Thursday, October 14, 2010

Dear Boss (Ending)

Dear Boss,

Now let’s get back to our conversation, shall we? Before that, I really had to ask if you somehow managed to stumble upon my blog. That should explain why you wasted no time to send me out to Kampung Baru Changloon. Holy shit boss. Kampung Baru Changloon. Have I heard about Changloon before in my life? Sure, I did have a classmate named Chiang Loon a long time ago. He used to eat his boogers, but that’s beside the point. Apart from the fact that you sent me out to the middle of nowhere (again), I'm still fairly impressed by how the hell you could secure a project somewhere in between no mans land and hills with eyes. It's as abandoned as the spot in between your anus and testicles. Why in the world would anyone build anything there!?

Did you know I had plain fried noodles three times a day for almost the entire week? I swear my shit were starting to come out in strands by the end of it. But you were very successful in stopping me from blogging. Because nevermind computers, there wasn’t even sufficient electricity from the generator to let us keep our lights on long enough. The Bangladeshi perverts could’ve been masturbating to my face every night and I wouldn’t even know. Come to think of it, maybe that's why my eye was kinda stuck together that one morning.

But nevermind that. Let’s get back to topic. Now where was I, boss? Oh right.

Yes, boss. I, FUCKED in your office room. And by that I did not mean the street expression of fuck as in “fuck you bitch!” or “man, that shit is really fucked” or “why do you have to go and fuck it up”. Whereas, boss, I meant to say that I had sex in your room. With a girl. No, not with my hands as you think I often do (although I will not deny that). Rather it was with a cute girl that you fantasize about whenever you pleasure your missus. Speaking of which, I believe, is rare.

It wasn’t just your regular wham-bam-thankyou-m’am, boss. It was loads and loads of sex. Like the smell of jasmine on the first day of spring. Or the deep stench of a passing garbage truck. Overwhelming. In fact, if you stare hard at your desk, it almost feels like its about to blurt out “Holy shit there was a lot of sex going on here last night!” Such is the aura of the great after-sex. And all those loads and loads of sex compressed into a single night. And then further compressed into a single hour.

Ahh, how I recall the short passionate moment on your mahogany carved desk,

a little banging against your double-pane fully tinted glass,

a little rub-a-dub on that contemporary glass coffee table,

and a whole lot of no-no-oh-shit-yes on your prime Italian sofa.

Dear boss, I could not however, for the life of me, find the remote for the air-conditioning in your room. I paid for that with a hell load of sweating. The genius of where you hid it confounded me, although I can never understand how you must’ve predicted this moment and wanted to save on the air-conditioning electricity bill. You’re always efficiently economical like that. Like how you always returned all the scented napkins to the restaurants on our company dinners and then demand them for a discount.

Or how the rest of the office staff uses furniture that comes embedded with termites as our office pets, or tables and desks that look suspiciously like the ones they throw out from the primary school next door. Truth be told, you’re a genius in cost-saving. They should call you, Costco, Walmart, Econsave, or something.

Remember the one single time you promoted me over the 4 years I worked for you, you said to me “You know what, I think you’re doing a great job. You deserve a promotion and I’m going to give you one today”. It was the happiest day of my life.

It was one small step for a job title (executive to managerial), and one giant leap for salary increment. Remember boss? Eighty eight fucking ringgit.

In an instant I officially became the lowest paid manager in Malaysia. I wanted to call up my mom and scream to her “MOM I FINALLY MADE IT!!” but my phone had no more credits. Oh I’m sorry boss, I meant the beautiful hi-tech COMPANY phone that YOU proudly issued to me.

Now really, at least an increment was better than none. And I supposed the number eighty eight is your own special way of expressing your kind of humor. Way to go boss. If you had added 88 cents to make it RM88.88, I wouldve thought you're the funniest man on Earth.

But among all your greatness, your best display of cost-saving will definitely be the time when you promised me an office room in the main office. Boy, did I get one. Tune Hotel and Tony Fernandez himself would’ve been proud of you. I was only surprised that the activation button on the air-cond did not come with an ‘insert-coin’ slot.

You know boss, I’m always curious why my office room is laid with ceramic tiles, have huge pipes running overhead, comes with a ventilation fan on the grill and smells somewhat funky. Yes, no price for guessing what the room actually was. But hey, you said it wasn’t a toilet, boss. So I believe you. Like one douchebag used to say “It may look like it, sound like it, but is not it”.

But seriously boss, the thing that gave it away was probably the little sink pipe outlet on the north wall. I mean boss, what else could that be? Telegram vacuum tube? I don’t know boss. Perhaps it was just my wild imagination.

Just like whenever someone flushes on the toilet upstairs, (right above me, by the way), I sometimes hear these curious sounds of solid matter dropping into water. I’m not sure how to describe it, or if I even want to. What’s the word? Plonking? Like, plonk!...shhhh…. plonk! ‘stuffs’ swimming happily through the huge pipes above me. It does wonders for my lunchtime appetite.

Well that’s that in cost-saving. On the other end of the rainbow, I must say your investment talent is just as sharp. Your prime Italian sofa, for example, was indeed the best investment in your room. The ample bounce on the springs and the plush leather made me feel like I was getting BMW Auto-Bavaria servicing on my gigantic penis while being wrapped in soft and warm embrace of a milky cocoon with a whiff of Persian leather oil. That sentence doesn’t even make sense. That’s how good it is.

