Of things that are pissing me off during the finals: Part 4

You know what pisses me off? Okay to be fair…..a lot of things piss me off. I am easily irritable. Some poor fuck look at me the wrong way and I’ll be pissed for days. I should start taking anger management classes, but that is not the issue here. Since this is my blog, we’re not gonna focus on my anger problem. We’re gonna focus on the fuckers that are pissing me off right now, at this very moment.

 

 

I’m gonna talk bout show off blogs.

 

 

You know………………those kinds.

 

 

“OMG! I went to the mall today. I bought pink toilet tissues to wipe my smelly ass with!”

 

 

*insert picture of said pink toilet tissue*

*insert picture of blogger’s smelly ass*

*readers collectively die from the sheer stupidity and fuckery of it all*

 

 

Really bish? Really? Is it really necessary for the whole goddamn world to know that you bought this and this on that and that day? Reaaaaly? Reeeeeaaaaaaly? Is your life so motherfucking mundane that buying random, worthless, fugly, cheap-ass shit need to be blog about? Reaaaaallllly?

 

 

I mean come on!!

 

 

There are exceptions of course. If per’se, you just bought your first house, your first car…these are life milestones. Then by all means; take photos. Blog about it. Go crazy. But does the collective world really need to know about how you went to One Utama today and bought Big Apple Doughnuts, complete with pictorial description of each doughnut? Is your life that sad and void of neither importance nor significance that buying doughnuts just became the highlight of your motherfucking week? Realllly? If it is then damn son, that is some sadass sssshyit. If you are running a shopping blog then yes, blog away bout the things you just spend your hard-earned money on. If you are running fashion blog, then yes, do tell us all about your adventures in the Jimmy Choos store in downtown London. Or wherever. I just made that up.

 

 

But really come on. Once in a while it’s fine to do that shit. Once in a while. Not all the motherfucking time. Blog about something else for a change. The weather perhaps. Your bowel movements. Your pet koala’s bowel movements. Something else other then how much money your drop today to buy that fugly-ass bag. You are more then the shit you buy. Don’t let your purchases define who you are cause that’s just sad. This whole fuckery of blogging of things that you have bought just to upped someone else and to show off that you are super-d-duper rich is just sad okay.

 

 

Cause, guess what? Wealth comes and goes and that shit you buy could or could not be pawned off. But genuine wittiness and talent for the dramatics such as the one I was born with could never be bought. So got sit in the corner with your 1000$- something bag and have a conversation with it while I entertain everyone with my amusing stories and become the life of the party. As I always am and you will never be.

 

 

So blog about that for once and stick it in your 1000$ bag. You pucchiaca.

Clean, my ass

Well hello there, here we are back again at yet another instalment on Dramatic Musings in which I bitch about Mr. Clean. Otherwise known as the Australian-fucktard-I-live-with. Well then, settle in, get comfortable and enjoy the post.

 

See, I dunno whether I mentioned this before or not but when I moved in here I was told by the Australian-fucktard-I-live-with that there are a set of rules in which I am supposed to abide by when living in this house. The rules are as followed:

 

1)     No guests stay over more then 2 nights in a row. In fact he would prefer it if I bring no on home at all.

 

See I am totally cool with this rule. To tell you the truth I kinda like it cause it gives me the privacy that I crave and it would stop people from always wanting to crash at my place. Also, I have never mentioned this before but the bedrooms doors in this house have no locks. Only the front door, the backdoor and the bathroom have locks on the door. See this is a house based on the “Concept of Trust” or some fuckery right that. The rule is thart when you leave the house, you don’t close your bedroom’s door. You leave it wide open. When you’re home, you close it. It works as a signal too. And the system works to certain extend cause I have lived here for 2 months now and none of my stuff have gone missing. So yeah, okies.

 

2)     No dishes stay out all night long.

 

It’s more of a hygiene issue. You wash the dishes as soon as you used them, leave it out to dry and then keep them at night. So no dishes stay out at night. Sometimes once a while I don’t keep mine or the other 2 do the same and it’s cool. As long as you keep it the next morning but the ultimate thing is that no dirty dishes in the sink.

 

3)     “Don’t come home late at night, if you need to come home at 3am you might as welll don’t come home at all.”

 

He said that to me. I told him seeing that I am paying the rent which technically makes this house my house as well, I come home anytime I want. I’ll keep the noise to a minimum.

 

4)     Don’t turn on the music or TV too loud.

 

Understandable.

 

5)     No showers above 15 mins or we have to pay extra.

 

I take one hour showers everyday, I told him I’ll pay the extra. Stupid fuck. I blame my parents for making me stay here.

 

6)     People have to do chores according to the duty roster.

 

Okay so the house has a duty roster. Dissapeara and I share one bathroom, and le Fucktard has the master bedroom. So let me break it down to you.

Dissapeara and I take turns washing the bathroom and vacuuming the top floors cause its carpeted on alternate weekends. This has changed now seeing that she hates vacuuming and I hate washing the bathroom. So now she does the bathroom every weekend and I vacuums.

