Monthly Archives: August 2008

Stand Inside Your Love

In what has to be [in my opinion, at least] one of the most underestimated songs of the millennium, I bring forth – The Smashing Pumpkins – Stand Inside Your Love. Many thanks to Don, cause I sucked this love song from his collection of uber-awesome songs.

The video that you’re about to see is inspired by Aubrey Beardsley’s illustration for Oscar Wilde’s tragedy play, “Salome”.

“Salome” is based on the Biblical story of Salome, stepdaughter of the tetrarch Herod Antipas, who, to her stepfather’s dismay but to the delight of her mother Herodias, requests the head of Jokanaan (John the Baptist) on a silver platter as a reward for dancing the Dance of the Seven Veils.

Dark, haunting and deathly beautifully executed art direction, Stand Inside Your Love is indeed a love song sung by those who are sickeningly in love. *cough.


Your Touch Gives Me Gas

Just in :

Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
what happens when you touch a woman who’s a car
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
“your touch puts me into overdrive” ???
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Kel! says:
Kel! says:
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Kel! says:
that was lameeeeeeeeeeee
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
i wanted to say
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
“your every touch pushes me forward”
Kel! says:
Kel! says:
which infernal client is this to be requesting such a copy?
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
“your every touch gives me gas”
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
you know
Kel! says:
that is genuinely aweful
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
every time you press on the pedal you get powah?
Mei* loves Happy Hours says:
im laughing


2 Blondes, 1 Accident and RM50

Here’s a story of why you should never send 2 blondes (myself and Hazel) to do anything.

On Monday, Hazel’s car got knocked by a bus [our dear boss was jumping up and down the studio, “Hazel got banged by a bus! Hazel got banged by a bus!” before I corrected and said “Hazel’s CAR got banged by a bus!”]. To make matters worse, it was a purple tour bus [her favourite colour, not to mention it’ll be hard to get that filthy bastard to face the courts of justice] and it was an INDIAN driver [her favourite race! Long story 😛 ]

So off we trotted to the police station [boss sent me as superior escort cause I’m very bitchy and fierce apparently]. The first police officer who took her report flirted with her. I was merely rolling my eyes and trying not to elbow her in the face.

Officer #1 : SOOO! You’re from SABAH!

Hazel : Er.. yes..

O#1 : So! Is that so-and-so restaurant still there? Which end of this road do you live on?

Hazel : Uhhhhhh -_-

*gab gab gab*

So that was #1. Here’s #2 :

Officer #2 : *mumble mumble*

It was at this moment Miss Hazel decides to bend down and attempt to look at her car’s undercarriage, muttering “Where? Where?”. The police officer just winked at me.

M* : *pulls Hazel up. You blonde! You got conned!

Hazel : WHAT! CHEAT MY MONEY! *feebly attempts to kick police officer.

On a side note, may I remind you that we’re in a fecking police station! I don’t want to get booked just cause my friend decides to assault a police officer!!!!

M* : WHAT THE HELL were you doing?

Hazel : Oh, he told me there was RM50 under my car :s

M* : :s

Before we went to make a report, Hazel doubled back absentmindedly to her car and mumbled “Where’s my damn phone”, opened her car and rummaged for it.

M* : Hazel. It’s in your hand. Beneath the yellow ticket.

Hazel : Oh. Ya.

While we were in the car on the way back to the office on a slope, I noticed something abnormal from the corner of my eye. I sat up and told Hazel :

M* : HOI! You cow! The car’s going backwards! The car’s sliding!

Hazel : ??

M* : The car is sliding!

Hazel : … you cow it’s not! The truck next to us is moving forward.

M* : Oh. 😀

A piecemeal of what goes on in the office almost everyday. Tsk.


Mei’s Wrath

Most of you who know me know of my nice easygoing nature.

Except when provoked. ROAR!

On Tuesday, I went to the post office to pay some bills. The usual electrcity, water etc kind. Since the post office is conveniently located opposite my gym, I scooted there after my yoga session [and a quick shower lest I kill everyone with my body odour] and parked my car in a nice yellow box, not behind anyone’s car and certainly not obstructing anyone’s entry or exit.

After waiting what seemed to be eternity [25 minutes], I finally managed to pay my bills. Well what do you know, some idiot has parked behind me. Actually, make that 2 idiots, since there was another car parked just right behind me that would’ve made my exist even more difficult then it already is.

Countless reversings later, I finally decided to honk so that the idiot driver of the red Proton Gen-2 will come out and move his her car out of the way. Motherfucking idiots that park behind other people’s car and inconvenience everyone should be shot dead and their carcass displayed on the KL Tower to make an example out of their stupidity and inconsiderate nature.

This lady comes out to move her car. I recognised her as my bank investment officer [I donate money every month to OCBC for investment purposes, and they in turn plunder it and rape virgin forests invest it wisely with their shareholders]. So I gave a little honk to wave and say hello [even though I don’t really like that bitch, Carina Lau of OCBC USJ 9]. She then turned to me and said “WAIT LAH”.

Hmm. Is that how one would treat clients? I drove home and called her. Here goes the conversation :

M* : Good morning Carina. I was just wondering if you drive a red proton Gen-2 ..

FoolishBankDrone : Er.. yes.

M* : Oh, right. Next question : Are you usually RUDE to your clients?

FBD : [silence] What do you mean, Miss Ng?

M* : Oh you know, I was in my car and I honked to say hello but you told me rather rudely to “WAIT”.

FBD : *Sticky sweet voice* Oh sorry Miss Ng! I didn’t know it was you!

M*: My windows aren’t tinted.

FBD : Ah but we met only for a short while!

