The gentle art of fogging

22 01 2003

Mistaken assumption No. 1:
If Kurt Cobain can get married in pajamas, viagra usa unhealthy I can answer the door in mine.

I realise now after the event, cialis generic sovaldi that there are certain times in your life when you need to decide what type of flag you wave in terms of decorum. After my latest social fumbling, prescription it’s pretty obvious I’m waving a ‘total-lack-of’ flag.

Official statement: Noodle, January, 2003
Well, I was just sitting at my desk, minding my own business at 9.00 am Singapore time, writing some crap-or-other (pure gold really), when there came a polite knock at the door. The excitement bubbled as I looked toward the door, even though it’s not transparent. So the act of looking is a little pointless.

But I can’t help it—I have a delivery fetish. I think every knock at the door might be an important delivery of some sort. I check my mail several times a day, just in case I missed an urgent missive from Bono, whom I sometimes imagine to be my long-term pen pal. Though admittedly, he does all the talking.

So, when this knock came it took me only a nanosecond to decide that it was perfectly acceptable to answer the door in my pyjamas, jam stains and all. With ‘pre-delivery adrenaline’ surging through my veins, I bounded to the door and jerked it open.

My hair had that kind of ‘hedge-backwards’ look about it. But my teeth were clean, so I wore a jaunty smile.

My face, smile, and spirit fell. There was a little man in uniform waiting in the corridor. He didn’t have a parcel.

“Hello,” he said. I looked him up and down as he, with what I took to be a smirk, checked out my daggy pjs. He kind of hesitated for a moment, but then ploughed on.

“Mosquito inspector,” he said. “I’m here to check your mosquitoes.” Read the rest of this entry »






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