what's with these petty wee island moaners?
... MY SINGAPOREAN friend was on the upper deck of a bus when she felt someone pull her hair. She turned around to find a teenage boy making a face at her and shouting, 'Chink! Chink!'.
Shaken, she approached the bus driver and told him what had happened. The Sikh came up and ordered the miscreant off the bus. The boy replied brazenly: 'Are you picking on me because I am white?'
By most accounts, this kind of racist behaviour is not uncommon in Coventry, the mid-sized English town with a large population of Indian immigrants, where I attended the University of Warwick...
so it's totally rude of whites to behave badly towards chinks like that twit; but it's ok for 'em to namecall wee island minorities according to their colour. in chinese.
and the journo herself displayed a classic example of pot and kettle by mentioning the bus driver's race there. isn't "Asian" more than suffice? and amazingly enough - to her wee mind at least - there ain't any form of existent racism ever on the islet.
just like 'em amoeba's over here at the workplace. whenever i converse in malay with my colleagues, 'em lowest common denominator chinks immediately show their utter displeasure with appropriate dour facial expressions and body language. how come? they are so afraid of us talking behind their backs, that's why.
yet it's perfectly alright for them to gibber about in their ear-grating broken mandarin in the minorities' presence. this is not mere double standards, rather their utterly misguided arrogance as member's of the mighty yellow race.
and oh, sample this drivel:
... And it may well have been due to ignorance or veiled condescension, but I was often complimented on my English - not bad even though it is not my native language, I was told.
Or perhaps racism is too strong a word. It is true, though, to say that some people I met at university were not very eager to get to know people different from them...
for crying out loud, couldn't she simply accept those compliment's graciously? just because she came from THE wee isle, she expected the entire blue marble to know that every wee islander speaks english proficiently?
how the hell do these imbecile's get this far in life?
same spastic cow-orker just gave me a cutesy oriental fan of a courtesan playing the guzheng/chinese zither. whereas the rest of 'em female cow-orkers received those traditional chinky name stamps.
what is she insinuating with that fan?
the colleague seating next to me exclaimed the following upon stepping in to his cube farm this morning, whereupon a wee kite was placed on his desk: "eh, someone's telling me to go fly a kite?"
it's a souvenir from a spastic cow-orker who just returned from a missionary trip to the peopre's lepubrik of wotsit.
obviously said spastic cow-orker doesn't know the implications of inappropriate gifts.
following up to the "threat" made by the workplace to the one and pathetically only wee island cable service provider, all three english premiership footy matches were beamed 'live' this evening, throughout the islet as scheduled.
not sure about sunday's though. the workplace don't stand to gain if the premiership blackout is carried out as their reputation here is at stake.
this just struck me. pertaining to official religions of the united kingdom, except northern ireland:
1. there's the church of england, or the anglican church to the rest of the blue marble
2. there's the church of scotland, or the presbyterian church to the rest of the blue marble
oddly enough, there ain't a church of wales. or is druidism it? but of course druidism is anything but christian.
and no, i'm not going to talk about sheep. although the word "flock" applies to 'em as well.
spotted this column off the sun, that a wee island actress, wendy kweh will appear in the bill this season. and she does look really lovely, not because she is yer typical exotic wee islander.
she has got the looks of a person from my community. really.
unsurprisingly, there's no mention of her plying her trade in old blighty on the daily rag whatsoever. she didn't start her career on the chink language telly station, that's why.
regardless, at least her character doesn't go by the hollywoodish name of May/Mei Ling. and the character name of Suzie Sim, that is so wee islander :) as the surname itself is not the usual cantonese or peopre's lepubrik of wotsit; rather one that belongs to my chinese dialect group, hokkien.
bless the bill's creators. and fookin' hell to the terrestial "broadcasters" for not bringing in the bill anymore.
due to a contractual dispute between the workplace (TWP) and the one and pathetically only wee island cable service provider (CSP), wee islander's may be deprived of the rest of this season's english premiership footy (EPL). starting this weekend.
hoho. don't mean to wind anyone up but i'm totally fed up of seeing 'em spastic bandwagon amoeba's frothing at the gob at the mere mention of EPL.