 

The downstairs floors is not carpeted. So on alternate week, either on Weds or Thurs, Dissapeara and I take turns moping and le Fucktard does it over the weekend. Cause over here we wear shoes inside the house and the floor get dirty real fast. So the floors get done twice a week. Supposably.

 

The kitchen, well its understandable that you should clean up after yourself after you use it. Wipe the hot plate, the counters, the microwave, what not.

 

We have a lawn. Le Fucktard supposed to mow it once it gets unruly.

 

 

So basically those are the rules, in a nutshell.      

 

Last Sunday, while I was doing the laundry, I noticed that le Fucktard was in the kitchen making sandwiches. Fine, then about an hour later after I’m done hanging up my clothes I noticed that he did not clean up after himself in the kitchen. There are bread crumbs on the counter and unwashed dishes in the sink. Fine, I was feeling charitable so I wiped the counter and did the dishes. Sometimes this happened. People are late for class and then all kinds of shit happen and did not clean after themselves. After I’ve cleaned up after that asshole, then only I realise that it was Sunday. And there’s no class on Sunday.

 

Fine, shit happens.

 

Then same shit happened on Monday and I’m like…okay. Interesting. Then on Tuesday the dishes piled up. I asked Dissapeara and she said it wasn’t hers. And then microwave dinner boxes started turning up all over the kitchen counters. Le Fucktard didn’t even bother to fucking throws it into the bin. See, after the whole fish-incident…I have stopped buying TV dinners and now I just cooked for myself. Plus those things taste like crap. Dissapeara cook for herself too and the only one who eat that shit is him. See now I am getting pissed but I have not bumped into him and I’m like “Maybe he has exam and is just stressed out. Maybe his mom is sick. Maybe maybe maybe….” Then this morning I went downstairs for breakfast and lo and behold what should greets me in the morning but his leftover TV lasagne on the kitchen counter and apparently a bunch of ants have made their home there overnight. No seriously, imagined lasagne that was left overnight. And then ants swarming all over it. It was disgusting. I could clean it, I could but I just pour myself a glass of orange juice and drink it while watching the ants have a mighty feast over that lasagne.

Then I washed my glass, went upstairs and knocked on his bedroom’s door.

Die stupid racist fuck! Die!

 

 

It was about 9 in the morning. I woke him up cause I could hear him grumbling as he gets up and walk towards the door. The fact that I woke him up made me happy.

 

 

 The moment he opened the door I was all smiles.

 

“Hey Chris*, did  I woke you up?”

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Good. We need to talk.”

 

“Bout what?”

 

“Are you okay? Are you sick or something? Do you have an exam that you are stressed about round the corner?”

 

“No, why?”

 

“Cause I thought that might be the reason why you have not been pulling your weight around here. The reason why you haven’t done the dishes or clean up after yourself in the kitchen.”

 

“No I just don’t want too.”

 

Le Fucktard totally said that.

 

“Oh, and why is that?”

 

“Cause Tanya* haven’t done the floors.”

 

Seriously, he said that.

 

“She done the floors yesterday.”

 

“Yeah but I told her to do it before and she didn’t and I won’t do my dishes because of that.”

 

See what I have noticed that le Fucktard is a racist bully that thinks he’s better then Dissapeara and I just because he is white. The thing with Dissapeara is that she doesn’t fight him back so he walked all over her and make her do shit.

 

“So how does that make sense? She doesn’t do the floors and then you don’t do the dishes and we all live happily ever after? See Chris, the lawn is getting unruly and one of these days snakes are going to move in and call it their home cause you haven’t mow it. But you don’t hear me or Tanya making noise about it or see us not cleaning up after ourselves and leaving the kitchen in the disgusting mess that it is just cause you don’t pull your weight around here.”

 

He just shrugged.

 

“Listen we are all busy here. Tanya works. I have assignments, just because we can’t do the house chores on time doesn’t mean we are not going to do it. We do it. We are all adults here, not a bunch of 12 year olds playing the blaming game. Seeing that you just woke up you wouldn’t know that a whole bunch of ants are downstairs in the kitchen, having a feast with the lasagne you did not clean up last night. Now you see, I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like it either.”

 

“Then why do you do it?”

 

“Cause Tanya….”

 

“No. This is not about Tanya. This is not about her. This is us talking now. This is about you being immature and trying to put the blame on someone else when you are the one not pulling you weight around here. When I decided to move in here, I was led to believe that this was going to be a clean house. That people actually respects each other in this house. And quite frankly, with the way you have been acting I feel that I was lied to. By you. And I don’t like being lied to.”

 

“No CD, why don’t we talk about this later. When all of us are home, when Tanya is home.”

 

“Good. Tonight then.”

 

I did not yelled when I talk to him. I was calm, I spoke slowly and I did not once broke eye contact. Fucker. After that I went out. Wah I am damn pissed off okay. There are so much shit I hate about him. He is very condescending towards me. He thinks just cause he is white he is better then me. Fuck that shit. I let it go for a while but the ants were the last straw. Fuck that. Tonight I’m gonna say it all to his face. When I got home bout an hour ago, the kitchen was clean though. So I’m happy bout that.

