Ok ok,

I hate clothes. I hate them, okay?

I hate the selecting, the trying on, the conversing with the sales help. There’s another oxymoron, sales-help. You’re either helping me or selling me but they’re not the same thing. I hate carrying shopping bags. I hate receipts. I hate tags, pins, labels, hangers, buttons, zippers, drawstrings, lapels.

I hate bleach, color-safe bleach, detergents, liquids, powders, tablets, stain lifters, stain fighters, stain neutralizers, special crystals, active ingredients, enzymes, whiteners, brighteners. I hate hot water, cold water, warm water. I hate getting $1 off. I hate getting 1/3 more FREE. I hate fabric softener and static cling, so I lose either way.

I hate detergents that are good for the environment, bad for the environment, not even aware of the environment. I hate carrying laundry bags. I hate dry cleaning plastic, people that work at dry cleaners, talking about my stains to the dry cleaner.

I hate and refuse to read any poster or notice about anything on the wall of the dry cleaner. If it was posted “We reserve the right to steal your clothes,” I wouldn’t care. I’m not interested. Just take the clothes. Just let me get the hell out of here and back to the world as soon as possible.

I hate clothes. I hate them.

Cheers.

ps: There is no such thing as dry cleaning.

Ok ok,

Do you think that the people at the airport that run the stores have any idea what the prices are every place else in the world? Or do you think they just feel they have their own little country out there and they can charge anything they want? “Little hungry? You want a curry puff? It’s 8 dollars. If you don’t like it, go back to your own country.”

I think the whole airport/airline complex is a huge scam just to sell the curry puffs. I think that curry puff profit is what’s supporting the entire air-travel industry. The planes could fly empty, they’d still make money. The terminals, the aeroplanes, the parking, the giftshops, and the sweet things at the information booths, it’s all just to distract you so you don’t notice the beating you’re taking on the curry puff.

The next time you are at the airport, observe.

I believe the closest thing that we have to royalty in Singapore are the people that get to ride in those little carts through the airport. Don’t you hate those things? They come out of nowhere. “Beep, beep. Cart people, look out, cart people!” We all scurry out of the way like worthless peasants. “Ooh, it’s cart people. I hope we didn’t slow you down. Wave to the cart people.”

The other people I hate are the people that get onto the moving walkway (flat escalators) and then just stand there. Like it’s a ride. “Excuse me, there’s no animated pirates or gay gorillas along the way here. Do your legs work at all?”

For goodness sakes, it’s not Disney Land.

Cheers.

ps: I’ve stopped flying. Always take the bus.

Ok ok,

I love to be on the move. Much more than I’ve ever enjoyed getting anywhere. Arrival is overrated. Moving is much more exciting. Its the journey, not the destination.

Planes, boats, cars, trains, feet, whatever. I just want to move. I think destinations were invented just so we all wouldn’t look like we were wandering around in a daze.

My all-time favorite form of motion is the car. I’m one of those people. I love cars. It’s the greatest physical object I’ve ever seen. i mean, the damn things a modern marvel worthy of its own coffee table book.

I don’t know why, really. My only theory is, when you’re driving, you’re outside and inside, moving and completely still, all at the same time. I think that’s something.

Cheers.

ps: Take it for a spin sometime, and you will see.

Ok ok,

Cheers.