ENTROPY - Design of Decadence: August 2003

Sunday, August 31, 2003

Should I stay or should I go?

Friday night I realized that there’s no such thing as a good decision … or a bad decision. There’s just … decisions. And every one of them has pros and cons.

The biggest con of my decision to leave is the fact that I’ll be away from my friends. All the great people I’ve met here, and who, in such a short while, have become a part of me. And honestly, on Friday night, I found myself wishing I didn’t have to go. Actually hoping I could stay.

This con sucks :(

But somewhere between being gifted the sexiest pair of underwear (accompanied with the most amazing personalized card I’ve ever received, some more) and almost being molested by friends (moppet looking on gingerly … I SAW YOU!), it struck me that Singapore is a place I’ll HAVE to keep coming back to. I don’t have a choice. There’s crazy measures of love here for me. Second home. Extended family. Nope, these phrases aren't good enough. Moreover, whether my friends stay here in Singapore, or find themselves abroad (I’m hoping YOU do, moppet and bob), we’ll find ways to meet. I’ve only recently realized that the world is only as small or as big as we make it out to be. What’s a couple of thousand miles and a few oceans between friends eh?

Also heartening is the fact that my future wife Eve is in very good hands until I come back for her in about 16 years. Ellen, my future mum-in-law, gave me a copy of ‘Reefer Madness’, a book about marijuana and pornography.

Nitin Sawhney’s set at Womad balanced things out. Took me back to childhood days when someone on one of the levels above would switch on his stereo early in the morning and some classical Indian singer would ‘digidi – digida - digidadada’ his head off until every soul on the 11th floor was awake and cursing the two of them. Only now, I understand why, despite knowing that all his neighbours were pissed at him, he kept at it every morning. Religiously.

‘Prophesy’, ‘Conversations’ and ‘Falling’ … serious gooseflesh stuff. Nitin Sawhney’s set was like … coming home.

Herman (referring to Devender, the vocalist) : Dude, WHAT is that guy high on??

And after tons of pictures, promises, wishes and jokes, there were a few words of wisdom that held it all together for me.

Christine : Nish, I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I’m hoping it’ll be soon. Till then, promise me that you’ll be the same blunt, straight-forward bastard that you are.

I will, C. I promise.

posted by n.g. at 15:23 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Thursday, August 28, 2003

As The World Turns.

Hello, and welcome to the news. In a recent poll, 90% Americans have declared that they would rather have their President fuck with his interns, than with the rest of the world. The reason cited was they would rather see ugly american women on CNN than ugly people from the rest of the world.

In Asian news, Pakistan has vehemently denied any involvement with the recent blasts in Bombay. The Defence Minister has gone on record saying "As much as we'd like to bomb and nuke India, we can't. Because the instruction manuals for all our bombs are in Chinese. However, our experts are currently in talks with the People's republic of Korea to try and translate them for us. Or at least show us where the 'Play' and 'Stop' buttons are."

India, however, will have none of this, and has called an emergency cabinet meeting on the issue. This extremely top secret meeting is happening at the Leela Beach Resort, Goa from 29th August - 31st August, and all major film stars are expected at the after party.

In Singapore, the Singaporean sense of humour that was seen writhing in excruciating pain and being carried to the Raffles Hospital a few years ago, has officially died. This happened about the time when our reporter was working out at the gym, and taking a breather between sets of bench press.

Beefy dude : Hey, are you relaxing?
Reporter : No, I'm Gurmit Singh.
Beefy dude : *Blank*

That's all we have for you today. Stay tuned for the all new sitcom, "Not another terrible local production" coming up next.

posted by n.g. at 11:52 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Cleanin' out my Closet.

Interesting stuff I found while cleaning out my cube this morning.

