Macau, finally!

I reached the hotel at about 6.15 pm and as welcoming and cruelly tempting as my bed was, I had to resist the urge and quickly head back to the lobby and meet the rest of my travel companions for dinner. Sofitel at Pointe 16 was a blessing in many ways – putting aside their ‘luxury hotel’ status, beds that bring out the laziness in you, Russian pole dancers and amazing buffet selection for breakfast, (Hah! Bacon, pork sausages, pancakes etc.) it was more importantly walking distance from well… almost anywhere.

For dinner, we walked for about ten minutes to a place called ‘Restaurante Escada’, renown for their Portuguese cuisine. There it lay, looking cosy and inviting by an alley with hospitable waitresses ushering us in. What followed was an ecstatic dinner experience comprising of crabs, squid, king prawns, mussels and other sea-dwelling goodies. All were washed down by the famous Portuguese Sangria, and just as I couldn’t imagine stuffing anything else down our throats came dessert. Not before me walking outside to the restaurant’s balcony, peeping down to see three hot Macanese women having an innocent gossip session on a bench. Three girls, alone, on a bench, in a deserted lane. Yes, Macau was proving to be an excellent destination choice indeed. Next, I notice some movement in the alley below me and I see a couple eating each others faces out down there, and I thought to myself, ‘Heyyy! Free show!’ I wasn’t ready for dessert yet anyway. Eventually it got too disgusting even for my liking and I headed back into the restaurant.

Resisting the selection of custards, creams and cakes proved to be near impossible, so I indulged relentlessly in them and proceeded with a walking tour of Senado Square. A place which I just could not get enough of what with its dazzling lights, fountains, open-air mall concept, boutique-filled alleys and lots and lots of good, street food! Which in my dictionary, directly translates to PORK!

Picture this, a lane full of pork, cooked in every style possible from spicy to honey, from roasted to grilled and as you pass by each shop, they grab a scissors – I may have flinched for the first few times, and they cut off a slice and let you try some of their proudly made pork slices. After 7 shops, I had to reluctantly refuse their generous offerings due to time constraints, my bloated tummy and the possible risk of Senado Square running out of pork.

Each lane or alley has its name imprinted on the wall in Cantonese and Portuguese. That added to the whole colonial feel of the place and also made me realise the possibility of people getting lost in that maze of pork, boutiques and gold shops rather often. After what had already been a massive meal, I ate more. This time it was some form of Tau Foo Fa like thing, only instead of soy, milk was the active ingredient – a must try for all you lactose intolerant people out there. You get to choose between toppings of ginger, red bean and well, I don’t read nor speak Cantonese, so just go do your research, will ya? There were LOADS to choose from.

After I pigged out (an activity that I took part in almost everyday while I was in Macau), me and the three other Malaysian media fellas and the MGTO rep headed back to the hotel. Ah, at long last. I couldn’t wait to sink in that comfy, king-sized bed, switch on that flat-screen LCD and get some rest. It was the first night, and I knew if I were to survive the following day’s agenda which involved touring around Macau, I could not afford to allow my male hormones to take over. So I took a quick peek at the dancers in the hotel’s bar for a while, made a mental note on what time they performed daily, did a silent prayer thanking Sanders, checked out what games the casino there had to offer then called it a night.


Not before doing what most healthy males out there practise in an almost ritualistic like manner - watch a little Maria Ozawa getting it on in a bathroom. Thank you Eskimotube! What? She IS superbly hot. Ah, don’t you gimme that look! Really… Don’t. Read on to find out why. (evil grin)

Oh no, he didn't! Oh yes, I did!

Teh Airport

After returning from my BMW Efficient Dynamics trip, which in short involved me flying down to Kuala Terengganu, spending the night at Ri-Yaz, driving the 320d to Port Dickson, spending the night at Thistle, driving the 520d to Penang, getting a massage and flying back to KL. After which, I fell horribly ill after a very, very long time. It could’ve been all that travelling, or the excessive amounts of champagne, whiskey, beers, cheese and meat drenched in grease. Either way, I came back ass-faced, and had a week to recover before my Macau trip. I spent my sickly days staying in bed and finishing up all 5 seasons of Supernatural. Eventually the day of the trip came and while I wasn’t fully recovered, I had no intentions on letting this trip pass me by! It was Macau for Sander’s sake!