ok, where was i? i must say that it's all about the dosh. i deduced that since CSP's sport channel(s) had lost all rights to telecast the FA cup and England matches to TWP, they have the effin' gall to demand the latter for a percentage of their advert revenue.
but at the other end, TWP are imploring the CSP to cough up more, due to their paying alot more now for the telecast rights. which CSP refuse, quite rightly so, as they have to pass on the costs to subscriber's. who would be well annoyed as the last increase - for the sport package - was due to the EPL programming two years ago.
however, in order to maintain their exclusive rights to broadcast the EPL in this part of the blue marble, TWP have to pay the price. in addition to the FA cup and England games for the next four seasons. which the journo failed to mention on the article.
in short, both TWP and CSP are but a bunch of greedy fooker's.
what's more baffling:
1. discussions between TWP and CSP have been going on for three month's
2. the rest of us minionic slave's - who ensure TWP's operation aspects are running smoothly - are kept in the dark of such development's that we only learnt of last week's near blackout through the press
3. likewise for today, just under an hour before we called it a day, we were told of scheduling changes; and then staying back to make the necessary amendments
to which #2 and #3 above, yes i'm completely disillusioned and absolutely pissed with TWP.
appparently my phone bloggin' yesterday didn't go through. technology eh?
i was away for part 2 of the workplace's teambuilding tosh the whole day at a hotel. i don't quite know how to put it as:
1. we were made to come up with a mission statement for our newly-cobbled together division that comprises of two separate departments
2. the VP of slave labour relations conducted the workshop - whom i got along with famously actually
3. the gaffer had his foot in his gob yet again - nothing new there
what rounded up the evening was me trying to score brownie points having a beer with the head gaffer, a lovely down-to-earth american lady who is undergoing the process of anglofication. or more specifically, strine-nification.
i caught her saying "chat", "loo", and the way she pronounces certain words. she worked in Oz for almost a decade before coming here; and i reckon having an aussie hubby, she'd sound 100% strine in no time.
apols for the utter gibberish blahed lately, work is getting insanely ridiculous to the point where i'm tempted to bring along my hockey stick to work.
which i shall not describe in detail as to what i'm gonna use it for. anyhooo, take a look at this equation:
one hell of a pissed-off harridan woman + weapon = ???
some good news though - my business commences officially on 1 september. it was registered yesterday and was approved immediately by the Registry of Business. all done online. will talk more about it soon.
so in the meanwhile, do keep yer eyes peeled. i may come up with something utterly brilliant.
off a couple of Marks & Spencer's choccy wrappers:
sicilian lemon - white and dark chocolate bar with a tangy lemon mousse centre on a lemon parfait base
creme brulee - milk chocolate with toffee pieces and a lightly whipped double cream centre
apparently the bollocks here at the workplace has taken its toll. in the form of acne.
and i shall not describe it in detail, as the mere sight of it is enough to cause utter anguish.
that sneaky furtive glancing very married yank lawyer that i fancy also? i accidentally found out that he's actually *english*. i swear he sounded yank because he speaks with a drawl. and it doesn't help that he's so soft-spoken to begin with.
regardless, now i have a perfectly good reason to bonk know him better then. apart from the fact he plays weekend rugby, and has a couple of english premiership posters on his office walls...
a wee island table tennis player at the athens games wotsit has kept some hopes alive as she advanced into the semi's.
i really don't quite know how to react, as:
1. the olympics is one massive politics-influenced nonsense watched by glory seeking sad git's
2. wee island "athletes" are perennial no-hoper's
3. most of 'em wee island "athletes" are second or third-rate foreigner's
4. said wee island table tennis player is technically from the peopre's lepubrik of china
if she does go on to win the gold, good for her. and then the entire islet would watch her attentively if she would make the effort to warble the national anthem - which is in malay.
i doubt she would.
now that it has been discovered that the avian flu infects pigs as well, wee islanders would whip themselves up into a mighty state of panic. or probably not, knowing how mighty ignorant some of them can be.
this news comes right after yesterday's announcement on the temporary banning of malaysian poultry import for the next two weeks or so, when a pair of chickens at a kelantan farm fell victim to the bug.
reet. about time for the letter b to convert to veganism? afraid not.
i'm still not sure how i should place the wee laddie - aka the irish chappie. is he:
1. irish?
