Survival of the Fattest I

Part one in a series discussing the many dangers inherent in the all-you-can-eat buffet, and advice on how to avoid them. Read closely; the information here may save your life one day….

There is a certain special feeling involved with the all-you-can eat buffet, an exalted, gluttonous celebration of Jacobean proportions; slabs of shimmering meat, acres of glistening sushi, the multihued decadence of the dessert corner. The pure excess of wall to wall food is enough to make a fat man weep. Filling the cracks between the stagnant one style ‘speciality’ restaurants like ‘Thai’ restaurants or ‘pizza’ parlours, it exists as a fairy tale world where elven feasts are realized and the banquets of Neverland are brought to life in full flavoured glory.

Of course, there are rules. With such an abundance of foods in the one place there must be rules. You can’t go bounding into a professional buffet room all guns a-blazing, stacking your plate with anything and everything that comes to hand. Many a novice patron has run wild with voracious glee only to succumb to the many pitfalls inherent within. Superfluous fillers and malevolent breadsticks lurk at every turn, as do fancy foreign pastries that, though cute and pleasing to the eye, serve only to conceal a centre of pure evil.

Though I now stand before you as a hardened buffet vet, I must lay claim to my shameful past; I too was once a pasty faced all-you-can-eat greenhorn. As a skinny and innocent 14 year old, barely ready to meet the world, I was thrown into the deep end during an exchange trip to the southern US state of Louisiana. I will save you the brutal details, but suffice it to say, they were not pretty. The disdainful pity received from my American counterparts is something I recall in my nightmares to this day.

I learned the hard way. Walking into an all-you-can-eat buffet is not like walking into a normal restaurant. It is walking into a war, a vicious bloody war that pits you, your digestive system and, by god, your dignity, against an avalanche of foods. As commanding officer of your performance you must lead with a level head, a steady nerve and a constitution of iron. As any good general worth his salt will tell you, if a war is to be won, you need to have a damn good battle plan drawn up in order to win it.

Next time: War games.

Rambo 2

Here's Miki's homage to Rambo, that crazy loveable ball of white fur whose only mission in life is to ruin every little thing we own and piss in all the corners. Isn't he a cutie!

little rant

Just spent three hours on the bus coming back from Suzhou where we were forced to waste yet another day in the name of forwarding the business. I hate Suzhou. Just as I hate train stations that stop selling tickets after 7. And I hate people who have accidents causing ridiculously long traffic jams and making a one hour journey last over three. Surprisingly though, I don't hate buses. I like buses.

down-and-out Vader

An oldie but a goodie. Darth Vader hits hard times.

Watch watch bag bag cheap cheap

Intended to go Christmas shopping today, but ended up wandering aimlessly around the labaryinth like markets of Qi Pu lu for hours on end, stumbling along with a million other people up and down the aisles of the massive shopping centres. I'm not sure how many department stores line Qi Pu road - one fairly concise estimate was 'a whole heap' - but each store is chocked full from basement level 2 to 5th floor attic with little shops selling clothes and apparell of all manner. Girl's clothes, men's clothes, kid's clothes, midget clothes* - thousands and thousands of different items, and after 4 hours I can honestly say it's all crap. (*Disclaimer: May not actually have been midget clothes)

Qi Pu lu was originally a place for wholesalers, but since the closure of the infamous Xiang Yang market this summer, the myriad of salesmen, touts and purveyors of dubious wares have been forced to graze at the city's other market places. In turn, like a good flock eager to be fleeced, the foreigners and tourists who depended on Xiang Yang for their ready supply of fake goods and shitty souveniers have followed. And, if I am allowed to take this analogy a little further, the influx of new consumers has brought with it their own parasites: the damned Xiang Yang cockroaches.

And I'm not talking about the skanky insect kind of cockroaches, the kind that strike fear into the heart of even the most foolhardy of people (me), I'm talking about the uber-annoying "hello, you want watch, bag, DVD, cheap cheap" touts who try and drag you to some shady shop or other to sell their stock of counterfeit goods. These bastards stick to you better than a bad dose of the Vietnamese clap (so Jimmy Wright tells me), incessently harping on about going to their shop, armani sweaters, polo t-shirts etc. And because of the relatively small amount of foreigners who visit Qi Pu, they prey in packs! It's fake goods touts in STEREO at Qi Pu!

Anyway, besides getting annoyed by said cockroaches, and besides not actually getting anything resembling a Christmas present whatsoever, I did manage to pick up quite a few cheap flowery shirts and a couple of T-shirts, so, I believe I win! Hurrah!

THE CHALLENGE

Sidestepping our usual idle chitchat on msn the other day, my brother Simon and I began discussing the nationalities of people we know. The results of this conversation, despite shining light on the fact that between us we don't really know an awful lot of people, pointed out that at the minute the both of us are acquainted with one or two persons of the Swedish persuasion.

Thus, taking this to the natural next step, we decided on a little wager.

We each have until April 1st to recieve as many postcards from the Scandinavian countries as possible. Postcards must be sent from the region, and it's 1 point per place. Anywhere in Norway, Sweden and Finland is eligible, and we've even decided to throw in Danish towns and things at 1/2 point per place, just because they have nice bacon.

