Wooohooo~~~ heeee.... hello hello flippy!
Glad you like the epic tale that featured many unwilling and unknowing parties lol.
Had been meaning to tell you... this period of leave you had... I had a wonderful time hanging out with you darling. But I know work has to go on, and the best thing I can do for you is to be supportive! I sure hope going to and from work with you helps a little to make you feel more upbeat =) I absolutely have to declare... christmas dinner was good! =) I like the turkey and ham and even the punch. And the whole atmosphere. Compared to last year, I think I enjoyed myself even more because it was not so tense and scary for me anymore, having met errr I think your entire extended family lol... well at least those you know and love. So this year, I find it more cheerful, easy and happy to run around, make bad jokes, hug bubbles when I'm slightly squeamish, help your parents out in the kitchen and yes... even sing carols lol... Plus, I had so many presents! Gosh... heee... but that means I have to get them presents next year too haha... Hmmm.....
So fast.... Christmas has gone by... and birthday comes knocking... ha ha... I shall be... 26 this year.... I think. You! Don't get me anything expensive ar! And dun tire your little flippy self to do or arrange anything okie... =) It makes me feel a whole lot better and comfy to spend a few hours on the day with you, since you are working I know =)
Some things are never too cheesy to say and never said too much (at least I hope), for some things and some words, I would like to hold on and honour and remember for as long as I can.
I love you. With all my heart. And fatty arteries. Muack!
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
One Epic Tale to End the Year
All glorious legends of the fight for freedom and survival live to tell, and this is one such story.
This tale is of the charismatic former soviet leader the Great Flips, one of strong character and intuitive foresight. And what is the story about? Well, if you have not been paying attention, or have some reading deficiency, the author will say it again: the fight for freedom and survival.
“Do we really have to go in?”
After a long dreaded pause, the Great Flips replied,” yes, my minions. Much as I don’t like it, we will have to push through the masses and retrieve what is precious to us, and ensure victory in our war to survive.”
In the secretive Ops Room of Flips, her aides were silent, each with their respective deep pensive preoccupations. “What were we talking about again?” Everyone ignored Pooh’s question of ignorance and forgetfulness. It was typical of him and everyone had become accustomed to his usual unwitting sabotage of discussions with questions like these which attempt to helpfully sum up the discussion topics but was never really quite useful nor productive. All but the polar bears ignored poor Pooh. They, well, rolled their eyes in embarrassment and pain. Some more astute readers might ask then, why is a bumbling Pooh a crucial aide in discussions of wars and great emergencies? The truth is, wars are unpredictable and there must be different people who play different roles in order to win. Readers might also be familiar with the same theory expounded by Tolkien who had his most important task of melting a certain ring carried out by a midget.
“We will move in early to avoid some of the masses, maybe in the morning,” pondered Flips, scratching an invisible beard with a small cute blue flipper.
“Morning, as in early morning is it?”
There was silence again as everyone ignored Pooh’s rhetoric question. It was then decided that in order to ensure smoothness in their tactical maneuver, they shall have to adopt Hitler’s famous ‘pincer movement’. Evidently, Hitler had been a great fan of chilli crabs. It was decided the camouflaged swat team had to provide cover for everyone to make their way out of Flip’s hideout in the zoo where they were currently having the meeting. Ammunition had to be signed out from the secret warehouse stash of Flips, war fatigue equipment had to be issued. Everyone proceeded to get busy, moving around to do their respective jobs getting ready to storm out of the zoo and proceed to their destination to fight a large-scale elusive enemy. At the ammunition warehouse behind the Ops Room, Pooh for once asked a useful question, ”will we need something more potent than conventional weapons?” Immediately, Flips slapped pooh on the back with a flipper stained with bits of msg from complementary rice crackers during the meeting, and said, “yes, Pooh, yes. You’re right, we need something more. This cannot be avoided. Send in the chemical warfare specialist.” She was the best they had in that field, she was elusive and stealthy, being able to step in and out of places without so much as a sound, capable of moving around enemy troops, and dealing with them with the large array of chemical weapons at her disposal. She was fittingly codenamed: Drugz.
“Where’s Drugz?” screamed Flips. At that, General Sir Pale-Wing had come in with the report that Drugz had missed the meeting just now because she was still sleeping and nobody dared to wake her for fear of her mysterious fury. Fortunately, she was now awake but taking one of her usual hour-shower. “Dratty drats, we’ll have to move without her then. Well, she wouldn’t need the camouflaged swat team anyway. She’ll be able to weave in and out stealthily, and make her way to our destination quietly. Everyone, draw your ammunition and equipment now! Move, Move Move!”
