Oh I just had to!
Stolen from The Goth Mom
----------------
Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow ((Hey Oh))
via FoxyTunes
Stolen from The Goth Mom----------------
Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow ((Hey Oh))
via FoxyTunes
7 Dec 2008
5 Dec 2008
The Day I Answered to Stupid
The day I claim intelligence, remind me of this day.
There is this new phenomenon across the Us that makes Americans lazy, as if they were not lazy enough to begin with. It's called the Redbox. It does sound like something that should come with a parental advisory warning, but it's actually kind of harmless.
A Redbox is a free standing red box (duh!) that dispenses DVDs. It's got a 'stupid guide to renting / returning a DVD from / to a Redbox' which looks something like this:
Now how hard can that be, given that you also have these instructions on the DVD. All you need is a credit card.
It says - 'return to redbox with side facing you'. With a very big Insert and arrow sign
So JP, my very sweet host goes to return the DVD... obviously after my famous film watching methods. Hours later, he comes back with the film. I of course ask him all the basic questions - Was the DVD facing the right way, did you select 'Return A DVD' on the menu....You would think this is obvious. But no, with JP nothing is. I will dedicate another post just for him. Yeah, he requires a whole post entire about him. We are talking about a guy gets lost 1 minute after driving out of his house on the way to the grocery store, or who makes me walk around a whole complex because he cannot remember where he parked the car. And being man, he would not take directions. A story for another day. As I said - very sweet. He assures me he did, and adds that there were many others that could not return their discs too.
I, the all-knowing one, offer to return the DVD. He drives me to Wal*Mart, which is where we the redbox is located. I leave JP in the car as I go work my magic. Confidently as I can, I walk to the kiosk. I follow all the instructions, insert the DVD and wait. 5 seconds later it rejects it. I try again, and again, and again and for good measure, again.
I walk back to the car and between JP and I, we manage to convince ourselves that the box has a problem. We go through the day's motions, and just before dinner, we decide to give it one more shot. The thing with Redbox is, you pay a dollar for any extra day you stay with the film after 9 pm. I get on my Blackberry and search for other Redbox locations. As luck would have it, I can access the webpage BUT i cannot do a search for the locations! We drive to Piggly Wiggly, Food Lion, name it. Finally, we pack outside the former and JP gets on phone to reach the customer service. We drive to McDonald’s, while he still on phone, because I remembered a mention about them being located at a McD's. I walk in to McD's and ask if they have a redbox. The look on the cashier's face is priceless. If I didn't already look ludicrous asking that question, I would have taken a picture of him. I spent a few minutes explaining what it is, and all through I’m thinking - if he does not recognize the name and the disc within the first glance, me spending 5 minutes explaining what it is will not help. Back to the packing lot, JP is still on phone, 20 minutes and counting.
Finally! He gets through. He explains that we rented the movie on Monday, tried to return it on Wednesday, and today, twice. She goes ahead to ask him the same questions i had asked him. That agitates him even more. She asks for the barcode number on the disc, I read it to him and she gives it to her. The lady on the other side asks if he is outside a redbox. He says no, we are about 5 miles away from the nearest one. And his voice is not the sweetest at that point. She patiently explains that he needs to be at the location so that she can manually program the box to accept the DVD. Does she have a direct line so that he does not need to wait 20 minutes again to get to her when he gets to a Wal*Mart? No, he has to call again. But, if he selects the Spanish option, he will get connected faster. Whatever. He hangs up and we drive to Wal*Mart. JP is seething. He goes on and on how he will never use a Redbox and how that company defrauds unsuspecting clients. I join him in working out how they are defrauding people using their cheap advertising of $1 a day movie rentals. I even work out how if they made it hard for people to return the movie, and they had about 50,000 people across the country fail to return by a day, and then they make $50,000 that day from credit cards. I'm such a genius, I think!
We get there, there is a guy at the machine, and he manages to rent a movie. That does not make sense. How can it keep dispensing if it cannot take back? I try once more. Nothing changes, still rejects. By now, JP has worked himself into a little ball of really really tight wool. Standing at the entrance of Wal*Mart is a little lady of about 80, complete with an employee tag. JP actually asks her for help. I try not to laugh as the little old lady ambles over. With her frail little hands, she tries her hand at what JP regards as the bane of his existence. JP is busy trying to tell her that we already tried everything we could think of, but she does not listen. Inwardly, I’m thinking, if it works for the little old lady, JP will surely shoot himself. But knowing his luck, he would probably miss. Luckily, it doesn't work. He leaves me at the kiosk and goes to look for customer service, guns blazing and all. As I stand there fiddling with the on-screen buttons, this 200-pound 13 year old kind walks over, talking on his cell phone about his new xbox.. I move over and let him return his. What do you know! His is accepted!
