How to give the Silent Treatment 101

My latest wife of 5++ years, she is my third after all, (and has it been so long?) is I’m typing this blog, giving the mother of all women’s weapons!

Yeah, yeah, the royal, icy, not-speaking-to-you-unless-you-say-sorry-or-drop-dead-or-vapourise treatment.

But, as always, she has got it all wrong.

Let’s start with how. . . hmmm, maybe not, let’s start at the very beginning. Yeah, let’s.

My bosses. They are to be blamed. They have whined about my tardiness, arriving after 10 am every morning. Well, it finally was the last straw for little Fook Fighter. He was the farking boss and nobody must in later than His Majesty. So one Fryday or was it Thursday?

Never mind, I came in 11:45. I had worked till past 10 pm the previous night so I thought I could sneak in just a tad late.

Wrong.

It was almost, “Off with his head…”

The junior Fook screamed like a little girl hurling abuse after abuse at me while Senior Fook looked on trying to calm him down. I was devastated of course. Or pretended to be, apologising profusely.

My solution was to get myself a motor bicycle. That should solve the auto grid-lock problem. You see, where I stay, it’s near impossible to make 9 am at the office.

It’s either too early or late or very late.

If I wish to make it to 9 am, I have to leave my home by 7:30. which means I have to be up an hour earlier.

That’s bloody six farking thirty o clock you mean, calculating jerk. I’m not an early person, so this kind of throws in a gigantic spanner into the normal operation of my body and mind.

Senior Fook kept on offering peace gestures like, “..just get in by 10 lah diamond…”.

But that ain’t good enough for the little Fook douche bag.

He even got creative, “…no excuses diamond! What if we give you the excuse that we can’t pay your salary because Mr. Fook is in China and unable to sign your check…”

Like that ah? Stuff it then.

On second thoughts. Oh alright, I do need that wonder fool job that you have offered me. Associate Creative Director and in brackets “copywriter”.

Oh, fuck me, can’t even get the position right. What’s an “Associate Creative Director and in brackets “copywriter” anyway?

A copywriter is a copywriter and an Associate Creative Director is, guess what, is an Associate Creative Director. Whether he/she is copy-based or art-based need not be explained lah dude. You understand what I’m saying? What a bunch of ignorant ass holes.

Anyway, back to the story. Let’s settle. I get in early, and I get…yeah, nothing. Maybe a couple of brownie points to buy brown shit.

Sweet.

So. Because of that my ingenious solution is to get a bicycle with motor to solve it.

Big problem. Beeeeg.

Wifee hates it. She will now have to worry whether I’ll be coming home in one piece. Every night. At night, as you know, most people need to sleep.

Well I don’t. I have got this handy disease called OCD. GFGI if you want to know what sort of magical disease this is. Clue: a famous billionaire had it. It was made into a movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Okay no need to farking google it, here it is:

 

2 would-be KLX 250 pillion riders

The Aviator (2004)
170 min – Biography | Drama – 30 December 2004 (Malaysia)
7.6/10

A biopic depicting the early years of legendary director and aviator Howard Hughes’ career, from the late 1920s to the mid-1940s. The film won 5 Oscars.

Director: Martin Scorsese
Writer: John Logan
Stars: Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett and Kate Beckinsale

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338751/

Anyway. The reason the old battle axe is giving me the royal treatment is because I flipped and flopped. I sort of agreed not to buy a bicycle with motor. Then I decided, “yeah, why not? should go some ways to solve my mid-life crisis.”

I have a mid-life crisis?

Hey who hasn’t?

It’s a good reason to rest anyway. My good doctor has decided that two days of rest should put me on the steady road of recovery. No work, no stress.

Hey Doc, what about the stress at home?

Hmmm. Take a look at my new bicycle (with attached motor) and see if you think it’s worth all the trouble of suffering in silence?

Hallo, helmet pun sudah beli (Malay for: I’ve already fucking bought the helmet). So, let’s ride. Life’s a beach. Then you hit a bitch at 10 kph. And you die.

God bless you and your own.

 

And I pray the treatment will continue indefinitely, God it’s been so peaceful lately. And the number one dotter is harassing her to buy a Japanese Chin (only 1,000 ringgit, it’s a bargain).

So. Like that loh.

 

Catch you later sooting, pathetic story huh?