 

Tanya’s home now. I asked her in the kitchen just now if she wanna have the talk with Chris. She said she didn’t’ want too. She wants to go out with her boyfriend. The woman doesn’t like confrontations. I thrive on it. I’m waiting for her to leave the house and then I’m gonna call Chris and we gonna have our “talk”.

 

Stupid fucking asshole.

Damn, dirty fish thief

Man it’s been a week since my last update. I am a really horrible blogger these days. I am up to my eyeballs with readings and assignments. The fuck man, Australia is crazy. I thought the workload was a bitch back in HELP but daaaaayum, HELP was chicken shit compared to this. Even as I am typing this I have an assignment due tomorrow. I haven’t even begun typing it out but I have done the research. So after typing this post I am gonna procrastinate some more by tidying my room and blog surfing. Cause that’s how I roll.

 

 

Mr. Clean irritates me. Well not constantly but he’s such a moody weirdo that it is fucking irritating. Have you met someone whose face seems it’s set in concrete and that it seems impossible for them to smile? That’s him. Sourpuss McGrumpy Face. It’s like living with Grumpy from the Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Only he is not a dwarf. If he is I would have kicked him down the stairs long time ago. And then go down the stairs and kick him some more just for the hell of it.

 

 

He’s not a bad guy. Just too damn serious. It’s like he sucks out the mood of the room everytime he comes in. Before he arrives it’s like rainbows and birds chipping in the distance and Clive Owen were just about to leave his wife for me…but when he does arrive its like Death! Gloom!! War!! Completely suck the life out of everything. If he wasn’t studying to become a lawyer, he could have a steady job being one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The fifth one that makes everyone else as gloomy as he is.

 

 

But the whole reason of this post is basically cause I am pissed.

 

 

Dude ate my fish. I bought one of those microwave dinner thingy right. Fish fillet thingy. Undeniably it will taste like crap but I am in no mood to cook tonight. I had 4 classes today, that’s 8 hours of class and then I stayed back for 3 more hours to do research at the library. I thought hey when I get home I’m just gonna eat that and then do my assignment and go to sleep. Thursday is a looong day for me. When I came home, my fish fillet was missing from the freezer. It was missing. The fuck? It couldn’t be my other housemate cause she’s vegetarian. It has to be him. So I went and knocked on his door and asked him about it.

 

 

He looked guilty as fuck.

 

 

“Ouuuu I did not know it was yours. I thought it was mine but I couldn’t remember buying that particular brand.”

 

“It’s mine. I have the receipt.”

 

“Oh wow. Oooohh I get you a new one when I go do my groceries shopping next time.”

 

“Sure. I guess I’ll just have apples for dinner tonight.” And then I walked away.

Bastard didn’t even said he was sorry. I didn’t eat apples for dinner though. I was just being dramatic and I want him to feel really guilty. Had instant noodles instead thanks to that fish thieving bastard.

 

 

Now I know this is not a big deal. And he is going to replace it. I know. But I had a long day, I am sick and tired of instant noodles and fried rice and I was looking forward to that completely unhealthy microwave dinner. Just damn irritating you know.

 

 

Update:

 

Mr. Clean just knocked on my door. He asked if I want a ride to uni tomorrow cause he got a car. He never asked me that. I think this is some sort of apology in his big shot law student vocab. I said no. Feel guilty you fish thieving bastard.

 

 

Update 2:

 

I hope he gets food poisoning tonight. Bastard.

 

No, I will not chill.

So anyways, the reason why I am not updating regularly anymore is cause I am worried sick here regarding my accommodations in Aussie. Last Friday I received an email from the uni stating that I do not get an on-campus room so ever since then I have been looking for off-campus accommodations. The moment I received that email was the moment when the thought of being homeless stop being funny and ridiculous, and begun to become terrifying. So excuse me, but my mind is preoccupied these days with something more important.

 

However I will take this time to stop obsessing about the state of my homeless-ness and take a break from refreshing my inbox to check if anyone have email me a reply regarding my off-campus accommodation enquiries and address something that have been pissing me off. You know how you tell someone your problem and then you expect them to tell you something soothing or maybe an advice of maybe just you know, be there for you. They don’t have to actually do anything but be kind and considerate. This is what people do. This is why people have friends or significant other, for the comfort and security.

 

One of the most annoying shit to me is that when you tell people your problem and they reply it with this: “Chill chill.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I know those are just words, but they are the most fucking annoying words ever. I can’t fucking stand it. I think it is very rude and it’s pissing me off.

 

I dunno about you, but when I tell someone of my problems, the last shit I wanna hear is “Chill chill”. I know what you mean is “Relax”,  but why can’t you say that? By using that term you made my problem insignificant, something that is not worth your time, something you brush off because it is just some rantings by an idiot. If what you mean is relax, then fucking say relax. By saying “Chill chill”, I am not going to chill, I am going to go off even more. Where the fuck is your sensitivity? Who the fuck are you to belittle my troubles?