Your mahogany carved desk was a point worth noting as well. All the humping and pushing and never did it let out a squeak. But of course, my favorite will have to be your gigantic fish tank, boss. Your fishes now share a deep untold bond with me, after bearing witness to our holy union that night.

Boss, did you really spent RM500 on each of those little Nemos? I could not tell if their eyes always bulged like that or if they were just impressed with my penis. See, apart from Mc Donald’s fillet o’ fish, I have completely no knowledge on our aquatic friends. Now termites, that’s a different story.

Dear boss,

To express my deepest love and gratitude to you, I left a gift forever embedded into the sanctity of your throne room. When the moment of sexual enlightenment ‘came’ (pun intended), I gave it my all with a big thrust and some puckering up of the asshole and some sucking in of the butt-cheeks. Boy, if that was not an Olympic gold medal shot, I don’t know what is. Heck, my knees almost buckled.

Boss, the apple-shaped sweat stain on the sofa may have evaporated by morning, palm marks on the tinted glass windows may have dried up, but a little part of me will forever remain close to you. Trailing down the corner of one glass pane, like a river making way to the sea, was the one token of my memory to you. My own little army of barley soldiers, boss, that’s how much I love you. Sure, most of it must be dried up by now and soaked into the edge of the carpet, but boss, a pinch of love remains and you can always feel its aura. Love is everlasting afterall..

Yes boss. If you stare at it close enough, its there boss. Little spots of barley paradise staring back at you longingly. Like a virgin lover on the window pane of a mid September night.

So here is where I sign off boss, and I probably will not be writing you anymore for a long while. Well, that's what I hope. At least not until I collect enough wisdom from you again. If you really did stumble upon my blog, please, do not pop a vein. It is supposed to be therapeutic according to my hot therapist. Oh wait, I cannot afford a therapist. And please please do not send me to some site in between the testicles and anus again. Taking a shit in the jungle and fearing for snakes while your dick is hanging out is not very pleasant.

So remember boss, if you ever feel lonely, millions of dried up mini-mes are always there to accompany you. Just imagine them as persistent little tadpole buggers, roaming the strands of your carpet. Waiting for that one day when they can all do the butterfly strokes to the warm, wet and stinky gloryhole again. Crushed dreams and delusional ambitions, served just like life.

Take care now boss, and see you soon.

Yours truly,

The only monkey that stayed when you paid peanuts.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Dear Boss

Dear Boss,

How are you? I hope you had alot of fun on your trip to Manila last week. I'm sure there were alot of businesses that you still had to attend to there as you claimed. We all understand how most businesses are really conducted in golf courses, papaya karaokes and brothels. But before we start, I feel that there's a need to address to a disturbing issue of late.

You see, lately, I noticed that you had increased the consistency of the strange habit of scratching your crotch in public to an alarming rate. I would like to point out that stuffing your hand into your pocket to pretend like you are fishing for your keys does not really work anymore. Especially when you claw at the itch so ferociously that I began wondering if you'd tear your skin. Lets just hope for your wife's sake that the itch was not imported from Philippines.

Boss, while you were gone, we were all fine and dandy here in the office. I'm sure we dont need the vacation like you do because you're the only one who works hard in the company. 10 days annual leaves works just fine with me. In fact, I think it's really efficient, especially when public holidays fall on Saturdays and it does not get forwarded. Thus putting a grand total of 6 public holidays and 10 leave holidays in 365 days. Heck, I was just thinking, how the hell am I going to spend 16 days doing nothing? This is why you are a genius boss. Fuck the labor laws right? what do they know. You're so James Dean boss, and that is so cool.

Boss, I remember some time ago when Hari Raya was a week long holiday. Now that we only get one single day off, boy, do I realize how redundant and time-wasting those holidays were. I'm sure you'd agree. You said to me the other day "Hari Raya break so many days for what? The Malays are already so fucking lazy". Sure, lesser informed people will scream racism at this statement, but little do they know you also said the Chinese were all thieving and conniving assholes so they deserve no CNY break. And then some months later, you said the Indians were good-for-nothing dumb gangsters, and these gangsters deserve no Deepavali break.

Well you should remember that one. Because the Indian lorry driver right behind us heard what you said and I swear I heard a vein popped in his neck. I'm still relieved today that I never heard your neck being popped after that. Geez, what racist? I know you're no racist boss. You hate everyone just as well. So thank you, because we all know it has nothing to do with hating holidays but you're just trying to form discipline by maintaining consistency.

So, you asked me what this is all about boss? You see, my therapist said that it will truly do me good if I can confront my feelings about you and express it. Perhaps that way we can say our peace and move on with our lives. She said by doing so, both of us can make waking up in the morning a little easier.

My therapist is actually pretty hot, boss. My mom used to warn me never to listen to pretty girls, but this therapist sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Plus when I'm lying on her leather couch, I sometimes catch a good glimpse of her lace panties. I truly love surprises like that. So, about her idea of confrontation with you, let's just see how it goes, shall we boss?

Well, the truth is boss, I dont even have a therapist. I guess if I had one that's what she'll say. And I'd probably find a pretty one. And the truth is boss, I cannot even afford one. Much less the nice new sports car that you left the brochure of in my office. I had a tough time wondering why you left the brochure there. For the weirdest moment, I actually allowed my completely witless mind to imagine maybe you meant to get the car for me as a company car.

