Waiter, there’s too much food on my table

Waiter, there's too much food on my table

There is a restaurant where you get rewarded for being a nice customer.

Or at least, for being a customer who is nice enough to take time out to talk to the waiter about our HTC Touch phone which he was eyeing and wanting to ask about. When Naomi obliged by saying a couple of things about the phone and showing off the use-your-thumb to flick through the interface thing, the waiter (sorry dude, didn’t ask your name) pulled out a chair and sat with us to talk about the phone further.

I learned a couple of things as we chatted.

First, that customers are seldom as friendly as we were last night, and they wouldn’t take the time to explain a phone’s functions to a waiter, said the waiter.

Second, that you need to press the button on top of the phone when you make or take a call, so your cheek won’t anyhowly press the touch screen’s buttons.

But, no, it’s not because we were given a hefty ‘friendly customer’ discount that I’m plugging The Rice Table Indonesian Restaurant. I’m mentioning it because the food’s really quite good, and you get a lot of it for $20 per person.

Rijstaffel is the Dutch word for Rice Table, and it used to be popular only in the Netherlands.

At a rijstaffel restaurant, small portions of twenty different dishes are plonked on your table for you to eat yourself to death. You will like about 13 to 14 of those dishes, and then you will eat yourself to death. That’s how the Indonesians fought off the Dutch in their war of independence. They fed most of their colonial masters to death in 1945 and the surviving Dutch went home to legalise marijuana and prostitution.

If you must know, I learnt history from watching beauty pageants.

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The Sea-Monkey Diaries, Part Ten

No one's home

This is an announcement we’ve dreaded making. Our sea-monkeys are no more.

Actually, they haven’t been for a while since some time, and the colony expired some time during Naomi’s extended hospital stay (there were only one or two adults and a single baby left when she was warded in September).

We’ll be leaving sea-monkey ranching on the shelf (hahaha) for now though.

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Collective sigh

This evening when we went out to get a bite, we saw a notice posted at the basement car park lift lobby. I absent mindedly thought it was the old en-bloc attempt notice, but eagle-eyed Naomi saw that it was freshly photocopied A4, and took a further interest in reading it.

We didn’t have to read much other than this:


It seems enough of the hitherto dissenting owners finally caved, given the possible cooling off of the property market.

It’s a real pity because Naomi and I really, really, really like this apartment we’re renting, and we’ll be sad when we move out, because they’re gonna build one of those huge monstrosities with thousands of people living under the same roof (or two, depending on how many huge monstrous blocks they can fit into this lot).

There’s a sliver of hope yet, as the new en-bloc regulations (which came into effect last month) allow for a cooling off period of five days, so that owners can still change their minds about their consent.

Serves me right for making en-bloc jokes. I’m sorry ok? Please change your minds. Don’t sell!

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Halloween en blocked

Pollinated Jake

No, the yellow stains on Jake wasn’t because we were dressing him up for tricks or treats. Neither did he soil himself.

The stains are from him brushing up against pollen from a bouquet of lilies. So, if you buy a bunch of these flowers and put them in a vase because you think they look and smell nice, it’s useful to remove the whatsits that hold the pollen, even if you don’t have a cat that tries to spread the stuff all over himself and the house.

As far as Halloween is concerned, no-one turned up at our door this year, even after we took the trouble of fixing the doorbell and buying a bunch of candy (ok, one bag) from the supermarket. I dunno. Maybe the kids are taking a leaf out of adults’ blaming en-bloc for everything: “Haiyah, en bloc already lah, you think they’ll fix the lift?”; “Haiyah, en bloc already lah, you think they’ll have candy for trick or treat?”

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