 

I would understand if you say “Relax, breathe.” I would, but really “Chill chill”? Seriously, I deserve better. Or maybe it’s just me. I am a Drama Queen and I am overly sensitive these days. However I still think that when I am crying and asking your support as a friend, you could have done more...said something else. You could done more then brushing it off as something insignificant. You could have said something better then “Chill chill.” 

You could have actually cared.

The Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List: Part 3

Okay this post has been a long time coming. I realise that my ass will get flame after this but then you know, it’s not like having haters on this blog is anything new. Haters on Dramatic Musing is like the sun on a bright shining day. They keep things spicy here and over time I have come to rely on them for my perpetual craving for drama. Yes….. haters complete me in ways no lover ever could.

 

And for that, I thank you.

 

Anyways, I dunno bout you guys but as much as I am into this whole blogging thing right, there are just some shit out there that bugs the fuck out of me. Just some random things regarding the blogging world so let me just list them out for you. In no chronological order:

 

1) Tedious bloggers pissed the fuck out of me. You know those kinds, the ones that have to give you a play by play of their whole life. Every, mundane, minute details have to be described and exploited. Dunno what I’m talking about, let me give you some examples:

 

 

“Today I went shopping. I drove there in my silver Volvo. Eric came with me. He sat in the passenger seat next to me. He wore a red hoodie. I told him it makes him look gay. I laughed. Haha.”

 

“Oh today I woke up. Then I went to the bathroom. Then I took a dump. I wiped my ass with recycled tissue paper. It was pink in colour. I think it is pretty. Haha.”

 

FYI, no one wants to know about every little mundane shit that goes on in your insignificant little life. Really. Contrary to your singulary belief, you are not as fascinating as you thought. If you want to write shit like that out, get a damn diary. Not a goddamn blog. Reading your blog is so fucking boring that upon setting my eyes on it, watching paint dry and grass grow seem utterly attractive to me.

 

2) Okay now I understand that you love yourself. That you are in fact, the shiznit. That you are the most beautiful, the most drop dead gorgeous human being that has ever walked God’s green earth. See, I understand that. I understand that some amount of self love is needed for a healthy self esteem.

 

See I know I am not the most gorgeous woman around. I know that. But sometimes, on good days I look into the mirror and I go “Daaaammmnnnnn giiiirrrrrlll. You are fiiiinnneeee. Now shake that ass baby, shake that ass. Cause you are fiiiiinnnnneeee.” Moments like this would not be complete if I do not pull some Tyra Banks-es poses in the mirror. It’s fun. It keeps me happy. Keeps my self esteem healthy as well. But when I am overcome by moments of narcissism like this, I do not however take 3000 pictures of me and paste it all over my goddamn blog.

 

Yes, yes ...we know you think you’re gorgeous. We know. Unfortunately we do not share the sentiment. But really huney, no one wants to see you in 1700 different posses and faces in the same outfit. Also you know that shit that you do when clearly you are taking a pic of yourself and not looking into the camera, yeah that shit is lame. It does not make you look mysterious. It just heightened your douchebag factor.

 

3) See I have crappy taste in music. So crappy that whenever I tell people of my favourite artists, people visibly cringe in horror of it all. I listen to shallow pop music and I am not ashamed to admit it. Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Kelly Clarkson, Beyonce and so on and so forth are the singers that are on constant reply on my mp3. I know a lot of people think of pop music as crappy. So much so, that a friend once told me; “When we meet my other friends, please don’t tell them that you listen to Britney and those other crappy music cause then I am forced to abandon this friendship of ours.” It gets to that point okay.

 

So I understand completely on how other people do not like my type of music. And I respect that. I do not shove it into their ears and I do not force them to like it. I like what I like and vice versa which brings us to that fucking, fucking annoying instant-play-music-widget fuckery.

 

There are many blogs out there who have music widgets that start playing the moment a reader visits their blog. Let me just point out that those things are the most ridiculously annoying shit I have ever come across. Have it ever occurred to you that the rest of the damn population do not share the same taste in music as you do? Have it ever occurred to you that they might find the music that you oh so love and adore worst then the sound of a cat makes during giving birth? Have it occurred to you that your reader might be listening to their own music, and have no wish whatsoever to listen to your lame ass music while blog surfing? Get rid of that shit.

 

When I listen to Britney, I do not like to be interrupted.

 

4) I have issues with advertisings on blogs. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind if you have like only one of those widgets things. Just one. Big one, small one…whatever you know. In fact whenever I go to any blogs that have advertising I make a point of clicking on that ad. Why not? Help out a fellow blogger you know...

What bugs the fuck out of me is when there are multiple ads crisscrossing on the page. I can’t fucking stand that shit. Or that shit when you move the cursor around and the ad follows the movement of your cursor. That shit is soooo fucking annoying okay. Stop it.

 

Your blog is nothing without your readers. Stop shoving shit into their faces. They come there to read what you write and what you think. Appreciate that. Be grateful. Do not fucking advertise like an asshole just cause you are greedy little piece of shit. Keep it to limited advertising and put that shit at a corner of your page. Not all over it. Have some respect for your readers and in turn they would respect you too.

