Hongkey Kong

Collon anyone?

A bit crunchy, yet still soft on the inside. Overall, quite chewy. Some people like to wash them first, but hey, if you're eating something named *collon*, you can't afford to be finnicky.

posted by rgucci @ 9:09:00 PM

Recently, a friend of mine complained about this encounter he had with a trio of rude plainclothes policemen. It was mid-day and he was walking back home when the trio (Hong Kong Police usually go around in threes. Must be feng shui...) accosted him and rudely demanded to see his ID card. They asked him who he was and what he was doing. My friend replied that he was on his way home. One of the coppers asked, "Why are you walking?", with a facial expression that my friend could only describe as the incarnation of hate, or hate incarnate as I poetically suggested.

Why are you walking?

Is it even possible to answer that intelligently without getting shot?

In my early naive and innocent days (basically just the first week) here in the land that is not quite China , I would have tried to interpret that as "Why are you walking home when you can take the bus or ride a cab?" I used to believe that something just got lost in the translation somehow.

Policemen in Hong Kong, a self-styled international city and under British rule till 1997, patrolling in the predominantly ex-patriot community of the Midlevels, are not at fault if they cannot speak intelligible English; but that was before--I have long learned not to ascribe coherent thought to certain people.

I have my own encounters with policemen, too. It's not that uncommon. As a matter of fact, I'm starting to wonder if I fit the racial profile of an al Quaeda[Yes, I misspelled it before! But all is right again in the world] suicide bomber.

My favorite, so far, happened just early this month. I was out for lunch one lazy Sunday, looking at the menus outside restaurants and trying to decide where to eat. Then this middle-aged man comes up to me and identifies himself as "Police" and asks for my ID card. He wasn't in uniform so I asked to see HIS identification. He was kind of surprised, but eventually his synapses must have started firing and he showed me his Police ID card.

I was expecting a cool star-shaped badge but there was none of that, and for the life of me I had no idea what an authentic Police ID was supposed to look like, so I just pretended to scrutinise it. Acting satisfied, I then took out my wallet and showed him my identification.

Then the strange questions started coming. Yes, the day is never complete without those. He asked me,

"Do you have any special thing in your clothes?"

I stifled the urge to reply, "Nothing you'll ever get your hands on.", partly because I assumed he had a gun but mostly because the wit would remain unappreciated and answered with a blank and uncomprehending glassy stare.

In their defense, I think they're just doing what they were trained to do. Somewhere in the curriculum must be a checklist of things to consider suspicious when patrolling. Checking out lunch menus and walking home at mid-day might be at the top of that list. They see one thing and they react appropriately. Stimulus-response.

It's easy to take advantage of that, really, because another thing they have been conditioned to do is to be extra friendly to tourists. So you can just pretend to be lost and ask them how to get to so-and-so tourist attraction and they will happily show you the way. Some even forget that they were conducting a random inspection in the first place.

Yay! Three cheers for Pavlov.

One word of advice though: if any of them start drooling, it's time to run.

posted by rgucci @ 5:01:00 AM

It's post Valentine's Day again. I just realised that it's been over a year since my very first blog entry. And I got, what? Less than ten entries? Funny how time flies when you're being unproductive.

Reading my entries back then, I feel I have to make a few updates:

• Nothing catasthropic has happened to my Treo since I got it exchanged. It's amazing how you can be more careful when the warranty expires.


• Still no gravy at KFC but who cares, even gravy doesn't taste good with H5N1.


• I've outgrown palabok cravings and take my tequila at home.


• I've moved into a new flat a few months back, so my kitchen isn't a fun house of claustrophobia anymore. Well, not exactly. It's an open kitchen, meaning you can see, and sometimes smell, all the unwashed dishes when you enter my living room.


• My previously lauded herbs growing on the window sill have long since been dumped in the trash, plant, pot and all. What? You have to water them?


• I still hold to my theory that all these animal diseases jumping to humans are a result of esoteric sexual practices of farmers who have too much time in their hands and no high-speed Internet connection. Yes, I realise I've worn out the Farmer Joe and World Wide Web reference so many times!


• But I have yet to find snot in my soup.

So that's a whole year's worth of musings from me to you.

To end on a romantic note (it was Valentine's day yesterday after all), here is a nugget of wisdom from a web-slinging sage...

The story of my life... save the world, lose the girl.

posted by rgucci @ 3:39:00 AM

I get a lot of interesting things in my mailbox. I'm talking about a real mailbox, with a key and slot and real letters in them. Mostly bills, notices from the building management, and discount coupons for blodgy woks and pans. Today I got something in an unmarked, unsealed envelope-- a ticket for an event called "Whirlwind Date".

Now I've never heard of anything like this before. There's whirlwind romance, sure, but whirlwind dating? Paranoid bozer that I am, I think that it might be a practical joke. So, geeky bozer that I am, I research it on the internet. True enough, the event is real, dates check out, and the telephone numbers match with the ones on the web site.

The ticket has my name (spelled incorrectly). And I called up the number [I must confess my intention was to find out if I can somehow cancel and get a *refund*... hey these are tough times and it is quite pricey!] and everything checks out okay. Now I've got this strange feeling... who gave me this? Either someone thinks I desperately need to go on a date, or someone wants me to go and hopefully meet me there. Scientific bozer (buck-toothed nerd?) that I am, I turn to Ockham's Razor, which gives me the most obvious and simplest explanation: I'm totally hot.

