So you want to be an Editor?

1. Operator MYR 1,800 4 years Bach Degree Manufacturing
2. Graphic Designer MYR 2,000 0 Bach Degree Advertising
3. ADMIN TELEMARKETING SALES MYR 2,000 5 years Secondary Sch Customer Service
4. Freelance Arts Teacher MYR 2,300 8 years Bach Degree Entertainment
5. Intern MYR 2,500 0 Bach Degree IT-Software
6. Customer Service Executive MYR 2,500 3 years Bach Degree Tech & Helpdesk Support
7. Educationalist MYR 2,500 4 years Master Education
8. Journalist MYR 2,600 0 Bach Degree Journalist/Editors
9. Trainee MYR 2,700 0 Bach Degree Journalist/Editors
10. Administrative Aide MYR 3,000 0 Master Clerical/General Admin
11. Full Stack Developer MYR 3,000 3 years Bach Degree IT-Software
12. Citiphone Officer MYR 3,000 3 years Bach Degree Customer Service
13. Research Assistant MYR 3,000 4 years Bach Degree Education
14. IT Executive MYR 3,000 4 years Diploma IT-Network/Sys/DB Admin
15. Senior Executive MYR 3,000 8 years Bach Degree Manufacturing
16. English Teacher (Part Time) MYR 3,200 2 years Bach Degree
17. System Analyst MYR 3,300 3 years Bach Degree IT-Network/Sys/DB Admin
18. Multimedia Designer/ web developer MYR 3,500 3 years Bach Degree Arts/Creative Design
19. Copywriter MYR 3,500 3 years Bach Degree
20. Fraud Protection Executive cum Social Media Executive MYR 3,500 5 years Bach Degree Banking/Financial
20. Journalist MYR 3,500 6 years Diploma
21. Deputy Editor MYR 7,500 19 years Bach Degree Journalist/Editors

As of April 24, 2019 8:00am, twenty one hopefool (I mean people with big hopes not fools) have applied for a Web Editor position in a reputed education institution.

The ad states at least one year’s experience is required. Can you count how many have zero (0) years up there? What’s wrong with these five people? Oh, hopefool I guess.

Furthermore, only those with Bachelor’s degree or higher need apply. How many hopefools again?

Fine. Times are hard.

But potentially paying peanuts (no salary range was listed but I am guessing the market range of less than MYR2,500) to get a Deputy Editor (21st hopefool in the list) with 19 years’ experience? Well, he or she wishes for MYR7,500 or higher.

Best of luck to you then.

And if you are lucky you will get a warm letter, like so:


Hello Ms Hopefool, 

Thank you for your interest in the Web Editor position at Swill Pit University. We have reviewed your application. Unfortunately, you are not the right fit for the position at this time. 

I am sorry for the disappointing news. Best of luck in your job search. 


Oooh, who’s a bitter bitch then?

Okay. Fine. It’s me. Six months of applying for hopefool jobs has done it in for bitchy me.

Say to self: Do not lose hope. Your faithful God has one job specifically planned out for you. Yeah, just like that Operator (number 1. in list) who has four years in manufacturing aspiring to be a Web Editor. Okay, cruel joke. Again, what’s wrong with you people?

Alrighty then, just like that hot actress in “Gone with the wind” gushes: There is always a tomorrow.




Oh, so you want to be a CD?

This is part one, in which I let you in on my dark, macabre, closely-guarded secret

Depending on who you ask, the acronym “CD” can throw up a couple of common and uncommon meanings.

Most common would be our ubiquitous “compact disc”. But if you are fortunate (or not) to work in the advertising industry, now upgraded to be known as the “communication and marketing business”, the CD is a mighty title that will make any aspiring copywriter or art director shiver in fear.

Go watch the “Mad Men” TV series and you will catch my drift.

And then we have the prima donna art director or “AD”. Does she actually direct art? Not forgetting her partner in crime, the copywriter or “CW”. Does he shamelessly copy copy? That’s not a double entre by the way.