 

 

5) “Hello. You have a nice blog. Link me.”

 

Really asshole, really?

 

This shit bugs me in more ways then the others could. I hate this okay. I can’t even describe to you how much I hate it. I hate it so much that I kinda wanna buy me a shotgun and kill all the motherfuckers that come my way and leave this in the comment box.

 

It’s soooo undignified. Listen, I linked to blogs that I like. Blogs that in some ways amuses me. If these bloggers feel like they wanna link me then they can go ahead and do it, if they don’t then no big whoop. Just because you linked my ass doesn’t mean I want to link yours mmmkay? Why do you need to come to my blog and do that shit? I know it sounds like nothing to the rest of you but I think these people who do these are like the hobos of the blogging world. The ones that stand at street corners asking for a buck. Only these ones troll the comment box asking people to link their boring ass when I have no wish to do so.

Write more interesting shit. Maybe then people would link you without you having to whore yourself out. Was that too harsh? Well, excuuuuuusssse me for not sugarcoating that for you. I ain't Mary Poppins, asshole.

 

Okay…that’s it. I got that out of my chest. Now tell the Constantly Dramatic One of your blogging pet peeves. Or flame my ass. Or defend your case. Or stop reading my blog all together. Doesn’t matter really. Unlike those douchebags that constantly put up pics of themselves, I am not here for the….what do you call it…"popularity”. I’m here strictly for the bitching.

Of things that are pissing me off during the finals: Part 3

Listen you worthless piece of shit, I do not know which country you are from but I’m from Malaysia. And in this country, most of us drive like fiends from Hell. So riddle me this asswipe, why the hell are you driving like a pussy when you’re in the fast lane? Seriously.


I understand that there is a speed limit. Yes I know, 110km/j on the fucking highway. But here’s the deal, everyone who drives on the fastlane, none of us abide by that. None of us. Personally the slowest I ever been- when the fucking road is relatively empty- is 160km/j. So again, why in the fucking blue hell is your slow ass on the fastlane? My car is red in colour bitch. When my Dad bought it for me, it says there “Extreme red”. Don’t tell me your eyes can’t see my “extreme red” car from miles away going 180? Can’t you move your ass fast enough for me to get through? If you really feel like you need to drive like a fucking pussy, then please direct your slow ass to the slow lane. Not the fast lane.



I have an exam to get too. Now the fact that my paper starts at 4pm and I left my house at 3.30pm when I live about 40km away from college is a non-issue. What is an issue here is that your drive like a pussy. People have places to get too, things to meet, people to do…or did I get that wrong…but the fact that mattered is, your pussy driving is in the way. If you can’t locate the fucking acceleration pedal in your motherfucking car why in the fucking blue hell are you on the fast lane?



Now, see I don’t like tailgating people. I heard in the radio they say that that shit is actually road bullying. And bullying is not cool under any circumstance. But when you are going what, 90km/j on the motherfucking fast lane and not moving your ass fast enough for me get through, it pisses me off. And on the road, I get piss off really fast. I’m sorry if I scared you when I tailgated your ass for maybe 12kms even when you’ve already switched lane. You fucking deserve it. If your ass have no bizniz on the fastlane, then don’t get on it on the first place.



Thanks to your pussy driving, I was 5 mins late for my paper. If I ever see you on the road again- I will end you bitch.


***

Whenever a guy hits on me, I make sure that I am always pleasant and never rude. I understand that it takes a lot of guts for a guy to come up and talk to a chick. Especially ones that have a default-bitch-face like mine. I can never go up to a guy and ask him out because I do not have the balls for it. Literally and figuratively speaking. So when a guy hits on me, I try to make it pleasant for the both of us but will still definitely drive the point home that: “Yes, I am single” but “No, I am not available.”

It gets to me when these dudes just do not fucking get it. Hey asshole, just because I was pleasant to you doesn’t mean I want to suck your dick tonight mmmkay? It just means that I am considerate. Just because I do not tell you to fuck off and die doesn’t mean you should pressure me for my fucking phone number. I do not want to give it to you. You are an asshole. Harassing me will not make me fall madly and deeply in love with you.




Thank you so much for the douchebaggery you inflicted on me. I now have lost all faith in men and will now join the Carpet Munchers team.

***

I have disabled my “Add as Friend” button on Facebook. I cannot fucking take it anymore. I cannot take it when college freshmen and juniors hit me up over FB just randomly wants to add me as friend. Listen, some people who live in the virtual world, yeah those people who wants “popularity”, yeah those bitches are the ones with 100, 000++ friends. I am not those people. I only add people whom I know and like. The people I add are actually, shockingly, my friends. People I actually have some contact with, have a decent conversation with.


Me telling you to shut the fuck up in class because I was trying to sleep does not make a proper conversation. Me telling you to get out of my way, do not make us friends. We sharing one class, when I don’t even notice that we were in fact- sharing a class - does not make us friends. Stop trying to add me. I will not be part of your quest to achieve online immortality.



I now have disabled my “Add as Friend” button. I also deleted 77 people off my FB, ones that I have been arsed into adding. If you’re not my friend, or frenemy, I have no interest whatsoever in getting up to date with your life.

