SHIT FOR BRAINS

2011-05-26T11:03:00.005+08:00

I know it has been ages since I've written on this blog... but I just had an epiphany about myself.

I was in the midst of writing a script and stuck with this long monologue I'm drafting. So tired of thinking, I decide to take a break (by that, I mean go to the loo and take a dump). I've always known that I am most inspired when I'm doing the deed in the loo. Something about the constricting of the rectal muscles down south somehow helps ease the cerebrum up north and facilitates a flurry of activity in my neurons. I don't know why... but it just does.

And then... the EPIPHANY!

I finally realise why I am fat (well, I prefer the word chubbilicious but unfortunately that word is not catching on). It's not because it's genetics or because of my slower than average metabolism rate or because I'm too freaking lazy to get off my butt and exercise. No. I finally realise that in some screwed up way, my brain is wired to tell me to eat all the time because in order for it to function in its best capacity and have bursts of creative inspiration, I need to go and have a shit. It's only when there's activity down below then will my brain be firing on all cylinders.

Heard of the phrase, "I'm so hungry I can't think straight"? That's not your brain telling you it needs food so that it can then turn into energy so that it can function... that's the brain telling you it needs food so that it can be processed so that when it's all turned to crap, that is when the magic can happen. Well, for me, at least.

Now that puts a new spin on the word - Shit for brains.

OUR NAZI RECEPTIONIST

2007-09-23T12:44:00.000+08:00

We have a Nazi receptionist in our building.

She doesn't smile to guests at all (pretty much a pre-requisite to becoming a receptionist, I believe...) , she barks orders to you through the phone, her face contorts to what is best described as a badly disguised snarl when she sees you go to the nice Executive restroom in the 1st level... and the final indisputable proof that she is the ultimate Nazi receptionist...

She kinda looks like Frau from Austin Powers...You may laugh... but I swear she does look like her. Just... remove the smile.

Walking past the reception area is like treading through a minefield... not knowing when you'd take a wrong step and have something blow up in your face. That said, we still do things that would induce that badly disguised snarl... and try our darnest to get away with it.

Like smiling in her face as you go to the nice Executive washroom... or taking water from the bottled water dispenser in the reception area (she has the nicest looking water dispenser... well, the least grungy-looking one in the building, that's for sure)... and we're always concocting new ideas to terrorise her.

Most recent one was to have whoever who lost a bet to go to the garden cum mini bird sanctuary beside the reception area where the psycho parrot (it slams itself onto the glass windows ever so often) calls home... nest... his very own pimped up aviary of sorts... and shout out, "Hey birdie... birdie... birdie....!".

Too bad no one lost the bet. It would have been nice to see her reaction.

Here's 10 other ways to piss off your Nazi receptionist.

10. Call in an open audition for Clowns to do a photoshoot in our magazine

9. Hide a baby monitor under her desk that is connected to the men's Executive toilet

8. Hire someone to pose as a telemarketer and get them to call in incessantly

7. Release a cat into psycho parrot's pimped up aviary

6. Spike the bottled water at her water dispenser with... cheap Thai liquor

5. Send someone to do a singing telegram for her. In Hokkien (a local Chinese dialect)

4. Leave sunflower seeds in her stationary holder... and leave the aviary door open.

3. Soak the above sunflower seeds... in cheap Thai liquor

2. Hide her stapler? I dunno... I'm running out of ideas here...

1. Get Britney to do a repeat of her recent VMA performance at the reception area.

I'm sure that'll put a snarl in her face...

big talk

SHIT FOR BRAINS

OUR NAZI RECEPTIONIST