M* : But I still remember you. Are you saying that I am of inconsequence to you? But moving on, may I ask why do you have to park behind other people’s car and inconvenience them so?

FBD : Oh I am so sorry, but you do not understand Miss Ng…

M* : You work in that area. The least you can do is PAY FOR PARKING

FBD : But that area is very packed!

M* : That still does not give you the right to park indiscriminately.

If I were to park behind someone else’s car in my office, I surely won’t be surprised if my car were scratched / stolen / smashed to smithereens by the time I came back for it. She’s just lucky I didn’t have a brick handy to smash her skull in.

FBD : Well dear, I’m so sorry cause I was wondering “Who this girl is” … [insert more nonsense fakery here, I was fuming by this time and wanted to tell her to get raped before getting blown up by C-4]

M* : Enough of this. You have so far been rude and unprofessional. What will it take for you to respect me? Close down my bank account and cancel future transactions with you?  Thank you and have a nice day.

Now a few problems I have with this Foolish Bank Drone [or Fucking Bitch, DIE!]

1. She is forgetful. She once forgot to pass me a form to fill and sign, nearly resulting in my investment being delayed by a few days. It’s okay if it’s your first job, or your first day, your first week. But it wasn’t. So she’s sloppy, stupid and unprofessional.

2. For our very first meeting, I was dressed in torn jeans and a FCUK t-shirt. Yes, I dress like that to work. She didn’t even bother to talk to me until I introduced myself and told her I had a meeting with her. Cue fake smile and all the appropriate fakery that comes along with it. I can’t stand people like that. So fucking what if I dress the way I want to to go to work or the bank. I’m giving you my money to put in your hands for safekeeping, stupid bitch.

3. I was in the police station lodging a report against the pervert when she called me at 2.50, telling me that I have 10 minutes before the transaction deal is done for the day. Naturally I was fuming. Who fucking calls 10 minutes before something is due, especially when it’s your client you’re calling? In university, that’s tantamount to a FAIL. So I told her “I am in the police station. You call me 10 minutes before something is due. Is it my fault you decide to call so late?”. She naturally shut up and gave me half an hour.

4. So I find out that I’m the secondary contact, and that my father is the primary. Well hello, if you can’t contact the primary, you immediately contact the secondary. Are you fucking stupid? Oh sorry, I forgot you actually are! I’m delighted, as it’s my first time meeting a person who’s so deathly stupid, slow to comprehend and lacks common sense…

Yes, four is indeed a few.

Nevertheless she sent me a text message apologising again :

Dear Miss Ng, I sincerely apologise if in any way I have been rude to you, but it was an accident as I couldn’t see you very clearly Again, my windows are not tinted and are you trying to say you’ve forgotten what your client looks like?  You must be fucking kidding me! I never forget what my clients look like, as that would be death! I had no idea it was you saying hello and just tot [sic] that the driver was being impatient Hello, you blocked my fucking path you stupid cunt. I have all the right to be impatient. What if my colostomy bag burst and I was dripping feces all over my car? Of course I’d like to hurry the fuck back home to clean it Again, I would not have been staring in the rearview mirror if i knew you were just being friendly So she admits bitchstaring at me, which I didn’t even raise as an issue. This woman obviously needs to know how to talk to her clients. Fucking moron

To which I replied :

Thank you. You referred to me as girl, clearly emphasising your lack of respect for me or anyone else younger than you. Just because I am 23 does not mean I know nothing. Just because I go to work in casual wear does not mean I an unemployed. I work as a copywriter in a well-established advertising agency and my clients are MNCs [Multi National Corporations], including a bank. Please respect those who chose and can dress however they like.

She did not respond after that.

Carina Lau of OCBC USJ 9, I hope you’re reading this and you realise the follies of your erroneous ways. May I suggest you work as a cleaner, because you evidently think that in your position and supposed qualifications, you’re higher than others. Newsflash : I am still your client. By hook or crook, the clients are always right as we pay your bills.



Everyone who knows me knows how loud, uncouth, feisty, strong and opinionated I can be. However, I have come to realise that unfortunately this isn’t such a good thing afterall.

People automatically think : Feisty -> Strong -> Must carry mace with her / Know some form of martial arts = No need to accompany her to the carpark.

Or so my ex thought as he didn’t like hanging around outside my door before I scooted inside safe and sound. So he’ll drop me off and zoom away. What a jerkface.

Now I don’t exactly carry mace with me all the time [I do know some form of martial art, but say I get a pistol shoved in my face, how’s a kick to the face and a punch to the stomach going to save my life before he proceeds to scatter my brains into my car tyres?]. But let’s look at it this way :

It’s Malaysia. It is generally unsafe. I don’t want to become another statistic, I don’t want to die rolling in my own blood and piss in the parking lot, I don’t want to be left for dead in the drain.

I’d much rather die a more … dignified death. Say of cancer [family risk] or in a car accident [given the driving skills of Malaysians].

So yes, I would GREATLY APPRECIATE it if I were to be walked to my car. My colleagues do that for me [or we stumble out of the bar in a group to the parking lot].

I don’t give 2 hoots if I parked in Cineleisure or Gardens or Centrepoint. I don’t fucking trust immigrant security guards. In fact, I don’t think it’s safe to be walking alone to the car anymore, since some weird guy was following me around the carpark [I looked lost anyway. Whence I realised he was following me, I scooted back in the building like a nun on fire via the back entrance and proceeded to run towards the other level to my car]

I COULD ask security guards to accompany me back to my car [50-50 chance they’re a baddie, or am I just being paranoid?], or I COULD be more of a damsel-in-distress.

But you know what, at the end of the day, a gentleman or someone who really cares about you [and your safety] would only walk you to your car.