2. northern irish, which technically means he's british after all?
3. scottish due to his family name, which incidentally is not of celtic origin?
i am indeed confused. or completely pathetic given my preoccupation with this rather trivial matter.
*i was recently told not a few times that i sounded peculiarly irish with certain words. so all those gallon's of guinness quaffed at the local didn't go to waste after all.
someone switched the channel on the works telly to bbc news early today. bless.
and it's not as if i ain't working whatsoever. although i can't say for sure about me grey cells.
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
20 August 2004
SMS MESSAGING
SMS messages were invented by the British company Logica as a cheap alternative to mobile phone calls after a review of overheads identified the spiralling cost of mobile phone bills. The messages grew in popularity after they were commended as "a great leap forward for dyslexics" by dyslexia activist and actress Hayley Mills.
so i'm back to the usual drudgery at the workplace. it was a good day out yesterday outdoors where certain cow-orkers showed off their brilliant leadership/problem solving skills.
with disastrously tragic consequences as nobody listened to the facilitators' instructions. besides looking - or pretending to be - lost and utterly inept, turning to the gaffer and the head gaffer for directions a few times.
whereas i got the perfect excuse to not doing any more activities after lunch as i tweaked an arm muscle whilst grabbing the wrist of a cow-orker during the pseudo-tightrope walk bit. such that the facilitator and a new colleague showered me with so much attention that i wondered if i did after all put up a too convincing fakery performance.
apart from them both, a few colleagues who i hardly speak to at work came up to ask after me which touched me beyond words. heh, probably my mind-manipulating pep talk worked its magic on them while they wobbled their way on the tightrope.
but i must say that i was somewhat pleased that all of them - ok, except a couple and of all people, the gaffer - did not miss the next wobbler when swinging an overhead rope over. without even turning to look at them.
anyhooo, it was a sight seeing the despairing gaffer lost the plot, whimpering for help when things go horribly awry. and when we were dismissed by day's end, my head gaffer - who is Yank - hollered "hip hip hooray.. etc".
eh?
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
18 August 2004
BAD LANGUAGE
Last year in Britain over thirty computer programmers were admitted to hospital, after attempting to speak Programming Language, and one was assaulted by a woman in Penge who thought he was being lewd.
ok, just to fill up the space, reference the topic on sheep i twaddled about.
whose clever idea was it to entirely populate both the north and south islands of new zealand with sheep? as if those wee flightless birds called kiwi weren't enough already?
for crying out loud, i seem to suffer a blogger's block. it's got nothing to do with the lack of clever albeit sarcy topics to ramble about.
c'mon, the letter b running out of stuff to vent her spleen on?
it must be the utter madness here at the workplace that doesn't seem to let up for four month's running, that's why. such that not only my braincells are thoroughly knackered, but scattered all over the place as well.
oh well.
there will not be any blah's tomorrow as i'd be away at some "adventure" park for the department's "team building" bollocks. which we supposed to attend last month but was postponed to tomorrow and next wednesday.
and then we were made to sign some indemnity form in the guise of food preferences and medical allergies declaration from the organisers. i listed *"grass" and "vertigo" under the allergies and medical condition sections, as i gathered we would spend alot of time getting *baked/roasted under the sun.
me bro suggested that i put "cow-orkers" so that i'd be left to my own devices.
if only i could.
* not that i have an aversion towards sunlight. or grass. though i do have a frightful fear of heights.
i posed this question to a cumbrian at the local the other day which went like this:
the viking's plundered and pillaged
1. the coastal areas of scotland and also settled on the shetland and orkney islands
2. much of ireland that they even founded the cities of dublin, cork, waterford amongst others
3. a teeny wee bit of the north west, the north east and a huge chunk of the east of england right up till the midlands
but astonishingly, wales was left untouched. unscathed. how come?
he replied it was the women that repulsed the viking's. nay, i countered. it was because they only saw sheep, sheep and more sheep that's why. nothing else but sheep for miles on end.
and that also explains why the viking's didn't disturb much of cumbria. it's the sheep, i added.
an insightful article on what's being done to the area surrounding one of the only two malay palaces on the wee isle.