“Copy” in the la la land of advertising is code for the carefully crafted bunch of words meant to persuade the unsuspecting pundit to dig deep into her limited edition Birkin handbag for yet another limited, only-999-in-the-fashion-world-must-add-to-your-collection of 99 Birkins you already own. You simply cannot have too many of them Bs I have been convinced to understand. Just ask that pretend “First Lady”.

But, as usual, I digress.

What I desire to share with you today, gentle reader, is my unknowing affliction of this so-called disease known as “OCD”. Oh C D, get it? Oh, never mind.

Obsessive. Compulsive. Disorder.

Why it’s a disorder I will never know. Because, in my simple-minded opinion, this disease is rather, shall we say, fun?

For me, as a die-hard artist, it is in my genes. Oh yes in my blood too. My grand pappy used to carve cork and stuffed them into a bottle. Very artistic. Pretty amazing. Couldn’t feed the family on that tho.

Anyway. if you are so blessed to be suffering from it, it can bring out a yet undiscovered creativity in you. In an interesting way.

“Interesting” is relative of course, depending on what floats your boat. For instance, I go gaga over my nine ringgit crew cut, while some other people (who have been saving since a little kid) may think paying 1k for a hair do is oh-so-yesterday.

Speaking of throwing moolah around: Howard Hughes, that eccentric billionaire, had OCD and he could not stop washing and washing his hands. For months. Or was it years?

He was so terrified of imaginary germs that he locked himself in a dark room, never venturing out. Never shaving or cutting his hair which had grown to shoulder length. The year? 1935.

And he kept washing his hands. The most interesting thing, oh, it’s that word again, was that he skulked around without a single thread of clothes on his germ-less body.

Yes, you read that right: stark naked in a dark, dank room. Well, maybe not dank, I added that for cheap effect.

You can actually watch his stupendous transformation, not unlike our very own country’s very-soon transformation into a developed nation by the magical year of 2020, in a based-on-a-true-story flick with a rather dry title.

“The Aviator” was a mega blockbuster, as the PR love to punt, and it featured that titanic-ly handsome Encik DiCaprio.

Interestingly, Hughe’s story is about how he pioneered airplanes. But please, don’t even let me start on private jets.

You can bet your last ringgit it is Hollywood at its glamorous best. Be assured that a bevy of gorgeous babes will be taking part as well. Real life actresses like Ava Gardner, XXXXX, et al. Otherwise, which hot-blooded dude would want to endure 180 minutes of pure torture watching a nude, hairy man and his antics?

Picture 052

and how many ccs are them cylinders please?

Definitely not a chick flick, I kid you not.

So. Where, for heaven’s sake, is this long-winding, cheong hei (Cantonese, meaning long winding) tale merrily leading up the garden path to?

What’s my point? What is the moral of the story as Ming for PM of Epic Asian You Tube fame loves to conclude.

When will I ever get to that insightful part in which I share my OCD journey and how I eventually used that blasted, blessed disease to my advantage?

That, my poor darling, will be in part two. Same page, next week. Or maybe next year.

Because, as gone-with-the-wind actress Vivien Leigh professed: “tomorrow is . . . (dramatic pause) . . . another day”. Curtains, please.

Hey, surely as the sun will rise in the west tomorrow, I need to work up to be able to afford that transformational thousand-ringgit hair make-over without flinching a single strand of hair.

Betul, tak?

Enjoysssssss eh:



So this is how a constructive dismissal is constructed

1000 Wednesday 18 April 2012: A Happy Conciliation Meeting at Industrial Relation’s Office

(All names, places have been changed to protect me)

0845. I arrived at 2800 Jalan Ammunition. Jabatan Perhubungan Perusahaan Kementerian Sumber Indonesia.

Thank goodness I rode my trusty KLX 250s off-road motorcycle.

It’s early. Let’s go get coffee. Uh…where’s my wallet? Don’t tell me I forgot my wallet in my rush to get here?

Yes, no wallet. No money. No identification card.

Should I panic now or later? Call wife. She tells me to lie to them: I have lost my wallet, not forgot. Fortunate to marry such a sweet lady. Not a dime a dozen you know. But that is another story.

