Love at First Web Site
Monday, August 18, 2008
I cracked myself up today at work.
We got a message from HO in the UK asking us to delete some incomplete addresses in our customer database - they had sent brohures out, and some had been returned. My colleague noted that they were silly enough to send them out without checking the addresses first.
So this week's experiment was to change one of the addresses to "Mir Space Station", postcode "Space" and see if they would notice. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, at the thought of the look on the faces of those humourless French girls at HO receiving a brochure, Returned To Sender, that they attempted to send into space. Oh my god I'm cracking up right now.
But alas, I was advised to change it. My colleague and I were discussing what would happen to me when the humourless French ladies in HO discovered my transgression. I would either 'get the sack' (not completely unlikely, if you have ever experienced their unique brand of humourlessness) or never get promoted. As we had this conversation, my boss walked in and enquired as to what we were discussing, so I confessed, and she strongly advised that I change it. So, before I did, I printed out the entry, and have glued it into the inside cover of the front desk diary, for future giggles. ¶ 19:40 0 Comments
We got a message from HO in the UK asking us to delete some incomplete addresses in our customer database - they had sent brohures out, and some had been returned. My colleague noted that they were silly enough to send them out without checking the addresses first.
So this week's experiment was to change one of the addresses to "Mir Space Station", postcode "Space" and see if they would notice. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed, at the thought of the look on the faces of those humourless French girls at HO receiving a brochure, Returned To Sender, that they attempted to send into space. Oh my god I'm cracking up right now.
But alas, I was advised to change it. My colleague and I were discussing what would happen to me when the humourless French ladies in HO discovered my transgression. I would either 'get the sack' (not completely unlikely, if you have ever experienced their unique brand of humourlessness) or never get promoted. As we had this conversation, my boss walked in and enquired as to what we were discussing, so I confessed, and she strongly advised that I change it. So, before I did, I printed out the entry, and have glued it into the inside cover of the front desk diary, for future giggles. ¶ 19:40 0 Comments
Friday, August 15, 2008
Dumplings
A Personal History in Reverse Chronological Order
The Shanghai Night waitress hands me the white plastic bag containing 8 dumplings in a takeaway container, a portion of vinegar and soy sauce, a serviette, and a fork. (A fork?) As I slide open the door and venture back out into the wind, I panic for the dumplings packed tightly into the container with nowhere for the steam of the steaming dumplings to go. I debate two options: eat them as soon as I get in the car? My car is parked in the Ashfield shopping centre car park, where parking is free. Wait till I get home? I opt to delay the gratification, at the cost of the freshness of my steaming dumplings. In the car, I have one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on the precious cargo sitting quietly on the passenger seat. I must lift a corner of the container to allow the steam to escape! Please don't let steam build up inside amongst them, and stick them together where they touch.
I am booked in for a trip to Tainan on my free Saturday in Taiwan. I see myself, however, sitting on a luxury 'limousine bus' to Taichung. I see myself suprising the owners of the kim chee dumpling eatery in Donghai villas.
"Speak some Chinese" says Kuba, smiling, as the waitress approaches our table. Chinese-speaking performance anxiety is low, and I order a large plate of pork and chive dumplings - (boiled). And a spicy cabbage. Not a whole cabbage, just a la bai cai. Hot White Vegetation. Eating dumplings at a table for two in Shanghai Night once or twice a week is a ritual for Kuba and me in the lead up to my trip to China. I get excited about the upcoming trip. I tell him to come with me. I ignore the reality that he will be leaving while I'm gone. I wear my purple jacket and feel quirky and happy.
