Best left unsent

Dear Neighbour,

Please don't take this the wrong way, but I hope that you will put more clothes on the next time you dash out of your house to check whether you left something in your car. 

I understand that it was perhaps not your intention to emerge out on to the street in a pair of tiny black running shorts and nothing else. 

After all, you certainly did not intend to flaunt your HUNKY, WELL-TONED BODACIOUS BODY in front of an unsuspecting neighbour (i.e., me) who only wanted to draw the curtains.

However, I do understand that maybe your clothes don't fit you as well as they used to on account of all the bodybuilding and running you've been doing (the wonders of soy milk, eh?). 

Please accept my suggestion, though, that you should keep wearing those fitted tank tops; it can get pretty chilly in the evenings. The last thing you would want is to catch a cold and not be able to keep strutting around the neighbourhood in itty-bitty shorts exercising your pets. 

Oh yes, I've seen you walking your dogs, mister, and I've seen the pooper-scooper you carry. Who do you think you are, a responsible member of society?? I'm keeping an eye on you.

Peeping out from behind the curtains,
Me.

P.S. Please change your locks so that your parents won't be able to sneak in and tidy up your garden anymore. It's getting ridiculous.

Stray thoughts

I have an intense interest in gadgety things, but can never bring myself to buy any stuff because of the price attached to such shiny items. I guess that's why it costs what it does, right, because it doesn't just do what it's supposed to do, but also arouses jealousy and covetousness in thy neighbour while it does so. I mean, I might seriously consider some breaking and entering if I knew that my neighbour had a shiny curvy espresso machine, too.

Anyway, I was browsing the Lava Coffee site and found that they're opening a bricks and mortar cafe in Bangsar (OMG IT'S OPENING TOMORROW). It's called Antipodean Cafe, so I'm holding out in hope that we'll see one Mr Bana there one day.

So the owner(s?) chronicled the establishment of the new establishment as best they could, and there were pictures of the day they got their 15 kg Toper roaster (made in Turkiye). Judging from the pictures though, it looks like it weighs closer to 50 kg, given the size of the crate and what all.

Image used without permission from Antipodean Cafe, 20 Jalan Telawi 2, Bangsar Baru, Kuala Lumpur

... it actually means you can dump 15 kg of beans in there, doesn't it? Doh.

It's a marvellous looking thing (looks like a barbecue/smoker) made of metal with lots of buttons and levers and a chamber in to which all the wonderful aromatic intoxicating coffee beans will go and come out the other end smelling like heaven.

I'd hate to see the instruction manual though. There is one, right?

So, I was wondering: do the people who deliver and unpack this stuff ever want to try it out? If I had to deliver and assemble a thermocycler or spectrophotometer, I'd be pretty curious about what would happen if I pressed a bunch of buttons when no one was looking. Hehe.

There's nothing more fun than pressing buttons (aside from breaking shit); why do you think the fire department gets so many prank calls?

Things that sound really cool but are rarely applicable

The smaller the bird, the louder the song.

The volume of any overheard conversation is inversely proportional to its general importance (to both eavesdropper and participants).

Q (to a newlywed): So, how many children do you plan to have?
A: I dunno, we're still practising.

Q: Who's your favorite Spanish footballer?
A: Cristina Ronaldo.

She's a nice girl; just like a candy-coated razor blade.

Not quite the same

I found this trailer in the course of a search for images of Eric Bana. Naturally, comparisons with Hit Girl will be inevitable, but it's quite clear (to me anyway), that Hanna Heller and Mindy McReady operate on vastly different levels, alliterative names notwithstanding: 



P.S. It (Saoirse) is pronounced "seersha". We all know the Irish can't spell for nuts; look at the "Cillian" in Cillian Murphy. It took me a good 6 months to discover that "C" is pronounced as "K" if it's the first letter in a word.

It's probably good for you...

Maybe I've been doing too much "light" reading this year, but the wording in How The Dead Live (2000) by Will Self is making me go cross-eyed trying to keep up with the mental imagery. I'm sure it's a good thing though, as I can just about feel my neurons regenerate after being fried by excessive episodes of YouTube (what?). I feel so smart now that I could take on two fifth graders and win a million dollars. 


No, I retract that; I feel so smart that I could write better "jokes" than that bloody time-waster masquerading as a movie and calling itself "Funny People". I am wont to look on the bright side though, and am happy to have seen Eric his Bana-ness.

I'd like to see how he lives. Arf.

On the other hand, reading about Lily the unhappy wraith's travels and travails through life and afterlife might be a less than ideal start to the day. I mean, one can barely remember that the coffee grounds are supposed to go in the pot, and not held in your hand as you ready the hot water.

At the other end of the spectrum is one Mr. Gaiman, currently, and recently at that, married to one Ms. Palmer. I am currently annoyed at him for writing The Graveyard Book (2009). Yes, I know it's a "young adult" novel, but... the illustrations! That Newbery Medal has to count for something! It's people like him that keep people like me up all night; we lie to ourselves, saying, "Oh, just one more chapter," and it's already 5 a.m. and you need to be up and about all day, because it's what the living do.

Plus, he seems to keep getting new cool gadgety stuff for free and blogs it to tell readers how cool the stuff is (or isn't). I hate that dude, I really do.