pertaining to the arab-sounding street names, there is a significant arab population over here, who have had their roots here since mid 19th century. in fact they could be considered truly wee islander than most chinks, who are mere second or third generationers.
interestingly, most of them are of not purely arabic descent, as intermarriage with other races is still rife. if they have a choice, they would rather prefer the youngling's to marry within their own community.
it must also be said that the wee island arabs are a unique group as:
1. they took to the malay style of dressing
2. malay is their mother tongue and/or lingua franca
3. their forefathers were merchants that's why as recently as the seventies/eighties they dissuade their progeny from marrying malays
4. the womenfolk don't go around covering themselves bonce to toe like their counterparts in the middle east
5. most don't look arabic whatsoever such that i look for clues to their origin via their names; like, the blokes would have the prefix Syed (wotsit bin father's name) and the lasses, Sharifah (wotsit binte father's name)
which methinks is a way of keeping their identity, due to the multicultural nature of the islet. and again, perhaps of their numbers. also, they recognise one another through the "tribes" or "houses", like Al-Junied and Alkaff which are the commonest over here.
indeed, the wee island arabs are also some of the friendliest and laidback folk around here. so now you's know how come i know much about them eh?
firstly, it was ice hockey. and then rugby. now it's the F1.
i'm talking about my interest in sports that i once slagged off with much vitriol. and i even spent a good hour watching the hungarian F1 thingy on the weekend.
well at least this time it's not because of some fanciable bloke i was trying to impress loads. erm, there's a certain Jensen Button to look out for..
not sure if that irish chappie noticed it, the moment we locked blinkers as he was coming out off his office. and there i was half expecting him to turn to my direction, as my heart nearly stopped mid-beat. only that he turned right, there half a step ahead of me.
from now onwards i shall call him the wee laddie. he's 5' 7" - or probably 5' 6.5" - just half a head taller than me.
oh and he had to walk with his right hand inside his pocket. having the nerves, luv?
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
15 August 2004
EXTREME OLYMPIC DEBUT
The extreme sport of catching the javelin is to be a demonstration sport at the next Olympics, along with swallowing the shot. The 4x400 m dynamite relay has not been accepted.
nicked off the Kaiser's. as if i need this result to convince you's that i'm no accidental northern lass.
though it is purely coincidental that my ex-boyfriend is a northerner. and some ex-fling's also :D
YOU ARE A NORTHERN BASTARD
Flat caps, tripe, life down t'pit, black pudding, Grimsby. Just a few of the things that you hold dear to your heart, for you are now officially a Northern Bastard. Why not celebrate with a good ol' fashioned party in the street with bunting, flags and jelly and custard?
If you are, in fact, a southerner and are reading this then don't be too disappointed. You now have to be friendly to people, pronounce poor as 'poowa' and take baths in a steel bathtub in front of the living room fire. Not really. That would be ridiculous. Just move to Workington.
If you are in fact a true northerner, good on ya! And, we'll see you down south in a couple of years. Just you watch.
In conclusion, I'll si thi later, ya bastard!
Why not take the test?
not sure if this is purely coincidence or wotyemaycallit:
whenever i wear a white top - as in tee shirt, or shirt - the sneaky stealing glancing american lawyer also wears same. and if i wear differently, so does he. and i've started noticing this about two week's ago.
like minds think alike? ok, useless blah, this.
heard off the radio, a phone interview with upcoming yank punk rock outfit, yellow card. the dj asked the lead singer, Ryan wotsit, how they got their name to which he explained, emphasis mine:
"...like in the game of football, uhm, not american football but what we called it here soccer ...blah... when you fouled a lad in football you get a yellow card ...yadda... football...".
bless you, son.
but only for the spastic dj to utter, "...glad to hear that you enjoy the game of soccer..".
WEE islander.
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
12 August 2004
AMERICAN POODLES
The ludicrous suggestion that Tony Blair is America's poodle is totally without foundation. He is in fact, America's Yorkshire Terrier(crossed with Lurcher).
Mrs Thatcher, however, was in fact America's poodle. She was bred in kennels south of Hereford, Ohio, but with no trace of any pedigree. Unfortunately not innoculated, and of dubious parentage, she was given to outbreaks of violent snapping of teeth, peeing on poor people, and rabid stealing of hubcaps, limelights etc.