The Thai girl, whose first makeover was performed by me in a hotel room in Kending, a resort town on the southern tip of Taiwan, guides us to a packed eatery in the Donghai villas. Shaun and I had never even noticed it. We always went to the places that sold meat and three veg style meals. We never had dumplings together, in fact. We sit at picnic-table-like tables. The bench-seats are connected to the greater table. She motions for us to follow her to a table next to the wall. I wonder what she is doing. There is a bloody huge pot of kim chee in the middle of the table. Self-serve using the tongs on the table. We tong little tongfuls of kim chee onto a small dish taken from the pile. Note the industrial-sized clear plastic sachet of pre-prepared kim chee next to the pot. Back at the table: fuck, this is good. Sweet and tangy. The dish is too small! The dumplings we collect from the window to the kitchen once our numbers are called create a new regular customer in me. I go back every week for several miniature plates of kim chee and the dumplings. "Just 8? Come on!" in it's best Chinese equivalent. "No no!" I laugh, look concerned, and pat my belly. (Justifiably). "I'm cutting fat." The general population of Taiwan, which was petitioning to have me join step aerobics classes and persuading me to decrease my intake of Dove bars, never argued back. ¶ 19:32 0 Comments
A Personal History in Reverse Chronological Order
The Shanghai Night waitress hands me the white plastic bag containing 8 dumplings in a takeaway container, a portion of vinegar and soy sauce, a serviette, and a fork. (A fork?) As I slide open the door and venture back out into the wind, I panic for the dumplings packed tightly into the container with nowhere for the steam of the steaming dumplings to go. I debate two options: eat them as soon as I get in the car? My car is parked in the Ashfield shopping centre car park, where parking is free. Wait till I get home? I opt to delay the gratification, at the cost of the freshness of my steaming dumplings. In the car, I have one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on the precious cargo sitting quietly on the passenger seat. I must lift a corner of the container to allow the steam to escape! Please don't let steam build up inside amongst them, and stick them together where they touch.
I am booked in for a trip to Tainan on my free Saturday in Taiwan. I see myself, however, sitting on a luxury 'limousine bus' to Taichung. I see myself suprising the owners of the kim chee dumpling eatery in Donghai villas.
"Speak some Chinese" says Kuba, smiling, as the waitress approaches our table. Chinese-speaking performance anxiety is low, and I order a large plate of pork and chive dumplings - (boiled). And a spicy cabbage. Not a whole cabbage, just a la bai cai. Hot White Vegetation. Eating dumplings at a table for two in Shanghai Night once or twice a week is a ritual for Kuba and me in the lead up to my trip to China. I get excited about the upcoming trip. I tell him to come with me. I ignore the reality that he will be leaving while I'm gone. I wear my purple jacket and feel quirky and happy.
The Thai girl, whose first makeover was performed by me in a hotel room in Kending, a resort town on the southern tip of Taiwan, guides us to a packed eatery in the Donghai villas. Shaun and I had never even noticed it. We always went to the places that sold meat and three veg style meals. We never had dumplings together, in fact. We sit at picnic-table-like tables. The bench-seats are connected to the greater table. She motions for us to follow her to a table next to the wall. I wonder what she is doing. There is a bloody huge pot of kim chee in the middle of the table. Self-serve using the tongs on the table. We tong little tongfuls of kim chee onto a small dish taken from the pile. Note the industrial-sized clear plastic sachet of pre-prepared kim chee next to the pot. Back at the table: fuck, this is good. Sweet and tangy. The dish is too small! The dumplings we collect from the window to the kitchen once our numbers are called create a new regular customer in me. I go back every week for several miniature plates of kim chee and the dumplings. "Just 8? Come on!" in it's best Chinese equivalent. "No no!" I laugh, look concerned, and pat my belly. (Justifiably). "I'm cutting fat." The general population of Taiwan, which was petitioning to have me join step aerobics classes and persuading me to decrease my intake of Dove bars, never argued back. ¶ 19:32 0 Comments
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Also, every time I go to Target, the item at the checkout ends up being much cheaper than the marked price. It has happened about 3 times in the past 4 weeks. Amazing. Anyway, I got a new skirt for the office for $13.50.
¶ 22:09 0 Comments
I hereby wish peace and serenity upon everyone. Ommm, et al.
¶ 22:08 0 Comments
