Riiiggghhhhhtttt....
If you have been driving around Kuala Lumpur recently and being the mainstream radio whore in your music preference, you would have heard that line on air. When exactly, I don't know but not too long ago. Recent as a matter of fact. And yes, I became a mainstream radio whore for a good 10 seconds because I actually wanted to listen to some radio ads. You know, just to get away from my already outdated CD collection for a while (by outdated I'm not referring to your Engelbert Humpadick kinda bullshit, you tasteless whore. I'm just 3 months behind my music pirating practise). AAAnnyyhooo... just when I thought that radio ads are actually the only saviour of shitty radio stations out there, came this line so powerful, it hit me so fucking hard in my jejenum that I literally puked last month's salmon sushi out of my stomach lining. Yea, I still keep it in there just in case world war 3 is around the corner.
* Part of the alimentary canal between the duodenum and ileum.
What the fuck does "You've Only Got One Life, Do Something!" in a seriously concern tone means? Ok, so it's about a foundation trying to save those abused/homeless children. And if they really are as described, I'm quite sure no one gives two fucks about them anyway because if people DID care, they wouldn't need a radio campaign, would they? C'mon now, don't get all hypocritical and judge me of my "insensivity" towards this issue. When was the last time you donated anything to anyone besides your toilet trip for the municipal council?. Now how's that for doing something? Anyway, by the time they gave me that diarrhea spew, I've already forgetten what the fuck the foundation is truly about. I am just fucking flabbergasted by the creative team's idea man. Have they totally lost their creative senses and just went "You know what, let's just try to make them feel bad to tap into their charity side. Let's make them feel bad about not donating man. Let's just ask them if they ACTUALLY did something.. heh heh" *followed by an evil grin while they sip their imported beer in a cosy creative studio room with a 64 inch plasma TV mated to a PS 3.
Well, Mr. Creative Director, or perhaps Mr. Foundation Chairman, let me just say you really fuck this one up big time. And you guys spent quite a sum of money on mainstream radio too, to tell us things that we already know :
1. We HAVE one life - anyone who've got two, let me know. I'll buy half of the other off you. Buying the whole package would make me lonely. So I'll offer you half. You and me. When everyone's dead. What say you? Better than spending it on charity right?
2. We ARE doing things constantly.
Perhaps I can tell you what people with ONE life do everyday. Just in case you were too busy exploring your creative mojo, petrol prices went up and it went down just a tad too little to repair any damage. And business is affected like an HIV infected whore who's made public about her disease. That's right, no one's coming! So that one life is trying pretty damn hard now to make sure his/her children doesn't starve to half death and make it into a foundation for your creative exploitations. And that same person is probably trying so damn hard to pay his mortgage and shit just to make sure his family don't enrol into a homeless welfare. And here you are, selling a fine dining cuisine table ala-francoise-le-blanc for about 36,000 Ringgit in the name of charity? I don't know about you, but this charity thing here is getting pretty expensive for us commoners to fuck around with.
How about you guys start writing ads that makes sense so that people would actually be entertained or touched then perhaps, they will donate and eventually keep your ass on a payroll? Now THAT, is doing something. Writing ads that direct people while trying to stay subtle does not.
But seriously, if I were to really be that naive and took their one-power-liner rather seriously, this is what I would have done:
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Yeap! Gonna take a dump. I AM doing something. As a matter of fact, I'm doing a lot of things for a lot of people even. The toilet roll came from the grocery store who bought it from the marketing company who pushes products of the paper mill who buys electricity from power producers who eventually will need toilet rolls too. What could I say, I've only got one life. I've gotta do something.
If you think I mispelled that, you're an idiot. Because if there's one characteristic that should be installed in kids these days, they should know how to chill the fuck out. Let me put things into perspective here: You are hanging out, having a decent coffee moment, slowly sipping your decaff cafe au lait with organic soy milk from a goat (whatever the fuck that means) and just people watching (OK, by people watching I mean guys looking at cleavages and girls looking at another girl's cleavage) a sudden burst of a really unsettling noise erupts from the other corner where you're sitting. You look around, locating that irritating wail and there it is, a hyena fucking shouting for attention from their already attention deprived parents. And so you say, "well, kids are just kids" right? Wrong! The only reason why kids today are loud, obnoxious and downright evil with their vocal levels is because daddy and mommy lets them. You know, all these "I wanna let my kid express himself" load of crap.