She had to be put down in 1990 when she savagely attacked and killed a pensioner for daring to criticize her policies.
'em client "services" scumslag's are at it again. before i moan about what they are up to this time, i'll explain briefly what sort of thingies go into 'live' telly programming. apart from the actual sport.
like the english premiership for example. soz for this but since it has given some of us a massive 'mare at this time of writing, i thought it makes perfect sense:
1. commercial breaks => adverts
2. features => that score clock; players' names flashing on the screen; subs replacing 'em players; names of players who got carded, sent off, or knocking the ref about; latest scores of games played elsewhere amongst a variety of others.
so, where do the scumslags come in? they receive bookings of commercial spots and features from clients, besides other "servicings". which they pass on to department x who key in the entries into the database system.
in other words, said department are unofficial minions of 'em scumslag's. and as such, they treat every other department within their radar as their slaving minion's also regardless. mind, these scumslag's ain't managers, they are just like every other slave's over here.
hence, knowing that the start of the premiership is the busiest period, these scumslag's have been messing us with their features requests that come bit by bit. not as a compiled list which we do not mind if it is one long massive one.
not only it upsets our momentum, but it also means we have to re-enter each new set of features to same programmes - 'live' matches and related magazine programmes.
and whenever the gaffer asks them to practise common sense, they reply the standard, "what can we do when our clients return to us this late?". indeed, you's probably need to work on yer servicing's then. oh, and the premiership ain't the only product that you's have problems with, you know.
so today after receiving one such email from department x, i queried:
I hope you could inform whomever it is not only time consuming but it also reflects their current state of mind. Thanks.
oh, 'em scumslag's are the charges of that fanciable irish chappie. not sure if i should do something..
no, i don't think i should.
if you's think it's time for a certain kyl1e wotsit to retire.
apart from looking like a haggard sleazebag these days, it's really tiresome hearing her dishing out song after song after song after.. you's get the drift.
i don't mind if she comes up with something brilliant once in awhile, but churning out similar distasteful tuneless "hits" to no end makes her sound a tad stale.
nay, make that utterly completely stale. there.
yet another round of madness descends upon the workplace - it's the english premiership which is the cause.
and to consolidate their pole position as the bestest pan-regional broadcaster on this side of the blue marble, the workplace have come up with several new hourly and half-hourly premiership magazine programmes. in addition to the four or five existing ones.
that explains the new "cute" faces at production i saw lately.
the next time i'm asked at the clinic if i have any allergies, i'd reply "work". how could one explain then why the minute i step in to the workplace everyday, i'd cough me lungs and brain out.
erm, actually a colleague just told me that i have an allergy towards work after all, that's why.
wee islanders whinge about how the rest of the blue marble having this mistaken idea that the islet is part of the peopre's lepubrik of china.
could you blame them - ie: non wee islanders - then when the tourist board and some others put up a food fest in new york that had got the following fringe events, emphasis mine:
..Additional treats for New Yorkers included Chinese dragon dance performances, kickboxing demonstrations, Chinese character artists, children's face painters, East-West horoscope readings and masseuses offering relaxing massages.
how come there ain't any showcase on other races? just because they are the minorities, they don't matter whatsoever? and i thought kickboxing is thai?
i wager those demonstrators involved could possibly be from the chinatown(s) in and outside new york. after all the rest of 'em reveller's couldn't tell the diff, could they?
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
10 August 2004
PHYSICAL PROWESS
Having a beard bestows upon the grower the power to be good at physics.
overheard this from same sad miserable twit of a cow-orker who saw fit in hollering at fellow cow-orker from her cube farm:
cow: eh calvin you DIDN'T go to the d & d huh?
calvin: uh..
cow: why you didn't go? you said you going?
calvin: ...
if i were given three wishes right now, one of which is someone permanently disabling that twit's massive gob. or brain.
on second thoughts, she doesn't have much of a brain left to begin with.
for the silence, it's a public holiday today - the wee isle's 39th year as a "free" nation after yonks of brit rule, and then got booted out of the malaysian federation, blahyaddablah.
and as such, the letter b's grey cells are also on hols.