From the web site, this is how it works:

"On the evening of the event, show up 15 minutes early. Upon check in you'll be given a name tag, match sheet and drink ticket. You'll have a few minutes to catch your breath, order a free drink from the waitress and listen to a brief run-down of the event by our MC. Then your host will seat you at one of many numbered tables for two. The MC will blow the whistle and you're off on your first WhirlWindDate.

"After three minutes you'll hear the whistle again which means it's time for your next WhirlWindDate. The men will get up and move to the next table where you'll have another three minute date, the whistle will sound, and so on ... After each date you check yes or no in one of the boxes beside the other persons' number on your match sheet indicating whether or not you'd like to see that person again.

"At the end of the evening you hand in your match sheet and within 24 hours you’ll be emailed a list of your successful matches. If you both checked Yes, you’ll be given each others’ email address.

"Once you've received your successful matches, the rest is up to you!"

So should I give this a burl? It sounds a bit silly. Talking for just 3 minutes? Assuming you split that in half, plus the overhead of smiles, nods, and polite u-huhs, that should give each person just under a minute to say something. Here are my one-liners so far:

Hi (lopsided smile). I'm ____________ (think of hot sounding name from the Old Testament).
Would you like to meet my dog?
Are you going to use your drink ticket?
My ideal evening involves dairy products and a high speed internet connection.
If you didn't want me staring at 'em, you should have worn a bra!
No, wait! Don't tick no!
Well, at least I DIDN'T pay to get a date tonight, stupid B#$%&.

It's still pretty rough, I know, but give me a bit of time to work my whiz-bang magic and I'll have everyone swooning.

posted by rgucci @ 10:00:00 PM

Ok, I can't not talk about X2: X-Men United. The movie is just too cool; we can even forgive Bryan Singer for the slight departure from the comic book plots and the odd inconsistencies here and there. It's just that he hit it right on the nail. This movie shows what X-Men is really about--acceptance and peaceful co-existence. Enough about the bullshit. I really liked it because I got to see my favorite superheroes using their mutant powers, all splendidly done with great graphics and special effects. Brilliant!

I'm sorry if I throw in a spoiler or two, but if you haven't seen the movie yet, get a life...

Iceman is really cool (well, you saw that pun coming, didn't you?), although breathing into someone else's soda just to make it cold is just unsanitary... public health officials would have their eyebrows up, specially with SARS in mind. I was expecting him to turn his body into ice like he does in the comics I guess he doesn't have that much control yet. I bet Rogue would find that very interesting. Ixnae on freezing the entire river, too, but I can explain that away with him not being able to control his powers yet. The ice wall at the X Mansion was cool, though. What I don't understand is why Rogue, and not Bobby, was the one attempting to pilot the plane? Oh, well. I guess he's the modern kind of guy who is totally comfortable with women taking on important roles... Yea, Rogue, go save the whole team while I sit back and do nothing... what? You don't know how to fly a plane?...can't even make out with you... geez... what are you good for then?...

Pyro (sans the Aussie accent) needs someone to give him a black Zippo lighter. Maybe Magneto hands it out to new recruits.

Prof. X rocks! Making an entire roomfull of people think that time just stopped brings many interesting applications to my mind. It also gives me the shudders... a bald man in a wheelchair, who can literally get away with doing anything and control your mind, in a school full of young, troubled and vulnerable kids.

Cyclops is an N-Sync fan. That explains why Jean is looking for someone else to roll in the proverbial hay with. Hence the overcompensation with the fast cars and fast bikes, like he's trying to run away from something... a wheelchair perhaps?

More next time...

posted by rgucci @ 10:50:00 AM

Who was that masked man?
My name is John...

Hong Kong is a shopping paradise; with an epidemic looming over our heads, people are shopping-- shopping for masks. You can buy them everywhere; in pharmacies, even in street corners and newspaper stands. Leave it to SARS to bring another business opportunity. The artificial demand makes it a lucrative business, too. A pack of 5 disposable allegedly surgical masks will set you back 20 HKD. 4 bucks for a mask? Geez, talk about taking advantage of mass hysteria. Some street hawkers are even wearing white lab gowns for that air of medical authenticity.

The masks come in a whole range of colours. There's clinical white, conservative blue, flashy pink, and the icky-black grayish ones which look like you've been using them for quite a few days. Wearing them on the streets does look a bit strange. The first guy who starts marketing Hello Kitty surgical masks is sure to hit a goldmine...

You can appreciate the attempts at creativity of some people. There are these little cloth-covered cardboard things you can put over your mask which come in different colors and designs, so folks can still be safe and wear color-coordinated outfits! As for me, I'm still looking for that cowboy hat that goes with the kerchief over my face... maybe some spurrs for my boots, too... oh, and a mangy mare.

I wore one when I went to the doctor the other day. No flu-like symptoms, thank God. Anyway, I was Scooby-doo scared of being exposed to some other sick patient at the clinic so I tried wearing one. ER and Chicago Hope parallels aside, it's really uncomfortable, not to mention the false sense of security that it fosters. I'd feel safer with those gas masks the coalition forces are wearing in Iraq to protect against dirty bombs. Plus, it would look really, really cool.

Speaking of going to the doctor, mine calls me John. With all my names he must have just picked out the one he liked most. Which is fine with me, although now he thinks I'm either very inattentive, or deaf, since the nurse has to call me 3 or 4 times before I respond. Which is still fine, since last time I checked, being deaf is not in the list of symptoms for SARS.

posted by rgucci @ 10:34:00 PM

One last thing--if atypical pneumonia becomes an epidemic, is it still atypical?

posted by rgucci @ 6:46:00 AM