What I really don't understand about this concept is when parents tell me that they wanna be their childrens' friend rather than an authoritative figure. Seriously, being interested in kids myself (not in that kinda sick way, you moron), I totally agree by being their support system. Only thing is, how the fuck can they be your "friend" when they're freaking 5 years old? They probably think that daddy's a pussy because he can't even win an argument with his own kid for being too liberal. Remember those times when mummy tells you to eat that piece of blob called brocolli? You know what, let me just guide you through a graphical situation here:
Year : 2008
Scenario : Mother as "Mummy" and 5 year old daughter as "Lisa", the spoilt fucking brat, at the dinner table.
Mummy : Lisa, eat the vegs. It's good for you. It makes you strong and healthy.
Lisa : But I hate it. It tastes horrible.
Mummy : No, it tastes good. You're a little princess and princess likes vegetables. They make your skin smooth.
Lisa : No. I read the storybook and the princess seems to eat alot of nice food. Like chocolates.
Mummy : OK, if you finish this vegs, I will give you chocolates ok? It's in the fridge.
Lisa : Really?! Can I have the chocolates now? I'll promise to eat the vegs after the chocolates.
Mummy : No, you have to finish your dinner first.
Lisa : But I'm already full.
Next thing you know, Lisa ran straight to the fridge and down a whole bar of Nestle Crunch. Then mummy went "Oh no, what am I gonna do with her?"
Pathetic fucking scenario right? All these convincing tales and her kid went high on sugar instead. Also, if you could trace the negotiation in between. Fucking kid was actually trying to strike a deal with her mom! Now, if I could remember correctly, it went like this:
Year : 1985
Scenario : Mother as "Mummy" and 5 year old son as "Ben", the pitiful snob, at the dinner table.
Mummy : Ben, eat the vegs. (See here? She doesn't even sell him the reason)
Ben : But I hate it. It tastes horrible.
*SSSppppaaaapppp!!* - Aahh.. the ultimate swing, twist and slap* technic.
*Swing, twist and slap : Where mothers swings their palm towards their kids' cheek and angles an additional 10 degrees about a quarter inch to contact, for that extra zing on sting.
Mummy : You think daddy grows money on trees? You think petrol is cheap? You eat your fucking vegetables or I'm gonna disown and sell you off. Coz you might just be too expensive to rare.
If you think that was bad, imagine this : Daddy just got home from a hard day's work and found out from the Tigress that Ben hates vegetables. Daddy pulls out belt.....
Now that, my friend, is discipline. Negotiation is non-existence and pain equals to order. Seriously, if you wanna be their friend, at least let them have a brain that's developed first. Do you really think the Mamilgold XF 66 formula really makes them think better? You might as well just feed them crack. At least when they're passed out, you can continue your pathetic Korean drama for a full 16 hours.
So what's my solution? Beat the shit out of your kid till they're 16 (17 if they're not running away from home yet) and make them work the moment they have hair growing out of their armpit. Because if you don't, they will soon realise that the world's no fairy tale, and their prince charming might very well be a drunkard and rapes other princesses. Your kids are fighting for the same toy? Break that fucking doll and give them each a stick to play. At least they can learn self defense. Your kids are still running around after numerous warnings? Lock them in your store room. At least they can learn how to improvise their own toys. And if you hate your dad for forcing you to look at him fixing the heater, or your mom for telling you to clean the house when you were young, give them a call now and tell them how much you love them for making you half a snobbish whore that you already are. And if you're asking what the hell did I do for my parents, I've already registered them at the best old folks home in town with a premium membership. Coz I still remember how dad used those pliers on my fingers...
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At this age, they won't realise a thing even if you lock them up...
If the word "fuck" is represented by the amount of X's here, that means you're fucked 3 times. And what exactly am I talking about? The new Triple X burger from KFC of course, you sick moron. Geez man, what were you thinking? Vin Diesel doing a hard pumping gear shifting scene with Asia Argento? Tsk tsk...