oh and may i add, they've brought back the policewomen bagpipers for the national day parade after a LONG absence.
yeah, the sight and sounds warmed the very cockles of me heart.
i'm amazed that at this day and age, there are folk out there who interpret foreign news completely out of context.
now, i have nothing against them giving their two penneth's worth on international current affairs. but to:
1. compare the disparity in standards/wealth/blah between the other party and theirs
2. and then proceeding to tell the blue marble how the other party are but a bunch of lucky sods just because
3. and worse, quoting the entire piece of "news" *without* even grasping the gist of it
it leaves me a totally poor impression of these gormless ameoba. and i thought 99.5% of wee islanders possessing third-world mentality is sad enough.
really, if you's have nothing brilliant to twaddle about, don't. don't get me wrong, it's not that i can't accept criticisms or alternative points of view. it's just that they simply weren't in the first place.
how could i forget to blah about this. the monthly great canuck tank-up canadian pub night is here again.
yay.
i meant getting meself refuelled.
as if the recent great demolition renovation done to this half of the workplace - ie: where i'm sat - is not damaging enough for me lungs, contractors are coming in later in the afternoon to clean up the carpeted flooring.
with industrial chemicals.
i think i'd better call in sick next tuesday.
conversation with cow-orker pertaining to the works do later today:
cow: eh letter b, are you going to the *d & d?
the letter b: no
cow: you'll miss out on the lucky draw you know, you may even win the top prize, i'm sure you will this time since some of us girls in the department have already won.. blahscreechblah
the letter b: i'm not hard up for the top prize
cow: uh..well you can take this opportunity to mingle with everyone you work with, like people from our department
the letter b: i work with you's 24/7 so i don't wish to
cow: nooooo, you can't say that, working and socialising is different you know
the letter b: i don't mix work with pleasure
cow: ...
that certainly shuts her gob up. miserable twit.
*d & d: wee island slang for dinner and dance
got into a wee "discussion" the other day with some mates that went: how come those chinese birds portrayed in hollywood "movies" tend to be called May/Mei Ling. or Ling. or Mei.
as if there ain't any other names to bandy about. perhaps there were but they could be a tad tongue-trickin'. or probably the chinese those producers chanced upon in real life happened to be a May/Mei Ling. that's why.
talk of which, a newbie who recently joined the department just next to mine is named May Ling. hence this blah.
it has been thought that jurassic era birds possessed dinosaur-like brains, given their skeletal structural similarities. however, recent studies on one particular species - the Archaeopteryx - revealed that they were far more developed, having "...the large brain and optic lobes of modern birds, not the brain of a dinosaur...".
so now i have to find a more suitable replacement to describe flighty ditzy females.
two major hooha's of mythical proportions involving workplace spastic's took place yesterday and early today. hence the complete lack of clever blah's.
and no, it doesn't help when the gaffer is one of said spastic's. anyhooo what matters most is my blood pressure's back to normal at this time of writing.
so watch this space. i may come up with something absolutely sarcy brilliant.
not going to name names, but i notice there are a certain minority on cyberspace going around picking on bloggers who spell differently from they do.
indeed, with such antagonising behaviour, is it of any wonder why certain armed forces personnel are prime guerilla targets somewhere in the middle east?
the metrosexual tosh has gone a tad far. especially over here on the wee isle.
apparently, 'em young males have gone mad by subjecting themselves to ultra girly past times like facials, manicures and pedicures. apart from throwing their dosh on branded threads and personal care wotsit. and then justifying their behaviour by saying that looking good gives them the extra boost in their confidence. or whatever remotely resembles it.
reet. it reminds of this mailer in my letterbox urging fella's to go pamper themselves at some neighbourhood spa. i draw the line at blokes dressing nice for work and summat, but going for facials and spas?
are they actually implying they are after all desperate to attract women, so one way is to show 'em birds that they do go the extra mile by paying attention to their physical aspects?
honestly, these twits have taken the word 'vanity' to new heights. besides making me - one who doesn't go for manicures, pediwotsit, blah - cringe.
off a column by a ditzy dolly in the daily morning freebie:
..a woman wrote in and asked me how to attract men... i shall hazard a guess: Men like long hair...