Macau… From what I gathered, it was seemingly the Las Vegas of Asia, a place that was synonymous with casinos, gambling and other family attractions like strip bars, saunas, table top dancers and live shows… and that was pretty much it, really. I’m not one to lay judgements before the actual experience itself, so on I headed to Macau with the best set of mind frame any first-time traveller should possess – an open one. Along with what anyone travelling to Macau should bring along – shit loads of cash. It IS sin city, trust me.

If you don't get laid in Macau, drown yourself here

I called up a cab and made the necessary arrangements. The flight according to the Macau Government Tourism Office (MGTO) representative was at 1.30 p.m, so I left my house at around 11.15 or so. Unless I was travelling the Flintstone way or using my pet cow Jerky as a mode of transport, I knew there was ample time for me to reach, grab a coffee or something, check-in and board the plane. I was wrong. The cab came on time, sure. I reached the airport at 12, and I called the MGTO rep and was told to proceed to counter R35. There I was melting in my jacket, carrying a laptop and hand luggage while pulling a heavy bag behind me, looking for a non-existent check-in counter. I passed row A, B… all the way to J and that’s where it ended. Suddenly a dreadful wave of realisation hit me… I shakily searched for the sheet of paper containing my flight info and to my horror discovered I just had a _________ (insert Bimbo name. E.g. Paris Hilton) moment.

I named my pet Zebra, 'spot'


I was in the wrong fuckin’ airport. I was supposed to be in LCCT… I rushed three floors down, paid over 40 bucks for a cab and rushed over there. I reached at about 12.20 and as I reached the REAL counter… it was closed. Or there was a midget working behind there. The latter proved fictional. It really was closed. Finally someone saw me and came over.

Dude: “Where do you want to go sir?”
Me: “I’m here for the Macau flight at 1.30…”
Dude: “1.30? Uh… there is no flight at 1.30 sir. The flight is at 1 p.m.”
Me: (looks at the itinerary followed by shrinking of testicles)
Me: “Can I check in?”
Dude: (looks at watch)
Dude: “I’m sorry sir. You’ll have to go to the service counter at the end of this row.”
Me: (runs to the service counter in an almost Hindi-movie like scene)

There, I see this half-assed looking dude behind the counter, taking his sweet time, being the stereotypical local while there I stood, hungry, sweaty, and with my bladder being an ass of all times. Luckily there was this lady standing in front of me and I used my Moose charm on her, so she happily allowed me to go before her. In return for the favour, she gave me her number and address. No, I kid. She was old. But nice. No! Not nice physically, I mean… Moving on.
I reached the counter, and I was given a cock stare…

“You baru sampai?”
“Uh no. I was actually here at 10 a.m., but I thought I’d wait till the utmost last minute before checking in cause cheap thrills like those make my day,” was what I would’ve said if I had time… or if he’d actually understand that. So, instead I gave him a blatant “yea…” and I was told that I could no longer check in my huge ass of a bag.

He gave me the boarding pass and I ran like a… thing that runs fast… to Gate 11. I was panting, sweating and it was fuckin’ 12.43! That hoe that specialises in making the lives of latecomers like me was already announcing that passengers had to board the plane. Or else… She didn’t exactly add that part, but I was paranoid. To make matters worse, for the luggage check-in, I had a bunch of Indonesians in front of me. Yipee… That meant EXTRA thorough bag invading by the security officers, which meant more time wasted. They had bottles filled with weird pills, tubes and all that. I was panicking cause I too had lubes… I mean, some after-shave in tubes and whatnot in my bag. But heyyy, whaddya know? I wasn’t stopped! I continued my running to Gate 11, where that hoe was still with the “last call” crap. But you know what? I was there! I had effin’ made it!

*bag snaps* Okay… I was ALMOST there. Why of all times, must my feckin’ heavy, prehistoric luggage give way now?! Oh, cause it’s prehistoric that’s why. Thanks a lot for the bag, mum.
I eventually make my way on the plane, sweating, smelling and hungry as fuck! For three hours I had to endure my own bodily stench and the dude beside me either:

a.) passed out from it
b.) was really tired
c.) wanted the journey to end quick

But I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I made it! I was going to Macau, baybeh! And oh by the way, after all that rushing… the plane was delayed anyway. Why? Cause’ there were two more passengers who were late, and who did not take part in the airport triathlon like I did. Asswipes…