Aaaanyyhooo.. you remember the new advertisement campaign by KFC lately? You know, how this one other guy is telling the other guy who's holding that piece of crap and said "Wah.. you can rreaaaaallllyyy eat ar??". Well, I pity the guy who's holding the bugger (it's not a typo error, bitch). Seriously. He probably thought that he was the smarter fuck who will get a more satisfying meal than his friend who'll be eating a banana leaf meal. Man, how wrong was he. So how did I know? Coz I got sucked by the misleading world of advertising of course. Technically that is. You see, my friend/colleague was on the way back from his banking rounds and he called to ask if I would like to have some munch for lunch. So I said yes. And being the nice guy that he is, he probably thought that we'll both be very happy if we could get our hands on some satisfying, cholestrol laden meal. A very nice thought indeed. So he suggested *Jeng jeng jeng!* The TRIPLE X BURGER!!! *Jeng jeng jeng!* Not convinced? Check this out :
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Scene 1 : Geek with a huge-ass burger in hand. Trying to stuff his face with that piece of poo. Notice how his face is half covered by the burger? And how the cheese juts out nicely in two triangular piece?
Scene 2a : Cheese pops onto the bun, follow by two alien looking deep fried shit slamming on top of the cheese. "Slamming" coz the bun actually wobbles a little after the drop. Notice that there are no gaps in between the two patties.
Scene 2b : Topped off with two huge ass tomato slices, lettuce and a squeezeful of creamy diarrhoea juice.
Scene 3 : For big appetites it seems.
HOW THE HELL CAN YOU NOT FALL FOR THAT?! C'mon man, burgers with all those kick ass stuff and you don't even have the slightest urge to at least try one?! You must be broke or you're homo. And I'm sorry for you if you're either one. Well, to make things really clear here, I'm definitely not one of em and I want a piece of that shit, I promised myself that. So what better way to have it by way of a personal delivery? Perfect. Hot afternoon? Perfect. Growling stomach. Perfect. Almost done with quotations. Perfect. Car's approaching the parking bay. And door opens. In comes the above mentioned friend. Walking in a pace that you would think he's actually tempting you further, with the swinging plastic bag filled with goodies on each side.
"Nah! Chiak, chiak, chiak!" *
*"Here! Eat, eat, eat!" (Yea, us Hokkien people are still quite behind civilization by means of communication)
Plastic bag opens and there I was, grabbing a big ass bite. And that was the exact moment when I felt that I actually wallop half that shit with the first bite. "What the fuck?!" I thought to myself. And I decided to go CSI with this burger. Coz it just feels wrong. To my horror, this was what I saw! *Jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng jeng!*
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If you can spot the patty, approach any eye drop company and be their ambassador. You'll be rich and eat better burgers than this. Seriously. I mean, how the hell can they even name this the Triple X? Cross check with the images i loaded earlier. Cheese? Patties? Lettuce? Tomatos? Triple X my balls? As a matter of fact, I would actually call this the Cripple X. Check out the gap between one patty to another. Put a traffic light in the middle and I'm sure we can ease some traffic problems off the PLUS Highway. As of now, I think Ramli Burger* is the most honest in the advertising campaign by far. Their advertising direction? You got it... none. Because they can't shout how big their patties are. So they might as well just shut the hell up and leave it to the burger stalls to do the selling.
*Ramli Burger : Local burger with unindentified form of mince meat with occasional chunks. Ooey, Gooey, but delicious.
So what's the solution? An honest to goodness advertising campaign of course. And if I were to head a TV commercial for Cripple X, it'll probably go like this:
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Boy : Hmm.. ane, nasi kasi mari..
Boy : Yea, gimme that, and that, and this, and that.. yea...
Boy : Heh..mm..yummy.. *stomach growls* heh..heh..
Boy : Huh?
Boy : *Pooooottt * Stomach growls again*
Boy : Wah! Why are you not eating?! You not hungry ar?!
Voice Over : Cripple X burgers, for big apes who pays for our burgers.
Indian man : Dei! Next time you want to snack, be a man and eat our curry puffs la! Yennadei!
There you go, my attempt at making an ad for the upcoming Kancil Awards. Hopefully they have a "Most Honest TV Commercial" category in their awards. Pretty fucking sure my great idea will be a hit. Oh yeah, Happy Chinese New Year to you guys out there. Go ahead and enjoy your holidays. Go try your luck and gamble some away. Perhaps I'll be back with a Prosperity Burger post....
Just a recent comment from my friend, that we have not been updating this blog too much and that our site hits are getting lower by the day. Add to the fact that my fellow contributt-ers are either too busy reading other people's blog or too busy commenting on other people's blog. Well, if you feel that we're just a tad too lazy to update this blog every now and then, I would like to say that I'm really, really, truly, honestly and I mean it, really couldn't care too much shit about how you feel. This is a good blog, and it entertains in terms of quality than quantity. I mean, how would you like it if I update every 13 minutes writing about my trips to the toilet and how my shit stacks on top of each other nicely and the content of CO2s around the air after every session? Geez man.. just be patient and you will get some kick ass blogticles (that means this is a blog with balls, you idiot). And yes, I do take a lot of crap in a day because the doctor said so.
