Banana and peanut lady in Central

I wanted to blog about this old lady in Central over a YEAR ago when I first started working in that area, and thankfully, she is still around for me to blog about today. No offense to her at all but she is probably near 100 years old if not older, and I really hope that she has a lot more years to live!

Located on the corner of Gage Street and Lyndhurst Terrace, the Banana and Peanut Lady is a withering old Chinese woman with sunken-in cheeks and a thin black ponytail. She sells bananas and peanuts next to the fruit stand across 7-11 and is usually there for most of the day. I don't know why she's still working as she's so fragile and petite, but my guess is that she's been there all her life and likes it(?) or has to do it to sustain herself (in which case we should all give her a little extra for her bananas and peanuts).

She's usually wearing a traditional two-piece Chinese outfit in all black, and now that the weather's cooler she has an extra coat on. I also noticed that her thumbnails are super long, as opposed to her pinky fingernails. Maybe I'll work up the courage to ask her what she's doing there the next time I pass by... (I know, I'm shy)!

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Cockroach CSI: Death by Tobacco

No matter what time of year it is in Hong Kong, you're likely to see one of the city's most infamous tenants crawling around: the cockroach. In the summer, they are out in full force, scurrying along sidewalks, climbing up the walls, and sometimes (if you're unlucky) flying right into your line of sight.

Now that it's winter though, cockroach sightings are much more rare, but that doesn't mean they're gone. In fact, most of the times I see cockroaches these days is when they're dead. Squished, flattened, stomped on, or worse, have you ever wondered what actually happened right before the cockroach was killed?

Introducing ... Cockroach CSI: an investigation into the lives (and death) of our city's rampant roaches. First up is a cockroach I saw in Wanchai last year, an image that I will never forget as it was such a vivid one.

I was on Jaffe Road right across Joe Bananas when I looked down before crossing the street. And, there, right next to my foot was a dead cockroach on its back, clutching onto a cigarette butt. I kid you not, his six legs were literally wrapped around the cigarette butt!

It's clear how this cockroach died: death by tobacco. After a long night of partying with the call girls in Wanchai, this roach thought of winding down with a still-lit cigarette butt that landed just a few inches from him. After taking one long puff, he choked to death on all the nicotine, smoke and tar that filled his little lungs. So, the lesson here is, hanging out in Wanchai will kill ya!

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Have fingers, will make FIMO

Dance when you still have legs, eat crab whilst you still have teeth ... make FIMO while you still have fingers! Yes, these are the types of thoughts that swirl around in my head at 2am in the morning, especially when my palm continues to throb after today's traumatic experience at work.

You see, after one year on the job, I've learned to be quite careful when it comes to opening press releases in the mail. Since I don't have a letter opener, I usually rip the envelope open with my thumb, take the folder out and flip through carefully to not get cut by the crisp sheets of paper.

Today was no different, and I thought I'd done a pretty good job being all delicate with the papers. That is, until I decided to re-seal the envelope before throwing it into my makeshift recycling bin. As I slid my fingers across the top of the envelope, my palm was sliced open by a protruding staple, which nearly severed my thumb off and left a big, 2-inch bleeding gash.

After staring at it and screaming silently for a few minutes (we work in a quiet office), the pain set in and the not-so-silent whining began (which, as you can tell by this post, has yet to end). In any case, I'm very thankful to still have my thumb attached, and while it's still here, I have decided to reactivate my Etsy page and resurrect my hobby of crafting tiny things out of FIMO.

Billy the Bolobao, Jacky the Jaa Leung and Harry the Har Gow

If you've never heard of FIMO, it's this awesome coloured clay from Germany that you can shape things into and bake in the oven to set permanently. For those who DO know what it is, I realize I'm not eight anymore but hey, didn't anyone tell you the '90s are back? And I'm bringing FIMO back with it! Keep an eye out for new additions to my Etsy store once my thumb is healed, oh and feel free to place an order if you see anything you like! :)

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The funniest Donnie Yen video ever

In honour of my latest sighting of Donnie Yen last Friday in Central (wearing a puffy neon orange jacket and gold rimmed sunglasses), I just had to dig up this video of him on YouTube for anyone who's never seen our beloved "Ip Man" as a b-boy back in the '80s!