At the Logistics Room, it was a mass of confusion, especially since Pooh was partly in charge of it. Everyone lined up to get their helmets from trusty Helmet Lai, while her partner Billy Bomber Bau was barking at them to stand in line. The Great Flips shouted across the room, “Lai! I need a hole at the top of my helmet for my tuft of blue hair to stick out, and by the way, do the helmets come in pink? Oh, never mind, I need to colour-code. Give Pooh a size 14 helmet! His head is too big!”
After a long period of contemplation, Helmet Lai muttered in reply, “the largest size is 12! No 14!” Great Flips shot her a dirty look, and hastily, Lai proceeded to make a custom helmet. With her specialties of precise mental calculation and damage control, she took two Size 7 helmets and patched them together for Pooh. Meanwhile, the queue for the helmets took slightly longer as Billy took charge of issuing and they could not quite make out what he was saying.
Soon, everyone was gathered in full force at the assembly area, waiting for their great illustrious leader to address them. Drugz, as usual, was still nowhere to be seen but was reported to have gone ahead first.
With stern, piercing eyes, Flips proudly inspected her army. Everyone was ready and dressed up. Fondly, she wanted to take a good look at everybody before she addressed them. As she walked past the ranks, she giggled at Sir Pale-Wing’s ankle socks, eyed Helmet Lai’s makeup, adjusted Billy’s sailormoon outfit and lastly, scratched Pooh’s perpetually out-of-place tummy. Clearing her throat, she began, “my comrades, the time for great changes is upon us. And with our small paws, flipper and what have you, we will exact this mighty revolution! Many years from now, rolling around sleepily in your beds, you shall remember this great momentous day when you play a part in realizing our goals and beliefs! What we want is a swift, quiet, casualty-free victory, so this is what we shall do. The two fat polar bears, yes you two sitting stumpily there on the marble floor, will pretend to be two massive ice blocks to provide us cover to make it past the icy enclosure outside so we can get out of the zoo. As the swat team, you are responsible to swat at any resistance, and guard the enclosure after we’re gone to ensure our retreat route. Swat violently at any foolish mynahs that dare come near also!” Billy echoed in unison. There was an awkward pause and the shuffling of feet to wait for the moment to pass amongst the ranks as everyone knew about Flips and Billy’s mysterious deep-rooted hatred for mynahs.
Soon, everyone was ready and started moving out. While the two polar bears slumped down, still as rocks, on the icy floor, the rest hid behind them. Slowly and skillfully, the two bears shifted their bottoms from side to side, edging nearer and nearer to the gates. Everyone crept along silently, safe behind the gigantic camouflage. All that is, except poor Pooh. His feet shuffled loudly everytime they moved, and everyone stared at him. And when they moved, it always took poor Pooh a second more to understand what was going on, and tried to catch up with the rest. Everyone looked at Flips, but she did not say anything as she had covered her eyes with her flippers; watching Pooh at such moments can be unbearable for many’s stomachs and voice boxes. Finally, just as they were reaching the gates, everyone held their breath anxiously while Flips fumbled for a copy she had made of the key, when all of a sudden, Pooh called out in jubilation, “let’s go!” There were hushed threats of certain death coming from all around Pooh. And as he tried to say something else, they persuaded him to keep quiet.
After a considerable amount of effort digging into her handbag of makeup, handphone and pink poodles, she triumphantly held up the key. As everyone heaved a sigh of relief and looked up towards the gates, they saw it open and beyond it, stood Pooh, tapping his happy yellow feet in a pair of paper hotel slippers from his previous Genting trip.
“I tried to tell you guys the door was open, you told me to keep it open yesterday after I squeezed through it what.”
Pretending none of the above happened, Flips closed and locked the gate, whistled for Pooh, and after he squeezed back in through the bars, proceeded to unlock it again. Everyone gave a silent cheer as Flips threw open the gates, and stormed out. All except the polar bears and Billy who had to guard the enclosure.
Soon after, they arrived at their destination. With bated breath, they stared at the enormous enemy, and what waited within. “It sure is large,” chirped Pooh helpfully. “It’s even named appropriately. Look, Giant Hypermarket!”
