Well, I made it to Vancouver in one piece, except for my peace of mind, which didn't really arrive intact.
Changi Airport's Terminal 3 is nice and new, with a lot of a Sea Barnacle theme going on. If you go there, you'd know what I mean. I initially thought that those were Big Brother Security Cams, but there's nothing inside. Found out later that those are Air-Con vents! Nice idea, if visually as appealing as giant barnacles.
I was happily anticipating my Vancouver Tech Comm conference and a few days thereafter of relaxing with friends, so I was in a nice mellow mood when I strolled into Terminal 3. Trying to get my boarding passes at the United counter was slightly trying, when they told me that although my United boarding pass was ready, the Air CanaDUH flight was scheduled for the day after. After a lot of brow-furrowing and exasperated e-ticket pointing, they confirmed that my e-ticket dates were correct, and told me to get the boarding pass for the Air CanaDUH flight in Hong Kong. Hm.. Okaaaay..
The Singapore to Hong Kong leg was fine, plain and uneventful. I even had the entire row of seats to myself. Wish I could have brought that with me though...
I was supposed to fly Air CanaDUH for the Hong Kong -> Vancouver leg. So I got off the United code-share flight, and speed-walked past sloths in human guise to arrive a short queue (yay!) of people, waiting to get boarding passes for the Air CanaDUH flight. And waited.
And waited.
And WAITED.
In the course of one hour, 4 people were served. Bleah! (un-yay!)
Turns out that Air CanaDUH "delayed" the flight to the next morning! ARRRRRGHHH! Pepperdemon and I harangued the counter staff mercilessly for alternatives (I'm imagining that the now-very-long-queue-of-frustrated passengers would have done the same thing). The haranguing must have worked, because an hour later, a frazzled-looking transfer counter person emerged from her cave to pass us Cathay Pacific tickets. Whoo hoo. (at least I got a seat).
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Habitat Capitulation
ARGH!
One of life's most stressful, um, stressors has sunk its putrid claws into the conveniently located series of blowholes in my quivering psyche. It's time to.... Ban Jia! (oops, I mean, Move House, or perform a lateral translocation of the locus at which my corpulent collection of carbon, water, trace iron, calcium molecules, assorted protein-amino chains and adipose tissue prefers to dump its butt.)
The reasons for doing so (moving, not butt-dumping) are nefarious and myriad. Suffice to say that prevailing fickle but inexorably southward property market conditions preclude any attempts to imitate a mossy stone (as in, a rolling stone gathers no..).
But Hark! Alert Blog-readers will now have a light-bulb moment, and realize that my butt does have dump itself somewhere, since the favored domicile is now slated for Ownership Transference.
Today, I, the hereforetoknownas the attachee, to which the aforesaid butt is normally attached to, bravely went forth into the seedy underworld of cut-throats, brigands and clueless owners, otherwise known as www.condo.com.sg.
Yes, I registered myself there, searching hopefully-not-in-vain-y for suitable digs for butt-dumpage. Barely had I registered an e-interest in a few properties till/then/before a perfectly-normal-sounding-for-a-property-agent indicated somewhat excitedly through an invisible microwave wave that he had a Great Deal for me! Wow! (No, that was actually meant ironically). Fast work for 2 minutes of surfing... oh well, on to see my first (1st) prospective rental unit!
I hurriedly pulled on some decent clothing (ok, so I tend to slum it at home, big deal), and shuffled out to meet the agent, squinting in the bright Sunday sun while grimacing at three rowdy kids trying to splash hot, chlorinated pool water onto an obliviously roasting Caucasian in an alarmingly skimpy bikini (yes, it was a woman).
Said agent drove me ALL THE WAY, an entirely whopping 200,000 millimeters, to the neighboring condo. (Wow, what a guy.) We did the usual thing, him gesturing ineffectually at the 12 year old apartment's features, I murmuring meaningless nothings in reply etc. After I'd given all the rooms a prefunctionary glance (it was quite decrepit) the slimy protozoa had the wherewithal to try and corral me into signing a rental agreement on the spot. No amount of protestation would deter him, in fact, it only encouraged him to spout more gibberish and circular logic. Yeesh!