All along, I have been questioning what JP and I are doing. I have been thinking that we are doing something wrong, but cannot figure out what. We are following all the instructions...At the back of my mind, I'm thinking, If this machine has had a problem since yesterday, granted the number of people who use it, by now, it would either be closed, or we would have very irate customers lined up at the customer service desk. Given the hard economic times, tempers are running really high and patience wearing thin. And considering the fact that its $1 each day you keep the movie, that is money no one wants to waste.
The kid can obviously tell that I have been there a while. Without getting off the phone, he takes the DVD from me. He tells whoever is on the phone that he should consider ask for payment from Redbox, what with the many numbers of people he has been helping out. Apparently I'm not the first person that day he has helped!
So, he takes the disc from me, gives it a look over and shakes his head. Casually, he says 'The barcode should be facing the other side' and flips open the disc, turns it and shuts it again. Walks over to the machine, presses 'Return a Dvd' and voila! It is done.
JP and I have been returning the disc case facing the right way, but the disc inside facing the wrong way. It was being rejected because the machine could not read the barcode. Great. Now I have to go look for JP. I kinda don’t want to find him, because I feel really bad that I will have to tell him that it worked, yet I’m very sure he has been raising hell at the customer service. I meet him and the CS lady walking back to the box. He immediately sees that I don’t have the disc with me. The expression on his face goes from 'what the fuckety fuck did i just do' to ‘You gotta be kidding me' to ' oh, well'. He apologizes to the CS and we leave.
I explain to him what happened, and what we were doing wrong. He tries to feebly explain to me that he did try that buy I can tell that those are a dying mans’ fight for air arguments. As we drive off to diner, all he can say is how stupid he must have looked going off on the poor CS lady and how they now have him on camera. He is now worried that Wal*Mart will send out a warning to all grocery stores about this crazy white guy who cannot follow simple instructions….
There is this new phenomenon across the Us that makes Americans lazy, as if they were not lazy enough to begin with. It's called the Redbox. It does sound like something that should come with a parental advisory warning, but it's actually kind of harmless.
A Redbox is a free standing red box (duh!) that dispenses DVDs. It's got a 'stupid guide to renting / returning a DVD from / to a Redbox' which looks something like this:
Now how hard can that be, given that you also have these instructions on the DVD. All you need is a credit card.
It says - 'return to redbox with side facing you'. With a very big Insert and arrow signSo JP, my very sweet host goes to return the DVD... obviously after my famous film watching methods. Hours later, he comes back with the film. I of course ask him all the basic questions - Was the DVD facing the right way, did you select 'Return A DVD' on the menu....You would think this is obvious. But no, with JP nothing is. I will dedicate another post just for him. Yeah, he requires a whole post entire about him. We are talking about a guy gets lost 1 minute after driving out of his house on the way to the grocery store, or who makes me walk around a whole complex because he cannot remember where he parked the car. And being man, he would not take directions. A story for another day. As I said - very sweet. He assures me he did, and adds that there were many others that could not return their discs too.
I, the all-knowing one, offer to return the DVD. He drives me to Wal*Mart, which is where we the redbox is located. I leave JP in the car as I go work my magic. Confidently as I can, I walk to the kiosk. I follow all the instructions, insert the DVD and wait. 5 seconds later it rejects it. I try again, and again, and again and for good measure, again.
I walk back to the car and between JP and I, we manage to convince ourselves that the box has a problem. We go through the day's motions, and just before dinner, we decide to give it one more shot. The thing with Redbox is, you pay a dollar for any extra day you stay with the film after 9 pm. I get on my Blackberry and search for other Redbox locations. As luck would have it, I can access the webpage BUT i cannot do a search for the locations! We drive to Piggly Wiggly, Food Lion, name it. Finally, we pack outside the former and JP gets on phone to reach the customer service. We drive to McDonald’s, while he still on phone, because I remembered a mention about them being located at a McD's. I walk in to McD's and ask if they have a redbox. The look on the cashier's face is priceless. If I didn't already look ludicrous asking that question, I would have taken a picture of him. I spent a few minutes explaining what it is, and all through I’m thinking - if he does not recognize the name and the disc within the first glance, me spending 5 minutes explaining what it is will not help. Back to the packing lot, JP is still on phone, 20 minutes and counting.