honey, you forgot to add:
1. men prefer birds to totter about in heels, the higher the better
2. men prefer birds in clothes that cover as little as possible
3. men prefer birds to titter like schoolgirls at their daft "jokes"
4. men prefer birds who are well-endowed around the upper trunks
5. men prefer birds who ain't specky's
oh, and most importantly, men prefer birds who have helium for matter in their noggin's.
so there. a surefire guarantee to get men. regardless even if yer an absolute minger. with bad teeth.
a horizontally-challenged woman doing a balancing act on a pair of spindly high heels this morning. on the path that runs parallel to my block of flats.
i was in a hurry to go to work, and there she was wobbling her way right before me.
so the weekend party wasn't a singles' get-together after all. it turned out to be a fortieth birthday do of a friend of a friend of a.. you's get the drift.
as i would have expected of parties hosted by expats, there were slags of almost every hue galore. including a couple of thais. i don't want to state the bleedin' obvious what came to mind when i first heard them gibbering in their high-pitch voices. i thought i might assumed wrongly until witnessing them shoveing their way to and from the drinks tent. without even looking up and acknowledging folk they passed by.
the arrogance? or simply blatant *asian* rudeness?
anyways, i must say it was an enjoyable outing as:
1. it was as if the entire turkish community was out in full force -> the birthday bloke's english and his wife, turk.
2. mind, turkish women are mindblowingly gorgeous -> they are now on my list of the cosmoverse's goddesses of beauty; apart from north indian, eastern european and french-canuck.
3. an ungenuine belly dancing act put up by a trio of wee island birds -> who got their moves all wrong. or as told by an 18-year-old lad.
4. a wee island male "stripper" had a near shoe malfunction -> and almost all birds present shrieked like loony banshee's on speed. good grief, i've had seen fitter, erm, blokes.
5. the turkish brand of islam is a refreshing change.
6. i finally got to witness my mate's girlfriend's true colours, who i all along suspect has the morals of a, erm, tomcat. or tabbycat, in this case.
7. ** ooh i can't resist to blah about this, she was leading said 18-year-old lad on who couldn't quite speak much english -> i'm not surprised if they did end up shagging the brains off each other. nay, there ain't any much brains left to begin with.
8. wee islanders have no common sense whatsoever -> witnessed one who lit up his ciggy inside the apartment without asking the host's permission. whatsoever.
9. i may after all have my first customers for my business -> erm, yay!
yeah, that sums up the event neatly.
* i know, quite an unoriginal heading that. nicked off madonna's hit of the same name.
** received her text message yesterday which contained the following lines: "...i had way too much fun at the club..." - we went to some dodgy trance music nightclub later in the evening - that's why i decided to blah about this wee episode. she had the effin' gall to even text me.
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
2 August 2004
CLONES AND TWINS
Cloning of humans is likely to lead to severe psychological problems for the cloned individuals. Knowing that another person exists who has the same genetic make up as you leads to emotional disturbances. Evidence for this can be found by looking at the behaviour of identical twins who are 64% more likely to commit crimes of violence - usually against the other twin. In fact, the third most common cause of death for identical twins is death at the hands of the other twin. In one case in ten, the twins both manage to kill the other.
wee island cow-orker sneezed her brains off. without covering her gob. nor uttering, "excuse me!".
indeed, i ought to start tallying up the number of sneezings from this cow per week; to see how much bacteria and germs she contributes to the workplace's ventilation system.
those overpaid mongs are at it again. this time, a footy magazine programme that was supposedly to be aired for the next consecutive three days are pulled out off *all* broadcast networks.
and they didn't realise until today that the workplace has no rights whatsoever to beam said programme across *500,000,xxx,xxx homes across asia.
of course i'm whingeing, 'cos my networks are affected. that's why.
complete spastic bastard's.
* exaggerated probable figures
UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
31 July 2004
THE WORM'S TURN
Under the latest beauracratic EU legislation, the use of earthworms will be outlawed from the beginning of this year's fishing season. Legislators have determined worms as "sentient beings", along with around fifty other creepy crawlies. The ruling, known as the Vermicological Code, puts the worm on the protected species list and introduces huge penalties for fishermen who continue to abuse worms. Apparently maggots escape the Code!