When time slows down

Roller chair vs Car
One of the very large dents. I would have submitted this to STomp! but they’re full of photos of cars with dents already.

It’s funny how smooth the roads are these days, just because the IMF and World Bank circus was in town recently.

But that didn’t prevent some very large debris from littering the road my brother was driving on, with him suffering a bit of shock and his car suffering dents the size of, well, very large dents.

As he recalled, everything happened in slow motion as he saw a chair – the swivel sort with wheels you’d see in an office – fall off the back of a lorry and break up into two parts as it hit the road. The seat part of the chair hurtled off safely in slow motion while the wheelie part went under another truck in slow motion, and was slungshot into the air in slow motion, where it remained suspended in slow motion for a few slow motion seconds.

There was a sudden loud crashing noise before my brother realised in slow motion that the wheelie part of the chair had landed on his bonnet and bounced off behind his car and onto the road behind him.

For all the slow-motioness that was going on all around him, he somehow had the presence of mind to give chase to the lorry, which was still in slow motion, or even slower, seeing as lorries generally move slower than cars. He got the lorry to pull over and spoke to the driver, who reluctantly gave his details and his company’s telephone number, whereupon my brother called the company and calmly explained what had transpired.

By this time, normal motion had resumed, and the lorry driver was extremely contrite.

A few normal minutes later, my brother mulled over what might have been if the wheelie or any other part of the chair hadn’t had that much luck of the bounce and gone through his windscreen in slow motion instead.

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One plus one is…

Thank you for helping me with Math

Thank you for helping me with Math II

If you wanted a glossary of beverage definitions, go no further than Olio Dome, because their menus are like that, describing to the last drop what you might order, just so you’re never in any doubt that a beverage like a double espresso actually contains two shots of espressos and not one. Because that would make it a single.

Same thing with the double cappuccino. Two shots, you know? Then it becomes a double, you know? And that’s a stronger coffee, you know? You order it if you like your coffee stronger you know?

Eh, how you know I used to be from the Department of Redundancy Department?

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Copywriter from hell (or just a really bad school)?

Think of toilet, think of you
No, think of wiping my backside, think of you.

“Think of tissue, think of us”, reads the tagline. I am certain this was written by the copywriter who wrote the equally memorable taglines for Caffe Roma, whose ads on taxi bumpers and buses read, “Less of Fat, Less of You”; and Nescafe Singapore (strangely no local site), one of whose ads reads “One Less Reason To Diet”, which makes sense, only if you’d go, ‘OK, so, Nescafe is one less reason to diet. Drinking Nescafe gives you one less reason to diet, so maybe the more I drink Nescafe the less reasons I have to diet. Ah fuck it! I’ll drink Nescafe all day all night (because I won’t be able to sleep anyway) and I won’t have to think about my diet at all’.

Or, you might go, ‘Hey Dad, you know what? Now got laxative coffee you know? Last time only got the laxative tea’.

Damn, the copywriter’s a genius.

Less of fat, less of you!
Less of fat, less of you!

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Always bring the weather

Brownie for a buck

It was really cold one morning last week, and I mean, like 24 degrees celsius type of cold. The type that makes you want to head out to a coffee kiosk and have a comforting cuppa coffee and an equally comforting piece of confection. Like a brownie or something, because they were going for $1. And that’s cheap.

You know how it is when you wake up some mornings and the weather’s dreary, and you find yourself telling yourself, ‘Man, what a gloomy morning, and man, do I feel gloomy too’?

Yah, so it was that kind of morning, cold, 24 degrees, hands in pockets, shuffling to the coffee kiosk, hair tousled by a stiff breeze. I ordered a black coffee from the kiosk for seventy cents, and contemplated buying the dollar brownie. But three sips into my beverage, a few beads of sweat formed on my nose, and it was no longer that kind of morning, but warm, stifling and uncomfortable.

It gets warmer as the day goes on, and next thing you know, you’re complaining about the heat, and wondering to yourself how people still order hot coffees and teas at the coffee stall across the street, and eat mee siam and mee rebus that you can no longer describe as steaming, because in this weather, if your bowl of noodles still steams, it’s gonna probably melt the bowl.

Gloomy in the morning, uncomfortable in the afternoon (or from late morning onwards), wishing for a late afternoon shower. These are things that one shouldn’t feel, unless one were a farmer or something and one really needed that thundery shower (isn’t that a great term for heavy rain?).

I mean, the weather really shouldn’t affect you otherwise, unless it caused flash floods, like the time I had a classmate in secondary school arrive really really late for his ‘O’ Level Mathematics paper, with still the best excuse ever: “I was swept into the Bukit Timah canal and had to walk back from Jalan Besar”.

Or like when my uni mates and I slept in fear of further hailstorms after the one that ripped through our suburb was classified as the most expensive natural disaster on record. Then again, that provided more of a perverse pleasure than any gloomy disposition, with weeks of stories that went like, ‘hey didja hear about that idiot Singaporean who went out with an umbrella because he hadn’t seen a hailstorm before and wanted to take a look?’ (he almost had parts of the umbrella embedded in his head, but was otherwise unscathed save for some bruises).

Yah, that was fun. In fact, we had further fun off that, because all you needed to do to freak a car-owning uni mate out was to pour a bag of marbles outside his apartment window, and count how long before he rushed out to cover his car with a blanket to protect it from the killer hailstones.


OK, what was it I saying about the weather?

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Something new everyday

The learning never ceases.

Thanks in no small part to samurai bunny, I learnt today that LVR stands for Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation, and not “Loose Vagina Reconstruction”, and which can be had, presumably for a fee, at Parkway Aesthetic Clinic, whose webpage title reads “Designer Labial Vaginoplasty(r) – Loose Vagina, Tighten your Vagina”, as if scolding you down there or something, in the same manner as “you better pull up your socks”, or “wake up your idea”.

Say goodbye to flappy days!

Oh dear.

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