Finally! He gets through. He explains that we rented the movie on Monday, tried to return it on Wednesday, and today, twice. She goes ahead to ask him the same questions i had asked him. That agitates him even more. She asks for the barcode number on the disc, I read it to him and she gives it to her. The lady on the other side asks if he is outside a redbox. He says no, we are about 5 miles away from the nearest one. And his voice is not the sweetest at that point. She patiently explains that he needs to be at the location so that she can manually program the box to accept the DVD. Does she have a direct line so that he does not need to wait 20 minutes again to get to her when he gets to a Wal*Mart? No, he has to call again. But, if he selects the Spanish option, he will get connected faster. Whatever. He hangs up and we drive to Wal*Mart. JP is seething. He goes on and on how he will never use a Redbox and how that company defrauds unsuspecting clients. I join him in working out how they are defrauding people using their cheap advertising of $1 a day movie rentals. I even work out how if they made it hard for people to return the movie, and they had about 50,000 people across the country fail to return by a day, and then they make $50,000 that day from credit cards. I'm such a genius, I think!
We get there, there is a guy at the machine, and he manages to rent a movie. That does not make sense. How can it keep dispensing if it cannot take back? I try once more. Nothing changes, still rejects. By now, JP has worked himself into a little ball of really really tight wool. Standing at the entrance of Wal*Mart is a little lady of about 80, complete with an employee tag. JP actually asks her for help. I try not to laugh as the little old lady ambles over. With her frail little hands, she tries her hand at what JP regards as the bane of his existence. JP is busy trying to tell her that we already tried everything we could think of, but she does not listen. Inwardly, I’m thinking, if it works for the little old lady, JP will surely shoot himself. But knowing his luck, he would probably miss. Luckily, it doesn't work. He leaves me at the kiosk and goes to look for customer service, guns blazing and all. As I stand there fiddling with the on-screen buttons, this 200-pound 13 year old kind walks over, talking on his cell phone about his new xbox.. I move over and let him return his. What do you know! His is accepted!
All along, I have been questioning what JP and I are doing. I have been thinking that we are doing something wrong, but cannot figure out what. We are following all the instructions...At the back of my mind, I'm thinking, If this machine has had a problem since yesterday, granted the number of people who use it, by now, it would either be closed, or we would have very irate customers lined up at the customer service desk. Given the hard economic times, tempers are running really high and patience wearing thin. And considering the fact that its $1 each day you keep the movie, that is money no one wants to waste.
The kid can obviously tell that I have been there a while. Without getting off the phone, he takes the DVD from me. He tells whoever is on the phone that he should consider ask for payment from Redbox, what with the many numbers of people he has been helping out. Apparently I'm not the first person that day he has helped!
So, he takes the disc from me, gives it a look over and shakes his head. Casually, he says 'The barcode should be facing the other side' and flips open the disc, turns it and shuts it again. Walks over to the machine, presses 'Return a Dvd' and voila! It is done.
JP and I have been returning the disc case facing the right way, but the disc inside facing the wrong way. It was being rejected because the machine could not read the barcode. Great. Now I have to go look for JP. I kinda don’t want to find him, because I feel really bad that I will have to tell him that it worked, yet I’m very sure he has been raising hell at the customer service. I meet him and the CS lady walking back to the box. He immediately sees that I don’t have the disc with me. The expression on his face goes from 'what the fuckety fuck did i just do' to ‘You gotta be kidding me' to ' oh, well'. He apologizes to the CS and we leave.
I explain to him what happened, and what we were doing wrong. He tries to feebly explain to me that he did try that buy I can tell that those are a dying mans’ fight for air arguments. As we drive off to diner, all he can say is how stupid he must have looked going off on the poor CS lady and how they now have him on camera. He is now worried that Wal*Mart will send out a warning to all grocery stores about this crazy white guy who cannot follow simple instructions….
19 Nov 2008
8 Oct 2008
A Raw Deal
We have this lengthy debates, DVP and I as to what we should eat, where, e.t.c. This is mainly because i don't care much for food and well, he.. he does. The man likes his food.
Whether he has to go head to head with it, he will still eat it.