1. 2 small bottles of Marmalade
2. 1 unopened pack of strawberry hearts candy
3. Final draft of awful short story screenplay I wrote two years ago (possibly will be worth millions someday)
4. 1 Oral Stimulator and 1 Pump gifted by 'traumatic-childhood' friend on my birthday this year
5. VCD of Brian De Palma's 'Femme Fatale'
6. 1 pair of Umbro watches
7. Controversial pictures from Bintan trip with colleagues
8. 50 dollar Takashimaya voucher
9. 8 dollar mooncake voucher that expired last year
10. A cardboard box full of VHS tape taken out from its housing
11. My master showreel that I brought here from Bombay
12. Employee Handbook and Code of Conduct guidelines which I have yet to read and doubt that I will
13. 1 Wilson Tennis ball
14. 1 bath towel
15. VCD of The Eminem Show
16. 2 matchboxes from 'Hustler'
17. Ticket to the Suede concert
18. 1 Fann Wong poster
19. Xray of my Gall Bladder
20. Video tape of my Gastroscopy

Go watch 'A tale of two sisters'. Great story, very well shot, nicely directed and colour coded. Korean horror at its best. Proves my theory about parentage.

posted by n.g. at 11:28 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Monday, August 25, 2003

Blast from the past.

"Switch on CNN. There's been explosions in Bombay." CNN - "1 explosion in the CBD, 1 at the Gateway of India. 1 at Mumbadevi ... ". Frantically sms my friends. Try calling my father's cellphone. Can't get thru. Shit. Memories of 10 years ago, March 1993, Grade 10 final exams, answering my Hindi Literature paper. Suddenly, the windows rattled in the examination centre. Lame excuse of 'Furniture being moved upstairs' was given, to keep us from panicking. Only once the paper was over and everyone was outside did we realise that there'd been explosions. All over the city. A sea of parents, to pick up their kids. Rumours all around - 'so many' died. A petrol station blew up. The Pakis did it. Red alert in the city. "Everything is cancelled. Farewell party by Juniors .. cancelled. Movie and dinner with friends ... cancelled. Just, get home. And stay there." But how? No cabs. Buses ... too risky. The bus that I usually took home had been blown up and the route sealed. Traffic was insane. Sure, I could walk. Then, a friend hollered. Her father had managed to reach school from his office at the other end of the city. A whole bunch of us, pile into the car, shaken. The usual 15 minute journey took us 45 minutes. Pandemonium on the way. Crazy cops, road blocks, diversions. "There's been blasts in the CBD". Dad. Shit. Where was he?

After what seems like forever, we get home. Walk into the apartment to find, much to my relief (which I hid pretty well at the time) that he's sitting there on the sofa watching TV. He looks at me and says, "The bus that you take to get home, it blew up. At about the time that you take it. I was .... um .... worried". I know, so was I.

The next day, 90% attendance at offices and schools. The city recovered like a damsel been given mouth-to-mouth by Keanu Reeves/Antonio Banderas/'Fill-in-the-name-of-hunk'. Like nothing had happened. The stock market that had crashed yesterday, climbed steadily today. People everywhere, going on with life. Traffic on roads as usual. Corrupt traffic cops at signals sneaking a 20 from someone who had jumped the light. People rushing to catch the 8:24 local to work. Huge crowd of people outside Sterling Cinema at night ... no tickets. Show sold out. Normalcy.

Its tragic. People have died. But when the CNN newscaster said something about Bombayiites being a resilient lot, I couldn't help but smile. I'm proud of my city. I've seen her spirit overcome such tragic times. The '93 blasts. The '95 communal riots. (Watch Mani Rathnam's 'Bombay' for generous measures of goosebumps.) Sure, we've got our fair share of enemies, but they can only shake us. Not break us.

Finally, connect to his cellphone. "Hey! Is everything alright?" "What?" "I said, is everything ok?" "Oh yeah, there's been blasts here." "I KNOW! Thats why I'm calling to ...." "Listen we'll talk later okay? I'm having lunch."

posted by n.g. at 16:00 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Sunday, August 24, 2003

Pornograffiti.

Top 10 Pornos inspired by recent and not-so-recent releases. (Yashu, u are not to read this post. STRICTLY. Come back tomorrow. Because I say so.)