Nodding dismissively, Flips reminded her army again, “everyone knows what they are to get, right? Sir Pale-Wing, you job is just to secure the chickens. Let me remind you again not to grab a huge chicken, like last time and it wouldn’t cook!” Muttering under his breath, Sir Pale-Wing charged in first, with Lai following stumpily behind, her fringe swaying madly in the aircon wind to a bad tune of their own.
In the distance, they spotted their comrade, Drugz, floating around the huge shelves, weaving skillfully past careless shop assistants unchecked. Flips and Pooh caught up with her just as she looked back at them, nodding and signaling them to stop. They waited anxiously, as Drugz stepped slowly towards the wall. This was a dangerous task and fortunately, one which Drugz was also good at, other than falling and getting out of weird spots quietly. She stood for long moments facing the wall, examining carefully for signs of booby traps on the possibly fake aircon remote. Deeming it safe and being just a normal remote control, she gave them the signal to proceed, which was a loud hacking cough.
That glorious day, all went well for the great army of Flips. Under her brilliant guidance, everyone was able to secure their objectives. The two pink poodles grabbed quality Malaysian cucumbers to make preserved cucumbers, while Drugz hauled off successfully, popcorn and boxes of tissue. Pooh had managed to secure packets of the precious rice crackers and Flips found the precious, much sought after, hairgel. In minutes, everyone victoriously gathered at the cashier, and Flips silently rolled her eyes once again at the gigantic chicken Sir Pale-Wing had still got, despite friendly reminders. Now, for the final task: a most difficult one for most of them there who were largely mathematically illiterate. Lai eyed the cashier registering their booty carefully, mentally calculated the sums and paid with her card. Only after Lai looked through the receipt and nodded at Flips approvingly, did everyone heaved a sigh of victory.
This year, they would finally be able to have a packed and happy Christmas, decked with simply too much food. Oh, there is never too much food, according to one whom we are all fond of. Yes, Pooh was happy that day, giggling in his sleep, dreaming of chickens roasting in the oven, and marshmallows swirling all around.
Makeover Moveover
Yes, its time! =) I'm astonished why I did not get this going sooner. The blog shall go through some reconstruction. I want happy pictures, happy sounds, happy posts.
It is Christmas, you know. Soon.
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It is Christmas, you know. Soon.
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Monday, December 11, 2006
Sociology Research Paper Proposal
In Singapore, many people travel by public transport. In my paper, I propose to examine the dynamics of crowds on public transport.
Singapore is a relatively small place, yet the variety of research participant (non-voluntary and certainly unpaid) is astoundingly large. To cramp all these different groups of people on the BMW T series is a highly exciting and refreshing sociology research, which frankly surprises me why no Singaporean sociologist has thought of writing an in-depth research paper to vie for some prestigious award like the Nobel Prize, or in smaller magnitude, publication on the Straits times forum. As mentioned above, the BMW T series is a simple formula used by some careless twit who forgot to put down his name thus allowing me to freely plagarize him. It stands for Bus, MRT, Walk & Taxi.
In other words, the well-connected public transport system painstakingly set in place by our illustrious, hardworking and dedicated government. I am fully in support and full of praise for them, of the modernity and motivation they have geared us towards. This is, of course, needless to say my own humble honest opinion and in no way, trying to find a way to mysteriously up my incoming year end bonus.
The groups that make up the masses on our public transport is certainly difficult to categorize according to conventional groupings such as race, gender or age. However, for the purpose of such an intelligent and laborious piece of research, I shall try to describe certain characteristics of these groups so that we may understand better their rationale, and hopefully, predict their likely next course of action so that rife staring incidents and fights that are seldom too afriad to take place be at least be mentally pictured.
One example that comes to mind immediately are school kids. These days, with the advanced technology from handphones, and poor hearing in our youths, they have taken to playing their music very loudly via their handphones. This mannerism is baffling as we are not a communist state and there is certainly no need to share your music with everyone. In addition, these groups of youths, in my opinion, cannot even be labelled deviant for the simple reason that their choice of music is utterly disappointing and downright childish.
