Meanwhile, Back In The Office

The soft ping of notify.wav rouses E@L from dreams of mordant retribution for all the times he'd been out-remembered by someone in a conversational test of obscure trivia, or fuddled up some lame-arse joke, or got the names wrong in an important personal introduction ("Mum, this is my new girlfriend Rachel… err, I mean Suzanna. Rachel, of course, was my ex-girlfriend, whom I am totally over now, TOTALLY!, hardly even remember what she looked like, whether she had bite-mark tattoo on the soft warmth of her inner thigh or not, SO TOTALLY OH-VAH THAT BEATCH!...") , or got the Left and Right mixed up on a X-ray with severe surgical consequence for some soon-to-be-ex-sporting hero…

Oh, for a life without the small stabs of such deeply entrenched but ultimately minor regrets… The Devil's in the details, in one's quiet moments, yeah?

Ping. Email. Wah?

E@L squints out the window - blue sky, green water, the good ship "Leisure World" in dock, excavations continuing on Sentosa as tugs push a barge of former earth to regions unsighted in the Straits of Malacca… He clunks his neck into a less un-comfortable position and mops up his drool with a shirt-cuff.

Something from the boss in the Outlook "In-tray".

And, hey, a real envelope - also from the boss - in the real in-tray! Who put that there? Not the boss, surely - E@L looks sheepish, was he caught napping? - no, the boss is in India.

Wow, so much communication in one day! This requires a cup of cappuccino mix to comprehend...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rip, pour, gurgle, stir, wait for chemical froth to accumulate, drizzle with chocolate…

Later. Sip. Sluurp. Ah! Lovely.

Now, wasn't there something about mail?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

E@L opens the email.

It is a link to a Wiki on the Sony Timer - the mythical "clock" that causes Sony's gadgets to implode in the time period immediately post the expiration of the warranty. It's a major technological achievement of Sony and other companies to do this - it makes every gadget in the world a consumable, rather than a capital outlay. Different budget, OK! Explain it that way to the wifey, see how far it gets ya!

E@L's spoken about this a coupla times before. E@L probably was whingeing to the boss about some gadget disaster or other of his and had spoken of Sony Time to him.

OK, nothing too demanding there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

E@L opens the large envelope. And the winner is… E@L !

It is his pay notification. He sees the sum - exceptional! He checks the housing allowance - an increment has come through to cover the recent rental hike! E@L throws his metaphorical cap in the air and cries out silently, "Yee ha!"

He won’t be moving to Pungol or Changi after all… Excellent!

E@L blinks out the window. It has clouded over, threatening some rain. The "Leisure World" has departed (or sunk, he wasn't watching) as if to escape the coming storm. It is almost afternoon already. Time to take what's left of the day off to celebrate! (He worked Sat morning and most of Sunday and is due at least a day in lieu.)

E@L packs up his bag, puts his bag down, pulls out the book he is reading (Rose Tremain's Music and Silence) his iPod, and leaves the bag there - too heavy, and fuck it the rain is pouring now, he doesn't want it wet - and he heads off... maybe some golf at the driving range with Izzy if the rain clears or misses Bukit-Timah.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally: A commentator on the Olympic diving points requirement of one of the girls last night:


"She really needs a 69."


Stunned silence in E@LGHQ , until ---

"That about sums it up for me," says E@L ...

Much hilarity ensues, but sadly, no soixante-neuf...

E@L

[Addendum; the real reason E@L left the office early is that he had forgotten to take his medicine and his feet were killing him - he went home, took more painkillers and had a nap. Seriously, a bad foot day.]

The Tent - HK Rugby Sevens - 9th State Playing

Be in the mosh-pit with E@L and friends! Rock your socks off peeples!

The Tent is the place to be after the Sevens, knocking back jugs of rum and coke, groovin' to the movin' and tripping out to the freaky lights! How old am I? 17 or 51, I forget. At the sevens I tend to forget most things, like where I am staying, who I am, that alcohol causes hangovers, that I am 51 not 17...


