I am The Lady With The Foam Cowboy Hat.
That was my costume.
I gave out candy to a total of three kids and two adults.
They all lived across the street.
We live on a small street.
postscriptâ€â€jay would like to say for the record that he drew the hello kitty face FREEHAND on the pumpkin, but dot would like to claim credit for thinking of using the bow cutout as the ears
I could not stay away from those Rat’s Tail Noodles, so I returned for more.
This time, I tar pao’d. [Hokkien term meaning "takeout" food, according to Talking Cock's Singlish dictionary.]
I have mixed feelings about American tar pao.
Its elaborateness makes me homesick for those 1-cent plastic bags that everything is tar pao’d in in Singapore, plus over here, they always give KNIFE, fork and spoon to eat noodle soup, which is so thoughtful. And look out for those two fortune cookies, because at the portions they are serving Americans, I sure am eating for two.
On the other hand, the ziplock is a nice touch. And though you can’t see it, that tiny text on the side of the paperbag reads For your safety, please refrigerate as soon as possible. Together, Ziplock and Friendly Reminder represent the best in “Please Don’t Sue Me Because I Use Ziplock And I Instruct You To Use Your Common Sense” American takeout food care. When people sue for hot coffee spillage, and clumsiness in supermarket aisles, you want your bases covered.
The million dollar question, of course, is How Did It Taste?
Frankly, the first time was better. I think my shock in seeing the noodles for the first time in Seattle made it so much yummier then. This time? Neh.
I blame the fork.
Erm, I’m not sure what to say at this point.
Please, hide your children and the weak of heart.
This is the scariest thing since Hello Belt.
Guess what happened?
Guess!
You’d never guess!
But if you did, how did you? What on earth gave it away?
So those I Heart Office stickers come true after all, huh.
The building management decided that a basket of free candy would sweeten the pain of leaving our offices in the middle of the day in the middle of the week.
So wait, let me get this.
You make us leave work for no reason (other than a fire drill), get free candy for no reason (other than a fire drill) and chit chat aimlessly for no reason (other than a fire drill), and you’re sorry you interrupted us?
Shame on you.
But er, how’s next Tuesday looking? I’m wide open. Have your people call my people. We’ll pencil another one in.
Let’s face it. The world revolves around Jon Stewart.
How do I know?
Because every blog entry IN THE WORLD can be traced back to The Daily Show. In six degrees. Or less.
Eat your heart out, Kevin Bacon.
For example, take this blog entry. Why, it references Jon Stewart at least three times and has a photo to back it up. The fact that it’s an entry about the said connectivity of one Jon Stewart is mere coincidence!
Hmmm. Let’s say we look at something completely random, something far from Seattle (or Singapore!), something like, I dunno, like a blog post by Australian newspaper The Age’s Craig Platt?
His post about Jon Stewart, plus a link to my blog post referencing Jon Stewart, has got to be a double whammy winner. I mean, that’s a reference within a reference.
Wait! Don’t walk away now.
Please? I was just getting started.
Can you hear me now?
Now?
What about now?
Can you hear me now?
To the tune of The Star Spangled Banner, inspired by tonight’s episode of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, when he unveiled the latest concoction to come from Jimmy Dean
â€â€with sincere apologies to John Stafford Smith & Francis Scott Key
Oh, say can you see by the stick’s pretty sight
What so proudly we hailed at the pancake’s last wrapping?
Whose big meat and choc chips make it delicious and right
O’er the sausage it wraps and so tastefully dripping?
And the pancake’s tight wrap, and the chips bursting in flour,
Gave proof through the bite that the flavor was still there.
Oh, say does that choc-spangled meat taste bad?
O’er the land of the free and the home of the fat?
She sings songs. Jazzy songs. Jazzy love songs. Jazzy love songs that sound a lot like each other. Jazzy love songs that sound a lot like each other, differentiated only by the number of times Love, Waiting for Love and Love Me are mentioned.
The man on his knees was making a “low-budget music video that would be up on YouTube in a few hours.” Her words, not mine.
Her fans in the crowd cheered mightily. Don’t ask me why I was there.
As many of you know, my “musical” tastes run the, ahem, very varied gamut of Sting to stand-up comedy (is that even considered music) to news radio (there are musical intermissions?). At least that’s all I have on my iShuffle.
I know it’s sad.
A friend said recently, “Who doesn’t like music?”
Really, I’m the only one?
I get a mite jealous when I hear of people excitedly exchanging iPod playlists. I don’t think anyone wants to iPod me.
Someone? Anyone?
It’s always a crap shoot ordering Chinese food here, as evidenced by my Singapore Noodles adventure some time back.
Today, I felt like soup.
Noodle Soup.
Now Noodle Soup is not a simple endeavor in the US.
It is hard to locate, and once found, it usually tastes nothing like I had envisioned.
The only thing on PF Chang’s menu that remotely resembled noodle soup was an oddity called “Pin Rice Noodle Soup.”
I asked the waiter what the noodle looked like and he looked at me like I was a noodle.
Yellow or white? I asked.
Clear, he said.
You know how they say Eskimos have a million ways to describe ice? Yeah, Chinese have a million ways to describe noodles too.
I was setting myself up for disappointment. I could feel it.
Fine, I said, I’ll have it.
Imagine my surprise when lo shi fun or “rat tail noodles” arrived.
I have not seen that on any menu in the two years since we moved here.
Jay D could eat no rat(‘s tails)
His Wife could eat no lo-mein
So between them both you see
They licked their platters clean
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