Forbidden love

Jupiter the lion plants a wet one on his nurseHaha.

Here’s the real story. Colombian Ana Julia Torres rescued this lion from a circus and nursed him back to health at her animal shelter.

I find those who mistreat animals quite baffling. I can’t imagine what psychopathy motivates someone to inflict pain and suffering on another creature, and to gain pleasure from it!

And that’s why I wish I’d realised my interest in psychopathy early in life and studied psychology instead. I could’ve been a therapist. Although I’d probably be the least sympathetic therapist in the world.

I do think this woman is an angel, although I’d never let a lions maw near any part of my face or body or extremities. You get the idea.

Scottish slang of the day — MIND

I only heard this word being used when I was in Scotland with Neil and he was talking to his mum. I’d never, ever heard him use it before. Bur I have heard him use it plenty of times since.

“Mind when we went to eat fish and chips and the shop exploded from blocked grease,” is the sort of statement you would hear in context with the word ‘mind’. As you can tell, ‘mind’ means ‘remember’ in Scotland.

Are there too many syllables in ‘remember’ that get in the way of eating more chips and curry sauce? Can they not remember the word ‘remember’?

I don’t have a problem with it, but I can’t work out how ‘remember’ got replaced with ‘mind’. Unless I’m losing my remember.

Cows are bad for tea

It’s just possible that adding milk to your tea could eliminate the health benefits of drinking said tea. Neil thought it was the fat in the milk (the news report on BBC didn’t go into detail), but the piece in the Herald says its the casein — and from what I gather, my drinking milk or eating yoghurt for its calcium (in excess, of course) could be bad for me.

This weekend I…

  • watched Night at the Museum (loved it loved it, it’s so silly)
  • computered for most of the day
  • had home cooked beef noodles for dinner at my cousin’s house (it was my aunt’s birthday, and she’d even brought chinchalok chilli all the way from Singapore!)
  • came home (with Chinese takeaway — what can I say, I’m a pig) and watched Family Guy’s Christmas DVD, then The Sixth Sense
  • had a bowl of potato and leek soup (excellent)
  • did a mini shop while Neil climbed on top of another shed to secure the roof felt (how manly of him)
  • had chicken casserole for dinner
  • finished making my personalised keychain for the Green Creature (name still undecided)
  • watched Eddie Izzard’s Dress to Kill

Gay cars

South African website Wheels24 has announced that a poll says the Peugeot 207 is the gayest car, and the Audi RS24 is the straightest.

Signs I’m getting old

Ah, school uniforms. An academic in Edinburgh thinks school uniforms remind people of the Nazi youth. I remember the days when I (indeed, all students in Singapore) wore a school uniform and hated it. We were so taken by images of American students who could wear whatever they wanted. Mind you, I was in a rather strict school, where jewellery, even the simplest kinds, were not allowed, and if you had long hair, you could only use black or dark blue hair elastics. If you wore your hair short, there couldn’t be any evidence of having used a clipper (how they could tell I’ll never know, I got away with an undercut with designs razored into my scalp for a year — what a rebel).

me in my school uniform, age 7

And now that I’ve reached the wizened old age of 30 (almost 31!), I’ve got boring and am very much in favour of uniforms (although I’d definitely allow simple jewellery, but no precious stones) in school. I was very lucky that there weren’t glaring class issues in my school (it was considered an ‘elite’ school, but I don’t think I really bothered too much about who had or didn’t have, it was all about grades, grades, grades), but I can imagine the pressure kids are under to wear and/or own the ‘right’ things.

Uniforms level the playing field, so to speak. That’s not exactly rocket science. Parents don’t get hassled by their kids to buy them the trendiest clothes more often than they already do. Cliques in school aren’t exacerbated by how well or expensively you dress. There’s already enough peer pressure, and since kids are in school to get a decent education, the focus of pressure should be on educational achievement (by that I mean in extra-curricular activities as well) and not on what brand of clothing you wear.

Foodie Friday — Potato Pancakes

potato pancakes

I love potatoes. Mashed, fried, boiled, roasted, thinly sliced and fried into crisps… this very lousy GI starch is pretty much my favourite carbohydrate of them all. And these crispy potato pancakes look absolutely heavenly.

Aside: on Saturday Kitchen, a ‘celebrity’ tells us their food ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’, and we’re supposed to phone in and vote for one, and James Martin will cook the viewer’s choice. I reckon if I ever became ‘worthy’ of the term ‘celebrity’ and appeared on the show, no one would cook my food hell (usually durian), because no one could stand to be in the same room as that bloody fruit.

I highly doubt I’d be able to follow the instructions on this recipe, but I’ll have you know that I made up my own that is kinda-sorta similar back in 2003, when I first moved to Xiamen and had absolutely bugger all to do. Here it is:

2 small to medium potatoes, thinly sliced or shredded (I used the slicey thing on the shredder)
1 rasher bacon, sliced into small pieces
1 or 2 tbsp Italian dressing

Heat a frying pan. Start frying the bacon pieces, then add the potato and mix the bacon around in it, making sure it’s evenly distributed. Add the Italian dressing and mix it in. Check on it and mix it around until the potato is cooked — slightly crisp is best.


I’ve never made it for anyone else, but I ate it and didn’t get sick, so it can’t be too bad.

There are motion-detecting paper towel dispensers?

This is why Scott Adams is a genius:

I’m anxiously awaiting the next innovation in restroom automation. I assume developers are already working on the last mile: A robotic arm to unzip my pants, grab my unit, then do the holding, shaking, and repackaging. I’m too busy to do that stuff for myself. Plus I was already spoiled by the time they automated the paper towel dispenser.

The Autopee device (it needs a name) would be problematic because every guy is built different. Somehow it would need to know the dimensions of what’s behind your zipper so it didn’t accidentally neuter you. I suppose the best way to do that is to have some sort of voice recognition software that asks you what kind of car you drive. If it’s a Porsche, for example, you might be compensating. If it’s a Honda minivan, you’re probably sporting an anaconda.

You’d also have to tell the Autopee how much shaking you want, ranging anywhere from two quick flicks to a happy ending.

Good luck getting that image out of your head.

The man can draw AND write. How unfair. And by the way, he didn’t mention an Autopee equivalent for the women, unless he reckons women are less lazy than men. Or because he’s a man, and didn’t even THINK of the women. Misogynist.