Well, just not to offend anyone here, I guess I'll just fall in the request of an update. As you've know it, I'm quite a big fan of guns or anything that shoots particles/articles and hurt another person. But I've stumbled across this and finally, and I really mean FINALLY I've actually wanted to be someone/something else. All my life I thought I was perfect and that nothing can make me happier than well, myself. But I was wrong. And I am right that I was wrong. I wanted to be him/this/it, whatever.
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"We're cum-ming to dominate the world and you should be afraid!"Just imagine, everytime he's "triggered", he "fires". Lucky son of a bitch. Oh, and that's a huge one too...
And you thought that the design team from Transformer are just geeks. But their imagination is something to respect about. Who the hell could imagine that a simple "apparatus" could actually be placed in such a perfect position?
So there you go, a quality blog from none other than the great us. Just before you guys get all emo and shit when we're not blogging, remember this quote "It is better to run a free lap in an Aston Martin DBS than to be given a free Proton Saga for 3 months".
Guys, get your champagne and roast porks ready coz today we're celebrating. The occasion? My first blog post from Cambodead. Ok, ok, I'm just joking. Skip the champagne. Just bring the roast pork.
Aaannnyyyhooo... the inspiration for this post came from an after-lunch-let's-get-lazy-and-skip-work coffee session with my Cambodia comrade : The almighty Jerry from Hong Kong, the land of snobbish whores. But wait, Jerry ain't snobbish, he's just well, a whore. Like everyone of us I guess. So just before we start bitching again (this time, the word "bitch" do come of significance in this post), let me just plug a few words of appreciation for my comrades here. Yes, comrade"s" coz I DO have friends over here. Mark and Jerry, this is to you. The metaphor of you guys being a man's best friends. Hold on, did I hear someone shouting "HOMO!" behind the computer? Yea, fuck you too, you fucking blowjob!
FOOH~! HOOH!! DAamnn! AAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAA!!! Assooowahhcakalakalaka! OOhhmmaiyablahblahwalaneh! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Ok, anger aside and cutey, happy, la la hello kitty time. Check this cute little thing here:
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Isn't it cute? How nice is it to you know, bring it to an al-fresco cafe, sip some nice cool smoothies then cuddle around with it. Asking it a cute and stupid question like "What are you doing, huh? What are you doing, you little cutey munchy? How are you? Hmm? You hungry? You wanna eat? What is 3+4x79/45, huh?" Wouldn't that be nice?
But do you know what would be better?
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Yup, locking the bitch up because that's where it's suppose to be.
It never fails to piss the shit, and I'm talking about diarrhea kinda shit out of me whenever a girl or occasionally a gay (or sometimes a gay who pretends to like guys but is actually interested in girls coz it's easier to get closer to them), dress their shitszuo-what in a freaking honeybee suit and chuck them right in the middle of a coffee table so everyone can see it? Or worst still, they actually go indoor. Yes, INDOOR, and let that smut get comfortable on the couch where HUMANS are suppose to sit?
You see, coming from a country where dogs are supposedly some sort of a taboo to the Malay races, these ignorant bitches, both the owner and the dogs do not seem to understand that pets are just pests when they're placed in an area meant for humans. What were they thinking? That their pets are actually quite "human" too coz it can take a poo by itself in the garden? That they're no different than anyone of us human beings? That they're like a family coz the puppy eat the same freaking stir fry pork fat with cabbage that they eat at home? I mean c'mon man. Haven't they heard of allergy, or cynophobia* or in my case of point, racial respect? See? I'm a good person too. I care. I do.
*go look that word up in case you're that dumb fuck with the dog constantly on the coffee table in a cafe somewhere
And when you tell them that, they go all berserk and start defending themselves by saying "She's clean, ok? She doesn't shed even a single strand of coat, ok?" C'mon man, let's get real here. If the dog doesn't shed, how does a pale looking golden retriever puppy turns into a gold looking golden retriever dog/bitch when they grow up? And fleas? You must be kidding if you say that it doesn't have fleas at all. Yea, sad news. Your dog is now an official disease bearer. Being surrounded by ignorants, let me just give you my pet peeves, literally. And please, dear god, please justify it with your own logic.