Hmmm. Off I go up to eighth floor then.

Oh lookie, lookie my grand name is up there on the white board already. The moderator (Mod) is a lady by the name of Nur Azian binti Jamal. Ooh, and they have re-furbished the place.

Took picture of white board with my pink fuchsia-coloured Samsung Galaxy S (2012 yeah? Now got Vivo 9 and iPorn 6).

0930. Go for a quick pee. No sign of the majikan of Alice advertising agency.

Might as well be kay poh a bit. Chatted with a nice lawyer woman – she is the wife of another wrongly-dismissed executive, co-incidentally in the advertising industry as well. A DTP artist. His three other co-workers were fired by their studio manager, a wealthy woman of 40 plus who had joined later than them.

The wealthy bit should have some thing to do with the hasty dismissals. Perhaps her dad is one of the agency’s clients? The company is called WellCum berhad. Well, well a public company, and Australian-owned. This should be interesting. The caucasian country manager came in late. Typical. He looked quite flustered.

Good. Can’t treat the natives like trash you know.

The wife is a head-hunter too so we exchanged cards and LinkedIn addresses. I offered her the highly insightful iwantoteachyoutoberich link.

1020. The Alice chaps called Azlee inform the officer that they will be a tad late. The reason? Traffic jam – surprise, surprise, this must be a new occurrence in sleepy Kuala Lipis huh?

Jessica, the wife, told me she left her house at 0650 and arrived here at 0800 just to avoid the jam.

1035. Announcing the arrival of the owner and managing director of Alice, Jazz bin Omaha. He is accompanied by his entourage of one. His faithfool, I mean faithful, lap dog Ashwin Anamalala, with the title of account manager (but he insists he is the number two man, yeah whatever).

We are invited into bilik mesyuarat 3.

After being wished a very good morning by the mod, Jazz gets down to action. He pulls out a stack of signed documents by his slaves, I mean loyal, staff – all with valid complaints about the creative director (that’s me).

Every available weapon in his war chest was deployed, including sexual harassment, plans to convert the Malays to Christianity, threats to staff, sending nude pictures during working hours (you mean you can do that AFTER working hours? And what are our working hours? We are in the frigging advertising business for Christ’s sakes. We have no sense of time.)

“I have only joined one week and I have disrupted the harmony of his precious shop which took him 15 years to build.”

Yadda. Yadda.

And to prove a point, Jazz got really cocky.

He asked the mod, “Are you a Malay?”

Of course, she answered.

Then, he continued with, “Are you stupid?”

I went WTF?

The mod, wishing to be polite I guess, graciously answered, “Well, may be sometimes…”

Before she could finish, Jasmin looked at her and uttered these gems: “You are stupid. You are lazy. You should eat pig’s brains if you want to be smart…”

Again, I went WTF?

Then he explained himself. He accused me of saying the exact words to his staff.

Hallo, mana ada? When? Can you prove it?

But, hey seriously. Do you need to be so obscenely rude to a government officer? Where is the respect? How does it reflect on your upbringing?

The kurang ajar dude did apologise later. A bit late, I’m afraid, my dear jazzy man. You have already dug your own grave.

Let us focus, shall we? The reason you fired me is because, “My standards are too high and we (meaning Alice’s beloved, cherished, prized young staff) can’t cope…”

That is the most flattering reason I have ever heard for sacking some one! Duh, I thought you want me to help you guys to go up the next level?

And why did you not want to furnish me with the so-called payment voucher I have signed. I noted that they have scribbled some thing else on it. Some thing to the effect that the so-called payment voucher is my resignation letter.

Ash butts in and added that, “In fact, you told me to change it to consultancy services…”

Huh? Got meh? Don’t remember wor.

Jazz is so right. We should all take a lie detector test and see who is telling the biggest lies.

Oh, before I forget, Jazz even showed videos of his senior art director crying, howling, some dramatic teary moments anyway (because I criticised her work apparently).


So, what is the next step?

Mod speaks to them separately.

Then they exit. I go in.

Mod asks what do I want? Re-instatement please.