2008, Hong Kong, Rugby 7s, 9th State playing....

~~~~~~~~~

p.s. sorry it's not an AckedDacker song, but happy big four-oh to Rev The Creepster

E@L

eBanking = eNfuriating

I need to transfer some money to an account in Noosa Heads as my solicitor is running behind on the payments for his new Maserati... And he wants an email of confirmation when the deed is done, preferably in 7 days from... oops, this payment was due last week. Ne'ermind...

~~~~~~

Attempt 1: NAB (Australia)

OK, simple. As the invoice is asking for Aussie Dollars, I'll simply transfer it from the funds in my (still active, 10 years later) National Australia Bank eBanking account in Geelong. To get this straight: *I* am in Singapore but the bricks and mortar and presumably, the cash, are in Geelong...

Log-on with no problems - no 2FA security token requirements here. Just token security requirements, ha ha! Ha... Hey! Reminder to self: don't put much money in any NAB account, internet "security" is absolutely ratshit.

Transfer??? Nope. NAB only allow transfers to linked accounts and to registered BPay vendors (like GIRO or something here in Singapore). My lawyer isn't a BPay vendor, he's a wannabe Maserati driver.

How useless is this NAB internet banking? Very, is my contemplated answer. If only they had some decent programmer working for them... (little jibe at the No1 son, who is very aware of his employer's imitations. [Oops, Freudian slip there - Limitations!]) So, I log out and scratch my head. Think of another account with AUD in it, E@L ...

NAB: FAIL.

~~~~~~

Attempt 2: OCBC Singapore

I have an AUD account here so this should be easy, right? Wrong.

One good thing (there had to be one) is that they have a nice "Notify The Recipient" function at OCBC which automatically sends everybody an email when the transaction is done. I like that, saves me hunting up excuses when the rent is overdue, etc... Which reminds me... I set up a replacement of my recurring transaction with the new rent - a 57% increase! Oops, the new rent is OVER my daily transaction limit! Changing transactions limits? Not a problem here online at the OCBC, although the maximum is a measly SGD $10k per day. I set the limit (to the maximum as my rent is now above the second highest setting, to give you a hint) and enter the 2FA token code for a verification. Away I go, no problemo, that was easy, lets finish this!

Then I go to the Funds Transfer page, but I forgot about one small fact. Sigh. They won't let you do foreign currency transactions on-line. ANY foreign currency transactions. You need to go physically, like meat-space-wise, into the bank, like bricks-and-mortar-wise, with your ID, fill in a form, sign it, and let THEM do the TT, get it stamped by the supervisor, etc... 2FA tokens don't do let you do that here at OCBC. I am at home, not in the office where there is an OCBC branch downstairs, so, cannot!

I log out and scratch my arse.

OCBC: FAIL.

~~~~~~~~

Attempt 3: HSBC (HK)

I have *heaps* of AUD in my account in HK as I closed down some Euro managed funds that looked like they were being mismanaged by the "Room Full of Monkeys" Dept of Go4Broke Investments, and got them over in case I need some ready for the deposit or fees on the condos in Noosa or Townsville. (Let it be known that this, my life savings [i.e. last five years] is only a fraction of the money I need to actually PAY for these condos. Come September next year I'll have to talk really nicely to the banks in Singapore...) Why did I put those funds into the HSBC(HK) AUD account which only pays 2.5% on a savings account and not the OCBC AUD account which pays 5% you ask? Because I am an idiot.

I login to HSBC (HK) on the third attempt, after getting all my other passwords mixed up in my head. I thought at first that I might have been transcribing the 2FA token's code incorrectly, or even using the wrong 2FA token - I have three of course; OCBC, HSBC (HK), HSBC (Sing) - but no, I was just reading the Excel file with all my passwords incorrectly. Aside: of course the iMac does not have a nice easy automatic password program like the one (name escapes me) I use on my XP desktop (it doesn't run on my Vista laptop, either.)

Phew, any way I am on. OK, I go to the International Transfer page, enter all the bank details, the currency and amount, the message to the recipient so he knows the money is coming from me, etc... and I press SUBMIT.

