An apple a day...

Now playing: The Futureheads

Today was yet another fucked up day at the office. Tension was high. Deadlines were on the verge of being missed. And the client crucified me in front of everyone. Again. For the second time this week.

Apparently, he wants more "sizzle". So I'll see what I can "cook up". Whatever.

So, to make myself feel better, I decided to make my very own MacBook Pro. (And no, I wasn't drunk.)

You see, ever since starting my new job, I've been reacquanted with an old friend: Windows 98. And there's nothing I can do about it short of bringing my own laptop. And if things go well in the next couple of months, that's what i'll do.

There's no doubt that Macs are infinitely cooler than PCs. Steve Jobs is a genius. First, he comes up with the iPod. Then makes it compatible with PCs. Then forces you to use iTunes, indirectly familiarising you with Mac OS X. Then he makes you watch all the coolest trailers on Quicktime.

Very very subtle. And very smart. Before you know it, you're sold. You just HAVE to have a Mac.

Sneaky bastard.

So anyway, my tired, late 90s IBM ThinkPad is a real peace of crap. It hangs at least 3 times a day. It's heavier than Barenaked Ladies. And it's ugly. But nothing some ingenuity and a bit of cellophane tape can't fix.

BEFORE: Look at this piece of shit. Icons everywhere. Dinosaur design. This simply won't do.

AFTER: Much better. Note the icon placement and the accurate branding craftsmanship.

And just for reference, this is the real thing:

See? Absolutely no difference. Not convinced? Let's try that again:

If you can spot the difference, you're lying.

That question.

Today, I’m a happy bunny.

It was a really late night at the office, as usual. I woke up at the crack of 11am. After feeding Meowie and Jiggles, I rushed through my morning routine and rushed back to the office.

After trawling through The World’s Most Fucked Up Car Park, I tried to look inconspicuous as I walked past my new colleagues, hiding behind my stunnaz. (This is still only my second week at work, after all.)

Two more cubicles to go, and I was home free. Now usually, these last two colleagues (let’s call them “A” and “B”)are never there when I stroll in first thing in the morning. By now, it was perilously close to lunchtime. And there they were. Both of them.

*deep breath*

GO!

As I was about to grab the doorknob to my team’s room, A stops me.

A: (to B) Should we just ask him?

B: Ask him la.

Me: Err…

A: Can we ask you something personal?

Me: …umm…sure.

A: But don’t get offended, ok?

Me: …ok…

(awkward pause)

A: Ok. Are you gay or straight?

(awkward pause)

(some more awkward pause)

(and a little more)

Me: .……………you know, I’m really flattered you even thought to ask me that. But I’m as straight as they come. Does that answer your question?

A: Yes. Thank you. Don’t be so full of yourself.

Me: *grin*

Now, before you draw your own conclusions about my orientation, I am not confused. I like rock music, cars, sports, computers, Girls Gone Wild and all that stuff. So go figure.

But in my little cynical world, getting mistaken for being gay is a compliment.

It means you have a decent haircut.

One night stand

Now playing: Lunarin, Throne Away (Two of my favourite local bands. Check 'em out!)

Today was one of those long days. Sleep is fast becoming a luxury for me. I'm not upset. Just very, very tired. Work's getting more intense, and there seems to be a non-stop flurry of activity for both my bands. And I just expected the days to get longer.

But tonight, something happened. Something I'd never thought I'd do. but always wanted to try, at least once in my life. Something I'd never forget.

It'd been a long day at the office and I was losing sense of time and space. I couldn't tell if it was day or night. I just knew that I was still breathing, and that was good enough for me and my boss.

My mates were having a drink around the corner of my new office and bugged me to join them. Reluctantly, I dragged myself out there after excusing myself from work.

And then I met her. She was dark, but beautiful. "Elegant" isn't the word to describe her. In fact, there was nothing subtle about the way she looked. She's the sort that dresses for attention. And people were staring.

I knew I'd seen her before. Then it hit me that she'd been in a lot of local magazines. She was that hot. My buddy Chak introduced us and we hit it off instantly. We hung around and chatted a fair bit, me and the gang.

It was then that I decided it was now or never. I gave her the "horny eye" and rushed off to the back, mumbling something about a trip to the little boys' room. I waited, thinking that this could've been the stupidest thing I'd ever done. Who was I to think that she'd be up for it with someone like me?

I was about to finish my cigarette when she arrived. We looked at each other for about 3 seconds before we got to it.

At first, I tried to be gentle. There were others around us, after all. I just needed to get a feel of her, figuratively and literally. But it wasn't long before we turned it up. Time was short, and we were going to make the most of it. After a few gentle thrusts, I slammed her as hard as I could. She screamed and stuttered, so I backed off a bit. But we soon found our rhythm, so I hit the next gear and pushed even harder.

She loved it.

Everything around us became a blur. And then almost as soon as it had begun, it was over.

In situations like these, fast is good. Trust me.

We gave each other one last look, knowing that we'd probably never see each other again, and headed back to the table. By now, I was exhausted. I excused myself and headed back to sweet sweet Natalie. I tried not to look her in the eye, struggling to wipe the mile-wide grin off my face.

ME: Hi, honey. I'm home.

NATALIE: Is that oil on your collar?!!

ME: (shit shit shit)

Goodbye, beautiful stranger.