Pre-post note 2: Oops. After publishing this post, I noticed it didn’t have any title. But now it has. Problem solved, because that’s what I do and that’s who I am. Problem-solver. I’ll shut up now.
“The Falcon has landed.”
While browsing my Facebook feed this morning, I noticed that a mustache-wielding show host had accidentally said the wrong name when announcing the winner in a Miss Universe pageant, only realising his mistake painfully late, causing all kinds of confusion. Very awkward stuff.
But now, I’ve been home for a while after a very stressful day at the mall (which I’ll be reporting about in a post coming up shortly), I stumbled upon my favourite site, Wait But Why. Much to my delight, a new post was up, titled:
Here I was reading about a shallow, totally superficial beauty pageant dominating my Facebook feed, how the host royally fucked up, when this has happened? I can’t believe shit like this doesn’t “break the internet” (ugh, I hate that term), but when Kim Kardashian does kinda nothing really, somehow that is a top story in many people’s lives. And not only among some of my Facebook friends, but apparently all over the world, based on the reactions of the internet. There’s definitely a disturbance in the Force.
This question was asked by a colleague (let’s call him Jakarta) late this afternoon at the office. Naturally, I took it upon me to give my most serious answer.
I’m a pretty big fan of The Walking Dead (which isn’t a “zombie show” by the way, it’s ashowabout people struggling to survive in very challenging conditions, okay? There just happens to be shit-loads of zombies contributing to the challenging conditions. Also, after a while it’s actually people who are the real danger, and not the undead, since people are justtheworst. Anyway, time to leave the parenthesis now before you get too bored) so I’m familiar with some of the ways people try to survive a zombie apocalypse.
By the way, I hate it when people say, “but it’s a zombie show” like that would be a bad thing. I’m totally on the defensive now. Time to get my head back in the game.
Note: A few days ago, I wrote a post I decided to categorise as a “Mini” due to its shortness. I tried to come up with another word than Mini, but I was very disappointed when I discovered that some of the best alternatives were “dwarf”, “midget”, “petite”, and the very repulsive “wee”.
Writing that Mini required minimal-to-no effort, and I kinda liked it for that reason. Writing Minis will also be a good way for me to increase the frequency of my posts, because I have been kinda shitty in posting regularly. On the other hand, I’m quite regular in posting irregularly, so I got that going for me, which is nice. Another good thing about Minis is that I can pretty much spontaneously grab my keyboard and just type away whenever I think of something write-worthy, since, again, these posts require no brain activity at all. Yay.
Today at lunch, I was sitting together with some of my colleagues while we were waiting for our food to come. Two acquaintances (super-awkward word to spell, which, by the way, “awkward” also is) showed up, and I greeted them with a firm handshake, as I mostly always do whenever I greet people.
As you may know, I’m living in Bangkok, a city that has a tropical savanna climate. In human, that is code for hot as hell, humid as fuck, and unbelievably sticky.
Whenever you would have to leave your air-conditioned whereabouts and decide to head out into the heat, you would actually (not really) hear your clothes go from normal to not normal and tightly squeeze your now all of a sudden sweaty body. That’s how hot and humid Bangkok often is.
So anyway, when I greeted my two acquaintances, I was on the receiving end of two remarkably sweaty handshakes. There was a moment of sheer panic when I realised there wasn’t anything to wash my hands with in the immediate vicinity. It was kinda like they had a second pair of armpits inconveniently placed in the palms of their hands, which is a very unpleasant thought. This got me thinking of how filthy people’s hands actually really are (or at least can be).
The image below will have to illustrate how a sweaty handshake feels:
Why people’s hands are filthy, and what I do to keep my hands un-filthy
Quick pre-post note 1: Wow, “rhythmic” is a weirdly-looking word. It’s one of those words that looks wrong after looking at it for too long.
Quick pre-post note 2: Ironic to have both “pre” and “post” describing these notes.
Quick pre-post note 3: Continuing the trend to postpone important, intelligent topics far, far into the future, and therefore also leaving the fate of those topics in the hands of the highly unreliable future-me, I’m questionably happy to announce that I’m back with yet another trivial – and very short – post.
This is pretty cool. It’s not a perfect, 100% fit, but it’s definitely close enough to be considered cool. Basically, you can play any song you’d like that has some kind of a proper beat to it, and Spidey will do the rest. Needless to say, I’m envious of his smooth dance moves despite my salsa classes.
I strongly recommend you to watch the videoon mute, listening to this songinstead of the built-in ones. A hell of a good way to kill a few minutes. You’re welcome.
But we both know that you’re too lazy to click on not one, but two links to do what I ask you to do. And I don’t want you to miss out on this glorious procrastination opportunity. That’s why I’ll make it easy for you, and insert the dancing Spidey below this very sentence, leaving you with only one task; to pick a song of your choosing to go along with it:
I chose to go with the hilarious and classic Cantina Band song from Star Wars: A New Hope. But more importantly:
Which song did you choose?
If you liked this post, you’re weird and I’m very sorry for you. Here’s another one you might like.
Hello, there. I’m now kind of exactly six months into blogging, and it’s probably safe to say that I’m a pretty infrequent and irregular blogger. Although, I still like to write complete gibberish and utter nonsense on this site every now and then, and I don’t mind sharing the inevitable head-scratching observations a 20-something Swedish man living in Southeast Asia is bound to experience. And I’m still trying to maintain an anonymous identity, living under the impression that anyone would really give a shit.