10. Womb Raider 2 - Lara Croft searches for a sex-maniac who's on a spreading-his-seed-spree. Serious save-the-world shit.
9. The League of Extra Horny Gentlemen - 7 horny pseudo super heroes get down to business.
8. Hard-On (In Japanese with English subtitles) - A severe curse affects every man in Japan, leaving them with permanent boners. (Waitaminit - that's pretty normal for Jap men innit?)
7. Illegally Spawned 2 - RW cheats on LW by screwing her dog, delivers a bitch, fights for custody and loses.
6. S.P.L.A.T - Self Explanatory.
5. 2 Chaste 2 Spurious - A bunch of no-goods look for chaste women in LA, without any success.
4. Harry's Daughter and the Sorcerer's Bone - Harry shags Hermione, who becomes the world's youngest mother, and their daughter and the sorcerer ... interact.
3. Talking Cock, The movie - The amazing escapades of a talking penis, straight from the horse's mouth.
(Singing Vagina, The Sequel, is currently under production.)
2. Privates of the Carribean - An indepth look at the genitalia of Carribean people, with extensive demos.

And the number one porno inspired by a recent or not-so-recent release is ...........

1. Vibrator 3 - Rise of the Machines. - Womankind does away with Mankind.

Do I hear the words 'movie deal'?

posted by n.g. at 19:51 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Saturday, August 23, 2003

Higher.

Grey clouds dissipate, the earth is wet. The tears are hidden. Blue skies appear and the sun burns bright. Skin is cold but breath is warm. Eyes dry like the bark of trees. Bright light shines and commends. Commands. The feet run. Its a message. Run harder. Run faster. Don't stop for breath. No more anticipation. It is time. It is now. Heart pounds inside the head. You have not been listening!!!!! Shut up. Keep running. Its an open road. Didn't it just rain? How is everything dry? You have not been listening!!!!! I said, shut the fuck up! Knees threaten to buckle like the twin towers. Stop running! NO! It has to be sweat that stings the eyes - there is no sunlight! Where's the sun? Where did that motherfucker go? Where are the blue skies? Why is it all grey again? You have not been listening!!!!! Stops running. Looks around. Where is the road? Where are the trees? Why is there nothingness all around?

Ha ha ha!!!!!

posted by n.g. at 16:48 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Friday, August 22, 2003

All evidence has been buried. All tapes have been erased.

"You know you're old when you see your friends' names in the Obituaries". A very old award-winning print ad for some Life Insurance company. A bit of an exaggerated analogy, this one, but I know that it'll soon be time to go, because the farewell lunches and dinners and dos and gifts have started. Or maybe everyone just wants to get rid of me in a hurry. Heh.

But seriously, it was at the back of mind that I'd be off soon, but realisation hits you when things start happening. When I tore up all the useless stuff in my cube, and stacked up all the paper to be recycled. When I went down to IRAS to file my IT return for this year, coz my last paycheck is stuck till I pay my taxes. When I was asked to brief so and so about the stuff that I'm handling, coz they're gonna be doing it until there's a replacement. When Herman went around the office with a twig in his hand proclaiming "Now that Nish is leaving, Mr. Twig is my best friend. Everyone, say hello to Mr. Twig." When Doc was having a problem with his ticket to KL, which is just a deep breath away, and I thought of getting around to booking my ticket. When I sat and made a list of the stuff I gotta buy back. When I contemplated about the kind of email that I should send her - "goodbye and take care" or "fuck you and rot in hell". When I looked at my showreel and realised that I still have to put my last three spots on it. When I looked up forex rates online and realised to my horror how strong the Rupee currently is. (Perfect fucking timing.) When yesterday, I was overwhelmed because a dear friend is off too. And when I finally started thinking ... seriously ... about how I'm gonna cart back my 270 CDs, 35 DVDs, all those books and the rest of my stuff.

The clincher was dinner last night with Jess. I remembered the first time I met her. We didn't even smile at each other, let alone talk, for a good 6 months when I got here. And then one day during lunch, queing up for rice and veggies, we got talking. And while digging into a HUGE indian meal last night which she took me to, I realised that this ... was probably the last time in a long time. The thing with Jess is, she listens. Patiently. To all my theories about everything from racism and the pros and cons of the developed world vs the developing world to how-to-bring-up-kids. She's got amazing patience. Maybe its because she's Aries too. I'm pretty sad I won't be able to attend her wedding. Just sitting there, talking with her and sipping Masala Tea, it sank in that a few more days and it's adios Jess. Adios all my great friends in Singapore. Adios, Singapore.

But, i've discovered Mr. Rob Zombie all over again. And realised that listening to nonsensical, infectious trash-rock is great to keep confusing, depresssing thoughts at bay.

