[Mini Update: Proof that once you're under the influence, you'd think anything is a good idea.]
One side effect of flying all over the place is that you have a crapload of things to write about that just seem to keep piling up higher and higher.
Scotland was one of the things I meant to write about and publish using Blogger's nifty delayed-publishing thingamajiggie, which I would theoretically set up to publish when I was in Greece. Which would leave you guys thinking I'm being extra keen and updating from Greece and you'd be none the wiser, while I'd be left feeling slightly clever.
In theory. Obviously in all the crazy last-minute hullabaloo approaching flight to Greece I had absolutely no time to do anything of the sort, save for a one sentence thing literally typed with one hand while I shoved clothes into bags with my passport between my............teeth.
So yeah. On Scotland - the great part about Scotland, or specifically Edinburgh, is that it's really like London for the variety of pubs, eateries, facilities, culture etc. Except it doesn't have the random dodgy/nasty/weird people you seem to bump into in the Tube.
Digressing, today I saw a Oriental-looking tourist in Athens out with his family in what could only be described as a flamboyant clown suit (missing the makeup), and coming out of the Tube in London I saw a family with luggage and children sleeping in sleeping-bags just outside the Tube station (wtf?) and to round off the day's madness, a random dude passed me with what I thought was a ferret in his arms. Hilarity never ends. One day I should post about the randomness I've encountered in the Tube.
Anyways.... so Edinburgh is really good as it has all the good bits of London without the nasty dodgy aspects of it. In fact, Edinburgh is pretty devoid of people altogether compared to sardine-can London. Which is nice for me who likes a quiet weekend enjoying the good weather.
And the weather was very good indeed.
The awesome weather made all the difference in a walk to Hollyrood (I know) Park. Clean and carefully tended flora everywhere, gulls and pigeons in flocks, and most importantly, there's no one to jostle for space and pollute the air with cigarettes, stereos, bawling kids, farts, burps, etc. Just a huge green space to chill out.
Edinburgh Castle was also clearly visible from the park.
There was also this rather curious-looking thing smack in the middle of the park which I'm still not sure is for.
It strongly reminds me of a popular toy featured in Toy Story.
Mr Potato Head!
Walking around the streets of Edinburgh, I also stumbled upon a charming little street market, selling the kind of oddities you can only find in British street stalls.
Chocolate fountain al fresco, with sweets to dip into the chocolate. With this kind of saccharine luk-luk, no wonder most British women are flabbulous.
The market consisted mostly of cottage-industry arts and craft wares. This lady was very flattered by me snapping a picture of her and her prickly-spiky ornament type things.
There was also a very funky store selling hand-made fashion items. Really pricey though, going for like £40-60 apiece.
I then wandered into a shopping mall and got distracted by this t-shirt shop selling hilaroius T-shirts (e.g. 'W.I.F.E. - Washing Ironing Fucking Etc', 'H.U.B.B.Y - Helpless Useless Balding Babbling Yob'). I decided to buy two (two for £20!)
Captions I chose:
Wine is made to be drunk
I am drunk
Am I wine?
Stick and stones may break my bones
But whips and chains excite me!
Yes they do. Oo yeah.
One thing about pub names. British pub names are as easily predictable as Chinese restaurant names. With the Chinese restaurants, you have names like Golden China, Imperial Dragon, Heavenly Palace, Forbidden Gate of the Four Winged Albatross, etc etc. With British pubs, mostly you can just combine any one or two nouns to form a name, or an adverb with a verb. It doesn't have to make sense - in fact, extra points if it doesn't make sense at all. Hence you get The Cowering Toad, The Fiddle and the Chicken, The Scholar and the Drake, The Bold and Beautiful, etc etc.
However, you do get the occasional deviant or two, or in this case, three of them in the same street. I stumbled across a street with pubs with the coolest names ever.
Is that like a naughty Chicken McNugget?
Lol. Just pure lol.
Presumably the pub owners being particularly proud of the filth cultivation of their lower appendages. Seriously, who the hell names their pub Dirty Dicks????
Scotland is awesome.