I'd also just like to make clear that I am not at all sexually attracted to Donnie Yen (like my cousin and sister are...) The latter of whom has just made it my mission to track down Mr. Yen and serve him to her on a silver platter for her enjoyment... eww!!!!!!! Watch out Donnie -- if an older version of Miss Fong jumps you on the street, it wasn't me!

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Gentlemen, start your cameras...

Despite NOT being a speed freak, I found myself peeling my eyelids apart at 6am this morning to catch the puke-mobile over to Macau for the Grand Prix today, and I think I finally understand what all the fuss is about.

Besides the actual races, drivers, crews, booze and the "it's-so-loud-I-can-feel-my-stomach-jiggling" roar off the tracks, let's face it -- it's all about the hoochie mamas!

Check out this crowd of pervographers surrounding these leggy ladies:

You can clearly see that some photographers are already falling in love...

And, you can practically hear the jolly laughter coming out of this chubster as he sandwiches himself between these two leng-mos:

(Note the built-in thong design of her skirt -- such a considerate design for anyone seeking a skanky look that doesn't compromise on comfort!)

So, although the 58th Macau Grand Prix has wrapped up for this year, I'm sure these men will have plenty of material to stroke their telephoto lenses at until the next race rolls around.

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Venture Studios in Hong Kong: Where a picture is (not) worth a thousand bucks

I recently saw Venture Studios on a Groupon Hong Kong deal and as a (fellow?) Groupon addict, I must warn anyone who's thinking of buying it to STOP RIGHT THERE! The deal is HK$999 for a 1-hour photography session and a 1-hour design consultation, plus your favourite image framed in an 8x10" size.

Although this offer might sound pretty sweet, you can actually get the exact same deal for HK$500 on any regular day, plus a few more freebies (read: cash vouchers) thrown in whenever there's a special occasion like Christmas, Chinese New Year, Mother's Day or Father's Day, etc.

I tried Venture earlier this year and I must say first and foremost that they are actually pretty damn awesome at what they do. Take a look at their portraits and you'll see that they're really good at capturing people's unique personalities in a really natural way.

For our photo session, we were told to bring a bunch of objects that represented us, so for me, that was a box of chocolate chip cookies, orange Queen's Day hats from Holland, our cats Dusky & Cheese Puff, while C brought some books and a cigar... In that hour, we had a blast as the photographer got down in all sorts of positions to snap away as we tickled each other, fought for cookies and basically just goofed around.

I thought it'd be easy to pick just one picture to be printed out on the 8x10" frame, but when it came time to come back to view the pictures (aka. the "design consultation"), the Venture guys knew exactly how to wrangle our weak spot.

First, they seat you in their little private theatre where they've prepared a moving slideshow of your touched up images. The light dims, music starts, and the pictures start to roll... Of course, after 10-15 minutes of seeing yourselves in all your Photoshopped glory, which ends with the tagline, "The most important story ever told...yours", you'll definitely want to have more than just ONE measly 8x10" print-out. But here's the thing:

• Suddenly, every item you want printed is costing in the HK$1,000's
• Many of the images are best sold in sets, as that's how the photographer got you to pose in 'em (cookie-themed photos, orange themed photos, etc), which means more $$$
• They tell you you can't hang your free 8x10" frame on the wall, and all the pictures are sealed in the Venture frames so you can't even reuse the frame in the future
• Even if you just want the digital copy of your photos, you'll only get a maximum of 20 pics for about HK$15,000, which are locked at a low resolution and cannot be printed out, and only viewable as desktop screen savers
• Oh -- and you have to decide on your purchase within your 1-hour consultation otherwise your pictures will be deleted the next day and the discounted promotional offers are no longer valid

Talk about intense pressure! All the while, the sales person is going, "Aren't your memories worth it?" while you're thinking, maybe, but then again, we could go out and buy a pretty decent camera and rent a studio for less money than what you're asking for...or just find another photographer :P

In the end, we caved and did end up buying more photos, starting out with the original (insane) plan to buy a set of three mounted wall images for about HK$15,000 but eventually "coming to our senses" and buying just three more 8x10" images for a total of HK$5,200.

