Les Soldes

Dear Maizy

We have been sold out again this year. The people whom Agnes B designs for (presumably young people who look like the models she is fond of using) can scarcely afford her creations. To add insult, the store has offered a 10% discount for any item purchased during their on-going sale. I now have an entirely different opinion of her since she re-branded Dr Martens' (cherry) boots for want of a new way to fleece us.

Either she has hit some sort of creative block or she enjoys hiding behind that price tag of hers so she has an excuse for not selling anything. I have reason to suspect that she may have in fact taken the year off in the Bahamas, leaving her interns at the helm in Paris.

Were we really too naive to have worshiped her so much in the past, spending hours on end flipping through her freebie catalogs and posters? I have used up all of the pencils you snatched from their countertop, but still have all of the promotional condoms in my drawer.

Tastefully yours

Andy

Terror For Sale

Dear Maizy

I had a close call yesterday whilst shopping for biscuits and tea at M&S. Had been feeling poorly for the past week or so, and decided to perk things up a little by doing away with the usual digestives / darjeeling diet. As I was walking towards the cashier, I saw, to my astonishment, a sticker proclaiming the body temperature of a visitor to Alexandra Hospital affixed to a pair of jeans hanging on the racks. I am afraid that no one is safe from terrorism, not even the very mild-mannered crowd at M&S. Amidst growing concern regarding the spread of the swine flu epidermic, this act comes accross as a serious threat to public safety. There may very well be a new army of extremists living on infected farms just to raise their body temperatures, before they are sent by their ruthless leaders to shop at popular stores all over town.

We are doomed, for surely we cannot expect M&S to deliver tea to our doorsteps. This time I am afraid the terrorists have finally succeeded in creating a credible and effective warning to strike fear into our hearts.

Yours till the bitter end

Andy

记事本

我看见自己写下的心情
把自己放在卑微的后头 ...

Not At All Sober

Dear Maizy

I've done the unthinkable. Those bottles of wine that were left in the kitchen from the previous century ... finished all of them! The in-flight Vin De Pays which I nicked from Swissair was truly outstanding, and has acquired a distinctive aftertaste from baking under the stove for so many years.

Wish you were here to share some of it, even if it's just an excuse to hold your hand while drinking. Oh but I've no idea how to tell you, or where you are right now. There is no greater misery than wine.

Intoxicated, irrelevant and yours

Andy

Winning a Soft Toy at an Arcade Claw Machine

Dear Maizy

I have just completed my research into arcade machines that use a mechanical claw to extract a soft toy. I've always tried to use the momentum of the swinging claw to fling those toys into the collection bin for you without much success. I now know why.

Winning a toy is not a matter of skill. There is a control box in the machine that COUNTS the number of times the player will lose before he/ she is allowed to WIN. That is a fixed number. It can be set ridiculously high!

In order to win, you will have to observe other people playing and count the number of losers. That is the magic number. Play only when the counter inside has reached that magic number.

There is another setting inside that randomises the gripping strength of the claw. Which means even if it is the winning turn, the chances to win are still 50-50.

You see, we've been had all these years. If we converted those tokens we've wasted to cash can you imagine how many times we could've seen X-Men in the movieplex with large popcorn tubs...

Your partner in regret

Andy

Too Hot

Dear Maizy

It's 31 degrees in the shade right now, and I am really melting. The air conditioner broke down last week, and only an electric fan is left to circulate the warm air in our apartment.

Blogging in this weather makes me imagine myself to be a stranded explorer in the Sahara, writing my final notes into a pocket diary, full of apology for my truancy and not forgetting a list of high scores for the games I've played on my PSP.

Will you wear that black Audrey Hepburn dress to my funeral if they found my remains? I don't think anything on earth defines elegance better than that. Most of my relatives will go in their usual daily attire, which isn't very flattering (to the poor deceased).

I know Gary Ng's starlets will be gliding about the palour in their head-turning attire if the same happened to him. He also has the added advantage of having a beer hostess in his entourage who could see to the refreshments and catering. Heck, they could even have an Oscar style ceremony with video recaps of his finer moments on the silver screen. But for me, all I have left is you.

I can only hope that you will set aside some time in your schedule to make a small speech about the good memories you have of me, and how much of an inspiration I was in your early years. Please do not provide details of our arguments, or that you secretly wished that the plants in my garden would wither cos it will hurt my aunt's feelings. You may come backstage and tell me the bad stuff later on.

It's best to plan such things beforehand. If you could spend a minute or so drafting that speech I suppose you could have it done before the week is over. On my part, I shall mention leaving you my stamp collection in my will. You can eBay it if you want, but do keep the James Dean stamp from the US to remember me by.

Yours till the last breath

Andy

Nobody (Ever) Has Enough Money

Dear Maizy

I kept thinking over my baked rice this evening, if you had left me because I wasn't rich enough to do what we wanted to do. This strange thought crept into my head when I suddenly recalled there being an afternoon when you were staring longingly at a new Porsche in front of the Mariott Hotel while we were sharing a melting sundae. I had insensitively tried to divert your attention by pointing out the importance of sliced fruit in desserts, which caused you to slap me in the head with your messy hands.

I now know it was the wrong thing to have said after reflecting upon Gary Ng's exploits. I should have led you over to the Porsche and given you a heroic and passionate peck on your cheek, so we could at least imagine ourselves living the high life for a few minutes.

Perhaps Gary Ng's higher purpose was for all of us to learn the hard facts of life.

I am a changed man, do call me soon.

Yours in enlightenment

Andy