Wednesday, November 04, 2009
For the Love of GPS
Some boys prefer sappy love songs and poetry.Some boys prefer wine and roses. Some boys prefer leather and chains.
My proof of love comes a litle differently in the form of some good old GPS action.
Remember when I talked about the nifty car Charming Calvin purchased a while ago? Otherwise better known as charming outdoor decoration? Well the lil automobile that could doesn't move all that much, it might as well be an ivy-laden pergola.
Umm... I think I might be lost!
Till I took my leave of Calvin of course. Seems that his surprisingly independent car has been making the rounds lately. Of course I immediately pictured Calvin mapping out his route the night before with charts, maps and alternative paths. Mr Spontaniety he ain't.
So when I wondered blithely how to get back home while I was in the city ( with my car in the boondocks )...
Calvin : I'll drive you.
Paul : You're driving?
Calvin : I said it.
Paul : Wow. You said that without a single hint of passive-aggressive rancor.
Calvin : I now have GPS.
Paul : Global Positioning System? The one that costs a small fortune?
Calvin : My new baby. iBlair needs a sibling.
Paul : Wow. iBlair's barely walking yet.
At least we've somewhat resolved the big yellow taxi issue. Or totally avoided it.
So not only did Calvin manage the drive ( probably much against his principles! ), we were also accompanied by a deep-voiced basso profundo who gave us directions all the way. Our roundabout choice of routes confounded the poor GPS - who had to recalculate every five miles - but it finally managed to point us in the right direction. Oddly enough though the GPS fellow tried impressions with every change of language. Could have sworn the Hakka-speaking impresario sounded distinctly feminine.
Labels: Calvin, Relationships
Posted by savante at 6:25 PM
2 comments
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
In Omnia Paratus
Not all friends should mix.Another argument for keeping parts of my life separate and compartmentalized? I suddenly came to the realization that a large number of my friends - at least the ones I regularly share discourse with - are all affiliated with one another. Not only do we have an entire newsletter online keeping us informed of our goings-on every day, we also try our best to get together at least semi-regularly.
And that's all great.
Who should I call?
But like all friends, we do have our little squabbles. Far from the monumental handbag-slugging, hair-tearing catfights of Serena and Blair in Gossip Girl but it's close enough.
So you can imagine how impossible it is when you're feeling a lil pissed with no one to vent to. Not royally pissed that you need to demand am urgent confrontation at high noon but just angry enough to need an outlet. Over something so silly and embarassingly inconsequential that it needs just a quick queer rant to get over.
So who do you call?
School buddies are scattered all over and my uni mates are crazy busy at their respective hospitals. Without the prior history, my junior colleagues over here won't understand the conundrum so I'm stuck with my Lego figs to talk to.
Paul : I'm a psychotic bastard.
My ISO : Tell me something I didn't know. Wait, you called me just to tell me this?
Paul : I'm pissed.
My ISO : Did you miss your stale coffee this morning?
Paul : Let me vent, bitch.
My ISO : Can I skim through the daily news while you rant?
Paul : Yes. Forgot the papers today so butt in with some of interesting headlines.
My ISO : When you're done, can I then bitch about brainless clients?
Paul : Take a number.
Yes. In lieu of a newspaper, ex-boyfriends are surprisingly good for opinions and headlines. Not to mention the occasional comic section.
Posted by savante at 10:18 AM
7 comments
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Stealing Light
*Shhh*Speak of it to no one but it seems as if I've been breaking the law.
Thoroughly unbeknownst to me, I've actually been living on borrowed electricity. Well, borrowed as in my shady contractors have connected the power line without informing the source. Oddly enough, the said electric company doesn't seem to be in any hurry to correct the problem.
Let there be light?
Even when I found it timely to inform them a month ago that the power bill hasn't arrived in my post box for several months! Rather than call out the dogs, the call centre only told me to twiddle my thumbs and wait in the most cheerful manner.
So I decided to pay them a visit only to meet Neon Ninny - the surliest customer service personnel ever. With my insistent questions eating into her regular afternoon siesta, she was probably this close to frying me with an electric tazer. You can imagine how frustrated Ninny got when I pestered her to scroll through her lists for my account.
Neon : Seems like there's no registry of your application in our system, sir.
Paul : The forms were filled up three months ago.
Neon : But it's not in our system, sir. I checked twice. There should be no electricity at your place. It was cut off a year ago.
Paul : Oh. You mean the lamps I've been using are powered by magical moonlight?