Nope. My transfer limit is currently set to HK$0! WTF! Zero? Sigh. There is a PDF form I have to download, print out, sign and *snail mail* to Hong Kong if I want to up my transfer limit! I thought this was going to be the easy one! Damn!

I log out and scratch the maid's arse accidentally as she vacuums around my desk.

(Upping the transfer limit is something I have to do urgently anyway, as I need to get my funds to Singapore in order to take advantage of the higher rates, yeah?)

HSBC (HK): FAIL

~~~~~~~~

Attempt 4: HSBC (Sing)

The problem here is that I don't have an AUD account, which means I am going to suffer rectally by way of an exchange-rate raping. This is why I've left it as my last option. Damn. Sigh. Well, ne'ermind, I'm just going to have to bend my knees up, breathe out slowly, and sing a jaunty Scottish air, I guess. "OOoooOOOOooooh, me name is MacNamara I'm the leader of the band"

It's a lucky coincidence that I can get on to HSBC (Sing) at all. The internet account had faded out of existence as I hadn't used it for a whole year. Then, last month when for some prescient reason unknown to me at the time, I thought I should reactivate it. Lucky hey? I login with the same old password, but with the new 2FA token and check my balance in SGD.

Shit, it's going to be very close, as I have just mailed out a cheque for my AMEX bill using this account. Maybe I should do a top-up?

I log-in again at the OCBC account and transfer a coupla grand SGD across, enough to cover the AUD transaction AND the Amex bill should they hit together the desk of the meek, bespectacled, accountant who sits out back of the HSBC, with his metal-elastic arm-bands holding up his shirt sleeves against the dangers of his cuffs getting caught in the bean-counting machine... Sigh.

I logout of OCBC again and log back into HSBC (Sing). I suppose I could try to open an AUD account there at HSBC (Sing) as well, but where would I transfer the funds from? No, leave that... I get onto the international transfer page, do the deed, and FINALLY the money (in SGD) gets sent (in AUD)... and after the rate-raping I have this feeling of defilement and shame...

Now to notify the solictor so he can get the wheel-clamps off his Maserati. As I said - where you listening? are you still reading? - in the OCBC this would be easy (if I could even DO an international funds transfer) however, in HSBC (Sing) there is no way of automatically emailing the transaction details to the recipient. Hey I realize, even *I* don't get emails, ANY emails, from this bank, they send notifications by snail-mail instead.

Time to change preferences.

I find the correct page and set-up for e-notices in the future. The future? Shit, I didn't get a copy of the transaction summary with all the details to copy across to GMail... I try to go back in the browser and find that summary, but the page is blocked now. I do manage to find an account summary page which has some of required information, and try and right-click copy the details... but the HSBC security doesn't allow right-clicks or indeed Command(Ctrl)-C shortcuts. Read it and weep, is their motto, obviously. So I transcribe the details manually, send the email myself.

And yes, I sigh.

I log off and mentally scratch the arse of my solicitor's damn fncking Maserati with a screwdriver for putting me through all this...

HSBC (Sing): PASS (with a push)

~~~~~~~~

Till next statement date,

E@L

p.s. DOMS is back - after 5 days of swimming 20-30 mins, I took 2 days off to drink beer, bourbon (to kill the taste of PepsiMax, yuck!) and wine with friends and flatmates. I went for a swim again this morning and had to stop after 15 mins due to arm pain and aches. Ow, wow, ow! My forearms especially are killing me, aching and stiff... Hangon, what's this tube sitting here conveniently? Voltaren Gel? Yes, orange tube, I love you!

Sarkozy + Bruni = Bush + ?

Commenting to Izzy on how unlikely it would be for a US President to divorce and then to live with a pop star, AND REMAIN IN OFFICE...!!!

Izzy: ... and she's Italian!

Me: Imagine if George Bush divorced Laura and went with someone like a country singer.

Izzy: She have to be Canadian.

Me: Whatserface on the boat, Celine Dion...

Izzy: Avril Lavigne!

~~ E@L GHQ cracking up with laughter ~~





Addendum: British PM Gordon Brown + Amy Whinehouse? (shudder!)