And anyway, it ain't over till it's over.

posted by n.g. at 09:17 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Letting go is easier said than done.

Yesterday, while talking cock with Cheryl and laughing our heads off, suddenly, she looked away, into her computer screen and said, in a small voice, "Nish, don't go. Who's gonna laugh at such kinda jokes with me?".

Today, I'm feeling somewhat like SHE did yesterday.

It sucks when friends have to go away.

posted by n.g. at 13:16 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Is it just me or does everyone agree that most communication around us SUCKS??? The print ads you see, the commercials and promos that you're force fed inbetween movies and shows? Ever wondered why they're all so incredibly idiot proof and mundane and pukeworthy?

Take for eg this anti-drug campaign that's happening right now. Posters of some rabbit with terrible copy about how he took drugs and fucked his life up. Wha?! Rabbit? What's the idea there? If there IS one, i've missed the plot. And the Campbell's soup spot, with the kid camping out. I don't blame the kid for not being Al Pacino, but his mother takes the bakery. So incredibly wooden. And the twist-in-the-plot, is ... wuh liao way ... he's actually camping in the balcony of his parents' apartment.

They aught to have a Disclaimer before such spots. "Viewers are advised to keep barf bags ready."

Not that Singapore doesn't do good work. Take this amazing print campaign for Samaritans of Singapore, that made it to The One Show annual awhile back. Done by a writer called Robert Tsao (If I remember correctly) at DY&R. Copy that says "Become a maid in Singapore and be a part of the family." With the visual of a pregnant maid, with her face in her palms. Another one that says "In Singapore, maids are made to eat leftovers." With visual of dogshit. The body copy was long and well written.

For whatever it's worth, I like the Fairprice commercial. With the plastic bag flying around. It's been nicely shot. (Note the lovely low angle camera caressing the ground as the MRT zooms past above.)

The last piece of GREAT work I saw was the IKEA spot, where this dude is lying sprawled in his room, and some mafia goons burst into his home, threatening him with dire consequences if he doesn't give 'IT' to them. He looks around and says 'I don't know where it is!' Cut to a wide top angle of the room and you believe him - his room looks like Hiroshima after the bombing. Simple, precise sign off too - Storage Solutions? IKEA. Now that, was BRILLIANT.

But these are few and far between. The anti-smoking one where this man lights up on his balcony, and the smoke goes all the way inside his place choking his kids ... why make it so forced? I remember a really hard-hitting spot done by a British agency a few years back - camera blocked on a woman sitting with her little son on the dining table. And everytime she drags on the cigarette, HE exhales the smoke. Same message, executed brillaintly. And a tongue in cheek press ad done by Ogilvy Bombay - it showed the Marlboro man's horse dead on the ground with copy that said "Second hand smoke kills." Picked up two Lions at Cannes last year.

Bad communication interrupts your movie, pisses you off, makes you switch channels. And is eminently forgettable. What a waste of production and media budgets, but I bet thats something they didn't teach the client at Harvard/Princeton/Penn State whatever.

Good communication, you remember. OK I promise this is the last example for this post. I remember this really old spot, from when I was like, 11. A woman in her mid 20s, sitting on the bed of what appears to be a room in a nursing home. Expressions show that she's confused, bewildered, happy, curious ... in a state of suspension in time. A nurse enters the room, carrying the woman's new born baby, and places him in her lap. The expression on the woman's face is still the same, but now wrapped up in a look of sheer wonder. She looks at her baby and the baby looks back at her, his tiny eyes barely open. She touches the baby's little fingers. And the baby starts crying. The woman finally laughs, realisation sort of sinking in. And her eyes well up with tears of joy. The jingle, roughly translated, goes "I touched you with my eyes and I knew it had to be you." Product shot - Johnsons Baby Products. Simple, straight, no elaborate silicon graphics assisted product demo window, listing, in 5 seconds, the gazillion ingredients in Johnsons Baby Products that are so incredibly good for your baby.

Hats off to the actress, Shehnaz. And the director, Namita Roy Ghose at Whitelight, Bombay. The word 'Brilliant' doesn't do you justice. This was almost 15 years ago, and I wasn't even the target audience, but I still remember that spot.

