Yes, today we’ll be looking at the horrible 9-letter phrase that is used over a million times a day. The moving duo that sends tears down your cheeks. Or maybe not.
So, time flies.
With what? Wings – I mean, just wings? Or does it have a supersonic propeller fitted with an forcefield shield? Like the ones in science fiction?
The phrase itself is questionable. It’s supposed to mean time ‘goes by quickly’, hence the word ‘fly’, but ‘fly’ itself doesn’t represent speed. It shows the medium of travel. You could fly at 0.0001 km/h, and it would still be called flying. Flaw or not?
I shouldn’t be picking on this. It is a metaphor after all, and metaphors aren’t supposed to be realistic, at least not in real time.
Ah, does time not fly by when you’re typing nonsense? 😉
Every time it comes to passing laws, it takes around 15.234321 protests, 1292.0121 hours, and 68.34 government officials. Just kidding. But I’m not kidding about these laws: they’re really the pride and joy of the 21st century. Even though they may not exist. But they do, according to dumblaws.com. Or do they?
Switzerland: “It is illegal to flush the toilet after 10 PM.” Champion, definitely.
Singapore: “If you are convicted of littering three times, you will have to clean the streets on Sundays with a bib on saying, “I am a litterer.” They sure are toughies.
United Kingdom: With the exception of carrots, most goods may not be sold on Sunday.
Philippines: “Cars whose license plates end with a 1 or 2 are not allowed on the roads on Monday, 3 or 4 on Tuesday, 5 or 6 on Wednesday, 7 or 8 on Thursday, and 9 or 0 on Friday from 7:00 AM.” It’s pretty environmental, but that’s another consideration for getting your license plate.
And that’s a few of the finest county laws! Aren’t we all proud.
One may picture ‘summer holidays’ as days at the beach: rollicking in the waves, building sandcastles, sunbathing…or perhaps trips to air-conditioned malls topped off with ice-cream. Mmm.
My summer holiday up to this point has been grumbling on the sofa with my dad’s Kindle and frantically scrubbing my bedroom floor. How I got to doing that? One teensy push, and my cup of fruit juice somersaulted across the desk, fruit juice splattering over my desk. Onto my books. The floor. The cupboards. I have no idea how it flew so far.
Obviously I didn’t want my parents OR anyone else to find out, so I snuck to the bathroom and stole two towels and the Aloe Vera hand soap, and began scrubbing. Oh, the pain of it.
That was after lunch. The entire morning was spent groaning over some Rosie Dunne’s horrible life: credits to Cecelia Ahern’s ‘Where Rainbows End’, Kindle Price US$8.50. I’m not too convinced about the Kindle technology, either – it’s only my first book but my eyes are already exhausted. Probably because of the way the page flashes when you ‘flip the page’. Thanks, Amazon.
Sorry for being so cranky. Today is the thirteenth, after all. 🙂
I thought the World Cup was about soccer. Not animals.
Now it seems that the final will decide the fate of four, not two, parties. Yup, it’s Spain VS the Netherlands, and Pa-ul the Octopus VS Mani the Parakeet.
Brief background: Paul the Octopus has correctly ‘predicted’ all of Germany’s matches this year, including their loss to Spain and their win over Uruguay. Mani’s owner claimed his parakeet predicted the outcomes of the four quarterfinals. For tonight’s match, Paul is, again, sucking up to Spain whilst Mani is betting on the Dutch. Some showdown.
First, Paul. There are a few theories floating around as to how he makes his decisions. (I’ll only address two.)
1. By color. (apologies for the crappy flag arrangement.)
Paul is, after all, an octopus. So would it be surprise for it to have a favourite color? Yellow, perhaps?
Between the German and Uruguayan flags, the German flag has much more red and yellow in it (red 100% – 0%; yellow 33.3% – <20%). Same with the Argentine, English (they actually look close), Ghanaian (they equal on red but the German flag has more yellow in it), and Australian flags. Spain has more red AND more yellow, and so was chosen.