1. They do a lip locking french with the dog,
2. They sleep with it and it's alright when it chews a fucking chicken bone given to them from yesterday's dinner next to the pillow they sleep on (it's true, ask Jerry),
3. They let them shit in the room and goes "How cute, he's taking a dump next to my cupboard, an improvement coz last night it crapped on my bed",
4. They buy a fucking overpriced imported french vanilla ice cream, take a lick, then let the dog lick it, then lick it again themselves. I encourage the act of sharing, but this? My dog's considered lucky even if it gets to eat my locally produced sugar cone crumbs off my floor,
5. Last but not least, sending them to "pet salons".
The last time I remembered, my mom used dish washer to give that dog a bath. It's gonna stink in a couple of days time anyway, so why bother using SK-9 (got that? SK-II for canine, SK-9. Damn, I'm a genius!) for that "silky smooth shiny coat". It's still gonna stink tomorrow. But mind you, I do like dogs as well. Well, not in that beastaility kinda way, you morons. I like cuddling them, but that is it. You feel good, they feel good. You go to sleep. It gets locked outside of the house. It's fine. It's a universal sense. Pets need to have a function. You wanna get affectionate with another living being, go to Svay Pak, St. 11 in Cambodia (well, I don't know if they have gigolos there, but you can try).
So, what's my conclusion? The people who did what I stated here endures the follow conditions:
1. They're lonely,
2. They're lacked of attention,
3. They LOVE animals, in a sick kinda way now,
4. All of the above.
And what's my solution?
1. Get a REAL life partner. They're smarter. Seriously. The actually poop in the toilet.
2. Get a webcam and join a community in I don't know, seemenakedathome.com
3. Get a REAL life partner. They actually enjoy themselves when you are.
4. Do all of the above.
So the next time you wanna go to a cafe to read a chic-lit and have no other choice but to bring Sparky out because your house mate is not around or your mom is sick of taking care of it, do this:
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Bobby, sleep! Now that's a good dog.
Or if you're someone who's as lacked of attention like me (yes, I do suffer the condition as well), try this :
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Meet Hairy, my house pet. And yes, I still lock him up and I don't share my dinner with him.
FOOH~! HOOH!! DAamnn! AAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAA!!! Assooowaahhcakalakalaka! OOhhmmaiyablahblahwalaneh! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Now THAT, my friend, THAT, is how you de-stress yourself. Bet you my balls that whatever divine power that you believe in doesn't teach you that. And how the hell can someone eliminate stress if they're to keep silent? Stress is a freaking grenade which upon time, converts into an atomic sized bad ass explosion. So, listen to this and keep it close to your mind: Would you rather throw hand grenades once in a while and cause smaller problems to a smaller circle of people or drop one, just like Nagasakshit and cause a big pile of cow dung, thus effecting a freaking population. Remember, do it 160 times a day and 80 times a week. Geez, talk about bad maths.
Now, bestow upon me and I shall teach you more...
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Ok, since I'm not that stress, let me just give you another example: say you have heaps of air/wind inside your stomach coz you have been eating late night meals and just a tad too lazy to take a dump everyday..in other words, you're just too lazy to shit coz you're one hell of a hardworking eater but slow working shitter. So, would you let out small farts throughout the day, and affect your next-table colleague OR, would you rather keep it in and by the time of end-office period, let out a bad ass one that everyone could hear and smell? Think about it...
Ahh..4 fucking months! And you oughta do that too if you were me. Of course you can never do it in my stylish and elegant kinda way. For those who're curious, it's called : "The jungle's a' howlin' ". And now, let's just get to the point. BITCHIN'!
Anyway, that's what this blog is about, right? Yes I am...
You see, I have been in 2 places every now and then to search for a greener pasture in terms of financial security through my family business and ultimately, freedom of life of course (Yes, I am a pompus rich kid who's backed by my dad if that makes you envious sluts happy. Sulk and be jealous because I can). And every now and then, people would come up to me and ask, "So, how's Cambodead? Any opportunities? Oh yeah, what do you think of a washing detergent business over there? Can do ar? Got market ar?". To which my reply is always "Can do, but most important is your own presence over there la. You have to see it for yourself. Feel the culture and study the market."
And the following reply never fails to annoy the shit out of me: "Aiyor, I where got time. Eh, can help me find out whether blablabla can do or not? Try to go and find out blablabla for me can ar? Then maybe we can work this thing together because blablabla. Blablabla, blabla, bla, blablablablabla.*POOooOOOooottt!". Nothing but plain fart.