The next group stretches age limits and defies categorizing, thus I have been forced to call them the working class. These people come in all shapes and forms, all ages and different gender. Or at least, they subscribe to different personal gender assumptions. And most certainly, they come in all sorts of smells. Their attire need not necessarily correspond to their attitude. Some examples include the well-dressed working man, decked in expensive shirts, tie, pants and shoes, who for some strange reason, believe their bags need to lie on the floor, often between their legs. While there is no proof that it hints of any sexual preference, their posture certainly says what they think of their own state of health because many of these firmly believe their backs require a rest after a hard day's work and leans exclusively on the poles which most normal people perceive to be an elusive, often under-utilized handheld support for themselves. There is also the female version who is all dressed prim and office, with expensive bags and shoes but open their suspiciously smelly mouths and motor off loudly like aunties in a wet market about the office and how they have been treated so unfairly at work, or how poor the dress sense of some of their dear fellow colleagues is, and question excessively in exasperation how they cannot comprehend why people would want to badmouth them behind their backs.
On the other extreme, there are the less-privileged groups, such as the classic pregnant woman. In singaporean context and culture, it is conventional to quickly close your eyes or open up the newspapers to put the pregnant woman out of view. Often, these pregnant women deserve to be commended because they can usually defy inertia efficiently and stand properly on the public transport. Fortunately, she usually has her hands free also, and this helps her to have free hands to rub her tummy or clutch at somebody's hair should she lose balance. Once again, this can only happen with credit given to the previous example of the working man and his tired companion the bag who occupies precious standing space and handheld support.
The next group is the germs, which is not short for the germans but the average sick singaporean who coughs and sneezes at an admirable fast pace. Once again, their political inclination is difficult to tell as they seem to be of the opinion that while they cannot share their seats and standing space, they will however share with you their germs and bad breath by spraying it ala aerosal cans into the atmosphere.
Statistics have shown that Singapore is more or less a conservative nation where promiscuous sex is not as high as some other countries. However, I contend that these numbers are not accurate as these surveys are usually done on club crowds and hotblooded teenagers. The highest number of people who sleep around is on the public transport. However, in objectivity, the author would like to point out that these people who sleep around usually do it alone. They are average Singaporeans who are simply overworked and once seated can convincingly drift off to sleep, or in most cases, slip into total unconsciousness, which translates into nodding their greasy heads into fellow passengers, and once again, mysteriously communistic as they tend to want to share their salivation with those around.
In conclusion, I hope to be granted maximum research funds to allow for a more thorough examination into these groups and the dynamics of juxtaposing them all on the public transport. As requested by the author, research funds need not come in monetary forms such as MRT and bus concession cards, but also in the forms of food and tidbits as these can help sustain the life of the author while he endures on his painstaking and hopefully, soon to end endeavour of travelling on public transport. In retrospect, it is no wonder why the MRT speaker system never fails to thank you for travelling with them, after having to put with all these distractions.
Singapore is a relatively small place, yet the variety of research participant (non-voluntary and certainly unpaid) is astoundingly large. To cramp all these different groups of people on the BMW T series is a highly exciting and refreshing sociology research, which frankly surprises me why no Singaporean sociologist has thought of writing an in-depth research paper to vie for some prestigious award like the Nobel Prize, or in smaller magnitude, publication on the Straits times forum. As mentioned above, the BMW T series is a simple formula used by some careless twit who forgot to put down his name thus allowing me to freely plagarize him. It stands for Bus, MRT, Walk & Taxi.
In other words, the well-connected public transport system painstakingly set in place by our illustrious, hardworking and dedicated government. I am fully in support and full of praise for them, of the modernity and motivation they have geared us towards. This is, of course, needless to say my own humble honest opinion and in no way, trying to find a way to mysteriously up my incoming year end bonus.
The groups that make up the masses on our public transport is certainly difficult to categorize according to conventional groupings such as race, gender or age. However, for the purpose of such an intelligent and laborious piece of research, I shall try to describe certain characteristics of these groups so that we may understand better their rationale, and hopefully, predict their likely next course of action so that rife staring incidents and fights that are seldom too afriad to take place be at least be mentally pictured.
One example that comes to mind immediately are school kids. These days, with the advanced technology from handphones, and poor hearing in our youths, they have taken to playing their music very loudly via their handphones. This mannerism is baffling as we are not a communist state and there is certainly no need to share your music with everyone. In addition, these groups of youths, in my opinion, cannot even be labelled deviant for the simple reason that their choice of music is utterly disappointing and downright childish.