Monday, June 30, 2008
[Mini Update: Proof that once you're under the influence, you'd think anything is a good idea.]
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Scotland has many dogs. Which is nice.
I've seen so many new types of dogs when in Scotland. Lots of cute ones too. Dachshunds, Chih-Tzus, etc etc. However, I saw a really unique-looking breed last week, and OMG it was the cutest thing too. I stopped the lady walking it and asked what breed was it.
I don't get Scottish accents sometimes.
Lady: "It's Anerdel."
Me: ......How do you spell it?
Lady: "It's an A-I-R-E-D-A-L-E."
So how does an Airedale look like?
Unfortunately that also means there's dog poo everywhere on the street. When I walk to work and back, I always have to make sure that I stay right in the centre of the street. Not because I think I'm the grandest person there is, but because dogs poo all over the sides.
If you're not careful, you might end up being very unpopular at work on that day.
The French pay a lot of attention to how they behave, smell, and look. In fact, they pay so much attention to themselves that they don't bother how their dogs behave and poop all over the street, nor how the street looks or smells - as long as the dog doesn't poop at their expensively coiffed homes. Parisian streets permanently have wonderful waftage of cigarette smoke and dog poo. What would you call that scent? L'eau tabac et merde du chien? Sexy. Unlike their Parisian counterpartrs, Scottish dog-owners (and my are there a lot of them) are generally very clean and clear up after their dogs. But obviously not all do, hence the land-mines keeping my mind alert on the way to work early in the morning.
Although they clean up after their dogs, 'clean' might be a confused word here. They usually bring a plastic bag with them when they bring their dog walking. And if their dog does its thing, they use the plastic bag like an odd glove and pick the offending object up.
BUT IF THEY CAN'T FIND A PLACE TO THROW IT AWAY THEY KEEP HOLDING ON TO IT AND CONTINUE AS USUAL!!!
It's not a problem usually. But I saw a lady, after acquiring a steaming lump of organic matter from her pooch, proceeded to continue into a supermarket and do her shopping while still holding on to that thingy!
I didn't dare watch - but how the hell do you do your shopping while holding dog poo? You use one hand to hold your basket, and one to take things from shelves. So how do you hold your poo? Do you put it in your shopping basket too?
Ewww. Don't confuse it with your Cumberland sausages or black pudding ok.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
...not in a disgusting way, of course.
I've been busier than a one-armed hanger recently.
It's just the holidays coming up, I think there is an institutionalised conspiracy to squeeze every last bit of productivity before grudgingly allowing me to jet off (flying again! bah) to Greece. On holiday.
For one week.
I'm jetting off to Athens for a bit, then flying from there to Atlantis. There I plan to live the life of a bum. For a week anyway - lazing in the sun, riding scooters around, etc etc. A well-deserved break, after God-knows how long. I used to have nearly 6 months of holiday when I was at university, and now it's been reduced to a measly 20+ days a year. No wonder we look forward to whatever meager bank holidays we have with the eagerness and glee of a 40-year-old virgin scheduling his first time. Note that I say 'he'. Somehow 40-year-old virgins are always hes. Like Solomon Whatzisface as told by Sheylara.
But anyway I digress. I'll talk about Greece, Athens and Atlantis in due time, first, credit where credit is due, the amazing ivn has appropriately put his Mind's Eye to the task, et voila, c'est moi avant papier:
ivn, unabashed applause from my side. It's awesome - this shall be me profile pic!
Next up, posts from my adventures in Edinburgh. Promise. If my boss doesn't make me promise other things.
Monday, June 16, 2008
From Sue: If you were the ruler of the world and you could have anything you wanted as well as have people do anything you wanted, do you think you would get greedy and mean or would you be a good and fair ruler?
I'm going to go out on a limb here. I'm going to say that not only me, but I don't think anyone would be a 'greedy and mean' ruler, if put in that enviable hypothetical position.
Greed and glut is a result of deprivation. If one obtains limited access to a luxury (as much money as you can grab in 10 seconds, for example), one is liable to be consumed with greed. But what is the underpinning of this greed?