How, and I really mean HOW, can a person do anything at all, if he doesn't want to be where they're suppose to be to make things happen?! That's just plain ignorance. I sell technical equipments. And these smart fucks expect me to find out the market of, I don't know, undergarments for them?! And mind you, I'm not too bitter a person but when 15 motherfuckers who instill "hope" inside them, tend to throw me the above conversations and expects a freaking report about Victoria's Secret in bloody Phnom Penh, I can't help but to feel like I'm a messenger of some sort.
Ignorance. Period. And that's how exactly dumb and oblivious certain individuals could be. The Family survived 5 bad ass hard years to set foot for a company that's making just enough and these people come along, and anticipated free findings and learnings out of nothing?~! Shit, the stress is coming back again.
FOOH~! HOOH!! DAamnn! AAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAA!!! Assooowaahhcakalakalaka! OOhhmmaiyablahblahwalaneh! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Aaannnyyyhoo...the next time you wanna ask someone for a favor, think. Think, think, think, of how involve you should and MUST BE in realising the outcome of that favor. If you expect someone to do the job for you (as a favor) without you wanting to lift a finger, well, you should just buy a wheelchair. Or maybe just die. But if you shall insist on giving orders for favors while wanting to be alive, try this:
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Talk to it. You know what, fuck the hand shit. Talk to this instead:
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Do it 160 times a day and 80 times a week.
First of all : prior to me writing the first alphabet for this post last 2 weeks, I've received a call about my cousin's death. My cousin's sudden death from heart attack. Great guy, noble character. But fat. So, cheesy as it seems, may he rest in peace with the burgers and booze he's always loved. And this time, it's even better for him. Coz he can't die twice up there I think. And this is not a joke. I'm as serious as your girl/boyfriend telling you to stop digging your nose in public and eating the boogers after that. Alex, you eat the shit out of yourself up there because now, you can. Respect, brader!
Now that we've got that our of my system.... let's get back to the main shit here. BROADBAND *Psycho's soundtrack playing in the background with the tunes being mimicked by Akon*.
Have you ever tried being a freaking pirate on music coz you're being promised "100mbps", which obviously is shared, and realised that you can actually take a dump, then a shower, then drive out to Seremban from KL to buy a bowl of beef noodle then come home and find out that Snow Patrol's - Chasing Car download window has been changed to "Snow Patrol - Waiting for Bus"? That is exactly how slow it is. Or how when it rains, the speed drops like crazy? I mean, we will aways be ahead of other countries in terms of our so called services or speed because we, I mean they, constantly compare themselves to broadbands in war torn third world countries. It's good as comparing a Proton with a Chery. And honestly, Chery will be better than our local carmakers soon. Very soon.
Let me tell you an experience I had, back tracked to about 4 years ago... I think. I was working with a fucked up boss who had a fucked up office in a fucked up building called Kelana Segi Empat. So as usual, TM will deploy their loud mouthed sales people around the building to sell, well, broadbitch. So came one girl, rang the bell (which had a note next to it clearly indicating that no sales people are allowed unless with appointment) and wanted to sell us packages of their self overrated broadband packages. So as usual, I open the door and she stormed to my boss's room. Opening up her brochure and started explaining how good and sweet their shit is. How fast the speed and how much porn my horny boss can download.
So my boss being the sucker that he is, said "OK, let's try it then." and proceeded to signing the application form with all the works. After all the jingles and mingles, she said she'll be back in two days time to pass my boss the receipt when he pays by then.
Two days passed and "ding dong".
Came the same girl, and again walked into my boss's room and she said this : "I'm sorry, the service is yet to reach this building, so we have to wait for another 2 months. But you can pay first, just in case of a price hike." How fucking dumb is that?! I understand that they're contracted companies to deal with the sales and marketing stuff. But imagine trying to sell a product that doesn't exist yet but they wanna complete the transaction. Again, how dumb can they be? And yes, both the contracted company and TM. Which I am sure as of now, it stands for "Tak Mau".
And if you have problems with your connections and they actually arrive, you're lucky. Very very lucky. Because the technicians are usually somewhere else. So, for you guys that are looking for alternatives in broadband services, click on the link below and see what kinda mothershit balls the truth is on Malaysia Broadband. And I bet BlueHippo the irritating fucker will soon turn green and die of STD. Meanwhile, and as usual, check out my interpretation of the biggest broadband in Malaysia:
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Just like a dead and lifeless bitch.
Also, remember to check this out :