Our food debates should be something the Americans sits down to watch. I never finish the food on my plate. I think it is genetic flaw. Thus, anything i order, has to be something that DVP will want to eat, as he HAS to clear my plate. This, as much as it is a good thing (not wasting food and all that), reflects badly on my hard earned lady status, especially in the restaurants we frequent.
We have perfected the art of exchanging plates, the mafia could learn a trick or two while switching briefcases. And i should stop watching those horrible horrible films...Note to self.
Often, the waiter will come around our table and suddenly, the plate that was in front of me almost untouched is sparkling clean, and DVP's... well, almost still full. He will do a double take and give me that look. You what what look. I know not to worry as I am paying for the food, and where they indicate the time it takes to prepare on the menu does not indicate the length of time i should spend not that same food. Back to my story.
We decide to break our sushi virginity. And we pick Misono, famed to be the best in Sushi making, un-cooking, preparing... whatever they call wrapping raw fish. We drive into the restaurant's parking and the minute we approach the entrance to the restaurant, a Kenyan girl in a Kimono hits the gong. I'm halfway running back to the car when DVP announces that that is a welcome dong. Sounded to me like those they play just before the Master slices your head off with some chopstick. Again, the movies I watch!
We walk inside and suddenly hit by the sweetest aroma of some grilling thing. Definitely not rice. We are at crossroads. One side was the grilling centre, the other was eat your food before it realises its dead centre. A waiter stopped us half way. 'The grilled section is this way' He said.
Yeah, we looked like grilled food people. Maybe the can smell the type of food you eat when you walk into that Japanese restaurant. And all we gave out was auras of grill-ology.
We sit in the raw food section, and take the menu. None of the Yaki-s, taka-s, make any sense to us. The waiter has since abandoned us. I bet he left snickering... ' The fools, they want sushi? let them figure the menu out first! After a couple of minutes, i contended defeat and called for help. The waiter went through each item and after he was done, I had forgotten what was what. To be safe, we asked for the 'boat' which contained a little bit of all their food.
We sat back and waited. Now, forgive me for being deliberately obtuse, but it thought the food would take all of 2 minutes. I mean, how hard can it be to put a raw fish on a plate? You see, in my mind this is how a sushi kitchen looks like this :
Yes, an aquarium shop. I do not envision stoves, or chefs dressed in funny white hats and white coats sweating under the heat. nope. I only see this Japanese guy dipping his hand in and out of aquarium, snapping the heads of the fish, and sending the waiter off on his jolly way to my table. All variables remaining constant, i.e. no traffic situations between the kitchen and my table, i expected to have the food faster than I could say sukiyaki. I more than said sukiyaki, i learnt the whole Japanese alphabet, i also learnt that the Japanese anthem has the oldest lyrics/text from the ninth century, but the music is from 1880 and it is expressed in only 4 lines. After about an hour, i figured that maybe the fish were on strike and were fighting back or they they had ran out of aquariums and had to ask the neighbour (who happens to be the Sri Lankan ambassador) , if they could serve me his pet fish. Finally, the raw food that took forever to prepare, arrived. I was blown away...
In some eerie way, that boat gave me disturbing images. Of being out at sea, capsizing and the fish having a ball. And the food on the boat being me...and my sailor friends. hrumph! the shivers!
Then it hit me why the food took so long. The chef had to count the rice in each bundle and make sure it was exactly the same number!
I let that boat sail. Still almost full. It was a shame really. But it did smell funky. No offense. My brief flirt with raw fish ended there. Any food that looked like it was going to reform and rejoin like those bones in hte bible, and walk away from my plate...or slither in this case, was not something i wanted to eat. I sat there, waiting for it to walk, slither, flip away... it did not. After DVP and i established that fish dont play dead, we tried it. I wish it had grown wings and flown away. A perfect excuse, and also gets me out of paying. Do not get me wrong, i did like some but not a whole dinner out of it. Sushi, medarlings, is an acquired taste and a raw deal for that matter.
I think you can get sushi here though!
Whether he has to go head to head with it, he will still eat it.
Our food debates should be something the Americans sits down to watch. I never finish the food on my plate. I think it is genetic flaw. Thus, anything i order, has to be something that DVP will want to eat, as he HAS to clear my plate. This, as much as it is a good thing (not wasting food and all that), reflects badly on my hard earned lady status, especially in the restaurants we frequent.We have perfected the art of exchanging plates, the mafia could learn a trick or two while switching briefcases. And i should stop watching those horrible horrible films...Note to self.