Stupid, huh? Especially when those photos are still lying in their boxes by our front door. So is Venture worth it? YES if you are really strong and will only take your free 8x10" pic, NO if you are any bit emotional about memories and willing to pay big money for them. Don't say you weren't warned!

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Say NO to Butt Munching Pants

I'm no fashionista, but I think I have a pretty good sense of what looks bad on me, and therefore, on other people. And what usually looks bad horrific are BUTT MUNCHING PANTS.

I encountered an extremely active butt munching pant the other day as I was walking behind this woman in the MTR, and I just couldn't stop myself from staring at her butt. Granted, I'm usually staring at people's butts (hey, it started in high school) not out of perviness but just because it's the most interesting and dynamic part of a person's backside (it's big, it moves, it usually has a face, etc.), wouldn't you agree?

So this particular woman's butt was wearing a pair of what were once baggy, bright blue short shorts -- culottes, really, but I doubt anyone really uses that word anymore -- and the butt had eaten up most of the excess fabric, chewing it rigorously with each step the woman took. It was really as if it had its own face, mind and identity, and as I stared at it, it stared back at me, munching quicker and quicker whilst jiggling its cheeks.

When I finally snapped out of my trance and managed to look away, I promised myself to never, ever wear butt munching pants. EVER! And so should you.

FYI: Butt munching pants occur when someone's pants are so far up their ass that it appears that their butt is actually munching on them. Things that can cause this to happen include tight ass pants, extremely thin, silky pants, or sometimes just a big ass booty that hasn't been fed in a while! (from UrbanDictionary.com) 

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Beggar on a buggy

The other day, I was walking along the bridge to Central Pier when I came across a Hong Kong beggar lying face down near the entrance to IFC on the Apple Store side. He seemed "normal" enough: missing both legs, dressed in dark clothing, with disheveled short black hair. As usual, no one took notice, and since I was in a rush to get to The Watermark, I sped walked my way past too.

On my way back though about an hour later, I found myself walking behind a guy in a mini-buggy, which was essentially a motorized red tin box on three wheels, and guess who was driving? The same legless beggar as before!!

Usually, I try not to stare long or do double takes with beggars since it might make them self conscious, but I couldn't help it when I walked past this beggar on a buggy. Not only was he in possession of a pretty awesome ride, he was also checking text messages on his phone, which despite being a Nokia had a pretty pimpin' gold keypad.

I walked next to his buggy for a while to see if I could read his text messages (I couldn't), and to verify if it was in fact the same guy, which I'm pretty sure of since he was missing legs at the same spot as the other guy.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad for him anymore. Could it be, that he is perfectly okay with the way he is? Texting his wife to tell her he'll be home tonight earlier than usual? Or is he plotting with his pimp where he'll lie face down to pull at our heart strings next? And ... where does he usually hide his buggy? Oh mysteries...

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No need for speed

Last week, I found myself sitting in a boxy race car simulator at Sideways in Hong Kong with a pair of big headphones over my ears and someone else's black socks on my feet. "Vroom-vroom" was all I could hear as I sped through the circuit, mixed in with the sound of tires screeching as I skidded around, followed by extremely jerky left-right-left-right swerving of the wheel each time I tried to get back on track. When the screen finally told me I could stop, or more accurately, that I had lost, I breathed a big sigh of relief that it was over.

"Great job, guys," said the venue owner as I took off my headphones. "Now, are you ready for the REAL race?" 

"What...?!" I asked. "I thought we just did that!"

"Haha, that was just the warm up!"