What if they do not wish to see my face any more? Well, since I only lasted a miserable one week, how about eight months’ pay in compensation for my horrendous suffering? Although the law states a maximum of 12.

I exit. They go in.

I go in again. Oh man, the feeling is mutual. I hate to see their faces too.

Nevertheless the show must go on. The outcome is: another meeting at the end of the month to reach a decision by the majikan.*

So be it.

Thank you Lord for allowing me a safe journey home. Remember I had no identification or money on me? Thank the good Lord I did not have to borrow money from the receptionist or the mod or the lawyer wife. I am sure they would not mind, but still, the embarrassment of it all. Me the klutz huh? Always has been, always will be.

And so a thankful Amen to this first frightful meeting.

*(November 8, 2018 update: Unfortunately, I did not attend the other meeting which was to be in PootraJaya. I became depressed. Or I got a new job. Forgot already, but this new termination on October 30 got me fired up to re-tell this epic episode of constructive dismissal).


To be continued … already advised by the officer to file for unfair dismissal.







Introducing Faye #2

So I got a really laughable price for Faye#1 (F1). Like RM8,000.

Freaking hilarious right? The 2015 KTM rc390 has just clocked 1,876km and recently shod with Maxxis brand street tyres (it was previously on slicks).

When the shop guy told me the damage was RM390, I said, “wokay, do it…”. Then he asked, what about the front tyre? Wait. What? RM390 is just for the 150×70 rear tyre?

Long story short I had to fork out another RM290 for the 110×70 tyre (for the front wheel).

As usual, I digress.

What I want to record is that I bought Faye#2 (F2) because of the horrible trade-in price I got for Faye#1.

So. F2 is a Taiwan-made number branded as SM Sport 110. The recommended retail price is RM4,100 but my new friend at Yee Heng Motorcycle Shoppe cut it down to RM3,985 for me. I also got a free raincoat, kiddy helmet and wheel lock (I don’t think I will use the lock tho).

BTW I also acquired another car. A 3-year-old silver Honda City. It has four exhaust pipes (oh my) and only done 50,000km. Wifee car apparently. This car was bought after exhaustive nagging by my darling saw por (you’ll have to google for its meaning). Pressing me to buy a new car*, saw por  stressed that a new vehicle won’t have any problems (as if?) for at least three years.


An interesting co-incidence: the City’s number is 6624, F2 is 6225. I shall place them next to each other and take a selfie. So yeah.

Laptop battery 37% remaining and I forgot the AC cable.

*Note that I was offered RM3,000 for my CBU 2004 Hyundai Getz which has just done 257,000km. I had bought it new with 62,000 of hard-earned ringgit. Adoi painfool nya.



Just as well. So I’m off then.


Why Faye needs new black panties

Before You dudes start thinking dirty, Faye is my ever faithful ride.

This is how she looks like:

Kidding. Here, I give you link, you lazy sod:

So how much is Faye this 3-year-old babe in 2015? Not sure. But you can purchase the 2018 KTM RC 390 ABS-Black from for RM29,692.94 less 3%; that is RM28,692.00.

If you have seriously fallen for Faye then you can take her home by paying (as low) as RM2,391.00 per month for 12 months. Not peanuts eh?

I am her second owner (traded in my Kawasaki KLX250 for only RM9,000, bought new for a whopping RM25,000. But then “scrambler” tak ada re-sale value).

This Faye’s first owner is a dude called Stephen Christopher Ewan (an Englander). He must have paid cash. Took her to Sepang, rode her kau kau (1) proven by the scrubbed walls on her tyre.

Faye is a member of an elite gila (2) club on facebook.
Wokay gotta go. Panties is them fucking tyres and I have to tukar them because her original Pirelli tyres are slick racing tyres yo?
Long story, short, I so noob I thought both tyres cost RM390 when the bike shop manager called to ask me if it’s ok to change them at that price. That was for the rear one only.
Front one (both Maxxis, made in Vietnam) set me back RM260. Labour is free (well, not actually I am sure they already made some from the tyres).
So. I am slightly poor today (Tuesday). Thank my dear Lord, my pay goes in tomorrow.
Until then can you spare me RM100?