Often, the waiter will come around our table and suddenly, the plate that was in front of me almost untouched is sparkling clean, and DVP's... well, almost still full. He will do a double take and give me that look. You what what look. I know not to worry as I am paying for the food, and where they indicate the time it takes to prepare on the menu does not indicate the length of time i should spend not that same food. Back to my story.
We decide to break our sushi virginity. And we pick Misono, famed to be the best in Sushi making, un-cooking, preparing... whatever they call wrapping raw fish. We drive into the restaurant's parking and the minute we approach the entrance to the restaurant, a Kenyan girl in a Kimono hits the gong. I'm halfway running back to the car when DVP announces that that is a welcome dong. Sounded to me like those they play just before the Master slices your head off with some chopstick. Again, the movies I watch!
We walk inside and suddenly hit by the sweetest aroma of some grilling thing. Definitely not rice. We are at crossroads. One side was the grilling centre, the other was eat your food before it realises its dead centre. A waiter stopped us half way. 'The grilled section is this way' He said.
Yeah, we looked like grilled food people. Maybe the can smell the type of food you eat when you walk into that Japanese restaurant. And all we gave out was auras of grill-ology.
We sit in the raw food section, and take the menu. None of the Yaki-s, taka-s, make any sense to us. The waiter has since abandoned us. I bet he left snickering... ' The fools, they want sushi? let them figure the menu out first! After a couple of minutes, i contended defeat and called for help. The waiter went through each item and after he was done, I had forgotten what was what. To be safe, we asked for the 'boat' which contained a little bit of all their food.
We sat back and waited. Now, forgive me for being deliberately obtuse, but it thought the food would take all of 2 minutes. I mean, how hard can it be to put a raw fish on a plate? You see, in my mind this is how a sushi kitchen looks like this :
Yes, an aquarium shop. I do not envision stoves, or chefs dressed in funny white hats and white coats sweating under the heat. nope. I only see this Japanese guy dipping his hand in and out of aquarium, snapping the heads of the fish, and sending the waiter off on his jolly way to my table. All variables remaining constant, i.e. no traffic situations between the kitchen and my table, i expected to have the food faster than I could say sukiyaki. I more than said sukiyaki, i learnt the whole Japanese alphabet, i also learnt that the Japanese anthem has the oldest lyrics/text from the ninth century, but the music is from 1880 and it is expressed in only 4 lines. After about an hour, i figured that maybe the fish were on strike and were fighting back or they they had ran out of aquariums and had to ask the neighbour (who happens to be the Sri Lankan ambassador) , if they could serve me his pet fish. Finally, the raw food that took forever to prepare, arrived. I was blown away...
In some eerie way, that boat gave me disturbing images. Of being out at sea, capsizing and the fish having a ball. And the food on the boat being me...and my sailor friends. hrumph! the shivers!Then it hit me why the food took so long. The chef had to count the rice in each bundle and make sure it was exactly the same number!
I let that boat sail. Still almost full. It was a shame really. But it did smell funky. No offense. My brief flirt with raw fish ended there. Any food that looked like it was going to reform and rejoin like those bones in hte bible, and walk away from my plate...or slither in this case, was not something i wanted to eat. I sat there, waiting for it to walk, slither, flip away... it did not. After DVP and i established that fish dont play dead, we tried it. I wish it had grown wings and flown away. A perfect excuse, and also gets me out of paying. Do not get me wrong, i did like some but not a whole dinner out of it. Sushi, medarlings, is an acquired taste and a raw deal for that matter.
I think you can get sushi here though!
18 Sept 2008
What Nairobi Women are made of
Warning - Some images might be disturbing.
I know that I walk around some Nairobi streets clutching my handbag as if my heart is hooked to it. That when my phone rings, I stop, look around nervously then slowly take it out of the bag. I then turn myself in to an impenetrable ball of human flesh and weakly croak- 'Hello'.
Gets so bad at times, that I will keep checking if my ipod is still in my pocket, even when I'm still listening to it. You never know with Nairoberry thugs. They'd steal the ipod and somehow, leave me with the illusion that I'm still listening to music. I shudder at the thought.
So this one evening, walking in town, taking very good care of my bag, pushing through the crowds. I'm tiny.. and walking in crowds is really annoying. Everyone is like up there, breathing all the fresh air and I have to walk under there, my nose in line with their asses. Cosmic joke if you ask me. That would be me in the red circle.