The next group stretches age limits and defies categorizing, thus I have been forced to call them the working class. These people come in all shapes and forms, all ages and different gender. Or at least, they subscribe to different personal gender assumptions. And most certainly, they come in all sorts of smells. Their attire need not necessarily correspond to their attitude. Some examples include the well-dressed working man, decked in expensive shirts, tie, pants and shoes, who for some strange reason, believe their bags need to lie on the floor, often between their legs. While there is no proof that it hints of any sexual preference, their posture certainly says what they think of their own state of health because many of these firmly believe their backs require a rest after a hard day's work and leans exclusively on the poles which most normal people perceive to be an elusive, often under-utilized handheld support for themselves. There is also the female version who is all dressed prim and office, with expensive bags and shoes but open their suspiciously smelly mouths and motor off loudly like aunties in a wet market about the office and how they have been treated so unfairly at work, or how poor the dress sense of some of their dear fellow colleagues is, and question excessively in exasperation how they cannot comprehend why people would want to badmouth them behind their backs.
On the other extreme, there are the less-privileged groups, such as the classic pregnant woman. In singaporean context and culture, it is conventional to quickly close your eyes or open up the newspapers to put the pregnant woman out of view. Often, these pregnant women deserve to be commended because they can usually defy inertia efficiently and stand properly on the public transport. Fortunately, she usually has her hands free also, and this helps her to have free hands to rub her tummy or clutch at somebody's hair should she lose balance. Once again, this can only happen with credit given to the previous example of the working man and his tired companion the bag who occupies precious standing space and handheld support.
The next group is the germs, which is not short for the germans but the average sick singaporean who coughs and sneezes at an admirable fast pace. Once again, their political inclination is difficult to tell as they seem to be of the opinion that while they cannot share their seats and standing space, they will however share with you their germs and bad breath by spraying it ala aerosal cans into the atmosphere.
Statistics have shown that Singapore is more or less a conservative nation where promiscuous sex is not as high as some other countries. However, I contend that these numbers are not accurate as these surveys are usually done on club crowds and hotblooded teenagers. The highest number of people who sleep around is on the public transport. However, in objectivity, the author would like to point out that these people who sleep around usually do it alone. They are average Singaporeans who are simply overworked and once seated can convincingly drift off to sleep, or in most cases, slip into total unconsciousness, which translates into nodding their greasy heads into fellow passengers, and once again, mysteriously communistic as they tend to want to share their salivation with those around.
In conclusion, I hope to be granted maximum research funds to allow for a more thorough examination into these groups and the dynamics of juxtaposing them all on the public transport. As requested by the author, research funds need not come in monetary forms such as MRT and bus concession cards, but also in the forms of food and tidbits as these can help sustain the life of the author while he endures on his painstaking and hopefully, soon to end endeavour of travelling on public transport. In retrospect, it is no wonder why the MRT speaker system never fails to thank you for travelling with them, after having to put with all these distractions.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Uncovering the recovered discovery of the covered letter from Flips to Santa
Dear Mr Claus,
Firstly, I would like to congratulate your strong presence and iconic status prevalent for christmas all these years. I think it is greatly admirable of you to step out of the comforts of a warm home into the cold and deliver presents to the children. Take it from me, I know what it must feel like to be in the brrr-ing cold.
However, a matter rather ironic has come to my attention, which I thought you should be alerted to: the fact that even though you and the mighty elves (not the LOTR types I hope) churn out toys and presents to kids, manufacturers are churning out toys in your image and selling them off as presents. From a moral point of view, I personally feel that that it is infuriating and does not do you justice, even if they do somehow pay you some sort of royalty. I greatly feel for you that you seem to have been taken advantage of. Again, you can take it from me that I personally empathize ever since the showing of "Happy Feet". I mean, the penguins inside do not even look half as good as me. Perhaps, in my recent busy endeavour, I had not been noticed as much and producers have sadly missed out on a great model for their depiction of majestic penguins.
That also brings us back to the main issue that I am writing to you on. I know that the elves and you must be busy preparing right now as we speak, so this proposal might seem difficult to implement. I sincerely present to you: Pooh, my faithful sidekick. My recent marketing proposals and attempts to work with some manufacturers have humbly gathered some income for my war effort, I mean my ideals in life. However, I feel that my sidekick is too cute and bubbly to not show the entire world. Therefore, my proposal is that, instead of making outdated tin soldiers and dolls, you guys can perhaps start making toys and usable items with Pooh's image. Already, as we speak, there are many pirated weird productions from a country which deems itself to be the centre of the world (in more aspects than one). There are mugs, cushions and even pens etc. With our combined efforts, we could help make the world a brighter and more cheerful place by letting our dear children have something stamped with Pooh's image.
