The Height of Idiocy

I am officially the world’s worst planner. Not only that, I’m also a strong contender for the gold medal in the World’s Worst Executioner of Bad Plans competition.

Let me explain:

I’m back in Saigon, Vietnam since yesterday, for one of my business trips I regularly go here for. This time, however, I have some other errands to attend to. I have to be at the Thai-General Consulate to sort out some paperwork, and I had prepared everything in advance before my arrival here, which is a major accomplishment for the complete bonehead that is me.

So after a very mediocre breakfast at my hotel, I put on my fancy clothes and headed out to the busy street outside, jumped into a cab, and shouted “TO THE THAI-GENERAL CONSULATE, STAT!” to the cabby.

I arrive there, feeling fresh and smooth as hell after a very pleasant and air-conditioned cab ride, start to complete my paperwork, which I had started to complete back in Bangkok, but not finished, with a red ballpoint pen. They didn’t have that colour here, so I had to settle for the standard blue version. I danced my way up to the lady behind the counter, handed her all my paperwork, documents and letters, only to discover that they couldn’t process any applications written with a red colour. I’m not sure about that though, it could also be that they don’t accept applications written in multiple colours, looking like a colour-blind 4-year-old had written it. So I had to write a new one from scratch, in blue. Congratulations to me. I somersaulted my way back to the lady, gave her my updated stuff, only to realise I had forgotten my passport back in the hotel reception.

“FUCK!”, I yelled, while I was struggling to maintain a calm, cool surface. I headed back to the hotel, grabbed my vital travelling document, and headed back to the consulate as quickly as I could, now frustratingly sweaty despite the air-con in the cab. Continue reading “The Height of Idiocy”


A Scary Realization: This is how Much Time You’ll Waste in a Lifetime by Doing Completely Normal Things

Last Saturday, I was going to a friend’s house for dinner. A dinner that I was supposed to prepare because of a bet that I had lost to him. The bet was that my friend––let’s call him Norway––was gonna bench press 80kgs in one rep. Since Norway has the physique similar to a small tree branch, I, along with all my co-workers, were overwhelmingly confident that he couldn’t pull off this relatively incredible feat. Much to our surprise, he managed to do so––not only once, but four times. Norway wins.

He decided that I should cook a meal for him.

I casually mentioned this bet to another friend––let’s call him the UK––and he immediately became wide-eyed and excited, and wanted in on the whole cooking part of the dinner. The UK apparently loves to cook, and knew about this gargantuan meat market and decided to go there, buy a shit-load of food, and then prepare it on Saturday, starting from 1pm. In other words, the UK wanted to go all in and cook a world-class meal for not only me and Norway, but also for ten other people, a process that the UK thought would take seven hours to prepare. The bet had now gone over my head, and I was smirking joyously when I superbly delegated it to the UK. Considering my debt to Norway being paid, with a little international help, I was happy. Norway should certainly feel pleased that he got a whole three-course meal prepared for him––I reckoned––instead of whatever I would’ve come up with (I hear McDonald’s have excellent take-out). You might argue that I got off the hook too easily, but I consider myself the broker of this awesome dinner feast. If the host is Norway and the chef is the UK, let’s call me the Puppet Master.

Anyway, back to the point of this post.

So I was on my way to Norway’s house last Saturday evening, and chose taxi as my mode of transportation. Brilliant idea––especially when this is oftentimes the case when I decide to use public transport:

Only all the time. I’d be the tall, goofy-looking guy, otherwise known as Kramer. (Source)

Continue reading “A Scary Realization: This is how Much Time You’ll Waste in a Lifetime by Doing Completely Normal Things”