Here’s the spec of Faye, the 2015 KTM rc 390:


Manufacturer Bajaj Auto and KTM
Production 2014 –
Assembly India
Class Sport bike
Engine 373.2 cc (22.77 cu in) single
Bore / stroke 89 mm × 60 mm (3.5 in × 2.4 in)
Top speed 167 km/h (104 mph)
Power 30.04 kW (40.29 hp) @ 8,600 rpm
Torque 32.92Nm@ 6,800rpm
Ignition type Bosch digital
Transmission Multi-plate wet clutch (slipper 2017–  ), 6-speed, X-ring chain
Frame type Single-piece steel trellis
Suspension Front: 43 mm WP telescopic fork, 150mm travel
Rear: mono-shock swingarm adj. preload, damping
Brakes ByBre (mother is Brembo)  ABS disc
Front: four-piston radial caliper, 300  (2013–2016) 320mm (2017– ) rotor
Rear: 230mm
Tires Pirelli Diablo Rosso II
Front: 110/70ZR17, Rear: 150/60ZR17
Raketrail 23.5°, 89 mm (3.5 in)
Wheelbase 1,340 mm (53 in)
Seat height 820mm (32 in)
Weight 147kg (324lb) (claimed, without fuel)
154.2kg (340.0lb) (estimated)
165.3kg (364.5lb)
Fuel capacity 10 litres (2.2 imp gal; 2.6 US gal)
Fuel consumption 4.17 – 4.06 litre/100 km; 67.7 – 69.7 mpg‑imp (56.4–58 mpg‑US)


  1. Kau kau. Hokkien, deep, deep or hard, hard.
  2. Gila. Malay, crazy, mad. 
  3. kk











The updated House Style of The Sore Hi (1) newspaper

I do  this, of course, with a few conditions. This noob (2) newbie Jesus (yes, there are people by that name, a lot of them from South America).

But, as always, aren’t I allowed to pause with one or two of eye candy?

adult attractive beautiful beauty

Photo by Pixabay on


Okay on with The Sore Hi newspaper definitive guide. Wait, I have to introduce to the bunch of desk heads who made it possible. Desks are not the meja meja (4) you are thinking of. The desks are the news desk, entertainment desks (very entertaining table huh?), sports desk, fashion + beauty desk, education desk and business desk.

All newspapers basically must have these desks. Unless it is a two-bit set-up.

Here is a link to a respected newspaper:

The Guardian is a British daily newspaper. It was known from 1821 until 1959 as the Manchester Guardian. Along with its sister papers The Observer and the Guardian Weekly, The Guardian is part of the Guardian Media Group, owned by the Scott Trust. Wikipedia

Now back to Sore Hi. The current managing editor is called Doggy Do (all the names used here are not their real names. Their original names, like all Malaysian names are more colourfool, like Chee Bai Nya, Setee Itbrahim, Ng Kok Miang, Bala Wala or Pao Kah Liow (how about you? got any to share?).

The chief sub-editor (and sub here does not in any way means sub standard but subbing the copy [not like copying that genius in class in exams] means text. He also ensures the story is not fake news of course. And a thousand other stuff. Maybe even a million.

The fake name I have given him is Wishy Washy Wasabi. This does not accurately describe him, but close enough. He certainly is as fiery as that green paste.

The kindly, soft-spoken production editor has an awesome name. Ko King Kong. Unfortunately he has not destroyed as many buildings as the real King Kong so far.

The deputy? Assistant? Chief sub editor in-waiting?

I do not know the official designation but he makes it very important and I have to respect that. Yes, we are talking about you, Strawberry Shorty. I wrote about him here:

relatedposts_hit=1&relatedposts_origin=1094&relatedposts_position=0He is so talented although a tad two-faced. Sneaky yet squeaky clean-looking. Fishy kind of a guy in short (pun intended).




Dedicated to the Prophet of Doom: A whole lotta love baby

So you need cooling down and a whole lotta love?