The need to stockpile, no? The urge to 'save for a rainy day'. You want to take as much as you can right now because you don't know when you're ever going to get this lucky again.
Which is why the question in the beginning, by definition itself, cannot result in a greedy ruler. You can't be greedy if you have everything you want, ever. Still not convinced? Let's draw another example. Say you are studying for the most challenging exam in the world. One of the most valuable things to you would be time. Time to play. Time to talk on MSN. Time to stare at the wall. In fact there was a time when I was studying for exams that I decided that after my exams I would take 30 minutes to stare at a wall because it was so enjoyable when I was mugging away.
However, after the exam everything changes. After the inital euphoria, boredom sets in and suddenly you have too much time. After a while you even begin to (the horror!) wish for something to study/do again.
Once you can have as much of it as you want, you really only take what you need. Excess loses all value because there is no worth in stockpiling.
I have no theory here. I'm gonna say I won't be mean because I don't believe people naturally derive joy from causing pain and suffering to others. Idealist? I don't really think so.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
[Mini update]: An Italian couple was caught having sex in a church confessional box while morning Mass...
This is an anecdote about a trip to Amsterdam...
I was in Amsterdam for a few days with two others some years back, two others that I'll call NorthKoreanTerrorist (NKT) and OldCat. Now many of my peers go to Amsterdam, they go to the Anne Frank Huis, other museums, have a canal ride, etc. Not my group.
Me, NKT and OldCat pretty much scoured the city for the vices - we'd already
- blasted through the Heineken beer factory (a tour, 3 half pints and a Heineken half pint glass souvenir for 10 EUR, very good deal)
- gone for a strip peepshow (1 EUR to see a bored lady waggle her ass half-heartedly, not a very good deal)
- and checked out the red light district (many girls and guys in flourescent underwear promising us a very good deal)
So anyways, NKT then announced that it's time to go for the only vice that's left:
NKT: Let's get high.
Me: No. Drugs are bad for you.
NKT: Come on, we've seen the whores, we've done the peepshows, that crazy dude even tried to sell us heroin! It's time to do the natural.
Me: Drugs diminish your braincells.
NKT: You don't need that many anyway. Brains are overrated.
Me: Drugs are overrated.
Me: Alright, you're on.
OldCat: Not me, I heard that that stuff stays in your system for months and I may have a dope check before I start my new job.
Me: Come on, let's get high, you too ancient? Your wrinkled aortic system too fragile?
OldCat: F**k you, you're on.
Now, being the anal asses we are, we were insistent on getting the best bong for our buck. We went around the city centre asking for the finest and most potent stuff, and eventually ended up in a place which I forget the name, but featured an Eye, very much like the Eye you see in dollar bills (the Eye in the triangle thingamajiggie). So I'll call it the Eye.
Everything in this place was topsy-turvy, very Alice in Wonderland ish. I supposed these all make sense when you're high, I don't know.
There are actually a myriad of choices of methods when you wanna get stoned, apparently. The multiple-pierced dude behind the counter (with a knowing smile I didn't really care for much, at least at the nervous state I was anyway) rattled off the ways and effects in a very scientific manner, and here's what I remember:
1. The method most Americans like is smoking, which is the least effective and most harmful, but apparently looks the coolest. Smoking is 3 times less effective than ingesting it. EUR 2 or something like that.
2. You can eat it in a 'space cake' (also called 'funnie brownie', 'special biscuits' or some other cute phrase), of which 14 grams of marijuana have been baked into a fruit-cake, and 14 slices cut from it, giving an approximate 1 gram per slice. A proper 'dose' per person is approximately half a gram when ingested, so you'd expect people to share a slice. This was going for somehting like EUR 3.
3. There is also a variant to ingestion in the form of a 'chocolate bon-bon', which looks somewhat like the kind of plastic-foil cookies I used to get from mum's friends as a child. Like above. This particular happy morsel contains half a gram, which is as you remember, one dose. This was going for EUR 2 ish.
The dude also told us, quite clearly, that it's a very bad idea to try and take this with alcohol. We (or rather I) duly noted this as only weed-virgins can. I still can't say from personal experience if this is a bad idea or not, I'll let others find out.
