No Pearls, Thank You
Today was supposed to be a fun-filled day of oyster-shucking with Ben. Every Saturday morning a food market is held in Temple Bar. It's all standard ang moh fare but for the oyster bar.
Ah.. oysters. *clouds part biblically, trumpets sound in the background*
Oysters are fantastic. Some guy somewhere once said that shucking raw oysters is the equivalent of oral sex on a woman - less the funkysmell germs, of course.
A rough guide to start you on your way :
As fantastic as this day was supposed to be, it didn't work out quite to plan. By the time Ben and I woke up, the sun was already well into its descent, and all our shelled, molluscan dreams went down together with it.
So.
The entire day (or what was left of it anyway) was spent watching P.O.T, reading Esquire, and wandering aimlessly online. And now it's already midnight.
I made a silent oath to start hitting the books by 11p.m. The books need(ed) desperate hitting.
I'm hopeless at silent oaths.
Maybe next time they shouldn't be so silent. Maybe I should write it down somewhere : Start studying at 11, dumbass.
11 came. I was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to cut my nails. So I cut them.
A shower came next, as my mother always told me to wash up properly after cutting my nails*. If you didn't, you could get diarrhoea. I'm not a fan of watery stools, so I never question my mother's wisdom on this particular subject. It turned out to be an exceptionally long shower, with me scrubbing every imaginable, scrubabble surface/indent/orifice. Shower done, books ready.
Something was wrong. My room didn't look right. Something was off somehow.
So I moved my study table slightly. And my bed. What started as minute placement adjustments ended as a total rearrangement of every piece of furniture in my room.
Well. That's done.
Books then.
Maybe not-lah. I decided to come online and post.
Discipline has never been one of my many fantastic and well-documented (heh) strengths.
It's a ball-shrinkingly cold night. I wish she was here to keep me warm. I'd definitely study then.
*Mother also says to not cut nails at night. If you do, you're sure to see a ghost. Woohoo.
Ah.. oysters. *clouds part biblically, trumpets sound in the background*
Oysters are fantastic. Some guy somewhere once said that shucking raw oysters is the equivalent of oral sex on a woman - less the funky
A rough guide to start you on your way :
- Place raw oyster on upturned palm, with rough outer shell facing inferiorly.
- Dash on generous amounts of Tabasco® sauce.
- If desired, lemon juice can be added.
- Open mouth.
- Deposit.
As fantastic as this day was supposed to be, it didn't work out quite to plan. By the time Ben and I woke up, the sun was already well into its descent, and all our shelled, molluscan dreams went down together with it.
So.
The entire day (or what was left of it anyway) was spent watching P.O.T, reading Esquire, and wandering aimlessly online. And now it's already midnight.
I made a silent oath to start hitting the books by 11p.m. The books need(ed) desperate hitting.
I'm hopeless at silent oaths.
Maybe next time they shouldn't be so silent. Maybe I should write it down somewhere : Start studying at 11, dumbass.
11 came. I was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to cut my nails. So I cut them.
A shower came next, as my mother always told me to wash up properly after cutting my nails*. If you didn't, you could get diarrhoea. I'm not a fan of watery stools, so I never question my mother's wisdom on this particular subject. It turned out to be an exceptionally long shower, with me scrubbing every imaginable, scrubabble surface/indent/orifice. Shower done, books ready.
Something was wrong. My room didn't look right. Something was off somehow.
So I moved my study table slightly. And my bed. What started as minute placement adjustments ended as a total rearrangement of every piece of furniture in my room.
Well. That's done.
Books then.
Maybe not-lah. I decided to come online and post.
Discipline has never been one of my many fantastic and well-documented (heh) strengths.
It's a ball-shrinkingly cold night. I wish she was here to keep me warm. I'd definitely study then.
*Mother also says to not cut nails at night. If you do, you're sure to see a ghost. Woohoo.
This entry was posted by tsh, on
Sunday, April 17, 2005.
You can bitch back.
say it