Now, step away from the computer and go live your life in the real world.

***

Also, can someone explains what fuckkery is this?




It keeps on popping out now and then. Pissing me off. Why is it doing that though?




Footnotes:

For part 1 of things that are pissing me off during the finals: click this.

For part 2: click this.

This is not over you filthy Pizza Hut bastards!!!

Dude, I totally threw a bitch fit at Pizza Hut just now. Well not really a bitch fit....more like a righteous tirade. A really pissed off and loud righteous tirade. Which by the way……. totally scared the crap out of Farid.








Okay let me run this scene by you and see if you don't get pissed off too. You are with your good friend having a late lunch at Pizza Hut, which by the way you have indignantly championed from all your friends saying that Pizza Hut's pizza totally taste much better then Domino's. Okay so you are sitting there, munching on your second piece of personal pan pizza, discussing current events, resident college bitches and the perpetual never ending topic: the size of your ass when all of a sudden - a fucking cockroach appeared from the underside of the table, crawled all over the table near your plate that contained your damn food and then disappeared to the underside of the table again. Here's a multi choice answer:





a) Scream, push your chair back and then fall on your ass.


b) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief but do nothing.


c) Stare at the cockroach in utter disbelief, make your guy friend capture it by using a tissue, and then make a waiter call the manager so that you can give the manager a piece of your mind.








I picked option C.








Unlike most of the female population, the Constantly Dramatic One is not afraid of cockroaches. I am however, is shit scared of cicak. Cicaks are fucking creepy okay. But I do know that cockroaches are filthy and they bring on diseases. And I just ate from a table that as it turns out, the oh-so-accommodating pit stop of a cockroach. Holy Mother of all that is Pure and True, if I could have open a can of whoop ass on someone right there and then, I totally would. The manager came to me with an attitude. She was all gangsta when she looked at me and asked "Yes?".......Bitch, you do not throw fuel to the fire. Bad move bitch, bad move.








"I just found a cockroach on the table here. Where I am eating. A cockroach! What kind of establishment are you running here when people come here to eat and you serve cockroaches along with the food?"





"Ohhh we just had pest control last Friday.............."








"It doesn’t matter whether or not you had pest control last Friday or yesterday or the month before this. That is a non-issue. What is an issue here is that while I am eating here I found a cockroach crawling around next to my plate. *Lipas tau tak? Lipas. Atas meja.* Do you expect me to sit here and eat your food still?"

*A cockroach you know? A cockroach. On the table.








"Oh we always have a cockroach problem. *But sekarang dah less dah.....*"
*But now it have lessen....*







"Oh is that supposed to make me feel better? Is the fact that last time you had more cockroaches attacking your customers and now you only have one is a victory? Am I supposed to rejoice at that? Seriously, what kind of show are you running here? *Ini kat depan dah ada lipas. Kalau I pergi to your kitchen, what will I find there? Perkampungan lipas dan tikus?* Is that the cleanliness level of your establishment? Eh when I come here I expect a certain level of professionalism and cleanliness. **Kalau I nak makan kat tempat kotor-kotor I pergi makan kat mamak tepi jalan tu. Kereta lalu-lalu, berhabuk sana sini tapi tak per.** Cause that's how much I pay for it. Here I come and I pay your service tax and all that and this is the bullshit I have to deal with?"

*If you have cockroaches at the front of your restaurant, then what do you have in your kitchen? A mini city for cockroaches and rats?*

**If I want to eat at a dirty place, I go to a mamak by the roadside. The food will be all dusty but it's okay because that is what expected of mamak and that is how much I pay for it.**

By this time she looked like she was on the verge of crying. I feel kinda bad but no matter how bad I felt it doesn’t change the fact there was a disease carrying cockroach near my food. Shit son, what if I have rabies now?








"What happens now if I get sick from eating your food? If my friend gets sick? Who is going to foot the bill for our medical fees? You? Your pest control people?"








She just kept quite. On hindsight, what else can she do? I wasn’t screaming but I spoke loudly. I made sure that the whole restaurant can hear the fact that there was a cockroach on my table. Near my fucking food. I am still so pissed off.








"So what are you going to do now?"








"Well what do you want?"








"I do not want to pay for any of these, I will not pay for my food and neither will my friend. When we came in we expected to eat pizza, not some cockroach infested tasty treat. Also do you have a business card? I want your business card if not you write out your name and give it to me. If you think you can serve people food in this kind of place where cockroaches live happily ever after then you are wrong. I am going to report about this. This is not over."