Silly me. You were absolutely right. When I asked you if you were getting me the car and you laughed so loud that I started worrying if you'd pop an artery. Then you said I must've knocked my head silly in the construction site, for saying such a dumb thing. You were right. I must've knocked my head at the site. But hey, thanks for the... brochure? I guess shoving it unto my face and reminding me how little money you're paying me is a great motivation? I'm sure that's your humble intention. And I'm sure you have your reasons. They say God works in mysterious ways. You're like God, boss.

Boss, I must admit that at first I felt offended and insulted when my staff revealed to me that you had been badmouthing me behind my back. And to MY staff, of all people. I mean, what kind of douchebag would do something like that? But later I realized, that you're too professional and too much of a man to be saying such negative things directly to me, and it would be too unbecoming of your big boss status. Direct confrontation is not always the best scenario. So I applaud you for your innovative solution. Spread it instead to the junior staffs.

I totally took heed of your modern business style, which is why I passed the box of Viagra that you asked me to buy for you to my executive. She then passed it to the admin clerk who later passed it on to your personal assistant who left it on your desk. It's too bad you never realized how professional the entire purchase was handled.

Boss, I must also thank you for the display of trust you placed on my talent. Back during the Tampin project when your son fucked it up so badly, you took him out so quickly and dragged me in, out of nowhere. I was never involved in the project hence I had no clue what was going on, but you insisted that I "BE A MAN!", and stick out my neck and reputation on the line. If you had added "DOO THE RIGHT TING!", you wouldve sounded like Russell Peters and I might have found that funny.

But boss, when shit started to surface and everyone (including you) crucified me to be the scapegoat, it wasnt funny at all. Did you know that the client screamed at me so passionately that his saliva practically mosturized my face? After that, my skin did have the healthy glow that Ms. DBLchin always talks about in her blog.

Boss, I now realize that you were genuinely confident that despite my complete lack of experience and non-existent involvement in that project, you felt that I could save the project and along with your son. I'm so sorry and always regretted that I failed you that time. That is why I never blamed the crucifix and did not say a thing when you stated that incident as the reason for me not having any bonus that year.

Boss, we have now come to the part which my pretty therapist calls "Constructive Confessions". It's a rip-off from hot THB's 今日的忏悔 . It's okay though, because my therapist is just as hot.

But the thing is, boss, I dont really have a therapist. It's because I can't really afford one. And I guess I've already told you that. Well, I'm just... hinting... nevermind.

Boss, you remember that cute sweet secretary from the office two blocks away that you always talk about? The one the entire office knew you probably fantasize about whenever you 'choke-your-monkey'? Yes, the one who came to invite you to their company's annual dinner but you chose to ridicule her job, her company and even her car instead. I did not understand, but perhaps you were really going for the whole bad-boy Johny Depp image thing by behaving like such a prick. You always did preach about 'nan ren bu huai, nu ren bu ai' afterall. But perhaps it wasn't the sexiest image for a fat balding 65 year old ugly chinaman.

Later on you kept demanding me to look her up, to hire her to work for you. Sure, I thought, I was just going to march right into her office, whip out my oversized penis, smack her on the face with it and command her to work for you.

I did tell you later that I could not get a hold of her, and you called me a complete idiot to have wasted what would've been a great staff. It is so completely my fault, boss, I couldn't agree more.

But you see, boss, I lied.

I did run into her after that, and I did get to know her better. We hit off pretty well actually, and I guess its because we did share something in common; our great love for you.

But that's not all, boss.

Well, you see, boss... around this time last year...

we fucked.

In your office room.

to be continued.

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Blogger That Always Quits

Dear Diary,

An entire month I disappeared from my blog. Some people were probably really happy as the blog rouses nothing but negative sentiments from their minds with a virgin's width. Some probably relieved that they no longer have to fear their spouses snipping their organs off as they sleep at night. Of course regardless of how much 'fuck-the-world' limpek try to portray, limpek still did hope that one or two readers did miss reading the blog. It seems kinda desperate, but its the truth. Kanneh... what to do... in the end, limpek also do crave for some acceptance afterall.

I guess I started to doubt what it is I'm doing here actually. What message it is that I'm trying to convey. Limpek's friends all think this is absolutely retarded, posting nonsense online for anonymous strangers to laugh at, or get shitpissed at. It's obvious limpek dont make a single cent for the blog. And it's not effortless too. Heck it takes ALOT of time for each entry, so limpek is truly impressed with those bloggers with full time jobs. Limpek also dont get to meet hot gers or cool friends because it has to remain anonymous.

Limpek thought to at least try make someone smile for a minute in their day, but it's really hard when smiling is the last thing you feel like doing yourself. If only its as easy as painting a big red smiley lips on my face for you. If it is, I'd gladly do it for you.

So what is it that I'm doing here? Why am I blogging in the first place? You ask limpek, limpek also chui tat lan. All I know is, limpek didnt really wanna just abandon this. It has afterall, help limpek connect to a few souls in this big ball of a mess... And perhaps, make life less lonely?

Sean asked me today "why you haven't been blogging? Just continue la wat the fuck. Make new friends."

Sean usually say things that doesnt make sense, but limpek felt that this time he was right. One great thing that limpek had truly enjoyed since starting the blog a short 6 months ago was getting to know the readers and other bloggers. As little as I truly know them, or they me, limpek felt they were all these colorful characters that hardly exist in my real life, or in my real friends. That's so fine by me. Real or not, life is afterall how much you believe your make-believe. Isn't it?

