McDumdum

Here's the whinge I wrote to McDonald's.  I wonder if they will reply to me.

I usually order McDelivery.  And I think that your first greeting should not be "How may I help you," because quite frankly - I only call this number to order food delivery - and I've pressed all the buttons that have led me towards ordering food delivery - and having to say "I'd like to order food and have it delivered," seems like a waste of time and makes me feel like an idiot - not to mention, when I order takeaway as often as I do - it gets more and more annoying each time.

I know the routine - you may or may not confirm my tel no, then you confirm my address, then you take my order - along the way the customer service guy gets it right or wrong depending on how rushed he's feeling that day.  Why not just get right to business with, "May I take your order?" or "May I confirm your address for delivery?"  After all, I'm calling to order food and have it delivered asap not to have a friendly chat because I'm lonely. 

I've had the poor chap ask me what's my name and that's always awkward given that my name is not easy to pronounce for a number of Malaysians and I end up putting up with being called GAY or GAY-LER or GUY-LEE - so, that just adds a further annoyance.  You don't know me.  You don't want to be my friend nor do I want to be yours.  I just want food!

Ok.  That's all.  Forgive the ranting but I'm particularly exhausted after work today and that's what pushed me towards filling out a feedback form in the first place.  I hope this gives you some insight into what it's like for the customer sometimes when we are faced with inane questions like 'how may I help you,' when the answer should really be obvious after all the buttons you just made me press.  Next time, I'll try not to answer that question with, "You may scratch my belly please."

Happy 33 2Me!

For the first time in years, I did not plan a birthday party. Instead, I helped to plan a wedding (NO, NOT MINE!). In a way it was MUCH better... I got to celebrate my birthday and someone else got to pay for the band, food, ballroom and everything else! *evil grin*

Florence and Meng even kindly treated me to a portion of their bed so I could stay over!  Thanks guys!

 Mental snapshots…

• Gayle emcees at Aaron & Becky's Wedding on Sat, 6 November 2010
• False eyelash partially comes off on stage, flaps loosely over left eye. Apparently the glue couldn’t handle the weight of the eye-lash AND the lock of hair resting on it (due to new wavy hairdo)
• Friend hijacks masking tape from banquet staff, adheres suspect named “Botz” to chair
• Large friendly gentleman called Jobe experiments with aviation during dinner… Chopstick takes flight, hangs around near ceiling suspended by 3 helium balloons. Banqueting staff look on – calculate overtime for waiting on chopstick to descend later that night.
• Man sucks helium then has mouth taped over… the Large Friendly Gentleman thought that might make him fart in a higher pitch; or float
• Couple of what turns out to be adults codenamed Ronz and Eric Remedies, roll around confetti on the floor like it’s a pile of leaves in fall. Admirably, no one gets hurt or needs help getting up off the floor.
• Styrofoam pillars belonging to hotel destroyed, used as weapons by groom and best man in a medieval Joust. Weatherman reports short, sharp showers of Styrofoam.
• Flower bouquets destroyed in a game of “loves me, loves me not”; culprits later realize flowers were fake
• Impersonator named Andrew Lambert gets picked up and hurled through air towards garter (also in mid-air) in impromptu rugby move by Clubhouse Boys... displaying unheard of agility, strength and coordination (at least for them).
• Plenty of career-ending type photographs taken at night’s end which will not be shown here or on facebook
• First official birthday meal past midnight was a Fillet o’Fish Medium Value Meal at McDonalds at 2ish am. False eyelashes still going strong.

And I didn’t even have to pay for the party! All in all, a very memorable way to turn 33. I was surrounded by family and dear friends!  Only a few close babes of mine were missing but presents a good reason to celebrate again eh?

Love you all. My 30's are turning out to be a really great time!

RM5 Eyebrow Threading

What a bargain. To tweeze and trim brows at a conventional salon can cost upwards of fifteen bucks, but threading (eyebrow shaping using only thread, teeth and a skilled pair of hands) at this shop is just RM5.