To this point, I totally understand if you think I am just another businessman making you a business proposal for profits. No, it is not my intention to make a profit. I only feel that children might feel happier to have something with Pooh on it, as he sometimes tries to cheer me up when I'm down and he is, statistically, qualitatively proven, to be rather dpendable for being there, even though he's not always useful.
Do consider my suggestion, and google online for a reference on how Pooh looks like. Help make this christmas a chirpy poohie one! Remember, you do not have to pay me royalties for using Pooh's image at all. However, you could drop me a little thank you gift this christmas at my zoo enclosure, but I do not have a chimney. I would appreciate a non-pooh item however as I already have my own. If you do a google on my past wishlist, you would also see that the color scheme miight be rather clashing to print Pooh on warheads and missiles. Besides, you would have to ring me in advance before dropping my gift down the chimney, as they do not quite land with a soft thud and cleaning up might prove a tad tedious, and that would sadly deprive me of the christmas surprise element.
p.s.: do not tell Pooh about it, as he thinks I'm trying to make a quick buck out of him which I actually am not but am too embarrassed to tell him.
p.s. 2: to end on a lighthearted note, what kind of bread do elves make? Shortbread. This is meant as light humour and in no way intended to be cruel to certain familiar favourite shorties...
From:
Flips the Great
Magnificent, Resplendent, Cool Blue, and bulk purchaser of hair gel
(Office temporarily moved from the Kremlin to the zoo)
Firstly, I would like to congratulate your strong presence and iconic status prevalent for christmas all these years. I think it is greatly admirable of you to step out of the comforts of a warm home into the cold and deliver presents to the children. Take it from me, I know what it must feel like to be in the brrr-ing cold.
However, a matter rather ironic has come to my attention, which I thought you should be alerted to: the fact that even though you and the mighty elves (not the LOTR types I hope) churn out toys and presents to kids, manufacturers are churning out toys in your image and selling them off as presents. From a moral point of view, I personally feel that that it is infuriating and does not do you justice, even if they do somehow pay you some sort of royalty. I greatly feel for you that you seem to have been taken advantage of. Again, you can take it from me that I personally empathize ever since the showing of "Happy Feet". I mean, the penguins inside do not even look half as good as me. Perhaps, in my recent busy endeavour, I had not been noticed as much and producers have sadly missed out on a great model for their depiction of majestic penguins.
That also brings us back to the main issue that I am writing to you on. I know that the elves and you must be busy preparing right now as we speak, so this proposal might seem difficult to implement. I sincerely present to you: Pooh, my faithful sidekick. My recent marketing proposals and attempts to work with some manufacturers have humbly gathered some income for my war effort, I mean my ideals in life. However, I feel that my sidekick is too cute and bubbly to not show the entire world. Therefore, my proposal is that, instead of making outdated tin soldiers and dolls, you guys can perhaps start making toys and usable items with Pooh's image. Already, as we speak, there are many pirated weird productions from a country which deems itself to be the centre of the world (in more aspects than one). There are mugs, cushions and even pens etc. With our combined efforts, we could help make the world a brighter and more cheerful place by letting our dear children have something stamped with Pooh's image.
To this point, I totally understand if you think I am just another businessman making you a business proposal for profits. No, it is not my intention to make a profit. I only feel that children might feel happier to have something with Pooh on it, as he sometimes tries to cheer me up when I'm down and he is, statistically, qualitatively proven, to be rather dpendable for being there, even though he's not always useful.
Do consider my suggestion, and google online for a reference on how Pooh looks like. Help make this christmas a chirpy poohie one! Remember, you do not have to pay me royalties for using Pooh's image at all. However, you could drop me a little thank you gift this christmas at my zoo enclosure, but I do not have a chimney. I would appreciate a non-pooh item however as I already have my own. If you do a google on my past wishlist, you would also see that the color scheme miight be rather clashing to print Pooh on warheads and missiles. Besides, you would have to ring me in advance before dropping my gift down the chimney, as they do not quite land with a soft thud and cleaning up might prove a tad tedious, and that would sadly deprive me of the christmas surprise element.
p.s.: do not tell Pooh about it, as he thinks I'm trying to make a quick buck out of him which I actually am not but am too embarrassed to tell him.
p.s. 2: to end on a lighthearted note, what kind of bread do elves make? Shortbread. This is meant as light humour and in no way intended to be cruel to certain familiar favourite shorties...
From:
Flips the Great
Magnificent, Resplendent, Cool Blue, and bulk purchaser of hair gel
(Office temporarily moved from the Kremlin to the zoo)
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