Now NKT, OldCat and I are many things, but 'moderate' may never be one of them, especially when we're together. We decided that, being the superior beings we are, we would need more than the recommended doses, especially when they weren't all that expensive to begin with. 2 space cakes and 1 choc bon-bon between all of us, which is 5 doses. We took our cakes and bon-bon and sat down in the coffeeshop and regarded them - I felt a wave of unreality pass me: My-my, here we are in Amsterdam, looking at 2 slices of cake and one chocolate snack like they might sprout an arm. And a leg.
OldCat took the bon-bon whereas NKT and I started on the cakes, eventually eating half a slice each. They were actually quite alright cakes, nothing really remarkable except for a distinct bitter taste, like they put some herb into it. Which effectively was what they did.
15 minutes passed and we felt nothing, except a slight worrying feeling that we've been had, and all these Dutch guys were sniggering at us. NKT and I finished up the cakes, tallying our doses as such:
1. NKT: 2 doses
2. Me: 2 doses
3. OldCat: 1 dose
We decided to leave, mainly because we were feeling more and more stupid waiting for something that seemed less and less likely to happen, and we decided to visit (on my suggestion), a popular tourist spot, Singel 7, which is supposed to be the narrowest house in the world. Yes, boys and girls, when you're travelling and never want to go to tourists areas, you probably don't want me hanging around.
No, we didn't take any lame pic at the place. We did ring the doorbell and run away though.
NKT then whispered conspiratorially to me "Hey, we're not feeling anything, wtf? Seriously I'm going to be really pissed off if I leave Amsterdam and we don't get high. WTF is this? We keep eating this crap and nothing happens!"
NKT's solutions to life's problems aren't the usual ones employed by most people. Most people would consider one of these options:
- Go back to the Eye, and ask if this is supposed to happen, and whether we're supposed to feel anything after taking what we took.
- Wait it out for a while to completely make sure we've been swindled, go to another place and contemplate getting more bitter thingies to chew.
- Simply forgetting about the whole thing and spending our next Euros on peep-shows instead. Or nice girls/boys. Or whatever.
NKT simply opted to 'lather, rinse, repeat' as needed. He promptly went back to the Eye and ordered up another slice of cake for himself and a bon-bon. OldCat grudgingly went for another bon-bon, and after rolling my eyes at NKT, I bought a bon-bon.
Feeling ridiculous (at least I did), we ate our bon-bons together, yam seng style.
1. NKT: 3 doses
2. Me: 3 doses
3. OldCat: 2 doses
We started playing cards (for some reason the coffeeshop had them), and NKT slowly worked through his last slice of cake.
Then it started happening. Final tally:
1. NKT: 5 doses
2. Me: 3 doses
3. OldCat: 2 doses
The first clear memory I have of it was when I was shuffling the cards. I was suddenly aware that it seemed like it was happening at a very faraway place, and I was somehow controlling my hands 'via remote control thought' (i.e. I consciously had to will my hands to shuffle the cards). I tried shuffling them some more, but it got very difficult. I semi-dropped them on the table, turned to NKT and said "Hey, I'm feeling something."
NKT picked up the cards, fumbled and dropped them. It took him very long to push all the cards back to the box, and after that he got up and returned them to the counter. I wasn't noticing all this - I've been staring at the wall for the pstt 5 minutes without realising I was doing it. I suddenly snapped out of it, and tried to tell NKT. However, he seemed to know what I was gonna say because he started giggling. I found it gut-bustingly hilarious and giggled like crazy too.
Between fits of giggles NKT choked out "Hey, shit, shit, let's go home. Fuck." I shared his sentiments - the idea was to try and rush back to our hotel where we could be stoned without causing damage to society/hurting ourselves/ending up in jail etc.
The next 5 minutes were a blur of random streets - we were crossing quite a number of them and to this date I'm not quite sure how many near misses we had - I certainly can't remember. Also, who the hell led the way, I'll never know as well. We sure didn't have a map - NKT keeps losing em.
Anyway we were on our merry way when OldCat has a brilliant thought. He remembers we haven't had dinner. He yells out "I want BEER for DINNAH!" and runs for the nearest supermarket. We run in right behind him.