"Miss, building ni memang ada banyak lipas."
*Miss, this building is infested with cockroaches.*







"That's not an issue. *I pergi makan kat Subway like 3 doors away and takder pun lipas. I pergi minum kat Starbucks, takde pun lipas. I pergi makan kat Ali Maju, mamak tau mamak, takder pun I kena attack dengan lipas. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. Ni tempat makan, bukan printers suratkhabar.*"
*I didn't find any cockroaches when I go to eat at Subway which is 3 doors down from here. I don't see any cockroaches when I have a drink in Starbucks. When I go to Ali Maju, which is a mamak establishment, I don't get attacked by cockroaches. So don't blame the building for your shortcomings. This is a restaurant, not a printers.*







I wanted to go on and on but Farid was staring at me from across the table looking on the verge of crapping his pants. (No dude, you did.) So I just stood up and left. I think if stayed longer I would have cut a bitch. Seriously. Fucker!!! What if I have rabies now? Do cockroaches carry rabies? Fuck. What do they carry? I should Google this up. What if Farid and I are infected with it? Whatever it is that they are carrying? What if the disease is spread by saliva? Like rabies? What if everyone we kiss and share a drink with is infected? And those people will infect other people and other people and other people...... In like a week or less there could be an outbreak of cockroach-something disease all over KL!! In a month- the world!








It'll be like the fucking Mad Cow disease all over again. But it'll be worst cause when this story hit the news, the news anchors are going to go "The original deadly disease carriers have been traced and that trail goes back to Malaysia. We have been notified that the original carriers were Farid.A and the Constantly Dramatic One, who ate at a cockroach infested Pizza Hut establishment. Sad to say however that these two individuals who were the original carriers of this deadly disease are already deceased."








WTF?!! I don’t want to be remembered as a plague-carrying-originator. This is not fair!! When I die, people should remember me as the object of Clive Owen's desire. They should remember me for my ass the size of galaxy. They should remember me for my superior bitching skillz. But most of all they should remember me for the ossumness that I am. Not as the cause of a plague bitches!








This is bullshit.








I will lodge a complaint at the Consumer Rights and Health Ministry or whatever. I need to find where exactly I can complain at. And when I do, I will cc. that to The Star, Utusan Melayu and all other newspapers. Take that you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! Take that. If I am going down as the original carrier of a plague-later-to-be-named then I am taking you down with me you filthy Pizza Hut bastards! I am not going down without a fight.








......Damn, I totally need to go to the family GP tomorrow. I need to check if I have rabies. Or whatever it is that will make me go down in medical books as the cause of a plague that wipe out a shitload of people.


Damn Pizza Hut bastards.

The Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List: Part 2

Today on the second installment of "The Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List", I would like to bitch about......pronunciations. Yes, that's right. Pronunciations. But before that a little introduction first.

This is the section on Dramatic Musings in which I just wanna bitch in, okay? Just let me be. Most people think I have unresolved anger issues. Most people think that my unresolved issues exhibits itself especially when I'm behind the steering wheel. Most people think I should deal with whatever it is that's making me angry. To most people, this is what I say:

Now I'm no grammar Nazi like some people, nor am I a language elitist but there are some shit that need to be pronounced properly. Such as names. My name is the Constantly Dramatic One. I expect you to pronounce it as the Con-stant-ly Dra-ma-tic One. Okay? Such as you expect other people to pronounce your name pro-per-ly.

I notice lately and by lately I mean on TV that some TV personalities like to pronounce Malaysia as "Maleeeeziaaaaahh". Bitch, wtf? Listen, I understand that you think that you are cool, that you are in fact on TV after all and I'm not. Okay, fine, whatever. But really the fact that you are so inherently Malay and so inherently Malaysian and I know bitch, I know you grew up in Sungai Petani, Kedah* gives you no fucking excuse whatsoever to mispronounce the name of our motherland.

It's Ma-lay-sia you little skank whore. Not Ma-leeeee-zi-aaaaahhh. What the fuck is Maleeeeezzziaaaahhh anyways? Sounds like a fucking venereal disease. Do you have it bitch? That's why you find the need to educate the public about it? I'm sorry that you have "Maleeeezzzziaaaahhh" on your vagina now, but that's not my fault nor it is the country's. It is yours.

By affecting yourself with what clearly is a damn stupid accent does not up your cool factor. It makes you look like an affected, wannabe, venereal-disease-having-skank-whore. Just let it be. If you weren't born in the UK, why the hell do you find the need to speak like you are? You are not Bristish, you are from Sungai Petani. Embrace your roots. Be proud of it. Don't try to cover it with your idiotic, affected accent.

So the next time you feel the need to speak out loud the name of our motherland, please acknowledge its pronunciation and adhere by it. If your name is Dipship, you wouldn't want people to call you Asswipe now do you?

It's only common courtesy.

*******************************
Footnotes.

1) The use of "Sungai Petani, Kedah" is just to drive home a point. She is not from Sungai Petani. I do not know where she if from but I'm sure it is not from the UK. However, I am just trying to make a point here.

2) For part one of "the Constantly Dramatic One's Shit List" go here.

3) To give me a piece of your mind, please key in GO-FUCK-YOURSELF on your mobile phone.

That would be all. Thank you for your attention.

An open letter to my fellow Malaysians....

Dear Malaysian,







Listen, I need to talk to you guys. First of all, hello. How are you? Have you had your dinner yet? How's the family? Good? Oh good then. I'm glad that every thing's going great for you guys. Me? Oh I'm swell. Well as swell as I can get anyways.....given the fact that I'm buried under shitload of assignments these days. But such is a student's life.