The strange case here is the Serbian flag. (And perhaps the Ghanian flag.) A further hypothesis is that Paul likes red more than yellow, but when there are equal amounts of red in both flags, he goes for the one with more yellow in it.
Is it even possible for an octopus to be so picky, and so double-color oriented? I’ll leave that to the octopode experts.
NOTE: This doesn’t mean that countries with more red in their flags are better. That’s absurd.
Some people think that Paul always picks the country in the right box. Wrong. He picked Germany over England when Germany was in the left box. But maybe he was just fickle that day.
The point is, much of the world believes in Paul’s predictions. And when the world AND a ‘psychic octopus’ is pitched against you, it’s hard not to feel nervous.
About Mani, I haven’t seen his quarter-final pickings, so I can’t note anything down yet. Will update as soon as possible.
Perhaps, a few years later, we’ll look back and think how silly we were to believe in a pair of so-called ‘psychic’ animals. Then and again, one of them could be psychic. Oh well.
Lou is a hardworking soul. In fact, his life is ‘juggling meetings and events’, rushing around like clockwork, attending the first half of a meeting only to miss the rest to join a second. He’s pretty much ‘in two places at the same time’, as Ahern puts it: even what he says often carries insincerity or double meanings. Day after day, week after week, Lou and his Blackberry go round and round again, never skipping a beat.
And yet, he is despised by his family. His brothers and sisters. His children. His wife. Why? He’s a workaholic and a No-no-family man.
Count him out of events. He may say he’ll try his best to go while flashing his porcelain smile, but he only ever makes it for dessert. He might’ve bought a huge house for his family and a six-foot wide bed for his wife and himself, but while his body is with his family, his heart is elsewhere. Buried in the morning post, or the evening news. Never listening to his wife and children, and not even attending his fiver-year-old daughter Lucy’s school play.
But then every man driving in the wrong direction deserves a second chance. An opportunity to find life, to find what is right and experience it for real. Along comes Gabe: a homeless man, though surprisingly wise. Lou gives him a job as mailman of the building, delivering letters up and down the floors, and Gabe quickly becomes a new junior star. Not exactly what Lou expects, or wants, for that matter.
Jealousy comes over Lou as Gabe seems to bounce higher with every passing day while he tumbles into the everlasting crevasse of trouble. Gabe also, oddly, resembles Lou – could they eventually switch places? Would the workaholic end up begging on the streets, abandoned by his family? Or will he change just in time?
This Christmas story is highly moral, continuously stressing that we should appreciate time and family, and not take anything for granted. I do admit that these are incredibly cliche morals, and some parts of the story are unrealistic, but, to my surprise, The Gift does deliver these in a refreshing and touching turn of events. It is hard to put yourself in Lou’s shoes: how many of us are that obsessed with work? (Well, one characteristic world climbers may share with Lou is that they’re never satisfied with what they have.) But what’s brilliant is that the message will ring clear to any audience.
Trust me, you won’t regret reading this novel. It’s a great investment of time, and it just might save you a lot of trouble later on. Appreciate it while you can, Lou Suffern.
When it’s a blazing 33 degrees Celsius outside, the unlikely MTR emerges as the ultimate luxury. What else would comfort as much as a soothing breeze, shade, and peace and quiet? Note: You do have to pay transport fees, but at least there’re no extra cooling costs. Or are there? Perhaps that’s behind the recent inflation.
The clouds are swarming back despite a shower last night – no clear blue sky, but less heat. Guess there’re pros and cons to every second of the water cycle. 😛 Same thing with blinds: pull them down and it gets cooler but darker. Pull them up again and you get your light and heat back. Joy.
Wow. Big blinds. 🙂 And they’re solar-powered. I wonder how that works.
Nothing to do? Write. It’s horribly time-consuming, but isn’t that what much of life is for?