as he will be referred to in this article) has only given Wifey RM150 early in January 2008 for the upkeep and nothing more since then. And even before marrying Wifey, I took over the role as the provider, and have been since.

And since it is going to be Hari Raya Korban, Wifey sent him a text to ask him if he would want to take the kids for Hari Raya and spend time with them. And sice Wifey and I would be away this weekend, she thought it’s best if he could inform earlier and arrangements can be made. His reply was:

“I will see them anytime. Anytime for me means anytime.”

And I thought to myself,

“What a rude bastard!”

Therefore, the best way is for this is for me to butt in. So, I sent him a text:

“From now on, if you want to see the kids, make plans earlier. This anytime is my time does not apply anymore since I am the head of this house. And I’m feeding them. Not you. Understand?”

His reply came:

“Understand head feeder.”

Bastard’s being rude again. So I just wanted to send him a subtle reminder of what could happen to him if he doesn’t toe the line:

“You better. Otherwise I’ll feed sense into your head.”

He replied:

“Already have. No tq.”

Dasar queer yang bacul. Tau pulak takut. One fine day, if he so much as breathes wrongly, I’ll whack that bastard Monkey again.

For past encounters with the Monkey, go to the following links:

Spank The Monkey

Penat-Penat Charles Darwin Mengeluarkan Teorinya: Beruk Punya Monyet

Spank The Glaucoma Monkey