Anyway, I don’t really have a general goal, aim, direction or ambition with my blog other than that it’s fun to write, to interact with other bloggers in the blogosphere, and to read other bloggers’ stuff. That being said, I still have some topics I would really like to explore in the future; for instance, some science-related posts, faith-related posts, posts about religion and the meaning of life, about human relationships and our oftentimes questionable and ridiculous behaviour. But since those topics are kinda serious and take a lot of time to write, let alone to research beforehand, I’ve been pushing them further and further into the future since I don’t wanna ruin them. Also, I kinda want future-me to worry about those posts and leave present-me free to resort to other, pointless activities. The posts I’ve written so far, I’ve written kinda spontaneously without really thinking. So, until I decide to start to write like an adult about important things, you’ll have to deal with my braindead topics and ho-hum posts.
Today’s one is a new low. Here we go.
So there’s a store called Pink Pvssy
Just before I started to write this post, I had made some scaldingly hot, massively boiling tea. I poured it into a cup, put it next to my bed, got into my writer’s position, placed the laptop in my lap, and reached for the cup.
As soon as my finger surrounded the ear on the cup like a snake with an epic chokehold, I, for some reason, regretted my decision and immediately pushed the glass away from me. Then, while letting go of the cup, I regretted that decision, and unintelligently decided that, yes, I wanted the tea after all. Obviously, I made a wonderful mess, stained the new, white bed sheets, sighed in defeat while life was laughing at me, and briefly pondered what I really had accomplished so far in my life.
I’ve mentioned that I’ve lived in Thailand for some time now – one year and six weeks to be precise – and I’ve kind of hinted that it could be a pretty strange and freaky place if you’re not born and/or raised here.
You want an example? I thought so.
While following my girlfriend around like a dog on one of her insane shopping sprees, we found ourselves inside an accessories store disturbingly and unexplainably called Pink Pvssy.
Not only is the name absolutely ridiculous, the store was also in possession of some really, really weird merchandise. In no particular order, here are nine:
Last weekend, me and my girlfriend watched this movie documentary called Cowspiracy; a documentary about the food industry in general, but the meat industry in particular, and its effects on the environment. The movie was truly interesting and kind of eye-opening, and have famous environmentalists such as Leonardo DiCaprio serving as producers in one of the new cuts.
Surprisingly, if you’re not very much into that stuff already, the effects from the meat industry worldwide is pretty much the bad guy when it comes to global warming, not CO2 emissions. Like a very old, senile man, I’ve forgotten the exact figures, but I’d guesstimate that the movie made clear that the meat industry is a 60-something-percent contributor to global warming, as opposed to 14-something-percent represented by various gas emissions. In other words, if we, as a human species, really want to save our planet from global warming and its inevitable consequences, we need to stop supporting the meat industry and really don’t give the reduction of greenhouse gases any priority.
It isn’t particularly surprising that I – and I’m certain most of you as well – didn’t know about this, since we’re constantly bombarded with the “emissions of greenhouse gases are the only villains in this horror movie and we need to reduce those emissions, like yesterday, or all our cities will become Atlantis before we know it” propaganda from the media.
Also, even though I’m pretty sure most of us don’t really know how and what negatively affects our environment the most, I’m at the same time damn sure that most of us, in the back of our heads, know that there are some freaky shit going on when we grow our livestock, and how badly the animals are often treated – even though the label states “ecological”, “sustainable”, or something with the very trendy word “green”.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m back in Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam for a few days. I landed late afternoon – that’s 5.30pm – on Tuesday and decided to go with my usual routine: politely but also angrily avoid all salespeople that pop up like bees around something sweet on my way to the currency exchange desk, exchange my Thai Baht to Vietnamese Dong (apparently not enough), head out to the taxi stands through hundreds of humans, avoid those salespeople lurking outside looking to rip a foreigner off of an expensive, detouring cab ride, get a legit cab and head to my hotel, recharge my batteries (both physical and electronic), head out for something to eat, and then head back home to my hotel room where I’d be a good human and plan my tomorrow.
That’s usually a great routine and a solid plan.
Annoyingly, things haven’t gone according to plan. I got a decent, friendly-looking and non-cunning driver who seemed to (and did) take the shortest and easiest route to my hotel. We eventually arrived to my destination, and I gave him some of my Dongs and I was expecting to get some of those Dongs back since I gave him more Dongs than the receipt said. He looked at me in disgust and grunted, “tip”, to which I replied, “change”, and pointed like a caveman towards my money that rested in his Vietnamese palms. Instead of giving me my proper, full change back, he decided to give himself a little tip and give me a smaller amount of change back than I should’ve had. Had he just given me my change back, I would have happily tipped him. Hell, I might’ve even let him keep all the change, which certainly had made me feel a lot happier and less robbed than I feel now. I’m also quite sure that deep within, he’d also much more appreciate someone tipping him for being a nice driver, than just stealing part of somebody’s change just because. It’s not so much about the amount – that’s really not important here – it’s that good-old principle. This article comes to mind.
A few moments later, I enter my hotel room. Now, I’m not especially picky on these trips, and I don’t demand anything luxurious on my stays here. I don’t give a shit about a nice view, a balcony, room service or anything like that. I don’t even care if my room has a window or not.
By the way, quick side note: in my experience from the hotels in Vietnam, when they say the room has windows, you kind of expect some sort of outside view…right? I’ve paid extra to get a room with a window on a few occasions, and that has only made me sarcastically laugh to myself when I discover that the windows (if there’s more than one) are only 10cm wide and 1m long, facing the alley in between houses, where the only thing to be seen is the fire escape, which is good in case I ever need to use it. Continue reading “Would the Real Slim Architect Please Stand Up?”→