years later and i cannot shake the stalkers who are digging for dirt on
“yong may ling”
and there’s a recent addition (from a few months back)
“yc phoon”
as if. you’d have better luck on facebook. or up someone’s ass crack.
p/s i’m helping tag this post to disappoint all future stalkers. dead end, fuckers.
you know how everything just quadruples in annoying factor *KAPOW* once you’re already ticked off?
yeah. work is doing that to me now.
specifically, “senior writers” who have the whole day to gossip and whine with a fucking grating high-pitched keen. i know you’re dying, but could you take two steps in any direction to talk to someone instead of wheezing out their names over and over and over? if they didn’t hear you the first time, they won’t hear you the 34th time either. oh, sorry, forgot you’re the fucking queen of viagra. you know what, fuck you.
“art directors” who need you to hold their hand every step of the way. come in at 11:30, chat on the phone for half an hour, then yum cha, but “soooo busy la” while squealing “TEDDY BUBU I LOVE YOU” while stomping your feet and looking around to get a reaction. ya you know what? no one cares, keep it to yourself.
another fella shouting down the phone “BUSY LA , BRO!” ya maybe you can ask you boss to come in earlier rather than trying to cover up the fact that she has come in at 3-fucking-pm for no good reason. and maybe she can do more than forward emails direct with everyone’s address in it. i might as well contact julian lee from bates141 and get the brief direct. i’ll put big money that julian’s way better (for one he’s never been annoying).
another “account manager” never done deck before. fine. doesn’t read copysheet. “oh i skimmed through and thought it looked right” and “oh where are the titles?” if you aren’t going to do your fucking job, don’t expect me to treat you with any respect.
fucking “project manager” who has the IQ of a snail. no idea of scope, costing, timing. then what? lazy to boot. stop asking people to chase work for you, you stupid cunt. and yes, i know i’m not DYING like some other writers, but i’m busy so fuck off and get a real job. sheesh.
god, i can’t wait to leave this pit of annoyance and incompetence. but then again, i’m such a FUCK FACE™, so good riddance to me too.
my faithful dell laptop is a sputtering, even after a reformat (or three). but i still love it. and no, apple is not going to change my life like it changed yours. yes, it is a macbook, but it is still laptop. they aren’t mutually exclusive.
my room is so neat (disclaimer: for now) it’s like heaven.
eeeh, siapa ni? :D
am writing this from Gilliam IV as the new kid is copying over 400GB of data so i can format my tera HDD. and then, it’s going to be HFS all the way. i’m a bit scared, but not too newbie that i need to log on to apple.com for video tutorials. thank god. amen.
the aunts are were back in town for some super family gathering and there were many generation gap conversations swirling around, causing me to snigger coffee out my nose. random tech-impaired conversations. didn’t know to laugh or cry.
70+ grandaunt: actually, what’s the difference between an iphone and a blackberry?
50+ aunt: no difference wan la. only different brand, that’s all.
so tay says i should be damn proud that my grandaunt doesn’t think blackberry is a kind of jam or cake.
40+ aunt: macbook not nice la. macbook pro better.
me: i don’t really like how the MBP looks though.
40+ aunt: but it’s better! you can do that scroll scroll thingy with your fingers.
me: … you can do that on all macs!
40+ aunt: noway… since when? just recently right?
no la, they can’t really. april fools!
and one really old one for the road.
40+ aunt: i need to get a new camera. i need more megapixels.
me: actually megapixel count doesn’t matter [bla bla bla bla bla]
40+ aunt: but i need it. and i also need a camera that zooms.
me: oh ok. you plan to print? lemme have a look.
aunt’s current camera resolution set to 640×480
me: what. is. this? why you set so low?!
40+ aunt: ohhh… want to post on facebook only la.
yes, i know. technically, they’re not mum. but the FOB theme is still there wut.
maybe it is, maybe this is all that’s left cos i’ve retold anything juicy to whoever matters a mere 20 times already. i’m all dry.
please note that the damage for that stash equals approximately RM145 (give or take with the fluctuating exchange rate). jyeeeeeeaah.
so, oh mah gawd.
no way.
did’ya hear?
i’m going to london. for a creative brainstorm. i’m going to london. flying business freaking class.
two equally desparite sources give two reasons for my good fortune:
i. i’m an all-rounder creative with both digital and above-the-line experience which will be invaluable to working out the kinks that come with creating a truly integrated (media neutral) campaign.
ii. someone else more worthy couldn’t go.
if i were the sort who cared, i’d tear my hair out with the anxiety of under-performing next to the shining brilliance of this First Choice, but bigger problems have reared their ugly heads:
how many cameras to bring? which cameras? what film? how many canisters? will i have time to meet my family? ARGH, shopping for winter clothing! uncle steve reported it’s now 0°C? you must be shitting me! do i stock up on thermal underwear? what if i have a brain freeze (hehe)? can i survive a week without JT?
oh, the tribulations of being a rockstar.
a couple of nights ago, pickway was relaying some random trivia over our weekly kim gary dinner.
“did you know, grasshoppers and other performers like aaron kwok tape their dicks down?”
i choked on a spoonful of shredded pork and chinese mushroom rice. “to avoid wardrobe malfunction?” i wondered, thinking of the shiny tiny hot pants favoured by mr kwok.
“it’s because they will, y’know, ‘stand’.”
i sputtered a few grains of rice onto the table.
“you mean you’ve never heard before meh?”
do enlighten me on the hong kong entertainment scene, dear pickway.
“guys,” she said knowingly, smugly and triumphantly, “get hard when they’re tired.”
my whole life flashed (heh) before my eyes. i felt like a high school-er again.
“my boyfriend runs marathons, and he told me that when he and his friends finish running all tired like that, it gets awkward… cos you know.”
boy, was i confused. was i sorely lacking in the sex ed department? was she pulling my leg? was this something everyone knew? was this a rawang thing? i mean if only exhaustion caused erections. pfizer would go out of business.
*conversations originally in canto, yo. which makes it that much more hilarious.
does this mean my photos will be all award-winning picture perfect? hardly. it just means i don’t have to mooch off JT’s yummy lens (which has spoilt me for life) and i can also now peek into my neighbour’s house from the comfort of my room.
p/s nothing interesting has happened so far.
was stuffing my face today, more than a little distraught after some heated erm discussion with ma. then my loveliest gives me this:
he warned me that it isn’t a terribly expensive lens. like, who’s care, hon? it’s a lovely present. i love it, and i love you. <3
nikkor 70-300mm AF G. i just took a few photos of the moon tonight. i like.
tomorrow, 62mm filter!