Well, before I stop making sense and you start thinking that I'm blogging while high, I shall stop here.

so... hello friends. I'm Goldfish Uncle, a friend. And I'm back. Like your genital wart that never goes away.

Entries will be more casual from now on and less frequent. I'll learn to have fun doing this, rather than getting tired after blogging. =)

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Baja Hitam

Continuation from 'Superman' of last post.

This reminds limpek of a story...

A nong nong time ago, Grandpa had a Vespa that he used to round the plantation estate with. It was one of those old things that looked like it came straight from World War II. Most of the time, Vespa was dumped in the tooldshed, keeping itself from everybody's way.

But to a 16 year old punk like me (yes, limpek was once 16 too...), it was the One Piece, the ultimate treasure. Whenever I lay eyes on it, it felt like I could be like this...

That's right.

As cool as Rossi.

So without my dad's knowledge, but with Grandpa's permission (Grandpa was always nice to us), I secretly took Vespa to ride to school whenever I could.

School back then in these small kampungs are always so damn far away, so mom was quite happy that she doesn't have to drive me there anymore. Besides, small kampung roads are empty most of the time so it's safe as well.

Boy, did I felt like Rossi in those times...

All the cool boys rode bikes to school back then in the kampung, and limpek also felt so cool that my nipples could cut glass.

Everything to make it as a cool cat, limpek had it all going.

  1. Motorbike. Check.
  2. Square-top hair. Check.
  3. Fake Clip-On Gold Earings. Check.
  4. Unbutton School Shirt. Check.
  5. Plastic Pasar Malam Sunglasses. Check.
  6. Super Baggy Ugly Green Schoolpants Check.
  7. Blowing Smoke Rings with Ciggies. Check.

Limpek felt like all the girls in the kampung will drench their panties if I ever pass by them in my Vespa.

But there was this one girl, that limpek had a major crush on. Pei Ting was her name...

She was the same age, from the neighboring girl school. Limpek always wanted to but never found the balls to talk to her. But limpek knew she always waited at the same bus-stop sharp at 6.45pm every evening.

So finally one day, limpek decided to try and impress her with the Vespa. Limpek imagine myself as Rossi (although nobody had even heard of Rossi then), and Pei Ting was the sexy flag-girl.

'Yes, it's gonna be perfectly cool like that!' that was all limpek could think of.

So limpek flew the Vespa in really close, and for the corner just ahead of the bus-stop limpek had a grand idea.

The great Racer Lean.

For a second there, limpek felt like the Great Spirit of Rossi possessed limpek's body.

limpek felt, like this...

But of course, like what musicians always sing about, "Life isn't always how you want it to be"

The musicians however, failed to mention how different it would be.

But like Yus from the tale before this, pride only comes AFTER a man's fall.

Hey, especially if your one favorite girl is looking, right? You would've done the same.

As I collect the poor Vespa up to stumble away, trying my best to walk straight, a silver lining did appear in the cloud.

Am I okay?





Note to self:
  • She talked to me!
  • Actually limpek could not turn around because the fattened blueblack face streaming with tears and dirt is totally uncool... Un-Rossi.... beh sai...beh sai...
  • The hardest butt caning I ever received from Dad that night.
  • When I saw the way Grandpa looked at the broken Vespa that night, I made a vow never to break his heart like that ever again.

Thursday, August 19, 2010


So limpek just returned from being stationed at Kuala Krai
to check on some site. Limpek will buy you a beer if you had actually been to Kuala Krai. It's like time-travelling to the past for a week. Thank god they have good Todi there.

Boss sent limpek there just because he want limpek to check on his stupid brat son. His son, typical spoiled brat of rich daddy, usually has one way or another to fuck up our projects. So limpek have to wipe their family's ass. Stupid puahbais.

But this project was actually going alright. The only problem is this HUGE FAT Safety Officer called Ganesh. He is SO HUGE that he couldnt really fit in the site temporary toilet, so he takes his crap in the bushes at the jungle. HAHAHA. Everytime he steps on the steel scaffolding, limpek had to hold my breath and pray it doesnt break.

This Ganesh likes to give us shit about safety. Climb 1 floor also must wear full safety equipment. Alot of work cannot be done with scaffolding, must use skylift. Cigarrette cannot simply smoke. Alot of shit lah basically. Its hampering with work and delaying handover, whatmore with the constant rain nowadays.

So limpek told Spoiled Brat two weeks ago to bribe Ganesh. We gave Spoiled Brat RM1500. But Spoiled Brat only gave him RM800. (That is like our government projects, past every level got tax wan kanineh!). After that Ganesh stopped bothering our workers so much. But you can feel he still beh syok on the small small safety issues wan. He will keep looking and looking like beh tahan, waiting to explode and scream at the workers. Limpek think Ganesh got obsessive compulsive disorder. Siao wan.

So on second day there, limpek was doing site-walk with Spoiled Brat. As usual, everything seems to be going well. At one end, Spoiled Brat looked up and limpek follow to see what he was looking at.

Two Indon workers were on the steel scaffolding, about two floors above ground. They were supposed to be lining cables. Two floors really isnt that high and for a quick job usually safety harness is neglected. Then these two monkeys started messing around...

It was actually quite a hard jab

The guy (Yus) was obviously pissed.

The other guy was as quick as Ip Man.

Who would've thought...

A smooth fall, it was not...

Extension planks broke his fall. Twice...
And finally...

Limpek look over and Spoiled Brat was looking like this...