Right, where was I? Oh have I ever mentioned that I like being Malaysian? I dunno bout you guys, but by God I do indeed love it. I love being in such a multicultural environment in which we either love each other or we tolerate each other's differences, and then we bitch about it behind each other's back. I love our "Malaysian time". Yes, it gives way to being tardy. Not that it's a good thing mind you, but sometimes you just gotta be tardy. And oh the happiness and joy that we derive from our foods collectively. Our nasi lemak, our rendang, our ketupat. Oh the joy we get from stuffing those into our mouths.....indescribable. Outsiders will never understand our fascination with our nasi lemak and rendang but it doesn't matter. We Malaysians have found a spot of heaven, and it's on that plate of nasi lemak. I find it fascinating how we all can sit at the mamak hours on end ordering teh tariks, one after the other and talking shit bout the government but yet doing nothing bout it. Other than giving our esteemed favourite mamak more money for our never ending craving for teh tariks. Yes, yes, I do indeed love being Malaysian. And I love you too, fellow Malaysians.







But amidst all this love and camaraderie I just need to iron out a problem I'm having with you guys. I mean, it's kinda a biggie. I do hope it's not offensive but I just need to ask this: Why the fuck are you guys so fucking nosy? Honest to God? Whhhhyyy?!!!











I'm talking about this insatiable need to be nosy assholes on the road. Why is it that every time there is a fucking accident on the motherfucking road, you people found the need to slow the fuck down so that you can all nosily, drive your car sllooooooooooowwwwwlllly by the accident scene so that you'll can see what's goin on? Why is there a need to be this fucking nosy? I mean, you fuckers, I was stuck for 2 fucking hours today on the fucking highway just because some truck overturned.





A truck overturned. It just fucking overturned.





Nothing else happened. The driver did not die, nobody was injured and oh nothing blew up. It just fucking overturned. If Miss Universe was parading naked in the middle of the street and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. If there was somehow a mortal combat between Optimus Prime and Superman going on the fucking highway and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. I fucking get it. But this is just a fucking overturned truck!!!! What kind of bleak, shallow, existence do you bitches live that the sight of an overturned truck would excite you so much that you found the need to slow the fuck down hence causing a bigass traffic jam, getting me stuck in it for 2 whole hours?







And no bitches, it did not help that I needed to pee really badly and it was pouring outside. Yes, it was cold. It was freezing in my car even without the AC on. I fucking needed to pee. I mean, it's not like I'm a guy okay. I don't have a penis. If I have one, I would have whip "little CD" out and pee in a bottle. But I don't have a "little CD". I cannot fucking pee in a bottle. I can't deny that at one point that I really did think of leaving my car and go in search for a bush or something. I'll be like "Hey y'all! Listen up, I'm just gonna leave my car here and go to that bush over there and do my thang okay. I mean it's not like you guys are going anywhere anyways.". It was tempting. I can assure you that.








Dante wrote that the final circle of hell is when you are buried in the icy grave of your own tears. Clearly, Dante have never been stuck in a traffic jam for 2 fucking hours with a full bladder.








Also, assholes.......uuuhhh...... I mean Malaysians, we are back to the nosy issue here. Listen, what I do within the vicinity of my car is none of your concern. So what if I like to blast Kelly Clarkson's "Walk Away"........and then pretend to be Kelly Clarkson in my car? Albeit, a more ossum version of her. Huh? What if I like to do that? It keeps me zen. It keeps me from going crazy. It keeps me from running out from my car like a crazy bitch to find the nearest bush. Let me be. In my car, I am Kelly Clarkson. Also fuckface in the white Honda Jazz next to me, I saw you taking a video of me while I am in my intense rendition of "Since You've Been Gone". I saw you fuckface, eventhough you tried hiding your phone from me.





I. Saw. You.





I got your car plate number. If I find out that there is a video of me, doing my batshit crazy rendition of "Since You've Been Gone", in my car, on the net, I will track you down like the dog that you are. I will kidnap each one of your family, and then feed them to crocodiles while you watch. I will tape your eyelids open (a'la A Clockwork Orange), so that you cannot not look as your 76 year old grandma is being eaten alive by a particularly famished crocodile. I will not end you bitch, no, I will smash both of your kneecaps and your knuckles with a sledgehammer, Vegas style, and let your crawl away to your worthless freedom. Go on, live your life with the excruciating pain of broken kneecaps and knuckles and the memory of your whole family being eaten alive by crocodiles. That will teach you for videotaping me when I'm pulling a Kelly Clarkson in my car.

I'm onto you, white-Honda Jazz-fuckface. I'm onto you.

So yes, that is all. I hope you, my fellow Malaysians have a lovely rest of the evening. I do adore you and value your companionship........ when you are not being nosy fuckers that is. Except for that one Malaysian guy. The one who videotaped me. Yeah, this is a little advice from me to you: Ship your whole family to Mongolia, while you still have the chance to do it.








hugs, kisses, your fellow Malaysian,


the Constantly Dramatic One