Someone said that if a bit of communication doesn't move you, doesn't make you laugh or cry or smile or leave a lump in your throat or whatever, it has failed. Going by that, there's a lot of failed communication around us.

posted by n.g. at 12:51 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Sunday, August 17, 2003

Doc and I went down to the beach at East Coast Park today, coz we wanted to sorta relive the old days when we'd drive down to Marine Drive back home and smoke ... er ... just, smoke. After a bit, while in the middle of an increasingly interesting conversation about religion (Doc is a Brahmin, and these fuckers are supposed to be the highest order amongst the Hindus, but he smokes, drinks and wears red shoes*), I saw this little kid - probably 4 years old - on his first bicycle riding outing. He eagerly got on his bike, and before he could even move forward, BAM! He was down. His face showed that he was completely bewildered, like, he hadn't anticipated this happening. He immediately got on the bike again, moved slightly forward and BAM down again. This time it looked like he knew it was gonna happen, so the bewilderment had been replaced with a look that said "Ah you wanna fuck with me eh? I'm gonna kick your punk arse and make you wish you didn't leave that sorry factory in Malaysia". And he got on the bike again.

Which got me thinking, is it because we as adults KNOW that failure can happen, that we choose to not even TRY? Give it (whatever it is we wanna do) our best shot? Coz to kids, they don't KNOW that failure is even an option. Thats why they try. And succeed.

On a lighter note, here is the ....

MOVIE SOUNDBITE OF THE DAY !!!! (Applause, Whistles)

Scream 3, David Arquette to Courtney Cox Arquette (In Scream 2, she'd prioritised hosting some dumb arse TV show over being with him) : If you weren't so concerned with pretentiousness and appearances, you'd be able to appreciate the positivity and emotional centerdness I provide women.

Doc and I got into a long, detailed, reference-ridden discussion about this and after 2 minutes concluded that while men are often ready to unconditionally give their all to their women, women seldom do so, prioritising just about anything and everything over their men.

If you're a woman and want to kill me, please get in line.

On a heavier note, this bitch-ass song by early 80s bimbo Sabrina has been stuck in my head since Friday. It goes "Boys boys boys, i'm looking for a good time, Boys Boys Boys, I'm ready for your love ..." As if the song wasn't bad enough, it brings with it nightmarish memories of 3rd grade, hair with side-parting, ugly HUGE plastic spectacle frame and being forced to dance onstage with a girl thrice my size for the school annual day *Horror*

And you know what the worst part is? Nobody, not Radiohead, not GNR, not Sinead O' Connor, Not even the great Ozzy Osbourne, has been able to dislodge this punk-ass song from my head.

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

*Nothing wrong with red shoes, but they look kind of funny with black pants and a green tshirt that says 'Go fuck yourself' if read sideways.

More dope shit during the week ya'all (uh huh ... yeah)

posted by n.g. at 20:03 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Friday, August 15, 2003

She was the first person I saw when I walked into Tamade last night. Sitting near the head of the table. The chair next to her was empty. *Its a sign* I sat down beside her and with a casual toss of her petite head, she looked at me. And smiled. I melted. Nape length careless hair ... shy, naughty eyes, a childish smile and an infectious giggle. She continued to glance at me while she picked on her food, and suddenly she got out of her chair, and took my hand. We walked around the restaurant, holding hands, looking at the pictures on the walls, laughing together. Oblivious of the rest of our friends. I could feel everyone's eyes on her. On us, rather. We went back to the table, where my dinner had arrived. I picked at my food while some others tried to make conversation with her. But she wasn't interested. Instead, she took my hand again. We walked about again. Looking at the same pictures all over again, laughing at the same things we had already laughed at moments ago. Back to the table. My Sticky Toffee Pudding arrived, and she allowed me to feed her some. And just before leaving, she looked at me and said "I like you" and laughed.

I think I'm in love.

Azi : Awww look at Nish and Eve. Ellen, How old is she?
Ellen : She just turned 2.

posted by n.g. at 13:13 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Thursday, August 14, 2003

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen won't make it to my top 10 list, but it's quite a good film. Especially loved the CG of Dr. Jekyll turning to Mr. Hyde. Much better than the crap ass Hulk CG. Lee Ang is better at Chinese 'flying over trees aided by wire removal' dramas. But then, he also did 'Sense and Sensibility'. Hmmm.