Although limpek wasnt sure if he was more freaked out about Yus's injury...

OR this guy who's ALWAYS nearby

But Yus knew about Ganesh (heck, the entire site does). And a hero always think about the team first.

Right away he bounced back up. You'd think he only fell from a bicycle. Except his leg was kinda pointing at a very, very wrong angle.

And then he wasn't exactly convincing...

Ganesh might not have seen how far up Yus came falling from. He just stared really hard, as though he's about to eat someone. The other guy quickly came down to help carry Yus to the medical room, before Ganesh explodes.

Two floors isnt all that high... but its not all that low to fall from as well. Yus fell like a meatsack and yet, he's still standing! What on earth is this guy made of?!

Pride. Thats the answer.



Deng deng deng!

This reminds limpek of a story...

That limpek will only post in two days hohohoho!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

How Much Is Too Much Part II

Limpek opened my eyes, and limpek was here...

There's still a certain realization that this all could not possibly be real.

So limpek scrambled to search back reality. Eyes closed, here I was...

And everything was throbbing, that it started to feel like this..

Edward wouldnt have approved...

"Calm the fuuuuccccckkk downn!!!" Limpek remember telling myself. Whether it was said out loud, there's no way to know.

Closed eyes and the stage changed...

The music started becoming really loud, and colours blinding. There's no way that this isnt illusion.

Closed eyes, and opened, and it was a whole new world again.

At this point, limpek was starting to doubt whether limpek was sane in the first place. Whether there was real sanity at all. Limpek really believed that the situation is completely fucked up beyond any reason. There's no way to get out of this loop. This is it.

Closed eyes, space travelled again.

It was really hard to describe... of course these weren't the exact real images of the spaces limpek hopped to. But it was real close in terms of mood and atmosphere. The feeling of helplessness is incredible, that there was no way left for limpek to control the situation. The paranoia became devastating. You start doubting whether the world had always been one short consciousness after another, or if you'll finally sober up at one point.

Your body feels foreign to you. You send commands of actions to your body, some are executed and some are not. But you feel nothing even if the movements were executed. Limpek remember forcing my hands to massage my temples, and ended up feeling two foreign sticks prodding at limpek's head. Limpek is still unsure if those were my fingers.

Music changes from muffled, as though you're in an eclosed glass cube, to ear-shattering loud. And the world is weightless, without gravity. You spin non-stop on all directions.

Travelling between worlds, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

To be honest, limpek was scared shitless. Siao liao... boh hang kiu liao... thats all limpek can think of.

After several lightyears, limpek opened my eyes again...

old school laser disco lights!

Waitaminute... she looks quite familiar wor. But where am I? Kaninah why so noisy wan!? Puahbai!

Eh, this place... hamsap KTV wor.... Eh?? How come?

Oh wait... just now....

As soon as the memory hits, it surges and floods your head like an overwhelming orgasm after 2 dry weeks. You can feel as though your eyes going to pop out because the memories are smashing against it.

Limpek ran straight to the toilet, stumbling like Rosmah trying to do ballet. As soon as limpek spot the bowl, shit starts spraying out from the mouth like dragonball hei-gong. Limpek think the last time limpek puked this hard was during Tobby's daughter's birthday when we down cheap champagne as though they were beer. It was by the beach so the waves sent our half-digested chickens back to our feet. The poor little girl looked as though her dad had been possessed by devil. Hahaha good ol times. Sibeh jialat.

In reality, barely three hours had passed since limpek arrived at this sleazy KTV. Kanineh what the flying fuck happened?

Rewind 3 hours ago, limpek walked in and met Dr Druggie Ronald for the first time. Spread on the table was his 'medicine' poison collection. Limpek was already worried that time. I mean limpek had tried smoking pot several times and some e-pills during school days or whenever limpek go back hometown Penang to look for old mates... Granted Penang really does have the best grass thanks to its distance from Thailand. And limpek's childhood Bayan Lepas member, Kamlan Wong, source the best grass. B
ut these items by Dr. Ronald look like stuff limpek see on newspapers. With the 'DEATH PENALTY' logo next to it.

First came in the girls, and surprisingly they were really quite pretty! Vietnamese and Indonesians, all just as crazy. Limpek picked an Indonesian girl cause she was really cute with short modern bob hair that reminded limpek of my first girlfriend. And her name, Alina, was even almost the same!

But of course when she opened her mouth and all the obscenities started pouring out then she quickly sounded like the wantanmee auntie liao. And she kept holding limpek's Gojira as though its the balancing handle in the LRT. Puahbai... limpek's first love was as gentle and modest as it could get okayy!

"Bangggg, kamu ada suka main sok keh?" Alina asked limpek.

"Sok keh?? Apa tu?? Kongket ka?? Abang sukaaaa main"

"Aiyo jahaatttt... bukan kongket! Sok keh! Itu, 'keh'!"
She said, pointing at Dr. Ronald's 'medicine' cabinet. Particularly at the white sachets.

"OHHH!!! ITU 'K' KAH?? You mau kah?? Wahh u manyak jahattt oh!"

The crazy GROs instantly swarmed around the K powder like flies to cow dung. The way they line the powder and suck them up like vacuum cleaner reminded limpek of Tony from Scarface. "Ohh... so the drugs are for these crazy girls." That was what came across my mind. Limpek was obviously still naive.

