Whee! Doing a stunt!

Hello, I blog!

I write with no particular theme in mind, because I am random like that.

Sep
02 2008

Mice with balls (It’s not what you think)

Indeed, it seems that technology advancements have pampered us all too much.

Take the optical mouse, for instance. Now, you can move that little cursor on your screen so freely, without the need to yank out the balls (har har har) of your mouse ever so often to get rid of the dust within.

I salute the optical mouse. It’s made my life so much easier ever since I got my first one in … 2005. Suddenly, Photoshop seemed three times easier to use, especially since I don’t have to CTRL-Z as many times when I do my illustrations and whatnot because that stupid ball within the mouse refuses to move again.

Perhaps this perfectly explains why I was practically tearing my hair out at Sakae Sushi this evening.

Some background knowledge. Sakae Sushi is a chain of restaurants located predominantly in Asia, serving sushi of all sorts at cheap prices. (At least, they claim to make sushi affordable – but with the recent price hike, I am starting to have my qualms.) The outlets provide computer screens with an attached mouse at every table from which you place your orders.

Apart from having to deal with the occasional soy sauce soaked mouse, and perhaps the mouse which has had its inner mechanisms completely whacked out by the previous occupant (most probably a kid!) spilling water all over it which I encounter ever so often – I also have to deal with the old, traditional wheel mouse.

Yes, the wheel mouse.

With the ball within.

I am guessing that they chose to stick with the wheel mouse because the mouse was in the shape of an adorable green frog which matched the restaurant chain’s logo really closely, and perhaps there was no optical mouse in a similar design.

But what’s the point of having an aesthetically pleasing wheel mouse, especially when the ball within simply REFUSES. TO. MOVE?!?

That wheel mouse was practically as useful as … a male mouse without any balls. (Err, okay. Corny, I know. I couldn’t think of anything better, considering all that is in my head now is nothing but mice, mice, mice.)

Oh, and the frog-shaped wheel mouse had two big eyes – which were actually the control buttons. And I found it extremely disconcerting to punch my fingers directly into the eyeball of a frog, real frog or not.

In a nutshell – placing one order of salmon sushi involved twenty slams of the mouse on the table (to dislodge the ball from it’s stuck position), another twenty attempts to move the mouse at least one centimetre (that’s the maximum the mouse will move before it gets jammed again) and countless frantic punching of the eyes … err, buttons.

Facepalm.

Someone should declare the wheel mouse a lethal weapon. It drives people mad.

May
09 2008

Guess who got locked in the toilet?

Had a family reunion-cum-hangout session at my aunt’s hotel room in Fairmont Hotel this evening.

Decent place, lovely view and the toilet was like whoa – white, classy and modern. Cousins settled on the bed with their eyes glued to the television set, while the adults settled at a nearby table for a round of cards.

That was when I decided to use the toilet. (For obvious reasons.)

Closed the door, latched it, did whatever I had to do, washed hands and then proceeded to unlock the door and get out.

The last two steps failed.

Stupid door refused to unlock. The stupid latch was jammed in place.

That was when I yelped, and sent everyone outside scurrying over to the toilet door. (At least, that was what I thought – because all of a sudden, I heard a lot of talking and footsteps outside my door.)

Then, I heard Aunty Olive yell.

“OH SHIT! I FORGOT TO TELL BRENDA NOT TO LOCK THE DOOR! THE LOCK IS SPOILT!”

Now, she tells me.

More murmurings could be heard from outside and I heard that apparently – my cousin David had been locked in this very same bathroom in the afternoon, and all efforts at prying the door open using normal means failed. Engineers had to be called in to force the door open with a screwdriver.

My Uncles then began using metal spoons to open the door in a similar fashion – but failed. The stupid door just refused to open.

Housekeeping was called to report the issue.

Ten minutes later, no one had arrived and I was starting to get really agitated. (Yes, I know that the toilet is all modern and classy and all, but I wouldn’t like to be stuck there for an extended period of time with nothing to do except for when I need to have a good shit, thank you.)

Uncles continued to fiddle with the door, and even my mum and my grandmother attempted to have a go at attempting to open the door. Of course – likewise, all attempts failed.

Housekeeping was called again.

Still, no one arrived. Those bums were taking their own sweet time to tend to this issue.

Cousin David attempted to keep me company from outside the door (and likewise, also attempting to pry the lock loose), but it’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone when you can’t even see his face. (Perhaps the same reason why I hate phone conversations.)

Then, one of my relatives dialed for the manager.

The doorbell rang within five minutes. More footsteps were heard as my relatives scurried over to the door. Then, I heard someone jiggling the handle, sounds of scraping metal and the next thing I knew – the door flew open.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of the story.

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