How to cool down lah when da cold bitch Siti Harum, mean, ever calculating bini nags, screams non-stop to junk dear sweet Vicky?

Rock to: Whole Lotta Love killed by Led Zeppelin

Wrong. Vicky is not my mistress, tai sarm chair. Would be fun if she was eh? She is just my naive, sweet Hyundai Getz. So? Cannot name my car ah?

A little background: This babe has 1,341cc of madu-like power under her hood. She was produced in S. Korea and brought over CBU (completely built up).

Her OTR (on the road) price was a piffling RM62,031.40 (I’ll explain that pfff piffling price later). I borrowed RM55,000 from EON bank to acquire her. Wah lao, so charm leh (in Hokkien, so pitiful), loan for 108 fucking months.

So to see it clearer:

  1. Downpayment: RM6,078.14.
  2. Loan: RM55,000.00.
  3. Instalment: RM600.00/month for 108 fucking months (sheesh).

The painful part was I had to sell my precious diesel-powered Mitsubishi Storm 2.5 (known as Strada in other markets). That time, diesel was generously lower than petrol so very, very cheap to run.

That freaking Mitsubishi Storm was already kitted out full blown (no Marcus Tang, no 20″ rims; that’s for gay boys who acquire these kind of trucks to back up their sissy ego, with an awe-fool colour choice, yes drama queen black) with snorkel, spot lights, off-road tyres, the lot. (I’ll post a picture of it when you remind me.)

So, why laah?

Ahem, well, let me explain: Siti Harum loh. We had already fallen deeply (literally) into a relationship. And, poor thing, she had to return the company car so now we need two cars. Simple right? Well, no. Being not as well off as me, we had to buy a pre-owned 1.6 Proton Waja for her.

But today (19 Sept, 2018)? She is drawing a monthly salary of up to RM8,000 and now sudah lan si, lan yong liao loh, action macnaction: rolling around in a brand new 1.5 Honda City

Anyway, back to that fateful day, being the gentleman that I am (that one quite hard to believe one i know but stay with me yo) I offered to let her drive my new Vicky (that time don’t know got name already or not). Anyway, things began to unravel when I signed my death warrant, I mean my marriage certificate.

That story aaah. You want to hear ah? You got time meh? It’s now 05:22am in Seri Kembangan (ya, sleepless in SK again) you know.

[ I’m updating this piece at 0340 Saturday, September 22, 2018 after strolling out for a new experience. Malay bubur. Fancy that? I chose a stalk of veg, some preserved veg, a salted egg, two mushrooms and a glass of hot ginger tea. The ingredients I chose were quickly cooked into a delicious dish. The bubur was lukewarm tho. ]

I tell you another day. Just remember to remind me, k?

Now, where was I?

I’m leading you up the garden path aren’t I? Be patient my gentle reader. The fun starts right now.

Vicky gets a little upset, throws a hissy fit tantrum

Vicky, being a typical vain Korean beauty decided not to fire up the motor one fine day. Had to change her starter motor.

Damage? RM395.

Then, one tyre got shredded, not a run-of-the-mill puncture mind you. had to change two tyres. Dunlop 16″ 55 @ RM200 apiece. So that’s another RM400.

The master stroke happened on Tuesday Sept 18. Every joe mechanic thought it was one of the switches but this Vicky damn cunning one.

Guess where?  Tell you tomolo (now is 0350, Saturday, Sept 22, 2018).


How to be a fierce-some OP writer without trying too hard:


As Paula (not Paula Abdul that celebrity, this one is an upcoming one) WhatsApped me: Switching off my fon. Available in messenger. Rest well and God bless … that God spoke to me:

“Diamond, Diamond,” the almighty lamented, why don’t you get off your fucking fat arse and help a fellow Christian?

Well, not exactly those exact words but you get my (sick) drift right?

Here’s the other P. Abdul doing what she does best:

(Let’s get this out of the way, I’m a cold-hearted merciless, calculating, strategising mother-fucking bad ass. So, if you just that itty bitty offended by my opinionated tone, please step back. I mean just fucking stop reading. We fine with that? Can continue?)