E@L

iNteresting iMac oBservation / OneNote Is Excellent

I still can't comment on my blog from my iMac...

Terrific.

But if I unplug the network cable from the iMac, plug it into the PC, turn everything on and off a few times, I CAN comment from the PC. Same modem, same cable, same freaking desk.

I'll have to go back to wifi with the iMac later. I changed it to the the cable-router last week because the wifi signal was dropping out last week. I need a stronger wireless router, one that will punch through this bedroom wall. It won't reach Izzy's bedroom either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~whatthefuck~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Question that I keep asking myself - why did I buy this thing? Ah yes, the kick arse monitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really would appreciate a Mac program like MS OneNote for drafting blogs, writing novels and short-stories, etc on the iMac. (I can POST in the iMac, I just can't comment.) OneNote is the mostest brilliantest program I've used for a while. If you cut and paste (or just drag!) from webpage, it takes the URL across as well so you can always tell where you got the text or picture or whatever from.

It allows you to give titles for all of your Notebooks, for your sections withing each notebook and for the individual pages in each section. For example, I have a BlogDrafts Notebook, which has sections for each country or major topic I whinge about a lot, and then there is a named page for each of the drafted entries. Everything is there for me to find, no hassle.

It has full Word spell-checking and formatting control, plus the drag/link funtionality and a freeform page layout. Just start typing anywhere...

The closest I've found is called CopyWrite, which I think is designed for scriptwriters. It has subsections (though you can't edit their titles) and a pull-out notes panel. Its main claim to fame is that is does a cool minimalistic limegreen text on a blank full-screen to emulate an old PC workstation for, like, serious typing people from the '70s... I haven't used it much, well not enough to really test it, though I know it doesn't accept a dragged photo from the web, as such, only putting in a text hotlink.

It's not a real research and freeform drafting tool, the way OneNote is.

I note with a sigh of disappointment that not only does Office2008 (Mac) not have OneNote, is also has same the old-fashioned look of Office2003 (PC), whereas Office2007 (PC) has a totally updated, different look, not better necessarily, but not necessarily worse either, just different.

E@L

Phil O'Shite

I'm in a meeting room in the Tokyo technical show, scanning on the machine and showing customers what features work on the bug-laden, pre-release software and … and I get this niggling sensation in the underpants region. Without me at first noticing, I'd been becoming a bit hyper and a bit anxious in my delivery and soon I find that I am speaking even more quickly than usual. The Russian Professor has no idea what I am talking about. The room is warm and I am sweating - my jacket is off but still my shirt is sticking to me. Uncomfortable. Pastiness, sense of unreality, sweaty forearms. BP falling, distended bladder and rectum compressing the iliac veins, decreasing the blood circulation and therefore the cardiac stroke volume. I need to go somewhere, to see a man about a dog. Not sure if it is merely a fart building up from this morning's cornflakes and prunes breakfast or something more… substantial, that is to say, something of substance. That Žižekian substance being of course, shit.

So at the first hiatus in questioning, I pass the crowd off to one of the other application specialists and duck out to the loo. Where IS it? I must get to the bottom of this. We are in the Roppongi Hills Academy (next to the Hyatt) and the company has gone overboard as usual in placing guides at every corner in the rabbit warren to show you the way to wherever you are headed - but only if you speak Japanese. Beautiful girls in white uniforms bow at me at each junction as I search the corridors, giving me continually the same greetings, pointing their hands in the direction I do not want to go or have just passed in my last fruitless circuit. They are not dressed like Motor show girls or anything, but are wearing smart (but tight) skirts suits with jackets and little hats. They have wonderful facial structure and skin and I would take any of them home in a heartbeat. Are they robotic, animatronic? This bowing and this repetition of the formulaic greeting is just a tad weird, has just a tad of that "Lost in Translation" inscrutable Asian feel to it. Also there is something of "THX-1138" - "Can you be more, specific?" - in those white uniforms and deftly symmetrical gestures.

OK, whatever, stop talking movies, fuck me dead... I need a toilet, urgent... I am looking for the signs...

Ah, here. In I go, find an empty stall and there is an electrically warmed arse-squirting toilet seat ready for me.