Santhi One Stop bridal house is in Penang's Little India right next to the famous Sri Ananda Bahwan restaurant.

It's quickly done at just under five minutes and the result is a very neat, very clean brow.

They also do brazilian waxes here, with just a small difference. At the end when a beautician would normally attack stray hairs with pincers, instead out comes the roll of string clenched between teeth. And before u can say 'zomgwhatrudoingdownthere' you're done.

Does it hurt? Certainly. But its cheap and good, and well worth it.

Wanted! Supadog!

Aint she such a cutie?

M.B.A.

A Master of Bullshit Arts?

My best friend has flown the coop and its time to really grab new opportunities by the *ahem*.  New friends, new hobbies, new places to visit and things to do.  I also have thoughts of maybe flying the coop myself and building a career in a different country.  Any decent company will want to see paper qualifications to support their application for a working permit I'm assuming.  So is an MBA worth getting at age 33?  I'd love to hear from 'mature' students who got their MBAs or another post-grad degree without first having... a degree.  Students who got in on experience.  I'm relying on career experience to see me through the entry requirement and I'm curious what my experience qualifies me for.

The Flickering Flame

Dear reader,

Please click here first and allow this song 

to wash over you as you read this, 

as I did when I wrote it:  I don't love you

When you go, 

Would you even turn to say,

I don't love you, 

Like I did,

Yesterday...

 
 The familiar strains of a moving guitar melody and gut-wrenching vocals flow through my veins and  it empowers, saddens and invigorates.  What a paradox.  The finality of loss is brought into sharp relief by a renewed hope for the future.  The sheer unexpectedness of what tomorrow might bring... the opportunity to create a new outcome... burns like a candle in the darkened window of my heart.  Confidently it brightens and keeps the shadows at bay, but occasionally a slip, a twitch of a curtain, and a cold familiar draft threatens to extinguish the promise of the flame.

Well when you go, 

Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay,

And maybe when you get back,

I'll be off to find another way...

As my gaze fixes upon the cold blue heart of the flame, black and white images move across the theatre of my mind.  Irony.  It replays a scenario that resides in the grey areas of human frailty.  Flickering shadows play upon the features of a soulful face.  Large and red rimmed eyes swollen from hours of sobbing... and outstretched hands with fists closed tight from the strain of trying to keep all the emotions at bay... express more than words possibly could in explanation or justification of the events about to unfold. 

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading,

So sick and tired of all the needless beating,

But baby when they knock you down and out,

It's where you oughta stay.

I wish I had the vocabulary, the insight, and the talent... to have relayed my thoughts and questions well enough to have been understood from the first instance, without them having become tarnished by the human condition.  At each and every moment when that flame guttered out, and I was left cold and alone with only those poignant questions to keep me company, the one person who might have understood and answered them... stood out on the street, mingling with the myriad, and faded beyond the darkened window.  And so the candle stood, dark... until with the light of the morning came the only reliable relief, and the view through the window wiped clean for another day and another play.

And after all this time that you still owe,

You're still a good-for-nothing I don't know,

So take your gloves and get out,

Better get out while you can...

Week after week, the scenes in front of that night-time window would replay with clockwork regularity.  And the recluse behind the window, the once-owner of that flame, grew to regard it all as a cruel and painful joke; a long distant memory of happier days.

Then with time and with nothing but the darkness to consider... the only sensible thing to do was move away from the view and maybe, find a way to rekindle the light.  Such effort did it take to grope for the matches, that I stumbled in the dark, and fell... far and hard.  And although there was pain, there was also endorphins and euphoria.  And for that I will always be grateful, for it suffused me once again with warmth, and the knowledge of things material and immaterial, that I knew I deserved.

So fix your eyes and get up,

better get up,

while you can...

Then finally, the matches were sought.  The candle was lit.  And the flame began burning anew... illuminating an altogether different scene.  One of endless possibilities and hope for tomorrow.  So upon the morrow, and the morrow after that....