This is what I gently instructed P. Khoo to execute:


1. Let’s play-act.

2. Now, diamond koo (that’s me by the way) is your PA cum manager cum publicist cum pres sec.

3. You, your serene Highness izzz now a OP Celebrity.

4. I will feed you ideas/instructions/directions/ on what to write. INcluding how many words.

5. I call your attention to theSun‘s “Speak Up” article by Bhavani. It’s Tuesday, Sept 18, 2018, page 9.

6. Your serene Highness, THAT is now our fucking objective, to put it a tad crudely. Please excuse my French. We cunt be too shy about it.

7. Why is it our prime goal? Because: IT IS CURRENT (the LGBT, caning, child marriage). And it is an OPINION PIECE YO!!!

8. [at 2:57am, 9/19/2018] ah pek koo: 8. It should be from your heart. Do make it personal. ADD IT YOUR OWN PERSONAL STORIES. You see where i’m going with this? You, Paula, have just engaged with a motherfucking first-class OP coach for free. Free. Because I truly believe our good Lord has just gave me just a tiny nudge. You realise it’s now fucking 3am? Now, why do you think I was inspired to do this? Yes, Jesus Christ be praised.
9. [at 2:59am, 9/19/2018] ah pek koo: 9. Let’s do this. For God. Maybe along the way, we can even save a few souls? Like my depressing, depressed, sad, pitifool, pathetic 41-yo co-worker Jesper Chung?
10 [at an unGodly hour of 3:05am, May 19, 2018] ah pek koo:

Deal? Game on? Kol? (that’s Korean for “deal”).

Hey you should indulge in some romantic-comedy soap opera watching too Paula. A lot of life lessons can be gleaned from that addiction.

You can trust me on this your most serene Highness. You can trust me on the sunscreen (that’s a quote from a famous song but I for gets liao.)

Here’s a link to start you off on your esteemed journey:
10. [at 3:06am, 9/19/2018] ah pek koo is now besieging your Highness to rock n roll.

I  also pleaded with her: my dear, dear fellow Christian. onward with the good fight for a better new Malaysia!

Oh just a side bit of information I need to inform you, my gentle reader (I have a following of about one – but it’s growing): I have been diagnosed with OCD n Bipolar Disorder and whatnot. And when I haven’t enuff sleep I get hyper, talk loudly, and blast quirky stuff.

My loyal fan (of one) you know who you are has been begging me for yonks to write another piece.

So here you are JasMine Pussy, eat yer heart out.

Oh fuck I forgot. This piece is supposed to be how to write a fail-safe, million clicking response? Well, tough shit.

Do listen to this while you write tho:


My fave German band. If you can’t watch the video, the band is called Tangerine Dream and the track is Ricochet 1/2. It’s on YouTube as always.

Wokay then, I’ll be on my way now. Enjoy. And, kiddo,  don’t do drugs yo.

Also, fuck alot before your dick, ummm never mind that one hor another OP.












a strawberry gen(t)

Hey there kiddy winkies,

I have some thang to share. But before that, I must warn you that all people named here have had their real names changed slightly, only slightly though.

According to wikipedia, the strawberry generation (Chinese草莓pinyinCǎoméi zú;or 草莓世代cǎoméi shìdàiis a Chinese-language neologism for Taiwanese people born after 1981 who “bruise easily” like strawberries – meaning they cannot withstand social pressure or work hard like their parents’ generation; the term refers to people who are insubordinate, spoiledselfisharrogant, and sluggish in work.

Ah spoiledselfisharrogant, and sluggish in work, that sure rings a (loud) bell. I used to work with such an illustrious gentleman. Not Taiwanese but same, same chararacteristics nevertheless.

And then, hold on a sec dude, there have always been a SG (strawberry gent not gen) in wherever I work. Yeah, including the present factory where I am now chained to: mindlessly assembling words and sentences (then checking if they were glued together the right side up).

However, I am happy to report, this sweet SG jerk is not at all insubordinate. Oh no, he is a first class ass kisser with his, “hi, Swiss … hi Mister Swing and hi guys, how’s it going? Oh hello there Swearingdick.”