Picture this: a trio of giggling morons running top speed up and down the aisles, literally grabbing whatever catches their eye. We spent quite a long time in the supermarket - here's a collage of memories -
- Me spotting a cheese counter, looking at the many 'wheels' of cheese and proclaiming to the attendant "Man, those sure as fuck look like tyres!"
- Running past an aisle, I spot OldCat trying to grab a six-pack of beer of the shelf. I run up to him, grab his shirt and yelled in what must have been as loudly as I could "THERE IS NO MIXING OF MARIJUANA AND LIQUOR, STUPID". The horror.
- Grabbing about 3 tubes of Pringles and some ham - I had the newfound, irrefutable theory that they were brilliant together.
I'm pretty sure there were many people in that supermarket (I remember queuing for a significant amount of time), but for the life of me I could not recall what their reactions were. Were they shocked to see 3 retards who could only move and talk in top speed and top volume? Or were they simply just used to stoned people in the randomest of places? I dunno. If you were one of those people do tell me.
The interesting part ends about here - because I can't remember most of it. I do remember:
- Munching my way through two Pringles tubes, ramming in ham slices in between mouthfuls, watching the news of some earthquake, and thinking idly I was going to give myself sandpaper for a throat the next morning. That was probably the so-called 'munchies'.
- Watching the wall-lamps in the room swim in the rippling ocean that was the wallpaper.
- NKT going into the bathroom "for a shower" and not emerging for what seemed like 4 hours. He has no recollection of what he did in there, I can only assumed he fell asleep in the bathtub or something. I don't wanna think anything else.
- OldCat trying to open a beer bottle (he did get some beer in the end, but wasn't smart enough to get a bottle opener) with some keys, he kept saying IT'S POSSIBLE, IT'S POSSIBLE I'VE FUCKING SEEN IT DONE BEFORE.
Findings and conclusions:
Some people have the notion that being high is similar to being drunk. Now this was quite a few years ago, but I still remember this clearly: it's nothing like being drunk. When you're drunk you:
- Feel wondrously dizzy
- Sometimes kinda sick around the back of your throat and your stomach
- You think a lot of dubious things are a good idea
- You wake up the next morning with a funny digestion system, a headache, and a bad taste in your mouth (not always all three, but often a selection of the three)
- Feel like everything is disconnected, like you're controlling your body remotely (like in a dream)
- Feel perfectly healthy
- Still think a lot of dubious things are a good idea though
- You sleep very soundly and wake up perfectly fine and ready to run out again
Just remember - the crap takes some time to take effect, and you feel nothing in between, so wait it out completely before you decide to enthusiastically chomp down more.
So yeah, go to Amsterdam, but forget about the tulips and windmills - just buy tacky souvenirs depicting them so people will think that's all you were up to.
Friday, June 13, 2008
From the Times, 13th June 2008:
Tiffany Hirst: the toddler left to die alone and unloved
It was “the little girl’s cry for help” that no one heard.
In a case of neglect that resulted in the death of Tiffany Hirst, 3, a court was told yesterday how passers-by used to see the gaunt face of the toddler staring through the window of her mother’s squalid flat.
Despite the flow of customers to and from the Sheffield pub below, senior detectives said that the neglect continued to go unnoticed, leaving the toddler to die, unloved and alone.
Tiffany was found by paramedics in a filthy bed in a beetle-infested room at the Scarbrough Arms in Addy Street, Upperthorpe. The pub was run by her mother, Sabrina Hirst, 22, and stepfather, Robert Hirst, 54.
Detective Chief Inspector Steve Williams, who led the investigation into Tiffany’s death, said: “We have heard that Tiffany would be seen staring out of her bedroom window and this was probably the little girl’s cry for help but nobody realised.
“It is heartbreaking. We think this neglect had been going on for months and that those last few months, weeks and days of her life, she was unloved, unwanted, starved of attention and left alone to die and she would have known that.”
He added that officers, used to dealing with cases of neglect, had been traumatised by what they saw. “She was like a tiny porcelain doll, so tiny and frail and we all wondered how this had been allowed to happen in this day and age.