I don't love you like I loved you yesterday...

... I will seek once more, that same person who once stood on the other side of the window, and hope to meet his eyes to recognise love of a different kind - a mutual understanding of a love that gives, rather than takes... and that makes us both better people than we were before.

Just us and Eric Benet

Here I sit in the dark, with the feeble moonlight barely penetrating the gloom of the living room. The light of my beloved mac is the only glow within, illuminating my drawn and exhausted visage, giving me the look of one haunted. Maybe I am.

Haunted by desires unfulfilled and memories of happier days. Yearning that things could have remained as they were and still hoping that the harshness of reality will take another step back and leave me in peace. In relative peace.

For escapism can no longer be a lasting release. If I am truthful to myself, it has not been for years. Once that barrier of denial was broken it meant that I have been forever forced to be in a state of duality... aware of more than I have been before, and making conscious choices because it has been the only way to be. Taking responsibility for all my actions.

Snatches of a sexy Eric Benet tune are filtering through to my consciousness as I type, and it makes me sad. It reminds me of the lies we tell ourselves to get through difficult days, in vain, hoping to emerge unscathed... only to fail.

A choice is looming on the horizon. A question mark hangs in the air. An answer, the only obvious answer, is slamming against my consciousness, reminding me of its presence. Annoying, unrelenting and unforgiving.

I am no longer clear about my reasons for resisting its presence. But my body is weak with exhaustion and my mental state overburdened by a fully charged day - the incredible high of being on the go now dragged into balance by a melancholy brought on by the weekly Friday 'triggers' that I have come to expect and dread, which I no longer have the strength to attempt to influence positive change upon.

But acknowledgment. Truly, it is out of my control... yet somewhere along the way, 'acceptance of the things I can't change' has come to equate 'things that I have failed to foresee.' When did I form that belief? And in an ironic twist, I hate that I did not see it rearing its ugly head.

But it's okay. I am okay, and everything will be fine. Tomorrow is another day and once sleep claims me, my troubles will fade away again like so much dew on a tropical morning. The sun rising with renewed vigour, as will I.

Until then though, it's just us... and Eric Benet.

About Keeping Secrets

If there's anything I've learned lately, it's that life will throw the unexpected your way. I am grateful that I have learned to be better at going with the flow, taking those highs and lows like a pro... and dealing with the spills in due course.

In a conversation with someone close recently, I was advised to keep a specific thing about my life secret - even from, and even especially from, the one person in my life who is supposed to be closest to me. This, out of fear that it would come back later to bite me in the ass.

While I believe that everyone is entitled to privacy, I firmly believe that there are some experiences that need to be shared. I don't look to go out and advertise it - but neither am I ashamed of it. In fact I am almost proud of it most of the time - because it signifies strength and a set of unique lessons learned that I would not otherwise have had the opportunity to.

I am sure that the journey I've taken from that moment on has made me a better person - a warmer, more loving and more understanding person in the face of a lot of things.

My brother has often told me that I'm too soft. I am sure he often worries about me getting hurt because of my gentle nature which I tend to hide behind a wall of extroversion. I tried to toughen up, and I believe I have. I am more aware now that people can be horrendous beyond belief and do despicable things to one another. But I consciously refuse to stop believing the best of them, until proven otherwise... and maybe even then, there's hope.

I have tried starting out everything warily and with over-caution, but that just does not work for me. Life is too short for me to spend time not being me. I ended up making the wrong choices for myself - and living my life for other people.

Someone else told me that I tend to do things in a big way - that I make life changes drastically and with full force. I sensed a negative connotation there but I chose to take it as a simple statement of the way things are. I mean, I understand why that can be a bad thing, but I wonder if others understand why it can also a good thing. Making big changes has worked for me. The breakthroughs were big and I am grateful for every one of them.

Everything boils down to one man's meat being another man's char koay teow. Both just as good... but different.

