Humour

The last blog post gave me some ideas of the possibility of writing a Love Compatibility software. However, I think I already can foresee the outcome.

Love possibilities: A humanitarian, a hunk, and a psycho cat

Here are the predicted results:







Sigh

Have been immersed in Excel Macro/VBA coding for the past few days and it has insidiously transformed me into a generator of horrible puns.

Case in point:

fren: i just had a very nice meal of yong tau foo. shop run by a former intel engineer
cc: wow
cc: from chips to taufu bits

Fren was tickled pink by that pun somehow and asked if I could code a miracle.

fren: i hear that excel macros are not that tough to code. but you need to know the inner workings
cc: yeah, the hateful functions and arrays
cc: the cell positionings
fren: heheh. like manouvering for a good placement in a love triangle
cc: hmmm
cc: dunno which is trickier
cc: coding or loving
cc: gosh, i think coding makes me churn out real bad puns
fren: )
fren: do you think you can code excel to calculate the probabilities of a love match?
cc: i am now comparing dates of interest maturity
cc: that's light years away from wat u r asking
cc: besides, if i knew the answer to yr question, i won't even be coding
cc: i'll be setting up shop right next to Lillian too's store in Mid Valley
cc: and get more customers too!

Honestly, I'd rather write pages and pages of flowery words than to write a few lines of code. Coding is turning me into the corniest puntist ever. So excuse me if I don't sound like myself for the next few days.

Ack.

End.

It's been a couple of weeks since my visit to Pornthip Sea Store and I finally decided to feast on the delectable Spicy Cuttlefish that I bought from there. I've been putting it off for weeks, mainly because it looked like a messy task to unpack it from its tight plastic wrappings.

So, anyway after a couple of weeks' worth of the silent 'Eat Me! Eat Me!' messages that the Squid sent, I finally succumbed to the temptation.

I brought it to the kitchen and began the messy task of unwrapping the cuttlefish. At first, the scent was barely noticeable. But as I tore the plastic wrappings wide open, the stank became unbearable. Like pots and pots of belacan and cencaluk all mixed together in a wok or something. I couldn't remember the last time I smelled a pong that bad. Phew!!!

And oh, my poor mom! She was gaily chatting with me when she suddenly grew very quiet and quickly took her leave from the kitchen.

"Are you sure you are going to eat that awful thing? How would your boyfriend react if you eat this in front of him?" she said from the safety of the dining room. Fingers tightly pinched on her nostrils.

"Mom, remember? I don't have a boyfriend. I just have... squid. Evil smelling squid."

I gave a baleful look at the strips of cuttlefish lying helplessly in front of me and took a tentative bite at one. Mmmmm... they taste great. And after a while, you kinda get used to the smell.

That's it, another great reason why being single is great. You don't have anyone to impress and you can eat all the foul-smelling sotong you want.

Squid, anyone?

Vagus took one look at my travelogue and came up with this.

and this

It looked so real that I just had to agree to blog about it. Suddenly I find myself endorsing things that I normally would faint upon. Hehe.

Guys! Or shall I say, this is what hairy legged docs do when they have too much free time.

Sigh

G-mail now offers a real nifty feature - Auto Save. So whenever you type out your missives and the power goes kaboom and blacks out, your mails would be auto saved as drafts. And you can retrieve them when you go online again. You need never lose a precious thought or word again! Cool, eh?

Now, my brother has this habit of making me go off-tangent whenever I yak with him. I'll be talking about some topic, and he will distract me with questions which I had to answer and soon I'd find myself going, 'Now, what was I talking about before we went off-track??" And then of course I would strangle the poor dude for making me lose my thread of thoughts.

In order to save his neck, my brother developed a skill quite akin to G-mail's auto save feature. Check out how cool B-Talk (Bro Talk) is:

Without B-Talk Auto Save

Me: So I got to know two new friends a few months ago. One was Kate and the other is Maureen and...

Bro: Maureen, wait... Isn't she the one with the afro hairdo?

Me: No, no, that's not Maureen, that's Karen lar.

Bro: And when did you meet Karen?

Me: Errr... two years ago, I think?

Bro: Why did she opt for that kinda hairdo?

Me: I dunno, I think she was just being adventurous kua.

Bro: I see, I see.

Me: Eh, why are we talking about Karen now? Where was I??

Bro: Errr... errr...

Me: Arggggh! I lost my train of thought! And it was about something juicy, too I think. You ar!!! strangle *strangle*

With B-Talk Auto Save:

Me: So I got to know two new friends a few months ago. One was Kate and the other is Maureen and...

Bro: Maureen, wait... Isn't she the one with the afro hairdo?

Me: No, no, that's not Maureen, that's Karen lar.

Bro: And when did you meet Karen?

Me: Errr... two years ago, I think?

Bro: Why did she opt for that kinda hairdo?

Me: I dunno, I think she was just being adventurous kua.

Bro: I see, I see.

Me: Eh, why are we talking about Karen now? Where was I??

Bro: Afro hairdo... Maureen... You made two new friends last month...

Me: Ahhh! Ok, yeah, well Kate and Maureen are the wackiest gals in town. Why just the other day, they made me do...yadda yadda yadda...

Pretty nifty, eh?

Though I suspect I shall find another reason to strangle him soon. Isn't sibling sparring so very fun?