There's a joke I heard when I was about 5 - yeah, round about the time of that cute photo from the other day. I still remember it . One uncle of mine was telling some other uncles about the time that the Queen and Prince Philip visited Melbourne in the sixties. It can't have been too much later that he was telling the joke. The Royal parade was passing down Exhibition St (Russell St?), which was rather locally famous, or notorious, for its controversial pay-for-use Public Toilets - the only ones in the CBD and you have to bloody well pay - sited underground, the green-tiled entrance-steps not far from the intersection with Bourke St, if I recall. Women's on one side, Men's on the other. (Or were they on Bourke St itself? Or LaTrobe? Answers in a SSAE please.)

Suddenly, said my uncle keeping a straight-man's face, the Royal Carriage was seen to make an unscheduled halt at this intersection, and with the distinctive rattle of golden door handles, a tall man in a dress uniform rushed out and ducked down the stairs and into the public lav. A few minutes later he returned to the carriage and the parade resumed. Now my uncle, truth be told, knew a fellow who had entered the toilets at an immediately adjacent time to that of the man in the dress uniform and who, after paying extra for the privilege of using the private seating facilities, not the stainless steel horse-trough for the acceptance of the common-mans' urinary outflow, and purely by chance, was the exact subsequent occupier of that precise stall only just vacated by the man in the dress uniform whom of course was none other than himself, His Royal Husbandness, Philip Mountbatten (nee Battenburg). And my uncle's friend, as he carefully took his seat to perform his daily duty, claims that he saw, on the door of the toilet itself, recently written in a frustrated English hand, the following lines of doggerel:

Here I sit, broken-hearted
Paid my threepence* and only farted...

My other uncles all burst into profane Catholic laughter at the expense (making the joke funnier, though I didn't understand this at the time) of the Protestant English Royalty.

This schoolboys joke, which so amused my adult uncles, came to mind as I sat on the Japanese fancy toilet machine, as did several other thoughts…

Why is it, I pondered, why is it that someone who makes grand promises and never fulfills them, or who talks big but acts small, is said to be: "all hot air". Because it is the hot air of a fart.

The next train down that tunnel, we say after we let rip a ball-tearer, is going to be "the goods". Goods. Solid things. Substantial things. GOOD things.

Why is the person who fails to deliver what he maintained he would, said to be: "all piss and wind". Because he is "weak as water"? Because farts and urinations are not solid, not... substantial. Not of substance. Therefore, not GOOD.

Surely that means to be "a man of substance" is to be a man whom, when nature calls, is able directly to shit and then, presumably, to get off the pot? Substance, goods - "I did a GGOOOOOOOOODDDD SHIT!," claims Borat to his neighbouring table, as he returns to the restaurant dining room.

And YET! Oh, bitterly, yet! Why do we call a man fond of the blather and big talk that may be untruths and lies or exaggerations, "full of shit?" Why is that? Is that not a fundamental contradiction, an excretory paradox and a cloacal conundrum, all wrapped up in an cathartic enigma? Is it not good to be a man of substance, a man who "delivers the goods"? Is it GOOD or BAD to have shit inside you?

So, philosophically, I fart a resounding clapper, dribble some piss prostatically, pathetically, into the bowl, spray my arse-sphincter with warm water for about 20 minutes until it goes numb from the drilling, fart enormously once again, wipe and dry my nether regions with about thirty sheets of the double-leaf dunny-paper, wash my hands, dry them in a fancy and efficient air-drier, and head out to negotiate my way past the gesturing animatronic sex-toys to the scanning room again.

So, I ask myself, after that effort, have I proven myself to be all piss and wind? Am I still full of shit?

"приветствия,** Professor!" I say as I enter the scanning room.

E@L


*pronounced "thrippence". Another variation on the last line from school, where the toilets were free, is: "Ran all this way, and only farted."

** Greetings! in Russian, according to Babelfish.

Busy Getting Well

Still alive, don't panic.

