London's Burning, London's Burning...

There’s been a load of rioting in London this week, which is rather shocking and disturbing, and makes me glad I am over here. I am slightly worried that the trouble will spread from the parts of London that are affected to Streatham Hill, as Clapham and Brixton have had trouble: the fancy dress shop in Clapham is no more! 

Croydon, apparently, is on fire.

Oh well…

Something in all of this did make me smile today though – a spoof news article about the England riots: “"However, there were disturbances in parts of Britain that don't matter" via 'Policing seems to work' in www.thedailymash.co.uk

WHAT? Fuck That!

I am supposed to be having Unifi internet installed today – about time too: I asked the landlord in June...

It's a high speed wired service and seeing as I am here for a few more months, at least I’ll be able to work from home without the fiasco of using this ridiculous Celcom shit stick that just won’t stay connected to the internet at all. They are supposed to come round at 10 o’clock, but at 10.30, I get this text message from the landlord that they have gone to the wrong address, and she’s sorry for the mess. Not quite sure what she means by 'mess', until I speak to her and she says that because they went to the wrong address, we need to rebook (in person in the Unifi office) another date.

What? Fuck that! They can just turn up here and all will be fine, yes?

No, apparently not. I phone (what I think is) Unifi, and they say that the address is wrong on the contract and it will take a while to sort out. Really? I make it crystal clear to this bitch on the phone that they went to the wrong address, they can come to the new address this afternoon and install. She says that she’ll call back, which she does, and then says that the installer will be there at about 2.30 pm instead.

That’s more like it!

Or so I thought. At 3 pm, I call the woman at Unifi back and she says that they went to the wrong address AGAIN! I call her a liar, saying that I just don’t believe that the same installer went to the same wrong address twice in the same day. Anyway, she then says that it’ll take ‘about a week’ to sort out.

What? Fuck that! – I am livid now and start raging down the phone at this woman who clearly doesn’t understand how frustrating it is to be told a morning time, then an afternoon time and then ‘oh, about a week now’ all because they went to the wrong address, twice.

I start moaning at some friends about this, and they just tell me that this is how it is in Malaysia.

What? Fuck that! 

I get onto customer services and tell them that I want the installation today, without any arguments, but all she says that they can’t do that now as all the installation slots have been used up now for about a week. I am lost for words and I call this other woman back and start ranting at her, telling her that unless I get the installation done either today or by the end of the week, I’ll go somewhere else. She said she’d call me back, but doesn’t bother, so I call her again. She’s completely wound me up and I am not letting this go!

When she answers the call, she says, “before Mr get angry” and tried to explain that the address mix up wasn’t her fault, it was entered wrong on the system (and yes, I know I should have checked) so I give her the time to explain, but it then turns out that she’s not even from Unifi: she’s a lawyer working for the landlord in the landlord’s office.

What? Fuck that! I want to talk to the Unifi team!

GRRRR – anyway, I get through to them and then tell me that the only way to get the installation now is to cancel the original request and re-submit with the correct address. So that’s what we do, but no-one can give me a date as to when all this will be sorted out by, but I seriously doubt whether I will actually have a working broadband service installed before it’s time for me to leave. What a waste of a fucking day

Oh, the wrong address? "B2-20-3A, block C", instead of 'B2-20-3A, block B" 

(the ‘B’ in the "B2" being the block name, as in the same format for every single address of this type in Malaysia). What a bunch of cunts. 

You Disgusting Sl*t

Despite going to bed really late, and pretty drunk, I wake up stupidly early and decide I ought to make the most of the day by getting my lard arse out of bed and going to the gym. 

Actually, as I am lazing about in bed I get a message from a friend saying “Good morning you disgusting slut”, which made me laugh out loud. 

"Lunch?"

and that sounds a lot better than going to the gym.

Exit Duti, Enter Carina

I have got a new cleaner today – Carina, I think her name is. Duti has gone back to Indonesia, which is a shame because:

1. I didn’t get to say cheerio
2. she was really good

When I get back from work, I inspect the place and the new one (all dressed up with a tonne of make up, I notice) hadn’t bothered doing all the ironing and was nowhere near as thorough as Duti. 

• she didn't empty the dishwasher
• she didn't fold my underpants
• she didn't make the bed

Hmm.

Be Gone, Lumpy Bum

I am determined to shift the weight that I have put on since being in the UK where I seemed to spend most of my evenings catchup up with friends and drinking / eating a LOT.