I quickly divested myself of his tenticular sales pitch and nonchalantly strolled out of the condo premises. I must admit, it was quite satisfying to see him age 10 years in 3 seconds, but he had it coming. The meeting and the showing of the hovel took a grand total of 5 minutes. Only an idiot (or completely inexperienced prospective tenant) would make a decision on the spot like that.
Bleah. Woe betide any other pushy agent from this day forward! Karrrrrrr-Poui!
One of life's most stressful, um, stressors has sunk its putrid claws into the conveniently located series of blowholes in my quivering psyche. It's time to.... Ban Jia! (oops, I mean, Move House, or perform a lateral translocation of the locus at which my corpulent collection of carbon, water, trace iron, calcium molecules, assorted protein-amino chains and adipose tissue prefers to dump its butt.)
The reasons for doing so (moving, not butt-dumping) are nefarious and myriad. Suffice to say that prevailing fickle but inexorably southward property market conditions preclude any attempts to imitate a mossy stone (as in, a rolling stone gathers no..).
But Hark! Alert Blog-readers will now have a light-bulb moment, and realize that my butt does have dump itself somewhere, since the favored domicile is now slated for Ownership Transference.
Yes, I registered myself there, searching hopefully-not-in-vain-y for suitable digs for butt-dumpage. Barely had I registered an e-interest in a few properties till/then/before a perfectly-normal-sounding-for-a-property-agent indicated somewhat excitedly through an invisible microwave wave that he had a Great Deal for me! Wow! (No, that was actually meant ironically). Fast work for 2 minutes of surfing... oh well, on to see my first (1st) prospective rental unit!
I hurriedly pulled on some decent clothing (ok, so I tend to slum it at home, big deal), and shuffled out to meet the agent, squinting in the bright Sunday sun while grimacing at three rowdy kids trying to splash hot, chlorinated pool water onto an obliviously roasting Caucasian in an alarmingly skimpy bikini (yes, it was a woman).
Said agent drove me ALL THE WAY, an entirely whopping 200,000 millimeters, to the neighboring condo. (Wow, what a guy.) We did the usual thing, him gesturing ineffectually at the 12 year old apartment's features, I murmuring meaningless nothings in reply etc. After I'd given all the rooms a prefunctionary glance (it was quite decrepit) the slimy protozoa had the wherewithal to try and corral me into signing a rental agreement on the spot. No amount of protestation would deter him, in fact, it only encouraged him to spout more gibberish and circular logic. Yeesh!
I quickly divested myself of his tenticular sales pitch and nonchalantly strolled out of the condo premises. I must admit, it was quite satisfying to see him age 10 years in 3 seconds, but he had it coming. The meeting and the showing of the hovel took a grand total of 5 minutes. Only an idiot (or completely inexperienced prospective tenant) would make a decision on the spot like that.
Bleah. Woe betide any other pushy agent from this day forward! Karrrrrrr-Poui!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Hiatus
Lots of things have happened in the time spanning August 2007 and March 2008. Lots of boring work, office conflicts, workplace violence, anti-ethics training, you name it.
So why the sudden, seemingly-at-random resurrection of my blog? I'm going to Vancouver!! WhoohOoOoO! No, not for good. You don't get rid of me that easily.
Nope, I'm just going for the Doctrain West 2008 conference! In case you can't bothered to click the helpfully-provided hyperlink to see what it is I'm talking about, it's a Technical Communications Knowledge Sharing and Networking Conference For People Who Really Like To Use Initial Caps!
Ok, seriously, a Technical Communications Conference, where Technical Communicators (like me) go to hobnob, exchange biz cards, scrounge for possible career contacts, while attending helpful lectures and workshops to improve our skills and knowledge.
Aside from the 4 day conference, I'll also be going to visit friends and generally rubberneck in Vancouver, and blend in the million-or-so Occidentals milling around in Hongcouver.
I might be a little busy recording thoughts from all those seminars, but faithful readers can expect some blog activity! Oh yes, it'll be in early May. I'll try and post plenty pics too.
More Later.
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