Here then, are his other attributes:

  1. Spoiled: You can’t be more loved than be given the least work to do by the chief cook. While every other kitchen slave gets his or her load of garbage to organise and cook, he gets all of one cucumber to chop.
  2. Selfish: He is not. Generous to a fault, he makes sure every slave gets a fair share of work. “Fair” is a relative word in his dick-tionary.
  3. Arrogant: If there is a monthly award for it, he’ll sweep the floor. Typical vomit pouring from his mouth: “this is so badly written!”. Well, that one time got him into a right pickle when the writer of that so-called “badly written” article overheard it!
  4. Sluggish: Oh yes he is indeed a fine crawler. But you wouldn’t know it the way he murders and pounds his keyboard with pretentious flourish. And, for maximum effect, he does not sit either. He prefers to stand at his desk to “work”. Nothing to do with his height. But if you want to know, he is not that tall. Okay, short for such a gentle man.
  5. Bruise easily: How can I put this? If you are a man and you act like a matured woman, can you be called a sensitive bitch? Not exactly politically correct I know but wtf who gives a shit right? I’m an old, old, ancient even, uncle oredi lah wei. A classic example: “So, Strawberry Boy, how old are you?” Answer: “I can’t tell you.” Like whaaaat? Are you scared I won’t date you ah? Ahem. So, with a flinch, I scream away like a girl. No more girly questions for Mister Jay Long from today.


Here is an excellent example at 4:20:


And … a standing desk or stand-up desk is a desk conceived for writing or reading while standing up or while sitting on a high stool. During the 18th and 19th centuries, standing desks were popular in the homes and offices of the rich. Standing desks have regained some popularity due to purported health benefits, though such benefits have not yet been clearly established.

Notable users of standing desks include Leonardo da Vinci, US founding father Benjamin FranklinThomas Jefferson, Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, author Virginia Woolf, songwriter Oscar Hammerstein II, author Ernest Hemingway, and author Nathaniel Hawthorne.

So dear reader, do you have a SG gent or lady getting your panties in a twist? Mine are in a miserable tangle since he appeared … although I don’t wear panties, boxers are less, er, tight and restricting. But you get it right?

Or maybe you happen to work with a bunch of SG kiddies? Well, just suck it up bro, sista, because it ain’t easy to get or keep a paying gig in 2017 (and the cumming 2018). Although I know one Ralna chick who has been headhunted a million times.


You can observe her humble boasts here:


So, now I have cleared all that rambling, nasty bitching diarrhoea from my chest, maybe I’ll just curl up and die now?

Oh wait, can I just finish watching episode 14 first?




Accountant loses RM250,000 to phone scammers


What? You call yourself an Accountant? Anyway … have a good laugh reading but don’t end up like him oh!!!

by Charles Ramendran

PETALING JAYA: A 52-year-old accountant lost RM250,000 to telephone scammers who convinced him that the security of his bank accounts had been compromised.
After unsuspectingly complying with the instructions of the scammers and seven bank transactions later, he never heard from them again.
The man was at his USJ 8 home on Oct 6 when he received a text message at about 1.30pm from an unknown number.
The message – similar to that sent by credit card companies when a transaction takes place claiming that a purchase was made at the KL International Airport 2 with a credit card under the victim’s name.
Taken aback by the message as he neither owned a credit card nor had he applied for one, the victim called a telephone number provided in the text message – supposedly that of Bank Negara.
Subang Jaya police chief ACP Mohammad Azlin Sadari said the victim then spoke to an “officer”, who went by the name “Tuan Gan”, and told him that he did not have any credit cards.
He said the “officer” told the victim that his bank account and PIN numbers had been hacked into and his savings were at the risk of being lost.
Mohammad Azlin said to safeguard his cash, the “officer” ordered the victim to transfer his funds to “secure” accounts for safety.
He said the “officer” provided the victim with numbers of four bank accounts.
The anxious accountant went on to transfer his funds to the accounts and later when he realised he had been conned, he lodged a police report.
Mohammad Azlin said the case is being investigated for cheating.