If I were to be asked right now what my biggest fear is... I honestly would not know what to say (apart from 'snakes'!). I think it would be that at the end of the day, I will find myself alone in this world without the people I care about who have held up a mirror to my life and helped me define me.

Yes, that would be it. And while that is a fear that stemmed from childhood - which I believe will remain with me for the rest of my life - I also know that it isn't the truth. But please forgive me if sometimes, I forget.

Sydney & Goldcoast Vacay, Week 1

So. I've been here a week. Let's start with some of my thoughts, in brief, about what I think my trip has been so far:


Sun is scorching.
Breezes are freezing.
In the first few days, it was so cold it felt like I was in Cameron Highlands - but dressed for Langkawi.
The subsequent doctor's consultation fee to treat my cough & cold was 60 Aussie Dollars. The nasal spray and anti-biotics prescription from the chemist an additional 80 Aussie Dollars.
Travel insurance is fantastic to cover that. If you have it. Which I don't. Bugger.


Pubs are strange.
Babies and children play at your feet.
They're smoke free! Rather, smoke was probably at liberty once but has now been arrested by unbribable Aussie cops on horses.
The same Aussie cops have also arrested the white person's ability to dance. Dance clubs are mostly dance-free, cool (as in the temperature) and with breathable air.
Parking is far from free. About 3 Aussie dollars for 1 hour in the parking meter.
Cover charge is about 15 Aussie dollars and you get one free nothing. You just get to go inside.
Strip club covercharge is also about 15 Aussie dollars. WHEE. I am going to one tonight!

I am smoking far fewer cigarettes.
Arse-freezing weather cools the inclination to step outside for a quick fag.
Killer high-heels that are holding your toes for ransom also make it hard to walk outside 'again'.

No one here has heard of Salem cigarettes!
Milo is sold in the old-school style - granules in tins. No 3-in-1 options.
Condensed milk appears to be a myth.
"Servings are Western sized. You can only eat half their portion" is also a myth. I seem able to consume all my food. HAH.
Chu-char, Thai food and Indian food are prepared as individual servings with appetizers & entrees. Be warned... Tom Yam soup is not a soup to be shared. It is YOUR MEAL.


A bottle shop does not equal a 'botoi' shop.
Chinese uncle-loids and aunty-septics have adopted a very strange combination of Chinglish + Aussie accents.
Not all Chinese people are in fact, Chinese. Some of them are Japanese. haha.

Mornings are bacon & egg filled moments of sin.
Satay is twice the size for quadruple the price.
Thai lemon chicken tastes like chicken satay.
Bread slices are twice as thick.
Bacon rashers are twice as big.
My weight is now twice as much than when I first arrived.

Surfer boys aren't really 'rawr' worthy.
Good looking white chicks tend to mostly look like Nicole Kidman from afar.
Flat chested Chinese chicks are almost nil.
Clothes have bust sizes that are too big for my bust. Whee.

Strange boys in Casinos will hug you on a whim... provided you're a girl apparently on your own.
Betting 25 Aussie on blackjack doesn't feel as bad as betting RM50 in Genting.
Losing 100 Aussie dollars doesn't feel so bad if you've been gambling from 12am till 5am in a Casino, with a steady flow of Vodka Orange & cute croupiers.
The Chinese aunties crowded around gaming tables are conspicuously missing.
Mahjong hasn't made it to Aussie casinos yet either. lol.
Findi**s are annoying, no matter where you find them.


Oscillating devices aka 'fans' are not a standard home fixture.
Hoses next to the toilet, with which to wash your arse after a massive alcohol induced shart, are ALSO not a standard home fixture. >.<

Slow walking people abound.
Patient drivers who will stop for pedestrians to cross roads also abound.
I fear for my safety when I am eventually let back into the wilds of Penang traffic. I may actually try to use a zebra crossing and realise my error when I become jam on the asphalt.
Now I understand Daniel's tendency to walk in the middle of the road as though he were invincible or Findi**. Over here, pedestrians seem to have equal rights.
The only motorcycles I see on the roads are superbikes.