Obviously that spark of humour didn't serve to amuse the sour-faced puss. Ah, the customer service in Miri. The envy of no one. Only slightly friendlier than uncouth barbarians blithely bashing skulls at the borders.
Far from offering any help, Ninny seemed more inclined to turn herself off. So I threw a minor bitch fit. My enlivening tongue-lashing certainly made her face light up like a neon light. Certainly gave her an electrifying shock.
Fortunately her immediate supervisor - who came running with apologies - proved far more benign.
Labels: Me
Posted by savante at 10:12 PM
9 comments
Friday, October 30, 2009
Don't Try This at School, Kids
You know those television ads where they warn kids not to try ridiculously dangerous stunts at home? As unpolitically correct as I am, well most of the advice I'd give should carry that very same warning. Seriously. Don't try it.Being the new girl in school, it's quite obvious that my lil niece Chatty Carmen is gonna have to deal with some chilly alienation at least in the beginning. They don't exactly call them mean girls for nothing. Forget about the welcome bandwagon, these nasty mini-socialistas aren't about to hand out free cupcakes for fresh newbies.
Ouch. Well, at least she didn't get egged like poor Jonathan did in Gossip Girl. Those Upper East Side mean girls can really pack a carton.
So what to do when a kid comes crying in such instances?
I know the sensible fatherly thing to do would be to wipe their tears and offer sage advice to passively turn the other cheek. It's the rational zen Jesus/Buddha/Gandhi thing to do. After all, such snotty, superficial bitch cliques wouldn't be the sort of crowd I'd want my child to have. There are many other children with warmer, generous hearts who would welcome them gladly.
At least that's what I would say. Though I would have to bite my tongue. Hard.
Since I'd want revenge so bad. I'd have gotten mad. And gotten even. Don't believe in taking such things lying down - short of having a hot fella on top. Although I might not have been the reigning Queen Bee in school ( even if there was such a thing in an all-boys school! ), I certainly gained a reputation for demanding an-eye-for-an-eye. And maybe a torn, bleeding ear so you learn not to step on my tail again.
Are we going to take revenge?
Such a sinful taste for vengeance certainly helped me remain largely unmolested throughout my school career. Getting egged? Back then, I would have dumped an entire garbage disposal of eggs and feathers down into your car. And your locker. And your schoolbag. And egged you twice.
Just to get even.
Not exactly what's been taught by the kindly Dr Seuss in his kid-friendly books. Hopefully I've grown out of that entire Spirit of Vengeance insanity. At least I do know I can't teach such horrific values to the impressionable children! Guess I'll have to bite my tongue!
Labels: Entertainment, Parenthood
Posted by savante at 9:21 PM
6 comments
Thursday, October 29, 2009
How Do You Solve a Problem
Like Nervous Nancy.Seems she takes just about everything casually. And I think it's time we put a stop to that. Isn't that casual attitude being carried just a litle too far these days? Seriously. Better to be overdressed than underdressed! Dressing in a cheap tee, tattered shorts and neon-coloured crocs for a day out can only be acceptable at a beach party, a night market - or if a recent disastrous fire has razed all your belongings.
Otherwise, no.
Gracious. Might as well strut about on the streets in ratty pyjamas.
How times have changed.
See what this apathetic insouciance has led to? Even weddings have become way too laid-back. At least for our unconcerned Nancy.
With a wedding set two months from now, she has neither invitation cards nor a guest list. Hell, she doesn't even have a proper venue for the momentous event.
Nancy : Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to find a decent table.
Paul : In your hometown? I seriously doubt it. Unless you're keen to toast to your wedding with teh tarik at a mamak stall? Maybe send instant messages to your guests for the place.
Nancy : Not that bad mah. You think I should get my dress done too?
Paul : At this rate, the only ensemble available for you should be the ones reserved for runaway teenage pregnancies and one-night-wedding skanks.
Isn't she in need of a proper lesson in marriage etiquette? Where have all the wickedly proper mothers-in-law gone? Have they all died out leaving me with the only specimen left?
I know folks are getting casual these days but it's getting a tad ridiculous when a hurried engagement's cobbled together in a couple of weeks. What happened to making the wedding day a once-in-a-lifetime event? A beautiful memorable occasion to be enjoyed by all?
Seriously, if it's such a bother why go to all that trouble anyway? Why not just stop off at the city hall on the way to work and purchase a certificate from the marriage machine?
And they say it's the gay men sullying the institution of marriage. Think again.
Labels: Issues
