read all about it
sn't it funny that most of us recieve our copy of the daily newspapers way before the sun gets up, but only get down to reading them after the big yellow face in the sky starts getting a bit dulan with everybody complaining about how frikkin hot it is and decides to go smoke out for a while. But I digress. We're talking about newspapers, not oversensitive celestial bodies.
Every night the printing presses work full steam to get us our update on the world as soon as possible. Then in the wee hours of the morning all the old uncles with their lau pok vans and magic balancing act motorcycles will bring stacks upon stacks of the papers to the stacks upon stacks of concrete boxes that most of us call home, whereupon they trudge their way up flights of stairs (because for some reason housing board elevators can't possibly stop on all floors) and leave that bundle of blood (from the papercut the uncle got carrying the papers), sweat (obvious) and tears (the uncle saw President Wee Kim Wee in the obits).
And what do we do with them?
- pick out the 'Life' section and sit on the toilet reading the funnies to distract yourself from the fact that if you bothered to eat more vegetables this wouldn't be quite so painful
- flip to the sports section and start spewing bread crumbs when you find out that Liverpool's in a Champions League final.
- take the Classifieds section and start mopping up the coffee you spilt during your over enthusiastic celebrations
- use the front page to cover your face and act as a shield when your mom starts to kao be kao bu about how the stains will become unerasable and the value of the house will drop and if next time cannot sell the house its all your fault
- roll up the now battered front page and start chasing the pesky housefly that decided to inject some excitement in its life. And yours too.
- use more of the Classifieds to mop up the coffee you spilt chasing the fly that by now is resting happily on your upturned ass and laughing uproariously to itself.
And then there's the proportion of us who actually read the papers, whoever or whatever they are.
Every night the printing presses work full steam to get us our update on the world as soon as possible. Then in the wee hours of the morning all the old uncles with their lau pok vans and magic balancing act motorcycles will bring stacks upon stacks of the papers to the stacks upon stacks of concrete boxes that most of us call home, whereupon they trudge their way up flights of stairs (because for some reason housing board elevators can't possibly stop on all floors) and leave that bundle of blood (from the papercut the uncle got carrying the papers), sweat (obvious) and tears (the uncle saw President Wee Kim Wee in the obits).
And what do we do with them?
- pick out the 'Life' section and sit on the toilet reading the funnies to distract yourself from the fact that if you bothered to eat more vegetables this wouldn't be quite so painful
- flip to the sports section and start spewing bread crumbs when you find out that Liverpool's in a Champions League final.
- take the Classifieds section and start mopping up the coffee you spilt during your over enthusiastic celebrations
- use the front page to cover your face and act as a shield when your mom starts to kao be kao bu about how the stains will become unerasable and the value of the house will drop and if next time cannot sell the house its all your fault
- roll up the now battered front page and start chasing the pesky housefly that decided to inject some excitement in its life. And yours too.
- use more of the Classifieds to mop up the coffee you spilt chasing the fly that by now is resting happily on your upturned ass and laughing uproariously to itself.
And then there's the proportion of us who actually read the papers, whoever or whatever they are.
posted by isaac! at 11:09 PM
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