Over and out, for now.

Teaching Brings Joy to These Women

Figured I'd best blog this for my archives since the article is no longer up on the Star website. This was published sometime in May 2006, if I remember correctly.

By SHARMILLA GANESAN

PETALING JAYA: You could say teaching is in Gayle Barbosa’s blood. Her parents and grandmother were also teachers.

That could explain why Gayle, at the age of 29, decided to quit as a copywriter and pursue an education degree instead.

Her grandmother Anna Capel, 84, was a teacher for 33 years, starting her career before World War II. Gayle's mother Marion Barbosa, 64, taught at SM Convent Green Lane in Penang for 34 years.

Gayle, who is in her foundation year, recalled how she once told herself she would never become a teacher. But after venturing into advertising, she realised her real passion was in fact in education.



“Teaching is what I enjoy and I look up to my mother and grandmother as model teachers,” said Gayle.

Anna said she started teaching after secondary school. That was before the war. During the Japanese Occupation, she stopped teaching on the advice of her husband.

“When I went to the Penang Convent after the war, it was a total mess, because it had been used by the Japanese as a base,” said Anna, adding that she enrolled as a teacher again as soon as the occupation was over.

Anna felt that there was more respect and appreciation for teachers before, noting that many new teachers were indifferent towards their students.

“It’s very sad, as the students want to learn but often can’t find the right teachers,” said Anna, who still has her former students visiting and sending her greeting cards.

Her daughter Marion initially got into teaching because she was not sure what she wanted to do.

“My parents basically decided for me, but I don’t regret it for one minute, because teaching was extremely rewarding,” said the retired teacher.

Marion felt that the decline in students’ behaviour nowadays was due to teachers and parents as well.

“I was a very firm teacher, and manners were very important to me. My students even used to call me the ‘dragon’! With the right techniques, positive values can be imparted in every lesson, not just during moral class.” she said.

“It is extremely gratifying to see a diamond in the rough emerge to be something wonderful!”

With Teachers Day on May 16, this is a good time for everyone to express their appreciation for their old or current teachers.

Just send in an SMS and see that message in the print or electronic media. The SMS campaign, conducted by the Education Ministry together with MyPressto.com Sdn Bhd, will continue until May 31.

Each message costs 30 sen. Just type GURU, space, followed by the message and send to 32020.

Source : The Star Online

Sucks To Be Jabba

I'm allergic to shellfish and some medications. My friends know this, but have never really seen me go through the 'transformation' from being a human being named Gayle to being Jabba.

Well, I am at Concepts today, just killing time until I have to pick Daniel up from the airport. While hanging out and playing around with Aaron's computer since he's on leave to go fishing with the boss, I found incriminating photographs in a folder entitled "Concepts Clowns Part 2".

The folder just screamed to be opened besides begging the questions... Am I an ex-clown? and Where is Part 1?

Among the photos I found were some named like this:

• Balaclavatwat
• Myanus audio
• Pseudochink
• Scratch
• Wanker
• Harsky and Starch
• Do you think I doggy; and
• Dumbasserist

And of course, as I had expected, I found "Jabba 1" and "Jabba 2". So, I certainly received the answer to my first question "am I an ex-Concepts clown?" The answer is a resounding 'yes'.

No doubt, cousin goblok Capes has been saving these photos to blackmail me. These pictures were taken in August 2007 at my desk in Concepts. CLICKY HERE for the post I wrote about what had happened to me that day.

Here I am about 15-20 minutes after I'd taken the painkiller.

I could still see & only let him take the photo because he was the only one in the office at the time and thus, my saviour.

Here I am about 15 minutes later. By this time my eyes had pretty much swollen shut and all I sensed was a flash of light that kinda told me my 'saviour' couldn't resist another photo opportunity. I was desperately trying to see out of the two slits that were now my eyes.

I is Jabba.

Birthday-rator: Part 1

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 2!