“Children are a gift and should be cherished. Parents everywhere, those who have lost them and people unable to have them, will find this treatment unbearable and unthinkable.
“This must never happen again and if people have any concerns at all or suspicions about the welfare of a child they must call somebody because if only one out of every thousand calls turns out to be founded and a child’s life is saved, it is worth it.”
The face to hate: Robert Hirst, the son-of-a-bitch in question
Judge Alan Goldsack, QC, Recorder of Sheffield, adjourned the sentencing of the Hirsts, now of the Prince of Wales Feathers, Worsbrough Common, Barnsley, until the end of the month. She had admitted manslaughter and he admitted neglect. They were remanded in custody and are likely to face lengthy jail terms.
The court heard that the living quarters at the Scarbrough Arms where Tiffany died were “filthy and dangerous”. Live electrical wires were found hanging from the walls and one room where the family dogs were kept was full of excrement and urine.
In the 13 months leading up to Tiffany’s death, the Hirsts were “in a habit of leaving children locked up in residential quarters”. Tiffany was severely malnourished, covered in bites and eventually died of pneumonia.
A serious case review has been launched by Sheffield Safeguarding Children Board into Tiffany’s death and the neglect of another child – aged 12 months – to which the couple have also pleaded guilty. The board has representatives from the council, police, PCT, children’s hospital, Sheffield Teaching Hospitals, Sheffield Futures, NSPCC, and Probation Service. Alan Jones, its chairman, said: “We have been immensely saddened by the death of this three-year-old girl.
“The board has commissioned a review, to look at the involvement that agencies had with this family and to make sure any necessary changes are made so that children in Sheffield are no longer put at risk in this way.”***********************************************************
When I was a child I always thought Tiffany was such a beautiful name. When I read about little Tiffany Hirst in the news while on the Tube today I got so disturbed that I couldn't think about anything else for a very long time, and finally had to let it out somewhere.
WHAT KIND OF SICK PERVERTIC FUCK DOES THIS? NORMAL PEOPLE WOULDN'T EVEN DO THAT TO HOUSEHOLD PESTS.
Robert and Sabrina Hirst. Remember these two names. I'm not sure if there is a God, but if there is, please can You make sure you send a memo to make sure they get extra special treatment when the time comes?
Remember Tiffany Hirst.
My thoughts have been dwelling on her all day, and I hope that wherever you are now, Tiffany, forgive us for letting you suffer in silence, and I hope you know that the world isn't like what you experienced in your short time here.
(3 years old, you sick FUCKS)
It isn't a dingy disease-ridden flat of which there is no escape from. It isn't full of electrical wires and dog waste. The world's imperfections may be apparent, but sweet Tiffany, there is much love in the world, and I hope you can feel our love and emotions for you wherever you are.
Do not judge the world based on the sick, twisted hell your so-called parents created for you. Do not think that humans are monsters, like what your 'care-givers' must have been like to you. If you ever decide to come back to this world, I wish you the very best and hope you will have the sweetest second chance at a life in this world.
Monday, June 9, 2008
[Mini update: junkie monkey by Urban Dictionary: A term used for fat, ugly rock-stars who are addicted to crack.]
I was a big Mr Bean fan once.
I'm sure you remember the opening scene for the original series - a spotlight shines on a cobblestone street, Mr Bean drops down ('cicak style', my dad always says), and a choir sings, while he starts to aimlessly run about.
I was humming the tune to myself today and thought they sounded rather Latin. I did a quick check on what the lyrics were.
Ecce homo qui est faba
Ecce homo qui est faba
Vale homo qui est faba
Vale homo qui est faba
Do you know what does that translate to?
Ecce homo qui est faba = Behold (the) man who is (a) bean
Vale homo qui est faba = Farewell (the) man who is (a) bean
Imagining it in English, I found that spit-sprayingly funny. Yeah, I'm weird.