Come April 1st, all postcards will be verified, and the loser will buy for the winner a fine bottle of triple distilled Redbreast Irish Whiskey.

As you would think, I'm as keen to see my brother vanquished like a foe of old as I am to wet my whistle on some fine Irish whiskey. However, I know the likelihood of this blog being widely read in any of the Scandanavia countries is about as likely as me winning the Miss Mongolia competition this year (although I was close runner up last year), so I'm asking any and everybody who reads this (except Simon) to search their old friend base and see if they can't convince an old comrade or two to send me a postcard!

All help appreciated. Oh, and one more thing - Simon hates small kids and he kicks puppies. So if you don't do it for me, do it for the children....... leave me a comment if you want to help. Together we can beat him.

Got my vote

Flotsam & Jetsam

Here are some old blogs and things that I have scattered around the place, some with a few entries, some with a bunch of photos. Some with sweet FA! More of a convenient place of linkage for myself, but feel free to waste a few minutes.

Flickr - My flickr account, which I don't pay for so adding things is a slow process, about 20 pictures a month. Currently around the 50/60 mark.

The Exalted Wanderings of Penfold The Merciless - Set up for me to keep friends and family up-to-date while I trampled the globe from Omagh to New Zealand via Siberia, China and Japan. I didn't get very far.... In fact I think once I left British soil I left a total of one actual real post. Still, the intention was there.

Zombies Ate My Face - A short lived group I started on Yahoo groups to exchange witticisms with friends. I was too witty and they all abandoned it after a few months. One last ditch attempt to attract visitors by posting a few porn pics failed to re-spark interest.

The Deadly Art of Penfold - A MySpace site I started with one blog entry (ironically joking that I would probably ditch it after one blog). Started basically to appease Miki. Has some photos.

Bebo - I have a bebo site. Good to keep in contact with a few friends but besides that doesn't shed much light on anything. Some photos.

A smart shop assistant is worth her weight in gold...

This evening I accompanied Miki to the chemists and assumed a bored boyfriend stance outside while she bought some flu fighting drugs within. As she was lining up at the till, one of the assistants - there were about ten in this largely deserted shop - noticed me outside and reflected to her friend that there was a foreigner hanging around. Upon learning that I had come with Miki she asked Miki if I had come from Europe as I looked European. Miki, who has become used to people asking if I'm American, was somewhat suprised and praised the assistant for her observational skills and worldly knowledge, and posed her one further question; whereabouts in Europe do you think he comes from? "Australia?" was the procumbent answer........

Map of China

Here's a nice big map of China for no other reason that I like maps and I reckoned it might look a bit good here. I'm in Shanghai, on the East coast.

Chinese Muslims

The islamic faith came to China over a thousand years ago, brought by Arab traders and deposited like silt along the fabled silk road. Today there exist, according to some 'experts,' 22 million muslims in the People's Republic, still a relatively minor number when considering China as a whole, but to a wide eyed country boy from Omagh, it's a pretty staggering number.

Most of these muslims live way out west, in the huge expanses of Xinjiang and Qinghai provinces, but over time many have filtered through to the east coast cities to form small communities. Wandering around a decently sized Chinese city, these muslim quarters are particularly evident from the shop signs in traditional sanskrit, the occasional domed mosque, and especially the people. Brown of face and usually seen under a small white cap or shawl, the men sporting long thin beards.

From what I can see of my travels around China, these muslims are more often than not connected with basic food shops - mutton shish kebabs on the street, small spicy noodle soup shops - so today I asked Miki if they as a people, generally speaking, were attached to any other buiness sector. Nope, she said. Just food shops. Are you sure, says I, unwilling to accept that out of 22 million people, the only thing they were known for was sprinkling cumin over barbequed meat. After careful consideration she told me that they did have quite a sizeable claim to one other sector:

Robbery.

So from thieving and cooking lamb, allow me to introduce to you, the Chinese muslim peoples. Ain't stereotyping a bitch!

Nightmares and dreamscapes

I had a nightmare last night. As usual I can't remember most of it, but the gist of it was some Chinese gangster dude was torturing someone and I stepped in to stop it, so he cut off most of the fingers on my right hand. Which wasn't nice. I then spent the rest of the dream going from situation to situation bemoaning my lack of digits (it's no laugh trying to play playstation with one hand sans fingers). Thought that was the end of it but I ran into said Chinese gangster again before I woke up - actually having said that i don't think he was Chinese. Probably Albanian like that git who robbed me in Russia. Anyway, we got into another skerfuffle and I had a brief moment of pain as he wrenched out one of my teeth before I woke up.

So what does this mean? Is it my subconciousness warning me I shouldn't try to help anyone? Am I terrified of deformities (well yes, obviously. Except midgets.)? Maybe a spectre from my past is contacting me for some grave reason. Or maybe I just had too much cake before going to bed.

mmmmm cake. oh, and does 'being a midget' count as a deformity? Reflections please.

Filling in the blanks

Amnesia is a bitch, ain't it? Let me try and recreate the happenings of the last 9 or 10 months...