I know you are wondering where my bag is... but trust me, this is the best way to be in a crowd in a Nairobi bus station. Ensures you are rob-free. Oh, others were wondering where my clothes are? Gee, don't you have better things to wonder about? Ignore the fact that the crowd is Asian.. It was Hug-an-Asian Day then, so they all came out.
So here I was, minding my own business with this American dude who thinks it's awesome to be caught up in a Asian Hug galore. He spends his time fighting sofas in his house and making these and these music videos that might get US banned from the G8. I don't think he particularly cares about that anyway. Hi idea of fun is making co-corporate videos for airports who do not care about his work. No one has had the nerve to tell him that that is not a career. Yet.
Back to my story.
So we are walking in town - and there is this commotion, people shouting, blood somewhere... Being the American that he is, he said something like 'I'll be right back' or ' I got your back', but this is what i actually saw when i turned to look at him
I do believe that he was running to get the cops. Or showing me where to run to safety. Or he just got this urge to just run. Don't we all do that sometimes...
I moved nearer, camera in hand. First sight...
At first, i thought i had just walked into a movie set. With really good make-up but really bad crowd control. But when the young star reached out to me...
...I knew that he did really not want be in this low budget film. That no one had told him that he would be doing his own stunts. There were about 100 men (yes, males) standing around him... not participating. I wanted to know who was inflicting this on him. Then i saw her.
I wanted a better look. A woman, not more than 26 years old, was beating the crap (or the robbery) out of this man.
Look at her hand! What had the man done? snatched her phone. In normal circumstances, a woman would scream for help. Not this one. This woman ran after the boy, through traffic, and caught up with him.
I did not stick long enough to know what happened. Usually, such scenes end with this...I have seen one end like that and that is one thing i still wish i had never watched.
Off i went to look for the American...
This Angel would have fallen worse had she been here
I know that I walk around some Nairobi streets clutching my handbag as if my heart is hooked to it. That when my phone rings, I stop, look around nervously then slowly take it out of the bag. I then turn myself in to an impenetrable ball of human flesh and weakly croak- 'Hello'.
Gets so bad at times, that I will keep checking if my ipod is still in my pocket, even when I'm still listening to it. You never know with Nairoberry thugs. They'd steal the ipod and somehow, leave me with the illusion that I'm still listening to music. I shudder at the thought.
So this one evening, walking in town, taking very good care of my bag, pushing through the crowds. I'm tiny.. and walking in crowds is really annoying. Everyone is like up there, breathing all the fresh air and I have to walk under there, my nose in line with their asses. Cosmic joke if you ask me. That would be me in the red circle.
I know you are wondering where my bag is... but trust me, this is the best way to be in a crowd in a Nairobi bus station. Ensures you are rob-free. Oh, others were wondering where my clothes are? Gee, don't you have better things to wonder about? Ignore the fact that the crowd is Asian.. It was Hug-an-Asian Day then, so they all came out.
So here I was, minding my own business with this American dude who thinks it's awesome to be caught up in a Asian Hug galore. He spends his time fighting sofas in his house and making these and these music videos that might get US banned from the G8. I don't think he particularly cares about that anyway. Hi idea of fun is making co-corporate videos for airports who do not care about his work. No one has had the nerve to tell him that that is not a career. Yet.
Back to my story.
So we are walking in town - and there is this commotion, people shouting, blood somewhere... Being the American that he is, he said something like 'I'll be right back' or ' I got your back', but this is what i actually saw when i turned to look at him
I do believe that he was running to get the cops. Or showing me where to run to safety. Or he just got this urge to just run. Don't we all do that sometimes...
I moved nearer, camera in hand. First sight...
At first, i thought i had just walked into a movie set. With really good make-up but really bad crowd control. But when the young star reached out to me...
...I knew that he did really not want be in this low budget film. That no one had told him that he would be doing his own stunts. There were about 100 men (yes, males) standing around him... not participating. I wanted to know who was inflicting this on him. Then i saw her.
I wanted a better look. A woman, not more than 26 years old, was beating the crap (or the robbery) out of this man.
Look at her hand! What had the man done? snatched her phone. In normal circumstances, a woman would scream for help. Not this one. This woman ran after the boy, through traffic, and caught up with him.I did not stick long enough to know what happened. Usually, such scenes end with this...I have seen one end like that and that is one thing i still wish i had never watched.
Off i went to look for the American...