Birthday-rator: Part 2

CLICK HERE TO READ "CATCH OF THE DAY!
THE FISHERATOR"

Catch of the Year - Fisherator

Beets Business

Go to your boss and pitch this business idea.
hahaha.

“Number 1 rule in roadside beet sales.
Put the best looking beets on top.
They make you pull over your car and say,
wow I need this beet right now.
Those are the money beets.”

-Dwight Schrute (The Office)

Birthday Bunny

Let the festivities begin!!!!

And as I blow out my candles on this my 30th, my fervent wish is that Jobe will fall asleep in the living room again so I can create the Birthday Party Edgarator!

I already have the prototype...

Time Warp

Strange. I'm losing hours. And I don't think the aliens took them.

I've just been dealing with a person who tells me things that I told her 5 minutes before she tells me.

HAH. Try dealing with THAT sentence. Maybe if you fold the sentence together like the back-cover of a MAD magazine it'd make sense.


Example.

Me: Our project deadline is looming. We need to get our interviews done fast, so we can keep time with our production schedule. I'm just waiting on your side to get me the details you promised.

Client: Hmm. Yeah. ______ was talking to me. We need to get the book done fast, so we need to buck up on the interviews. How long will it take you ah? When can I get it?

Me: As soon as it's done. Just get me the details so I can get the interviews done. We've done loads already just waiting on yours.

Client: Oh, I see. Ok. Will work on that. So when do you think I can get it? We need to hurry up.

It's at this point that my eyes start to glaze over - the effect of trying to stare down a black hole. The black hole always wins, and the loser walks away with a headache that suggests the death of a few million brain cells.

The Terrific Twenties

I have just one more week to enjoy being in my twenties.
Then thirty is going to hit me like an unwanted zit on prom night.

I discovered my first white hair this year. Ask Aaron, I freaked out on him in KL. The coffee didn't help. It's embarrassing to admit, but I felt like crying that night. Then I felt like laughing too, because white hair or not - here was another 'first'.

I didn't pluck the white hair out, and I check on it once in a while to see how it's doing... like an unofficial pet. Perhaps, like my left breast - I shall give my solitary white hair a name. Suggestions?

*Derailment* I wonder what I'll one day name my solitary hair. At least now I still have the pleasure of adding the adjective 'white'... to discern one strand from all the rest. I have 'the rest' to feel blessed about.

My twenties have been fabulous and so much has happened in these ten years. I've had lots of firsts...

• First drunken binge
  
• First serious long-term relationship
• First time contemplating marriage
• First time contemplating marriage to a same-sex partner
  
• First white hair
• First sexual encounter involving more than two persons
• First nervous breakdown
• First speech at a wedding
  
• First visit to the psychiatrist
• First plane ride out of Malaysia
• First hamster and rat pets
  
• First newspaper article about me (and mum and Nanny too)
  
• First same-sex relationship
• First holiday in East Malaysia
• First time appearing as a VO and acting talent (haha laughable actually)
  
• First time I've lived away from my parents
  
• First tattoo
• First mmorpg experience
• First time I quit smoking & drinking
  
• First car (that's mine)
  
• First Chigger (I've always had Chigger, but it was the first time I thought of giving it a name)
• First D&D character making it past level 3
  
• First career change
• First blog

... the list is endless isn't it? There's a blessing in every one of those firsts and I wouldn't have done anything different. However, that doesn't mean to say that I'd relish having seconds or thirds where some of the things on that list are concerned.

*Derailment: While I'm contemplating the last week of my twenties. My brother is probably 'not' contemplating the last 22 days of his thirties. The bastard. (I mean that fondly)

I can't remember who it was that said to me recently, "Why do we need to have white hair to be seen as having wisdom?" Well, since I recently removed my first wisdom tooth, perhaps this as yet unnamed white hair has come to strike a balance on the wisdom scales. Mwah haha.

Well I don't know what the Thirties will hold for me, but I'll make sure there's a whole bunch of other 'firsts' to add to the list. Among them would be: First degree, first holiday in a country with seasons & first business.