Hazaar thanks to Naomi for the DVDs. "Shohei Imamura is, after Kurasawa, the best Japanese director ever." That's me! "No, Naomi, you're UMEMURA. He's IMAMURA."

Was listening to 'Walking On' by Ananda Shankar and State of Bengal at my cube when Jess came over to chat. (she doesn't pretend to be busy unlike most others.) And she quite liked the stuff. I was a bit surprised. It's strange music, what with wayward breakbeats giving way to crazy sitar riffs over a flowing indian flute all set to rumbling tablas. And the like. But she quite liked it. Said it sounded like "lots of little songs" put together to make longer songs. Which, actually, is pretty much true of the music. Though its kinda like calling a 'Tele-Marketing Executive' a 'Phone Operator'. It took them 3 weeks of rehearsal, and 4 weeks in the studio to record the album. And its wicked. If you've heard Ananda Shankar's or State of Bengal's other stuff and you like it, you gotta listen to this. It's amazing.

RIP Anandada.

I've got my exit interview tomorrow. Exit interviews suck. As if writing the resignation letter wasn't a true test of my diplomacy. I've gotta sit with the H.R Manager for an hour and answer questions like "So did u enjoy yourself here?". When I quit Lowe, I had told the H.R Manager the truth. "Fuck no, I didn't enjoy myself." Though I really appreciated the 4 types of coffees available and the amazing lunch menu that changed everyday, and the lovely spectacular sea-view mujra room on the 15th floor, from where we writers would call Client Servicing Executives and ask them to come up and dance for us while we sat on the mattresses and smoked and drank coffee like new-millenium maharajas. (Not that the CSEs ever did dance for us, these requests were always met with a flurry of expletives. CSE's should learn to say 'No'. It's simpler.) Anyway, I had told her that the place cramped me, and why it cramped me. She smiled and everything, nodded her head, thanked me for being honest yadayadayadayada. What did I get for all my openness? A week later when I emailed her for colour printouts of a campaign I had done for the H.R Department, and which my fuckwit art-director had trashed from his PC, she didn't even bother to reply to the mail. So much for honesty.

I don't know how i'm gonna tackle tomorrow's exit interview. See how lah.

Genie let out from the bottle, It is now the witching hour. The Gloaming/Radiohead

posted by n.g. at 12:51 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

A dear friend recently asked me why I didn't have a blog. And I told her I'd put one up when I start doing something of consequence with my life. And considering that I've quit my job and will soon be an ex-expat, I figure now's a good time to start one. (I've deliberated long enough - about quitting my job AND about starting this blog.) Coz a. It'll help me chronicle my last couple of weeks in Singapore and b. I have absolutely fuck-all to do right now. It usually happens when you quit your job. For people out there who have been lucky enough to not be in a 9-5 yet, this is how it works. You write an extremely polite resignation letter that does not state anything close to the real reason you're quitting. For eg if you wanna say "I'm beating this joint coz i'm not getting to do what i'm really good at and what i AM doing can really be done by anyone with one-tenth of a brain and i'm tired of waiting and contemplating and don't want to touch 30 and realise i'm stagnating.", you say "My term with ______ has been a learning experience but now I feel the time has come to move on and look for greater challenges." Like, greater challenges means going to the Himalayas, and praying to Lord Shiva for world peace whilst standing on one foot. Shit, If I read my resignation letter again I'll puke.

So after you've put in that fake-arse letter, you chill for your notice period, which usually is about a month. During this period, in most cases you have absolute fuck all to do. So you take three hour lunches and walk around the office pissing off colleagues who are frantically pretending to be busy, when really even they have fuck all to do. And you roll your eyes and nod your head at moronic colleagues who come up to your cube, point to the ugly foldable chair that the company gave to all employees on some stupid ocassion and say "Hey, if you aren't taking this chair back home, can I take it?" Sure you can. Knock yourself out. Give it to your grandchildren to make up for the lack of any remotely interesting stories about your life.

Nuff said for now.

posted by n.g. at 09:04 (0) Peg(s) of Whisky

Name: n. g.

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