The first hour pretty much went by okay. Everytime limpek tried to sing a song, the girls, high like monkeys pumped with testosterone, changed it to some china disco music. Those entertainingly ridiculous music that goes YAO-AH-YAO-AH-YAO-AH or whatever they're chanting. Some girls were so fucked up with the K that they just stood there shaking their heads the whole time. Again, its like the gahmen anti-smoking campaign, they're shaking their heads "tak nak tak nak tak nak tak nak". Even in between songs when there's no music. Alina went out and came back in without her bra. I think she really liked limpek. Hahaha.

Then Tan started passing around a glass of drink to the guys. The drink obviously looked like its spiked, smells like its spiked and tasted like its spiked. Yet Tan dare to say "Mou laaaa, mou si kehhh!!! Trust me brother! Siu-siu k fhan zehhh". Sounds familiar like the fucking lawyer Lingam... sounds like me, looks like me, talks like me... but DEY! NOT ME!!!

So limpek took a sip. It tasted like flattened Coke (no gas) with a little bit of bitter aftertaste (like replacement sugar). In about 15 minutes, the buzz started to kick in already. Limpek began to feel weightless and really drunk. Then the head started to follow the beat to do the anti-smoking campaign headshake as well.

It was still okay, limpek thought. Still in control, no reason to freak out. Then in about 10-15 more minutes the effect started to wear off. So it wasnt all that horrible afterall.

Then Tan came back with another glass. "This one we mix ourselves wan, special stuff. You try and see, more or less the same wan. But this one happier a little bit. Have to finish the glass. Trust me!"

Limpek thought aiya the last one also mah-mah-tey only, no ploblem la! So taruk the entire glass.

"Tan, what is this? This one taste horrible la! Like got sour taste wan!"

"This one got some crushed happy-5 plus ecstasy. Then add the liquid they call 'beh io', is used to aneh-aneh.... the horse wan."


"Yes yes! the one make the horse calm down to fuck wan"

"beh io.... used to anesthesize horse wan.... HORSE!! HORSE!?!?"

"yes correct! hor liao lehhh"


"Aiya dont worry brother, trust me. Horse wan is very weak, we got tiger and even elephant wan!"

Limpek felt like my testicles was stuck in my mouth, words cannot come out.

Limpek never even knew when it hit. There was definitely a gap of memory loss in between finishing the conversation and sobering up holding my dick in the toilet with no pee coming out. And then closing my eyes and waking up with Alina staring at me and wiping my face with hot towel back in the room. My zipper wasnt even pulled up yet. It hit like a truck running into you... will never see it coming.

Limpek ended up throwing up 4 times that night. The very last time, limpek thought my intestines will be hanging out from my mouth already. After limpek puked like mad and drank a whole gallon of water, the world stopped spinning so much. Limpek tipped Alina quickly and got the fuck out of that craphole. The others, with their brains all fried up, were just laying around the sofa with the equally fucked girls. Some were just standing there nodding their heads obsessively to the super loud ahbeng music in the pitch black room. With only the disco laser lights flashing around.

What in the world have I gotten myself into... That was all limpek could think.

Puahbai... horse medicine.

Limpek went home and totally blacked out. It was amazing limpek could still auto-pilot drive back. By the time limpek awoke again, was already 10am fucking late. The boss called.


"Wah boss... sorry... really cannot la... last nite..."

"YOU DONT GIVE COCK EXCUSE AH! I called Tan just now, he say nothing much went on last nite! He said everyone was sober and you even left earlier than them!"

"No leh boss, let me explain, they-"


(Boss... why not you ask me chop off my balls and go die?)

The end of the Que-pac adventure.

Btw, sorry for the delay in update. I know alot of people also wanna tiao limpek for always updating cipet slow nowadays, like gahmen worker. But Limpek and family was back in Bayan Lepas last whole week until yesterday to attend a funeral of a far relative. Home is still as nice as it used to be, and limpek is considering about relocating back to Bayan, back to roots! Since most of family members also moved back from KL already. And also limpek can transfer to the IJM developments along the coast. Dont know la, see how first.

One last thing, Goldfish Uncle NEVER condone drug usage. Really, its just quite retarded.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Exactly How Much Is Too Much?

At what point does it stop being just PR servicing and become instead, mere whoring out of oneself?

Whoaa kanineh limpek trying to sound very chim chim liddat. Nevertheless, limpek had the chance to question that last week during an outing with some very important clients.

"You need to bring these clients out and make sure they have lots of fun. WE need them on OUR side. I'll cover the fund and you just take care of entertaining them"

That was boss's exact instructions. Notice how great of a salesman he is? picking words that amsu-amsu limpek as if suddenly his project problems are now mine as well. All the 'We' and 'Ours' instead of 'I' and 'My'. Last time when limpek's own project got problem, he left limpek to eat grass myself. Knnccb this kind of bitchman.

But then again, it sounded like a good deal doesnt it? Afterall, limpek knew these hamsap clients are papaya farm addicts and what can be better than letting boss pay for everything?

This was in regards to a project limpek is involved in at K.L. It's the construction of a really exclusive condominium tower which ironically has been mostly bought up or rented by foreigners; expats and investors. It is quite impossible to expect the locals to afford these multi million ringgit little boxes in the sky. Such is the failure of Malaysia that the prosperity we always try to portray pales in comparison to the majority of us monkeys earning peanuts.

But hey, what do the fattened up pigs in Parliament or GLC developers care as long as their bellies get bigger and bigger. It is just another pre-Mandela South Africa waiting to happen. They want us to think it is our own fault, that we're probably not working hard enough or talented enough. But is it really? Are we really that worthless?