But in the meantime, I'm grateful that in 7 days, it WON'T be my first great party with the people I care about MOST in this world.

Having firsts are great. Having more of the same with you guys makes me feel unbelievably blessed.

I'll see you guys soon!
Forget the party hats.
Bring the booze, an appetite
& a willingness to tea-party like the Edgar-ator!

The Edgar-ator!! (Part 2-single)

Just when you thought I'd forgotten all about those pictures that were neatly handed to me
in a thumb-drive... mwah ha ha...

Discworld

I haven't blogged in a long while, for good reason. I've been reading. Yes. I read. My manic humour has to come from somewhere. Inspired by some thing. And my thing of choice is Terry Pratchett's Discworld.

I've had moments when I couldn't touch his books. Periods that lasted 6 - 7 months. A year or more sometimes.

It's like the Baskin Robbins that I used to enjoy a pint at a time until my body finally rallied all of its bits into an angry pitch-fork wielding mob and collectively launched brown liquidy spew out of my mouth. It said, "Hey, Bile! And you, Stomach! Not you, Asshole! Grab these picket signs we're storming the Esophagus!"

Then I had to stay off the ice-creams for some time before I could launch myself into another delightful chocolatey binge.

Terry Pratchett is my indulgence. He takes the world as we know it and wraps it in a veil of twisted satire that doesn't actually do much veiling of anything. Instead, it reveals. Reveals the twisted truths of the world that we live in. In the privacy of our bedrooms or toilets where we happen to be reading, we can own up and laugh at ourselves, "hahahaha yeah I'm guilty of that. *snort* " Something we might only do with only the closest friends, and even then not all the time.

Terry Pratchett pokes fun at all of us. And I love it! Can't get enough of it!

And I'm going to share with you some of his literary gems. I don't even care if you don't get it. Like his books, this blog post is completely an indulgence for me. Mwahahaaa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here's a minor example of his wit...

"Everywhere he looked there were 'fat' geysers. Rings of ancient, congealed yellow fat, so old and rancid that even Sam Vimes wouldn't dip his toast in it unless he was really hungry, encircled sizzling little pools. There were even black floating bits, which on second glance turned out to be insects that were slow learners in a hot fat situation.

Vimes recalled something Igor had said. Sometimes dwarfs working the high strata, where the fat had congealed into a kind of tallow millennia ago, found strange ancient animals, perfectly preserved but fried to a crisp.

Probably... Vimes found himself laughing out of sheer exhaustion... probably battered to death.

Mwahahaaa.

The snow was falling heavily now, making the fat pools spit.

Vimes sagged to his knees. He ached all over. It wasn't just that his brain was writing cheques that his body couldn't cash. It had gone beyond that. Now his feet were borrowing money that his legs hadn't got, and his back muscles were looking for loose change under the sofa cushions."

~~~~~~~

Excerpt from his book, "The Fifth Elephant"
.... this excerpt reminds of my current place of work which I won't name but YOU know

Captain Carrot explains, "In Uberwald the dwarfs and trolls haven't settled their old grievances. There are large areas controlled by feudal vampire or werewolf clans, and there are also tracts with much higher than normal background magic. It is a chaotic place, indeed, and you'd hardly think you were in the Century of the Fruitbat. It is to be hoped that things will improve, however, and Uberwald will, happily, be joining the community of nations.'

Vimes and Vetinari exhchanged looks. Sometimes Carrot sounded like a civics essay written by a stunned choirboy.

"Well put,' said the Patrician at last. "But until that joysome day Uberwald remains a mystery inside a riddle wrapped in an enigma."

"Let me see if I've got this right," said Vimes. "Uberwald is like this big suet pudding that everyone's suddenly noticed, and now with this coronation as an excuse we've all got to rush there with knife, fork and spoon to shovel as much on our plates as possible?"

"Your grasp of political reality is masterly, Vimes. You lack only the appropriate vocabulary."