Arrrghhh..... -____-" So, off we went again, this time "for reals" and of course, I ended up with a slower and worse time than ever before. This time, my eyes were straining out of my sockets as I tried to stay on course, gripping the wheel with white knuckles and tensing up my thighs and calves as I stepped on the pedal clumsily. It felt like an eternity that the race went on, and by the time I hit my fifth wall, I pretty much gave up. Finally, someone crossed the finish line and put me out of my misery.

Walking out of this experience, I thought, "How could that possibly be fun?" To me, the racing simulation made me more stressed, agitated and annoyed rather than thrilled and entertained. I could only imagine how it'd be in real life if I had to drive a race car -- yep, I'd crash and burn in under five seconds.

Now if only they had a few simulators at the venue that catered to people like me, where I could choose my favourite car to drive in -- the pink Toyota Echo circa 2000, of course -- and get points for driving within the speed limit, stopping for seniors and/or a family of ducks crossing the road, slowing down at school zones, performing a perfect parallel park and maybe even score a few extra points for pimping up my car with cute seatbelt covers and a few gerberas on the dash. Yep, that would SO be my kinda game. Now where are you developers at?!

I <3 this pink Toyota Echo!

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Crankie cabbie

Today, I managed to piss off a Hong Kong cabbie quite royally, and it all started when I got into his cab at Hollywood Road and told him to drive me to 'Central Plaza'.

"Cen-tral Pla-zaa," I said to him in my best Honger accent.

He stared at me through the rear-view mirror with an annoyed expression in his eye and eyebrow (that's all I could see of him).

"Um... Zhong-Wan Pla-zaa?" I tried again.

"What are you saying?" he said in Cantonese, obviously annoyed.

"You know, Zhong-Wan Dai-Ha in Wanchai?" (where 'dai-ha' meant 'building', or so I thought)

"You mean Zhong-Wan Gong-Cheung!" he gruffed back. "Pla-zaa! Get your buildings straight, you don't know what you're talking about!"

"Uhh...I'm not from around here," I said. "What's 'dai-ha' then?"

"Dai-ha is HOUSE, gong-cheung is PLAZA!" he nearly shouted at me.

"Okay, okay, now I know," I muttered back, thinking 'Same-diff, yeesh!'.

Five minutes later, as I ruffled through my bag, I came to a sudden heart-dropping realization that I had forgotten my wallet at the office, and was therefore riding in his cab without a single cent of money (OH SH!T.) Annnnd, of course, my phone was at 5% battery and ready to die.

I decided to play it cool and not let the cabbie know, while in my head I started wondering what I could give him in exchange for the ride over (nothing sexual -___-). Inside my bag was a nasty old orange umbrella, an eel-skin business cardholder, and a red and white Canada lanyard I'd bought in a dollar store back home (so, basically nothing). 

I couldn't even ask him to go to an ATM since I didn't have my debit or Octopus card on me. In the end, I made a desperate call to the people organizing the event at Cen-tral Pla-zaa and managed to explain my situation, and they agreed to come down to the taxi stand and pay my cab fare (phew).

Of course, when I finally told the cabbie the news as he was pulling up to Cen-tral Pla-zaa, he was anything but happy.

"What?! You know I can't stop here," he complained. "Once someone comes I'm going to have to move!" 

"I know, sorry," I said, and then sat silently waiting for my rescue. 

He continued, "What is this, some kind of joke? I've never had this happen to me before, geezus..." 

We sat in silence again as the meter beeped every few minutes.

"Oh great, now there's someone behind me. See, now I have to move my car!" he whined.

A few minutes later, he added, "I can't believe this is happening. I'm about to get off work and you pull this kind of shit on me--" and that was when I had just about enough.

"What, you think I wanted this?!" I yelled at him. "You think I forgot my wallet on purpose!?"

That shut him up for a few awkward minutes before he got heckled again by the building staff to clear the area. As they bantered back and forth about whether anyone was coming at all, the receiver of my collect-cab finally arrived, paid my cab fare and released me from my cabbie hostage situation. 

FREEDOM NEVER FELT SO GOOD!! 

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