I hate the Malaysian High Commission. Or whatever that accursed building is called.

(I'm not allowed to bitch about individuals, I'm assuming inarticulate organizations is fine)

No really, for the past 2 days, I have been waking up at the unearthly hour of 7:00AM to troop down to the malaysian high commission, which is a grub-infested building behind funan center with grumpy fat malay makciks guarding the door. And for the past 2 days, I have been refused entry to the bleeding place, because they only admit One-Hundred and Thirty (130) people into the blasted building. This is preposterous! I went home empty handed at the ungodly hour of 8:30AM!

(This might fall under excessive complaining. But i'm assuming its excessive VERBAL complaining that was problematic. Besides, everyone knows I'm just exaggerating for my own amusement.)

Aye yes so on today, I arrived at the Malaysian High Commission and waited outside hoping this time that I fell within the One-Hundred and Thirty (130) priviledged few. There was a queue that could probably rival the last hello kitty craze, but I was undeterred, so I stood in line. Leaning against the wall my mother kindly pointed out a huge caterpillar-worm thingy that was slowly but surely inching towards me. After nearly screeching in terror and leaping away from the wall, I decided that perhaps this building is not as clean as it sounds. So I stood up rigidly and continued to read Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit.

Amusing and engaging as the book may be, it was no match for the queue. As I slowly inched towards the entrance (yes the barbarians made the queue extend all the way outside into the scorching heat), my mind started to get very tired. So I kept away my book and waited for the evil makcik of death to finally get to me and allow me in.

She may have rudely told me to come back tomorrow on two occasions, but fortunately not this time. Seeing my familiar face she went "Oh you again ah? Come to do passport ah?" and laughed like it was very funny.

Now for those of you who have never had the rare opportunity to do immigration work, it is a long tedious and ridiculously stupid process that involves you standing there stupidly while the impatient immigration officer yells at you to do whatever she asks and stop asking stupid questions. My entry into the building was only the beginning.

Seeing how they gave us the queue number 1055 when they were serving number 982, We decided that it would probably be wiser to go somewhere and have breakfast. Which is the only part of today that I don't plan to complain about because delifrance food is really good when you're grumpy.

So after eating breakfast, which took about an hour or so, we went back, only to find that the queue had moved to 995.

So we went back to funan.

And back to the Malaysian High Commission.

And back to funan.

(repeat as desired)

Finally the queue numbers reached 1055. At approximately 11:30. So we went through all the scanning thumbprint photocopying IC nonsense, and the irritating malay woman through the glass panel kept telling my father to "Don't talk, just do" when really, what she was saying was typically incomprehensible.

To top it off, when we were finally finished, as we were walking out, we saw the evil makcik of death talking to this chinese woman. I heard the words Hundred and Thirty and was about to smile sadistically, when suddenly, the makcik moved aside to allow her in. She also looked noticeably happier after that.

I suspect the chinese woman did things the malaysian way. That is to offer a monetary token in order for the makcik to be suddenly afflicted with a strange optic disease. If only we had known this two days earlier. We could have paid her the amount we saved on carpark fees.