Forewarned about the harsh cold weather conditions during November, I arrived at the Macau International Airport prepared with jackets, sweaters and all those other forms of clothing that I usually wouldn’t be seen in unless you paid me lots of money. As I was checking in the Macau International Airport, I hand this lady my passport, all smiles, being all cheerful cause I was in a new place, doing my very best to shine with my ‘happy-tourist’ vibes… but she changed that. I handed her my passport, and see, the picture of me in my passport was that of me back when I had spiky hair. She looked up at me, grinning at her stupidly… and she pointed at the passport and said “Hair ah?” No, you slit-eyed hoe. That’s a porcupine. After much hair modelling and repositioning, she was finally convinced but not before I muttered “fuckin ridiculous” and gave her a dirty look. There, I felt better. Airports really weren’t my thing.

The weather in Macau this time around could reach 10 degrees Celsius, which from my experience could make any nipple pointy and huge noses like mine frosty. But it also made it the perfect weather to commute around Macau in what would be my favourite mode of transport – by foot. There was actually so much more to the city than just tall, flashy buildings with neon lights, flashing women and fancy lobbies and boobies. Like… more boobies, pole dancing and well, you’ll see…

Go thatta way to Grand Lisboa

Pee-tiful Pee-ple

Day after day, millions of people leave their jobs (and toilets) for a serious reason... Toilet hygiene. The art of peeing INSIDE the toilet bowl is almost as hard as predicting when Christmas is every year and thus, professional help was sought. Toilet ethics expert, The Moose has now released the answer to every half-witted mongrel son of a whelp who is incapable of holding his member in his hand and aiming for the toilet bowl instead of spraying it anywhere and everywhere AROUND the toilet bowl. One would assume that only children below the age of 10 would suffer from this severe case of stupidity, but alas, adults have proven to be the majority of the culprits. Bearing that in mind, renowned author The Moose has written an exclusive book aimed at schooling and once and for all, solving this nationwide plague.



"An amazing read! Suitable for both parents AND their kids! The Moose has done it again!" - KL Times


"A best-seller! And it saved my marriage!" - ex half-witted mongrel


"You... you can do that!? This is magical! Look! No more pee stains!" - YOU


"A highly recommended read for everyone! Especially those with penises and half a brain." - Ben. T Johnson

Something Fishy

I was reading the news (yes, again. I should really stop. It's destroying my mind) and one article was about this Beluga whale which saved a drowning woman.

Here's what the article from news.com.au read:

Yang Yun was taking part in a free-diving contest at Polar Land in Harbin, north-east China, in which participants were required to sink seven metres to the bottom of a pool and stay there for as long as possible without the aid of breathing equipment.

Ms Yun, 26, thought she was going to die amid the beluga whales she shared the arctic pool with, after struggling to move her legs while trying to kick her way to the surface.

"I began to choke and sank even lower and I thought that was it for me - I was dead,” she told The Sun.

“Until I felt this incredible force under me driving me to the surface."

That “incredible force” was Mila, a beluga whale which had noticed her distress and clamped its jaws around her leg.

Using her sensitive nose, Mila drove Ms Yun carefully to the surface, to the amazement of onlookers and an underwater photographer who captured the entire incident on film.

Yang Yun later met up with some of her fishermen homies, caught the whale and had sushi for dinner later that night.
Well, that's just what I think, but my point is, these gentle creatures mean no harm to humans in any way... Yet they are hunted, butchered, slaughtered while others are kept in captivity, taken away from their families.
That's just disheartening and inhumane if you ask me. These creatures are incapable of feeling hatred nor do they hold grudges against humans... The very same morons who kill and capture them. So, once again, humanity and its selfishness has done well to sicken me.

LEAVE THEM WHALES ALONE!!!

Right, as if this post is actually gonna make a difference and save the whales... But heck, I believe that even small steps can eventually make a difference. Sign petitions, jump in the ocean and throw a harpoon at whale hunters... anything. Join the Moose in the fight against Whale Hunting.

This public service announcement is brought to you by:

The Moose

Pathetic Beings - A Study

Pardon the sudden disappearance of the Moose. What with work and all, finding the time to write on yet another platform really seems impossible if not painful. But then, I realise that heyy, half the shit I write is related to what I despise/hate/loathe. Take your pick.
And it would be so totally wrong of me to just provide no form of recognition whatsoever to these things I dislike so much, now wouldn't it?
With that being said, I now present you my latest topic of hatred - The Human Race.