This Angel would have fallen worse had she been here
3 Sept 2008
Partying Gothic
In a couple of weeks, i turn a quarter of a century. It feels like just the other day, I was doing this
No, i was not drowning, I was trying to have a birthday party - by the pool. It did not occur to me that alcohol and pools do not mix, or if you really have to, then you need to make sure that your guests are natural floaters.
Yep, that is what I'm talking about. Buoyancy. Space for me to enjoy my party without having to jump into a pool now and then to save some stupid drunk. I suddenly think that Phelps
learnt his trade by attending pool parties. If he had pool parties like that one of mine, say 5 years in a row, that man had no choice but to be the best at it. I think that was his driving force. His Aphrodite. I'm tempted to think this was his mental image
I was tempted to have another pool party this year, with the exception of the water. That thought had a lifespan of about 10 seconds before i got this thought flash
Ok, not what i want to deal with. Would rather find this in my pool. Easier on the mind...though kinda harsh on the eye.
So I decided to have a Goth party. After all, i came into this world crying and shit. I'm talking about those people that think that "American Gothic" is a portrait . I figured that I'd have some Emo kids over, that way, they'd sit around, crying and hating life and not keep asking me where the drinks are. And if i get a power black-out like in my last party, I would not run around sourcing for generator. They are happy just embracing the darkness, being in their element.
I have learnt thought that my party is being referred to as a big 'Haunt'. This is the explanation i was given by Andrew Eldritch.
Whichever the case, what could possible go wrong when hanging out with a bunch of kids of just want to die? Any disaster would be welcome relief for them. They will probably cry throughout the party at how much 'fun' is being had. After all, don't they dot their i's with frowny smileys and called a smiley smile an 'inverted smile'?
I do know that they are baking me this cake though.
By the way, i invited Phelps to the party, and told him the theme. Guy asked if he can show up dressed in this...
Told him no. He insisted it was black. Spent a couple of hours trying to explain the difference between gay and goth.
More goths are partying
No, i was not drowning, I was trying to have a birthday party - by the pool. It did not occur to me that alcohol and pools do not mix, or if you really have to, then you need to make sure that your guests are natural floaters.
Yep, that is what I'm talking about. Buoyancy. Space for me to enjoy my party without having to jump into a pool now and then to save some stupid drunk. I suddenly think that Phelps
learnt his trade by attending pool parties. If he had pool parties like that one of mine, say 5 years in a row, that man had no choice but to be the best at it. I think that was his driving force. His Aphrodite. I'm tempted to think this was his mental image
I was tempted to have another pool party this year, with the exception of the water. That thought had a lifespan of about 10 seconds before i got this thought flash
Ok, not what i want to deal with. Would rather find this in my pool. Easier on the mind...though kinda harsh on the eye.
So I decided to have a Goth party. After all, i came into this world crying and shit. I'm talking about those people that think that "American Gothic" is a portrait . I figured that I'd have some Emo kids over, that way, they'd sit around, crying and hating life and not keep asking me where the drinks are. And if i get a power black-out like in my last party, I would not run around sourcing for generator. They are happy just embracing the darkness, being in their element.I have learnt thought that my party is being referred to as a big 'Haunt'. This is the explanation i was given by Andrew Eldritch.
A Haunt is limited from one to four, because that's the number that can sit in an apartment room or middle sized dorm without crowding, or the number that can creepycrawl an abandoned building without startling the ghosts or arousing outside security (if they're careful), or the number of goths who you can call your best friends and who haunt your heart forever.
But that was corrected immediately after by Zac, who insisted that that would be Dearth. More than thirteen, more than you can count when your head is spinning from one too many Sampoerna Xtras and that last snakebite you had. Hope you're not on medication. Nightclubs always have a dearth of Goths. You should remember Zac from MmmBop. I heard that that was their fall from goth. That one song.
I think this is what i will get in my house on that day
..or not. I think these ones are called Scientologists. Or Joseph Smith-ers. Can never tell the diference really.
Whichever the case, what could possible go wrong when hanging out with a bunch of kids of just want to die? Any disaster would be welcome relief for them. They will probably cry throughout the party at how much 'fun' is being had. After all, don't they dot their i's with frowny smileys and called a smiley smile an 'inverted smile'?
I do know that they are baking me this cake though.
By the way, i invited Phelps to the party, and told him the theme. Guy asked if he can show up dressed in this...
Told him no. He insisted it was black. Spent a couple of hours trying to explain the difference between gay and goth.More goths are partying