Eating deep fried food and drinking beer tonight with colleagues after work does nothing to help that cause...

Oh well. 

Sān Zhī

I met up with the usual bunch for lunch today and Adrian (just back from China) was telling us a story about a dish called "sān zhī" or "three squeaks" 

Before reading this, please note that this was a story and this was NOT what we had for lunch...

The reason why it is called “three squeaks” is due to the sound made when eating this dish. Apparently, the dish are newly born mice. 

Squeak 1: when the baby mouse is picked up with your chopsticks. 

Squeak 2: when the baby mouse is dipped into the sauce

Squeak 3: when the baby mouse is placed into your mouth...

What is wrong with the world!!!

Car Park Hell

The bar we'd arranged to go to tonight had been taken over by a wedding reception so it was incredibly busy and full of pissed Chinese people randomly shouting celebratory cheers, which was quite fun. We kept eyeing up the cake that was sat on a few of the tables, but thought better of stealing any - I am sure  that there was this Chinese triad member keeping surveillance on the food...

Gradually the party disbanded and a live band (who were quite good) came on doing all manner of cover versions and was a nice evening catching up with people I'd not seen for a few weeks and we sat about until about 2am.

Then... I tried to leave...I'd parked the car under the office block next to the bar, paid the exit fare on the ticket, but when it came to use the ticket to open the barrier, the fucking thing couldn’t be read by the control and the barrier wouldn't budge: I was trapped in the car park!

As it was about 2 in the morning, the place was deserted (including the "24 hour" parking management office) and I begin to panic a bit, envisioning sleeping in my car here for the night and dying from heat exhaustion as the place was sweltering... To avoid that, I march back up to the bar and tell them to help me

After confirming that I had actually paid the exit fee (I had, yes, 2MYR, thank you) one of them leads me back to the lift, and up to security (no-one there either) and then back down to the car park, to show me the empty office (where I'd noticed the "out for lunch sign, grrr").

Fucking hell, trapped, getting hotter and breathing wine fumes over this poor guy, saying how ridiculous this was and being a bit of a pain in the arse, probably (when in fact I probably shouldn’t have been driving at all) and I start calling all the numbers I can see displayed inside the office and luckily someone answers one of them – they’ll be along in a few minutes to let me out. After confirming that I had paid the exit fee (I had, yes, 2MYR, thank you), he lets me out and I am FREE!!

Phew.

Meet at 9...9.30...10... Where Are You?

I've arranged to go out for a few drinks tonight with friends and organise to meet at 9pm. 

"Can we make it a bit later - need to eat first?:  - OK, no problem.

"Is 9.30 OK?" - OK - even better, gives me a chance to relax a bit more

"How about 10?" - Sure, I'll just make my way there anyway for about that time and try to get seats at the bar. 

At 9.30, I get a message from one of the people going saying "I am in the bar - where are you?"

What!?!

Clean Your Teeth

I am in the Golden Lounge at Changi Airport in Singapore, which I now remember to be particularly crap. No showers or anything and I feel a bit dirty after the long flight 

Anyway, I have a glass of the only wine available (some crap chardonnay), log on to check mails and chat to some friends on either work messenger or Skype. I was getting into it when I realised that my flight was about to leave, so I pegged it to gate F31 and walked straight onto the plane. 


I was sat next to this greasy looking man whose breath could melt concrete, which wasn’t very pleasant. 

Arrogant French C*nt

I am flying Qantas to Singapore (and then MAS to KL) but I foolishly didn’t check the seat they allocated me – the original booking allocated me seat 25E, and I thought nothing of it, until when I got on the plane when I realised that I was in the middle of a three seat centre aisle.

I didn’t like that at all and asked the snitty French flight attendant, Jag, if the flight was full, and he looked at me like I was scum and said that there were “per’aps two or three seats available, but ‘e couldn’t really remember”. Stupid French cunt, clearly didn’t like me.

To make things slightly better, I did have a lovely Tasmanian Riesling wine with my dinner.

Weight, Part 1

Flying back to Malaysia today, and I seem to spend the day packing, re-arranging, weighing and re-packing my suitcase to take what appears to be about 60 kg of luggage! I am convinced that I have a maximum of 32 kg, until I check the luggage allowance (after I attempt, but fail, to check in online) and it looks like I am allowed 3 bags, each 32 kg! How marvellous – so I repack and re-add all the stuff I excluded the first time round.