Friday, June 6, 2008
[Mini update]: New blog title (see your window title). I keep changing it. :/
Ever since making my own pasta, I kind of inadvertently became a pasta snob when it comes to restaurants. I never really enjoyed ordering pasta in restaurants, believing it to be the least worth-your-money option (which is true) as they simply boil some stuff and dump more stuff onto it.
However, I always jump at the chance to savour handmade pasta when I can. Hand-made egg pasta is really really good.
Casacelli ala Moda (on my friend's recommendation) at a local restaurant recently...
Note the Italian flag! Them Italians are always crazy for the flag representations. Spinach and parmesan on the left, ricotta and some meat pasta in the centre, and some kind of ham on the other. How come I don't know? It doesn't say on the menu, and didn't fancy gibbering my crappy Italian at the waiter. Doesn't matter, it's all good.
For dessert, profiteroles.
Nothing exciting here, except that I haven't had profiteroles since I was in Sicily I think ... long time.
Which reminds me of the lunch in Chelsea recently, behold the RM40 roti canai/prata.
To be fair it's like the best prata I've ever tasted. But it's 20 times the normal price.
Even their bandung has to be cheem.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
[Mini update]: Buy my item. Please? :(
[Mini update]: SkinnySmartie is coming to London in October!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY!!!
While watching V for Vendetta, during the scene where Evey is 'reborn'.....
P goes into fits and says, "Yay! Now she becomes V too! Then she'll put on a mask as well and shou-la-shou (hold hands) with him! He is FIRE, she is WATER, together, WE ARE 'W'!!!"
I never laughed so hard in my entire life.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Press 'Play' for the kick-ass revamped song!
I am, of course, talking about Sex and the City! I went to watch it over the weekend. And not just in any old theater.
In the fricking O2 arena, yeah baby. It was a great great day with great weather.
Many movie critics have said that while the movie is good, at 2 hours and 20 minutes it is too long. It's too short I say.
Anyways, no spoilers here, watch SATC the Movie right now - if you're in Censor City Malaysia get the DVD.
After that, I caught sight of a mini-golf course.
I won't torture you with a blow-by-blow account of my game, but suffice to say that I was doing pretty well until I saw someone get a hole-in-one and I got jealous. Cue cataclysmic blowup of concentration and using about 20 strokes on a single hole. Eeesh EEESH.
The Malaysian Government will hike petrol prices tonight (4th June 2008) by 40% to RM 3.70 (premium leaded). Here's a quick 5-min what-I-think.
- Less pressure from the oil price increase
- Better subsidy segmentation
- People who need the subsidy (lower income bracket) will receive it - i.e. the subsidies are now easily tailored
- Previously through a blanket subsidy, the people who benefited most from the subsidies are the ones that use the most petrol, who aren't necessarily the ones who need it the most (in fact quite the opposite)
- Less problems with (sorry) Singaporeans and Thais skivving off Malaysian subsidies
- More thought will be given to public transport
- Government can use the extra funds to improve public transport (both in logistics and in public image)
- People will be pushed to consider public transport instead of wanting a car as a 'given'
- Less of the 'I must have a car or die trying' mentality
- Hybrids may be able to break into the Malaysian market (a bit of wishful thinking but there you go)
- - Makes the government extremely unpopular, which is always entertaining to watch
- My parents probably have to pay more
- Extra funds may not be used for the right purposes (in which case I'd rather have the old-style subsidy obviously)
- There will be a traffic jam tonight at all petrol stations
- Poor station jockeys will have to work OT tonight
Monday, June 2, 2008
[Mini update]: Flight captain's intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen. I am sorry for the delay in your flight, we are trying to chase a fox off the runway at the moment. . ."
[Mini update 2]: Seriously, buy my item. Please?
I bought something on impulse lately. Say hello to Pinky and Ponky. Pinky being the cat.
Got this when I was waiting for a flight. An old lady of infinite cuteness smiled at me and asked me if they were for my daughter.
-_-" Am I that old-looking?? I smiled and finally mumbled that it's for my baby sister. Nyahahaha.
But these ain't any old stuffed animals. I'll show you.
See? They have a velcro strap on their undersides - if you unfasten them, they become flat, bearskin-rug style!!!
Like so. Aren't they awesome?!