Limpek's company was lucky enough to pao a little portion of the project to be done... BUT, even luckier to go screw it up. Thanks to our ever reliable angmoh manufacturers. It's not really screwing up to the point of no return, rather its just "finished work not up to standard" (the Consultant's exact words).

To put it simply, limpek's company's finished work is really lanjiao standard. Dont know whether to laugh or cry. But for what its worth, it wasn't limpek's project but my boss's.

Basically its like this: Our job done needs to be approved by project manager and client's architect. So this job was quite fucked up but they can still close one eye and tiam tiam only. But these buggers are from a huge public listed construction company and a major developer, so they dont want to just let it go. They can sue us until our lampahci shrink, and then in turn we will have to sue our manufacturer instead. Then it will go one big round like an orgy train and end up with everyone fucked in the backside by someone.

So boss ask limpek to entertain those buggers, then later together-gether we can try to do some 'lets-all-pretend-to-rectify' wayang, so the client wont be peeing hot fire anymore. Then slowly, the client will start to accept it as it is and then everything will be fine and dandy.

One thing limpek really respect this cipet chinaman boss is he always know how to get out of trouble. No matter how fucked up the situation is, he'll figure out a sneaky solution. He is like old fat chinaman version of Michael Scofield, thinking and thinking of how to break out from prison until nose also can bleed. Well, at least riding along in his ship, he didnt require limpek to hold his pocket.

That bunch of clowns clients limpek also met many times before already at the site. Project manager, Loo, site manager, Tan and client's architect, Ang. All also 40+ already. All married with few kids as well.

That puahbai Ang is the type of site architect that cannot control his voice. He is like a broken radio, turn the volume abit and it will suddenly roar until your eardrums explode. His volume explodes for no reason wan. And also, he likes to talk loud loud 2 inches from your face. Whenever he want to talk to limpek, limpek feel like he is trying to french kiss me. Can even feel the gusts of wind from his breath hitting limpek's face, sometimes even got fish porridge smell. Then next day the face sure grow few pimples because of his high protein saliva.

The project manager, Loo, even worse. When he talk to you must sit close close wan. Then sure put his hand on your thigh. Kaninahh! Damn geli! Limpek always use this dirty tactic on xiaolongnus to pok-mong. Slowly rub their thighs make them horny abit become more wet. Mana tau this cipet Loo also do that to limpek! Limpek really become more wet. Wet with sweat!

They always talk as though like really can cheong, but limpek thought "aiya kanineh, bunch of 40+ family cinapeks... how kaulat can they be". Then Tan the site supervisor called limpek to pick them up at 4pm, limpek start to suspect something wrong liao. Wahpiang why so early wan? Tan explained that they got wives waiting at home. If party until midnite, go home will kena taruk by the wives. Then their wives will throw plates and break things. Limpek hear liao also sien, confirm this bunch of old men cannot cheong wan.

Ang lead the way and the longer we drove, the more uneasy limpek felt. Why so damn far wan? Isnt that the Cheras toll already? Kanineh then see see, batu sembilan liao. What the flying fuck is batu sembilan? Then go into some kampung area, surrounded by fucking jungle. "Tan! What the fuck?! Tekan the sakai's neh neh issit??" limpek asked Tan. "Relax brother, good things must remain hidden wan". Kaninah. Limpek feel like 16 year old schoolgirl kena bluff by hamsap boyfriend to take off bra.

Still havent reach! We had to go deeper inside somemore. Finally see got one single row of shophouse. Those old school type of shophouse with small kedai runcit, kapcai service shop and mamak shop wan. Upstairs people hang underwear with holes from one end till another end. Naked kids running around with stick guns and crazy old man talking to himself in the corner. Topping it off are the stray dogs patrolling around the area and staring cock at you. One of them even missing a leg. Limpek keep getting the sensation that the stray dog is yelling at me "KUA HAMI!? KUA LAN JIAO AR KUA!!"

For a while limpek thought maybe slip through a time portal and end up in Cambodia already. Next thing you know the underage farm girls might be walking up to you and say "me love you nong time?" "sucky sucky?" But lucky this is still Malaysia. And limpek is still no pedophile.

In the middle of the row of shophouses, limpek spotted it. Big tasteless flashing neon lights "Kelab Que-PAC" like straight out of Sungei Wang. If Tokyo neon atmosphere is pop-culture, limpek found its bastard sister.

The door downstairs is locked with grills and 2 Indian thugs with walkie-talkies serve as the 1st level bouncers. These are the kinda thugs you dont want to cross eyes with because they look like they want to slice open your belly and pull out your intestines slowly and make you eat it. Their eyes are so red that limpek thought maybe they're auditioning for Twilight.

oh sorry! limpek didnt realize that was Semi-Vellu and by all means did not intend to label him as an Indian Thug. My bad my bad.

Tan spoke to them abit, tip them abit, and they mumbled something into the walkie talkie. A woman came down that is unmistakably the 'Mami'. Mamis are not very difficult to distinguish as they always have this sneaky aura with certain darkness in their eyes. The kind of feeling our 'First Lady' also do carry.

We went up to the first floor where it became even more shady. 6-7 ahbengs with walkie-talkies hung out in a big empty floor with a plastic table and chairs strewn about. Of course to be expected there was a big altar with a BIG Guan Gong idol on it. We had to go another floor up. Apparently this was just stage 2 security.

