Was it Thursday’s Straits Times front page (this link and the whole website it points to will self-destruct in.. wait… now?) that got everyone fiddling with their mobile phone’s calculator to measure their Blubber Mass Index?
There I was, this whole week, getting worked up over the gays cause AIDS issue and the why nobody reported the dengue epidemic issue, when all of a sudden I started asking people, eh, what’s your BMI? Fuck, I’m fat! Are you?
Not half as colourful as the way a reservist platoon mate puts it: Nabeh! Ang Moh always different standard! Pay also higher, BMI allowance also higher, Lan Cheow also bigger, fuck lah, like that how to compete?
Speaking of competition, a friend who’s an entrepreneur (no, not LMD) tells me that Ang Mohs are actually better customers than locals. They don’t haggle as much, and they don’t say stupid things like:
I came to your shop and it was closed. You should’ve put up a ‘CLOSED’ sign so I know it was closed.
to which my friend couldn’t help but respond with:
OK, next time I close I’ll put up a ‘CLOSED’ signboard so you, living in Clementi, will know that we are closed because you can see Chinatown from there.
This was the same customer who said:
I am coming at 11.30.
when my friend had said:
We open at 12.
I think they’ve got too much fat in their brains.