Before I begin this passionate piece of work, let me say this, dissing the entire Human Race would be stupid, for indeed there exist people who actually are decent, possess the ability to think rationally and well, don't act like complete ignorant asses.
HOWEVER, these are only a minority, and the streets of Malaysia (and globally) are unfortunately flooded with mindless, incompetent droids.

For the past month or so, I've met some really strange people and being me, I do not shy away from speaking my mind.



SIMON SAYS...
First you have the predictable bunch of retards...
These people stand there, totally influenced by the media and have no personal opinion and having their own stand is something unthinkable if not taboo. They, (just like a flock of sheep following its shepherd) follow what society deems right and just by taking a look around you (yes, right now. Go on, look around you), you would almost surely find a few. What are they listening to? Oh, those very same songs the radio repeats 167693513 times a day? That's just one of many symptoms these "breed" of people have. The next, slightly more complex trait would be their reaction to any given situation... Or their response for that matter.
Ask them what they think about MJ's death? Be prepared for the very same response nearly everyone on your Facebook account used as their personal status.
Give them a magazine, watch as they skim through and almost immediately head for articles on celebrities, parties or the latest fashion. To them, knowledge on these is far more vital than reading anything that interests THEMSELVES. They need to know what other people find interesting, they need to like what others like, they need to be what others are. In the end, wave goodbye to individualism and give a warm, disgusted welcome to yet another mindless, predictable pansy. I'm not complaining however, cause they are so easily manipulated. You can read their next moves, you know how they will react and with that knowledge in hand, *tadaa* you are now the proud owner of your very own droid.


And then we have the UN-ORIGINALS..
Somewhat similar to the followers of "Simon Says..." these people have no personal characteristics. They're merely a mimicry of people they see (in real life or in the big screen) of which they label as "acceptable" in society. They rehearse jokes they either get from movies, the latest stand-up they stood up all night watching, or from another friend. Then, they go around repeating the joke, taking the credit for it and that in turn, (strangely) gives them a great sense of accomplishment. Half the things they say aren't anything they themselves come up with. They do not dress, talk, walk or act in a way they are comfortable with. Oh no, they consider doing that unacceptable and feel that by being themselves, they risk being social outcasts. Some speak with an accent (I'm sure you know of a few), some get tattoos (or in the case of girls, they get tramp stamps) that carry no personal message at all. They're just doing it cause "Hey, everyone else is doing it. I need... I MUST blend in." Little do they know, that the simple act of being themselves would get them real results.

The next bunch are rather scary... I'm gonna call them the INSECURE ONES.
Oh, where do I even begin? I'll start with the nerds. You sometimes see them in your class (if you're still in college), sitting right in front, hands raised at every question the lecturer shoots, and are usually the top-scoring students. Reputable indeed, but when they're smart YET insecure, that's when you hear of bully cases happening. You see, to these fellas sharing knowledge, helping other "not-so-book-smart" students or simply socializing with people who do not score straight A's would bring great shame to them and what they stand for. (which is usually close to nothing) Instead, they tend to stick to their own little posse, sharing notes and information among themselves, conveniently forgetting to inform their classmates about that stupid replacement class on Saturday or that assignment that was due last week. They just feel that they are of a higher social status and the very thought of being associated with the "others" is pointless. Crazy, even. And for you working bunch, you get these kind of people too. Almost similar to college nerds, these fellas try to sabotage your career, try to spread rumors or may act all friendly at first, but with not-so-noble intentions at heart. The reason may be 'cause you scare the living shit out of them and they know you will eventually go further than them, so before this happens, they do their very best to dishearten you and try to unethically rid of any competition. Regardless of it being healthy competition or not. Instead of bowing down and wanting to learn from people who are better than them, their ego gets dramatically challenged and this "I'm the shit" mentality takes over, leading to their own downfall eventually. Now that we've covered those, let's move on to insecure girls.
You usually find these ones posting a shit load of self-pics (or in a more politically correct term - camwhore pics) from every possible angle, color, effect, clothing, facial expression and location to eventually find that one or two (Okay, fine. Maybe 3) pictures in which they get the most comments saying "U look good bebz! ;)" followed by a little "whore-celebration-dance" cause someone actually checked them out. When a chance like this does not arise, they resort to other means of attention seeking, may it be intolerable levels of flirting, fishing for compliments or the most common case, cheating. It may be with an ex, a guy who "is only a close friend" and all that. Ah, what a load of crap. We all know these people are stored there for a reason. When that little pimple pops up, or all that gobbling of Mc Donalds takes its toll and a few extra pounds come visit, the insecurity strikes back. The solution? Attention from other guys which would feed their pitiful low self-esteem and put the fake impression that they actually "still got game" and found to be desirable by others. Good Lord, you see how dependant they are on others to feel secure and confident? That's the insecure ones for you.