February - after quitting the casino I went to work in a propery valuers, in the midst of a giant project to revalue every single house in Auckland. I split my time driving around the city valuing property and entering said values into a computer back at the office. It was nice to know I was directly influencing the New Zealand economy despite my severe lack of training (and professionalism: "How many bedrooms does that house have? Dunno. It's big. Let's say 5. And throw in a swimming pool for good measure. Must be nearly lunch time, and I saw a pub round the corner ....").

March - In March I did a few things. Started going out with Miki, who also worked in the casino, and quit my high flying property valuers job to go a-travellin' with my parents who arrived sometime around St Paddy's day. Headed south.

April - Still travelling New Zealand with the folks, heading down the west coast of the south island, before cutting across and meeting up with Miki in Christchurch. Parents left and herself and myself went on to Queenstown to live for a while. First apartment was soaked in luxury and had spectacular views, but the hideous co-tenants drove us out within two weeks. Continued my work as an International Superstar Blackjack Dealer at Skycity Queenstown.

May / June - For some reason that escapes me we packed up and swopped our house in the serene mountain wilderness of Queenstown for an apartment in the chaotic urban wilderness of Shanghai, completely missing the ski season (which was half my reason for moving there in the first place. Oh well).

July / August / September - Living the good life in Shaghai, getting fat and spending money. Opened a private school to exploit student idleness during the summer holidays, earned a ton of money, lost it all in the casinos of Macau on a visa run, started playing gaelic football. Got a dog, called it Rambo, it died after 24 hours, so got another dog and called it Rambo 2. He is still with us and pissing everywhere.

October - this month I can sort of remember most of, being that it was last month. Jen came over from Korea for a few weeks, which was nice. Went to the Shanghai F1 among other fun endeavours. I along with the Shanghai Saints B team walked away from the All-Asian Gaelic Games with the Bowl. Not bad for a Norn Iron Prod, eh? Gradually stopped all classes from the school to start a different sort of business with Miki. I now sell wedding dresses to New Zealanders. Who would have thought?

November - Ah, up to date! Dress business has gone from strength to strength, I decided to go home for Christmas, and it was Miki's birthday yesterday. And the weather has got really really cold and it hasn't stopped raining for about a week.

There you have it. It's a little sketchy, and I'm sure I must have done a whole shedload of other stuff besides this, but right now it should be enough to assure you that I am not dead.

Feb to Nov in one swift post

Hey look at this! I have a blog. Forgot about it, along with the half dozen or so other ones I started. I even have one that consists of nothing but a title. Cool, eh? Plus a bunch of photo sharing sites. Anyway I like the name of this one so I'm going to keep it. Maybe I'll link to all the other flotsom i've left to die along the way.

Oh, by the way, we're heading into the end of NOVEMBER now, and a lot has changed. Stay tuned for a brief rundown.......

Celebration of Life, Nature and Unemployment

Finally quit my job as International superstar Blackjack Dealer, to become, shockingly enough, and unemployed international Superstar Blackjack dealer. It's great - I get to sit around all day, do nothing and watch tv, sparing a thought every now and then for the poor multitudes who have to go to work each and every day. My heart goes out to them, it really does.

But enough about them, back to me. I quit my casino job partly because I wanted a semblance of a social life back; even if that meant sitting at home watching the telly with one or more of my housemates, at least I wouldn't have to clamber into the car at 7:30pm every night and drive to an 8 hour shift. The other reason was the customers - I grew to hate them with a passion, a factor that increased exponentially over Christmas with all the extra business due to the plebs being on holiday (I remember those). On the whole obnoxious, arrogant and rude, there is something strange that happens when a person sits down at a casino table; they might be the nicest person in the world, but once they assume the position on the stool they tend to undergo a transformation into a tit. A great big tit.

Despite this I have to say I loved my 6 months as an International superstar blackjack dealer, and its something I'll never forget. But it's time to move on, because at the end of January I turned .... (dramatic music) 27.... 27 long years walking God's green (and let's face it, these days somewhat polluted and chaotic) Earth. And to celebrate I had a kiwi BBQ, and went to the zoo. For whatever reason there was a reggae band playing(name of Katchafire for those NZ reggae aficionados), and me, the monkeys and Jake the Elephant all had an excellent time. Thank you for asking.

This quite egoistical and indulgent celebration of my birth was followed by a week of camping New Zealand style, which involved rocking up to a wonderful beach on the Coromandel, 4 hours to the East of Auckland, with my housemate Mark, and spending a week doing a lot of swimming, fishing, and sitting. Lots of sitting, I can't emphasise that enough. Lots. Kiwi camping is basically you drive to the coast, erect a huge tent, have everything you normally have at home save the telly, computer and toaster, and then do nothing. Personally I like it. Of course I thought we were going for the minimalist wilderness camping where you have nothing but your wits and a trusty pen knife to survive, thus I was woefully unprepared. This had nothing to do with the fact I don't own many useful items..... Anyway Mark basically had two of everything in the back of his Big Yellow Car of Fun (tm) so I was grand.

27, camping under the stars beside an awesome beach in the middle of nowhere, New Zealand without a care in the world.

Ain't life grand?