Third floor was where all the karaoke rooms were. Slap a couple of cockroach eaten sofas, a TV and some crackling speakers, there you have it. Kampung style papaya farm. Inside our room, a friend of Ang was waiting for us. Ronald was his name.

Apparently Ronald is their resident pharmacist because as soon as limpek walked in, Dr Ronald already got his whole cabinet of 'medicine' laid out on the table.

3/4 of it limpek have no idea what the flying fuck it was. But limpek saw what were unmistakably K-powder in sachets... weed joints.... ecstacy pills... and small bottles of what looked like liquid meth.

Limpek can only think, "Kanineh liao this time."

to be continued...

next post coming very soon

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Look Ma, It's A Bung Hole!

Last week everywhere people talking about the singkapo flood. Limpek no need see newspaper, read several blogs also can see many pictures already. Limpek also know from overseas usually flood not covered by insurance, correct boh? Because its quite uncommon natural disaster.

Insurance as usual, always con people this way. You pay and pay and then when shit happens the blardy con-ladies will say "oh mister, soli ha this kind of incident no cover wan. Its written here on page 24356 paragraph 578 and 1/2. Here's a complimentary coffee mug though, we're very sorry to hear about the dead garupa fishes in your car." Suddenly you regret trying to peek down her two unbuttoned blouse rather than paying attention to the super fine prints in the contract.

Thats why insurance is the biggest 'con'-cept in todays industries to bullshit the modern generation.
Do you notice they always have their faces (mugshot) on their namecards? Limpek's boss say wan "only those biggest conmen/conwomen will have their faces on the business cards." Because they need to sell themselves rather than the actual product/service. Because they also know their product/service is bullshit wan.

So after flood everybody bank account also kena wash away. It is such a pity. Alot of fancy cars in singkapo also kena celup water. If in Malaysia not too bad because mostly Proton cars. Proton cars is like aluminium tin like that, very light so can float on water wan. Thats why they charge the local Proton price similar to Mercedes in overseas. Same concept like carbon fiber mah ngam mou?

But lucky Malaysia no such flood problem. Not because we got no flood but its because we had too many floods before. Eventually the stupid gahmen got sick of soaking their lazy wrinkly lampah every other day in muddy water and started launching projects to prevent flood.

Well... actually not really also... limpek take it back. The rich corrupted politician fucks all live at hilltops and high lands anyway... The ones soaking our balls in the sewer water is you and me. The consequences of buying shit-high over-valued houses built in cheap ex oil palm estates. Not only we spend half our life trying to pay off the lampah house, we spend another half trying to kill the fucking termites. The developers (along with the gahmen fucks involved of course) think we are only same standard with termites. They eat wood, we eat grass. Together we live happily ever after in the ex oil palm estate.

"soaking in humid weather promotes fungal growth" Mario & Luigi

But at the very least we're not swimming to work nowadays like how we used to swim back from school during floods. So, mai hiam still beh pai. The only flood we have in Malaysia nowadays are the ones in Parlimen when the ceiling leak.

But then Parlimen only mah... most important place for lawmakers in Malaysia only mah.... what's the big deal? See at times like those we must be positive and remember the theory of relativity from Einstein. If stadium roof can collapse, brandless computers can cost tens of thousands, National Palace can cost 800 million, Port Klang can make billions disappear, hot gers can be blown to pieces, men can be thrown off windows, whats the big deal about some leaky ceilings in Parlimen? So next time feel free to grab a boob or two of a total stranger... and then use the theory of relativity with reference to the pedophile rapists caught yesterday and see if you can convince the police.

Speaking of the leaky Parlimen ceilings who can forget Malaysia's biggest asshole, Datuk Bung Mokhtar Radin...

Now, now, limpek is not trying to be rude or anything, but it wasnt limpek who named him an asshole. Check urban dictionary here.

1. bung hole

Another term for asshole, derived from the hole that a bung (stopper for a hole in a barrel) fits in.

Eg: "Dude, my bung hole is covered with dingleberries."

Mr. Bunghole Mokhtar (barbaric ape MP of Kinabatangan) said to lady MP Fong of Batu Gajah "Mana ada bocor? MP Batu Gajah bulan bulan pun bocor" (where got leak? MP of Batu Gajah every month also leak). Thus Datuk Anus Mokhtar single handedly set sexual discrimination and professionalism back to 50 years ago at the Parlimen. But what did Malaysians expect to come out from an anus other than shit and fart?

Of course this year Datuk Anus was again in the limelight after his polygamous relationship was revealed. His secretly-married second wife was Zizie Ezette, a much sought after actress back then. Limpek think it was WAAYYYY back then coz limpek never even heard her name. Much condemnation has been placed on Datuk Anus as deserved, but perhaps the gold-digging skank should share some of the attacks? She probably craves fatherly love from this oldman 20 years her senior. Eww. Zizie has once again proved that many girls are suckers for assholes. Or the Porsche.

Datuk Anus was fined with polygamy supposedly, but during the hearings the couple displayed very casual and joyful mood, smiling and joking about before speeding off in his Porsche Cayenne. What a mockery of the system. What a mockery of Malaysia. What a joke.

Were they not blowing hot air about the corrupted dumbass councillor of Opposition party yesterday? The Stupid Star paper, as usual, will always feature frontpage whenever a story is detrimental to the opposition party. Well, if they're really interested in wiping up shit, perhaps they can start with their own bunghole.

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