Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
Pointless rambles
So, I was supposed to have a meeting at 3ish today and the other person forgot. (Tsk. Heh heh.)
But all’s good anyway, because I have a mountain-load of stuff to do on my list and some free time will always be nice.
I got drenched making my way here, but it’s all right. I’m surrounded by people. Some noise in the room is always welcome, unless it borders on the point of being a major distraction – think wailing kids. Yes, that kind of extent.
And there’s free air-conditioning, electricity and wireless access for me to use!
Oh, did I mention that I got wet in the rain?
My shoes feels all slooshy, and my jeans were sticking to my legs like crazy. Plus, my umbrella was so abso-teeny it wasn’t enough to cover me and humongous haversack.
And well, I was also tilting the umbrella such that it covered my haversack more than me (because my precious ol’ laptop was in that haversack) – not that it helped, though, because the haversack was still soaking wet anyway – so yeah, you can add that on to the list of silly stuff I’ve been doing in recent days.
I am craving chips. Sour-cream and cheese Ruffles’, to be precise.
And I should be doing my work now.
Maybe I’ll get my chips later. Hmm.
Have you swam in the swimming poo today?
So, the original plan to hang around the poolside at Stef’s place – along with the occasional swimming (for the rest) and happy feet dips (for me) while we have some marshmallow and fruit fondue in between.
Unfortunately, certain incidents have occurred at the pool as of late and managed to thwart our plans.
Pool closure notice.
In case the text is not very readable, here is some help;
Pool closed for 2 weeks up to 30 April 2010 for maintenance – human poo found in pool.
(Please report to management office if you see culprit.)
Culprit will be prosecuted.
This has subsequently, let loose an avalanche of jokes.
Think “let’s hang out by the poo-side!”, “let’s check out the swimming poo!”, “we can’t go swimming in the poo today!” and “gosh, will the poo be smelly?” (For the very last one, it was uncertain whether the person was referring to the pool or the poo.)
Well, we didn’t manage to get our swimming poo-fix today.
Instead we had some really awesome pasta – along with live guitar playing, courtesy of Stef’s brother – beneath an umbrella-shade above the deck-table we were at, followed by marshmallow and fruit fondue (which was part of the original plan) for dessert.
And yes, we were seated by the poo-side.
Stef’s brother – live entertainment for the evening.
And no, the swimming poo was odour-less – in case you were wondering. (The odour that filled the air was that of the usual heavily-chlorinated scent that surrounds swimming pools.)
My cousin, the glutton
When my aunt, uncle and younger cousin returned to Singapore (from Vancouver, where the younger cousin was furthering his studies) for a visit a couple of weeks back, they brought with them a horde of goodies.
Sweets, biscuits, jellybeans and whatnot.
I am not really a sweets person, though I rummaged through the bags and bags of goodies out of curiosity. The aunt said I could take anything I wanted since the goodies were for all of is, but I still felt a little bad taking too much.
I ended up nomming on a few jellybeans, and chanced upon this really delicious milk candy (in a red wrapper) which I really liked. I ended up pocketing five of them, much to the delight of the aunt who kept beckoning me to take more.
I refused, informing her that I would be content with just five. After all, she had a huge packet available and I can always help myself to more in the future if I still wanted ’em.
The five pieces of milk candy I’ve pocketed were gone in a matter of two days, and I’ve been having a mad craving for them ever since.
A couple of days ago, I popped by my grandmother’s place (where they were staying at during their visit here) and dug around for more milk candy. Grandma and mum tried to assist but because they weren’t very good with recognizing brands, they could only work with the miserable description of “the small candy with the red wrapper”.
We dug about in the refrigerator, in plastic bags and in the various jars stored all over the living room. The search proved futile.
My cousin walked out at that juncture and we pounced on him, asking where the candy was.
“The milk candy?” he grinned at me. “The one with the red wrapper?”
“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” I screeched.
“Oh, no more!” says he.
I shot him a questioning look, and he rubbed his belly in response.
Damn. The younger cousin had wolfed down the entire supply of milk candy. The only milk candy I can now find in the house are traces of it in his pee or poop. Oh em gee.
Hmph. If I had known earlier, I should have just accepted my aunt’s invitation to ‘grab more’ and pocket at least half the original supply.
To Malaysia for three days with the extended family tomorrow. And yes, the glutton is going. But he’s a really lovable glutton, even though he polished off the entire milk candy supply.
So there. (;
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