Next, comes my favorite breed to abuse... the BLONDES.
Words fail me at describing just how annoying these ones are. Sure, you have some not-so-bright people around, that's acceptable and all that. BUT!!! When these exact same ones attempt (and fail miserably) at sounding/acting smart, that's when they should be shown no mercy. At all! They may sound full of confidence, have this "I'm-so-right" tone of voice but what comes out of their mouths totally begs to differ. My favorite solution is to just shoot 'em down and make them realize how truly stupid they are. It's simple. This breed needs no further elaboration. (Or maybe I'm just saying that cause this had turned up to be one LOOONG ass post and I probably lost your attention at the third paragraph.)


Up next, a little mixture of the UNORIGINALS and INSECURE ONES... the FAKES!
At this point of your life, you should already be able to differentiate your TRUE friends and those who simply want to use you to fulfill their own selfish needs. They may smile, act all cheerful infront of you, yet sooner or later you find out this very same person you shared your Kit Kat with is bitching 'bout you behind your back. Yes, gutless I know. They all are. But it is who they are, and there is no helping it. What you need to do, is pinpoint these ones, and give them a dose of their own medicine. Play along to their little scheme (oh yes, they think you know nothing of it) and when the opportunity arises... WHAM! Verbally, physically, virtually (it's your choice. I tend to go with all three) assault them. Being used results in abuse. I belive in the mirror theory - do to others 50 fuckin' times worse as to what they have done to you. Mercy shouldn't even exist in your dictionary when it comes to the Fakes. A sneaky bunch indeed, hard to catch in short periods of time BUT once they give a hint of fakeness, you'll appreciate vengeance more than ever.

And lastly, you have...
THE KIDS
For some weird reason, probably due to nuclear waste, people in the bodies of 'adults' have sickeningly child-like behavior too. Despite having a stable income, owning their own car or hey, maybe even a house... Their mind is frozen at the mindset of a 15 year old.
They have the dumbest conversations, come up with the lamest jokes, get uptight over the smallest things and are commonly pretentious. Getting on their nerve does not prove to be a challenge, so you should use this to your full advantage.

AND THEN WE HAVE THE JEWS!

YOU can do your part in curbing this problem of inferior beings by:

i.) Telling them off in the most sarcastic way possible. (my personal choice of mentally torturing them) Just be brutally honest and voice out what other 'nice' people consider being too "mean" and "heartless". It may be their only chance at realizing who/what they are and by some strange miracle... change.

ii.) Come up with a pop/R&B song (they tend to favor these genres of music) so annoying, their puny brains melt. Then again, aren't they all already annoying?

iii.) Get a friend of yours with STDs (I personally would laugh my ass off at my friend if he DID have STDs,, Captain Herpes! aHAHAaha. Sabertooth crotch crickets! Ahaha! Cough..) to sleep with one of the INSECURE ones. Doing so will unleash a slew of sexually transmitted diseases (if you paid attention, you'll know INSECURE ones sleep around) and they'll all eventually perish. OR you could also present these hoes with a Scout Cap and a picture of you tea-bagging her sister. Why a Scout Cap you ask? The very same reason polar bears wear sunglasses in Coke ads. That's why.


iv.) Tell these people that an Akon concert is taking place, then rent a tank and run over all of them (including Akon) once they're at the concert singing along to.... How am I supposed to know his songs? You frickin' crazy?

I certainly hope this post made up for the Moose's one month of absence. As long as there's something to hate, I shall continue posting and before I end the post, I present to you, my non-existent readers, a poem...

Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
Fuck all those people above,
If you're one, then fuck you too.
I mean seriously, they're a bunch of retards.

Share your success stories with destroying these morons, voice out your opinion on these people or simply present me with your illogical arguments and pointing out of my grammatical mistakes.

With much hate,
- Moose -