I took a few days off last week as I had a lot of podiatrist, physiotherapist and osteopath visits. I'm getting really pushed around by these guys. The podiatrist is doing all sorts of weird things with my inner sole that is throwing me into a strange dysbalanced gait. No change to my outer soul though.

The osteopath is trying to give me more calf and hamstring flexibilty and to reduce the cannonball tightness in my gastrocs. Man where do you develop that thumb power? YEOW! He can push!

The physio has given me some stretches and some massage for my knees which have been losing power as I haven't been exercising (hardly even walking) these last 6 months - the kneecaps are clicking and sliding around due to the old imbalance of the pull of the ITB and vastus lateralus against the weakening vastus medialus. Some of those gluteus medius exercises are quite suggestive and I hope Izzy doesn't walk in when I'm doing them (naked).

This part has been the most successful thus far. Already I am going downstairs easier without the locking of the right knee (medial meniscus tear and arthroscopy 18 months ago, remember?) and threat of instability I have been having lately.

I also have bought a yoga mat on which I can do my stretches in the privacy of the apartment rather than in the gym.

AND I have been swimming 20 -30 mins everyday and doing my gym and stretches 3 out 4 days.

Shit, any minute now I might hit an endorphin zone and then... kiddos, you better look out!

As life should be kept in balance, I have been tempering this healthy stuff with a fairly heavy schedule of social (i.e. drinking) engagements - hardly been home in the evenings, hence the dearth of posts. Result - no change in the reading of the old avoirdupois.

How to keep up the excercise and swimming side of this equation when I start travelling again is the question...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People have been commenting last week on the blog, and bugger me to Blighty, but I can't get on to add my own comments. Sorry guys, I am not ignoring you, I swear. I swear to the Demiurge! I am on the verge of just going to Blogger. I already have "expatatlarge.blogspot" so why the fuck not? The other software, B2B, also looks a tad problematic, and I just haven't had computer time to get things started, like porting my template across.

That commenting problem also applies to people who have the same log-on issues and have asked me to put up comments for them - sorry peoples, even I can't get on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did I mention the other week that I had three days of training to give? My new South American counterpart came on to Singapore after our company's Japan marketing show. She used to work for use there and has come back, but is now about 24 months behind, so I had to go through all the upgraded features. Sounds easy, yeah? She is a Brazilian-born Japanese woman who speaks mainly Portugese and Japanese of course - and bloody little English. That was a massive struggle.

But luckily we have a white board that prints out all my heavily stylized physics scribblings - I shoulda stuck to doing my Post Grad in Education and been a lecturer - some of those diagrams of mine were pretty damn cool. I could even figure out for myself what I was talking about when I looked at them later in the day! Whether she could or not - I have no idea. As I said, I never finijshed that education course so I didnt get to the bit about assessment and testing.

Tomorrow I'm back in the office, writing up a report of that training session. Timely or what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gerry Lim's new book Invisible Trade II - imaginative title, hey? (yeah, yeah, it's functional)- is out. I haven't read it yet, but as I know two of the people he has interviewed for several of the chapters, I thought I'd better grab a copy.

Review to come. In my humble opinion, Gerry's style is well suited to short magazine pieces (he writes regularly for August). It's the more interesting people he knows that really keep you reading these longer works.

& yep, that's my demure little flatmate on the cover.

My life is weird.



But as a friend said to me last week, "The definition of 'insane' would be you quitting your job and going back to Australia."

E@L

Who Should Light The Olympic Flame In The Beijing Stadium?

Someone who's used to carrying a flame for freedom and democracy in China.


Tank Man

Bad Photoshop by E@L

Who IS This Serious White Haired Young Man?

What a cutie-pie!?




E@L (with the sun in his eyes, aged maybe 4 or 5.)

DOMS

Quote:

"It was great this weekend, my first one home for almost ever: did some gym work on Saturday and some laps of the pool, and went for another swim today with Izzy... "

Unquote.

E@L, you total go-overboard whacko!

D.O.M.S. Click the link and look it up dudes.

Owww! Everywhere hurts like fuck!

Tried to do some stretches tonight, nearly killed me! I had to crash on the couch and watch SuperBad!!

Where's a massage girl when you need one?

E@L